Shafted: Part 4 of 7

[musicalluna]

Title: Shafted: Part 4 of 7
Fandom: Psych
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: The Regulars/None
Genre: Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Little tiny bit of gore.
Complete: Yes
Summary: Only Shawn could injure himself whilst searching a cordoned off office building with a faction of S.B.P.D. officers. Shameless Shawn whumpage. XDDDDD
A/N: Yay, whump!
Disclaimer: I do not own Psych nor do I own any of the wonderfully adorable characters who inhabit the Psych world. 

Juliet had come upon the grating that the top of Shawn’s head pressed up against between the two sections of the ventilation system. The first thing she saw was the seemingly enormous darkened pool of blood that was seeping through the grating from underneath his head, followed by the matted mess of hair on the crown of his head, pushed up against the grating. She could see the sharp angle of his body only up to his rib cage, but she didn’t need to see anymore to know how awful a position it was. He was breathing with considerable difficulty too, which only made her heart go out to him more. She started to put her flashlight down and something glinted brightly beside Shawn’s head. She frowned and turned the flashlight on it. Her jaw dropped in horror at what the light revealed.

The glint she had seen was the light reflecting off of the snow white bone jutting out of Shawn’s pinned left arm. Blood oozed heavily from the wound and she suddenly understood why there was so much of it at the bottom of the shaft. "Oh my gosh…" she whispered, aghast.

"Jules?" Shawn said uncertainly.

"Yes, I’m here, Shawn," she said, moving up closer to the grating, diverting her eyes from the gory mess that was his arm. The smell of his blood was almost overpowering.

He started to tip his head backwards, trying to see her, and hissed as a sharp pain shot up his neck.

"No, no, oh, don’t move Shawn," she said.

"Ow," he whispered, voice strained.

"O’Hara," Lassiter said forcefully, and finally got her attention again. "You’re down there with him then?"

"Yes," she said and then very softly, "Does he look just as bad from up there?"

"Yes," Lassiter replied grimly. "He can still move his legs though, so I suppose that’s a good sign. It looks like he may have broken his arm."

Juliet nodded, glancing at the arm, her stomach turning. "It’s definitely broken," she said.

"What’s broken?" Shawn asked. "Are you talking about me?"

"I take it it’s not good," Lassiter said severely.

Juliet swallowed. "He snapped it in half. The bones are sticking out, at least a couple of inches."

"Jules! Are you talking about my bones?" Shawn demanded and gasped as he shifted, the grating pulling at the wound on his head, his neck searing with pain.

She winced, and said, "Shhh, Shawn, just lie still, okay? Don’t worry about it." Then to Lassiter she said quietly, "I don’t think he can feel it. He must have pinched a nerve or something. How are we going to do this?"

"Stay with him, O’Hara. Keep him talking and try to keep him from moving, if you can. He straightens out his legs every so often so he can breathe better, so let me know if he ever stops doing that, or if he passes out. We’ll drag him out by his feet if we have to. I’m going to call downtown and get blueprints and a crew down here so we can get him out ASAP. Is there any way to get him out down there?" he asked suddenly.

"No, there’s a grating here, and from what I can tell, it’s bolted in on the outside. We’d have to take the whole thing apart," she said, inspecting the inside of the shaft carefully, attempting to ignore the sound of Shawn’s increasingly difficult breathing.

"All right, I’ll keep in touch," he said, "Just stay and watch him."

"No problem," she said and tucked the phone away when he hung up.

"Were you talking about me, Jules? What’s wrong with my arm?" Shawn asked determinedly.

She sighed. "You’ve broken it, Shawn."

He was quiet for a second. "Really? It doesn’t hurt."

"I gathered as much," she said.

"Who were you telling?"

"Lassiter."

"Oh," Shawn said and pointed upward with his good arm. "He was up there before. He bailed. I irritated him, I think."

"Oh, no, Shawn. He’s just trying to get you out of here."

Shawn sounded amused when he spoke again, but Juliet didn’t miss the veiled anxiety in his voice. "I mucked this one up pretty bad, eh, Jules?"

She smiled, almost sadly, and said, "You tend to do that."

He tried to shrug and then badly concealed a whimper of pain. "It’s what I’m good at," he managed. "That and finding things."

~ * * * ~

"Look what I found, sir!"

Lassiter jerked backwards as an evidence baggy was brandished in his face while he was trying to climb out of the duct system. He glowered, dropping to the floor and the rookie recoiled a little. "What is it?" he snapped impatiently.

"The bonds, sir! I came across them while looking for Spencer, sir!" he exclaimed proudly.

Lassiter stared for a moment. He had forgotten that was the reason they were here in the first place. Damn Spencer and whatever it was that led him to these things! "Oh. Good work," he said shortly and the poor rookie deflated as Lassiter strode down the hall past him.

"Everybody listen up! We are now tacking ‘and rescue’ to the search we just started." He began pointing to various officers. "You—radio the paramedics. You—get the fire department here with all the extraction tools they’ve got, five minutes ago. You—get me the blueprints for this damn building. I don’t care how you get them, just get them—and you, radio the Chief and tell her what’s going on. You two can go drop the evidence off downtown and get the ball rolling, I trust?" He glowered and the two officers nodded.

"Yes, sir."

For a split second, no one moved and Lassiter barked, "What are you waiting for—an invitation?!" The room immediately burst into activity.

Gus sidled up to Lassiter, who didn’t notice him until he said, "So it’s bad then."

Lassiter paused and couldn’t help looking slightly sympathetic for the psychic’s friend. "I can’t be sure. We have to take all precautions."

Gus sighed, frustrated, and said, "That’s not what I’m asking."

Lassiter tried not to look peeved. "He fell probably eight feet on to his head, Mr. Guster. It looks like he put his arm out to break his fall and he snapped it in two—the bone broke the skin. He’s got a concussion, a head wound, and he’s upside down, so his weight is slowly crushing his lungs. He can still move his legs, but he still could have broken something in his neck. If he hasn’t done anything else to himself, that’s all of it."

Gus exhaled once, sharply, and said genuinely, "Thank you."

Lassiter was surprised. "What for?"

"I know it sounds stupid, but knowing exactly what’s wrong helps. I’ve spent a lot of time in hospitals with Shawn, and I always feel better knowing the full implications rather than being kept in the dark. Less nasty shocks in a friendship where there are already way too many. So thank you," he said again and this time Lassiter nodded. He obviously wasn’t giving Gus enough credit in the ‘guts’ department.

"He’ll be fine," he said quietly and Gus smiled.

"I know."

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7