musicalluna

Title: Shafted: Part 6 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.

"All right, we’re going to need every ladder we can get. You four," the fire chief said, pointing to the two officers and two firemen nearest him. "Go. Four more minimum!" They had already headed off down the hall before he had finished the order.

"Chief," Charlie called, "I want to loosen a few of these bolts and see if we can’t drain a little of this blood out."

"Here," the brunette medic said, holding out a case. "It’s a portable aspirator. There’s a pump you can use to suction the blood up with."

"Hold it," Lassiter said as the fireman reached for it. "Let’s give it to O’Hara, she’ll have better access." The others nodded in agreement and Lassiter took the aspirator, calling Juliet’s name. "Can you kick the vent cover out?" he asked when she appeared at the vent.

"Look out," she warned and they all stepped back. Two firm kicks later, the cover crashed to the floor and she peered down at them. "What’s this?" she asked as Lassiter handed the aspirator up.

"It has a pump in it. We want you to try and get rid of as much of the blood as you can," he said.

"Oh," she said, looking pleased. "Sure, no problem." She disappeared back into the shaft.

"So how is this going to work?" Lassiter asked Charlie, who was adjusting the position of his ladder.

"Well," he said, and leaned against the ladder. "With any luck we’ll have five guys on ladders and they’ll support—Spencer, was it?—after I unscrew the panel. We’ll lower him down bit by bit and anyone who’s available will just do everything they can to keep him the position he’s in until the medics can tell us exactly what to do with him." He smirked. "That’s the plan anyway."

Lassiter glanced up at the duct as Charlie went off to direct the officer who had returned with the first ladder. The plan indeed.

In a matter of fifteen minutes, the ladders had been located and set up in a circle beneath the vent. The firefighters clambered up them, hovering at the tops while the rest of the firefighters and several of the officers stationed themselves at the bottoms of the ladders, holding them in place and readying themselves to take over bringing Shawn down when he got low enough.

"All right, everybody ready?" the Chief said and received a resounding ‘yes’. "All right, Charlie," he said and Charlie nodded. Four pairs of hands went up to support the sheet of metal, and he worked quickly, removing the bolts. The firemen grunted, straining to support Shawn’s weight as the final bolt was removed and Charlie quickly handed his tools down, saying, "All right, nice and easy, guys!"

They began lowering the square of metal, inch by inch, avoiding a bit of blood as it trickled out. They froze when Shawn let out a strangled yelp, Juliet crying, "Wait, stop, stop! He’s stuck!" His hair was practically glued to the grating because of the dried blood matted in it. Juliet grimaced, sticking her fingers through the spaces in the grating and whispering, "I’m sorry, Shawn," as she began yanking tufts of his hair away from the metal. He hissed, his good hand moving back to swat feebly at her fingers.

"Jules…!" he said, voice pathetic, and she pulled hard, freeing the last bit.

"Sorry," she whispered again and then said loudly, "Okay, keep going!"

They started lowering him down again, trying to ignore Shawn’s stifled moans as his head scraped along the inside of the duct, and Charlie barked, "Someone’s got to get his head!"

As one of the free officers grabbed a wad of gauze from a paramedic, hurrying up the back of one of the ladders to press it to Shawn’s head, Gus moved beneath the vent and reached up as Juliet slipped out feet first, grabbing hold of her and gently lowering her to the ground. She thanked him and they both turned, moving quickly toward the circle of ladders as Shawn cried out, the officer pressing as hard as he could against the bloody spot on his head to keep him from moving and falling off. There were several gasps as his broken arm finally fell free, dropping limply to the side, blood dried in streaks all along it, the protruding bone only slightly whiter than his skin. Lassiter winced and he barked, "Careful with that arm!"

"Oh my gosh," Gus whispered, and looked away for a second, swallowing hard, Juliet’s supportive hand on his arm.

Charlie pressed his hands to Shawn’s back as soon as there was room to fit his hands, and he and the officer pushing against his head tried valiantly to keep Shawn in the position he was coming out in. They continued inching him downward and the officers at the bottom took over supporting the him as soon as the sheet of metal had come within reach of their fingertips. The firefighters on top began reaching upward again, finding places to grasp his body, holding him vigilantly in place.

"Jules…" Shawn mumbled, "’M light headed…don’t feel good."

She moved forward, grabbing his good hand through the throng of officers and firemen, still carefully lowering him, and said soothingly, "It’s okay, Shawn, just hold on a few more minutes. Breathe nice and slow."

He nodded once, winced, and then took as deep a breath as he could manage, squeezing her fingers.

"Okay!" one of the paramedics yelled as he reached a height where they were no longer straining upward to hold him, "Go ahead and start laying him out, slowly!"

They did as she ordered, the top men slowly and carefully handing Shawn’s legs down. He moaned, his stomach starting to protest. "Stop moving…" he pleaded, swallowing hard, and Juliet put a gentle hand on his forehead.

"Just a little more, Shawn."

He shook his head as several of the ladders were pulled out of the way and one of the medics approached, neck brace in hand. He moaned, nearly crushing Juliet’s hand in his grip, trying to curl up in an attempt to stem the nausea, but the men holding him up carefully restrained him. "Let me go, please…" he mumbled and then clamped his mouth shut as his stomach gave a particularly strong heave.

"Turn him!" the medic barked, "Keep his spine aligned!" They did as ordered, and Shawn moaned again as everything spun, his ears ringing and making the queasiness even worse. The paramedic waved at the men on the side by his face. "Get away!" They backed away hastily, all except for Juliet, who stood stalwartly near his waist, his hand still in hers. Charlie moved forward, bucket in hand, as the medic snapped the neck brace around Shawn’s neck, pushing the bloody sheet of metal away, just as Shawn’s stomach could no longer be denied. He heaved, violently, into the bucket, and the officers and firemen holding him grimaced sympathetically as his stomach emptied itself, only exacerbating the pain in his neck and shoulders. He dry heaved for several seconds before the spasms finally began to fade and he gagged, coughing weakly and trembling from head to toe.

Juliet wiped his mouth with a piece of gauze handed to her by one of the medics, pressing a cool hand to his cheek. He grimaced as they turned him onto his back again, the paramedic calling for the gurney. He still felt obscenely lightheaded and knew that probably wasn’t a good sign. On the up-side, he could breathe again. He suddenly realized his legs were burning, prickling viciously. It was the gone-to-sleep feeling, only times a thousand. "My legs…" he mumbled as they were strapping him down and they all froze.

"What do you mean, Shawn?" Gus asked worriedly from his side. Shawn blinked. He hadn’t noticed him there before.

"Needles," he explained and they all let out heavy sighs of relief, Gus putting a hand to the gurney to support his suddenly weak-kneed legs.

"Can you breathe okay?" the brunette paramedic asked, but Shawn was oblivious, distracted by his broken arm in the hands of the blonde medic.

"Wow," he commented, "I didn’t know my arm bent that way. Cool. Can I keep it for Halloween?"

There was a round of halfhearted laughter and Gus rolled his eyes, and, trying to sound annoyed and just sounding very, very relieved, said, "Hell, no."

The female paramedic slipped an oxygen mask over Shawn’s head, saying, "As a precaution," but he was gone before she had finished the statement, his lightheadedness finally overwhelming him.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7