musicalluna

"Spencer," Lassiter groaned, "what the hell are we doing here?"

"Well, this is where the crime was perpetrated originally, Lassie. Wrapping everything up here with a pretty little bow only seems appropriate. The Circle of Life, what goes around comes around, back at—"

"Shawn," Juliet grit out. "He means what are we doing here right now?"

"Oh. Well, why didn't he say so?" Shawn swept his arms out in an arc, drawing their gazes out to the candy factory around them, filled with massive metal machinery, conveyor belts and other machine-y looking things only Gus would be able to name. "I had a vision," he said, taking the time to meet each of their gazes (or at least attempt since both Gus and Lassiter were too busy looking annoyed), "I had a vision,” he repeated, “of a case-breaking clue."

"Let me guess, you know what it is, but not where," Lassiter said, as always, healthily skeptical.

"WRONG!" Shawn said loudly and then promptly leapt onto a nearby conveyor belt. Though it wound up being more like an awkward lunge, a near faceplant, and then a frantic scramble, but that was just semantics. He straightened up as though it had never happened ignoring his companions shouts of indignation.

"Shawn, you can't climb on that!" Juliet exclaimed, stepping forward with her hand raised as though to drag him bodily down.

"Don't worry, Jules, I'm a professional," Shawn replied breezily and started walking along the conveyor belt, talking as he walked. "The spirits have been doing a bit of poking around in their spare time, because they were unhappy with how slowly the investigation was proceeding."

"Shawn, really, you can't be up there," Juliet hissed as they followed him as he made his way toward the machinery. "It's unsanitary!"

"You could eat off of these shoes, Jules," Shawn said. “Tell her, Gus.”

Gus crossed his arms, looking even more peeved, if that were possible. “I'm not telling her anything, Shawn. She's right. That's totally unsanitary.”

Shawn sighed and opened his mouth to begin his reveal again, sanitary or not, when the belt beneath his feet gave a lurch, the machine just ahead making a loud shrill whirring sound as it came to life. He twisted around, trying not to fall on his butt and only succeeding in landing hard on his stomach, the breath rushing out of him in a sharp oof.

"What the hell?" Lassiter said.

"Shawn!" Gus said, his voice higher and more concerned. Shawn dropped his head to the belt, trying to do something to help get air back into his lungs, his diaphram spasming as it struggled to get back into a rhythm. Ow. Ow owowow.

"Shawn, this is excessive," Juliet said, her voice sharp. "Get down from there, now."

Shawn finally sucked in a breath, lungs expanding with a sharp spasm of pain. "Okay," he croaked. "I'm—"

Something rolled onto his fingers and he frowned, his head turning to see what was causing the uncomfortable pressure. He was startled to see that his hand was already knuckle deep beneath the roller of the machine. He shifted, pulling back against the fierce ache the roller was now inducing in the back of his hand, but that only seemed to make the machine's grip that much tighter. And it was really starting to hurt.

Something in his stomach fluttered.

"Shawn!" Gus barked, "What are you doing?"

"Seriously, Shawn, get down from there, now, before you get hurt!"

Shawn thought it was already a little late for that and hissed as the machine pressed one of the bones in his hand into an exceptionally uncomfortable position. He pushed up, getting his knees underneath him, but that only added more pressure to the already awkward angle of his shoulder.

He whimpered as pain shot through his hand with a jolt. "Guys, a little help here," he said, and his voice was starting to sound a little desperate. He yanked back on his hand and a whimper caught in his throat at the threads of lightning it sent crackling through his hand. "GUYS," he said and this time his voice cracked.

"Shawn?!" Gus shouted. "This isn't funny!"

"Nnngh—!" Breaths started coming sharper and faster as the bones in his wrist ground against one another and he snapped shrilly, "I'm perfectly aware that it doooAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

A strange snapping sensation in his wrist was accompanied by a lashing of pain that whited out his vision.

"SHAWN?!" Juliet and Gus cried, Lassiter's barked, "SPENCER?" in perfect synchronization, though they could have been yelling at him from outside by the way their voice sounded, muffled by the ringing in his ears.

His arm, his wrist, his shoulder, there was nothing but pain, pain, white-hot agonizing pain—

Someone grabbed his shoulder, but the machine just kept drawing his arm in, a tearing pain accompanying every centimeter it gained. His breaths were little more than short gasps now.

"Get it off, get it off, get it off, please, get it off, please, please," he begged, putting all his strength into trying to pull away from the machine. He didn't even care that it sounded like he was on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Oh my god," Juliet breathed somewhere near his ear. Her head turned away, blonde hairs falling over his shoulder. Shawn grabbed hold of her arm with his free hand, fingers clamping around it. "Carlton!" Juliet shouted, "Turn it off! Turn it off now!"

She let out a little gasp as his fingers dug into her arm and turned back, her eyes on his face. "He's going to turn it off, Shawn, just—" A wince flickered across her face, but Shawn was oblivious, the increasing pressure on his arm forcing the pain levels up toward excruciating. He bit his lip hard enough to start blood trickling down his chin, a moan forcing it's way up his

throat and out, despite his attempts to stifle it.

"Get it off, please," he whimpered and began pulling backwards using the weight of his body to counteract the pull of the machine. "Oh god, get it off!"

"Shawn, Shawn, don't do that— Lassiter's going to get the machine, any second now—"

But it hurt, it hurt too much, it hurt so bad and any second now wasn't soon enough. A half-moan half-wail slithered out from his chest and he jerked backwards, pulling a short, grunting cry from himself in response. He kept jamming backwards, the strain on his arm between the opposing forces providing a strange sense of relief from the unbearable crushing sensation.

"Shawn, don't!" Juliet cried, but he forced his body back again. The sharp jerk in his shoulder didn't stop there like it had the times before, however. Instead, his arm continued dragging forward, his body hurling backwards and something in his shoulder gave out.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

When he could finally register something other than pain, there were tears in his eyelashes and strange, hitching sounds coming from his mouth, his body clenched into a tight little ball.

"WE GOT IT!" Gus was shouting and Juliet had a hand on his back, her face completely devoid of color.

"Shawn, oh, Shawn, shh, it's okay, they've got it off, shhh, it's going to be okay," she was whispering. "Don't move, just— don't move, okay? We're going to get you out."

His only reply was a choked sob.

"We're going to put it into reverse," Gus shouted, "Okay?"

"Just do it!" Juliet barked, her voice harsh.

"Here it goes!" Lassiter said grimly.

Shawn let out a strangled squeak as the machinery hummed back to life, his fingers clenching around Juliet's arm with renewed ferocity.

The roller moved back over Shawn's arm, but instead of the relief he was hoping for it only renewed the agony. He howled and moved to pull at his arm again, forgetting what he'd already done to it, but Juliet grabbed hold of him, one hand wrapped around the side of his neck and forced him to look at her. "Breathe, Shawn! Don't struggle, you'll just make it worse. You'll be out in just a minute, okay? Just hang on. Breathe."

"J—J-Jules, I-I-I-I can't," he panted, the words hitching in his chest. The salt in the tears trekking down his face burned, just adding injury to insult. A whimper vibrated in his throat and he stared at her, pleading. The grinding of the roller along his arm continued, unrelenting.

"Yes, you can, Shawn. You can do it, I know you can. Just a little bit longer," she said.

Shawn let out a high-pitched gasp as he felt the bone that had broken—it couldn't be anything else—shift, sending fire racing up to where his shoulder numbed out. The sound withered into a tiny whimper and Juliet's hand on his neck guided his forehead to her shoulder as she murmured in his ear, "Just a little further, Shawn. Breathe, okay? You need to breathe. You're going to be fine."

But breathing was so much more difficult than she made it sound. The agony in his arm was shorting out even the involuntary parts in his brain and no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, he couldn't seem to get his breaths to come as anything slower than a dog-like pant. "Hurts," he forced out between two such breaths. "Nnnghuuh huhh."

"I know, Shawn, I know," she said her voice dropping to a whisper. "I know it hurts, but you're so close." Her fingers stroked along the back of his skull and any other time he would have commented or considered taking advantage of their closeness, but right now the only thing he could think about was the throbbing mass of excruciating pain that had been his arm, five minutes ago.

And then Juliet was pulling away a little, shouting, "He's out, turn it off, god, turn it off!"

The tears had somehow gotten back into Shawn's eyes. He took a shuddering breath and, while Juliet was still trading terse words with Gus and Lassiter, glanced at his arm. A split-second later he was bent over the side of the conveyor belt heaving the contents of his stomach onto the concrete floor.

~ * ~

Shawn made a retching noise just past Juliet's shoulder and she turned to see him purging himself onto the floor next to her, his face still wet with tears. She grimaced and gave the back of his neck a gentle squeeze. "It's okay, Shawn. It's going to be okay." He responded with a weak, strangled sound that might have been a laugh or a sob, she couldn't really be sure.

Gus and Lassiter finally approached from around the back of the machine and she put her hand out. "Gus, you probably don't want to get any closer," she told him. "It's pretty bad."

It looked like it hurt him to do so, but Gus took her advice and stayed back where he couldn't see Shawn's arm. Lassiter moved forward however, taking in the injuries with a quiet, "Jesus."

Shawn's hand was bright red and swelling rapidly, the rest of his arm a mottled combination of reds and purples—at least where the skin hadn't been completely pulled away along the back of his arm, where dark red blood was oozing onto the conveyor belt in grisly streams around his arm. There was a funny bump along the line of his forearm that Juliet knew had to be a break. She wouldn't be at all surprised if it wasn't the only one.

"Guster called the paramedics," Lassiter said, his voice subdued. "They should be here any minute."

Juliet nodded, but her attention was rapidly being consumed by the man still clutching her arm in a painfully tight grip, breathing over the side of the conveyor belt like he'd just run a marathon. "Shawn," she said gently. "You need to breathe more slowly. Come on—"

She touched his face; it was cold, bright spots of red streaking the length of his cheekbones.

"Get me— down," he said. His eyes were bright and dilated to the point where the black nearly consumed his usual hazel.

"Shawn, we should really wait for the paramedics to get here. I really don't think you should be standing up right now—"

"I WANT DOWN!" he shouted. He was trembling now, the tremors growing stronger the longer they lasted. He started clumsily moving around, trying to get his legs over the edge of the conveyor belt and Juliet pressed her hands against his shoulders.

"No, Shawn, that's not a—"

He started thrashing, wildly, a moan fighting it's way out of his throat as he jerked his injured arm and one of his legs pulled free, connecting sharply with Juliet's ribs. She gasped, buckling forward, but refusing to let go of him. "Shawn—" she gasped.

His hips slid off of the conveyor belt, dropping him to the floor in front of her.

"Spencer!" Lassiter snapped, reaching to catch him under the arm pit.

"NO!" Juliet yelled, but it was too late. Lassiter's hand caught under Shawn's freshly dislocated shoulder and he screamed. His uninjured arm came up in defense and Juliet staggered backwards, landing hard on her butt when his hand smashed into her cheek.

"Juliet!" Gus cried.

She sat frozen in shock, one hand coming up to brush the fiery bloom on her cheek and pulling it back to find a daub of blood on her fingers.

"Spencer!" Lassiter shouted again, sounding frustrated and bewildered. "Stop it! You're just going to hurt yourself!" He hissed as Shawn landed a blow to his shin.

"Just get back, Carlton! Get back and give him a second!" she said, grimacing as her cheek throbbed. That was going to bruise nicely.

Lassiter huffed as Shawn's fingers clawed at his suit jacket and released him, stepping back as swiftly as he could. "We're not trying to hurt you, goddamnit. Calm down, Spencer."

Shawn pressed back against the legs of the conveyor belt, his chest heaving, eyes wide and dilated. His skin was roughly the color of cold oatmeal, but for the bright spots on his cheeks. A vein in his forehead and another in his neck were pulsing so hard and so fast that they could be seen, slightly raised against his skin.

"Shawn," Gus said, his voice cautious, "it's okay. We're trying to help.

It was then that the paramedics finally arrived.

"Oh, thank God," Lassiter said, stepping back and sagging against one of the machines. "He's all yours."

Juliet didn't like relinquishing her share of caring for Shawn, but her arm and her cheek ached and at the very least, the paramedics had a better idea of what they were doing.

In an extremely well-choreographed move, the two medics approached Shawn, both crouched down so as to meet him at eye-level and then, while Shawn was warily inspecting the darker haired of the two, the other struck, administering a shot directly into Shawn's untouched bicep.

Within seconds he was much more complacent.

They enlisted Lassiter's help in getting Shawn onto the gurney and then in wheeling it away when the dark haired one caught sight of Juliet's face and broke away.

"Miss—"

"Detective," Juliet corrected automatically.

"Detective," he amended with a little nod of his head. "Are you all right?"

"Hm? Oh." She waved a hand. "I'll be fine. It was an accident."

"Still. I'd feel better if you'd let me check your pupils."

Juliet sighed, grimaced, and then nodded her assent. "Fine."

"Thank you." He stepped closer, lifting a penlight which he quickly flashed into both eyes, watching her reactions. "Name?"

"Juliet O'Hara. It's Tuesday the twenty-second of September two-thousand and nine, and," she sighed, "my friend just had his arm crushed in a candy machine."

The medic smiled. "Thanks for humoring me. Come on. I'm sure you're anxious to see him get to the hospital."

If only he knew.

~ * ~

"I'm never eating candy again."

Gus snorted. "Please, Shawn. That promise won't even last four hours."

"I'm serious!" Shawn said, eyes fixed on the bandaging swathed around his arm, which he was currently fiddling with.

Gus smacked his hand away. "Yeah, I'm sure you are. For you. I still say in four hours you're going to be up to your nose hairs in candy."

"I do not have nose hair, Gus." His nose wrinkled with distaste.

"Uh, yes, you do, everyone does. And if you're in denial about having them there's no way you trim them."

"Why would I want to trim them? Especially since I don't have them."

"Yes, you do."

"I think I would know if I had—"

The door to Shawn's hospital room swung open and Juliet beamed at them from the doorway, Lassiter lurking like a storm cloud over her shoulder.

"Hey, Shawn, how are you feeling?"

"Hey, Jules I'm doing just dandy how...are...oh my god. Jules! What happened?" he demanded, sitting up to try and get a better look at the massive bruise he could see spanning the length of her cheekbone, creeping in a crescent around her eye and seeping down into the soft part of her cheek to a small split in her upper lip.

Juliet flushed at his reaction and Gus grimaced. Lassiter merely muttered, "You happened, Spencer. That's what."

Shawn's mouth dropped open in shock. "I hit you?" he said, horrified.

"It's not as bad as it looks," she assured him, waving a hand dismissively. Shawn's eyes caught on the dark purple bruises strung along her forearm. His eyes widened even further, his face flushing.

"Those, too?" he guessed. "Jeez, Jules, I—"

"It's okay, Shawn, really," she told him. "You were in pain. Really. It's okay."

Shawn however, grabbed his pillow with one arm and flopped backward, tensing momentarily when his shoulder hit the bed and then pressing the pillow over his face. "Gus, I'm a woman-batterer," his muffled voice moaned through the pillow.

"You really should take advantage of this," Gus advised Juliet. "It's not everyday he's like this. His incredibly malleable when he actually feels guilty."

Juliet smiled but said, "I think I'll pass. Seriously, Shawn. I've gotten worse fighting with my brothers. I'm fine. It's no big deal."

Shawn pulled the pillow up so that he could be heard clearly. "It is never 'fine' to hit a girl, Jules.

Even one who kicks as much ass as you do."

It took a lot of effort to smother the smile that inspired. "I'll tell you what, Shawn. You take me to dinner and we'll call it even."

Shawn's head came up. "Really?"

She snorted. "No, not really. Don't be ridiculous. We're co-workers."

"Damn it," he muttered. "That really would have been a win-win situation."