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(White) Collar Optional (14/?)

Title: (White) Collar Optional
Fandom: Psych, White Collar
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Peter, Neal, Henry, Juliet, Lassiter & Vick with cameos from Mozzie, El, Diana & Jones
Word Count: 1037
Rating: PG-13
Overall Summary: In New York, Peter and Gus search for what happened to Neal and Shawn. In California, Shawn and Neal escape a little too easily, making them wonder if Ridley has other plans.
Notes: Okay, I'm finally posting the sequel to Psychic in the City. It's still unfinished so posting will stay with Wednesdays until further notice. I'd also like to thank my three betas snowflakie06, slytheringurrl and the_moogie

Ein Deux Tre Cuatro Pyat' έξι sju dziewięć nove deset elf dó dhéag hamahiru





Henry was pushing his truck as much as he dared. The engine conking out before they got there would defeat the purpose of rushing out to save the two of them in the first place. Gus and Peter continued to call Shawn and Neal but with no luck. Shawn was definitely going to get more than a piece of his mind when he caught up with them. What the hell was he thinking, taking off like that without backup? He could forgive him – a bit – when it was in town because they’d find him eventually, but this? This was going across the state and after an infamous criminal. He had read up on Ridley once he learned of his involvement. Of all the criminals his son had to piss off, it had to be a crime boss wanted for extortion, money laundering and armed robbery.

“Mr. Spencer!”

Henry was shaken out of his thoughts by Gus’ shout. “What?”

“We need to stop for gas.”

Henry looked at the gauge and saw the needle hovering over the “E”. How had he not noticed? Thinking about Shawn, of course. “Fine. Let me know when the next station is coming up.”

Peter spotted the next station and Henry pulled in. Due to the station’s location, it could charge what it wanted, which was astronomical even for California. Peter charged it on his card saying he would get reimbursed. They each used the restroom and bought bottled water. Henry then warned Gus that in no uncertain terms was he allowing smelly snack food in his truck. Refreshed, they continued as they started.

It was dark when they reached Palm Springs. Gus used his phone to pull up directions. The gate was brightly lit to make identification easy. There were small lights lining the drive up to the main entrance. A dark sedan was parked under the portico but there was no sign of Gus’ car. Did Peter pick the wrong guy?

Henry reached out and pressed the button for the intercom. “We’re--”

“You’d better be the FBI or the police,” declared the shaky voice on the other end. “They said the FBI would be coming.”

“Yeah, we are,” Henry answered, surprised.

The gate started to open. “Three guys have Mr. James and two guests in the office. Down the hall on you right when you come in. I’ve already called 911,” he added.

The second he could, Henry gunned the truck up the drive to the house, kicking up gravel on the turn. He braked to a halt facing the parked sedan and shut off the engine almost as an afterthought. He and Peter rushed up the stairs and into the house. Gus followed, knowing to stay behind when guns and shooting were involved – unlike Shawn. Shawn, who was in a room being held at gunpoint, trying to talk himself out of being shot. Hopefully, he succeeded.

There were four men in the hall, guns drawn and aimed into the room. Henry’s heart was in his mouth. Shawn was in that room. One of the men turned towards them. Henry held up one hand to placate him as Peter showed his badge. The man nodded and stepped back, motioning the others to allow them to pass.

The sight that met them was not what he expected. Henry’s eyes immediately found Shawn who was kneeling beside a man he assumed to be Cameron James. Shawn and Neal were applying pressure to a bleeding wound. He had been the one shot. Correction: one of the men shot. In the middle of the floor was a body lying face-down, a growing pool of blood. This must be Ridley, he thought. He then noticed two men restraining another two men. The explanation was going to be interesting.

“FBI!” Peter declared.

All heads turned in what could be construed – under different circumstances – as comical.

“Dad!”

“Peter!”

“What happened?” demanded Peter. “Neal,” he clarified as everyone began talking at once.

“Shawn and I were here to tell James that a man was going to approach him to sell an artefact stolen from the Met.”

Henry had to give Caffrey credit for his story. Everyone here knew James bought off the black market.

“That’s when Ridley and his men came in. Let’s just say, he wasn’t happy to see us. Things got a little heated. James made a move Ridley didn’t like so he shot. James’ men then shot Ridley.”

Henry looked at Shawn for confirmation. His son nodded in a way that told Henry he’d get the details later.

The police soon arrived and took control of the situation, handcuffing Ridley’s men and escorting them from the premises. The EMTs rushed straight to James knowing that Ridley was beyond their assistance, Shawn and Neal backed away and watched as the medics worked. Henry took advantage of the moment and rested a supportive hand on his son’s shoulder. It was brief, but they both needed the contact. Gus had edged into the room where he could see everyone, but not the blood. James’ wound was a through shot and the EMTs had him patched up and ready to move. Peter was given the name of the hospital so he could be interviewed in the morning.

As he was not a witness to the event or investigating the case, Henry was relegated to waiting in the foyer with Gus. He couldn’t help but replay the sight of Shawn, his hands covered in blood. The kid had come close to dying so many times and, each time Henry wondered how he would cope, how he would continue should his only child die. He took a deep breath to regain control. Gus, thankfully, let him be.

Henry looked over at Gus, who, for all intents and purposes, was his second son. Shawn’s death would have hit him just as hard. The man in question was concentrating on his phone like it was some kind of lifeline. “What’re you doing?”

“Since Peter needs to question James in the morning, we need a hotel for the five of us. I’ve found a couple of possibilities.”

Henry looked at the screen to see photos of meals. “That doesn’t look like a hotel room to me.”

“Dinner. Shawn hasn’t eaten for hours. I’m surprised he’s still functioning.”

“Just barely,” came Caffrey’s voice. “The adrenaline is wearing off.”

Henry and Gus looked up to see Shawn, Peter and Caffrey coming their way. Henry could see that Shawn had some energy left but needed to recharge his batteries.

“Please tell me you found jerk chicken.”

“You know that’s right.”

As the two friends bumped fists, Henry wanted to roll his eyes. He smiled instead.

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