As promised, a story where Lassiter and Shawn are trapped in a bad situation. No slash, but if you squint you can maybe imagine some pre-slash if that's your thing. This will be multi-chapter and I'll update as quickly as I can.

Let the story begin...

Lassiter's entire body flinched against his bonds as he heard the sharp retort of a gun just outside of the door to the room he was being held. He hung his head in defeat as the reality of that gunshot set in.

He glanced at the empty chair across the room from him. The only evidence of it ever being occupied was the cut rope and drops of blood dotting the cement floor. The grief began to overwhelm him.

He had failed.

And Spencer paid the price.

18 hours earlier

"Seriously? And you call me immature?" The complaining voice belonged to none other than Shawn Spencer, who currently sat in the back seat of the blue Crown Vic, whose front two seats were occupied by none other than Detective Juliet O'Hara and Detective Carlton Lassiter.

"Shut up, Spencer. This is serious."

"I didn't realize you took Rock, Paper, Scissors so seriously, Lassie. I always pinned you as more of a Russian Roulette kind of guy." Shawn leaned back into the middle seat, fanning himself with his hand.

"Shh, Shawn." The much kinder, and much more beautiful, Juliet said to him, briefly allowing her soft eyes to meet his before returning back to her opponent with a ruthless glare. "Alright, Carlton, you're up by one. Ready?"

"Rock..."

"Paper..."

"Scissors..."

"Shoot!"

"Damn it!" Juliet's sharp retort pierced through the car. Shawn bolted upright to witness the look of defeat on one detective and the sweet thrill of victory on the other.

"Sorry, Detective O'Hara, but I win." Lassiter said with a smug glare. He passed her an envelope and actually had a brief look of sympathy as she began opening her door. The oppressive heat immediately leaked into the car, eliciting a sigh from the back seat occupant. The door closed and Juliet began her trek across the street to the house that the warrant was due.

Shawn lazily rolled his shoulders off of the seat and perched his elbows on his knees while leaning toward the front of the car. "I can't believe you made her go out there, Lassie! Be a gentlemen!" Lassiter rolled his eyes. "It's 104 degrees outside and I won fair and square." The two detectives had been playing this game the entire day. They were tied up until this point, both of them having to deliver warrants to houses four times until now.

"Why does the Chief have you guys delivering warrants anyway? Don't you have serial killers to catch or something?"

"Apparently the heat keeps the criminals away. We haven't had a case in three days." Lassiter used the back of his hand to wipe a drop of sweat that was attempting to trickle down his face. Despite having the AC on high, both the detective and psychic consultant found themselves sweating. "Speaking of which, why are you here?"

"Wow, Lassie, I thought my company was always welcome." Shawn gave him a fake hurt look.

"You thought wrong."

"Well, Gus is out of town, my dad is on some fishing trip, and my apartment doesn't have AC."

"So, naturally, I get the misfortune of spending the hottest week in Santa Barbara history with you?"

"Look on the bright side, Lassieface, if something does come up, you don't even have to call me because I'm already here."

"Let me just thank my lucky stars for that." Lassiter replied in a low, mocking tone, shaking his head in irritation as he turned back toward the front. He glanced out the passenger window to see Juliet peering into one of the windows before leaving the envelope in front of the door. Evidently no one was home and Juliet's trip had been in vain. Then again, delivering these warrants was a menial job. All of the people they were serving were wanted for questioning in relation to crimes such as tax evasion or reckless driving.

"Now can we at least stop for smoothies?"

"Spencer, for the last time, if you want smoothies, you can walk. Now stop talking, it already feels like there's no oxygen in here without you blabbering."

"There's no need to make up words, Lassie."

Lassiter shot him an incredulous look. What did I do to deserve this? He put his car into gear and pulled away from the curb to make a U-turn to make Juliet's walk back a few feet shorter. He stopped his car in the middle of the street, not concerned about traffic due to the residential nature of the neighborhood. They both watched as Juliet made her way down the front steps.

"I'm sure Jules will want a smoothie after being outside. I think that's two to one and you know what that..." Shawn's voice suddenly cut off as his eyes noticed something in the side mirror.

"I know that what?" Lassiter asked in irritation.

"Shh, Lassie!" Shawn waved him off as he craned his neck to get a view behind him. A utility van sat no more than sixty feet behind them. This fact alone was not concerning due to the fact that Santa Barbara was experiencing rolling blackouts. However, this was the same van that was at the last three houses they had visited. Suddenly, the van inched out of its spot next to the curb and Shawn caught a glint of something in the driver's hand. He turned to his right to see Juliet nearly at the sidewalk, completely exposed. He flung open his door before Lassiter could ask what the hell he was doing.

"Jules, get down!" He yelled, gesturing toward the van. She caught sight of the van and saw the gun sticking out of the driver's window and took cover behind the nearest car while simultaneously calling for backup. She drew her own weapon to defend herself but immediately realized a startling fact. The gun wasn't aimed at her.

Shawn was relieved when Juliet took cover. "Lassie, go!"

"Spencer, what the hell are you-" His words were cut off as the back window of the Crown Vic exploded with the concussive force of a bullet. Shawn dove into the back seat and slammed his door shut, his hazel eyes meeting the cold blues of the detective. "Go, go, go!" Shawn yelled, and was immediately thrown against the back seat as Lassiter sped off. "What is this?" The detective asked to no one in particular.

"They've been following us!" Shawn replied, grabbing the side of the door to steady himself. "They didn't even go for Juliet. Lassie, who have you pissed off recently?"

"You're blaming me?" Lassiter yelled back as he maneuvered his car to an outlet street. The utility van followed closely behind but Lassiter was thankful to see that the driver was more focused on driving than shooting. He grabbed the radio and yelled commands into the speaker about their situation and location. Backup was already in route thanks to Detective O'Hara. He made sure a black and white would get to her location to pick her up. "How do you know this is about me?" Lassiter asked as he weaved through a narrow opening. He didn't want to risk any civilians on busy streets so he drove toward the quieter, more "rural" area of town. "You piss me off on a daily basis so I'd assume plenty of others feel the same way!" The detective yelled at the psychic consultant who continued to get tossed about with each turn of the car.

They found themselves on a straight-away and Lassiter ducked as his left mirror exploded next to him. "Great, Mr. Trigger-Happy is back." Shawn said from a hunched position. Their situation was less than ideal. They were on a straight road being followed by a gun-wielding maniac with backup who knows where. "Come on Lassie, go faster!"

"This is faster!"

"Wait up here...take a right!" Shawn yelled. Much to Lassiter's disapproval, Shawn reached forward and grabbed the radio, both of them ducking again as a bullet made contact with the car. "This is Shawn Spencer, currently in the car with a disgruntled detective and being chased by a guy with a gun in a utility van." If Lassiter was in any other situation, he'd punch the psychic himself. "Listen, we are on Mission Canyon road about to take a right on Tunnel road, get the backup to Foothill at the intersection and we will bring him right to you." Shawn dropped the radio and held onto the passenger seat as Carlton drifted around the sharp turn. The person on the radio said that backup was three minutes out. "What's the plan here, Spencer?"

"Take a left into the neighborhood and bring him back to the main road, we just have to keep him occupied for a few minutes." Shawn said, his eyes focusing on every detail of the passing scenery. As they approached the turn, an SUV pulled out directly in front of them, causing Lassiter to jerk the steering wheel to the right to avoid a head-on collision then back to the left to avoid going off the road. Unfortunately for the blue Crown Vic, the SUV did not stop and continued forward, clipping the back end of the car just enough to lift the back left wheel off the ground. Combined with the momentum from the attempted left turn, the swerving car no longer had a chance. "Spencer, hold on!" Lassiter yelled as he realized what was happening. A momentary feeling of weightlessness filled the car as the two left wheels lifted off the ground before the right side of the car skidded across the pavement. The Crown Vic skidded for several yards on its side before finally succumbing to the momentum and gravity. It tipped completely on its roof with a groan, creaking as it shifted back and forth until settling into the dirt.

Once the world stopped spinning, Lassiter shifted to try to escape the crushing pressure of his seatbelt. The buckle stubbornly wouldn't budge and he was left hanging upside down, which did nothing for the headache pulsating through his skull. His heart was pounding in his ears as he heard the unmistakable sound of a door close followed by the cocking of a gun. He heard voices.

"You're not supposed to kill them, you idiot!" One of the voices hissed.

Them?

Lassiter painfully turned his neck toward the back of the car. Shawn's left hand was near his head and Lassiter remembered that the psychic had attempted to hold onto the passenger seat as hell broke loose. He awkwardly reached his hand to grip the wrist of the psychic. The was a pulse. A racing pulse, but Lassiter assumed his felt very similar.

"Spencer?" He asked while attempting to get a view of his face. Shawn was on the floor...well, the roof of the car that was currently serving as the floor. Shawn was on his stomach, his head turned away from Lassiter and toward the broken side window. His left arm was outstretched toward Lassiter and his legs were folded awkwardly against the back of the car. "Spencer!" Lassiter hissed louder, wondering when their pursuers were going to approach. Shawn shifted and let out a slight groan. Lassiter increased his grip on his arm, which was already slick with sweat. "Wake up, this isn't over." Suddenly, a faint sound of sirens filled the air.

"Damn it! Let's go!" A different voice yelled from outside the car. Briefly, Lassiter hoped that meant they would leave but these hopes were squashed as his door was wrenched open and a gun shoved in his direction.

"Alright, detective, don't move. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"A little cliche, don't you think?" Lassiter forced through clenched teeth. All of the blood felt like it was pooling in his pounding head and all he wanted to do was go to sleep, preferably in a cooler environment. A hand reached in and sliced his seatbelt with a knife, causing him to fall ungracefully next to the psychic. Before he could move, hands were on him and pulling him roughly from the car. The heat from the over-bearing sun making beads of sweat form on his forehead immediately. The sirens were getting louder but still too far to help him at this very moment. Getting upright caused his head to spin and his disoriented limbs refused to cooperate. The hands had removed his gun and tied his hands behind his back before he had a chance to defend himself. He was pulled away from the car and led to a different car. The other man went over to Shawn's side. He briefly saw the SUV and utility van blocking the road.

A planned hit?

"Hey he's still alive!" The other man said.

"Well hurry up and get him over here." The man holding Lassiter yelled back. The sirens continued to grow in volume. He led Lassiter to the back seat of the car where another man was waiting in the driver's seat, gun pointing at Lassiter. "I'd recommend not trying anything." The man said as he slammed the door and went back to the totaled Crown Vic. Lassiter momentarily ignored the gun pointed in his direction and turned his head to look out the side window to see the two men haul Shawn's limp body from the car. They half dragged, half carried him to the other back seat door and none too gently dropped him in next to Lassiter. Shawn slumped into Lassiter and the detective could see that he was bleeding from a gash on his head. The man that pulled Lassiter from the car sat in the passenger seat while the other ran back to the utility van. Both cars moved in tandem away from the mayhem, the utility van pulling off into a side street and circling back toward the wreck. A few moments later, several Santa Barbara police cars arrived to the scene of carnage. Two stayed with the scene while the other four went after the wanted utility van which swerved into another street, away from where the detective and psychic consultant were being taken. Lassiter sighed as he realized the gravity of the situation. They were being taken and now the police had no leads on where. He focused himself on the situation in front of him.

Two assailants.

Both armed.

Driver: thirties, ponytail, well-built, tattoos, scars...hired muscle?

Passenger: Average height, average build, well-groomed, short blond hair, early thirties...?

Lassiter was at square one still. Obviously these guys, or at least the passenger, wanted something with them. It would only be a matter of time before he found out. He turned his attention to the psychic next to him who began stirring with a pained gasp.

"Hey Spencer, you can wake up now." Lassiter said as he nudged Shawn with his shoulder. Shawn's hand immediately went to his bleeding head but Lassiter spoke before he could touch it. "Easy, now you don't want to touch that."

"L'ssie? Wha' h'ppen? Shawn slurred, his eyes still squeezed shut.

"Long story, open your eyes." Shawn did as he was told, squinting against the offending sunlight. His eyes peered through slits as he took in the image of the detective sitting next to him. Lassiter was patient as the injured man slowly got his bearings. "Why aren't you dr'ving?" Shawn asked, his alertness increasing with each minute.

"Spencer, we were taken. Do you remember?"

A confused look crossed the psychic face which was immediately followed by a look of panic. "Jules! Is she...she was..."

"She's fine. She called for backup. Relax." The stress and shock was taking a toll on the psychic's wellbeing. Lassiter could see the beads of sweat dripping from his face and neck, mixing with blood and staining his light plaid shirt. He was breathing rapidly and the pain was evident in his voice. "I know your head hurts, you've got a nasty cut up there. Besides that, how do you feel?" Lassiter asked as Shawn leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Didn't think you cared..."

"I don't. I just don't want to have to carry you."

"My legs are fine. Shoulder's on fire though." Shawn said lazily. Lassiter glanced toward the psychic's shoulders, noticing that the right one looked slightly uneven in comparison to the left.

"It looks dislocated." Lassiter turned back toward the front of the car, remembering they weren't alone in this situation. "Hey, I don't know what your plan is here, but kidnapping a detective and a police consultant probably isn't your brightest plan. He needs a hospital."

"You'll get nothing and like it."

Lassiter sat back. Another cliche from his captor silencing him. He struggled against his bonds, realizing an escape attempt was futile.

Shawn was thankful to not be restrained, but the pulsating pain in his shoulder and the dizzying ache radiating from his head kept him moving as little as possible. Even if he could move, the gun pointed in his direction urged him otherwise. He knew this situation was bad. If the guys taking them wanted them dead, they'd already be dead. But since they were taken in such an elaborate manner, it meant these criminals wanted something from them. Shawn didn't particularly want to find out the lengths they would go to get it.

The car went over a bump and Shawn couldn't hold back a whimper of pain. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain in his body was getting turned up in intensity every second. Lassiter shot him a sympathetic glance and Shawn was surprised to see the helplessness lurking beneath the cool blue orbs.

Lassiter felt his heart clench as Shawn's distress continued. Lassiter was incredibly sore from the car crash, but mostly from his seatbelt and the likely whiplash he experienced. He couldn't imagine the beating that Shawn's unrestrained body took as the car was struck and turned over. No, he did not particularly care for the psychic, but Spencer was a human being who had proven himself useful to the police department and seeing him in this condition only fueled his anger toward his captors.

"Mind telling us where we are headed?" Lassiter hissed from the back seat.

"Shut up or the psychic here buys a bullet."

Lassiter was taken aback. Threatening Shawn to get Lassiter to comply? Suddenly it all made sense.

Shawn was leverage.

Let me know what you think.