A/N I am brand new to this writing fanfiction thing. So, there's a possibility I might stink at it! But I've been a long-time reader, and I feel like it's time I "give back." So, let me know what you think. Also, I only have about three chapters planned, and then it's pantsing from then on out. (If I continue at all.) I have no idea how often I'll update. That would depend on reviews and self-discipline, I suppose.

And I don't own Psych. ;)

It was a perfect day for fishing. The sun was hovering low in the Alaskan sky, a slight breeze swayed the boat in a gentle back and forth motion. The only sounds coming from a few of the birds on the shore. But Henry Spencer was not enjoying himself. He couldn't shake the somber mood that had lingered since the funeral the week before, but this trip had cost too much for him to cancel. So, here he sat in mock rest and relaxation on a boat in the waters of the best fishing North America had to offer.

He was startled out of his brooding by the chiming of a familiar ringtone.

Normally, Henry would have left his cell phone in the hotel room, or maybe even back in Santa Barbara, to avoid being interrupted during his fishing trip. But these were not normal circumstances, and for once he was glad for the interruption. He had too much time to think out here. Thinking which led to worrying, which led to tension. He swore that fish could sense tension. In order to be a good fisherman, one had to learn to relax. So, as a result, he was catching no fish. It didn't take him long to decide this was a call worth taking.

"Gus," Henry answered after swiping away the photo of the caller, "Is Shawn ok?"

There was only one reason his son's best friend would be calling him in the middle of his vacation. Gus was acutely aware of other people and seemed to go out of his way to not bother them unless absolutely necessary, or if Shawn forced his hand in some way. Henry had a feeling this call was both absolutely necessary and about Shawn.

"I . . . I don't know. He's not here," Gus said, confirming Henry's suspicions. This was definitely about Shawn. He could feel his blood pressure rising already.

"Where is here, Gus? His house? San Francisco? California? The country? I'm going to need some details."

Henry took a calming breath. It was no fair to go off on Gus like that. Once more he found himself replaying the same guilt track in his mind: he knew he shouldn't have taken this vacation. The timing was all wrong. But he'd been planning it for quite awhile, and he was too cheap to take the loss of the cost of his reservations and airfare. How many times does a man get a chance to go fishing in Alaska?

He should have stayed home. No, he should have stayed in San Francisco. He should have stayed with Shawn.

Maybe he wasn't cheap, maybe he was selfish.

"The car is gone. Norton's still here. A bunch of other stuff looks like it's missing. Almost everything that's left looks broken. I'd almost say burglars ransacked the place except the TV's still here and the XBOX. I kind of understand why he'd do this after . . . but . . ."

"Shawn's gone, you're worried," Henry supplied. Finishing the thought Gus could or would not.

"He ran away again. He won't let us find him until he wants to be found," Gus said, disappointment coloring his words, though who he was upset with, himself or Shawn, Henry couldn't tell.

Shawn had a history of running away from his problems. He would claim to be clearing his head, but really it was his way of avoiding dealing with things. He took nothing in life seriously except himself, but even hid that under several layers of humor and movie references. But Henry knew Shawn better than that. Henry was his father after all. And Shawn was more like him than either man liked to admit. Shawn would initially crave the isolation, but it wouldn't be good for him. Henry was isolated right now, and being alone with his thoughts was too much for even him, and he considered himself pretty far removed from the situation. No, Shawn wouldn't be alone for long. Maybe his decision to trash his home and pack his car had started out as running away, but Henry had a feeling the long drive would take it's toll. And if Henry's instincts were right, and they usually were, he had a feeling he knew where Shawn would end up when he was through being alone.

"Not this time Gus," Henry said, "I think he's going to Santa Barbara." Henry's boat touched the shore and he began to gather up his things with his free hand.

"Why do you think that? I think that would be the last place Shawn would want to go."

"He doesn't want to go there, but that's where we'll find him. Trust me, Gus."

"How can you be so sure?" Gus wanted to trust his best friend's father, but his voice was still laced with doubt. Henry pretended he couldn't hear the insecurity.

"He needs closure, he'll go to the places that make him feel close to her." When it seemed like the other man wasn't going to argue with that logic, Henry asked, "So, how soon can you get to Santa Barbara?"

Henry didn't have to be specific about which her he was talking about. There was just one. The wound was too fresh, even for him, the father-in-law, to simply say her name. Juliet.