A/N: Hi Guys! This is my first EVER fanfic, and I hope you like it. I've tried to make this first chapter interesting, and I promise, this isn't my best work. I can write waaaay more action than this, so just hang with me here! This story is set around mid-season 7, and Juliet has forgiven Shawn for lying, and knows how he does the awesome stuff he does.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Psych, or any characters from the show, and I own especially nothing in this chapter.

Ch 1: Flashing Back

1991

"Shawn!" Gus cried. "This is crazy! Your dad could be back any minute now. We'll be caught, and you'll be grounded, and then I'll be grounded, and I donot want to be grounded."

"Gus, if you help me, we can do this. Dad doesn't need to know. But if you hesitate any longer, he'll be here, and both of us will be grounded most definitely," 13-year-old Shawn Spencer said conspiratorially, with a quirk of an eyebrow. With one swift glance over his shoulder from where he and his cocoa-skinned best friend were sitting, he placed the barrel of his father's emergency gun on the edge of the overturned table. He peeked over the edge and closed one eye, trying to wrap his right hand pointer finger around the trigger. But the gun was too damn heavy to be balanced with just one hand while crouching behind a table. Stopping his wobbly hand from dropping the gun over the other side of the table, Shawn took his aim, and stabilized the table with his left hand.

"Shawn!" Gus warned.

"Gus?" Shawn muttered, eyes never leaving the target, the bird's nest on the tree in the Spencers' backyard.

"Yeah . . .?" Gus replied reluctantly after a while, still wary of his over energetic friend.

"Shut up." With that, Shawn tightened his grip around the trigger, took a deep breath, and . . .

"SHAWN LANCE SPENCER!"

Shawn dropped the gun in alarm, trying to balance himself with the help of his left hand.

Crack! The table landed over the gun, with Shawn on top.

"What do you think you are doing?!" Henry demanded angrily, face pink with anger. Shawn staggered to his feet, and scanned the area for Gus. Where did that little dollop of chocolaty goodness disappear off to?

"Um . . . Dad! Hey! Have you seen . . ." he trailed off, realizing that pink had, apparently, not been the only colour his father's face could attain. The colour was slowly darkening . . . red . . . redder yet . . . purple.

Okay. This will be a good time to say absolutely nothing except for what is asked.

"Well, uh . . . you always said that to be a successful detective, you have to overcome fear of new experiences . . . so I thought I'll try it out beforehand because—" Shawn was cut off by his father, whose face slowly started to become normal again. "Once you familiarize with something, you don't fear it . . . and we know that practise makes perfect," his father finished. Sighing, Henry took his son by the shoulders and steered him towards the backdoor of the house . . .

For a moment Shawn envied Gus. Obviously, he was getting away scot-free. But then Henry reached behind the potted plants on both sides of the back porch, tugging on the white shirt peeking out within the leaves, "You too, Gus."

Henry steered the terrified boys inside the house, to the living room, and stood in front of them, crossing his arms as he levelled his gaze onto them.

"Gus . . . why did you hide?" Henry demanded. Both the kids blinked when they heard Henry addressing Gus first.

"Um . . . I got scared. Plus, is wasn't my idea Mr. Spencer!" Gus said, quaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm.

Henry rested his hands on his knees, coming to eye level with Gus. "Okay, listen up, Burton Guster. Never, ever abandon your partner. No matter what. Fine! It was Shawn's idea. Fine, you protested. But when you have a partner as stubborn, you might as well give in. And maybe . . . sometimes plans work out, no matter how unrealistic or foolhardy. Except, in this case . . ." he turned his head sharply towards his own son, ". . . the plan was even more foolhardy and stupid than the acceptable. What were you thinking, Shawn?"

Shawn's left eye twitched once, but he refused to match his dad's gaze.

Henry sighed. "Shawn, son, listen to me . . . you made a plan . . . and you executed it. Great. That is what makes a great detective. Following your instincts. But you can't execute a plan until and unless you have the required backup. In this case, I was the necessary backup. I had to be there so I could teach you. One day, you'll be on the force, you'll have a family of your own . . . and you'll have responsibilities. You can't just up and do whatever on your whims. What do you know now?"

Shawn met his father's gaze and said slowly, "Trust your instincts?"

"And?"

"And what?"

"Shawn."

"Okay, fine, think before you do something."

Henry smiled, pulling his tie loose, "Attaboy!"

A/N: Sorry for such a short chapter. I just knew that the Spencers' middle name started with an 'L', so I just gave it a shot. I will update in the tomorrow, promise!