1986

Santa Barbara, California

The two boys walked in unaccustomed silence, ducking under a tree and through a loose piece of fence surrounding the school grounds. The usually quieter of the two glanced over at his friend, frowned, and grabbed some acorns from a low hanging branch. In six throws, he managed to score a hit on his friend's knapsack, arm, and finally, head.

His friend barely reacted, kicking a rock as they reached the edge of a field of grass. "What?"

"Usually I can't get you to shut up. Especially after a science test."

"Gus, you just don't get it."

"Then explain it to me."

Shawn kicked another rock as they walked across the field, and yelped as he realized it was only the tip of a much larger rock embedded in the ground. "Ow, ow, ow… stupid rock!" He hopped in a circle, and pulled his foot back to kick it again. Gus abruptly shoved him over backwards, and Shawn landed hard on his backside, staring up at Gus as his hair fell over his eyes. "Hey! What'd you do that for?"

"To keep you from breaking your stupid foot. C'mon, Shawn. What's going on?" Gus stood, waiting for an outburst that never came. Instead, Shawn opened his mouth, closed it, brought his knees up to his chest and dropped his forehead onto them. The sudden emotional silence made Gus worry more than any far-fetched story or insult.

"Nothing." They stood and sat there for a long minute, one not knowing what to say, and one not wanting to say anything. Eventually Shawn sat up, brushed his sleeve across his face. The anger in his voice seemed to be the only thing that kept him from crying. "I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"

His friend shuffled awkwardly, clearly distressed. It was one of those moments that his pre-adolescent mind couldn't quite grasp, but he was old enough to know that something big was going on. He struggled to find some grown-up sounds to go with the grown-up situation. "Okay, Shawn. It's… it's okay." He stepped forward and offered Shawn a hand getting up, which his friend stared at for a moment before he took. "Just…um… if you ever want to talk about… whatever… I'm here. Okay?"

They looked at each other, blue-green meeting deep brown. They didn't have the words yet, but somehow, the fact that there was someone in this insane, adult world that they could tell anything – or not tell anything – meant more then they could express. Shawn glanced across the field towards his backyard, nodded briefly. "Thanks, Gus." He stared at the back of his house, then looked back to his friend with determination. "Someday I'll want to talk about it."

present day

The paper airplane flew across the office, briefly casting a shadow over the letters on the window before hitting Gus in the temple. He jerked his head and turned slowly, glaring at the other desk. "Shawn. I am trying to get something done here. You could at least have the decency –"

"Oh, Gus, come on. You've been staring at that screen for over an hour. What could be so important –"

"You do realize that my other job is the only way I have health insurance."

"Right, right… by the way, did I mention that idea I had –"

"No, Shawn. We are NOT going to become domestic partners so that you can be covered by my health insurance. You need to stop getting business ideas from movies." He returned his attention rather pointedly to his computer.

Shawn rolled his eyes, his hands forming the words as he stalked across the office. "Fine. But you do realize that this job, the real job, the important job, is the reason you stay so healthy."

"Seriously?" Gus stared, his eyes telegraphing an annoyance he didn't really feel. They wouldn't have been the friends they were if he didn't find Shawn entertaining, at the very least.

"Absolutely. This job stimulates your mind, keeps you aware, excited… which releases endorphins, encourages serotonin production… it keeps your immune system on track. It makes perfect sense."

Gus shook his head, giving a disparaging look as he went back to the screen. "Of course it does."

"It does! You have to realize –" the phone rang, interrupting what would surely have been an extended rant about brain chemicals and solving mysteries.

Gus picked up the phone, a relieved look on his face. "Psych Detective Agency. Senior Investigator Burton speaking."

Shawn tipped his head and looked over at him indignantly. "Senior?"

Gus covered the receiver. "It's on my cards."

"Cards? You got cards? Why didn't I-"

"Because you printed your own two months ago, and they said you were President and CEO."

Shawn blinked, an expression of innocent mystification on his face. "Well… I am the psychic."

"Shawn, just - Yes, I'm here. How can I-" Gus nodded, frowned, nodded again. "Fine, Miss Tindale. We have an opening in –" he glanced at Shawn, noisily flipping pages in the pharmaceuticals manual in front of him with one hand as he gestured impatiently with the other, waiting for an answer.

Shawn looked at the remains of lunch on his desk, and the stack of earlier paper airplane flights that had missed, forming a small snowdrift against the wall near Gus's chair. "An hour?"

"An hour. Can you come in then? Good. We'll see you soon. Oh – make sure you bring a picture of your husband. Thank you."

Shawn turned quickly. "No, Gus."

"Come on, Shawn. We haven't had a job from the police in two weeks, and –"

"No, not a divorce case."

Gus stared at his friend for a long moment. "You want to tell me why?"

His partner sat down heavily at his desk, playing absently with some paper clips. "No. Not right now." Gus waited, still watching, as Shawn untwisted a paper clip and formed it into a tiny metal noose. When he held it up with a smirk, the expression on Gus's face made him frown. "What?"

Gus stood up and walked over to Shawn's desk, leaning back against it with his arms crossed on his chest. "You ever going to tell me the whole story?"

Shawn tilted his head, then looked down at his desktop, suddenly quite solemn. "Someday."