DAY 1.

1100 HRS.

I swear people think I'm some kind of social recluse or something. When you're the guest of honour at your own leaving party, you should be made to feel special. Happy. Maybe a little sad to be leaving the people of your old vocation behind. But certainly not made to feel like an idiot.

Though that's just me, I guess. I only really have one close friend. Besides that, I tend to get on much better with dogs than with people. How can I help it? Dogs listen much better than people do. But the way my colleagues, or old colleagues now, went on about it -especially at my leaving party - you'd think I was some kind of alien. Despite the fact that we all worked with dogs. I still just had to be the weird one, apparently.

I would have loved nothing better than a good drink or four - it might have made the ongoing jokes a little easier - but I really couldn't have afforded it with my new start this morning. So instead, I'd put up with it and then ducked out as soon as I could make excuses for, also successfully scoring myself an early night in bed in the process. Win-win.

I was certainly grateful for it today. It gave me plenty of time to shower and get ready without feeling the need to rush and then be likely to forget something. I received one last joke before my big start. This from my best friend, Jenns.

'Remember, don't feed the humans. They may bite.'

At least there was actually some humour in that one. It even earned a small smile from me, though I'd never admit it. Not like the more disturbing, though apparently made in good intent, jibes about me having unhealthy relationships with my furry friends. All of it untrue, of course. Sadly, that was just the bane of being everyone's punch line.

But not anymore. Today was the day that I was moving on from training dogs and instead onto training... well, me. I guessed I was to be the test subject from now on. Though it seemed like a huge changeover, it wasn't really. I was still working in a relative field. I'd spent the last seven years training up police dogs and now I was training to become an officer of the law myself.

I sent Jenns a snarky reply before turning my phone off. I didn't want to be the bad student whose phone rang during class. After making sure I had everything I could possibly need - including the old inhaler that I hadn't needed for years and which would probably have fermented into some kind of narcotic by now, knowing my luck - I locked up the apartment, got into my car and headed down to the Santa Barbara Police Academy.

Police work had always been an interest of mine. I'd majored in my behavioural psychology degree and minored in zoology (because apparently, I wasn't allowed to only like one thing). Amazingly, it was that minor that had then taken priority with my attention. I'd gotten into the police field as planned, but ended up training police dogs instead. And I'd loved every minute of it.

When I eventually decided to go into the force myself after all, I was put straight onto a personal crash course through special recommendation from the training company I'd been with - a recommendation that had gone through the Santa Barbara Police Department itself. I'd get my own personal instructor for the first week before joining the group training with the rest of the cadets. Sometimes, it was just all about who you knew.

Academy training didn't actually start till noon, meaning I was a teeny bit early. And by teeny, I meant an hour. I'd always been on the opposite end of the scale to tardy. It was all part of the I-don't-like-rushing scheme. Plus I preferred having my own time to familiarise myself with people and places. Particularly important ones like this.

And as it was, my instructor didn't seem to mind my crazily early appearance. Or at least, if he did, then he was too polite to mention it.

"My name's Officer Nick Conforth, Associate Head of the Academy and in charge of all cadet training. I'll be your instructor for the entirety of this course," he introduced himself, dutifully holding out his hand.

He had dark, almost black hair, with brown eyes only a few shades lighter. Fairly standard build for an officer, though probably a little below average height. He had reasonably tanned skin, either from spending a lot of time outdoors or through heritage - maybe some kind of Italian or Hispanic descent... Yes, I'm training to be a cop; of course I always have to profile people.

"Rudi Hassle," I replied, responding to the handshake and waiting for the inevitable 'Oh, are you going to give me hassle then?' joke. Which never came. That had to have been a first. Score one to him.

I was handed a folder. "This contains your itinerary and all necessary information regarding your training programme. The course will be split equally amongst theoretical education, fieldwork and physical training."

"Sounds good," I complied, taking the folder and tucking it under my arm. I'd always liked a good mix.

"Over the next two weeks, you will be put through intensive exercises, training you to instinctively think and act like an officer of the law," Conforth detailed. "For the first week, you'll be working directly with me, as requested by the S.B.P.D. For the second week, you'll be training amongst a group of other cadets too."

I nodded. This part I already knew, but at least I could see he was clearly a man of procedure. He definitely had a very professional air about him. "Right."

He presented me with a plastic box. "All of your equipment can be found in here. The guns and badges are props, but everything else is what is issued to all current officers."

Of course, I had to have a quick rifle through the box as he was talking. There was quite a lot of gear, though I'd already anticipated that. Maybe I'd have to allocate extra time for getting ready if I was to be making sure I had everything on me every day.

"An officer's possessions are their personal responsibility," Conforth continued. "You are to account for your equipment at all times. Is everything clear so far?"

"Crystal," I confirmed without hesitation. Hell, now that I was down here, I just wanted to get down to business. Maybe I'd skip the familiarising part after all.

That actually earned me a small smile. Hey, I could do professional too, you know. Conforth handed me a final package. It contained a cadet's uniform and a grey tracksuit with 'S.B.P.D. Cadet' printed on the chest. "Then I guess the only thing left to say is welcome to the Academy."

I resisted the urge to give a comic salute and bark 'sir, yes, sir' in response. If I didn't like people using cliché jokes on me, then I couldn't really do the same to others. Even though I personally thought it would have been quite amusing.

So instead, I just returned the smile and said, "Thank you. I'm looking forward to the programme." I meant it too. I was determined to do well at this and prove everyone from my old team wrong. I could work with people just as well as I could with dogs.

Plus if I could do even half as good a job as the dogs that I'd trained, then that alone would feel like a personal sense of achievement.

XXX

DAY 2.

1300 HRS.

It didn't take long to become apparent that I'd never quite escape my doggy-loving roots, even if I'd wanted to. They'd just always hold that huge soft spot in my heart. I can coo over dogs the way most women would over babies.

What made it obvious was when I spotted a large tan bloodhound lying on a mat in the doorway behind one of the desks, lazily observing the room around him. He was big, with long floppy jowls and permanently sad-looking eyes. He was gorgeous.

"Heeey, who's this?" I asked endearingly, navigating my way around the desk so that I could kneel down beside him.

Conforth looked round from his desk. "Oh, that's our scent dog. He's the best scent dog on the force."

I scratched behind the dog's ears and smiled. I loved when dogs had 'smushy faces', as I'd always said when I was younger. Oh, who was I kidding? I still said that now. I'd never found a better term for it. "He's lovely. He kinda looks like that guy from King Creole."

"Let me guess; Walter Matthau?"

"Yeah, that's the one." I turned and saw that Conforth had raised his eyebrows and was giving me a strange look. "What?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing. Never mind."

I just shrugged it off. "So what's this guy's name?"

"Fenway."

Okay, now that was adorable. Plus the name actually struck a chord in my memory. "He wasn't from San Andres Training by any chance, was he?"

"Actually, he was. That's where we get all of our trained dogs from," said Conforth, nonplussed. "How did you know?"

I knew it. "That's where I worked up until now," I explained, my attention back on tickling Fenway's chin. "I wasn't there at the time, but this guy's actually on our doggy wall of fame as one of our best old students. I thought I recognised that face."

"I'm not surprised by that - he's assisted in solving over fifty cases," said Conforth proudly. He gained another point for that. "I wasn't aware you trained police dogs before now; I was only told that you were in a relative field."

"Yeah, I kinda fell into it by accident. And then it ended up taking priority over becoming a cop," I admitted. I added jokingly, "But this year, I figured it was time to stop playing with dogs and try working with people instead."

"It's clearly going well already," said Conforth pointedly with the barest hint of a smile, referring to how I was obviously currently more interested in petting Fenway than anything else.

I grinned sheepishly in response. "Hey, it's only my second day. We'll just say I'm still learning."

Yeah. Those doggy-loving roots clearly weren't going anywhere.

XXX

DAY 3.

1600 HRS.

I love physical training.

All those of years of being an exercise geek - yes, I'm one of those nerds who jogs with a pedometer, iPod armband, heart rate monitor, you name it - finally paid off. I was sure that I'd have been star pupil today if I'd actually had other classmates to contend with. Hey, sometimes overconfidence can be beneficial.

Like any exercise, I'd had to start with some warm-ups. Squats, jumping jacks, various stretches... You know, the basic stuff. Then after that, I got to hit the assault course. And oh man, was that fun.

There were balance beams, a tyre run, various-heighted hurdles, a climbing wall and a swinging rope positioned over a pool of water. The course basically required a combination of balance, stamina and climbing skills. And obviously speed, if you wanted to complete it in a good time. No sweat.

One of my favourite hobbies in my free time is rock climbing, so the balance, the upper body strength and the climbing parts were all a total breeze. Plus I'd had enough practice at competitive jogging to keep my speed up too.

The balance beams were easy-peasy. So was the climbing wall. I hadn't expected to do as well on the tyre run - my legs aren't exactly on the long end of the spectrum - but it clearly just comes down to thinking about your footwork. I managed to keep up a fairly medium pace when tackling the tyres. That was good enough for me.

The hurdles were a lot of fun. They were spaced out at specific intervals, but all fixed at different heights. They were designed to push you to make snap decisions, choosing which would be easier to scale and which would be easier to duck underneath. I'm quite a quick, logical thinker - mostly derived from too many Friday nights in alone, doing puzzles and watching TV - so I had no problems there.

The rope swing kinda comes down to judgement too, to know the exact moment you need to jump off. Part judgement and part, you know, the ability to hold yourself up on a rope. Plus it made me feel like a total action hero. I was tempted to gush, 'Can I do it again? Can I do it again?' but figured acting like a child probably wouldn't put me in any good books. So I bit my tongue on that one.

Conforth clicked his stopwatch and called the time on the display. It sounded good to me, but then I didn't exactly know what the average was for this course.

"You beat the average completion time by eleven seconds. That's quite impressive." Even he sounded surprised, much to my amusement. Most people tended to put me down as a bookworm type, rather than an action woman. I was used to it.

"Great!" I was pleased with myself. If the rest of the course was like this, then I'd be a qualified cop in less than two weeks' time.

"You lost some time on the tyre run, so with practice, your score could be even better," Conforth added. "But for the most part, your speed was great. You have good stamina."

"Yeah, that's what all the guys say," I joked without thinking.

As soon as I did, I regretted it. Conforth clearly had no idea what to say to that. Why had I had to go and say such a dumb thing? I didn't know him well enough to make jokes like that. Jenns would have loved it, but as it was, Conforth just looked quite uncomfortable. Which only made me feel embarrassed too.

"Sorry, I didn't mean... I mean, what I meant was, erm..." I gave up trying and looked for a way to change the subject instead. "So, err, can I try the course again to see if I can beat my time?"

"Err, sure." Conforth cleared his throat and quickly regained his composure. "I'll restart the clock."

I hastily headed back to the beginning of the assault course. Oh, man, the guys at San Andres would have been laughing so hard at me if they'd heard that, I thought to myself grumpily. I'd originally hoped that this programme would help me to not make an ass out of myself.

Though maybe that was just something else I'd never be able to escape from. Rudi Hassle: Grade A Idiot. That's me.

"And go!" Conforth called, starting the stopwatch.

I took off, throwing myself at the course ahead of me again to try and occupy my mind with something other than my dumb comment. Apparently, overly physical work isn't the best way to distract yourself. Instead, it just seemed to make my performance sloppy. I did even worse on the tyre run than before and then felt I was slower on all of the other obstacles too.

I could have just been imagining it because I still felt embarrassed about my poorly made joke. I did consider that possibility... Until I took the rope swing too early and landed right on the precipice of the small pool, losing my balance and falling backwards onto my ass in the dirty water.

Yeah, I definitely should have stuck with my original time.

XXX

DAY 4.

1400 HRS.

I didn't enjoy shooting practice even half as much as I had the physical training. Well... my first, non-failed attempt at it anyway. I was still trying to forget that the second round had even happened.

Armed with a gun, yellow-tinted safety glasses and big, blue noise-reducing headphones, I'd made my way around a course of pop-up cardboard cut-outs of supposed 'criminals' and 'innocent bystanders'. Conforth had followed, wearing the same protective gear and carrying a clipboard.

"You're quick to react and good at making fast judgements..." he began, after we'd both removed the headphones.

"But my aim sucks," I finished for him, lifting my safety glasses and pushing them back up onto my head. I hadn't done anywhere near as well on this part of the training as I would have liked.

"It's average," Conforth corrected me. "The potential's there - you just need more practice in order to improve."

I'd always thought that average generally sounded like a back-handed compliment, but on this occasion, I wasn't offended in the slightest. Conforth was about as professional as they got. If something needed improvement, then he'd say so. He could be complimentary too, when it was deserved. I actually couldn't have asked for a better instructor.

But that didn't really change the fact that ten days didn't seem like a very long time to make said improvement.

I sighed. "Have you got any pointers you can give me?"

"Sure. Show me your aim."

"Okay." I raised the gun, using my right hand to steady my left, like he'd shown me when we'd first started.

"Keep your thumb straight so that it doesn't get in the way of your support hand," Conforth directed. "And make sure there's no spaces between your fingers - keep your support hand cupped tightly."

I readjusted my grip slightly. "Like this?"

"That's it. And always keep both eyes open," Conforth added. "Closing one actually alters your perspective, rather than improving your aim."

Wow, how John Smith of him. "This way I'll see twice as well, huh?"

"That's right." I guessed most guys didn't get minor Disney references. "Closing one eye only helps if you have double vision. And if that's the case, then you definitely shouldn't be shooting a gun."

"Wait, was that a joke I just heard?" I said teasingly.

"Maybe." Conforth gave me a tight smile in return. "Now put your safety glasses and headphones back on and try again. I want you to shoot that cut-out over there. Aim for the middle of the head."

I obligingly pushed my glasses down and fixed the headphones back into place, whilst Conforth did the same. I raised the gun again, adjusting my fingers into the position that he'd just shown me, and shot at the target. The slightly different hold did help a little with the recoil. The gun didn't seem to jump in my hand quite as much.

It still didn't negate it entirely though. The bullet still jumped higher than I'd wanted it to, tearing a hole through the very edge at the top of the cut-out's head. Less than a centimetre higher and I would have missed it entirely. I'd actually been aiming for where the cardboard crook's mouth was. Goddamn it.

Conforth put a hand in front of me, signalling me to stop and take the headphones off again. "You're still not allowing enough for the recoil," he said, once my hearing was free of obstruction. "Your shots are going too high."

I felt frustrated with myself. Why was I struggling with this so much? I guessed I'd been naive in expecting it to be easy. "Let me watch you do it."

Conforth raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

"I don't know. For inspiration or something." I shrugged. "Come on, you know you want to."

Why is it that those are the magic words that work on any guy? Even a professional like Conforth. They just can't seem to resist the whole macho display opportunity.

He took the gun and motioned for me to put my headphones back on, which I did more eagerly this time. How often was it that you got to watch an official police officer fire a weapon? He fixed his own headphones into place again, took steady aim with the gun and fired.

It took me a few seconds to spot where the bullet had hit. It was right along the top edge of the cut-out, directly beside and intertwining with the hole that I'd already made. How the hell could you aim at and successfully hit something as tiny as another bullet hole?

"That was amazing!" I exclaimed, tearing my headphones off again. "How did you do that?"

"Years of practice and concentration," Conforth replied professionally, though I could see the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yeah, he was totally pleased.

"Seriously, that was really impressive," I commended him. "Are you one of those people who could, like, shoot a gun out of someone's hands?"

"That would be highly dangerous. Not to mention near impossible."

"But still doable, right?"

"Let's just stick with the target boards for now," Conforth backtracked. "Now, headphones back on. I want you to try again."

XXX

DAY 5.

1400 HRS.

Today was my first experience being out in the field. It wasn't as glamorous as it sounded. We were driving round part of downtown Santa Barbara on patrol in Conforth's police cruiser. Not hugely exciting, but a necessary part of police work. And it did present more opportunity for conversation. Anyone who knows me knows that I can talk. A lot.

In contrast, Conforth wasn't really the biggest talker - I doubted he dropped that professional air even at home - but I felt I did manage to get him to open up a little more. Just a little.

"So did you attend the same academy when you were in training?" I asked.

"The very same," said Conforth, his dark eyes never leaving the road ahead as we cruised along.

"I bet you were one of the best students, weren't you?" I grinned. I totally couldn't forget that shot that he'd made yesterday.

That ghost of a smile touched his lips again. "I may have graduated in the top spot."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Why am I not surprised?"

Conforth smiled properly that time. "It wasn't actually that easy. Another cadet and myself were competing for that spot throughout the whole programme. He was even convinced that I cheated on the final exam."

"And did you?" I teased, amused.

"Miss Hassle, I'm offended that you'd even think that."

"Kidding, kidding," I grinned, though I could tell from his tone that he already knew that. "And please, just call me Rudi. I've never liked 'miss'. If you're a miss in your thirties, then it makes you sound like an old spinster."

He actually chuckled at that. "Alright then. I'll remember that."

"So did you always want to teach new cadets?" I continued, back onto questioning. "Or were you training to become a police officer at first?"

"I was originally training to join the force. I worked in the field for a little while before I decided to return to the Academy," said Conforth.

"How long did you work in the field for?"

"Six months."

Wow, that really was only a little while. I was no stranger to changing vocation myself, so of course, I wasn't judging. I was just nosy. "So how come you changed your mind?"

"It just turned out that I was more interested in teaching," Conforth replied shortly.

I could tell then that he wasn't entirely telling the truth. My psychology degree started to kick in as I noticed the change in the tone of his voice, how his hands had tightened on the steering wheel, the fact that he was staring straight ahead without blinking anymore...

But I could also tell that it wasn't my business. I may have been nosy, but I still knew when best to let things lie. It was obvious when a person didn't want to talk about something.

"Well, you definitely do a good job," I commended, as my way of apologising for straying into tense territory. I then sat back in my seat and switched to looking out of the passenger window instead.

The conversation died out after that and I cursed myself for ruining the progress that I'd made. Though as it was, the patrol ended up getting cut short anyway. We'd been driving slowly along the back road outside a rundown convenience store when something caught Conforth's attention.

He suddenly tensed in his seat, sitting bolt upright. "That man going into the store has a gun."

"Wait, what?" I exclaimed, amazed. What kind of idiot would attempt a store robbery with a police car driving past?

"He must not have seen us. He was concentrating on the store," said Conforth, answering my unasked question. He ripped the radio from his lapel and spoke quickly into the mouth piece, his eyes flitting towards the GPS display attached to the dashboard. "This is Officer Conforth, requesting immediate back-up for a potential armed robbery of Angelo's Convenience on Ortega Street."

Luckily, he received an immediate reply from another officer, promising to be only five minutes away. Conforth had clearly picked quite a notorious area to patrol. It was all very interesting, but what I didn't get was why we were both still sitting in the cruiser.

"Shouldn't we get in there? Or you, at least?" I asked. The most he'd done was move the car further along the street, stopping where we could still see the store, but so that most of the car was hidden behind some scraggly bushes.

Conforth seemed to hesitate, though I wasn't sure why. "I can't get a cadet involved in a potential act of robbery. And I can't leave you alone in the cruiser - you're supposed to be under my supervision at all times during this patrol."

I guessed that made sense. At least we supposedly only had five minutes before another officer would be on the scene. But it still didn't feel right to just sit there.

"Besides, it probably isn't likely to be an actual robbery," Conforth added. "It's a tiny, old store. It wouldn't be worth much of a hold-up."

"So if he's not robbing the place, then what does he need a gun for?" I questioned.

"A feud with the owner, most likely. It's probably just a scare tactic, if anything."

"It still seems stupid to go waving a gun around in broad daylight, even if it is just as a threat," I commented.

"He had the gun concealed. But you could tell he was armed from the way he'd positioned his jacket and how he held his hand at his hip," Conforth explained. "Even from the way that he walked."

I couldn't deny that I was impressed. I already knew that he was a total pro at his job, but he really did know his stuff. Yet, something still seemed amiss. He seemed incredibly tense, even for the current situation. His hands had tightened on the steering wheel again, more so than before - to the point where his knuckles were straining white against his skin.

Again, I knew better than to say anything. I was only the student here. He was probably just worried about having a cadet so close to a potential police incident. It must have been hard for him to sit there and wait for a second officer, rather than being able to just take things into his own hands. I knew that I would have been dying to get involved if I'd been in his shoes.

An unmarked cruiser turned up not long afterwards. A tall officer got out and simply nodded at Conforth, with no further exchange, before heading straight into the convenience store. Only then did Conforth seem to relax slightly.

"Sorry to cut this short, but I think we're best to head back to the Academy," he said.

"Shouldn't we wait to see what happens?" I asked uncertainly.

"No can do. If worst comes to worst and it turns into a shoot-out, then I can't have a cadet in the vicinity," replied Conforth. "It's in that officer's hands now. He'll have called for more back-up himself if he thought it necessary."

More proof that I was just the student and Conforth was the teacher. "I guess..." I agreed reluctantly, sitting back in my seat again.

"Don't worry. You'll get your share of excitement yourself once you've graduated," Conforth assured me, pulling back out onto the street.

I couldn't help but smile at that. He'd hit the nail on the head. It was pretty annoying having just been so close to a potential incident, but having to have stayed on the sidelines. I couldn't wait to get my own badge - then I wouldn't have to worry about such heavy supervision.

If all went well, then it'd only be nine days to go. Just nine more days.

XXX

DAY 6.

1230 HRS.

Because the first patrol had been cut short, we were trying again today. I'd originally not thought much of the idea of patrolling. Again, dull, but necessary. But it had already started to grow on me. It was a really good way to familiarise yourself with the area that you were patrolling.

Plus I was a really nosy passenger, so I was just happy that I wasn't the one driving. Today we were driving around a slightly nicer neighbourhood than yesterday. I didn't expect any excitement this time, but I still kept an interested eye out.

To my surprise, Conforth took the reins on conversation this time. "So what prompted the career change? You said you were at San Andres for... seven years, was it?" Wow, a man who actually listened. Good cop, you get a cookie.

"Well, I'd always wanted to be a police officer, even if I did get a little distracted by a different opportunity," I explained. I then laughed. "But I got to the stage where I felt that the dogs were doing more police work than I was. So I wanted to get stuck in and do more to actually help people myself."

"I think what you were doing was already enough in that respect," said Conforth. "Scent dogs have to be trained by somebody. And San Andres has turned out some of the best working dogs on the force."

I was a little taken aback. I hadn't been expecting a compliment. "Oh... Thanks." I then added hastily, "You do a lot to help people too, doing what you do."

"Now you're just kissing up to the teacher," Conforth smiled, his eyes still on the road.

I laughed. It was nice to see that he did have a sense of humour. "Well, you can't blame a girl for trying... Or an old woman, more like."

"Rudi, I think it'll be a long time before you class as an old woman."

"I think you're flattering me, Officer Conforth," I said teasingly. "Also kudos for sticking with the first name."

"I never need to be told anything twice," he replied amusedly. "And just Nick's fine."

Just Nick, huh? I smiled, glad he seemed to have opened up a little more. And now we were on a first name basis. Not bad for six day's work. "How about Nicky?" I joked.

"Too far."

"That's fair," I conceded.

XXX

Author's Note!

So I guess a Psych story has been a long time in coming. Anyone who knows me knows that I utterly ADORE that show above pretty much anything else! I mean seriously, you should see me driving home from work like crazy whenever I have a new episode to watch. The reason I've never tried writing about it before is because... the idea always scared me. I write fanfiction all the time, but because of my absolute love for this show and every one of its quirks I've just always worried that I'd never be able to put that into text.

Which is also why now that I HAVE decided to write for it, I haven't written about Shawn or Gus or Jules or Lassie... Or any of the main characters! (I honestly don't believe I'd ever be able to do them justice). So I've dipped my toe into the universe and taken on a minor character instead. Not only do I feel a bit braver about doing that, it also gives me more creative license too. Win-win!

At first this was a toss-up between Nick Conforth, Mary Lightly and Robert Mackintosh. I felt I'd have enough experience writing the socially inept though (sorry Mary!) and I just love me a bit of Ralph Macchio. What can I say? I'm a total 80's girl! We'd Like To Thank The Academy has always been one of my favourite episodes too.

Because it's still technically part of the Psych universe I couldn't resist including some of those Psych-ish traits! You may be able to spot some movie references, nods towards some Psych quotes or scenes, quotes from the Guide to Crime Fighting (thank you Jules for those shooting tips), a mention of the ever-elusive Dobson (I personally feel he must be a man of many talents) and most definitely some Ralph Macchio pokes. I even included the theme title in there somewhere. See how many you can spot!

Anyway, back to the story itself! This is actually for a writing contest on deviantART called the 'I want to win your heart' challenge. The idea is to get a couple to fall in love in fourteen days (it's a V Day challenge - go figure) and that you have to include all fourteen days within your story. I kinda skewed the idea a bit, because I don't believe that people could actually fall in love within fourteen days. So mine's more of a 'get together in fourteen days' kinda thing xD The story just ended up too long to keep as one big piece of writing (like I always knew it would) so I split it into chapters as best as I could.

But yeah, that's the idea behind the strange diary format. It was actually really fun to work with and it totally fit in with the whole police training theme. Plus I looove writing in first person. You get much more leeway with the random side comments that way!

I realise that this is a much longer author's note than I usually do... I can just never put my love for Psych into enough words! I just find it sadly ironic that the end of the show was announced just as I got into writing this. It'll be really, REALLY missed. Plus now what am I going to obsess over?