Chapter 1

"Shawn, we have been sitting around the office for days. Don't you think that we should go to the police station and make some attempt to find work?" Gus remarked as he glared at Shawn from across the room in their Psych office.

"Gus, my man, we should appreciate this time and relax. Work will come soon," Shawn replied as he sat back in his chair and placed his feet upon the desk smiling as he crossed his hands over his chest.

"No, Shawn. We need money. And unlike you, I actually have a real job," Gus commented as he picked up a pile of papers. "And do we really need things like a smoothie maker and a pool table?"

"Why, yes. How else am I supposed to tune into my psychic abilities?" Shawn responded as he placed his fingers on his temple.

"Shawn, you don't have any abilities. You're just a good observer. That's it! If things don't change, I'm not gonna be partners with you anymore," Gus said as he grabbed his coat and made an attempt to exit the office.

Shawn jumped up from his chair and ran in front of Gus. "Whoa, what's going on? I thought we were in this together?" Shawn questioned him unsure of where this unusual outburst came from. He didn't think that Gus would ever walk out on him from this job. He was his best friend and always had his back, no matter what occurred.

"We are, but if you don't start doing something we are gonna crash and burn," Gus replied. "I've already put in a lot of time and money to get this office on its feet. I'm not sure how much more I can do. I have other bills and commitments that I have to attend to. I'm sorry Shawn, but I have to get to work," he replied as he walked past Shawn out the door.

"I'll find us a job tomorrow. I promise. Everything is going to be okay," Shawn shouted after Gus as he walked out the door and got into his car giving a small wave goodbye. "Since when has there been little crime in California that I can't find a detective job, jeez," Shawn mumbled to himself as he walked back to his desk eagerly searching for new stories on his computer.

"I'm glad that you had time Shawn to come speak to your old man," Henry replied as he brought a plate of freshly cooked food to the kitchen table. As much as he was being sarcastic, he enjoyed it every time Shawn came over. He missed the times when he was a kid. Now, Shawn sat thirty-years old across from him. Henry often wondered where the time had gone.

"I've been extremely busy dad. Gus and I have like 10 cases. I'm getting a little worn down," Shawn stated as he faked a yawn. "I really need to get more sleep, but I'm in such a high demand that I cannot afford it," he replied, but wished he had revoked the previous statement. He started to embellish a little too much. He hoped that his dad wouldn't see right through him so he quickly looked down at his food and pretended that he was intrigued by the baked lemon chicken.

"10 cases? Impressive. So what are they?" Henry questioned knowing that his son was a flat-out liar.

Shawn started playing with his food using a fork and making a back and forth sweeping motion with his half-eaten potatoes. "You know, a little of this, a little of that. Some murder, stabbings, and…conspiracy. All great stuff," Shawn sheepishly remarked.

"Conspiracy? Against whom?" Henry interrogated as he looked up from buttering his bun.

Shawn looked back at him and started scratching his head knowing that his uneasy movements were a tell-tale sign that he was blatantly lying. "Uhh, the government. I believe that they are hiding information vital to survival of mankind."

"Sounds like a good movie. You got nothing," Henry bluntly replied finally letting Shawn know that all his behavior was a bunch of nonsense.

"Nope. Nada. You're right. Can you please pass the potatoes?" Shawn quickly asked ashamed that his dad found out the truth.

"Shawn!" Henry hollered.

"What? I'm hungry and those Idaho potatoes are just beckoning to me to eat them," Shawn joked trying to lighten the mood. He was not in the disposition to get one of his frequent father lectures about how he should be taking control of his life.

"Shawn, I'm not talking about the potatoes. What do you do in your office all day? Go out and get some cases. You're not going to be in business much longer," Henry said as he passed Shawn the potatoes.

"Dad, I know. Everyone has been telling me this and I will find work. I will. Just leave me alone. I don't need you telling me how to run my life," Shawn remarked with a hint of anger in his voice. He was getting more frustrated every second that his father opened his mouth.

"Well, someone has to Shawn, because you are going nowhere. Give up the psychic ability act son. Someone is going to catch you one day and you are not going to be able to get a job in this town," Henry barked back. He was surprised that Shawn's cover had not been blown yet. However, it was only a matter of time.

When Henry made this comment, Shawn threw down his fork. "No, dad. I'm good at what I do and just because you don't want your name to be tarnished I'm not going to give up this job," Shawn yelled as he stood up from his seat.

Henry slowly got up and faced Shawn hoping to cool down the situation. "I'm not questioning your detective abilities. You are better than I ever was, but don't you think this has gotten out of control? You prance and flop around on the floor pretending to see things in the future. It is just ridiculous."

Shawn threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of defeat. "What is this, let's all pick on Shawn Spencer day? You know what. Forget it. I just wanted to have a nice dinner with you and you have to tear me down, like always I might add," Shawn yelled as he grabbed his keys and coat. "I may not be a real psychic, but at least I am helping people. That is more than I can say about you sitting there and criticizing me day after day."

"Shawn," Henry replied as he walked towards the door to try and stop his son. He always hated when they fought and one of them stormed off. A parent never likes to stay mad at his child, but by this time Shawn already stormed through the door and slammed it in a fit of rage almost knocking over the picture that hung of a young Shawn on the adjacent wall. Henry just stood there for one of the first times in his life speechless. Shawn was a grown adult and he had been on his nerves lately criticizing him for everything in his life. He turned around and decided to clean up the kitchen for he had now lost his appetite.

Shawn darted to his bike and felt like he was missing something. Probably his mind, he thought. It seemed to him that everyday someone new was turning against him. His father had always been at his throat for his charade of being a psychic, but now that his best friend, Gus, had turned against him, it really hurt him inside. Sometimes he wished that he did have special powers. Then, people could start treating him with respect. He turned on his motorcycle and looked back at his father's house. Maybe he should go back in. No, that would not solve anything. With a sigh of despair, he proceeded to exit his father's driveway unto the street.

Henry heard the sound of Shawn's motorcycle start. He wondered what had gone wrong over the years. He secretly knew that Shawn had resentment towards him for divorcing his mother. However, he just wanted Shawn to have a great life, get married, have kids, and enjoy the rest of his life. Instead, Shawn jumped from job to job and never had a serious relationship. He did not criticize Shawn on purpose. He just wanted him to do better because Henry realized that his son had a wonderful ability. He could be the best detective in the state, hell, in the world. However, Shawn decided to showcase his ability by pretending to be a psychic, a person usually belittled and disrespected. He cared for him, but sometimes he knew that his harsh words and façade masked his true motive. He sighed and continued to clean up the unsuccessful dinner meeting between Shawn and him. Just as he placed the last dish in the sink, he noticed that Shawn had left his helmet on the chair next to the door. This sent a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. He tried to shrug it off and envisioned Shawn walking in the door in the next minute or so to retrieve his piece of equipment. This lessened the overall feeling of anxiety in him. He continued on cleaning the kitchen secretly wishing that Shawn would return at any second.

Shawn was in a rush to get home. He ignored the speed limit signs. However, once he turned on his last street to reach his destination, the setting sun glared in his eyes. Wow, he thought. The sun never bothered him like this before. It then suddenly dawned on him that he was not wearing his helmet. That is what he felt like he was missing. In that instant, a wave of nervousness swept over him. There had been times when he was not wearing his helmet, but the sun made it awful difficult for him to see the road. He did not want to turn back to his father's house because he was more than halfway home. Then, his father would make some comment about how his motorcycle was a death trap and if he had a real mode of transportation like a car that he would not even need to wear a helmet. He decided to continue on with his journey. He knew this road like the back of his hand so he could easily navigate in the tricky driving conditions. However, he did not expect a box fallen from a truck to obstruct the road. It was only at the last minute that he saw it. He swerved to miss the box, but this motion caused him to lose control of his motorcycle. The bike slanted sideways and he started to skid on his left side down the middle of the road. At this point, Shawn thanked the gods that he decided to wear a coat and jeans. He could feel them getting ripped away from the harsh, gavel road underneath him, but at least his skin was getting pulled off at this moment. He tried to keep his head up, but the bumps and potholes were causing this to be very challenging. He wished that he had his helmet on now. While to the observer, this whole scene took only seconds, it seemed to last an eternity to Shawn. He still skit along the road and tried to get out of the way as he saw an approaching cement median in the road. Please God, don't let me hit that he thought. Unfortunately, he had no control over his bike. And his last thought before he slipped into a world of unconsciousness was that this was gonna hurt big time….