So I decided to write a chapter from Henry's POV, ya know, to keep it symmetrical. Sorry it took me so long to write this! I've been crazy busy.

Before you read this, you have to understand something: I am a 15-year-old girl with no children, younger brothers and sisters, or even younger cousins. I have absolutely no insight whatsoever to the feelings a parent has for their kid. I did the best I could, but there's a fair chance I got everything wrong.

I challenge all of you to read this story hearing Henry's voice in your head. It may be hard (especially since this is likely incredibly OOC) but I think it helps. Please review!

WARNING!: Major spoilers Mr. Yang/Yin. Spoilers pilot, and there is a reference to Weekend Warriors which I challenge you all to find :D

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I thought I knew what I was getting myself in when I decided I wanted a kid. I thought it'd be like all those old movies: going fishing and playing ball—all the while teaching my kid how to survive in the world. I always wanted a boy. Maddie said that I'd be better with a girl, but I didn't care. I wanted a boy. I wanted someone to follow in my footsteps. Someone to make me proud.

What I didn't expect was Shawn. I didn't expect such an undisciplined, attention deficit, irresponsible son. Don't get me wrong; I loved that little boy with all my heart. Even as a baby the kid just had this… air about him. This charm. He got happy over the littlest things. Like when the beeper on the washing machine went off. He'd sit in front of the washing machine, watching the clothes tumble around and around, and would do this little victory dance every time the beeper went off.

His smile and laugh were just… infectious. I remember this one time I came home late after a long night on the job. And boy, was I in a mood. My partner and I, we had this perp in cuffs and we were leading him into the station. Right as we reached the door, he spun around and attacked my partner. Knocked him unconscious in the blink of an eye. Within a few seconds, a few black and whites had swarmed the guy and brought him down. Boy, did I feel like an idiot. I felt like a failure. But then, that night I walked into Shawn's room to check in on him. He was just sleeping. He was in his crib, just four months old, clinging to his little blanket. I saw him and thought 'Well, if I was able to be part of making something so perfect, I guess I can't be such a failure after all"—you know, the kind of illogical, emotional talk that only happens with new parents. Then Shawn woke up. Babies cry, but Shawn never did. He just opened his eyes and stretched. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. It was the first time he'd ever smiled at me. In that instant I forgot about the day. All I cared about was the perfect little boy in front of me.

My sappy, overemotional phase didn't last long. It ended just about the time the kid started talking. And once he started, he didn't stop. I don't pretend to be a patient person. The kid drove me crazy. You know what his problem was? He didn't know how to listen. He didn't know how to open his ears for two freaking seconds and pay attention to someone else. Still doesn't. He's too busy talking all the time. I did all I could to teach him how to be a cop. To teach him discipline. But no. He had to do everything his way. He discarded everything I said because he thought he knew better.

I mean, I'm not saying I was the best father, either. Looking back, I can't help but think I might've pushed him too hard. In all honesty, I don't really know if he even wanted to be an officer. I just assumed that he did and he never told me otherwise.

So I taught him to be a cop. A damn good one, too. And he would've been. Probably the greatest the city of Santa Barbara has ever seen. But then he went and blew it. One night the genius decided to go steal a car. He's always said that it was to impress a girl, but I don't buy it. Shawn could always get any girl he wanted. He gets that from me. No, the kid wanted to get back at me. He knew that I always wanted him to follow in my footsteps. He wanted to hurt me. He wanted to, because he had this absurd notion that I kicked his mother out. He doesn't realize that I did every single thing I could think of to keep our family together.

He found fault in me so quickly. Maybe because I've always been so easy to find fault in him. But how could I not? I'm his father, for Christ's sake! It was my job to prepare him for the real world. If I just sat back and didn't point out all of his mistakes, he could easily make them again, and it could end in him losing his life. Maybe I was too harsh or critical, but I did it all for him. To protect him.

If he asked me I'd deny it, but it killed me when he left. He was still a kid. He up and left without leaving so much as a letter. I had to find out he left from Gus. I never knew where he was or what he was doing. I didn't know if he was in jail or lying dead in a gutter. I couldn't protect him anymore. I was alone. His mom left and then he did. I was alone, and I was pissed. Eventually, he started sending me postcards with a short letter, and my worry for him dulled to a blind rage. The kid was just so stupid and ignorant and inconsiderate. He steals a car, ruining all chances of becoming a cop, then leaves? He skips college and doesn't get a serious job, but dozens of goofy ones? Where did I go wrong?

Then the kid shows up at my door. I could tell that he was upset that I didn't tell him I came back to Santa Barbara. In retrospect, it was immature of me. But, I mean, I was mad. He didn't tell me he was leaving, so I didn't tell him I came back. I know it isn't a parents' job to try and get back at their kid. But for a while there, he wasn't my son. Before you judge me, you have to understand, my boy just left. He cut all ties to me. You always hear people whose parents abandoned them saying "They left. They don't care about me. They're not my parents anymore." Well, it works like that for parents too. Just because we're older and more mature and experienced doesn't mean we cease to feel anything. My kid betrayed me, so he stopped being my kid. That's not to say I didn't love him or care about him anymore. I did, just more in the way that I love and care about Gus. But anyways, Shawn shows up my door after years of hardly any contact. He tells me that he's a private psychic detective. Really? I thought it was a joke. After all these years he comes to me, tells me he's got another screw-off job, and then asks for my help. Did he not realize that I have a reputation at that station?

As much as I hate to say it, though, the kid's good. He's really good. I'm not saying that I approve of his job, because I don't. I doubt I ever will. But still, he found a way to basically be a cop, without being a cop. Now, there are two things I didn't expect with Shawn having this job: I didn't think I'd be worried, and I didn't think I'd be proud. I guess anyone who has family with a job like this is worried; it just never occurred to me all the time he was growing up that I'd be genuinely terrified for my son. I don't know why, I mean, officers have guns shoved in their faces on a regular basis—especially when you're Shawn. It's like the kid goes out of his way to get himself in trouble. And when he was shot—oh God—that was the worst moment of my life. Knowing my boy was somewhere with a bullet in him and likely a gun to his head was… indescribable. I couldn't help him. All I could do was search and hope we found him alive. I don't think the kid will ever realize how scared I was.

Were Shawn a cop, I would've expected to be proud. But a psychic? No, I didn't think I could ever be proud of that. But he can solve anything. He's solved cases that the best and the brightest couldn't. He solved a case when his own mother was missing. He was even able to keep his head straight when the two women who he cared most about were at risk. He's solved cases that I don't even think I could. And that's enough to make any father proud.

Shawn hasn't done right by me. And I know I haven't done right by him. We have one of the most ridiculously complicated relationships I've ever seen. For all I know, the kid completely hates me. But I could never hate him. People always say that you don't know love until you have a kid. I always thought that was complete crap. And then Shawn was born. And yeah, he's a pain in the ass 87% of the time, but he'll always be that little boy who made my problems melt away with just a smile.

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So guys, reviews would be awesome here. Like I said, this was incredibly hard for me to write. I'd love any kind of compliments or constructive criticism you can throw my way. Also, I plan on writing a few of these: first person with two characters, each talking about the others in their life. Any ideas or prompts are welcome and will likely be honored! Thanks for reading, please review! :D