Henry folded his paper neatly and placed it on the table. He stood up and quickly made his way to the front door. He swung it open and was greeted by the sight of a young man, bag slung over one shoulder. He was younger than Shawn and lot better presented. The young man held out his hand.
"Mr Spencer?" He asked.
"That's me," Henry took his hand and shook it.
"Nick King."
Henry nodded, "Sam's kid, you look just like him."
"I'll take that as a compliment sir."
Henry nodded, "come in, Henry moved back to let Nick in and then closed the door behind him.
"Nice house," Nick commented.
"Thanks," Henry led him down the corridor and opened the door to a room he'd barely stepped in since Shawn had moved out. Posters 80's pop groups littered the walls and the shelves and desk was still cluttered with the childhood junk that Shawn had left and Henry had never got round to chucking. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd phoned Shawn up to get him to clean his old bedroom out but there always seemed like there was something more important he had to do, like skiing in Colorado or a pie eating competition in LA.
"This is yours, Feel free to do with it what you like."
Nick dropped his bag on the bed and took in the modest room. "Thank you sir."
"And no more Sir, its Henry," Henry ordered, "Bathroom's a cross the hall, there's beer in the fridge, dinner's at seven thirty on the dot, no girls, no parties, you screw up, you're out of here," Henry explained before disappearing back down the hall.
Nick emptied his bag and filled the empty drawers with his clothes. He cracked open a window to air out the musty room, sucking in a deep breath of fresh sea air before starting on the many objects blue-tacked to the walls. He peeled the posters off carefully to avoid peeling off the paint and then rolled them up, sticking them in an empty box he'd found at the bottom of the closet. Once the walls were completely clear he started on the books and the odds and ends. The books were piled into the neat pile by the poster book while the random bits of broken toys, old records, ticket stubs and a handful of pens that didn't work were all chucked in the bin.
"I don't think so," Gus shook his head and crossed his arms stubbornly.
"Gus, I'm totally right, admit it."
"Never, because you're not right."
"You doubt my memory?"
"You doubt mine?"
"Yes because you're wrong."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not!"
"Come on Gus!
"No Shawn!"
"I remember it clear as day, I was Batman and you were Robin."
"I was Batman!"
"Don't be silly."
"Shawn there is no way that I would be Robin!"
"Me either!"
"Well we weren't both Batman."
"There's only one way to settle this."
"Yeah, what's that?"
"My journal from '91 is still at dad's house somewhere; we'll find out for sure who was who at Kelly Robinson's Halloween party."
"Fine."
"Fine." Shawn turned and strode out the office to his motorbike. He didn't mind going on a hunt for some journal that might or might not still be at his dad's house. It meant that Gus would have to finish his paperwork. The paperwork he hated to do and would do anything to avoid it, like start an argument with Gus about fancy dress costumes.
"Dad!" Shawn shouted as he knocked on the back door of his father's house. He knocked again when there was no answer; it was rare that his father wasn't home. A second later a stranger emerged and slid open the door.
"Can I help you?"
Shawn frowned, "And you are?"
"Nick King," He held out his hand and smiled, "You?"
"Shawn, Shawn Spencer," Shawn replied, wary of this man in his dad's house.
"Oh right, Henry's son," Nick took a step back and Shawn walked into the house. "He's not here at the moment, just popped to the store for some food for tonight," He explained.
"I just came to grab something from my room," Shawn spoke as he made his way down the corridor to his bedroom. He opened the door and his jaw dropped. His posters were gone from the walls, his books missing, his treasured passions gone. "Where's-
"Over there," Nick pointed to a couple of boxes in the corner. Shawn looked at the boxes and then back up at the bare walls. His shelves and desk were spotless and the open closet held someone else's clothes. His childhood room had been turned upside down and now it wasn't his room anymore, it was Nick's. Shawn went over to the boxes and picked it up, "Is everything okay?" Nick asked.
"Everything's fine," Shawn answered as he made his way back to the door. "Don't bother telling my dad I was here," He added before disappearing out the door.
Shawn walked into the office still holding the large box of his possessions. Gus looked up and frowned, "What's that?"
"Nothing," Shawn replied, "Nothing at all," He pushed the box under his desk.
"You found the journal?" Gus asked. Shawn didn't answer, he was too busy staring off into space. "Shawn?" Gus called again a little louder.
"Hmm?" Shawn spun his head round to meet Gus'
"I said did you find the journal?"
Shawn hadn't even bothered to look for the journal; it had probably been thrown out by his father years ago. "You were Batman."