1987

It was late on a June evening. Two young men sat at a basement bar, looking despondently at the TV in the corner where a basketball game was unwinding. It was game three of the NBA finals, and Larry Bird was leading the Celtics to an unexpected victory. Not even Magic was able to turn the corner for the Lakers. As the station broke for a commercial, the boys let out nearly identical sighs, and turned their attention to the bottles on the bar in front of them. The blonder of the two picked up the white bottle, filled two tall glasses, while the darker lad filled two shot glasses with brown liquid, shook his head, and passed one to his friend.

"I thought we had it."

"Yeah." They lifted the shot glasses, toasted each other, and shot the root beer in one go. Then they chased it with the milk. Wiping their mouths on their sleeves, they clunked the glasses down, and Gus carefully refilled the root beer. "It was close."

"They'll win the next one."

"Yeah." Gus watched his friend for a moment, distracted by the expression in Shawn's eyes. "You okay?"

Shawn downed another shot before responding, motioning for Gus to refill his glass. "He's making me crazy, Gus."

"Yeah?"

"He wants me to be a cop."

Gus laughed. "Well, there's a shock. No one would have expected –"

"I won't."

"What?"

"I won't do it, Gus. I won't be a cop. Never."

Gus stared at him for a minute, frowning. "But… you'd be really good at it, Shawn. Nobody figures things out like you. And you've been saying for years that you wanted –"

"Not anymore. I don't want to be like him."

The sharpness of the response stopped Gus dead. He toyed with his glass, finally lifted it and sipped. "Okay. But… why?"

"Just… just because."

"Shawn –"

The post-game interviews started up, and Shawn frowned at the TV. "You wanna watch a movie?"

Gus, knowing the look, shrugged. "Sure. What do you have?"

His friend slipped off the barstool and over to the beautifully made shelving units that held the VHS collection. "Let's see… Star Trek IV, Karate Kid… Poltergeist?"

"I'd rather watch funny, after that game."

Shawn nodded sagely. "Yeah, I can see that. Maybe… " They looked at each other and grinned. Together, as Shawn pulled it off the shelf, they said, "Ghostbusters!" He slipped it into the player and hit rewind, coming back to the bar with the remote. Gus had refilled their glasses, and Shawn nodded gratefully.

"So, Shawn…"

"Yeah?"

Gus waited, and after a moment, Shawn downed another shot of root beer and stared at the wall before speaking. "They're arguing a lot."

Burton shrugged. "Mine do, too. It happens."

"Yeah, but this is …" he took a gulp from the bottle, forgetting himself, and refilled his shot glass. "It feels different."

"Okay." He watched Shawn for a minute. "Sorry, man." He watched, concerned, as Shawn frowned at his glass.

"It's about Dad working. A lot. And I think, what kind of work he's doing." Shawn's eyes closed as he pictured the scene from that morning. "Dad didn't come home last night. He came home this morning, he and Mom said something really quiet to each other…" he shifted, turning his head as he watched it unfold in his mind, his hand spread before him. "And then she ran upstairs and he just looked after her, shook his head, and went into the kitchen. I was just sitting down to have some cereal." He frowned; his eyes still closed, and shook his head. "He walked by me to the sink, didn't say anything, and I saw…"

The tape in the VCR chunked to a stop, and Shawn's eyes jerked open. Gus still was looking at his friend, concerned. "What did you see?"

Shawn looked at him for a second, then shook his head. "I'm not sure."

Pushed far enough, Gus spoke a bit more harshly than he might have. "Come on, Shawn."

Shawn glanced at him, shrugged. "There was red. Behind his ear."

Gus frowned. "Like blood?"

His friend laughed without humor. "No. Like… lipstick."

"Well, maybe your mom –"

"He hadn't been home all night, he was wearing his uniform. You know how careful he is with it."

"Yeah, but –"

"And he didn't think I saw, but I noticed he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. When he turned back from the sink, he had it on again. And he always wears it."

Gus sat back, staring. "Wow."

"Yeah. And he was wearing a different smell… his deodorant was real flowery smelling. He wears Old Spice."

Gus drank his root beer thoughtfully. "So… you think…"

Shawn shot his root beer and refilled the glasses again. "I'll let you know. But I don't know what else…" His eyes betrayed him by beginning to water. Grabbing the remote, Shawn pressed 'play'. Within moments they were blissfully distracted by the antics of Murray, Ramis, and Ackroyd.

Eventually they moved to the sofa, taking the bottle with them. When Henry came down at midnight, they were sound asleep on the couch, two empty bottles on the floor, a third on the bar. He shook his head with a grin, and pulled blankets from the chest that served as a coffee table and storage unit.

Covering them up, he leaned to kiss his son on the forehead, resting his hand on the boy's head for a long moment before turning off the lights and heading upstairs.

Present Day

Henry Spencer leaned back against the door of the captain's office, his arms folded over his chest. "I'm just saying… if you want me to keep an eye on him, I need to know what's going on."

"Mr. Spencer, you don't need to know what he's trying to get information about." The captain tilted her head, and smiled tightly. "It's internal, Henry. You know how it is."

He stepped forward and leaned his knuckles on her desk. "Yes, I do. And I'd like to know why a performance report, that's usually open, is shut so tight for him."

She shifted uncomfortably, glanced through the blinds covering her window walls and spoke in a near whisper, as if someone might overhear them. "He's undercover."

His expression froze for a moment, before an eyebrow lifted. "How deep?"

The captain nodded, a concerned look shadowing her eyes. "Deep."

Henry stood again, and his shoulders dropped. He looked off through the office windows, and back to the captain. "Is he clean?"

She frowned. "For God's sake, Henry. He's Arthur's son."

"I know that. I'm still asking."

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "He's clean."

The senior Spencer nodded slowly. Then he turned, a hand on the door before he turned to look at her once more. "Thanks."

As she watched him walk down the hall, she exhaled heavily. Mumbling to herself as she sorted the files on her desk, she said, "I just wish this case were over."