**So guys, I know it's been forever since I updated, but with my term paper and ACT's (i know, being a junior sucks!) I just haven't had the time! So here it is, I would love love love if you could review. It would mean the world to me if you reviewed, it helps me write faster *wink wink* :)**

P.S. I don't own Psych, although if Steve Franks reads this, hint hint!

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"Dad!" Shawn shouted as he strolled in the door of his dad's beachfront bungalow. It looked plain from the outside, once referred to as the "Borington's House" by Nigel St. Nigel. The inside, however, was a completely different story. When Shawn's mother and father divorced, Henry decided to take a different route than Madeleine, décor-wise. Every inch of the walls were covered with some sort of fish paraphernalia, bringing Shawn back to the days when Henry used to drag his ass out of bed at 5:30 in the morning, always stating, "Shawn! This is when the fish are biting! Let's go!" After a while, Henry gave up on trying to get an always grumpy Shawn out of bed, and let "Princess", as was Shawn's nickname then, sleep in.

"Hey Shawn," Henry called out from the kitchen as Shawn tossed his keys on the coffee table. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just thought I'd stop by, share my new pineapple banana bread recipe with you, you know. What do you think I'm here for?" Shawn rolled his eyes.

"What's the case, Shawn? And don't think I don't know that you just rolled your eyes at me, I can see through walls," Henry brandished his spatula at his son from the kitchen. Sometimes Shawn got on his nerves. It seemed like all Shawn ever wanted was his help on a case. He didn't mind usually, for Henry Spencer realized a long time ago that he had in fact retired too early, and hearing about what went on at the station was refreshing for him. Even if it was from the point of view of a snarky detective.

"Male, 32 years old, supposed suicide with a knife. I told the cops it was a suicide, because that's what I saw. But there's this sixteen year old "psychic" that the Chief wants me to "train", name's Alexandra Ramsden. She says it wasn't a suicide. Something about the way the body fell."

Henry stared intently at the photos. He noticed that although this new Alex character was right about the trajectory of the body, the line between homicide and suicide was so fine that he almost missed it. Henry turned to face Shawn.

"I see it. I thought I trained you better than this, Shawn. You're supposed to notice the little things! Look closer!"

Shawn furrowed his brow and focused his gaze on the knife wound and where the body fell. After about two minutes, he did see what his father and Alex had noticed before him. Am I losing my touch? he thought to himself. Henry saw what his son was thinking, and immediately answered for him.

"You're not losing your edge, son," he said sharply. "You just need to relax. This new girl's got you all crazy, and you're not thinking straight. Why is she bothering you so much?" he asked, leaning in to Shawn.

"I don't know, but you're bothering me more than her when you lean in like that," Shawn raised his eyebrows and leaned away from his father. Sometimes Henry could be so awkward around his son, and Shawn believed it was because Henry was always walking the beat when Shawn was growing up. "You know, she's just, so young! I was never as good as her when I was her age!"

"Well, Shawn, maybe she's really psychic, like she claims. You never know," Henry chuckled.

"Now's not the time for jokes, dad," Shawn stood up to leave. "And like I told Gus, there's no such thing as psychics."

"You want to tell the police that, or should I?" Henry smirked as Shawn, obviously annoyed with his father, leaned in the doorway.

"Ha-ha, no, I just have to figure out how she's so good! What's her secret?" Shawn's phone rang from his pocket when he answered it, his chest tightening when he heard the Chief's voice.

"Mr. Spencer, we have a lead on the case. Come down to the marina, and bring Ms. Ramsden with you, if she's still up. I trust you have her phone number?"

"Of course, Chief," Shawn sighed. "We'll be there faster than you can say 'pineapple milkshake'." Shawn threw up his hands in frustration. "Goodbye Dad, hope you make some progress with your awkward class." He ran out the door and into the dusk. As Shawn reached his motorcycle across the street in the beach parking lot, he admired that nobody seemed to be on the beach this time of night. It was after the families had gone home, and before the nightly beach parties started. He stared so long and hard at the beach that he flashed back to when his mom, dad and he used to take walks at this time of day. Those were happy times, when his parents were content with each other, before the divorce. Slowly, his father and mother disappeared and were replaced by himself and Juliet.

Ever since Abigail broke up with Shawn, he was trying to stay objective, not get involved with anyone else for a while. But lately… he thought about her all the time, whether riding his bike or just hanging at the Psych office with Gus. Whenever he saw her coming toward her in the station, he felt a smile involuntary creep onto his face. But he knew it was no use. When Shawn decided to rescue Abigail, Juliet had taken the blow hard. She had hardened herself against Shawn, and he knew there was no quick fix for the pain she was feeling. It would take only time to heal the wounds he inflicted on Juliet, and it killed him that he couldn't do more than just wait.

Breaking out of his reverie, he swung his leg over his bike and sped off toward the Psych office, where he would pick up Gus and head over to Alex's hotel. Then it was off to the marina, where Shawn could only hope he could redeem himself.

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**So, getting a little Shulesy, huh? Comment, suggestions are ALWAYS welcome!!**