-------Musubi's Fried Rice Corner--------

Last chapter!!!

Finally got my hand on a spare computer.

Thanks to all who've stuck by me through the last six chapters. You guys are awesome.

Not too much going on in this chapter. It's a happy ending, I promise! After all that angst, I figured this would be a good way to make everything come 'round circle.

Once again, thanks so much for all your reviews and reads. I've had fun writing this, especially this chapter.

xxMusubixx

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If one included rest time and all the physical therapy after, Shawn Spencer was in the hospital for four continuous months. The doctors spent ten hours in the operating room, fusing Spencer's vertebrae together. Maybe it was more, the little hand pointed to the number of hours you'd been waiting for your loved one, right?

He would walk, but with slight pain and most likely with the assistance of a cane. The addition of this "accessory" was something both Henry and Shawn Spencer could bond over hating. Over time though, the scars healed. After two years, he didn't need the cane anymore, though walked with a slight limp, similar to the edginess of Henry Spencer's stride.

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It was autumn. Red and golden leaves began their dissent from their leafy thrones to the surface of grass and grit. The environment was ablaze, air crisp and clouding by the lips of individuals, constantly reminding them the reality of the temperature and that they were lucky to be alive.

Juliet donned a wide smile as she threw an oversized, over-soft softball to her children in the yard. His wife didn't appear a day over thirty and he told her as often as he could. She was beautiful when they met and twenty years, three children later, she still was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her wits were still about her, often catching Shawn's snarky remarks with a counter usually as biting.

Catch the ball, throw it to Cassie.

Over the years, they'd watched Gus start his own family, Chief Vick retire, Lassiter take her place, Juliet take his. They'd been together when Shawn's father finally died and when Juliet's parents passed on too. Maddie was still kicking, but her health was starting to fade and they knew there wasn't much time left.

The family took vacations occasionally, dropping into Los Angeles to go to Disneyland or a baseball game. Juliet loved baseball and hooked the kids on it; Ash had been playing since she was in diapers. Shawn went mostly for ballpark nachos, which he swore were better than regular store-bought nachos. And to watch Ash play.

But mostly the nachos.

Catch the ball, throw it to Brandon.

Shawn and Gus eventually shut down Psych Investigations as Gus was "too busy" setting the pharmaceutical sales world on fire. For Shawn, being physically limited to a slow trot or brisk walk made chasing bad guys pretty difficult.

Shawn bounced from job to job and eventually went back to school after his wife's nagging, Gus's begging and (he swears) his father's posthumous pestering. After three bitter years of online courses, Shawn was finally Dr. Spencer, Ph. D.

Oh, you need ten years of school to get a Ph. D? Fine…then just Mr. Spencer with a Bachelor's Degree in child psychology teaching high school students the difference between the hypothalamus and cerebellum.

It was a nice, relatively steady job and he got summers off and various other established breaks—what else could he ask for? And, between teaching kids the make up of the brain and the basis of behavior, he taught them practical things, like: how to ask a woman on a proper date, how to notice little details most people missed. Most importantly: how to pick yourself up after making a mistake, how to loose with dignity and how to ask for help even if you really didn't want it from your ex-cop of a father.

Catch the ball, throw it to Ash.

Shawn, after thirty minutes, had to sit this out. He wasn't sure if it was left over back pain or just old age.

Cassie Lynne, his youngest daughter at nine, physically resembled her mother, but psychologically, was all his. Inheriting his eidetic memory and heightened sensory awareness, she could remember the details of a room down to a hair follicle and only had to see it twice. She was still a child though—afraid of the dark and spiders and always a kiss or hug from Mom and Dad made all the world's ailments better.

Brandon was almost out of high school, a junior. Slow, meticulous and easy tempered, Shawn often joked that Brandon was switched at birth with Gus' child. The boy's slender frame was often underestimated as his strength came from his words (just like his father.) Shawn never made his pride questionable to his son, though if needed, he would tell his son to pick up the slack when he'd been caught doing something stupid. Brandon wanted to be like Mom, Head Detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department. Henry Spencer would be proud.

Ashley, the oldest, a senior all ready, was by far a Daddy's Girl. Shawn chuckled, thinking that the crafty teenager had him wrapped around her pinkie finger. She had inherited the Spencer Charm, knew it and used it to her full advantage, the list of young boys he had to scare off got longer every weekend. She was smart with numbers and money like her mother and was already filing for scholarships to Brown and UCLA. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but she knew she didn't want to be a cop—and that was just fine with Shawn Spencer.

"Cassie!" Shawn called to the pigtailed, freckled girl. She turned and heeded her father's call.

"Yes Daddy?" He motioned for his youngest to sit on his lap, which she did.

"Close your eyes sweetie."

"Not this game again," she whined, so much like he protested against his father's requests. You reap what you sow, he thought, chuckling to himself.

"Oh you love it, come on. Now close your eyes." She did, biting her bottom lip in concentration.

"How many hats, Cassie?"