Hi all! Thanks for the reviews. I'm going to try and finish this over the next few weeks (depending on how busy work gets!). I hope this chapter doesn't seem too OOC. Just taking a bit of a different direction. And don't worry – Farris will return (da da da dum).

Be safe and well out there!

Shawn was nervous. And for Shawn, being nervous usually translated into silly antics, lots of movement, bugging Gus, arguing with his Dad, tormenting Lassie, or flirting with Jules. Unfortunately, none of those things were available right now.

His friends and family weren't here (and he didn't want to think about how much he missed them) and the other options were no longer viable. He had promised himself he was going to grow up, and part of that was no longer being silly.

Nope. Instead he was mature Shawn; quiet, controlled, intelligent and somber. No more antics – of any kind.

He sighed and tried to stretch his shoulders. He could get through this – couldn't he? After all, he'd spent twelve years sitting at a desk and he'd survived (barely). He could handle it again.

"Hi," a young guy, no more than nineteen or twenty, sat beside him. "You takin' English 101?" he asked.

Shawn's eyebrow went up and a sarcastic comment almost left his mouth. But he bit down on it and instead nodded. "Yeah, this is the right classroom, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah. It's a big class so they hold it in this lecture hall. Hey, my name's Liam."

"Shawn," he answered. "Are you an English major?"

"Hell no. I hate English," he grimaced, "but it's a requirement. I'm gonna be a cop! Although why I'd need English for that, I have no idea!"

"A cop?" Shawn answered, wishing he was sitting anywhere in the huge lecture hall but here. "Uh – I expect you need to be able to communicate if you're a cop," he explained to the young man.

Liam snorted. "I can communicate just fine. And anyway, it's not communicating I want to do. No, I wanna arrest bad guys." Liam put up his hand, holding it like a gun, which he pretended to shoot. "Actually, I really wanna shoot em, instead" he laughed.

"Uh, I think they frown on that," he told the young man. "Cops don't really like to shoot people – at least most of them don't."

Liam looked at him like he was crazy. "No way, man. Cops are bad-ass and so am I. They're gonna be happy to have me!"

"I see. Have you – uh – spoken to someone in the criminal justice program – or in the police?" he asked.

Liam shrugged. "Nah –not yet."

"Well – just one little suggestion – don't go telling them you want to shoot someone. I think they might not like that."

Liam shrugged. "Yeah, with all due respect, man, how would you know? You a cop or something," he laughed.

"No, not a cop."

Liam laughed again and opened his laptop. "I think you'd better stick to English, dude," he said. "Sounds like it's more your speed."

By this time Shawn had grown tired of the conversation and just wished the professor would get here. A few seconds later his wish was answered.

He spent the next 75 minutes listening to a lecture on Early English Literature by Professor Mary Fleming.

After the class was done he said a swift goodbye to Liam, his seatmate, and made his way out of the lecture hall. The last thing he wanted was to get into another conversation with wanna be cop Liam! He really hoped the young man would not make it into the police force, although sadly he'd known a few who were like him. Fortunately, his father had been very different.

That thought made him realize how much he missed his father – something he normally would never admit. His sudden melancholy caused him to not pay attention and he suddenly bumped into someone.

"Oops – sorry," he said.

"No problem," the woman answered, "I'm fine". It took Shawn a second to realize he'd just plowed into his professor.

"That's a good thing," Shawn smiled at her. "I wouldn't want to fail the class on the first day because I knocked over my professor."

Dr. Fleming grinned in reply. She was an older woman – probably in her late forties – but she was very attractive. "Oh, I wouldn't flunk you for bumping into me," she informed him. "Now if you insulted Shakespeare or Milton – well, that's another thing!"

"I'd never do that," Shawn told her, shaking his head. "I certainly wouldn't insult Shakespeare and I like Milton Berle. He was a great comedian."

She laughed, although a moment later seemed to realize he wasn't kidding. "Uh – I meant John Milton – the famous English author."

"Oh, that, Milton," Shawn laughed too, although it was slightly forced. "Of course I wouldn't insult him either." He frowned, suddenly remembering something. "Although he wasn't very funny."

Professor Fleming laughed. "No, I guess he wasn't. But Shakespeare was."

"Sure – if you could understand him. He used way too many words."

"Yes. I guess that's true. But look at the bright side, he invented a whole bunch of words and expressions we now use. What would we have done without him?"

"Used other words?" Shawn answered with a smirk.

The professor laughed and shook her head. "But our language would be boring, and you don't strike me as someone who likes to be bored."

"No, that's true," he told her. "In fact, Gus and I -", his voice faded out. "Never mind. Uh, I hope you won't hold it against me that I bumped into you."

"Of course not – at least I won't if you tell me by next class, some of the words that Shakespeare invented." With a nod and a smile she whisked past him and was gone.

Shawn would freely admit that he had never enjoyed Shakespeare. In fact, he'd avoided reading it in high school and instead had gotten Gus to tell him all the plot lines of any plays they were required to read. Although he'd managed to pass English, it had been by the skin of his teeth. But now, he was rather intrigued by the Professor's challenge. He knew she wasn't really serious, but he decided it would give him something to do.

He attended the rest of his classes that week, including one math class that he really couldn't believe he'd signed up for. He hated math. But, it was a requirement to get his Associate's degree so he decided to grin and bear it.

At the end of the week he returned to his tiny basement apartment, tired after his first full week of college life. He dropped his backpack and threw himself on the couch. He was tired – tired and lonely. He really wanted to go out and have a beer and spend the evening with Gus – or Gus and Jules – or just Jules. But he'd promised himself that he'd get out of his friend's lives. They didn't need him causing problems and getting in their way.

He sighed and pushed himself up to get a drink out of the kitchen. Sitting down, again, he grabbed the book sitting beside him, and began to read.

"When shall we three meet again?

In thunder, lightning, or in rain."

Monday he returned to his classes – proud of the fact that he had done all the readings and homework he'd been assigned. He was pretty sure that was a first for him – at least a first without being forced by his father!

Surprisingly, he'd found the math really easy and had whipped through the questions. In fact, he found almost everything pretty easy. He new that his eidetic memory was a help, although it wouldn't help him analyze the material and so he had to concentrate on what he was reading.

He had spent a fun Sunday afternoon googling all the words invented by Shakespeare. He also read all of Macbeth – although he still didn't particularly like Shakespeare's tragedies, but at least he felt a sense of accomplishment that he had actually read one!

On Monday he sat in a different seat in the lecture hall and was relieved to see Liam sit somewhere else. This time he was seated next to a young, earnest looking woman. He smiled at her.

"Hi, I'm Shawn," he told her.

"Hi. I'm Emma," she told him. "Did you finish reading Macbeth?" she asked.

"Mmm hmm. Can't say it's my favorite story, though."

"Mine either," she told him. "Too much murder! I would have preferred one of his comedies!"

"Me too," he told her. "Although murder can be interesting."

"Interesting?" she said, looking at him strangely.

"Well – I like murder mysteries," he told her. "That's what I meant about interesting."

"Oh, I see," she laughed, relieved. "What authors do you like?"

Damn – he should be more careful. He tried desperately to think of any mystery writers. "Stephen King", he almost shouted, relieved to have thought of someone.

"He's more of a horror writer, isn't he?"

Crap! Who else – "Sherlock Holmes."

"He was the character, silly," Emma told him. "You mean Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Uh –yeah, of course I meant him. So, what are you studying?" he said, quickly trying to change the subject. Now he'd have to go home and Google mystery writers.

"Me? I'm getting my degree in political science, but I want to go into law."

"Law? That's a good career. So you want to defend people, do you?"

"Oh no. I'd like to go into corporate law. There's a lot more money in that."

"Right," he nodded, suddenly feeling very disillusioned with Emma. Where were the young people with principles? He sighed and then faced forward as Professor Fleming arrived.

"So, can anyone tell me what Macbeth is about?" she asked.

The class discussed the play for the next hour, and Shawn actually found himself taking part in the discussion. Dr. Fleming made Shakespeare interesting and because he'd done his homework he was actually able to answer some of the questions she posed to the class.

When there were just a few minutes left in class, he saw her grin. "So, I had an interesting conversation with a student last week about how wordy Shakespeare was." Her eyes rested briefly on Shawn, although she didn't openly acknowledge him. "Now a lot of you may not know it, but many of the words and expressions we use actually come from Shakespeare. Does anyone have any examples of those words?"

Shawn looked around, and then slowly put up his hand.

"Yes, Mr. ?"

"Spencer, Shawn Spencer," he answered.

"Well Mr. Spencer – did you discover any of the words that Shakespeare invented?"

"Mmm hmm," he said. "There are some scholars who say he invented over 1700 words, but now people feel it's more like 422."

"Very good," she answered. "Can you tell me any of them?"

"Sure," he answered. "In fact, I can tell you all of them, if you like, although we only have five minutes left of class."

"All of them?" she chuckled, soundly skeptical. "Did you memorize them?"

"Yes," he nodded, seriously. "Starting with "A" there's academe, accessible, accommodation, addiction -" he carried on through the list of words, although by the time he got to the "C's" he stopped.

"I think the class is over," he told Dr. Fleming.

She nodded and dismissed the class. A few people stayed around and chatted with Shawn afterward, impressed by his ability to list all the words. And he hadn't finished all of them.

"That was great, Mr. Spencer," Dr. Fleming suddenly appeared at his elbow. "That must have taken you quite a while to memorize."

"Uh, not really," he told her. "I have a really good memory."

"You must," she told him. "Well, thank you for doing that – and you have definitely made up for almost knocking me over," she told him.

"I'm glad," he told her, smiling.

"I think you have a natural aptitude for language and literature," she went on. "Have you considered majoring in English?"

"Not really. I'm not quite sure what to do yet. I need to find something that will give me a good career."

"What were you doing before?" she asked, curiously.

"Uh – I owned a detective agency. I worked with the police and helped them solve crimes."

"Really?" her eyebrows went up. "That sounds intriguing. So are you considering a job in law enforcement now?"

"You mean like being a cop? Uh –no, not really. But I have been thinking maybe about law. I worked a case where I helped a defense attorney. I kind of liked that."

"That sounds like a great idea," she told him. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do to support you. And keep reading that Shakespeare! Maybe you should read The Merchant of Venice, if you haven't already." With that she smiled and headed off.

"The Merchant of Venice," he murmured to himself. "Not sure what that has to do with law, but I'll check it out."

He went home that evening and proceeded to read the play. After he put it down he had decided. "Law it is!"