For the first time in his life, Shawn willingly hung around after class was dismissed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He hissed at his father the moment the classroom had emptied.

"What am I doing here?" Henry returned flatly, erasing the blackboard without much enthusiasm. "I'm a retired cop, Shawn. You know I've taught Academy classes before."

"You didn't tell me you were teaching one now!"

"You didn't tell me you were taking one now." Henry shot back.

Shawn's jaw clamped shut.

For once, he couldn't argue.

"This is Jim Strictland's class," Henry continued, not bothering to wait for Shawn's non-existent rebuttal. "He just had a double bypass, so I said I'd fill-in for a few weeks. That's what I'm doing here. What the hell are you doing here, Shawn?"

He dropped the eraser on the chalk tray and turned to his son, his piercing eyes narrowing into incredulous slits.

Shawn looked down at his shiny black shoes, searching for an answer.

"I'm…here." He said quietly. "I enrolled in the Academy."

"Yeah. Gus told me."

Shawn glanced up again, surprised.

"He did?"

"He was pissed, Shawn. He didn't know anything about it. He wanted to know if I had any idea what the hell was going on with you. Of course, it came as news to me that my son had decided to become a cop overnight."

"It wasn't overnight." Shawn argued limply. "I've been thinking about it for a while."

Henry snorted, wiping his dusty hands off on his pants as he started for the door.

"Kid, please. If you have to lie to Gus to keep your cover, fine. But give me some credit. We both know there's only one reason you would enroll in the Academy."

"Maybe I just want to be like you," Shawn muttered, knowing it was pointless to protest anymore.

His father had him figured out.

Henry turned back around, not the least bit amused by his son's flippancy.

"Shut up, Kid. I don't know what you're investigating, and I'm not going to ask. But you're wearing a uniform now, Shawn. A real one. Not that Halloween costume you had when you were a kid. I'm sure as hell not going to let you take that lightly."

"I'm not taking it lightly!"

"You're not even wearing it right!" Henry snapped, looking his son over disapprovingly. "Your shirt isn't tucked it, your shoes aren't shined, and your pants aren't even pressed. For God's sake, Shawn! You're not going to last three days if you don't take this seriously!"

Shawn looked down at himself, tucking his shirt in absently.

He didn't look that bad…

"I know you don't want to be here, Kid." Henry continued, turning on his heel and marching out the door. "But this isn't a game. This isn't one of your little Weinermobile jobs you can just quit. If you don't want to wash out of the Academy before you crack your case, you're going to have to try a hell of a lot harder than this."

Lassiter couldn't help it.

When he stepped into the Chief's office for Shawn's daily debriefing and saw the psychic sitting there, slumped in his chair and looking absolutely miserable in his brand new blue uniform, he had to grin.

"Did you have a fun first day of school, Spencer?" He asked with a smirk as he shut the office door behind him. "Did the other kids let you play in the sandbox?"

"Shut up, Lassie," Shawn scowled.

But Lassiter wasn't about to shut up.

He finally had ammunition, and he was going to use every last bit of it.

"Now, now. I officially outrank you." He pointed out with quite a bit of satisfaction, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Then shut up, Sir." Shawn snapped.

Lassiter laughed, and was about to keep tormenting him, but the office door opened again and Juliet and Chief Vick entered the room.

"Nice uniform," Jules grinned at Shawn as she took a seat next to her partner.

Shawn's eyebrows shot up, his day suddenly looking brighter.

"You like it?" He asked slyly. "It comes with handcuffs…and a gun!"

"That's my gun." Lassiter growled. "And it's just for the shooting range, Spencer!"

"We're not here to discuss handcuffs or guns." Vick snapped, checking her watch impatiently before turning to Shawn. "Did you get any psychic readings on the case, Mr. Spencer?"

"No," Shawn shook his head with a grimace. "I was too busy running…and running…and running. Seriously, haven't you people ever heard of a bike?"

Lassiter laughed again, endlessly amused by the mental image of Shawn being forced to run.

Shawn glared at him spitefully.

"We had to run, like, three miles!" He grumbled. "And we didn't even get to shoot anything at the end of it! No wonder those guys had heart attacks!"

"Three miles?" Lassiter snorted, his eyes glinting. "It'll be seven by the time you're done. And you haven't even gotten to the obstacle course yet…or responded to a domestic disturbance…"

Shawn groaned, closing his eyes painfully as his future flashed before them.

"Why the hell would anyone ever want to be a cop?" He muttered under his breath.

Lassiter shrugged.

"Because it pays so damn well." He grinned.