"Nice uniform."
Shawn lazily opened one eye at the familiar voice above him.
"Shut up," he grinned, slowly forcing himself to sit up as Gus collapsed onto the couch next to him.
"No, really." Gus insisted. "It suits you. You look just like your dad."
"I do not!"
"Are you kidding?" Gus snorted, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "All you have to do is start saying things like…'Don't do that, Shawn!'…and 'Think!'….and 'Gus, Shawn's an idiot. You're way smarter than him…'"
"My dad never said that."
"Sure he did. You weren't there."
"Shut up!"
Gus laughed as Shawn wrenched off his tie and tossed it on the floor bitterly, as if destroying it would somehow free him from any lingering resemblance to his father.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Shawn asked, every joint in his body popping and cracking as he stood up and stretched. "I thought you went back to your real job."
"It's still my office, too, Shawn. We have six months left on the lease. I'm not going to waste my money."
"Right."
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be walking a beat somewhere?"
Shawn shrugged, gesturing half-heartedly at the books scattered across the floor.
"I had some studying to do."
"Studying?" Gus laughed. "Since when do you study?"
"I don't have a choice, Gus. This isn't high school. I can't just memorize the answer keys."
"What about your case?"
"I can do both," Shawn replied without thinking.
Gus' grin broadened.
He had finally trapped his friend.
Shawn blinked in surprise at his own slip-up, but he knew it was too late to backpedal now.
"How'd you--"
"I guess you're not the only psychic around here," Gus smirked, raising a single, victorious finger to his temple. "Maybe some of your fake powers rubbed off on me…"
He suddenly gasped dramatically and brought his other hand up to his head, gripping his ears as if in the throws of a painful headache.
"Oh! Wait! I'm getting something else…!" He groaned, his voice ominous and foreboding.
"Knock if off, Gus." Shawn scowled, rolling his eyes. "And that's a terrible psychic impression! It's not psychic-y at all!"
But Gus was having way too much fun to stop now. He stumbled around the room, moaning and mumbling incoherent garble under his breath.
"Okay, I don't do that!" Shawn protested, crossing his arms in a huff. "My visions have way more pizzazz than that! It's called showmanship, Gus!"
"I'm getting something…" Gus pressed on, ignoring Shawn's critiques. "…Two names…Darren Matthews… and Simon Boyle…"
His eyes snapped open again, just in time to see Shawn's jaw hit the floor.
"Am I close?" He asked with a knowing raise of his eyebrows.
"Yeah," Shawn nodded, clearly impressed. "You're close. How'd you figure it out?"
"Same way you do, Psychic." Gus grinned, pulling a rolled-up newspaper out of his back pocket and tossing it to Shawn. "There was an article about Simon Boyle's heart attack at the Academy. They mentioned a similar incident earlier this month, so I looked it up. Two heart attacks in a month? Come on. It's murder, right? That's why you're there."
Shawn sighed and glanced at the article, which was a small third page story without even a picture accompanying it.
"The ME's final report hasn't come back yet," he said finally, figuring there was no point in keeping up his charade. "At first glance, they both look like heart attacks, but nothing's official until the autopsies are done. The Chief just didn't want to wait for another body before she started investigating."
"So, you're undercover, right?" Gus' eyes danced excitedly at the prospect.
"I can't tell you, Gus."
"But you are."
"I can't tell you…" Shawn repeated slowly, emphasizing each word. "…That yes I am."
The non-confirming confirmation was all Gus needed. He leaned back on the couch, crossing his legs proudly.
"I told you you didn't want to be a cop."
"Yeah," Shawn sighed. "I know."
"And I was right! You so don't want to be a cop!"
"Gus!" Shawn snapped, his ears turning red. "Don't rub it in!"
Gus laughed, deciding he could save the rest for later.
"So, about the case…" he leaned forward eagerly, changing the subject. "What do we know so far?"
"'We'?" Shawn scoffed, throwing the paper back at him. "I thought you were too busy dealing drugs to work nights and weekends."
"Hey," Gus grinned, catching the paper in one hand and tossing it aside in a single motion. "I'm never too busy to watch you suffer."
One mile left...
One mile left...
One mile left…
I think…
Oh, God, which lap am I on…?
I lost track of my laps…
Shawn's thoughts pulsed through his mind, keeping perfect time with the rhythm of his sneakers striking the track as he ran yet another endless three miles.
He tried to think about something else…anything else…
The case…
The case…
The no-where, know-nothing case…
This was his third day at the Academy, and he still hadn't uncovered anything.
He still wasn't even sure what he was looking for.
His eyes narrowed in concentration as his feet kept running…still running…
Two victims…
Casual acquaintances only…didn't hang out outside of the Academy…
…Why are they both dead…?
He had talked with some of the cadets over the last few days, but hadn't found a nonchalant way to broach the subject of the deaths.
I have to figure something out…
I have to get something…
Soon…
He had been over every inch of the obstacle course, but hadn't found anything there, either.
He had even looked for a connection between the two victims, but as far as he could tell, there wasn't one outside of the Academy.
There has to be something…
Some reason they're both dead…
He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the running steps next to him, falling into perfect pace with his own.
"Are you, like, going for Zen and the Art of Running or something?" A voice suddenly cut through his trance.
He blinked and looked over at the cadet running next to him.
She was a pretty girl in her mid-twenties who Shawn had noticed in several of his classes. Her short blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she didn't seem to be the least bit out of breath from the exercise.
"What do you mean?" Shawn asked, grinning instinctively.
"You haven't blinked in about four minutes," she returned with a tiny smile. "I know. I've been watching you."
"Blinking is for wimps," he snorted in a feeble attempt to sound tough and cop-like.
"Is it?" She laughed.
"Sure," Shawn nodded authoritatively, turning his head just enough to look in her eyes. "I only blink about five times a day…and I'm trying to get it down to two."
"Good luck with that."
"Thank you."
"I didn't realize psychics frowned on blinking," she added casually, tossing her ponytail behind her head before pulling ahead of him again. "I just thought it was all fortune cookies and crystal balls."
Shawn stopped short, watching her jog further and further away.
A grin slowly crept across his face as he picked up the pace again, but she was too far ahead for him to catch up now.
The police Academy just got a whole lot more interesting…