Shawn looked at himself in the mirror. He was donning a black, uncomfortable suit, and his tie felt like it was about to strangle him. Amazingly, his face was clean shaven for the first time since he was fifteen.

Shawn ran his hand through his hair, marveling at the new shorter length. Gus had insisted he cut his hair before the funeral, and instead of arguing he went to get a haircut. His long hair had always been an argument with his dad before he'd died. Henry thought it was ridiculous to have it that long, and for some reason Shawn didn't feel comfortable going to the funeral without having shorter hair. He had probably outgrown the hairstyle anyway…

He tightened his tie (as if it needed it), straightened his suit and did a quick once over of himself in the mirror. He was sure he would've looked almost acceptable in his dad's book, and smiled sadly at the thought of Henry seeing him like this. Shawn wondered if he'd be proud.

Shawn was almost about to leave when he remembered his earring. He looked at the piece of jewelry pierced into his ear. He had gotten his ear pierced as a sign of rebellion, knowing his dad would hate it. The earring was the one part of Shawn's wardrobe that didn't feel forced or faked. Everything else felt like an act he was putting on in memory of his dad. Shawn sighed and took off the earring, carefully placing it in his suit pocket. He looked in the mirror one last time and saw a man who didn't resemble remotely resemble Shawn Spencer. He sighed and walked out into the kitchen, where Daren and Gus were waiting for him.

"You ready?" Gus asked. Both he and Daren were wearing black suits almost identical to his. Shawn nodded numbly and the three walked to Daren's car. Shawn remembered the car well from the amount of times the man had driven over here with some new information for a case.

They walked past Shawn's motorcycle, and he felt a pit in his stomach. His dad had hated the damn thing. It was a menace, something that would get his son killed. Yeah, well so would being a cop.

The car was silent as they began to drive. After all, what is there to say when you're driving to the funeral of a man who had touched the lives of all in the car?

It was a sunny Santa Barbara day outside, and Shawn absently thought that it was always raining at funerals in the movies.

Shawn had seen the funeral home before. He had gone there for cops his dad had known, but he himself had hardly spoken to. He had gone there to visit the morgue, to see his first dead body. Shawn remembered his mom hadn't been happy with his dad after that particular adventure. Hell, Shawn had even run through the funeral home at night on a dare. But he had never walked through it like this, with this feeling of dread and this lump in his throat.

Shawn saw the tent in the distant, and the casket that was sitting beneath it. Suddenly he felt a panic in his chest, an overwhelming need to get out of here. His breathing quickened and he put out his hand for Gus to stop.

Gus looked at Shawn in alarm, and Shawn just shook his head. "I can't go, Gus, I can't go to the man's funeral."

Daren approached Shawn, but Gus stopped him. "Go on ahead," he said; sensing this was a moment Shawn wanted to keep private. "We'll catch up."

Daren nodded and began walking towards the tent again, joining the countless other police men and women already gathered there.

"Shawn?" Gus asked his friend, who was now closing his eyes as if to block out the reality that had presented itself with the sighting of the casket.

"Gus, I can't go. I'm sorry, but I hate funerals. I can't stand in front of my dad's…" Shawn sighed and opened his eyes. "I can't go up there and pretend everything was just fine between me and him."

So that was it. Shawn didn't know whether to love or hate the man, didn't know whether to miss him or dance on his grave. Gus felt sympathy for his friend. It can't have been easy having Henry for a dad, and having him for a headstone wasn't going to be any easier.

"Shawn, I know you had your rough spots with your dad. But you can't just bail your own dad's funeral!" Gus exclaimed. The clouds were beginning to obscure the sun, casting shadow on the two.

"Well it's not like he's alive to be disappointed in me anymore," Shawn laughed, though his voice wavered. He ran his hand through his hair, and then immediately stopped, putting his hand down guiltily, as if he had done something wrong. He took a deep breath. "Thanks for this, Gus," he said, putting all of his energy into putting one foot in front of the other.

Gus nodded. "Of course, Shawn. Henry would come back and kill me if I didn't make you attend his funeral."

Shawn laughed at that and Gus had the feeling he was going to be okay today. He had no idea about the future – he wasn't psychic – but he hoped his friend could let Henry go. He knew his friend had trouble letting things go though, whether it was a grudge against his dad or a fight that they had seven years ago. Gus just hoped that this would be the exception.

The two arrived at the tent, and Shawn felt everyone's eyes go to them before quickly looking away. He was poor Henry Spencer's son. The boy who didn't have a father.

Shawn grimaced and took his seat in the front row. Behind him was a sea of black, police officers and detectives and friends and family. All here to see his dad one last time. Like he was a hero or something.

Daren was in the row behind him, and Gus in the seat next to his. Shawn saw his mom, dressed in a dark dress instead of her usual colorful clothing. She saw him and jogged the last few yards to see him. In spite of the occasion, Shawn smiled as she wrapped her arms around him. It was nice to see her again. Damn, it felt like she had left forever. He wondered how anyone could leave for so long, and guiltily thought back to his original plan of ditching Santa Barbara as soon as he could.

"How are you, Goose?" his mom asked as she sat in the seat next to him.

"I'm fine, Mom," Shawn said not looking at the casket in front of him. He turned to her and put on a smile.

His mom didn't fall for it. "Bullshit," she said, her eyes watering. Was she crying because her son felt like he needed it put on a mask of false happiness for her, or because her husband was dead? Shawn wasn't sure. "First the separation, now this…Shawn, I'm so sorry. I feel like this is my fault; I should have been here when it happened."

Shawn quickly shook his head. "Mom, there's nothing you could have done. Dad died in the field, nothing could have changed that," he said flatly. He mentally thanked Gus for looking steadily ahead and not at him as he talked to his mom. He was tired of people looking at him with pity, and was relieved that Gus wasn't a part of that audience.

"Shawn-"

"Can we just not talk about it?" Shawn interrupted.

He felt his mom's hand on his shoulder and she nodded. "I missed you, Goose," she said.

"I missed you too, Mom," Shawn said, thinking about shifting so she would take her hand off his shoulder, but at the same time not wanting to.

One of the last people to arrive was Jack Spencer. Shawn remembered the last time he saw his uncle. It had been five years ago, when he came back from some far off island he had been exploring. Henry never did like it when Jack visited, but Shawn got the feeling that the brothers had been close once. Shawn felt a twang of grief as Jack stood up there by his dad. Shawn watched Jack as he put something into Henry's casket. He looked up and smiled upon seeing Shawn.

"Hey, there," Jack said. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?" he said. Shawn had never seen Jack looking so serious, but even now he could see a small sparkle in his uncle's eyes. It made Shawn smile.

"Treasure hunting treating you well?" Shawn asked.

Jack shrugged. "I almost made a profit, but ah…some of the natives gave me a little trouble."

Shawn almost smirked. It was nice really. Even while everything else seemed different, Jack Spencer could be a constant, never changing.

Jack took something out of his pocket and gave it to Shawn. "Here, I gave one to your dad, but I think you'll be needing one too."

Shawn looked down to see the single copper penny that Jack had shoved into his hand. "The world could use a little more luck," Shawn remembered. "Thanks, Jack."

His uncle nodded. "Forgive me for not staying, but funerals have never really been my thing." If it were anyone else Shawn would think they're being a callous bastard, but Shawn could see the hint of sorrow in Jack's eyes as he looked at the casket one last time. He walked away as the funeral began. Shawn fingered the penny in his hand. He could use a little luck after the events of this past week.

The pastor stood up there, in his black robes. So much God damn black. He couldn't stand it. Shawn made a note to never have it at his funeral. It was too depressing.

The man began speaking about Henry's life. How he had been a great man, a trusted officer, and a loving father. Shawn wasn't so sure about that last part.

He said that Henry was a hero. He had given his life in turn for a stranger; the ultimate sacrifice. Under the pressure of the moment, he had made the choice to go in and save a hostage, to save his fellow officers. He had died a noble death; a hero's death. For this, he would never be forgotten.

A hero's death…Shawn hadn't thought of his father as a hero since junior high. He had given his life for another, but had left his son and (almost ex, Shawn thought bitterly) wife behind.

A hero's death or a regular death…either way it was just death.

People went up to the casket then, and Shawn knew he couldn't avert his eyes from it much longer. People began walking up to him, shaking his hand. We're so sorry for your loss. He was a hero. He was a legend among policemen; he'll never be forgotten.

All Shawn wanted to do was forget. But apparently that was impossible.

It was the policemen who came up to him that puzzled Shawn the most. They had an almost expectant look in their eyes, looking at him in almost awe. Like because his dad was a cop, he would be too. Because his dad was a legend, he would take up the badge and follow in his footsteps. They looked at him, expecting him to be a hero, just because his dad was one too.

Shawn sighed inwardly. He had been planning to run away. To escape his problems, to escape Santa Barbara, and go explore the world. He was planning on never using his observation skills to solve anything more serious than a case of lost keys. And he was absolutely never going to become a cop, no matter how good at it he would be.

Not exactly hero material, Shawn thought.

A kid came up to him next, a boy about his age. He had sandy blonde hair and his eyes lacked the expecting look in them, instead appearing haunted. "Your dad saved my life," he said shaking Shawn's hand. "I thought I was going to die. But then he saved me. He was a hero to me," he said shakily.

Shawn nodded, feeling the lump in his throat worsen. So this was what he was going to be giving up on. By not being a cop, how many people would die? How many lives would there be that he could have saved, if he had just done what his dad wanted of him? What if he was fighting destiny by opting out of being a cop? Doubts filled his mind and Shawn swallowed.

Soon enough, much too soon for Shawn's liking, it was his turn to go up to the casket. Though his mom and Gus were at his side, he forgot about them, instead finally focusing on the face he had been avoiding for the entire event.

Shawn felt sick seeing his dad in that casket. Henry had his eyes closed, he was wearing a nice suit, and his thinning hair was neatly combed. Those details came to Shawn's attention easily, and then slipped away like rain drops being wiped away by a windshield wiper. But one detail came to his mind prominently, claiming his attention. His dad looked peaceful. More peaceful than he had in years.

Is that what you got when you were a hero? When you died a, "hero's death,"? Did you get peace; peace with knowing that you could make the ultimate sacrifice when life dared you to? Whether he wanted to be a cop or not, Shawn felt a little jealous of that peace. Henry got happiness, and he was stuck with feelings more confusing than a Gordian's knot.

A hero's death…

"You want to be a hero, Shawn?"

Being a hero…it sounded nice. He had once hated the idea; hated the idea of being a cop, hero or no hero. But now being a hero seemed more real. It was saving people. Shawn had wanted to be a hero when he was young. At first being a hero meant being Superman, flying in the sky and being invincible. And then his father set him straight. Being a hero meant being a cop. And then, in an act of rebellion, he had fought against being like his father. Like every kid does.

But what else did he have? He couldn't run away. Though he had been planning to for so long, the idea made him cringe now. Running away now would feel like stomping on his father's grave, blatantly announcing to the world that he was too good to save people. He couldn't live with that.

Shawn felt like all prior plans to this moment were slipping by him, wiped away by that imaginary windshield wiper. All notions of running away began to feel more and more shameful, and they were replaced with the crazy idea of actually doing what his father wanted.

Shawn wasn't so sure. He still didn't feel like he could be a cop. It just wasn't in him to carry a badge, to hold a gun. He just wasn't a hero. Not like his dad. Shawn looked again at Henry's peaceful face, and it almost felt like his father was there with him.

"Become a cop."

I can be hero material, Shawn declared silently to his father, feeling like the thought was a vow.