2009

Shawn heard his alarm clock go off. Heard it, but didn't quite register it. He remembered fondly the days when he slept in until noon, then remembered that he shouldn't think about such times. Those were behind him.

Shawn sleepily rolled out of bed. He quickly made the bed, making sure to keep it looking as clean as the rest of the house. He rubbed his hands on his face, knowing he needed to shave before he started to get a five o'clock shadow.

Shawn went through his normal morning routine, letting the activity keep hold of most of his thoughts. Shawn put all of his attention into making sure he was presentable, then into cleaning the already tidy kitchen from last night's dinner. Best not to let his thoughts wander. You never knew what they could land on.

Shawn, fully awake and ready, put his badge on his belt and looked at himself once more in the mirror. When he looks in the mirror these days, he doesn't see the kid with the earring and 80's hair. He had gotten over that phase in his life pretty quickly. Now Shawn saw a cop. A clean shaven, neat looking cop, who carried a badge and had a police record cleaner than his own home.

Shawn averted his eyes from the mirror and grabbed his keys, heading out the door of his house.

Shawn turned on the radio as he drove his modest Ford, letting the music fill him and drive out any thoughts or feelings. He bobbed his head to the song and smiled.

He soon arrived at the police station. Shawn parked his car and went into the precinct, politely greeting everyone there. He put on a smile for everyone to see, and quickly walked to his desk in the corner of the room.

"Good morning, O'Hara," Shawn said as the young detective walked past his desk.

She paused by him and sighed. "Shawn, how many times have do I have to tell you to call me Juliet?"

Shawn shook his head. "Always once more, O'Hara," he said, grinning. She rolled her eyes, but didn't appear to get the reference. Shawn frowned and felt disappointed. He supposed that's what he got for trying to converse with someone anyhow. He was here to work, not make friends.

Though Shawn would never admit it to himself, he was a workaholic.

Shawn looked down at his desk, knowing that all paperwork was filed already. His partner was working steadily at his own desk, only looking up to order Officer McNab to get him some coffee. Shawn made a mental note to help the detective to lay off the three creams, four sugars.

Shawn whistled for a moment, then walked to the break room. He felt a twinge of guilt for skipping out on work, but told himself it was only because there was nothing that needed his attention at the moment. He took out his cell phone and dialed his friend, hoping he would answer.

"Burton Guster, manager of sales," Gus answered promptly.

"Hey, buddy," Shawn greeted leaning against the small table there. "Heard about the promotion. Congrats."

Shawn could practically hear Gus' smug smile over the phone. "Employee of the month five times in a row, and now the manager of sales at Central Coast. Damn good for a 33 year old."

Shawn nodded. "You're doing great for yourself, man."

Gus paused for a moment. "Any reason you called, Shawn? Is work okay?"

Shawn bit the inside of his cheek. Gus asked those kinds of questions a lot these days. Always wondering if he was okay, wondering how work was. Shawn was getting a little tired of them to be honest. He knew Gus' true motives, though his friend may not even realize them.

"I'm fine," Shawn said tonelessly. I've been fine. "Just had a little downtime, thought it'd been awhile since we hung out. You want to go see a movie or something this weekend? Scratch that, take Jessie over to my place and I'll make us some steaks. It's been way too long since I've seen her." To Shawn's ears his voice sounded pathetically hopeful.

"I'm sorry, Shawn. There's a company meeting this Saturday. I can't take the day off." Gus sounded truly sorry, and Shawn knew he was. But that didn't stop him from feeling disappointed. Shawn, realizing he was beginning to feel sorry for himself, quickly shut down, masking his unneeded emotions with a nothingness that he had been feeling for years. He liked it better this way. The numbness he felt every day helped him get through the week. Sure, it felt horribly lonely sometimes, but if it helped him cope…

And besides, he wasn't a baby; feeling sad because his friend was a little tied up at the moment (more like fifteen years) wasn't productive.

"That's cool," Shawn lied easily. "Maybe some other time."

"Definitely. Maybe we can get together when your mom comes in for her visit," Gus said.

"She came last week," Shawn sighed; feeling like this was a waste of time. Why had he even bothered asking if Gus wanted to hang out in the first place?

Gus sighed. Shawn could tell he had to get back to work. He quickly said, "Maybe next month we'll all get together. Anyway, I've got to go, mountain of work on my table."

Gus didn't seem to remember that Shawn had previously said that he had downtime, too preoccupied with whatever budget meeting he was planning. "Sure thing, Shawn. See you around."

"Bye," Shawn said hanging up the phone. He felt a strain between them and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could deal with that later.

But the sadness still came, both the sadness of his fractured relationship, and an older sadness, one he hadn't felt in a long time. Shawn winced and put his hand to his head. Oh God no, not here. Quickly blocking out any of his thoughts, he walked as fast as he could out of the room, almost jogging to the shooting range. He probably bumped into people, but he didn't care. He just needed to get to the shooting range, needed to let off some steam, that's all, nothing more. He was fine.

Shawn got down to the familiar shooting range, where a good deal of his time had been spent these past few years. His hand went to his gun and he brought it out. It was an older gun than most around the precinct. Though old, Shawn had always favored this gun over others. He put on the goggles and stuffed the ear plugs in his ears. He slowly lined up his inheritance with the target and emptied the chamber in seven quick seconds. The dull blast of the gun sounded in his ears, and the kickback felt good against his hands. He shot without even thinking about it, his hands automatically lining up the gun with the target's chest. There was only one hole in the piece of paper when Shawn brought it close to him. He smiled. Only one hole, but a damn big hole that had taken a round of bullets.

"How the hell you shoot like that will always be a mystery to me," a voice said from the stairwell. Shawn jumped slightly and turned to see Lassiter walking towards him.

Shawn smiled. "I learned from the best, didn't I?"

Lassiter nodded. "Your father was the best damn shooter this department has ever seen. Though with your record, you'll probably overcome him soon."

Shawn didn't say anything, instead quickly reloading his gun as Lassiter donned a pair of goggles and ear plugs. Lassiter swore he saw an intense sadness in the young detective's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by concentration as he let loose a magazine into the paper target.

"Down at the shooting range again?" He said it casually, but Shawn recognized the undertone of worry all too well. He quickly reloaded his gun.

"Just letting off some steam," Shawn shouted over the bullets.

"For the fourth time this week?" Lassiter yelled. Though he was trying to be casual about it, Shawn knew the questions were out of some sort of concern for him. How many times did he have to say it, he was fine.

Shawn narrowed his eyes and quickly shot the target in the heart. He shot mindlessly, putting all his effort into lining up his sights with the target. Before he realized what happened the gun was out of bullets.

Shawn looked at Lassiter, who was staring at him in a kind of wonder. Shawn sighed. "It's been a hell of a week," he explained simply, shoving his gun back in its holster. Believe it or not, he did feel a little more relaxed. Shooting gave him control, it gave him peace. Shawn had been going there steadily since he enrolled in the academy, and his visits had been becoming more frequent as the years went on.

"I swear, it's like you go to another place when you shoot," Lassiter said. "Same with your investigating."

"Hopefully that place is a little better than this one," Shawn laughed, though not entirely joking. He smoothed down his suit jacket. "So did you come down here to shoot the breeze, or do you have a case for me?"

Lassiter looked at him for a moment and then shook his head. "Chief Vick wants to see you in her office." He sighed. "Listen to her, Spencer."

Shawn frowned, wondering what Vick could possibly want from him that could make Lassiter so solemn. He nodded to Lassiter and jogged up the stairs, heading back into the bullpen.

He politely knocked on the chief's door. "Come in," she said, and he opened the door. Shawn stepped in and stood at attention.

"You called me, Chief?"

Vick was surrounded by paperwork, and held a cup of coffee in her hands. The subtle bags under her eyes came to Shawn's attention. "Still having trouble finding a babysitter for Iris?"

"Don't worry about it, Detective," she said waving it away. "I'll find one for her soon. Now, please, sit down."

Shawn froze in his tracks for a moment, horror in his eyes. He slowly nodded and forced himself to sit in the seat. "What's wrong, Chief?"

"It's about your work hours," Vick said taking a sip of coffee. Shawn raised his eyebrows, still frozen in disbelief. "My…work hours? I'm not sure I understand. I clock in early, leave late, get all my work done. I even come in on weekends. What could be the problem?" Shawn looked genuinely confused.

Vick sighed. "That's exactly the problem, Detective. You're going to run yourself into the ground working this hard. Or do you not remember the Coffee Pot Debacle of 2003?"

Shawn winced. "I've learned from the past, Chief. I take care of myself and I do my work. What more do want?" he said a little exasperated. Couldn't people just leave him alone? Couldn't they just let him do his damn job?

"I want you to take a week off," she said simply. "It's just a week," she said rolling her eyes at his stunned expression. "Go to the beach, play video games, do whatever you do on your days off. Then come back next Monday and do your job."

"Are you shitting me?" Shawn said, perhaps a little louder than necessary.

Vick frowned, her eyebrows shooting down. "Detective Spencer!"

Shawn stood up and put her hands on his desk, making his head level with hers. "So I work all week, I try to save people's lives, and you just want to get rid of me! I'm the best fucking detective you've got!" he snarled pounding his fist against her desk. There was pure rage in his expression as he looked into the Chief's eyes.

She stood up and shoved her finger in Shawn's chest. "Mr. Spencer, I will not tolerate this kind of behavior." Her voice was quiet, but Shawn could hear every word.

"If anything, you're only giving me more reason to make you take a break. Now, get out of my office, and go home. I don't want to see you in this station until you've taken a break. Do I make myself clear?" she said gritting her teeth. Though her voice was calm, it was at its most scary, a voice that would leave any rookie cowering in fear.

But Shawn only stood in his place and glared. "Crystal," he said shortly, walking out of her office. He shut the door behind him and stormed off to his desk, fuming. He picked up his car keys and glanced at Lassiter's desk, watching the detective watch him. Shawn walked up to his desk. "I'll see you next week," he said tightly. Lassiter nodded. "It's for the best, Spencer."

Shawn overcame the urge to take a swing at the older man's head. "Best for whom?" he muttered as he jogged out of the building. He took the steps of the police station two at a time and got into his car, cursing. He slammed his foot on the pedal and drove off to his house, knowing it would be as empty and lonely as a tomb.