They drove in silence. The trip was short, and Shawn focused on the rhythmic swishing of the windshield wipers. Anything to take his mind off what he was about to do.

Shawn hardly noticed when Gus parked the car in front of the familiar red and white building. His friend didn't say anything; he simply shut off the ignition and sat quietly. Shawn appreciated the patience and made a mental note to thank Gus later. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He couldn't focus on anything else and didn't try. Gus sat in silence and watched his friend, his own heart breaking with Shawn's obvious pain. Fifteen long minutes later, Shawn swallowed hard.

"I'm ready. I can do this."

Gus frowned. "Are you sure? Take as much time as you need."

Shawn shook his head and took a deep breath. "Now or never, buddy." He reached for the door handle and grunted as his injured hand reminded him of its presence. "Ow," Shawn grumbled crossly as he used his left hand instead, pointedly ignoring Gus' lifted eyebrows.

Unsure of how much space to give, Gus kept a respectful distance as Shawn fumbled with his keys. After a moment, Shawn managed to unlock the front door and with another deep breath, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

The house was spotless, and Shawn immediately noticed that Juliet and Lassiter – well, probably just Jules – had taken the time to clean up the kitchen. He closed his eyes as the memories surfaced, unbidden and unwanted. Dad was in the middle of prepping dinner…he must have been carrying the plate of steaks when he…when he…

Shawn found he couldn't even finish the thought. He bit his lip and looked at Gus.

"You don't have to do this right now, Shawn," Gus reminded him gently.

"Yes, I do." Shawn's voice was soft, but Gus recognized the determination. "I…um. Hm." Shawn foundered a little, trying to collect his thoughts. "Lunch, buddy. We haven't eaten. Why don't you go get us some jerk chicken?"

Gus frowned. "The last time I left you alone, you ended up with busted fingers," he reminded his friend warily.

Shawn rubbed his good hand down his face in a motion that was eerily reminiscent of Henry Spencer, Gus noted inwardly. Before Shawn could reply, Gus held up his own hands in surrender. He hesitated to leave his friend alone but understood. "Never mind." He squeezed Shawn's shoulder. "I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Suddenly Shawn found that he couldn't speak. "Thanks," he mouthed soundlessly.

Gus smiled tiredly, and with one final pat to Shawn's shoulder, he turned and quietly walked away.

Once alone, Shawn sighed heavily. Why am I here? He wandered aimlessly through the house for a few minutes. It felt big and cold and hopelessly, heartbreakingly empty.

Without realizing it, Shawn wandered until he was in his father's bedroom. Slowly his mind caught up with his body, and he sank down on the bed with a heavy sigh. I miss you, Dad.

It was then that Shawn heard a familiar voice. He knew it was inside his own mind, no more real than dialogue in a movie, but he listened all the same. Suck it up, kid. I'm dead, you're not. Life goes on.

Shawn chuckled, but felt hot tears prick at his eyes. Tears that he had been fighting for days. Dammit. No. Abruptly he stood, unwilling to give into the despair. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his hands against them, disregarding the flare of pain from his injury.

Sniffling hard, he managed to forestall the tears and just stared blankly out the window for a long while, mindlessly watching waves crash against the shoreline.

I guess this is mine now. All of it. That's a weird thought. Shawn turned, and suddenly noticed that the drawer to the bedside table was slightly ajar. I wondered what Dad kept in here…he always said this room was off-limits, that I had my own and shouldn't need to come in his…even when he lived at home, Shawn had always given his father's room a wide berth. He'd been curious, of course, but not so much to risk Henry's anger over something so seemingly inconsequential. Whether Dad realized it or not, I didn't actually enjoy pissing him off. I tried to save his fury for the important things, like the time that Gus and I wanted to try base jumping off the roof.

Curiosity piqued, Shawn sat on the bed once more and pulled the drawer open. His heart seized in his chest as he saw an envelope with a single word written across it in his father's deliberate, even script.

Shawn. It was addressed to him.

Funny how something so simple could make Shawn's emotions spiral nearly out of control. He bit his lip and took a deep breath. What is this? Shawn hesitated as he reached for the envelope. It was ordinary, not large or even particularly thick. Just a regular envelope.

Shawn tried to ignore the trembling in his fingers as he ripped it open to reveal a letter.

Kid:

If you're reading this, I'd better be dead. At least I can't think of another reason you'd be snooping around in my bedroom. Not if you know what's good for you, anyway.

So I guess that's it. I'm gone. And have to I figure that I never actually told you what I always intended. I was never much good at being that kind of father, the one who lavishes affection and praise. I guess I should have tried harder. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered. Maybe our relationship would have been exactly the same, but I should have tried. For your sake.

You're a great kid, Shawn. The best kid. I never gave you enough credit for anything. You may be the single biggest pain in the ass I've ever encountered in my life, but you're also the smartest. You get that from your mother, no doubt, along with that remarkable memory. Wish I could take credit, but you sure didn't get it from me. You're really something else, kiddo.

I'm sorry, by the way. Sorry that I never told you what you always deserved to hear. So here it is, better late than never I suppose.

At least I hope it isn't too late. For you, that is. Because if you're reading this then my time is already up.

I love you, Shawn. I love you so much. From the moment I first saw you - screaming your fool head off in the doctor's hands - I adored you more than ever seemed possible. And I'm proud of you. Do you understand that? I am so proud of you. Always have been, always will be. Never doubt that.

Suck it up, pal. I may be dead, but you sure as hell aren't. Life goes on. Make it count.

Dad

Shawn finished reading and blinked as tears flowed down pale cheeks. Stunned and heartbroken, he was completely powerless to stop them. He was still sitting on the edge of Henry's bed, holding the letter and weeping openly whenever Gus returned.

"Shawn? Are you okay?" Gus fretted, gingerly taking a seat next to his friend.

After a long moment, Shawn raised bloodshot hazel eyes to meet concerned brown ones. "He loved me, Gus. Dad loved me."

Puzzled, Gus replied quietly, "Of course he did, Shawn. He was your father." Despite their complicated relationship, Gus never doubted the elder Spencer's love for his only child.

He'd also never realized that maybe Shawn had.

"No, you don't understand," Shawn shook his head slowly, as if making a realization for the very first time. "Everything I've ever done, all the times we fought...it didn't matter. He was still proud of me. See?" Shawn waved the letter around, tears streaming down his face. "He loved me. I never…" he broke off with a sob. "Gus, he was proud of me."

Torn between wanting to stay with his broken friend and knowing that Shawn needed some time to process what he'd apparently just realized, Gus made a decision. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," he said softly. He patted Shawn's thigh as he stood and crossed the room, sparing one last look at his grieving buddy before silently closing the door behind him.

Tears continued streaming down the psychic's face and he barely noticed his friend's departure. Shawn lay down on his father's bed, curling onto one side and crying like he never had in his life.

He wept until the tears ran dry then slowly drifted into an exhausted sleep. Almost thirty minutes later, a worried Gus quietly pushed the door open. "Shawn?" At the lack of response, he peeked in and sighed in relief at the sight. Shawn was curled up on what had been Henry's side of the bed, sound asleep, with a piece of paper clutched in his left hand.

"Get some rest, Shawn," Gus murmured. He pulled a nearby afghan over his buddy's still frame. Shawn stirred a little and sighed, relaxing further into the pillow even as his grip on the letter tightened.

Gus smiled sadly and turned to leave, planning to watch television in the den until Shawn awakened. As he headed for the door, he heard a quiet voice. The words were groggy and slurred by sleep, but unmistakable in their sorrow.

"Goodbye, Dad. I love you too."

Gus didn't even try to stop the tears that flowed down his own cheeks as he closed the door.