A/N: A HUGE thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and/or put this story on their alert list! For the fans of Henry and Lassie – I hope you guys like my take on their relationship. For those of you who haven't read this ship before or are feeling skeptical of it – thank you so much for giving this fic a chance, and I hope you like it!

This chapter is basically a continuation of the introduction. After this, it'll pick up and we'll get to the real story.

Chapter Two

The first thing Shawn and Gus saw upon entering the bullpen was Lassiter, standing across the room and scowling irritably at a working Henry. "You moved my desk again, Spencer."

Henry looked up over his reading glasses. He glanced at the tabletop. "Looks fine to me."

"Look!" Lassiter pointed to a tiny mark he'd made on the support beam beside the two desks. "That line was perfectly matched up with the edge of my desk yesterday. Now, it's at least two centimeters in front of it."

"Yeah, Lassiter," Henry said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I did that. Because I just love hearing you bitch. Why would I move your desk? Really, what would be my motive?"

"To annoy me. To assert power. To make yourself feel important. Because you're a crazy old man."

"I'm the crazy one?"

"Are you sure they weren't trying to kill each other in the picture?" Gus asked quietly, watching the two snipe at each other. Shawn shook his head, clearly embarrassed for the two.

"Shawn?" Juliet made her way across the room with a frown. "What are you doing here? You're not on any cases."

"What?" Shawn said with a grin. "I can't stop by and say hello to the most beautiful woman in the world?"

Juliet smiled and Gus, seeing that Shawn was going into Flirt Mode (which, once initiated, was impossible for him to break out of), added, "And by the most beautiful woman in the world, he means Lassiter. Are you guys busy?"

"Not really. We don't have any cases going." Juliet raised an eyebrow at him. "Is something wrong, Gus? You look a little… disturbed."

Shawn, snapping out of his apparent trance, winced. "That's because he is, Jules. As am I. In fact, I would say I'm about eight times more disturbed than he is. He's being a wimp. I'm a tragic hero."

"Of course you are." Juliet looked at Lassiter (who was now attempting to shove his desk back into its "rightful" place while Henry pushed adamantly back). "Wow, he really is in a bad mood. Good luck, guys."

"Luck?" Shawn spread out his arms. "Jules, please. When you have this much finesse, you don't need luck."

Shawn's Finesse-O-Meter must have been broken, because the second Henry saw him, he snapped, "No, Shawn. No. Get out."

"Dad…"

"I said no. We don't have any cases right now, and I'm not lending you money. Leave."

"You can't possibly consider that I might have another reason for being here?" Shawn asked. "That hurts, Dad. It really does. I'm your son, and you have no faith in me."

"The fact that you're my son is why I have no faith in you. I know you too well," Henry said. He smirked at Lassiter, who had given up on the fight and fallen into his chair with a sullen expression. "You expect me to believe you're here to socialize?"

Gus stepped in. "That's actually not entirely wrong. Shawn and I have to talk to you and Lassiter about some… personal business."

Lassiter looked up with a frown. "Me? What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Personal business." Shawn pointed at Gus. "That's what he just said."

"What personal business?" Lassiter pried. "We're not friends. "

"Well, we're kind of friends," Shawn said.

"No, we are not."

"A little bit."

"No."

"Teeeeeeeeny bit."

"Spencer –"

"Could we get to the point, please?" Henry barked.

"We will," Gus promised. "But not here. Are any of the interrogation rooms free?"

"Guster, if you think we're going to do some big song and dance for you two clowns, you are sadly mistaken," Lassiter said, his words clipped, as he booted up his laptop. "Unlike you oversized first graders, we have actual work to do."

"Fine." Shawn reached into Gus's bag and pulled out the album, tossing it on Henry's desk. "I just thought you might be interested in this."

Henry frowned at the plain, black, vinyl cover. He flipped it open to the middle, and his eyes widened. He slammed it closed, and his face flushed. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll go with you."

"Speak for yourself," Lassiter grumbled. "I'm not going to indulge their idiocy."

Henry leaned forward and pushed Lassiter's laptop closed. When Lassiter opened his mouth to object, clearly enraged, he murmured, "You're going to want to see this."

The two stared each other down, Henry calm and determined, Lassiter pink-faced and furious. Just when Gus was thinking he should call his boss and let him know that his "grandmother with the two broken hips" was suddenly doing much better and he could, in fact, do his route that day, Lassiter stood abruptly, pushing his chair back. "Fine," he hissed. He glared at Shawn. "Don't waste my time, Spencer."

"I can't make any promises, Lassie," Shawn said, grabbing the album and leading the way to the interrogation rooms. "I think you know how much I enjoy the sweet, melodic tone of my own voice. Sure, it might lead to the occasional string of bizarre rambling, but really, isn't that a small price to pay to listen to this beauty?"

Henry shoved his son into the first room they came across. Once everyone was inside, he locked the door behind him and settled into one of the chairs. Gus and Shawn followed suit, leaving Lassiter to stand uncomfortably by himself beside the door. "Take a seat," Henry advised him, voice heavy with dread. "You're going to want to be sitting down for this."

Lassiter frowned, but did as he was told, sitting beside Henry. "Well?" he asked. "What did you drag us down here for?"

"Good question, Lassie," Shawn replied. "And let me answer that with another one." He tossed the album in the middle of the table. "Would you mind explaining this?"

Lassiter gave him a skeptical look, as though afraid the tiny book was rigged with some sort of explosive. He gingerly pulled it toward him and flipped to the first page. "What the…" He turned the page and paled, eyes wide. "What – how – but – you son of a bitch!" he yelled, turning to Henry. "You kept these?!"

"Now, listen," Henry began, but Lassiter shouted over him.

"Why would you keep these, you pervert?! What the hell is wrong with you? You were a Goddamn detective! You should know better than to leave stuff like this laying around!"

"I didn't leave it 'laying around!' I had it in a sealed box in my attic!"

"You shouldn't have had it at all, you idiot!"

"Whoah, whoah, whoah!" Shawn hammered on the table loud enough to silence the two bickering cops. "Focus, guys! I asked a question!"

"And we're not answering it," Lassiter growled, holding the album close to his chest. "This is between Henry and me. It has nothing to do with either of you. So I suggest you both go home and forget you ever saw this."

"I would if I could, Lassie," Shawn said. He shuddered slightly. "Unfortunately, I never forget."

"Besides," Gus added, "that's not all there was. There's a whole box full of photos and video tapes."

"Video tapes?" Lassiter stared at Henry, shaking with anger. "You kept the video tapes, too?"

Henry didn't answer. His gaze turned sharp and shrewd as he looked at his son. "What do you want, Shawn?"

"I want – deserve – an explanation." Shawn leaned forward, glaring at his father. "At least one of those pictures is from when you and Mom were still married. I want to know what could have possibly happened to make you think cheating on her was a good idea."

"I didn't cheat on her," Henry said instantly.

Shawn snorted, and Gus said, "You slept with someone else while you were married to her. What else would you call that?"

Henry and Lassiter exchanged weary glances. "That's a long story, Shawn," Henry said, clearly uncomfortable.

Shawn leaned back, kicking his feet up on the table and lacing his fingers behind his head with a stoic expression. "I don't know about you, but I've got time." It was more of a dare than anything else.

Henry sighed. "You wanna explain?" he asked Lassiter.

"God, no."

Henry threw his hands up in exasperation. "Okay, fine." He rubbed his eyes. "It all started when Maddie and I started having problems…"

A/N: I know, I did the cliché fade-out with ellipses. I am so sorry. Please R+R anyway!