There are many things in life that Shawn never told his father, or Gus for that matter. Most stemmed from his extended vacation around the country after he left high school. He never told them about that one semester of college in Ohio, or the mugging in Denver. There are certain things you never tell a soul, but sometimes the truth comes out anyway.


I clearly don't own Psych. I'm not nearly as witty as the writers or Steve Franks. I do own a three-hole-puncher, however.

rated for some minor language use, nothing bad.
rated for graphic violence and mentions of drug use.


Shawn Spencer lay sprawled on the couch slipping on a pineapple smoothie, reflecting on his past. It wasn't often that he did this, rather it usually came after a particularly bad fight with his father. Most of the time he could block him out, remind himself that he was doing well in life, and that should be good enough. But he knew in his heart it wasn't good enough for his father, because his father thought he knew him and how he had spent his life on the road.

Hours Earlier:

"Shawn! Listen to me when I'm speaking to you!" His father snapped. Shawn resisted the urge to roll his eyes as his father waved his steak knife at him. Below him rested the same meal his father was devouring, but his however, was untouched. One tended to lose their appetite when they were being lectured and attacked.

"This is speaking to me? I could have sworn it was an unwarranted attack on my life, like always. Come on dad, save your breath. This marks the seventy-fifth time since last week." Shawn replied, shoving his plate to the side. The playfulness in his eyes slowly disappeared and a dull, tiresome look stepped in.

It wasn't even his idea to be having dinner. His father had practically forced him into it. Shawn preferably would be curled up in bed, catching up on the past 36 hours without sleep. The last case had been hellish, involving an ex-officer's wife being found dead. The case was finally over and the killer behind bars. Apparently that didn't satisfy his father though, no, not the fact that Shawn had saved Mr. Liamsworth from the killer who returned a second time. Or the fact that he and Juliet had been the ones to crack the case.

"Unwarranted my ass. Do you know how stupid you were being? Of course not, why would I even ask something like that to you. You don't even know the definition of stupid." His dad spit out. Shawn didn't grace it with a reply, rather he sighed and shoved his chair back.

"I'm going home." He stated simply. He was in no way ready for a fight, not after the last three days he had just had.

"Yea, just like always. Run when it gets tough. Just like after graduation. Just like after you turned twenty one. Just like after you got fired from your last job in Santa Barbara. How is it possible that you can't even do one single thing in your life right?"

Shawn snapped his head back at his father, disbelief flooding his face. "Really? How about all those cases I SOLVED. Without your precious help. But that's beside the point. There is only one reason I "Run"," He used air quotes on the word 'run'," and it's you. Do you seriously think I enjoy this. Are you so sick and delusional that you think I love staying here listening to you bitch and moan about my life? I can't go three hours without something being my fault, wrong, stupid, dangerous, or being a royal screw up in your eyes. And I've had it. You think you know everything about my life. Well newsflash, you don't, and you never will."


He had stormed from his dad's house, throwing his plate into the wall, not caring that it shattered, or that his father continued to scream insults. It took all his willpower not to punch out the glass in the front door, or to even keep the door on its hinges.

As he parked in front of the office he decided to take a small detour and grabbed a smoothie before barricading himself inside the office. To make sure he was guaranteed privacy, he locked the door, and the deadbolt, then he scooted the bookshelf in front of the door, and shut all the blinds. Glancing at his phone he noted that there were six missed calls from his dad, four of them that he made into voice mails. Shawn shut his phone off and tossed it into his desk.

Quickly he made himself take a seat on the couch before he could do any harm to the office. No matter what, nothing was worth facing an angry Gus after he had been sleep deprived for 36 hours. Nothing.

Psych was in its third year of operations, and Shawn Spencer could say, with much assurance, that he was finally happy somewhere in life. He had spent years on the road trying to fill the small hole in his heart that opened after the divorce of his parents. Most of the time it was a temporary fix, others there wasn't any change. It took four years last time for him to finally realize that life on the road wasn't cutting it. With nothing but odd jobs here and there, he could barely scrape enough money to stay at a hotel and keep gas in his motorcycle.

However, life abroad had definitely given him some insight on the real world, mostly the darker side of the real world. It all started when he bailed after graduation, driving almost nonstop to the East Coast, trying to get as far away from his father as possible. He succeeded, and wound up traveling up and down the different beaches before heading back west to Ohio.

There he decided, almost grudgingly, to enroll in some classes at a small community college. He got a job, saved up enough to get an apartment and pay for the classes. In a matter of months he was a full time student, something he never thought he'd actually do, ever.

It didn't last long, barely a semester, but that was mostly because of what happened. It was completely out of his control that time. Shawn had shown up at a small party being thrown in one of the more lavish dorms. When he arrived the party was already in full swing. There were people everywhere downing shot after shot, getting into drug circles, and dancing drunkenly. Shawn shook his head. He could honestly say the only reason he was even here was because he needed a cold one, and he was too broke (and too young) to buy one.

He grabbed a beer that had just been poured from a guy who had taken up the job as 'beer passer-outer'. TThree gulps later and it was gone. He circled the house a few times, and downed two more before staggering out of the building in the direction of his. Immediately he could tell something was wrong, his head was far too cloudy to be drunk, and he was having difficulty remembering where he was going, or where he was for that matter. Shawn never had trouble remembering something.

He made it half way there before he collapsed on the sidewalk. If it hadn't been for the Rent-a-cop Shawn was sure he would have died that night. Tox screens revealed that he had ingested a large amount of the date rape drug, causing him to OD on it. It was the first time in his life that Shawn had been scared, really scared.

As he lay there, sipping on his smoothie, the emotions that went along with that particular memory came flooding back, as if a dam had broken loose. Immediately he was overwhelmed with fear and powerlessness, and the looming thoughts of death.

That was the first thing he had never told Gus or his dad about. Nor would he ever. In fact he refused to tell his name at the hospital, so it went on record as John Doe. He knew that if his name had made it into the database, his father would be there in a heart beat to take him home and lecture him the entire way.

So when he got out of the hospital he dropped his classes, gave the renter notice, and he left Ohio for good.

The phone ringing startled him out of memory lane. Begrudgingly Shawn grabbed the phone and eyed the caller ID. It was his father, again. Shawn rolled his eyes, "Never been this adamant to get the last word." He muttered before unplugging the line from the receiver.

He was sure that in a little while someone would show up, but right now he wasn't in the mood to mess with people. He wanted to sit here, wallow in self pity for a little bit, seethe in angst, and hate his father. Then in a little while he would be okay and he would pack up and go get food, then home to sleep for the next fortnight.

Maybe he would pick up a pineapple along the way.


His vision was blurry, and the pain was spreading throughout his body rapidly. In a rush it all came back to him. He had been mugged, and shot.

Three guys jumped him from behind as he left his motel room that night to go for a ride. He was tackled to the ground roughly and kicked in the side. Defensively Shawn swung at his attacker's legs, successfully taking them out. He tried to jump to his feet, but was shoved down again by two sets of rough hands, this time with more force.

The attackers didn't say a word as they beat him and stripped him of his wallet, phone, room key, and his last twenty. Luckily they didn't take his key to the motorcycle. Once his belongings were gone they turned back to the beating side of this mugging. One of them produced a small knife and waved it tauntingly in his face. One of the men slapped it away and pulled out a black handgun. Wordlessly he shot twice, hitting Shawn in the stomach both times.

Twice he attempted to break free, and each time they beat him back down harder than before. On his last try he began to scream for help, but the biggest one lifted him up and threw him into the wall of the motel. As his back slammed into the concrete exterior Shawn watched as the darkness took over his eyes. He slid into a slouch and tried to weakly ward off his attackers.

Two blows to the head later and he was out cold.

Now, however, he was wide awake and in pain. Above him someone was frantically calling out orders. Beside him someone dropped to his level and began to ask him random questions that he wasn't really sure he knew how to answer. Their words were all jumbled and their face kept swimming out of view.

The darkness took over again.

He awoke this time to bright lights and a loud, obnoxious siren. His abdomen was on fire and his head was about to explode. The white hot pain crept the length of his body causing him to scream out in pain.

For a third time his world went black.


Shawn shuddered at that memory. No one knew that when he was shot trying to solve the 'Great Ice cream Truck Scandal' that it wasn't his first. It was however, his first that wasn't as painful, but boy did it still rank up there.

That memory still haunted him. He could just hear his father berating him on the things he should have done differently. Repressing a snort Shawn focused on forgetting that particular memory. He wasn't too keen on repeating the earlier episode where he was overcome with fear from the OD fiasco.

But as hard as he tried, he couldn't escape the remnants of the pain that still lingered in the back of his mind. When they say your life flashes before your eyes, they lied. The only thing Shawn saw was blurred faces and slurred voices. Nothing matched up, nothing made sense. The only feeling he had was of pain and the foreboding thoughts of his death, and what would happen to those he loved.

Shawn sighed impatiently. This was one memory he would gladly erase forever. There was nothing good about that night or the following two weeks. The two surgeries he had, the first three days he wouldn't stop bleeding, the infections, all the complications.

His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose while the fight made it's way to the forefront of his mind. Shawn though back to what if his father did know about his time on the road. Would he treat him different? Would he hate him that much more? Would he just be disappointed like always?

What about Gus? Shawn already knew that answer. He would treat him no different, but at first he would be skeptical that Shawn was truly okay after it all. While he was in fact 'okay', he found that he still needed time to sit back and wallow in it all. After all, that rich guy did teach him a few things during his stay in Dallas.


"Mr. Asher, please, I seriously am okay. There is no need for me to stay any longer." Shawn said with a smile.

"Shawn, for the last time call me Cole. And I insist. You clearly have no where else to go." Mr. Asher smiled back from across the dining table.

Cole had taken Shawn under his wing after hiring him to mow the lawns of his estate. Despite being his boss, Shawn had no qualms about telling the man exactly what he thought, and Cole had like him from the start. The aging man offered him the guest house, and access to his home, as well as a healthy amount of cash in return for his services.

After being on the road for nearly five months, bouncing from job to job, Shawn gladly accepted. In the short span of eight months Shawn had saved up enough to move back into a small apartment in Santa Barbara.

"Well, that is true, but I miss my best friend. I miss the banter, the witty sarcasm, and the love for all things Pineapple we share." Shawn replied as he dug into tonight's dinner: enchiladas.

"And yet I still see some hesitation in your eyes. You know, I used to be just like you," Cole said dressing up his food. "I was the kid in school who everyone thought would become rich and powerful because some twice removed uncle left him a fortune."

Shawn snorted, "Because that's exactly how it happened."

Cole shrugged, "It's all in the details. But the point is, I know the road you are going down, having driven it myself. So if you want to talk, do so. Otherwise this will be a really boring dinner."

Shawn rose an eyebrow but said nothing. After a few minutes of silence he sighed. "Alright, alright. You win, again. You have an amazing track record in this area Cole."

"I studied to become a psychologist for a while," Cole said nonchalantly.

"Of course you did." Shawn replied with a small smirk. Two bites later he began again. "I'm worried that they'll find out about the stuff that happened on the road. Like me being shot, or the OD, or the temporary kidnap during the bank robbery, or me being stalked by that creepy chick with the camera. I'm still haunted by the sniper shots of me picking my nose."

Cole chuckled, "Ah, Miss Miranda. She was a peach wasn't she?"

"If by peach you mean crazy, inbred Chihuahua, with a photo fetish, then yes, she was quite peachy."

"So what if they do find out." Cole said, ignoring the obvious sarcasm coming from his surrogate ward.

"Well my father won't hesitate to lecture me for the next millennium. My mother will insist on 'helping me' with her psychiatry, and Gus. Well Gus is Gus, and that won't change between us." Shawn said thoughtfully, now pushing his food around.

"I'm sensing this isn't really about them finding out. There's more to it, isn't there?" Cole asked, motioning for the butler to come clear the table. "Thank you Clyde." The butler nodded and was gone in a flash.

Shawn shrugged. "Why lie, you see right through me anyway. So yes, there is more. Part of me isn't over it, and I'm not up for discussing any of it. I don't want them to find out because I don't want to tell them about it, I don't want to relive it, because once was enough."

Cole nodded. "I know the feeling. Do you know that to this day, you are one of two people that know about me nearly drowning in the Gulf? Clyde saved my life."

Shawn gave him a curious look but shook his head. "You mean that no one knows?" He said skeptically.

"Yes, it wasn't fair that I ask you to spill your secrets and not share one in return. So I told you my darkest, scariest one yet. And you know what? It felt pretty damn good to get it off my chest. To this day I still lock my self in my room and just let myself go back to that day and let my mind replay it over and over so I can get it out of my system. It's been forty years since then, when I was just approaching my twenties." Cole explained.

"You really are the father I never had."

"You had a father. I'm more of the cool, rich uncle who leaves you everything when I die."

"You won't, but thanks for that. Thanks for everything, you really are great."


When it all came down to it, this week wasn't just about the case. It was about the letter he received by Cole's lawyer, giving him a copy of the last will and testament that Cole had written up. With it was a hand written letter from Cole, telling Shawn everything that happened since he left three years ago.

He had caught cancer shortly after Shawn had left, and fought it hard for three years, but in the end it won. In his will he left everything to Shawn, just like he said he would.

"What a crazy old bastard," Shawn muttered affectionately.

He picked up the letter that was on the coffee table in front of him and let his eyes scan it or the hundredth time.

I'm sorry I never called back, or even called you first. I'm sorry I never emailed, or dropped in for a visit. Truthfully, I couldn't let you see me like this. I'm nothing like the man you saw those years ago. I'm frail, I'm pale, I look old. My sex appeal is gone as is my hair. Don't you dare make a crack that it was already gone, because my hair was as brilliant as ever three years ago.

Shawn laughed through a couple of stray tears. It was just like Cole to make a joke of dying. For that Shawn envied him. Not once, in any of his near-death experiences could he do that. He let the fear win, and that is one of his biggest regrets.

There was much more that he didn't tell Cole. Most little things that happened, but no one knew what really happened at the bank. Sure Cole knew the gist of it, but he didn't know that Shawn, along with six other people had been taken out of the group and sat in order to be executed until demands were met. Shawn was fifth. He had to watch four people murdered before his eyes.

Even as he sat here the memory wouldn't come to him, and that was just fine with Shawn. He had worked extra hard to keep it repressed, under lock and key, in a cement box, tucked away in the furthest crevice of his mind.

After the fourth person, a woman, mother of two, one of the robbers snapped and turned on his accomplice. He unloaded six shots on him before turning and opening fire on the rest of the hostages. Shawn grabbed the sixth man and dove behind a desk. He remembered vaguely hissing something, then nothing.

The guy that killed his partner turned the gun on himself. Ten people died that day, that was something he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried.

"Sorry Cole," He whispered. He couldn't tell anyone, not even Cole about that one. It was too hard and he worked too much to keep it away.

I told you I would leave you everything. So I did. You have enough money to last a lifetime, though I'm sure it'll end up in a pineapple farm somewhere. That obsession is one that I'll never understand. You've got the cars, the plane, the estate, the money. I didn't leave you the firm, but then again I didn't expect you would want it.

Cole was right, Shawn thought idly. There was no way he could run a firm that he had no idea what it was, nor from so far away.

Despite the lack of contact, I've been well informed of your life the last couple of years. Don't get me wrong, I didn't hire a private eye, rather I have a close relative near you. You know her quite well actually, and she tells me nothing but good about you. Occasionally she'll tell me about your psychic visions.

Psychic, eh? Didn't peg that one, but then I didn't need to. Everyone's entitled to their secrets.

Do you think you could give Karen the other envelope?

When he first read the envelope Shawn nearly choked. Chief Vick? Knew Cole?


"Close the door Mr. Spencer." The Chief said softly.

Shawn obliged and sat in front of her with a sad look on his face.

"You got the letter then." It wasn't a question, more of an observation. Karen sighed lightly before smiling. "I always told him that he should call you. He wouldn't let me, something about being embarrassed about his hair." She shook her head.

Shawn managed a grin. "That's what he said in his letter. I wish he'd have told me. I would have been there in a heartbeat."

"I think that's what made him keep it a secret. He didn't want you to feel obligated to do that."

"Not obligated, want. He did so much for me, more than you'll ever possibly know, and I never got to repay him." Shawn said heavily.

"You repaid him plenty by just being there. He had so many stories of the two of you and each time I brought up your name, I could see a surge of pride in his eyes. He really thought of you as a son. Or rather the surrogate nephew."

"He was my cool, rich uncle who left me everything."

Karen smiled. "Not quite everything, but nearly. I'm sorry I never told you about being his niece."

"Why should you? As far as I knew, no one knew about his connection to me. I don't blame you in the slightest. However, I will blame you if you said bad stuff about me."

"Like Cole would believe anything bad about you. Mr. Spencer, he was convinced that the sun shined out of your ass."

Shawn lost it, a mix of laughter and sorrow. Karen smiled and offered him a hand.


"Clyde! I'm glad you picked up," Shawn exclaimed as the familiar voice answered the number that he had so much trouble dialing. After reading the letter he knew he had to call. Cole left the number after all.

"Mr. Spenc-"

"Shawn, please." Shawn interrupted, mentally rolling his eyes.

"Shawn then. It's a pleasant surprise. I assume you got the letter?" He heard Clyde ask.

"Yes, and that's the reason I'm calling. I'm signing off on the deed and giving you the estate. I have no need for it in Santa Barbara, and you are the only other person Clyde would trust with the place. I'm surprised he didn't leave it to you in the first place."

"That would be because I told him not to. He wanted to believe me, but I thought it would be good for you should you ever need a get away home."

Shawn nodded in appreciation "Thanks, but you deserve it and need it much more than me. Pick a couple of cars too. The old man had six million of them. I'll keep a couple and then sell the rest. Do you need a plane by chance?"

He heard Clyde chuckle into the phone. "No, and neither did he. It was one of those impulse buys. Sell it, you should be able to get a pretty penny for it."

Their conversation lasted hours, reminiscing together. One he hung up he immediately signed at the papers and faxed them to the lawyers office, mentally thanking Gus for investing in a fax machine.

Two days later he walked into the bank and asked to transfer some funds into a couple of his accounts.


"I need to transfer some money into the account I share with Burton Guster," Shawn said with a smile. After two years of sweet talking the lady into letting him get the money, Gus finally broke down and added Shawn to his bank account, saying it was easier that way.

"Sure Mr. Spencer, and how much are you transferring?"

Shawn thought a moment. "Ten million."

The lady behind the counter sputtered, nearly choking on her sucker. "T-ten?"

"Not enough?" Shawn asked. "Make it fifteen." He knew it was a ridiculous amount of money, but Clyde left him an even more ridiculous sum. So he was going to distribute it evenly until it was at a much more comfortable sum for him.

"Are you sure? That's a lot of money." She said while getting the necessary papers.

"Positive. I kind of owe him for all the lost movies he's had to pay for, hijacking his car and using all his gas so many times, the numerous collector's items I buy off eBay with his credit card, the millions of smoothies. I could go on, but there is too much that I owe him. Trust me when I say that I've ran him down a good million or two." Shawn said with a grin.

"We'll have to send a bank statement immediately." She stated as Shawn signed his name.

"All the better!"


Now Shawn was waiting for the day that Gus found out. It should be rather soon, if the postal service was still up to par.

Thinking back on it, he knew the two cars he picked should be arriving soon as well. One was straight to the detailers so it could be officially dubbed the Psychmobile while he was keeping one for when it rained. "No more soggy bike rides," He smiled.

He was startled for a second time that day be the sound of someone banging on the door. Curious Shawn peaked through the blinds to see a very animated Gus pounding on the door.

"SHAWN! I KNOW YOUR IN THERE!" Shawn chuckled but retreated back to the couch. He needed to clean up before letting Gus see the small mess he had made. Checking the clock he was surprised to see that three hours had passed.

When he plugged the phone back in it immediately began to register voice mails. The count climbed up to six, to his astonishment. He would get those later.

"SHAWN! YOUR BIKES OUT HERE FOR GOD SAKE! LET ME IN!" The door rattled threateningly, but Shawn knew there was no way he was getting in with the book case still there. Tossing his empty smoothie cup in the trash he walked to the door way and casually scooted the book case back to it's rightful spot. Counting to ten he slowly opened the door.

"SHAW-" Gus stopped upon seeing Shawn's smirking face.

Shawn stepped aside and Gus pushed past him in a huff. "Shawn! I've been calling you for three hours!"

He shrugged in response. "Phone is off and unplugged the one to the office."

Gus rolled his eyes. "Your dad called. He was pissed that you walked out on dinner, but wouldn't say anything more. Just that I needed to find your ass before you did something stupid."

Shawn sighed heavily and dropped back down on the couch.

"Loooong story. Really, really long, complicated, story."

"I figured, but that's not why I'm here. I got my bank statement today Shawn." Gus said looking exasperated.

Shawn just smiled in return, nodding for him to continue.

"It was fifteen million fuller than the last time I checked." Gus said dropping into his seat behind his desk.

"Wow. That's great!" Shawn feigned surprise.

"Shawn! Who'd you rob?" Gus said sarcastically.

"Some rich guy. He grew fond of me during my last trip away." Shawn said simply, not wanting to get into it.

Gus raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He knew better than to press Shawn when he was like this.

"Besides, I figured I owed you some. So I donated to our account. And Psych's account. Oh and I got us a company car."

Gus just stared at him in wonder, obviously debating on what to say next. He opened his mouth a couple of times before deciding on, "If your dad ever calls me and yells at me like I'm four years old again, I'm going to kill you. And change my number, and possibly my address."

Shawn chucked. "That bad?"

Gus nodded. "He was venting because you had the 'audacity to walk away' and I was the only one stupid enough to answer the phone."

"Buddy, how about I treat you to a smoothie. Mine's fresh out."

"I'm not paying."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Yes you would."

"Fine, but I got them this time."

"Meaning my ass has them for the other seven million?"

"Right you are."

For the first time this week, Shawn felt good.


Fin!

Well sorta. Part duex will be up momentarily.

This has been in my head forever and I finally got around to writing it.

Review please!