Carry On, a psych fanfic

When I was a young boy
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band.

Shawn was nine years old the first time his father took him to a funeral.

It was for a cop, just a few years older than Henry, who had been shot during a robbery.

The slow, mournful wail of the bagpipes filled the afternoon air as the casket was lowered into the ground and scattered with dirt.

Later that night, the awful, grating noise filled Shawn's dreams.

For years, it filled his dreams.

The bagpipes…

The casket...

Is this what you get for carrying a badge? He wondered.

Is this what you get for being a hero?

He said, "Son when you grow up,
would you be the savior of the broken,
the beaten and the damned?"

Shawn always knew was going to be a cop when he grew up.

He had to be a cop.

His grandfather had been a cop, his father was a cop, and it was up to him to carry it on.

He had to carry it on.

It was all his dad ever talked about, all he ever wanted.

To help people.

To protect people.

To get the bad guys.

But after that day, after seeing that casket and hearing those moaning bagpipes…

Suddenly, Shawn wasn't so sure.

Could he do it?

Did he even want to do it?

He said "Will you defeat them,
your demons, and all the non-believers,
the plans that they have made?"
"Because one day I'll leave you,
A phantom to lead you in the summer,
To join The Black Parade."

"Dad," he had whispered in the car on the way home.

"What, Shawn?"

"Are you going to get shot, too?"

"Not today."

That was all Henry would say.

That was all he could say.

He couldn't say what would happen tomorrow.

He could never say what would happen tomorrow.

When I was a young boy,
My father took me into the city
To see a marching band.
He said, "Son when you grow up,
would you be the savior of the broken,
the beaten and the damned?"

It was a noble life.

Even at nine, Shawn understood that.

It was a calling.

It was the right thing to do.

He had to carry it on.

But he still couldn't sleep for weeks after the funeral, thinking about it.

Worrying about it.

He could get shot.

Any day…any time…my dad could get shot.

He could end up dead.

What if he ends up dead?

He never told his father any of this, of course.

You just didn't tell Henry Spencer you worried about him.

You just didn't tell Henry Spencer that every time he left the house wearing that uniform, you secretly wondered if you would ever see him again.
But Shawn could tell his mom.

Even after the divorce, he could tell her everything.

"Shawn," she would say gently. "You don't have to be a cop. You don't have to be anything other than what you are."

That always made him feel a bit better, until he would realize he wasn't sure who he was.

And how could he ever become what he was if he wasn't sure who he was?

Sometimes I get the feeling she's watching over me.
And other times I feel like I should go.

After his parents split up for good and he moved in with his mom, Shawn decided he wasn't a cop after all.

Anything but a cop.

He wasn't going to carry it on.

He couldn't carry it on.

Who wanted to get shot at?

Who wanted to have your family, everyone you loved, constantly worried about you?

Who wanted to obsess about cases to the point it destroyed your marriage?

Who wanted the long hours, the terrible pay and the ulcers?

Who wanted any of it?

No.

I'm not a cop.

Anything but a cop.

And through it all, the rise and fall, the bodies in the streets.
And when you're gone we want you all to know.
We'll carry on,
We'll carry on

By the time he was eighteen, however, he knew the terrible truth.

It didn't matter what he wanted.

It didn't matter how hard he fought it.

It didn't matter that he would never admit it to anyone, especially not to his father.

He was a cop at heart.

He would always be a cop at heart.

Henry had passed one thing and one thing only down to his son, and that was it.

He didn't have a choice.

He had to carry it on.

Somehow, some way, he had to carry it on.

And though you're dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on
And in my heart I can't contain it
The anthem won't explain it.

The first time he called in a tip, he didn't even know why he was doing it.

He couldn't think of a good reason, but he told himself it was no big deal.

I'm not doing this because I want to help…

I'm not doing this because I care…

I need the money.

I have no interest in justice.

I don't want to catch bad guys…even though I'm good at it…

It's not me.

I'm not a cop.

I'm not my father.

A world that sends you reeling from decimated dreams
Your misery and hate will kill us all.
So paint it black and take it back
Let's shout it loud and clear
Defiant to the end we hear the call
To carry on
We'll carry on

The second time he called in a tip, it was a bit harder to conceal his altruistic motives.

He didn't need the money this time.

Not really.

He didn't even claim the reward.

But he kept telling himself it wasn't what it looked like.

I'm not my father.

I won't let crime become my life.

I won't lose myself in my work.

I don't care if my dad's a cop and my grandfather was a cop and my great-grandfather was a cop…I won't be one.

I won't carry it on.

And though you're dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on

I'm not a cop…

I'm more than that.

I' m more.

Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part

And then he called in the wrong tip on the wrong day to the wrong cop.

He was backed into a corner…

They had him all wrong.

They didn't know who he was, and he still couldn't admit the truth.

He'd never admit the truth.

He called in tips because he was a cop. A cop without a badge. A cop who couldn't stand to see a crime go unpunished.

He was his father.

But he would never admit that.

So he told one little lie.

One little lie that changed his life.

One little lie that showed him who he was.

And, as it turned out, who he was wasn't a cop after all.

It was a psychic.

I won't explain or say I'm sorry
I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scar
Give a cheer for all the broken
Listen here, because it's who we are

Naturally, Henry didn't understand.

He would never understand.

It would never be enough, not without a badge.

But Shawn could never carry a badge.

He wasn't his father.

He didn't want to be shot at.

He didn't want to break up domestic disturbances or fill out reports.

He didn't want to lose himself in the uniform.

But he could also never leave the life completely alone. He could never leave a crime unsolved, because he was his father.

I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
Just a boy, who had to sing this song
I'm just a man, I'm not a hero
I! don't! care!

Eventually, he learned to accept it.

He learned to accept it all.

He learned to accept that he was secretly a cop.

He would always be a cop.

He learned to accept his father would never understand a cop without a badge.

He even learned to accept the lies he told everyday to keep his cover, to keep playing his part.

We'll carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're dead and gone believe me
Your memory will carry on
We'll carry on
And though you're broken and defeated
Your weary widow marches on
Do or die, you'll never make me
Because the world will never take my heart
Go and try, you'll never break me
We want it all, we wanna play this part (We'll carry on)

But the one thing he never quite learned to accept was the fact that he had no choice in any of it.

Psych, the cases, the SBPD….he didn't choose any of it.

It chose him.

He had to carry on.