Rating: PG-13
Summery: When a former partner of Henry's comes under investigation, Shawn will do anything to get assigned to the case. Turns out, he's not interested in helping an old family friend; he's out to protect himself.
Warning: Mentions of child abuse and use of coarse language.
Disclaimer: Psych and all related characters are the property of USA Networks and a bunch of other people in suits. Please don't sue.
'No hand can make the clock strike for me the hours that are passed.' Chapter One
— Lord Byron
1992
The first time it happened, Shawn had been 15 years old, slightly tipsy and very much wanting to rebel against his father's suffocating boundaries. It hadn't bothered him that first time. Not at all. In fact, the attention made him feel adult and charismatic. It made him feel powerful.
"You're a very handsome boy," he'd told him.
"I know," Shawn had responded, cheekiness present even then.
The other had chuckled and handed him another strawberry-flavored wine cooler. At the time, Shawn had thought nothing of the fact that he had finished off three of the bitter drinks while the other hadn't even finished one.
"Are you sure?" he had asked, worried about just how far he should push the limits. There was the possibility his father would find out about tonight's activities, and the other's protection would only extend so far.
"Don't worry, Shawn," he'd said with a wink and a ruffle of Shawn's hair. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."
Shawn smiled and downed half his bottle. A heady sense of pleasure rushed to his head and he laughed at the feel of it.
"Promise?" he'd said, smiling around the mouth of the bottle.
"Promise," the other had said. He spoke to Shawn like they were old friends. Like Shawn could trust him to defend him from all the dangers of the world.
And, like a fool, he fell for it.
Present day
Santa Barbara Police Department bullpen
"Roll-up," Shawn said.
"By the foot," Gus retorted.
"Roll-up."
"By the foot!"
"Roll-up."
"Shawn, we're not discussing this anymore. You get more food with a Fruit By the Foot than you do a Fruit Roll-Up. It's the more economical buy."
"They're cheating you, dude. They just cut the fruit up in narrow strips to make you think you're getting more. Actually, it's the same amount of fruit stuff without the fun cutouts."
To say Shawn and Gus were starting to get on each others' nerves would have been an gargantuan understatement.
It had been two weeks—two excruciatingly long weeks, as a matter of fact—since their last real job, and since then, the Psych office hadn't seen anything more serious than a case of a missing cat. (Which, by the way, they totally would have taken if the client's parents hadn't accused them of trying to rip-off a 9-year-old.) Apparently, serious crime in Santa Barbara had decided to go on vacation.
"I don't even know why we're having this discussion," Gus grumbled. "Neither one of us even likes fruit leather."
"You started it," Shawn shot back.
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not!"
"Did—"
"Gentlemen!" a firm voice interrupted. The two turned to see a stern-looking Karen Vick standing in the entrance of her office, both hands on her hips. "It's about time you got here. I called you more than two hours ago."
"I'm sorry, Chief," Shawn said, voice oozing with false sympathy. "We were in the midst of our weekly office-snack shopping trip when you called. We would have left sooner but Gus here insisted on wasting time and money on ribbon-shaped foods."
"I'm not the one who picked up the box, Shawn. Besides, it is my money."
"Dude, I didn't even—"
"Gentlemen," the Chief interrupted again, her voice sounding weary. "Please." She gestured inside her office. "Just come in and sit down. I have something important to speak with you about."
Karen turned from the doorway and settled into the chair behind her desk. The desk's surface was buried underneath reports and days-old newspapers. She pointed to the two chairs in front of her desk, before digging into the piles of paperwork. "Sit."
Shawn and Gus followed her into the office and drew the chairs closer to the desk. "So, what's this about, Chief?" Shawn asked casually as he relaxed into his seat.
"I don't know if you're aware, but we've been investigating a local producer of child pornography," Karen began, flipping through a manila folder of notes. "We don't normally handle these kind of cases; sexual exploitation of children tends to fall under federal jurisdiction. However, this was a … special circumstance."
"And you want us to help you?" Gus asked, horror obvious in his voice.
"I don't want you helping with the investigation; I want you protecting it," she looked up, giving Shawn a worried glance. "From your father."
Shawn frowned slightly. "That's going to be kinda difficult considering he works for you. What exactly am I keeping him from?"
Karen sighed, before closing the folder and dropping it on her desk. "The man we're trying to nab is Ian Stiles…your father's old partner."
"Det. Stiles? The guy they used to call 'Baby Stile'? I thought he moved to Boston years ago."
"'Baby Stile?'" Gus repeated, making a face. "What the hell kind of cop nickname is that?"
"Dude, you don't remember? He had a face like Erik Estrada and arms like Jean Claude Van-Damm. He was the youngest man on the force and was totally Ponch fromCHiPs."
Karen and Gus looked pointedly at him.
"He was my dad's partner. He...he had nice hair. I noticed, alright," Shawn said, looking away in slight embarrassment.
"None of that excuses the lameness that is 'Baby Stile," Gus said.
"Dude! It's a pun."
"Well, it's a bad one!"
"Gentlemen! Focus." Karen snapped her fingers and drew the bickering men's attention toward her. "Yes, Det. Stiles moved to Boston ten years ago, but he's back and in quite a bit of trouble."
"What exactly has he done?" Gus asked.
"As far as we can tell, he's accused of molesting and photographing hundreds of children over a period of twenty years."
"That's more than a 'bit of trouble,'" Gus said with a sneer.
"Twenty years ago he was still on the force," Shawn supplied quietly.
"Yes," Karen answered uneasily. "We don't know how he was able to keep his...'activities' so well hidden, but he's slipped up recently. Parents of a boy in Boston brought charges up against him. They settled, but authorities there thought the claims could have been legit. Unfortunately, they couldn't find any hard evidence against him."
"What do they expect you all to do?" Gus asked.
"Stiles skipped town before Boston authorities could regroup and moved back to Santa Barbara. We assume it's because he was hoping his connections with the Santa Barbara force would protect him." Karen raised a hand to her temple and rubbed it slowly. "The feds want us to use our relationship with Stiles to find something we can pin him with."
"Does my dad know about the case?" Shawn asked.
Karen lowered her hand. "No, he doesn't. Now listen, Mr. Spencer, your father and Stiles were partners for nearly eight years. They're close. If your father heard about our investigation, he'd do everything in his power to defend him."
"You think he'd compromise the case?"
"No," Karen said with a shake of her head. "But I don't want anyone to think we gave him the opportunity."
"What do you want us to do, Chief?" Gus asked.
"You and Mr. Guster are the only ones who know both the goings-on of the department and your father. We just want you to keep an eye on him and make sure he stays out of the way."
"What about the case?" Shawn asked.
Karen looked at him in confusion. "What about it?"
Shawn plastered a smile on his face and wrapped an arm around Gus' shoulders, pulling him close. "This is a big case. Lots of repercussions. You'll of course need all of your best men—and spirits— on the job. Gus and I would be happy to take this one on, Chief."
"Oh, no we won't," Gus said pulling away.
"Thank you, but no," Karen replied, talking over Gus. "I appreciate your offer, Mr. Spencer, but we have this taken care of."
"Chief, with all due respect, I think I can provide some insight into this case that you don't have."
"And what is that, Mr. Spencer?"
Shawn froze as he racked his mind for an acceptable answer. "Uh...movies. I can tell you what type of movies he likes."
"I think we know what type of movies he likes," Gus said, his lips curled in disgust.
Karen just smiled warmly at Shawn. "Mr. Spencer, I understand that this may put you in an awkward situation. If that's the case, just tell me and I'll give the job to someone else."
"No, it's not that, Chief. It's just—"
"Good. We have this case under control, Mr. Spencer. It's messy enough without bringing you and your ... powers into the mix."
Shawn released Gus and placed his hands behind his head. "My dad will learn about the investigation sooner or later," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "What'll you do then?"
Karen studied Shawn carefully before answering. "I'll deal with that when it happens. For now, I just need to know I have your support on this issue. Understood?"
"Understood," Gus said firmly.
Karen turned to face Shawn when he didn't immediately answer. "Understand, Mr. Spencer?"
Shawn gave her a quick grin. He may have understood, but he certainly didn't agree.
"Mr. Spencer? Am I clear?"
"Perfectly, Chief."
TBC ...
A/N: So I'm trying out my shorter posts/more frequent update theory that I mentioned at the end of "Love is Blind." Let's see how well it works out, eh? I'm sorry for the complete absence of Lassiter in this part. Oh, Exposition! You totally get in the way of my Shassie! Now, I have a pretty good outline of where I want the story to go, but have no idea how many parts that will take, so please hang with me.
Oh! And a really large disclaimer: I wasn't born until 1987, so I've never seen an episode of CHiPs in my life. Still, when I picture Det. Stiles, he looks like the young, goofy-looking one from CHiPs. So there you go.
Another large disclaimer: My knowledge surrounding the prosecution of child pornography cases is limited to one lecture I had in Internet Law 4720, which featured a guest speaker from my state's attorney's office. So, that is to say, my knowledge surrounding the prosecution of child pornography is pretty damn close to nil. Forgive me?
Reviewing is like an Internet hug and I love hugs! Thanks, dear readers.