It really was a nice office.

Set in warm tones and accented tastefully with neatly arranged soft chairs and couch, a short coffee table, and a well stocked book case; the room invited relaxation.

He still didn't want to go in.

It had only taken two visits to the other shrink for them to send him to a different office… five hours away.

His previous therapist had only shook his head in bafflement when he discovered that Shawn and his father were still on speaking terms. What was worse, Shawn had basically been forced to continue, with the threat that the Chief wouldn't give him any more cases until he did. She even worked it out so that the city would pay for his stay in temporary housing- five hours being a bit of a long drive each way. Even given that he'd be doing his sessions back to back, save for weekends, it was going to be a long two weeks.

He didn't even get a female therapist, either time. The fact that this guy came extremely well recommended did nothing to make up for that.

Squaring his jaw, he allowed the door to close behind him. As soon as the office was enclosed, all he could hear was a soft whooshing from the white noise machine on the floor. Without even trying, his eyes saw everything, giant picture windows, the potted plants, the collection of pictures including several of a teenage boy, obviously the man's son… hmm… now that was interesting…

"Why not come all the way in?"

The mild voice came from the man seated in the left of two chairs by the tall windows. Shawn smiled. "Nice digs! Really, I'm getting warm fuzzies just standing here!"

The therapist smiled. "Would you like to sit down? These chairs are quite comfortable, or so I've been told."

Shawn stuffed his hands in his pockets, striding across the room to drop in the chair. Wow, it was comfy! He might have get one like this for the office!

He bounced a little, testing the springs as he looked around some more. He noticed that the small objects on the desk were lined up perfectly… as were the nick-knacks on the top of the desk in the corner. Compulsive much?

The man across from him crossed his legs.

"You seem very interested in my office."

Shawn jerked his eyes back to the shrink guiltily.

Oops.

Clasping his hands together over his knees, he fixed his face in a loose smile. "Where did you get those throw pillows? My business partner keeps telling me we need to jazz up the waiting room… at our psychic detective agency." He said, exaggerating the last part slowly.

"I'll get you the name of my decorator. Now, why not tell me what brings you here?"

Damn, the last therapist he'd told that to had immediately asked him if he really thought he could talk to spirits. A few 'intuitive' observations later and the psychiatrist was left in complete befuddlement. Unfortunately, it backfired- and now he was stuck here.

Leaning back in his chair, he examined the man across from him. His blondish-grey hair was close-cropped and thinning at the top; the lines on his face placing him somewhere in his late forties. His sharp blue eyes showed intelligence and compassion, and his gaze never wavered from Shawn once.

Okay, so the guy was a challenge. No matter, he had a lot of practice with challenges. Hello, Henry Spencer anyone?

Rolling his head to crack his neck, Shawn copied the posture of the man across from him- an eye twitch the only hint there was any pain left in his side. They studied each other for about two minutes. Finally Shawn spoke. "So, what. Should I start with my childhood?"

"Do you want to talk about your childhood?"

Shawn frowned. "No."

The minute hand clicked down a few more lines. The white noise machine hummed softly. Shawn wondered if he could take this guy in a staring contest. He decided to try.

"Why not start by telling me about your friend Mr. Guster."

Shawn blinked.

Damn it!!

Jutting out his jaw, he decided Gus was a fairly safe topic… as long as he didn't mention Mexico.

He exhaled, trying to decide the best place to start. Well, logically, that would be the beginning he supposed. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, letting his back relax against the seat cushion, and sent his mind to the past. "Gus and I met when we were five. His family moved in down the block, right around the time I was turning six. My mom wanted to make sure his family felt welcome in the neighborhood, so she invited them to my birthday party. As it turned out, he was the only one that came. Dad hadn't made a lot of friends amongst his neighbors… feeling the need to pass out parking tickets like free samples of Tide." He shook his head ruefully. "My dad was a hero among the meter maids." Leaning his chin on his palm, Shawn examined the foliage outside the window, appreciating the carefully landscaped plaza filled with trees and an elegant waterfall. "Somehow, though, dad wasn't able to scare off Gus's parents."

The therapist shifted a little, draping his fingers over his knee. "So you could almost say you've been friends your whole lives."

Shawn smiled introspectively. "I suppose so. I almost don't remember what it was like before I met him." He chewed the tip of his thumb, furrowing his brow. "I can't imagine what it'd be like without him…"

The waterfall fell gently, splashing and trickling over the rocks. It was really quite soothing. He should think about getting a small waterfall for the office… he was sure Gus would appreciate it…

After a while, Shawn continued. "Gus was at my house almost every day growing up. We had so many overnights that it felt strange when he wasn't around. Dad basically started treating him like an extra son- taking him along for train… uh… campouts, fishing, whatever." Shawn scratched his head. "No matter what… I could always count on him."

His voice trailed away. With his memory, he was easily able to call up the days of his childhood like he was watching a made for TV movie. With just a little effort, he could even pull out finer details… like exactly how many times Gus swore when he lost to him at Battleship, or how long they'd sat in that tree when they'd been chased by old lady Wunderschmidt's basset hound.

Gus never really cared for dogs much after that.

When he thought about it, the most trouble he ever got in involved Gus by his side. He was pretty sure he'd have been a model child otherwise.

Dragging his mind back to the present, he studied his nails, noting that his cuticles were rough. He flexed his hands and draped them over the edge of his seat.

"When mom and dad split up, I spent about two weeks straight at Gus's. His dad had bought them a Nintendo, and we must have played Pitfall about four thousand times. Naturally we had to try that out for real… Gus claims that that his kidneys were never the same after that. But seriously, it was only ten feet- and it wasn't like there wasn't water at the bottom."

He chuckled, bringing up his knuckles to rest them against his cheek. "I also couldn't get sick without getting Gus sick too… usually on purpose. But really, he only had himself to blame. If he didn't want the flu he should have run faster. Besides, I owed him for giving me the chicken pox. He'll still say it was for my own good, saying he read that getting them at a younger age was better than waiting till you're older. And this was coming from an eight year old. You know, I really wasn't at all surprised that he became a pharmaceuticals salesman."

There was a short span of silence again. Shawn drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. He was lost in thought when the therapist spoke again.

"You mentioned earlier, that your father's relationship with his neighbors interfered with your birthday."

Shawn shrugged. "He had his priorities." Clasping his elbows tightly, he looked out the window again. Nodding at the greenery, he suddenly tilted his head. "What kind of trees are those anyhow? Gus is like this crazy, plant expert… which can come in handy on cases sometimes… but don't tell him I said that. Actually, you can't anyhow- patient privilege or whatever…"

"I can see this subject is uncomfortable for you. However, like you said, no one else will ever have to hear about it. Think of me as your personal sounding board."

Fingers drummed restlessly again. He started to chew his nails, but stopped himself immediately. No way was he gonna take up THAT habit. Instead, he jogged his leg up and down rapidly as he glanced at the clock again. Ten minutes. He could handle ten minutes…

The other man laced his fingers together.

"That's the second time you've looked at the clock. Listen, Shawn, I can't force you into saying anything you don't want to. I can't tell you what to talk about, or what you should even feel. I can tell you're a very private person, in spite of the persona you show to the world. You'd like to think you can brush this to the side and continue on just like before. And maybe you can. I know that there are many people who just… bottle away their hurts, their anxieties, and their frustrations… But by cutting off those parts… you almost always cut away parts that make you complete." He sat up, leaning forward intently. "Look, it's two weeks. You get through that, and you fulfill the basic requirements to get back to work. And if, in the process, you find something to talk about… I'll be here to listen."

The therapist leaned back and checked his watch. "There's about eight minutes before my next patient is scheduled to be here… we still have time if you want to tell me more about Gus, your father, or whatever else you'd like."

Shawn rocked his ankle back and forth. He didn't like sitting for so long without some kind of activity to distract him. Now, if there was a Gameboy in the room…

Hardly aware of it, he bit his thumbnail. The agitated part of him recognized what he'd ultimately need to discuss if he wanted to really finish these sessions. That part of just wanted to run through it, beginning to end, and just get it over with. The other part of him, the part that- irritatingly- spoke with his father's distinct inflection, insisted on patience.

And as much as he wanted to take the, sorta, easy way… he found himself listening to his father. Maybe he belonged in this office after all.

"Well, you survived your first visit."

Shawn looked up, startled. He hadn't realized how long he'd been musing to himself. Smiling lopsidedly, he nodded to the shrink. "I've got a high tolerance for unpleasant conversations."

Standing together, Shawn accepted the hand held out to him. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

The other man nodded, smiling gently. "I look forward to it."

0o0o0o0

Shawn rubbed his eyes as he stepped out into the waiting room. It was disorienting being in that office… like he was in a private little world, cut off from the rest of the universe. In addition to that, the shrink had a voice like the teacher from Ferris Bueller…

He frowned. And yet, despite his best efforts, he'd found himself talking like a girl at a high school sleepover. He lowered his brows. Did girls still have sleepovers in high school? He shook his head, yawning. At any rate, his very next stop needed to be the nearest coffee shop.

He was just opening the door leading to the hall when he heard voices approaching.

"…derstand why I had to change my schedule!"

"Look, we talked about this… it's a special situation. Besides, it's just for a couple of weeks… and then you'll get your old schedule back."

Two people rounded the corner ahead of him. The first was the man he'd heard complaining. He was only a little taller than Shawn, his hair dark, and tightly curled. He looked like he was around fifty, and he was twisting his hands in agitation. The other person was a woman… a very cute woman, her hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. He took a moment to appreciate her looks, noticing the way she held the other man's arm tightly. She seemed to almost be leading him along. About this time, they both looked up and saw Shawn in the doorway.

He smiled brightly, waving a hand. "Hi, Shawn Spencer. You know, I feel as though I've met you before…" He lowered his voice to a hush, staring at the woman. "Tell me, have you ever worked as an entertainer for Pacific Emerald Cruise Lines?"

The woman raised her brows, eyeing him skeptically. "Not that I recall… Let me guess, you were the Captain."

He grinned, rocking back on his heels. "Ooo, close. Actually, I was the Resident Aquatic Safety Supervisor."

"A lifeguard?"

He shrugged. "I guess… if you want to restrict yourself to layman's terms."

While they spoke, the other man seemed to be grinding his teeth in irritation. Finally he interrupted agitatedly. "What are you doing- we have a deadline to keep- This isn't social time!"

Shawn held up his hands. "Oh, hey… I'm sorry…" He blinked. "Oh right, you're the next patient…"

The man stared at him, his eyes suddenly livid.

"It's you!"

Shawn blinked, looking over his shoulder and back again. "I'm… I'm sorry?"

"It's you… you're the usurper!" Said the man angrily. Shawn half chuckled catching the look on the woman's face. She was rubbing her forehead.

"Oh come on… you think I stole your slot?" He asked, pressing his hands against his chest. The man clenched his hands.

"Usurper…" He said menacingly.

The woman grabbed his arm. "Mr. Monk, we really should get inside… come on, I'm sure Dr. Kroger wouldn't want you to be late." She turned to Shawn, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm sorry…"

He smiled. "No problem. Maybe next time we meet you'll tell me your name."

As she pushed through the door, she smiled in response. "Natalie… Natalie Teeger."

Her companion rolled his eyes. "Natalie, let's go! I'm supposed to talk about my dad today and I need a pre-session run-through."

The door closed slowly on its pneumonic hinge.

Shawn stood there a few seconds longer, staring at the door. Now what were the odds of that? Finally, shaking his head, he headed for the elevator.