Fics! It's Henry Spencer Day! I need an icon for Henry.
Two Henry Spencer fics, because I'm a loon.
The first one is a character drabble I wrote just for practice at getting his voice and working out backstory from some details in the canon.
It's rated PG and called .
Mending
Since I came back to California, I've been trying to mend things around the house. I left the house empty for so long and it suffered for it. I really only held on to the place so I could pass it on to my son, which was something of a slim chance considering he hadn't spoken much to me for years. Eventually, I came to see that that wasn't likely to happen. I came home to get the place back in shape so I could sell it. Let some other family get some use out of it. Maybe they'd be happy there.
Funny thing happened as I went through the place, giving it a good cleaning and making small repairs, I remembered that, Shawn and I, we'd been happy there, at least some of the time. He was this great kid- smart as a whip and curious about everything. Back then I had seen some real potential in him. But that was before everything with his mother went so sour and he'd been faced with being a teenager on top of his mother and me splitting up at the same time. The less said about that time the better.
Then one day, I looked up from repairing the gutter on the back of the house and saw the ocean like it was the first time all over again. Was it always so perfect, so inviting? I hadn't surfed since I'd moved. I'd actually avoided the beach like the plague when I'd lived in Florida, but there was no getting away from it here. See the house is just a stone's throw from a sweet little piece of beach with just the right kind of waves to soothe my soul. And, soothe they did. I got right down from that ladder, found my old board in the garage, found some wax that was still usable (imagine that) and waxed her up.
Not half an hour later I wiped out and it was like a kick in the pants. I didn't come home to sell the place- it was home. I came back to reclaim it and get back some of the life I lost along with the family I'd built in that house. I dried off and dug out my old phone book. Got back in touch with some of the guys I used to play poker with and started mending friendships that had suffered the same way the house had from all those years of neglect.
About a year or so later, who should come knocking at my door, but the kid. Hell of a thing to open the door and find him there. He looked good and he wanted something, but he still couldn't resist taking a couple of pokes at his old man about where we've been. I took him to lunch anyway. It had to have taken some balls to show up like that. Over lunch he spins this tale of how he's working with the department as a psychic. And the crazy thing is, he's actually got the skills for it. It's still early yet, little more than a month, but the kid is pulling it off, solving cases and making a difference the way I'd always hoped he would from when he was that whip-smart kid way back. But I'm still thinking that there's no way he's sticking with this any more than he stuck with the 57 other weird jobs he's done over the last ten years, which is not at all. I might be wrong, but I doubt it. I just hope when this all falls in, he'll still be okay.
And this one is for my 30_lies claim
Title: At His Word
Fandom: Psych
Subject: General Series
Theme(s): Blind Trust, #12
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.
Rating: PG
Table found here.
AN: Another Karen Vick fic, because the fact that she knows Henry Spencer from when he was on the job keeps sticking with me. I wonder what, if anything, TPTB will do with that relationship.
At His Word
It wasn't as if Karen didn't see what was going on, maybe. Maybe the younger Spencer was lying about his "gift" and maybe the older one had chosen to stand with him anyway, or maybe, improbable as it all was, it was true. The reality of it was that it just didn't matter because Shawn Spencer, "psychic", got results and Henry Spencer, well respected former member of the Santa Barbara Police Force, was backing him up.
There was no way Henry didn't know the truth. Karen had seen Henry read guilt off a suspect in moments, back when he was with the force. He had to know that his son was lying, if he actually was lying, that is. But, if he was lying and Henry knew it, then Henry (of all people) must think that the ends justified the means, think that Shawn lying to have an in with her department was worth the risk- and not just for Shawn or the Spencer family, but for the force and for the greater good of the city. And Karen couldn't see a flaw in that logic because since she's allowed Shawn to work cases, their solve rate has gone up and the press has gotten off her back (which is already carrying enough with the pregnancy, thank you very much).
So, she took Henry at his word, which meant taking Shawn at his word, no matter what that word was or what strange explanation was used to justify him being able to say it, she took Shawn's word. Granted, she couldn't look like she was taking it all on blind faith. She was the Chief of Police, she had to be hard on him or, at least, look that way.
The first one is a character drabble I wrote just for practice at getting his voice and working out backstory from some details in the canon.
It's rated PG and called .
Mending
Since I came back to California, I've been trying to mend things around the house. I left the house empty for so long and it suffered for it. I really only held on to the place so I could pass it on to my son, which was something of a slim chance considering he hadn't spoken much to me for years. Eventually, I came to see that that wasn't likely to happen. I came home to get the place back in shape so I could sell it. Let some other family get some use out of it. Maybe they'd be happy there.
Funny thing happened as I went through the place, giving it a good cleaning and making small repairs, I remembered that, Shawn and I, we'd been happy there, at least some of the time. He was this great kid- smart as a whip and curious about everything. Back then I had seen some real potential in him. But that was before everything with his mother went so sour and he'd been faced with being a teenager on top of his mother and me splitting up at the same time. The less said about that time the better.
Then one day, I looked up from repairing the gutter on the back of the house and saw the ocean like it was the first time all over again. Was it always so perfect, so inviting? I hadn't surfed since I'd moved. I'd actually avoided the beach like the plague when I'd lived in Florida, but there was no getting away from it here. See the house is just a stone's throw from a sweet little piece of beach with just the right kind of waves to soothe my soul. And, soothe they did. I got right down from that ladder, found my old board in the garage, found some wax that was still usable (imagine that) and waxed her up.
Not half an hour later I wiped out and it was like a kick in the pants. I didn't come home to sell the place- it was home. I came back to reclaim it and get back some of the life I lost along with the family I'd built in that house. I dried off and dug out my old phone book. Got back in touch with some of the guys I used to play poker with and started mending friendships that had suffered the same way the house had from all those years of neglect.
About a year or so later, who should come knocking at my door, but the kid. Hell of a thing to open the door and find him there. He looked good and he wanted something, but he still couldn't resist taking a couple of pokes at his old man about where we've been. I took him to lunch anyway. It had to have taken some balls to show up like that. Over lunch he spins this tale of how he's working with the department as a psychic. And the crazy thing is, he's actually got the skills for it. It's still early yet, little more than a month, but the kid is pulling it off, solving cases and making a difference the way I'd always hoped he would from when he was that whip-smart kid way back. But I'm still thinking that there's no way he's sticking with this any more than he stuck with the 57 other weird jobs he's done over the last ten years, which is not at all. I might be wrong, but I doubt it. I just hope when this all falls in, he'll still be okay.
And this one is for my 30_lies claim
Title: At His Word
Fandom: Psych
Subject: General Series
Theme(s): Blind Trust, #12
Disclaimer: I don't own Psych.
Rating: PG
Table found here.
AN: Another Karen Vick fic, because the fact that she knows Henry Spencer from when he was on the job keeps sticking with me. I wonder what, if anything, TPTB will do with that relationship.
At His Word
It wasn't as if Karen didn't see what was going on, maybe. Maybe the younger Spencer was lying about his "gift" and maybe the older one had chosen to stand with him anyway, or maybe, improbable as it all was, it was true. The reality of it was that it just didn't matter because Shawn Spencer, "psychic", got results and Henry Spencer, well respected former member of the Santa Barbara Police Force, was backing him up.
There was no way Henry didn't know the truth. Karen had seen Henry read guilt off a suspect in moments, back when he was with the force. He had to know that his son was lying, if he actually was lying, that is. But, if he was lying and Henry knew it, then Henry (of all people) must think that the ends justified the means, think that Shawn lying to have an in with her department was worth the risk- and not just for Shawn or the Spencer family, but for the force and for the greater good of the city. And Karen couldn't see a flaw in that logic because since she's allowed Shawn to work cases, their solve rate has gone up and the press has gotten off her back (which is already carrying enough with the pregnancy, thank you very much).
So, she took Henry at his word, which meant taking Shawn at his word, no matter what that word was or what strange explanation was used to justify him being able to say it, she took Shawn's word. Granted, she couldn't look like she was taking it all on blind faith. She was the Chief of Police, she had to be hard on him or, at least, look that way.