1996, Santa Barbara, California

Eighteen-year-old Shawn Spencer scaled the mountain with the utmost concentration. Hunched forward in a semi-crouch position, he steadied his footing carefully and pulled himself upward, yet another step toward the summit. Overhead the sun shone down on his exposed skin as sweat dripped down his face and Shawn cursed the immense heat. Stopping, only shortly, Shawn lifted a hand cautiously and flicked a wrist over his brow to rid the perspiration from his eyes. Seconds later, he was on the move again.

The climb, for the most part, had been silent and uneventful. Of course, that was to be expected considering he’d been climbing up this particular mountain since the age of eight, when he learnt how to successfully leave and return without anybody figuring out what he had been up to. He’d brought Gus up once when they first met but, after a rock to the head, Gus cursed the mountain out of his memory and refused to come whenever Shawn offered. For once, Shawn decided not to force the idea and settled with the mountain as his own sanctuary. It was a place where he could go when something had happened that he couldn’t deal with or when his parents were in a nasty argument and he didn’t want to hear.

Climbing the mountain and reaching the summit contradicted with Shawn’s whole lifestyle, really. While Shawn felt like he lived in the moment and let things slide off him with a silly grin or a nasty joke, climbing the mountain was different. Climbing the mountain was to go to a place where he could just breathe and take life in for all that it was worth. There, without people around, he could let go of emotions he didn’t want other people to think he had.

Hours upon end were spent up the mountain and, sometimes, when Shawn would come down and go home, he was disappointed that nobody noticed his disappearance. Nobody, that is, except Gus. Gus didn’t tell anybody though; because he knew when Shawn disappeared it was because he didn’t want to be found. If it was for more than a day, however, he sure as heck would’ve said something. Shawn never stayed too long though and usually the climb only took about 15 minutes.

Grunting in exasperation, pushing upward with arm and leg strength he never knew he possessed, Shawn took two long steps and was soon sprawled out on his back, at the top of the summit in a small clearing, staring up into the clear blue sky. He grasped the small water bottle he had and gulped the liquid greedily before he pulled himself up, standing. The clearing was grassy at the summit and was surrounded by trees and bushes that were as green as if they had just sprouted up from the ground. At the ledge, looking out, you could see the Santa Barbara coastline and half the town and, when Shawn brought up binoculars, he could spot his house off in the distance.

Sitting in the middle of the grassy area, with his hands spread out behind him to prop his lanky body up as his legs crossed in front of him, Shawn sucked in a deep breath of the mountain air and sighed contently.

Minutes ago he had told his parents he had gone to a graduation party and wouldn’t be home until midnight, if he didn’t decide to stay the night at Gus’s house. He then told Gus to just making something up if his parents called, which was actually doubtful. His mother was too engrossed in the culinary special on the television in the living room to really listen and his father was out working anyway.

Coming to the mountain today was a time to think. Shawn knew that in just two weeks he’d be an official graduate and he knew he didn’t have any set plans for the future. He’d actually thought about going into the academy, but…he didn’t know… Working for the police, catching criminals and murderers-it all seemed exhilarating, sure, but was that what he really wanted? And could he actually do it? Sure! ...Well, maybe. All he really had to his name was Spencer and it only linked him to his father. Did he really want that link?

Then, of course, there was his bike. The bike he worked and bled for. The bike he actually earned from solid labor and effort. It had always been in Shawn’s mind to just take off, not necessarily “run away” but leave. “Freedom of the open road…” as people often said in the movies.

Yup. That was Shawn: Just moving, moving, moving…

Falling backward, gently, Shawn linked his hands behind his head and lay down in the soft grass. The grass was wet from the left over storm from the night before, but Shawn didn’t mind, that just meant a nice cooling spot from the sun. Before he realized what was happening, Shawn slowly drifted off into a deep slumber….

Stomp!

Bolting upright, Shawn’s eyes flew open as his head swiveled around the small clearing. Heart racing a mile a minute, listening to the cracking of leaves and branches, Shawn pulled his watch up to his face and pressed the button on the side to turn on the tiny blue light. 11:24 p.m., that’s odd, he’d been asleep for two hours.

Crack… Crack… Crack…

Shawn jumped. Nobody came to this clearing. Mind running through various reasons, another crack of a twig to his left sent Shawn to his feet and running, silently, to hide in the nearest bush. Staying low, just like his father taught him on stakeouts, Shawn peered between the leaves and waited. He had to ground himself as another crack sounded and remained still as the toe of a brown boot entered his keen vision. About eight feet in front of him, fighting through the undergrowth, a man stumbled into the clearing.

He had a distinct five o’clock shadow and shaggy brown hair that nearly covered brown eyes. His shirt, a light flannel, was covered in some sort of dark substance that Shawn couldn’t make out in the dark and his blue jeans were torn at the knees. Looking closer, Shawn saw that the man’s fingers and hands were cut roughly: Probably the first time climbing, Shawn deducted reasonably. A gleam of silver objects shining from the man’s pocket caught his eye–

“FREEZE!”

The shaggy man in front of Shawn whipped around as a distinct, blue uniformed man appeared out of the undergrowth.

Oh, damn it…

Shawn’s eyes screwed shut for a short moment and when he opened them, hoping the image in front of him was different, his heart sank as the same police stood there in the clearing: Henry Spencer, Shawn’s father. Shawn sank further back into the bush in a desperate attempt to hide himself.

What is he doing here, of all places? Shawn asked himself. And who the heck is that guy?

Henry’s right hand stood steady above his holster as his left shone a flashlight into the shaggy man’s face. It was then, in that little bit of light, that Shawn noticed the darkened spot on the man’s shirt was blood. Shawn’s breath hitched in his throat and a small gasp emitted from his mouth. Surely he would’ve been caught right then and there if Henry hadn’t started to yell.

“Hands up!” he shouted, a sort of venom in his voice Shawn wished would never be aimed at him.

The shaggy man froze.

“Come on,” Shawn whispered as if it was a mantra. “Come on… Come on… Come on… Come on…!”

“Hands up!”

Slowly, too slowly for Shawn’s own liking, the shaggy man’s hands went up. Henry braced himself for anything, but it was Shawn, behind the man, that saw, with his keen observation skills, what was in the shaggy man’s back pocket. And, as the shaggy man continued to raise his hands, it was Shawn who noticed the man’s left hand swing deftly behind and pull it out.

Shawn stopped breathing.

The shaggy man whipped the gun out and pointed it; he pointed it right at Shawn’s father.

Henry remained calm, but did not move.

“Drop it! Drop it!” The shaggy man’s head jerked to the flashlight, his gun never faltering in a steady grip.

Shawn never blinked. He willed his father to just obey.

The flashlight dropped. It rolled across the clearing until stopping in the grass, pointing back at Henry’s feet.

“Good… Good…” the shaggy man said, manically. He stepped toward Henry and reached his free hand out to grab the gun from Henry’s holster before throwing it across the clearing toward the flashlight. He stepped back. “All right, all right…” He sighed. “Okay.”

“Listen, Mr.–“

“Quiet,” the shaggy man whispered.

“If we can work this out then–”

“Quiet…”

Dad, Shawn’s eyes widened just stop!

Henry didn’t. “If you kill me then the system will treat you–“

“SHUT UP!” Brown eyes flashed. The gun jerked in a shaky hand. “JUST, STOP TALKING!!!”

Henry shut up.

“I don’t need the justice system,” the shaggy man whispered, eyes brightening at whatever idiotic idea he was cooking up in his tiny brain. “You’re alone. Nobody saw me. Nobody saw you. You’re the only witness and as long as that happens, I’ll go to jail.” The man laughed, smiling wide. “BUT, that means if you were to be gone then nobody would know. I could go free…” The gun cocked. “As long as you’re dead–”

Everything moved in slow motion in that single second of that shaggy man cocking his gun. Shawn watched it all with wide eyes as the shaggy man straightened his spine and raised the gun, silent and deadly. The shaggy man’s dirty, bloody finger lifted toward the trigger and pressed down halfway and…and…

And Shawn jumped.

It was something that could’ve been in a movie scene. Leaves and twigs flying through the night air, the gun’s metal body shining in the moonlight, a yell rivaling that of a deadly animal as Shawn pushed himself from the bush and landed right on top of the shaggy man’s back in a piggyback-style position. Shawn yelled and yelled as his hands wrapped around the man’s throat and squeezed tight as he bucked to-and-fro.

BANG!

Shawn screamed as the shaggy man’s gun went off. He was finally tossed off the man’s back as a hard-boned shoulder somehow managed to pierce itself into his stomach. Shawn fell limp and his grip slackened as he slipped down and lay sprawled on his back in the grassy clearing. Stars, from the dizziness or the sparkling silver above, Shawn wasn’t sure, danced around his head.

Oh, jeezus–

The shaggy man jumped this time. His dirty, nasty hands worked their way around Shawn’s throat and he squeezed stronger than anything Shawn had ever felt. Colors appeared before his eyes and everything went hazy as he struggled to breathe. Shawn’s legs kicked but the shaggy man was sitting on his knees, keeping him pinned. Nevertheless, Shawn swung his now-weak limbs up in the air and felt himself connecting with flesh, but it wasn’t strong enough to do any damage.

Crack!

Whipping, the shaggy man’s head split open and blood dripped down, staining Shawn’s shirt. His grip never faltered until–

BANG!

Silence.

And then…

“Uh…”

The shaggy man gasped. The grip faltered. He fell right onto Shawn.

Shawn’s eyes widened as he kicked his legs wildly and rolled himself onto his side, pushing the literally dead weight off of him. He struggled with his breathing then, making noise like a flopping fish, as he curled himself up into a tight ball. A hand landed on his shoulder and Shawn jumped frightfully, whimpering.

“Shawn…”

Shawn gasped, wheezing. He almost forgot the reason he jumped onto the man: His father.

A light shone onto his face and Shawn caught the eyes of his father. His cheeks flushed red, now strikingly more evident because his face had grown so pale, and his eyes widened.

“Shawn,” Henry said, whispering comfortingly. “Shawn, breathe…”

“I was… I was– I didn’t follow… Climbed… I climbed and–“ Shawn sucked in a deep breath. “The gun… You and the gun–coulda got shot and– I had ta’…got shot…“ Shawn choked. His eyes watered but tears refused to fall. “Dad–”

“Shawn, stop.”

Shawn stopped.

Henry grasped his son’s shoulders and rolled him carefully over onto his back, slowly sliding in beneath him so Shawn could lie against his chest. He took exaggerated breaths. “Breathe, Shawn. Just breathe with me…”

Shawn shuddered.

“I hate when you come to this stupid mountain…” Henry said offhandedly. “You always think I don’t know, huh, kiddo?”

I thought… Shawn’s eyes widened. I thought he didn’t…notice…

Shawn’s eyes squeezed shut. He continued to gasp, struggling to breathe and struggling not to cry. He tilted his head to the side and buried his face against his father’s chest.

Henry rubbed his hands up and down Shawn’s shivering form and pulled him further into his comforting arms. “Breathe, kid. It’s all over. Just breathe. It’s all over… Just breathe…”

Shawn breathed.