Well, took me long enough.. can't believe it's been a year and half! I am so horrible author. If I were professional writer I would die from starvation. Don't know if this short chapter is worth the waiting, but hell.. I'm trying right?
Oh, and for those ho remember I'm What Now? update fort that is in progress.

Miracle. It had to be miracle. Two weeks. Two weeks of nothing that would disturb him. No one asked him what happened to him. No one came to finish his statement. They just left him be. When he had visitors, they were just making small talk and jokes. Sometimes his father, sometimes Gus, Buzz or some other cop. Minus Lassie. And Jules. Well, he couldn't exactly blame her, could he? After all, he always hurt her. So he settled with the others. And it was all normal. They didn't look at him with pity, not his father, not Gus, not anyone. So at least they didn't know. He was sure of it. But still, they acted like nothing happened. No, it wasn't miracle. It was suspicious. Extremely suspicious. They were planning something. They had to. Especially Lassie. I'll be back, he said. But he didn't come back. Weird. Really weird. If he could think properly, he would figure it out. He knew he would. But no. No, he had to have his head broken.

Fortunately, he convinced one of the many cops that visited him to bring him those crime scene photos. Which was just another proof of his damaged mind. Why did he agree with Lassie's interrogation in the first place? He just could get the information he needed in some roundabout way, like always. But since then he became so weak, so broken, so stupid. He endured that interrogation completely unnecessarily and now, Lassie had the information about his past, past he worked so hard to keep hidden. Even from Gus. Yes, from his father too, of course, but that's a given. Mr. IHaveNoAbilityToCryJustToYellAtMySonForNoGoodReason would never forgive him for it. Probably, he would disown him. Not that it mattered to him that much, he can live without a house full of dreadful childhood memories and elderly fishing rod. But that disgusting look mixed with pity in his eyes – he wouldn't be able to forget that. Not ever. So he vouched his father would never ever found out. And he won't. Sure, Lassie knew – but he respected law more than anything, so he wouldn't tell anything before the trial. And the trial would never come. That much Shawn knew for certain.

So now he was trying to concentrate on the crime scene photos. With little success. He thought, maybe if he kept himself busy, his mind would clear, he would forget anything happened once again and then, then he would be able to play that happy goofy pineapple-loving psychic that everyone seemed to know and love.

But no such luck. His mind was still broken. His thought were all about how he hates pineapple (and that had to be resolved soon – who hates pineapple?!), why is bison so aggressive animal, why would he abandon white innocent rabbit and – Where the hell is Lassie?! Oh, and green rabbit from videogame who just wouldn't leave didn't help either.

He took a deep breath and looked at the photos once again. Interestingly enough, it was strange, just like Vick said. It was strange even for him. And that's saying something. Entire interior looked normal. Too normal. More like boring. Very boring. Well it would be. But now, on the wall was painted smiley face with something that Shawn doubted was red paint. It reminded him of Red John smiley face with one distinction. In the place where Red John would just painted the eyes with blood, this smiley face had the real ones, cut out from the body, attached to the wall, blood running down the wall. It looked like it was crying. But the mouth still smiled. With another little distinction. There was attached tongue. As in, real life tongue, bloody and all. This smiley face was crying and sticking out its tongue. Either this was coincidence and he didn't know Red John's work, or he did and he was mocking him. And that would be just stupid. Who would mock Red John? No one in their right minds. If he would be real – and Shawn had sometimes his doubts – this killer would be dead like five seconds after the fact. Of course, it could be just coincidence and Shawn was just projecting his desire to meet Simon Baker who would confess he's Patrick Jane who just plays Simon Baker.

Strangely, this Red John-mocking-smiley face wasn't what was so strange in this crime scene. No, if he forgot about Red John, it wasn't strange. It was just plain gross. Of course, cops thought this was strange, but something else caught Shawn's attention. It was on the edge of frame, because no one would deem it important enough to take a photo, but Shawn knew better. He would recognize it anywhere. Small white rabbit figurine. Coincidence, right? Many people had rabbits as pets. Many of them also collected rabbit figurines. This had to be one of them. Right. It couldn't be that figurine. The only one in this design with yellow-green ribbon. That one he made himself in his not so long career in porcelain factory and gave it to his friend. So, it couldn't be the same one. Because that would mean He had something to do with this crime scene. And if he thought about it, that wasn't strange, no. That was creepy. And on top of that, Shawn would have to come clean. He would have to tell them. Tell more. And more. Tell them everything.

Shawn looked up from the photos and glanced to the corner of the room. Jazz sat there, looking at him with triumph in his eyes and wicked smile. He probably thought he won. As the rabbit was opening his mouth, Shawn shut the file with photos and snapped at him.

"Oh, shut up."

Jazz did shut up, but his disturbing smile only widened. Shawn narrowed his eyes and was preparing for a fight, when sudden voice interrupted.

"Shawn." the voice said. It was said with such a sweetness it chilled him to the bones. It can't be. Shawn was frozen to the spot because that just wasn't possible. He looked at Jazz. Or, more specifically, where Jazz was just a second ago. He disappeared. Where did he go? Why would he leave? Why would he abandon me? Why?!

"Look at me." the voice commanded. Panic running through his entire body, he obeyed. He looked in those confusing eyes. He saw nothing but kindness and love in them and yet.. this man hurt him the worst way imaginable. He then saw His face, His symmetric face with smooth features accompanied with huge smile. That smile was so wrong like it belonged to another person. His face was all kindness and affection and love, but his smile – wicked, sadistic, crazy – tore down all of the illusion. This wasn't nice man. And he knew it. He knew the moment he saw him smile. But those eyes! Why it had to be so confusing? He was like rotten pineapple. So beautiful on the first look, but when you cut deeper.. Bleh. His thoughts were stopped by his shock when he felt touch on his groin. He didn't move, his protest "No.." was barely audible. But Pineapple heard him. He smiled even more and leaned unto him, not stopping with moves of His hand. Shawn trembled, but didn't dare to move. Pineapple whispered to his ear: "Soon you'll say 'yes, yes', my dear."

Shawn's eyes widened at that. He would never, never! But Pineapple was skilled. It could be so painless and pleasant, when He wanted it to be. And now He wanted. And there was no pain. Just pleasure of his body. Oh my god, I really do enjoy it! Shawn viciously shook his head at this. No. It's just my body. My body. My body. I don't like it. I don't. But then he looked into His eyes, those loving eyes and all previous thoughts were thrown out of window. Shawn thought, maybe he's not that bad. Deep down, he liked it. He liked it a lot. The pleasure it gave him was indescribable. Why wouldn't he give in? So he enjoyed himself. He looked in those beautiful eyes as the hand was moving more and more quickly. He lost himself completely and mumbled "Oh god, yes.." and Pineapple smiled. And that smiled wasn't anymore wicked and evil. It was loving, like the rest of His face. Maybe this was it. Maybe he was supposed to enjoy it, really enjoy it and then it would be painless and even pleasant. Yes, that had to be it. The hand was moving faster and faster and he was closing in. It felt absolutely amazing. He was wondering, if he would be willing participant, mind and body, from the beginning, maybe it wouldn't hurt at all. Because this, this was absolutely… Before he could yell in pleasure, he startled jumped from his lying position and stared at the stain on his blanket. He was breathing rapidly, not quite apprehending what the hell was happening. There was no one touching his groin. When he looked outside, it looked like it was early morning, not middle of the day. And in the corner, there was Jazz, looking at him with tears in his eyes. It took him whole minute, before he finally got it.

"Oh my god. I just had erotic dream about my rapist." he said out loud. He didn't understand. This was supposed to happen in Bunny Land. It was supposed to happen to Shazz. Not here. Not to him. It felt too real. He was too shocked to care that he said that word, too shocked to notice there was someone else in the room. When that voice sounded, it almost gave him heart attack.

"Finally, you said it. Ready to talk now?" intruder said. Shawn looked at him with panic in his eyes. There he was, All Mighty Lassie, casually sitting in the chair, notepad in his hand, staring at him like his prey. And the worst of it was that micro-smirk of his. Too small to call him on it, too big to not notice.

Well.. crap.