AN: Why am I starting a new one? I have Matchmaker to finish and Soul to continue. But the damn plot bunnies are vicious. This idea has been forming in my mind since reading Fatal Frame of Mind. Shawn told Gus that he figured Lassie was the murderer because it was always someone they had met before. It obviously wasn't Lassiter, but it still gave me an idea. So then I was like "What would have to happen for Lassie to become a murderer?"
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When Shawn woke up to an empty house, he knew it was too good to be true. He had seen the packed suitcase by the door, but suddenly he couldn't think of anything other than the object of his affections finally kissing him senseless.
That was a week ago.
And now, everything clicked. The sudden change in behavior, the mad hot sex full of possession, the disappearing without a word to anyone.
Shawn had been called to a crime scene. The estimated time of death was a week ago. Under normal circumstances, he would have just thought it was a random chance of happenstance. Under normal circumstances, there wouldn't have been a shrine dedicated to Shawn Spencer in the back room. Yes, the dead guy had been obsessed with Shawn. But it wasn't the of the "I want to have your baby" variety. That, Shawn would have been able to handle. This was of the "I'm going to kill you" variety.
As Shawn stared at the wall covered in pictures of him, some of them covered in red, everything clicked. Somehow, Lassiter had known about this. Somehow, Lassiter had found this poor crazy bastard and shot him through the head. Juliet had some of the forensics team looking for the bullet, but Shawn knew they wouldn't find it. They were looking for fingerprints. Shawn knew they wouldn't find any. His Lassie was too good. He didn't want them to know, so he left nothing. Except one thing. He left Shawn.
As Shawn stood in the dead guy's house, he replayed the images from that night a week ago. Lassiter had sent him a text, asking him to come over. Intrigued, Shawn had done so. He didn't know what to expect, and although getting pushed against the wall and getting kissed until breathing became a serious problem was high on his list, he never thought it would ever happen. Lassie hadn't talked. At least, nothing of major importance. Of course, Shawn didn't complain much because Lassie's mouth was busy doing other things. He didn't care that Lassie had been rough in his love as if he'd never get the chance again, because as far as Shawn was concerned, that moment was better than all the pineapples in the world.
And when Shawn was on the edge of blissful sleep, Lassiter had whispered, "I did it for you."
At the time, Shawn hadn't registered it. But now, as he stood there, looking at that shrine, he knew.
Gus was looking at him, worry written on his face. Shawn glanced at his best friend, and in a harsh voice he said, "Lassie killed him."
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AN: Do you want more?