A/N: I have found a new love... that of the one-shot. I've decided to just make a story 'tab' of one-shots. My dear buddy demonbunny7 has been happy enough to give me 'prompts' and try to stump me. To save room, I'm just going to post them here in this little 'story'. If anyone else would like to give some prompts, that would be ok too. I get bored at night and these keep me busy.. i could be cleaning, but who wants that? I hope this isn't booed or jeered. I hope people like these. Some will be one word prompts. Some will be situational prompts... and some (like today's) will be 3 random words thrown together to try to stump me. Some will be funny, and some will be dramatic.... and some will probably just be stupid. All mistakes are mine... I own them *semi* proudly.

Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, I'd be making money. Since I don't, I'm not. Nor do I own the Disney Princesses.

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Chapter Prompts: Mud pies, astronaut, and unicorns

Mud Pies

"Daddy, when you were my age, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

He laughed, amused by his little girl. She was seven, the big number seven, and she was intrigued by everything. She asked thousands of questions and knew straight away if the answer wasn't entirely the truth. He hoped she'd been blessed with his gift of observation. Her looks she'd gotten from her mother. Long brown hair. Sun kissed cheeks. Light green eyes. It was like she was her mother's clone. Nothing of him at all... except for her 'psychic ablilities'. That he was proud of.

He settled down on her bed and gently rubbed a stray hair away from her forehead. He pulled her Disney Princess comforter higher on her chest and made sure the edges were flat. With his work, he didn't get to tuck her in most nights. He was usually off scamming-- helping some rich person or a performing a show for couple hundred. In a week would be his first television appearance. He'd been understandably excited and as effect was working long hours to prepare. It wasn't until his wife had stopped and reminded him that he hadn't seen his daughter in foru days that he decided to cut the night short and spend time with her. Afterwards, he had plans on spending time with the misses.

"What did I want to be when I grew up?" he repeated her question contemplatively. "Well, there was a time when I wanted to be an astronaut."

"An astronaut? You?" she answered amused as she hugged her old stuffed purple unicorn tightly and twirling her fingers around its long pink tail.

"Yes, me." he laughed. "Why? You don't see me as a spaceman?"

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"Oh really? Then what do you think I should have been?"

She studied him closely, finally saying, "An actor. You would have made a good actor."

That was his girl. As far as he knew, she knew nothing about his 'psychic abilities' or performances. If anyone had said anything to her about them at school, she hadn't let on. He was an actor of sorts. She was right about that. Only he was the best kind of actor.... the kind that no one knew was acting. "An actor? Hmm... interesting." he paused, thinking, then asked. "Ok missy, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

She thought a minute, clearly weighing her options as any seven year old would do and finally said, "I want to be a chef."

He answer surprised him. "A chef? Can you cook?"

She faked being taken aback. "Daddy?!? Of course I can cook. Have you never tasted my mud pies?"

"Sorry, I haven't." he chuckled. "You'll have to make them for me sometime."

She beamed brightly. She never got to spend much time with her father and any time he promised to was a big deal for her. "Ok, when?"

"Ummm.." he hated making a promise he couldn't keep. He racked his brain trying to remember when he was free next. The tv show taping was a week away. The days leading to it was prep and morning show interviews. The next day he had free was.....

"Jane. Jane." Teresa Lisbon shook the consultant on the arm, trying to wake him from his daydream like trance. "You ok?" she asked when he finally roused up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." he sat up from his brown leather couch, five years past his conversation with his daughter.

She started to say "Hey be careful with that thinking thing. You might hurt yourself." but seeing the distant and distraught look in his eyes she asked, "Is something wrong?" instead.

He wanted to laugh. Yes there was something wrong. Something very wrong. He wanted to confide in Lisbon. He wanted to tell her that he'd promised his daughter that he'd be home to play with her two days after his big, huge, important TV show. He wanted to tell her that he was home that night as promised, but his daughter wasn't. He wanted to scream and yell and beat the ground telling her that he'd spent that night outside of his house with her stuffed unicorn trying to make mud pies like she would have made if she hadn't been dead.

He wanted to tell her all of that, but knew if he did he'd have to go into detail about how he'd been found by a nosy neighbor outside his house... and that what he was doing worried the neighbor and the authorities so badly that he had ended up in a mental institution.

He wanted tell her that, but instead smiled. "Come on." he said, standing, taking her arm, and leading her away.

"Where are we going?"

"I want dessert. Lets get a slice of pie."

"Pie? Jane, what's gotten into you?"

He didn't answer, just kept leading her away. He knew he could either dwell on the horrible thing that Red John had done to his daughter, or he could focus on the good times.. on her smile, on her laugh, on the way she said wanted to be a chief and make pies for him. He wanted to feel closer to her and this was the only way he knew how to do it.