Shawn fiddled anxiously with a Rubix cube. He'd gone over the files twenty times since his release, had talked with a sketch artist to give them a description of the man 'Rodger' who had run the smoothie stand.

The files had been of no help. And the description wasn't useful to the police until they could find something to match it against. He hurled the Rubix cube across the Psych office.

"That isn't going to help Shawn," Gus said calmly, from his desk.

Shawn spun to his friend to retort, but bit his lip. He wouldn't give Yin that satisfaction of causing in-fighting. Yin had gotten enough laughs at his expense today. And all month. Instead he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sank deeper into his chair.

"I know Gus, I know. I just," he ran his hand over his temple, feeling the bandage against his skin. Punching the metal stand hadn't been his brightest idea. In fact, in light of what had happened, he wasn't inclined to think much of what he'd done lately had been too bright.

The examination of Ernie's had revealed a fairly simple set up. The smoothie machine was set up similar to any fountain drink machine at a restaurant. Attached to the tab that provide normal pineapple smoothies was an even smaller lever. Pulling that, from the angel of the customer, looked no different from pulling the lever for a normal pineapple smoothie. But the liquid inside the hidden compartment had been laced with the drug found in his system. Shawn shivered. It had allowed Yin to serve Gus normal smoothies and only the altered ones to him.

Adding insult to drugging, they'd paid for those smoothies. Whatever Yin had planned they had probably inadvertently funded.

Shawn felt a tightness in his chest and he swallowed hard. He could barely breathe. This was too much. Yin was too good for him. He'd already won. Raking his hands through his hair Shawn gasped out a jagged breathe. He was going to lose. He couldn't do this. His eyes darted surreptitiously to his motorcycle helmet as Gus pretended to casually surf the internet.

"I'm hungry," Shawn declared finally.

The relief Gus felt was palpable. Shawn hadn't wanted to eat all day. "What do you want?"

"Anything that doesn't involve pineapple," Shawn muttered.

Gus frowned. As much has he understood where his best friend was coming from, it was still strange to hear his friend avoid his favorite fruit.

"Jerk Chicken?" Gus offered, reaching for his jacket and keys.

Shawn grinned. "Yeah, that'll be good. You go pick it up. I'm going to look through this file again."

Gus started to make a noise of protest, but it died quickly. They both knew he wouldn't find anything new. But if Shawn needed to go over the file again, for whatever peace of mind it could offer, Gus wasn't going to stop him. With a nod Gus left, locking the door behind him.

Shawn shot to his feet instantly. He had to get out of here. Not forever…probably. But right now? He couldn't be here. Shawn ran his hand over his face, resisting the urge to scream. Nothing felt safe. Yin could be anywhere. He had half a mind to check the office for bugs. Shawn's eyes twitched nervously over the office. Was anything out of place? Had Yin been in here? He shivered. There was no way he was going back to his apartment tonight. Not that it mattered really. Shawn knew he would be sleeping with one eye open until they caught Yin. A giggle burst from his throat suddenly; he probably wasn't going to sleep at all until they caught him.

As Shawn reached for his jacket the room began to spin. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply, trying to calm the overwhelming panic that was threatening to erupt from his chest. Nothing was safe. Yin had shattered every illusion of safety he had ever had today. His injured hand trembled and he tightened it around the scruff of his jacket. Shawn closed his eyes again, willing the panic to recede, to give him back his ability to breathe.

He moved to grab his keys, pausing as his fingers grazed across the side of his helmet. He felt another not entirely sane giggle burst in his chest. How safe was his helmet really? How much protection could it really offer him? Shawn shook his head slightly. Safety, of any sort, felt like a joke right now.

Shawn spun around, keys and jacket in hand and froze.

"Jules," his voice came out weakly, barely able to meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she shrugged, "You still keep the spare key in the fake pineapple on the stoop and I just..."

Juliet cocked her head to one side as she took in his appearance; keys and jacket in hand, eyes low, roaming over the floor instead of meeting hers.

She felt a hollow ache in her chest, and wished she had words that could help him with what he was going through. After what Yin had done to her last year there hadn't been anyone with the words to make her feel better-or even just safe. The therapists, Carlton, Chief, her parents, no one had known what to say. And it wouldn't have mattered anyway because for a long time she hadn't been able to hear any of it. Fear had been the only constant for months-and even now it continued to linger, as she knew it would until they caught that son of a bitch. Shawn had been the only one able to get through to her.

'Yin came after me too,' when nothing else had worked, it had been him who managed to pull her back to the real world; still shaken, less innocent and naive, but alive and functioning again none the less. Shawn was the only other person who really knew what Yin could do, how he could make you feel. And somehow, knowing that, that Shawn felt what she felt, and that he had been able to persevere despite it, had given her the strength she had needed to do the same.

But right now, she wasn't sure there was anything she could say to help him. She fought against a lump growing in her throat, "Shawn, what are you doing?" her voice still came out little more than a whisper.

Shawn's eyes flitted from the keys in his hands to her eyes. This was about as caught red-handed as it got-barring the time back in '86 when his father had literally caught him and Gus with red paint on their hands in their attempt to reenact a few choice movie death scenes.

"I just," he paused, determined to keep his voice even, and licked his lips, "I can't be…here. Right now," he looked at her almost pleadingly, hoping she would understand. And she did understand; she had contemplated a transfer back to Miami, back to her family, after her encounter with Yin last year more times than she cared to admit.

Feeling a knot grow in her stomach Juliet nodded sympathetically, "Do you want me to take you somewhere? Your Dads?" she offered, watching him shake his head at every word; the knot in her stomach grew.

The first time they had played, Yang had nearly beaten him mentally. Gus had been the only one able to talk Shawn back into the game. Feeling her eyes start to sting she bit her lip. But Gus wasn't here right now, and Shawn looked readier than ever to run and never look back.

"No Jules, I just, I need to get out," his laugh was sharp, almost shrill and completely devoid of humor, "Feel the wind in my face, fresh air…" he waved his hand nonchalantly even though neither of them believed the carefree nature of the gesture.

"Shawn do you really think you should be alone right now?" Juliet whispered, hugging her arms tightly around herself.

Shawn paused, drawing in a ragged breathe. He felt alone now. He had felt alone with Gus in the office, he had felt alone at the police station while he had filed his report, while his dad had bandaged the bruises and cuts on his hand. There was him and there was Yin, and until this was over, everybody else was just decoration. He couldn't focus on anything else, and it was driving him insane, like four walls were slowly closing in on him; only it wasn't walls, it was Yin, surrounding and suffocating him. Yin wasn't just winning, he was decimating the opposition.

Shawn wanted to feel something-anything-else. He needed to feel free again. And his bike was and always had been the only way he'd been able to do that. Shawn let out a breath; just the thought of the freedom it offered seemed to ease the suffocating feeling in his chest.

Shawn's silence was eating away at her, and Juliet felt the warning sting of tears in her eyes again, "Shawn?" her voice cracked.

His gaze snapped to her sharply, "Jules, I just need to get out for a little while," he offered apologetically, brushing past her towards the door.

She spun with him, grabbing his arm. Shawn tensed and his eyes darted down to their contact.

Juliet took a deep breath, locking her gaze to his. He had nearly abandoned the game Yang had started two years ago, and now he wanted to get on his bike and leave? "Shawn, please," she whispered, not sure how to ask him to stay when she had nothing to offer, no promises that would seem anything other than hollow given what he had been through.

His eyebrows shot up as he seemed to realize her fear. Suddenly he was turned fully, his back to the door, staring at her intently. His free hand came up gently to cup her face, the cold metal of the keys pressed lightly against her skin. Shawn stared straight at her, "I'm coming back Jules," he promised, his voice heavy but firm.

Unable to find her voice Juliet just nodded. She believed him, trusted him. Letting go of his hand slowly, she took a step back and watched him through the window as he started the engine on his bike, shooting off like lightning into the dark.

Later:

Shawn grinned as he felt the wind in his face, running through his hair. On the clear stretch of empty road, he allowed his eyes to close and he inhaled deeply. For the first time all day, he felt like he could breathe. He could go anywhere, do anything and nobody could stop him; nobody was watching.

The headlights of his bike flashed across the sign that marked his destination and he killed the engine. Standing, he straddled his bike as he starred at the words on the sign in front of him. 'Now Leaving Santa Barbara.' There was a part of him that was tempted to. He couldn't deny that. The twelve year old boy inside of him was screaming to run and be free, as was the eighteen year old one who had done just that. But he wasn't twelve or eighteen anymore. And neither the twelve year old him or the eighteen year old him had had Psych; had had a purpose. Or Jules.

Shawn knew he couldn't do that do her. She deserved justice, closure, for what had happened to her. And so did he. And despite the voices in his head screaming for him to take his freedom and make a break for it, they were easily quelled. He wouldn't abandon those he cared about, not with something like this looming over their heads. But it was nice to know that the option was still there.

Shawn smiled. This trip had done exactly what he'd hoped it would. Feeling a new sense of serenity Shawn kicked the engine back to life and grinned as he headed back towards the Psych office. Once he was back he'd give Jules a call, let her know he was ok; she hadn't seemed completely reassured he would return when he'd left.

Twenty minutes later a van merged onto the highway behind him. It flashed its bights on, blinding his mirrors. Shawn felt a nervous churning in his gut. As a motorcycle driver, he had developed a certain level of wariness around larger vehicles. A wariness that had only increased after he'd been run off the road in the Brandon Vu Spelling Bee case five years ago.

He was broken from his musing by the sound of the vans engine accelerating; the large vehicle surged forward, bumping his tires. Shawn swore, feeling his bike start to tip and spin. Shawn had just managed to bring his bike back under control when the second hit came, harder than the first. The bike wobbled before shooting out from under Shawn, it went flying into a tree, sparks flying and eventually catching fire, while Shawn tumbled down the side of the highway, landing hard, with the breathe knocked out of him, against a fallen tree trunk. Shawn groaned and tried to move, feeling both sharp and throbbing pains shoot through him. The pain was too much and the edges of his vision started to go black. Blood started pounding in his ears, only one coherent thought was running through his head; there was no way his accident was a coincidence. This had to be Yin.

The thought caused him to struggle to remain conscious, darkness continued to lick the edge of his vision, and just as it became overwhelming, he managed to make out a fedora clad hat standing at the top of the hill. Was it moving towards him, he wondered briefly, before his head sank against his chest.