Spinning, laughing, dancing to
her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone
Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And she'll sing her song to anyone
that comes along
Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin' to the ground
Without a sound
Crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That's all her own
Spinning, laughing, dancing to her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
And she's all alone...
~Norah Jones, Seven Years
It was a fresh crisp morning that day. Winter was inching closer and closer to its end, as if it was slowly but surely being pushed by Spring. Butterflies and birds had yet to migrate; not even the snow had shown signs of melting. Yet, it had gotten warmer, if only by a slim margin, felt by everyone. There was a sense of joy all around, which was also felt - and shared - by everyone. Everyone seemed to know that the city - for this moment - was at peace.
The FBI building - even if it's employees were hard at work going over the old and new crimes - seemed to be peaceful, at least from the outside. The young FBI agent seemed to agree with the atmosphere. His hair was a bright tan - not quite blonde, but too bright to be considered brown. His attire was a fancy purple suit and slacks. Actually, everything he was wearing was purple, separated only by different shades. Even his long tie was purple. Overall, he was charming and handsome - perfect, even - except for one small flaw. Right under each bright blue eye was some kind of line, giving him a tired appearance, even when he was looking at you normally. Although, when you're an FBI agent, who could blame you?
As he walked down the sidewalk in full stride, the agent reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a keycard. Needless to say, the FBI buildings had very high security so that complete strangers would be unable to waltz right in. Not only was a keycard necessary, but quite a few codes needed to be inputted as well.
The agent stood before the gate and was about to swipe his card down the reader, when he stopped. He felt an odd feeling like he was being watched. Why would that be? Just to be safe, the agent looked around. He didn't see anyone, but the feeling of eyes on him remained. The feeling was eerie, and the agent, not exactly known for being paranoid, decided it would be safe to take a thorough look around.
It was fairy early in the morning, and the bright, golden sun was just beginning to perch over the houses and apartment complexes in the distance. In front of him was a paved road, but it hadn't received a fresh paving in awhile, and the road had faded to brighter gray than it should be. However, there were no potholes, just a few cracks from winters before, and the lane lines were intact. On the other side of the road were a few houses and a lot of snow-covered lawn. The agent eyed a snowman in front of one of the houses.
Since it was morning, cars were driving by, but not a lot. The agent guessed that 1 or 2 cars passed every 30 seconds, but it was just an estimate. It's not like he had time to calculate it. Although he apparently had time to look for whatever may or may not be looking at him. The feeling of being watched was getting even more ominous.
The agent took a deep breath and remembered that he was employed to the FBI, and he had no time to waste on trivial things like this. Ignoring the continuing feeling, the agent shoved his keycard into the reader and began to input the codes, which he had memorized months before to the point where it seemed like second nature. After inputting the last code, an LED panel attached to the keypad flashed a green 'Access Granted'. The agent put a firm grip on the door's handle and looked behind him one final time. With a push, the door opened with ease. The agent took a single step forward.
"Boo."
The agent stumbled and whipped around, resisting the urge to yelp, but an "ACK" escaped his lips nonetheless. He almost drew his gun until he realized who had said 'boo'.
She was a small girl, short and painfully skinny. She was wearing a short-sleeved tunic-type thing that looked like it was cut from a potato sack or a different type of fabric. It was a little too big for her and it was incredibly dirty. Actually, everything the girl had seemed to be dirty and smudged, from her barefoot feet to a smudge on her forehead. Her clothes were lacerated in some spots and had dirt marks and stains flecking it like a smeared Jackson Pollock painting. The small, brown bag she had slung over her shoulder was no better, and it looked like it would fall apart at any moment. It looked like patches had been sewn onto it at some point in time as well, meaning it had already fallen apart before. She must've had that bag for awhile. It looked like a thick... stick-like thing was sticking out of the top, but the agent couldn't identify what it was.
The agent looked at the child's face and instantly realized something off balance - her hair. It was bright tan, only slightly lighter than his own hair color. But it wasn't like his hair at all. Her hair was long. So long, in fact, that it seemed to flow down both sides of her like a veil. It almost touched the sidewalk she was standing on. It was just so perfect, her hair. Parted right down the center, balanced evenly, and - unlike the rest of her - nearly spotless.
Finally, the eyes of the agent fell on the girl's face. Her eyes were... greenish, he thought. They were dull and had seemed to turn gray. There was a hint of green in her dull eyes, like an emerald flame in a cavern of ice. The rest of her face was just as dull. She had no innocent look to her as a child should. Yet, she wasn't looking at him with contempt, anger, or sadness. She was just... staring at him. Her dulled eyes were looking him over just as he was.
The agent's breathing steadied after she said 'boo', finally. He convinced himself that the child was no threat, but he didn't know what to say next. The girl's eyebrows raised slightly, as if she didn't know what to say either. A stony, yet awkward, silence fell between them. Tension swam around them, making the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither knew what to say or do.
Finally, the silence was broken.
"Did I scare you?" The girl said, her stare just as blank. Her voice was high pitched and angelic, yet it almost seemed too perfect. Like it was training itself for this one moment to say that one line.
"Uhm... uh..." The agent hesitated. In all honesty, it was a surprise that made him jump, but he wasn't about to admit that. "Nice try, but I work for the FBI. I'm not scared that easily."
Oh the irony... the agent groaned in his thoughts.
"I... see." Her gaze never changed, but her blunt tone seemed to indicate that she didn't believe him. She seemed to play along, though. "Are all of the people in the FBI tough?" The way she said 'FBI', it sounded more like 'Eh-Vee-Eye', but the agent tried not to call attention to that.
"Well, of course." He said, not sure of what else he could've said. "That's what they're supposed to be, after all."
"Are they... friendly?" She asked. This question caught the agent off guard. While most of the agents seemed friendly enough, he really only talked to them when he needed them to analyze evidence, and those 'conversations' hardly let anyone know if people were friendly. 'hey, can you examine _' 'yeah, sure, I'll have that back as soon as possible.', was the typical 'conversation'.
"... Oh..." The girl mumbled. The agent realized he'd hesitated too long and gave the wrong impression to the girl. The agent's face flushed with embarrassment for a moment before he knelt down and smiled awkwardly at the girl.
"N-no, not everyone's bad, you know! No wait..." The agent made a mental note to word sentences better and tried again. "I mean, everyone is nice an all! I mean, it's not like we have lunch together like buddies or something, but we're not screaming at each other either."
The girl looked away and then looked back at him, meeting his gaze. "Are you friendly?" She asked. The agent smirked smugly.
"I dunno. What do you think?" He replied. The girl stared at him with her blank gaze for a moment longer before her lips curved into a slight smile.
"You're funny, Mister FBI man... and you're nice."
The agent took this as a chance to show off, as weird as it sounds. He stood up, ran a hand through his hand and adjusted his tie, all while smiling smugly.
"Please, call me... Agent Navel."
Although, Agent Navel got the opposite reaction he'd hoped for, because instead of the girl's eyes filling with awe like he'd planned, she started giggling at him like he told a joke. Or maybe, to her, he was the joke.
"You're so funny, Agent Navel..." She giggled. Her giggling died off fast and she quickly regained her composure. She looked down at her feet as if she was thinking of another question. This gave Agent Navel a free moment to realize just how much time he'd wasted talking to this girl, and how late he was right now.
"Uh... woah! I gotta run!" He said, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible. To take even more precautions, he suddenly made a dash for the door, leaving the girl standing in his dust.
"Wait." She said. Navel paused briefly and looked back at her. She was back to looking at him blankly, but she suddenly curved her eyebrows as if she was concerned. "You work for the FBI... and you catch bad people?"
"Y-yes." Navel answered quickly.
"... Do you trust me? Or do you think I'm bad...?" She suddenly spoke.
Once again, Navel was caught off guard. How should he go about answering that? He had no idea, but his mind was yelling at him to get to work before he got yelled at by a certain white haired woman for being late. Navel shook his head.
"I don't know, what do you think?" Again, answering quickly, Navel dashed into the door as it slammed shut behind him, leaving the girl all alone. The girl watched the door for a moment longer, hoping he'd come back. Maybe with a different answer. Or maybe just so she could see him smile again. But he didn't come. The girl sighed and trudged down the sidewalk slowly with her head hung down.
Navel thrashed into his office and almost tackled his chair. He quickly put on the Voice-chat headset and turned it on, only to find that Naomi Kimishima had already been trying to contact him for 3 minutes. Great.
"Ah, Good morning, Dr. Kimishima!" He greeted, still panting heavily. "Sorry abo-"
"I've been trying to reach you for 3 minutes. Where have you been?" A stony voice interrupted him in mid sentence. The voice obviously belonged to Naomi Kimishima, who was arguable harder than nails. She spoke to him like a mother scolding her son, which didn't please Navel, but he was in no position to fight back about that.
"U-uh... I-it's not important, doctor." Navel stammered, trying to just play it off.
"Ugh, whatever." Naomi scoffed. "What're the cases today, Little Guy?"
"Uh... cases... oh right!" Navel said out loud. He began sorting through a stack of manila envelopes and random other papers that were scattered around his desk.
"You really forgot about the cases?" Naomi accused. "You seem out of it, Little Guy. Are you feeling alright?" She asked if he was okay, but that more-or-less meant 'you better be okay or I'll scold you', or something to that effect.
"No, really, I'm fine, It was just... so much to do, so little time, ya know? eheh..." Navel paused and smacked his forehead with his palm. That was a bad response. He thought he heard Naomi chuckle on the other end.
"So the pressure is getting to you now, Little Guy?" Naomi said. Navel's face turned red as he desperately looked for a way to change the subject. Luckily, he found today's case file.
"Ah, perfect!" Navel said out loud. "Uh, I mean, I found the case file, Dr. Kimishima. Want me to read it?"
"Please do, if it isn't too much for you to handle."
"D... doctor..." Navel moaned. He sighed and opened the envelope. "Okay, the victim is-"
Suddenly, a loud ringing pierced the air around Navel. Naomi heard it as well. Navel sighed yet again.
"Uh... phone!" Navel said out loud, as if it wasn't clear enough what was ringing. Navel removed the headset and held the phone to his ear. Naomi waited on the other end and tried to hear the conversation, but she only heard what Navel said:
"What's going on? I'm kinda busy here..."
"... She did WHAT!"
[[AUTHORS NOTE: I've never played Trauma Center, and I've only watched a walkthrough of it, which is good enough for me, lol. I'm trying my best to write this, so if you could point out any errors, that would be great, and I wouldn't be offended at all. Reviews are very much appreciated, of course! 8DDDD I hope you enjoyed this part!]]