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Chapter Two:
From the Ashes…

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1:58 pm, October 10th

To his surprise, Squall found that Seifer wasn't following him. He didn't look back, thinking if he did the officer would take it as some invitation to join – it wasn't. By the time he reached the back of the ambulance, he could see that Detective Almasy was heading over to a middle-aged woman wearing a jacket from the coroner's office. Hopefully, that would keep him occupied. As it was, it was best to do this alone, interviewing witnesses wasn't something Squall preferred to do. In all honestly, it had been years – however speaking to suspects was something he did quite regularly.

That process often ended very badly… for them.

Of course, that just added to the mystery of why he was here and not someone better prepared. Those answers would come later, the ones he needed now were the ones he'd hopefully get out of the suspect… witness.

Whichever.

She hadn't moved, which wasn't saying much. Her head was down as she still seemed to be staring absentmindedly at the pavement. Whatever her fascination was with the surface of the parking lot was - it was lost on him, although he had to admit it was better than the alternatives. One direction was the rubble left from the explosion; the other was the coroner tagging the plastic body bags. …And everywhere in between countless police, fire, ambulance, and rescue vehicles…

Given the options, maybe he could see the lure of the pavement.

"Miss Heartilly," he began, doing his best for it not to sound forced, though he still didn't see a reason to baby the witness. "I know what you just went through was horrific, but there are a lot of questions that need answers. Right now, you are the best chance we have at finding the party responsible."

"I know. It's just that... I... I... Oh God," she began hesitantly before finally breaking into a sob. He watched the tears form in her eyes as she tried in vain to push them away. He attempts only smeared the dirt on her face more, even when she tried to dry them with the corner of the blanket. He continued to study her – there was a trail, of what he assumed was ash from her forehead to her cheek. The way it appeared, he had to wonder if she had just wiped the soot already in her hair, or if she had been more injured than he first believed.

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, he stared at her, wondering if this was an act to gain sympathy from the first responders as playing the victim seemed to be something she could pull off. He also wondered if she understood the difference between not wanting to talk and refusing to talk.

Still, Squall knew he needed to explain that the government held jurisdiction and this was a federal crime scene, by default, she was a federal witness. Still, throwing her into a jail cell on a material witness charge seemed drastic, even for him.

Finally, he moved in and purposely took the spot beside to her. He wanted to see if she'd become at all nervous proximity, although if all this was an act, he sincerely doubted his presence would faze her. Leaning on the rear step of the ambulance, he stood menacingly - arms crossed, gazing across the parking lot. He watched as the uniform officers held back the throngs of bystanders and overzealous media. Even though he was 'looking' at the scene, his main goal was to gauge her reaction and the dark glasses allowed some anonymity.

With his peripheral vision, he watched silently as she finally moved - looking from the pavement back towards the still smoldering wreckage. They shared that moment of peace – her taking in the devastation, him trying to figure her out. He wondered if she would finally break her self-imposed silence or if this was all by design. Something about her demeanor told him she wasn't the type to keep quiet no matter how badly she wanted to. Even the way she held the blanket securely around her showed that she needed to find comfort.

"…There was so much blood." Her words were weak and obviously out of context. She continued to watch as the firefighters worked on containing the scene.

"If I hadn't... hadn't..." she whispered.

Honestly, Squall was caught somewhere between suspicion and wondering if medical needed to be called back to reexamine her. Still, if she was capable of forming rational thoughts, he needed to try.

"…Hadn't what?"

"Stayed back… Angelo," she finally managed. "It should've... me… should've been me on the sidewalk."

"Angelo, was he the agent?"

She sniffed, shaking her head back-and-forth indicating 'no.'

"Angelo was-" He never got to finish as she quickly found her voice, cutting him off.

"No. Dog, my dog. She's… my dog."

"What?" That statement threw him off completely. There were only two dogs at the crime scene, and both belonged to the Timber PD – at least from his observation.

Rinoa moved her hand from under the blanket, pointing toward a black and white squad car. "My dog... she's in the back there."

Squall looked over and could see the tips of two ears from a nearby patrol vehicle. The dog had not been noticeable before, it seemed to be lying down without much ado. For a moment, he found himself looking back at the young woman next to him, although she remained focused on the dog.

"Is she okay?" Even as the question left his mouth, Squall was horrified that he'd asked. There were two people dead and a bomber on the loose, but it wasn't about what he felt comfortable with - rather it was getting her to open up and maybe the dog's health would be that key.

"…Yes." Turning back, even she appeared skeptical, but didn't let it stop her. "Angelo will be fine. They gave her a sedative or something like that to calm her down. Detective Almasy said there was a vet or something on the way. I don't really know anymore... I'm just so… confused."

He nodded unsure how to respond to any of that. On a positive, he found that opening, seizing the opportunity to gain information. "You 'stayed back' for your dog?"

The woman let out a small laugh. It was a slightly off reaction, but something that could be explained as an accumulation of nervousness and fear. "I was walking with them… And then she… she just… stopped. I mean she was on a leash... I tried, but she wouldn't. I told them I'd catch up… Oh God, I never did. I couldn't... and then... it... was so loud... so bright and-"

He cringed as it became illegible… her words silently fading into tears. This is why he preferred going after suspects - they were too busy wanting to beat his ass, or flat out kill him to cry. Thankfully, those interviews never ended in an onslaught of tears... Well, sometimes they did, but there was a smug satisfaction to that.

Unsure how to respond, he turned and stared at her for a second, hoping again that her actions would speak to him… and they did – loud and clear. It happened so fast that he didn't have time to react as this stranger forcefully leaned against his chest, wrapping both arms around him. Although she was sitting and he was standing, it left them around the same level – give or take – because of the ambulance's height.

The fact that she'd caught him so off guard was extremely unsettling. It was something that had never happened during his entire career, or actually, during his entire life. Ever. He'd never let his guard down for even a second but, somehow, today it happened. He'd have to reevaluate that slip-up later, because right now he had a bigger problem. He wasn't one for comforting people, and to have her holding him was unprofessional at best… unexpectedly distracting at worst. However, he was right about one thing as his earlier assessments were still proving correct… she was the type that needed physical comfort from others, a concept that he'd never understand.

…Although, right now, his slight victory didn't really feel like a victory in the least – all this currently proved was that he was uncomfortable as hell.

"Blood there was so much blood," she cried into his chest. "Everywhere... it's still on me. I can feel it - it's just everywhere..."

For a brief second, he wished that Detective Almasy was there, at least then she could be crying into his chest; he seemed the type that would be rather comfortable in this position. Instead, for some ungodly reason, she'd chosen to lean on him. Squall finally lifted his right arm and patted her back twice, hoping that would be enough comfort to satisfy her inexplicable need.

She didn't move.

"Earlier, you implied that you couldn't answer questions – couldn't or wouldn't?" he asked rather softly. The only thing that kept him from prying her off was the hope that she may be more prone to speaking from this position – at least something positive could come out of this awkward hell.

"He said I wouldn't be safe," she answered simply. "I wish… I wasn't here – it should've been me."

At that moment, it registered in Squall's mind that most 'normal' people would offer up some kind of reassurance, but he wasn't a grief counselor.

"Who is he?" Squall asked not sure if she would even respond, but anything was worth a try right now.

"Watts... he was undercover... an agent... I mean... I didn't know... I still don't understand... anything!"

"Listen," he stated firmly, trying to regain control of a situation that he'd allowed to spiral. He moved Rinoa off him, placing her back into a sitting position. Standing from his place against the ambulance, he moved in front of her, removing his glasses. Maybe all she needed is to listen to someone in authority - that had been his intention from the start. "If you are truly sorry for his death, for their deaths, then you need to answer my questions to the best of your ability."

It was the first time he truly looked at her, before all her movements and glances had been buried under stray hairs and a woolen blanket. She'd let go of it as she reached for him and he quickly discovered that it wasn't just for comfort, it hid part of the person beneath. Rinoa Heartilly looked both younger and older than him. He couldn't explain that but, for those seconds, she seemed exposed. Someone lost, but with an underlying hint of determination. It was hard to see behind the tears and blood, but the spark was faint.

Her dark hair was highlighted both by faint blonde streaks and the light of the sun. Mixed in were the clumps of dried blood, knotted with debris, as it had all been pulled back behind her. Her light blue shirt was doused in blood as was her right arm – something else masked by the blanket. He could see a bandage that went around her upper bicep. It looked as if it was haphazardly done or, more likely, that she'd been messing with it. Even as she sat there she favored that arm, but she hadn't mentioned being in any pain.

Again, he was caught off guard, something that was both maddening and distributing all at once. But as he stood there trying to read her, he had this overwhelming feeling that she was doing the same. Quickly, he placed his sunglasses back on as he felt that part of himself had been invaded. Here he had been trying to make her 'feel comfortable' or some stupid shit so she'd answer the questions like she was supposed to in the first place, but no… She dared to use it as an attempt to read him. The last person who did that… Well, they unfortunately read him very, very wrong and the guy swiftly found himself as a practice cadaver for Galbadia's up-and-coming doctors.

This was why he didn't comfort people. They all wanted something.

"All right," Rinoa finally answered. "Just... please get me out of here, I can't talk near... I just... It's just so-"

"Agent Leonhart," a voice yelled out making both Rinoa and Squall turn. Seifer walked around the corner, closely followed by a woman wearing a grey tailored suit. "Sorry to break up your little, um, party, but your cohort in federal bullshit is here."

Squall didn't particular want the witness to overhear and decided it would be best to meet them halfway. Without a word of explanation he left, leaving Rinoa sitting by herself on the back of the ambulance.

The blonde woman looked pleased, smiling as she saw the man standing in front of her. "Squall Leonhart, what brings you out of Deling City? I would say that Timber certainly doesn't seem to be your speed."

"Ooo... what a cozy little reunion we have going on here," Seifer mocked already sensing that Squall wasn't much for socializing. "Do you guys need a few moments alone? Looking at Fed-Boy, I'd say two minutes tops, but I'm probably being way too generous."

The woman laughed it off, knowing the other agent all too well. "No, no, we don't need time at all... Mr. Leonhart and I served in the military together. He chose the bureau and I went DEA. Small world, finding our way back to together, isn't it?"

"How are you doing, Agent Trepe?" Squall replied with the utmost professionalism.

"Please, you know me better than that, call me Quistis."

Seifer laughed pointing a finger at each of the agents chuckling, "Sure you two don't need a two-minutes alone? It can be arranged, makes my job a helluva lot easier. Killing two feds with one stone and all that."

Remaining composed had been the cornerstone of Squall's success and it took a lot to get under his skin, but it appeared the planets were aligning against him. Between missing his train, witnesses who were unaware of social boundaries, police detectives who were also unaware of social boundaries (and general etiquette), and now Quistis Trepe… the last thing he needed was Seifer's juvenile remarks. Then again, the med schools students were always looking for new practice 'volunteers.'

He also made a mental note that next time he asked his superiors about attending a seminar in Timber – don't.

It was simple advice that would've saved him from this massive headache.

Quistis seemed equally as unimpressed by Seifer's remarks. As she brushed past him, she extended him her own bit of advice. "Do you find the death of a federal agent funny, Detective Almasy? I think it's time we get back to the evidence and stop making this into a singles' bar."

Squall was glad at least someone in this town had common sense, although she was a transplant from Deling City. It wasn't particularly his first choice to work with her but, given his other option, she was a damn godsend. Quistis held out a manila folder that she'd been concealing under her arm, handing it over to the other agent.

"So, you two are passing love notes in class and I don't get one?" Seifer sneered, looking between them. "Yeah, I see how this investigation's going to go… You know, even if I do have a fort at the station, I'm not going to hide in there until there until you two yahoos say this is over. Sorry, this happened in my jurisdiction - we're in this together - so kumbaya and all that."

"Mr. Almasy, I was only informed on my drive over that you'd be serving as our local liaison. I'll immediately get a duplicate set sent over to your… fort."

"Darn right you will." He'd made the comment as if he'd just won some large victory. He hadn't, but right now it was about making his presence known and, trust him, these feds would know it.

Squall's headache had official reached critical mass; the final straw was hearing that Detective Almasy was going to be his permanent liaison. It was official - Hell had changed its name to Timber. Unfortunately, his only option was to accept this fate.

Glancing down at the file he'd taken from his counterpart's hand, he too placed it under his arm, making the choice to read it later. Although Quistis said she'd send a 'copy' over to the detective, there's no doubt it would be an abridged version.

That's why he felt it was best done without other eyes around, especially since the witness mentioned having trust issues. He rarely put stock into those types of accusations, particularly when it involved law enforcement. He found that 99.99% of the time it turned out to be entirely false, but Squall hadn't reached his station by ignoring that 0.01%.

As an old mentor once stated, "It's better to tread with caution than to sink with regret."

Speaking about matters of caution, they really needed to remove the witness from the scene. She needed to be properly questioned – preferably with at least a table's width separating them. As far as the crime scene, Squall had the distinct feeling there wasn't much of a story left to tell – the obvious message had already been said. It was a professional hit. Detective Almasy had been correct with that assessment. Right now, the only immediate assets that didn't have long processing times or require technical analysis was the information from the eye-witnesses.

First and foremost - the woman who inexplicably survived because of a 'stubborn dog.' Even Squall had to admit that was new one. Apparently, she'd graduated from 'the dog ate my homework.'

"I need to get the witness to a secure location. I can either take her to the FBI satellite office or down to you precinct," Squall stated rather flatly, finding an intense desire to get moving.

"My precinct," Seifer stated without hesitation. "If you want to prove your fullest cooperation, what better way? Plus, I don't feel like putting Miss Heartilly through another tragedy today by making her stay with you and your kind for any great amount of time."

"We'll meet you back there, Detective Almasy," Quistis added as she signaled Squall to follow her. Seifer mumbled something under his breath that neither of them could quite comprehend, which both found themselves extremely thankful for.

"This ought to be interesting," the woman said, turning back toward Squall. "I'd say that surviving this without Detective Almasy sustaining bodily injury will be an impressive feat."

"Whatever," he replied, getting the car keys from his suit pocket. As far as her comments on the officer, he didn't feel inclined to indulge in idle chit-chat or explore his feelings on any level – up to and including his opinion of Seifer Almasy.

"Same old Squall," she laughed. "I guess there is at least some comfort in the fact that some things never change."

"I could say the same." Unlike with Seifer, his tone was genuine. Fine, maybe he'd do a little chit-chat as a polite gesture. "You've been doing alright?"

"Is that concern I hear out of you?" She laughed with a smile on her face, "I'm flattered." He waved it off with a simple motion of his hand. "Anyway, I've been doing well. It's been different working for the DEA, but I really enjoy it, get to be out in the field a little more."

"Glad to hear," he stated, turning back towards the witness. Quistis followed his lead and looked at the young woman. She'd returned to her earlier position – blanket around her, knees tucked up on the back of the ambulance. "Apparently, she is a civilian, but knew of the agent's identity."

Quistis' smile faded, knowing nothing sat well with that scenario. "He wouldn't have identified himself without a valid reason, or she found out through a secondary source."

"I haven't gotten a chance to question her on that, or anything really. She wants to get away from the crime scene."

"Understandable."

Squall started walking back toward the ambulance and noticed that Rinoa seemed to almost looking beyond them. She didn't speak or acknowledge them as they walked up; instead, her attention had been drawn to the coroner's van as the two bodies were being loaded.

The tall blonde extended her hand toward the young woman, who turned back when she saw the movement. "Hello, I'm Quistis Trepe."

The dark haired woman appeared to reading her too, as Quistis tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Finally, Rinoa accepted the gesture, moving her hand from underneath the blanket. "I'm Rinoa Heartilly. Are you with the FBI too?"

"No, I almost joined, but went another direction – I'm with the Drug Enforcement Agency."

"Oh. So you knew him?" Rinoa added softly, returning her eyes to the van. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry."

"I didn't know him personally, but I thank you for the concern." Moving beside the witness, she placed an arm around her shoulder for support. "You know, we all know the dangers that come with the job. I just want you to know that he understood all the possible consequences. He died doing his job and I can tell you there is no nobler death than to die for something you truly believe in."

The young girl nodded, trying to accept the comfort at face value, but it proved difficult.

"Rinoa, what we need from you right now is your help. I know you think you might not know much, but you'd be surprised. We just ask that you help to the best of your ability. None of us want this tragedy to be in vain. We're going to all go back to Detective Almasy's precinct… let's you get away from this place. You'll be much more comfortable there."

"Is Seifer coming back?"

Squall would have rolled his eyes if he had been so inclined. Seemed like the detective's little tap dance with the witness was working perfectly – talk about a damn single's bar.

"You called," a smug voice answered from behind him.

This was going to be a very long, infuriating case, Squall could tell that from the very first run-in with Officer Stop Sign.

"I just wanted to know if you were coming back," she smiled weakly.

He returned the gesture, but with a full-blown grin. "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I left you alone, now would I?"

With a small bow, he offered Rinoa his hand. She willingly accepted, still keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around her body. "Miss Heartilly, my car is right over this way. I'll personally escort you to the station. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you, Seifer."

The blond man moved around, placing a hand on the small of her back. She didn't say anything else as she followed his lead towards a blue sedan. Squall and Quistis exchanged a quick look, though the female agent couldn't make out the expression behind the sunglasses. Not that his eyes would betray much anyhow, but it was obvious that the two were thinking along the same lines.

Squall also noted that the 'witness' had already called the detective by his first name, twice... not that he was keeping track. It was just blaringly obvious.

"Can you believe his audacity? What does that say about her?" Quistis asked with slight malice.

"She's either easily influenced, or plays people well... time will tell."

Rinoa turned around at that second, looking directly back at him. For a moment, Squall wondered if she had heard his comment, but dismissed the thought just as quickly.

"Let's go."