Author's Note: I hope there are people out there who are enjoying my story so far! I'm certainly enjoying writing it. I know my fics don't exactly have the most lighthearted tone to them, but I guess that's just not my style. Also, if you are wondering about the fragments and run-ons, the reason I use them is to kind of track the story on the same level as Squall's train of thought. Part of that limited omniscient mumbo-jumbo.

2. Passenger

The Deling City Police Headquarters was abuzz with good mornings and mindless chatter about the weekend, who did what, who went where, the trivialities of life. Squall couldn't understand how other people could just stand there and talk about themselves so openly, and so highly, as if their words made them holier than thou. He didn't care for banter, opting to keep his head down in an attempt to avoid another unwanted conversation.

He made his way into the boardroom, which had been set up as a makeshift SeeD command centre for Quistis and himself. The sun had risen by now, light rays pouring into the room through half-open blinds. Against the back wall was a board covered in pictures and notes. Photographs of the victims, both when they were alive as well as post-mortem, persons of interest, next of kin... Every who, what, where, and when that they could find was on that board, laid out in sequential order, but still less than complete.

The question that mattered the most was still missing: why.

Squall made his way to the coffee maker and prepared a pot to help him get through the long day ahead. The machine gargled to life with the push of a button, and he semi-patiently awaited his third cup of the morning. He was at the point where he knew that if he didn't have at least one coffee a day, he would suffer through a caffeine withdrawal, complimented by a massive migraine and less than ideal mood.

The door swung open and Quistis entered, carrying a manila folder. She seemed to have a bit of extra drive behind her step, eyes glinting with a newfound determination behind her designer glasses.

"Our Jane Doe is no longer a Jane Doe," she said and threw down a photo down in front of him. The glassiness was gone from the woman's eyes, her lips pink and full. Alive. "She is Leigh Ellsway, twenty-three, from Dollet. She came to Deling to attend the University of Galbadia and finish her Bachelor of Arts degree. Cause of death was asphyxiation, sometime around 22:00 last night."

"She was in the system?" he asked as he poured their coffees and handed one to her.

"Yeah, she had a misdemeanor drug charge two years ago. Nothing really beyond that, though."

"Who is the next of kin?"

"Her mother, Meredith Ellsway. The victim doesn't have any kids of her own, and her father died in the Second Sorceress War. She doesn't have any siblings, either."

Squall feel his stomach turn over at the thought of having to tell that woman that her only daughter had died. And not only that she died, but that she died in one of the worst ways possible. Murdered. Put on public display. A lifeless trophy.

"I hate doing these notifications," he muttered.

"I know," Quistis agreed. "It's the only part of this job that doesn't get easier with practice."

Squall picked up the photograph and observed it closely. Leigh was a pretty young woman, although not quite beautiful, with soft features that were very girl-like in nature. Her life looked good on paper, promising even, with the exception of a few small hiccups that were typical of a person her age. Now all that potential was wasted, confined to a corpse, never to be used again.

But that was the thing about all the women in the case; they weren't living lives of vagrancy like so many other murder victims. They had dreams, ambitions, goals, and the conviction to make things happen for themselves. They each had something to offer the world beyond their bodies, something to contribute to society, something worthwhile.

He set the photo down and shook his head. In the grand scheme of his life with SeeD, this mission was a minor blip, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something ominous to it, something the photos and the notes neglected to tell him. But there was also the small voice in the corner of his mind telling him that it might just be his ego wanting to feel self-important.

The reality was that he had become a commander in title, but not in practice. The events leading up to his move to Deling three years ago had sent his career spinning sideways, with Cid offering him a transfer in lieu of a well-deserved dismissal—it was compromise without consent. Squall had even gone as far as to request his own resignation, a move that so far had not been honoured by the Headmaster despite the older man's better judgement. He still could not see the value behind keeping his post, but despite all his questions, he ultimately succumbed to Cid's decision without another word.

"Sir, may I have a moment?"

Cid looked up to see the young man standing in doorway of his office. The commander had not been himself as of late, criticisms mounting against him as the voices of his opponents grew louder. While he had not heard anything from the Headmaster in regards to his competence, he knew that the older man had to have been aware of the situation. Change was nothing short of imminent.

"Please, Squall, have a seat," Cid said, motioning to the chair in front of his mahogany desk.

"Thanks."

For a moment, they just sat and stared at each other. This boy, one that he thought of as his own, had at some point grown up. He was no longer a young and apathetic loner, but rather a man at odds with himself. The values and priorities that Garden had taught him to embody were no longer a reflection of what he truly believed.

"Sir, I want to resign." Squall blurted out the words before he could give it a second thought.

"I know you do."

More silence. Squall shifted uncomfortably in his chair. What did he mean he knew? He didn't think that he was being that transparent. A small smirk appeared on the Headmaster's face, not one of amusement, but something else... A plan. A scheme.

"What is your reasoning behind your request?" Cid asked, his voice turning oddly cold and official.

"...I've spent almost a full year away from my daughter. At this rate, I'm going to be a worse father than my own," Squall stated plainly. "I don't want to go down that road... I won't go down that road. I can't do that to her."

Cid's smirk turned into a laugh, but Squall couldn't find the humour in the situation. It was like the older man wasn't taking him seriously, like it was all some sort of sick joke to him. It wasn't supposed to be funny.

"Sir, I—"

"My boy, do you know what kind of message the sudden resignation of a top Garden Commander would send to the world?" It wasn't really a question; Cid clearly knew the answer already. "It would say that we are unstable and that we cannot take care of our own. That message would be detrimental to the image SeeD has spent years perfecting. We are a strong and capable force, but more importantly, we are a UNIFIED force."

Squall felt his jaw clench. Was he really hearing this? The only person joking here was the Headmaster. He didn't want this to be his fate; to be a passenger in his own life until he got someone else's permission to take the wheel. Didn't Cid realize that his life held greater meaning now, a purpose beyond the walls of Balamb Garden? Didn't he realize that he had a family that actually mattered to him? And didn't he realize that there were at least a dozen other SeeDs who were more than qualified—and willing—to take his place? All these questions piled up on his tongue, threatening to escape.

But his voice betrayed him.

"Now Squall, I know what you've been up to lately, and I have to say, I am not impressed," Cid said, observing him as he squirmed slightly at the words. The subtle shift in body language confirmed his suspicions, giving substance to all the rumours surrounding the younger man. "Don't think for a second that I haven't heard, Squall. I may not know the whole story, but I know enough."

Squall chewed on the inside of his cheek. How the Headmaster found out, he wasn't sure. He wasn't exactly proud of it, himself, but he'd had a moment of weakness, and at the time, it was amazing—beautiful, even. It was something he couldn't explain to Cid.

"It was stupid of me, Sir. I know that." He didn't know what else to say.

"Everyone makes mistakes. Hyne knows I've made many," Cid told him. "Having said that, I understand where you are coming from. I know that being so far away from Ellie has been extremely difficult for you."

Squall just listened. He wasn't exactly sure what the Headmaster was getting at.

"Remember when I said that I didn't want you to become a machine? I meant it," Cid told him. "You might not believe me right now, but I'm looking out for your best interests. I'm placing you on temporary leave pending reassignment."

"'Pending reassignment'?" Squall's eyebrows furrowed together.

"Take the hint, son. A bright boy such as yourself should know how to read between the lines by now." Cid leaned back into his chair and offered Squall a wide smile. "Just keep your bags packed."

The drive to Dollet, although only three hours in length, felt like an eternity. The whole time, Squall tried to play out the scene in his head, what they were going to say, how they were going to say it, what they were going to do when Meredith Ellsway heard that her daughter was dead. Before this assignment, he had only ever written letters to the parents of fallen SeeDs, which was more of a copy and paste endeavour than anything personal. We regretfully inform you that SeeD A has lost their life honourably in battle on this month at this time... He had a newfound respect for those who actually had to go out and do these notifications. Quistis was right; it never did get easier with practice.

Meredith Ellsway's home was a quaint brick house with classic curb appeal, located on the outskirts of the city. The dwelling was modest, with a large maple tree in the front yard. Golden leaves were scattered about, rake leaning against the side of the building waiting to be put to use.

The two SeeDs walked through the front gate and up to the entrance, a red door with a large white frame, peephole a little shorter than usual. Quistis gave one glance at Squall before knocking, her quick pattern distinct to his ears—one, one-two-three.

A brief moment passed before Meredith opened the door, greeting them with a warm smile. She was slender, mid-forties, short auburn hair laced with silver... Beautiful. More beautiful than her daughter, Squall thought, despite her age. Her voice was soft and inviting, the voice of a mother. "Hello, can I help you?"

"Meredith Ellsway? My name is Quistis Trepe from SeeD's Intelligence Division. This is my partner, Squall Leonhart. I spoke with you on the phone earlier."

"Oh yes, of course. Please, come in." Meredith took a step back and let the SeeDs inside.

The interior carried a lot of the old-fashioned charm that surrounded the outside of her house: old, creaky hardwood floors; pale green damask wallpaper; photos encased in vintage frames gracing the walls. Some would say the home looked dated and possibly dilapidated, but Squall liked the character of it all.

She sat the two of them in the living area and turned off her television before taking a seat in a red velvet armchair across from them. "What can I do for you? It's not every day that one has SeeD visiting their house."

Quistis cleared her throat before beginning. "Mrs. Ellsway, I'm sorry to say that it isn't good news that brings us here today."

Meredith's hazel eyes widened at the words.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you of this, but last night at 03:46, your daughter, Leigh Ellsway was found dead on the 1900 block of 57th Avenue in Deling City. We believe she was murdered," Quistis said, her voice coated in sympathy. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Meredith blinked once, twice, shell-shocked. Her head bowed and she began to shudder, sobs coming out only as violent breath. She brought her hands to her face, as if to hold herself together, but it didn't work, and she broke down and started sobbing uncontrollably.

Squall's heart sank at the sight of the woman in front of him, a widow robbed of her only child. Tentatively, he reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, hoping that the contact would comfort her somehow. Meredith leaned forward and grabbed onto him, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso as she continued to cry and call out to Hyne and ask why. Squall didn't believe in Hyne, but he wasn't about to take that away from her. He patted her back, hoping to calm her down, even if it was just momentarily; he didn't want to let on that he was extremely uncomfortable having her cling on to him the way she was.

"I know it's hard, but we need you to answer a few questions for us, if you can," Squall told her gently. "Our number one priority is finding out who did this to Leigh and apprehending them."

Meredith nodded and pulled herself together enough to sit back in her chair. She had turned a couple shades paler and her mascara left black rivers running down her cheeks. She choked and sniffed and wiped her eyes as she regained a fragile state of composure.

"When was the last time you heard from Leigh?" Squall pulled his notebook out of his pocket and got straight to the point.

"Last night, she phoned me at 18:30," she replied, her voice husky and raw.

"Did she tell you anything about what she planned to do later that night?"

Meredith thought for a moment. "Yes, she said she had just finished dinner and was about to meet up with a group of friends from her university. They were going to get together at one of their houses."

Squall quickly jotted down her answers before moving on to the next question. "Alright, and did she say exactly whose house she was going to be at?"

"No... No, I'm not familiar with any of her friends from Deling. She keeps her life there fairly separate from here... I don't know why; probably because I'm her mom and she doesn't want me cramping her style. You know how kids can be."

That was not the answer he was hoping for.

"But, there is one person that she told me about."

Squall perked up. "Go on."

"His name is James," Meredith said, nodding slightly as she spoke. "I think she might have been interested in him. They went on a couple dates together... I mean, it's nothing out of the ordinary, but it's all I know."

"Does James have a last name?"

"I don't know it."

"Leigh's file says that she had a drug charge two years ago," Squall said. "Can you tell me more about that?"

Meredith rolled her tear-stained eyes and huffed. "She had a quarter of an ounce of pot and got caught with it at a road block."

"So, you would say that her involvement with drugs was just your the typical college recreational use?"

"Yes, if I had to guess, I'd say that is about the size of it."

"Alright."

The rest of the questioning turned up very little, and was largely redundant. Meredith mused about her daughter, talking about her in present tense as if she was going to come home, alive and well. She was wrapped up in an illusion, hoping that reality was the dream.

Squall thought her sentiments would make a nice eulogy.

Their interview with Meredith Ellsway concluded according to the book. They gave her business cards with their cell phone numbers, told her to call them if she found out anything, offered their condolences... It felt plastic.

The ride back to Deling was quiet. Squall sat in the passenger seat of Quistis' car and listened to the hum of the tires as they rolled against the pavement. He hated the idea of leaving the woman there by herself to cope with such a massive loss. As a teenager, he would have not thought twice about it; he might have even reprimanded her for allowing herself to grow so attached to other people.

But he wasn't that cynical child anymore.