A/N: Wow… That's really all I can right about now. I honestly didn't think this fic was gonna become so popular. I think I might've said that before, but oh well, I think it deserves repeating, lol. But thanks to all of you reviewers! It means so much to me, and keeps me writing. Don't forget to review this one, okay? And please note that I did my homework about mental disorders for this chapter, so go me! Hehe

~*Responses to Reviewers*~

Cryptic Dragon - No, I do not hang out with crazy people, lol.

frost - Thanks for the suggestions! I'll be sure to take them into consideration!

Princess of Mirrors - Wow, you did a lot of guessing in that review! lol I won't tell you if anything you guessed is right (don't wanna give anything away!) but I will say they were very good guesses!

Songstress Lenne - Omg, you're more addicted than I thought! lol But hey, that isn't a bad thing, like I told you. It means you're dedicated, hehe. In fact, you loving it so much is what made me sit down and write this chapter. So enjoy!

Monday, August 6th, 2003

10:23 pm

Luca Apartment Complex; apartment 3A

Rikku sat at the kitchen table in her small apartment, a cup of coffee in her hand. Normally, she'd be in bed by ten. But not this particular night. She was busy thinking about Tidus, and what had triggered such an outburst. She shook her head at her thoughts.

No, I know what triggered it, she thought. His childhood. Something about his childhood. And his father.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash outside. She jumped, spilling the coffee all over the table, and herself. Cursing quietly, she sopped it up with a large amount of paper towels. Then she stood and looked out the window, trying to find the cause of the noise. There was nothing, except a garbage can turned over.

She sighed and moved to the couch. "Must've been a stupid cat or something," she said to herself with a yawn. "Maybe a raccoon…" Her words were being slurred as sleep began to overtake her.

She took another sip of coffee, to try and jolt herself awake again. Never did she drink coffee before she began working on this case. It totally drained her, and coffee seemed to be the only thing that kept her going.

She tried to piece everything together again. But there was hardly any pieces to work with. She only had one break, and that was Tidus's mention of his father. She was going to need a background check on him. She wanted to know everything. Where he grew up, who his parents were, how they treated him, if he was ever hospitalized as a child… So many things to find out, and she had no idea how to go about it without asking directly. And God knew if she was going to even get a straight answer out of him.

She ran her finger along the rim of the coffee mug, her mind still on Tidus. He acted almost schizophrenic, but she knew he wasn't. He didn't have multiple personalities or anything of the sort. She could safely rule that out at least.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, feeling a pang in the back of her skull. If she got a headache now, she'd never fall asleep. She stood up to get some aspirin from the nearby cupboard, going over other possibilities as she did so.

Maybe he's bi-polar? she thought as she took out three pills and swallowed them with a glass of water. She shook her head. No, it's hereditary. His father would have nothing to do with it, not intentionally anyway.

She drank the rest of the water, still thinking. "OCD?" This time, she spoke out loud. Her face grew hot, thankful no one could hear her talking to herself. They would think she was the crazy one.

No, he's not Obsessive Compulsive either. Well… maybe he has an OCD about murdering? It was a farfetched idea, but she didn't rule that one out. Still, that didn't explain the father issue.

Just as she was about to give up for the night, another idea suddenly struck her. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!" she exclaimed, and immediately clasped a hand over her mouth.

Shit… I really have to stop doing that…

But it fit perfectly. PTSD was caused by a trauma. War, a death, rape, domestic or sexual abuse as a child… That would definitely explain why he lashed out when talking about his father.

Her heart suddenly ached. So maybe he wasn't just a cold-blooded killer after all. He was simply traumatized. It was a mental illness, not something he chose to do willingly. She wasn't sure if that was all there was to it, but it had to be a big part.

Now, with newfound leads, she finally went to bed. She'd have to talk to Greg in the morning.

Tuesday, August 7th, 2003

12:46 pm

Luca Apartment Complex; apartment 3A

Rikku listened as the phone rang twice before hearing a voice on the other end. It wasn't Greg, although she'd called his office directly. Her brow furrowed. She recognized the voice, but couldn't put her finger on who it was.

"Hello?" the voice said, sounding sleepy.

"Um… Can I speak to Mr. Greg Walters please?" Rikku asked.

"Sorry, he's out to lunch. But maybe I can help you. What's the problem ma'am?"

Suddenly, she put a name to the voice. "Mitch?"

"Who is this?"

She sighed. He was the last person she wanted to talk to about the situation. "It's me, Rikku."

He perked up. "Rikku? Man, you sound so different on the phone."

"As do you."

"So what's up?"

Rikku shook her head, getting ready to hang up. "Nothing that's any of your business."

Mitch smirked. "Ohh, it's about the case isn't it?" He paused, becoming slightly serious again. "Well what's going on? You got a break, didn't you?"

"Look, it doesn't matter because you can't help me. Only Greg has the capability of finding out the background of him. So it's no use telling you what's going on."

Mitch's eyebrows furrowed and he leaned forward in his seat. "A background check? What do you want a background check for?"

She sighed again. She didn't want to be rude and hang up on him, so she decided to give in and tell him what happened. What harm could it do? "I asked him about his childhood, and suddenly it seemed like he was possessed or something. Like an entirely different person. And he said something about his father. He like… pleaded for his father to stop, and leave him alone."

"Schizo?"

She shook her head. "No, it wasn't like another personality. It was more of a mood swing than anything else."

"Maybe it's just that time of the month," Mitch said with a chuckle.

"See, this is why I don't tell you anything, Mitch. It's all just a big joke to you."

"No, no, I'm sorry. Look, I can try to run a check on him, but if I can't do it alone, I'll see Greg about it. How's that?"

She thought about it for a few seconds. "Sounds good."

"So come down here in a few hours. We should have something by then."

She nodded. "Okay, I will. Bye."

"Bye, Rik."

"Rikku."

Tuesday, August 7th, 2003

5:27 pm

Besaid Police Department; Chief Officer Gregory Walter's office

Rikku opened the door to Greg's office, the smell of stale coffee assaulting her senses. She found Mitch sitting at Greg's desk, with Greg standing over by the window, as usual.

"Alright, what'd you find?" she asked, pulling up a chair on the opposite side of Mitch.

Greg turned to look at her. It was almost as if he hadn't even known she'd walked in. "Go ahead Mitch. Show her what we came up with."

Mitch picked up a manila folder from the desk and handed it to Rikku. He looked frustrated about something, much different than when she last talked to him. She gave a glance at both Greg and Mitch before opening it.

Her brow furrowed as she read down the series of pages. "No records of hospitalization as a child, no physician's reports of abuse, no history of alcohol or drug abuse…" She looked over at each of them again. "Nothing?"

Greg shook his head. "That's all we found related to any kind of abuse from his father. There's nothing. As you can see, we checked for drugs and alcohol too, and he's squeaky clean."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Well then what was all that talk about his father?"

Greg shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe he didn't mean to say it. Just slipped."

"No, he meant it alright." She sighed and stood, handing the folder back to Mitch. "I guess I'll just have to go with Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

"I'm going to have to ask him directly."