A/N: Not my characters. This collection of interrelated one-shots will have a sister volume up very shortly, featuring more of Tsume and his views on paradise, whereas this one is for Quent, Blue, Hige, Hubb, and Cher. There's also a longer novel in the works for what happened to Kiba, Cheza, and Darcia that will feature the full cast. Toboe, of course, gets into everything...
"You want to explain what's going on here, Lebowski?" the chief of police asked the young detective seated uncomfortably in front of his desk.
Hubb pointed at the glowering man seated next to him. "Ask Quent. He was the first on the crime scene."
The chief of the Freeze City Police Department raised an eyebrow at the heavyset mercenary attired in a rumpled trenchcoat, a privately purchased flak jacket, and an old fashioned army shirt. "Care to enlighten us, Mr. Yaiden?"
"Boy doesn't have anywhere to go. I offered my place. Seems like a simple enough thing to me, but obviously some of your boys don't see it that way," the mercenary said, shrugging. The clink of handcuffs seemed too loud in the small, cheerless interrogation room.
"You do understand that releasing a potential murder witness into the hands of a vigilante is highly irregular in regard to our normal policy and procedures," the chief pointed out.
"I ain't no vigilante," Quentin Yaiden said, raising a corner of his upper lip. "Vigilantes work for free. And I was honorably discharged from active service fifteen years ago and I've never had one of your city's badges, so don't give me that 'policy and procedures' bullshit. The only policy I'm looking to follow here is that old chestnut of mine that says that you don't put a five year old who's done nothing wrong in a jail cell."
"Hey, we do have interrogation rooms and the bullpen. We wouldn't throw him in with the convicts," Hubb tried to reason with the bearishly built man, but Yaiden just turned his glare on the young detective.
"Because that sounds so much better than a stable home for a terrified kid." Lebowski shrugged helplessly under the force of the elder man's angry sarcasm. Both of them quite pointedly avoided looking around the old room, bare save for four chairs, a square nonstick table that had been bolted to the floor, and obvious spots where the off-yellow walls had been repainted.
"I'd like to question him a little more thoroughly before we make any sweeping statements about what the witness may or may not have done," the police chief said, making a note on the paper before him.
Yaiden's jaw dropped in outraged surprise. "Didn't you see the wounds on that body? Those were bite marks, and from bigger teeth than a little boy's, I'd wager."
"We still need to know if the boy knows anything about whatever attacked his grandmother," Detective Hubb Lebowski said, appearing somewhat shaken by the cool turn of his superior's phrase, as well. "We're not putting him on trial, Quent, just asking some questions."
"You don't put a man in jail without giving him a trial. Even the nobles know better than to try that. Might not be a fair trial, but you put on the show, at least," the mercenary muttered. "I've asked him some questions," Yaiden continued in a louder and clearer voice when Hubb shook his head and turned his eyes quickly to his boss. "I'm no lawyer or inspector, but I ain't stupid. I've been around long enough to know what you guys want to hear. The kid just shook me off and kept calling for his granny. He won't be able to answer any of you any better while he's still in shock, and it won't calm him down if you put him in the slammer a few nights before you get around to interviewing him. Let him come home and settle down a little. You know I've already been cleared by the foster folks. Those bastards grilled me and Blue harder after the fire than the police did," Quent reminisced with grudging respect in his gravelly voice.
"You weren't at fault. It was plain as day," Hubb said quickly, touching a hand to the older man's blocky shoulder.
"Neither is the kid. He's lost his family twice now. Don't put him through this shit when there's someplace that would welcome him," Quent Yaiden's voice softened on the last part of the sentence.
"Would you bring him in for questioning?" the chief asked.
"I don't see what good it would do you, but sure. You'd probably have better luck checking for a pit bull or something kept illegally in the apartment complex starting now instead of waiting until the boy can tell you about it. It probably won't be hanging around there for much longer, but you'd have more luck finding it than a little kid that can leave bite marks like that," Quent suggested, appearing much more willing to help now that he had a chance to get the boy away from the police station.
"If by some chance the parents are alive and we are able to locate them, would you be willing to release the boy into their custody?" the police chief continued remorselessly.
Quent Yaiden looked him unblinkingly in the eyes. "That depends upon the parents."
The chief of police nodded, as if he had been expecting this answer. "And you feel yourself capable of caring for the boy as he is? You know that he is not your natural son?"
"It doesn't get much further from natural than that old lady's death…" Quent muttered, looking at something beyond the cramped interrogation room. "I'm not crazy, chief. I can tell the difference between Bruce and Toboe."
"We will contact the fostering agency and have them send the agent to your place instead, then, Mr. Yaiden." The chief of police nodded to his subordinate, and Detective Lebowski removed the handcuffs. Quent nodded his thanks, massaging his wrists as he turned to the door. As he pushed it open, the bear-like man revealed a short, skinny young boy with rust brown hair sticking out in every direction for a good two or three inches from his scalp. Bright, light brown eyes yet too large for the heart shaped face looked up at the old mercenary in wonderment and Quent knelt carefully before the boy to return the bear hug that had wrapped around his knee.
The dog was never found. Eventually, investigators ruled the death accidental.