Ten Feet of Pure White Snow (Nav and Wooseog)

[Wooseog Ryu]

"There you go with those assumptions again," Dahlia commented off-hand as Dean responded to her comment about a riveting car chase. As long as she knew Dean, he had been making assumptions about her, and even harmless ones like these seemed to strike a chord. Her look was a cross between some amusement, but more annoyed. Letting out a large yawn and excusing herself, she turned to look at Marco in the back with a grin, she was beginning to think the K-9 dog might be a better conversationalist than Dean. "Good morning, Marco." Dahlia cooed, only beginning to focus again when she began to think about her family, and their involvement.

"Roy knows where I live. He knows my doorman, Edgar, my neighbour, Gladys, and my sister, Evelyn. He also knows the Church that Evelyn serves at, we've been there once before." Dahlia ignored a sinking feeling in her gut about any danger that might come to her sister. "He thinks I'm under arrest, right? I mean, that text he sent me, the one where he lied and said he was sorry, that I was brave. Do you think he saw me getting hauled off?" Her mind was spinning with so many questions that she hardly had time to get squeamish at the mention of "hunting grounds."

"Psychologists offices," Dahlia interjected while thinking of places Roy met his victims. Bars and clubs were the last places Dahlia would be found, and even Roy tended to avoid them, when he was with her at least. "He frequented a few places around Chicago," Dahlia said, swallowing a lump in her throat at the idea of violence, it made her cringe. "I-if he's in Chicago, we can find him. But Dean. Please try not to let me die."

After that, she kept her mouth shut till they arrived at the station, she looked at the spot in the parking lot where she had thrown up yesterday, then took a deep breath. "Got it. I'll make this interview as painless as possible," Dahlia vowed, hoping they would offer a coffee to get through the "gruelling" day that Dean had explained. Dahlia kept her head down and kept close to Dean and Marco as they entered the building which was awash with police officers. In there was a face she recognized though, who immediately turned and nodded to Dean and Dahlia the second they walked in. Agent Van Bly was there with another, younger agent. He carried two briefcases, and seemed entangled in conversation with a supervisor there, but quickly waved Dean over when he saw him.

"Good morning Miss Harper, and Officer Reyez I hope you have rested well for the day ahead." Nelson greeted them with his usual hollow courtesy, but somehow seemed even more hollow today. Despite the forced smile, his eyes had the same dark rings as Dahlia, Nelson had been keeping himself busy all night. One of the briefcases was for himself, the other one he had compiled for Dean, and had about every single document on Roy that he had shown him yesterday. "Dean, if we may speak for a moment my partner, Agent Demas will get Miss Harper ready for her interview. I've come across some things I believe might help us."

 

[Nav]

If Dean had gotten under her skin, he either hadn't noticed or hadn't bothered to care. She had been right—they weren't friend. He wasn't keeping her as an enemy, she was far from, but she wasn't his friend; he didn't care to have any. His only friend was Marco, though he considered the dog more as a member of his family than a friend. Of course, he was always listening. He was taking him and acknowledging everything she said with careful digestion. It concerned him how much Roy had wiggled his way into her life. If he ever got wind of something going south, he certainly had his pick of leverage… family, friends…. The list was practically endless and ripe with targets.

Forcing himself to not think in such a way, Dean let his mind wander to her next comment. "Yes, you mentioned that—the psychiatrist's office. I find that interesting," but not really. Somehow, saying 'well, of course he looks for women he thinks are broken' wouldn't be met with the most upbeat response. She wasn't his friend, but she wasn't his enemy either and it wasn't his goal to make her feel bad. "As far as I can tell and am aware, yes, he likely believes you are in prison like the others." They could have pleaded all they want, but the fact of the matter was that they had been caught with the drugs.

Most of the officers probably couldn't—or wouldn't—pursue any of the women's claims. It had only been good luck that Van Bly had gotten Dahlia's scent before she was hauled off into a dark cell where she wouldn't see the sun except through a barred slat for ten to twenty years. He was so engrossed in those considerations, he very nearly missed the stinging voice that was saturated with pain and fear echoing through the cab of his cruiser. "Protect and serve, Dahlia," he replied, his face as straight and serious and marble, "We're not friends, but I'll protect you with my life. That's an oath I took once and I take it very seriously."

The law was not perfect. For as high as he held it and looked to it for guidance through life, even Dean wasn't disillusioned enough to believe there weren't flaws and faults in the system. Once, he had promised he'd serve the law and the people it protected with his very life, and whether or not that oath would ever be put to the test, Dean knew he'd not fail.

They quickly shuffled into the police station and Dean moved with haste. He paused to offer a nod of his head or a curt 'hello' only to those who acknowledged him first. He didn't have time for formalities. It was only when Agent Van Bly tagged him did he finally slow down and come to a complete halt. "Sir," he greeted, though the greeting wasn't particularly warm or inviting, "Yes, of course we may." His brows raised up his tanned forehead in surprise and interest—anything that could be of some help was of interest to him.

With Nelson escorting Dahlia off, Dean glanced her way once more as if to sure she was truly okay (because perhaps he felt only the slightest bit obliged), before looking back to the stern-faced Agent. A briefcase had been handed off to him during the transaction, which weighed surprisingly heavy in his palm. "Trust me, at this point, I'm all ears. I'm concerned about her—Dahlia." Now that she was out of earshot, he allowed his face fall into a proper frown, "She doesn't deserve a minute of any of this." Maybe he'd never show her any shred of concern because he believed it to be in her best interest, but that didn't mean he didn't feel for her and her situation.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

"Interesting, huh?" Dahlia repeated after Dean took a brief pause, but she was appreciative that he was being diplomatic with his wording. "Well, actually, that seems like the logical place to start looking for somebody like him," Dahlia said, sparing Dean having to say it himself, but still making herself feel a little worse off. It could have all been worse though, she could have actually been in prison right now. It was strange that it seemed like the safest place to be. "I'm not going to prison," Dahlia blurted out, more for herself than for Dean. "I've overcome too much for this to be where it ends."

Dahlia kept her sights forward with knitted brows, she wanted to stay steadfast and hold on to the fiery determination she felt, but something Dean said softened her. She was Dean's responsibility now, and of course he was doing his job, but Dahlia was surprisingly touched by the seriousness in Dean's voice when he repeated his oath for her. She felt safer, her tensed up muscles began to relax. She turned away from Dean so he wouldn't catch her face going bright red. "Umm. Thank you Dean. I know you're doing your job but still..." Dahlia left much more unsaid; ike that it was strange to have somebody looking out for her, somebody on her side, whether he liked it or not.

"And I truly hope nothing bad happens to you, truly." Well, to either of them really, but Dahlia didn't want to sound selfish, having put the man through enough trouble already. Even if Dean didn't much care for her, Dahlia could trust him, but she would have to learn to trust herself too, and be smart. She was questioning whether she might have to dye her hair, cut it, or maybe start wearing make-up. If she ended up hurt from everything, so be it; Dahlia would never forgive herself if her family ended up hurt, and yes, if Dean Reyez ended up hurt.

They arrived and she felt a little more comfortable, a little more relaxed even in the face of two stern FBI agents whom she greeted with a polite smile. As Agent Demas lead her away, Dahlia shot back one more glance towards Dean. It was a nervous reflex at first, but when she realized Dean was looking back at her, Dahlia quickly hid her fear, and gave him a confident nod. Within a few seconds, she was marched off to another interrogation room, and Nelson invited Dean into a room that he had temporarily cleared out for their use.

"Concerned?" Nelson began once they were in private. The agent expected Dean to have concerns, and probably not just a couple. Since this was new territory for Officer Reyez, Nelson was ready to give this case, the officer, and Miss Harper his full attention. He pursed his lips and nodded in understanding, he figured Dahlia would be the main point of concern. "No. Miss Harper does not deserve any of this, Officer Reyez, she is a victim, missed by the shield of the law. Do you think she deserves the right to fight, Dean?" Nelson asked curiously, not wanting to mention the alternative for Miss Harper, but fascinated in Dean's opinion.

"Has she showed you any resistance, insubordination? Are your concerns on a personal level, or are they based on her safety? Keeping yourself and Miss Harper safe is paramount to me, Officer Reyez. You may speak as candidly as you wish." Nelson wanted everything in the open, a sense of trust between the two men. As eager as he was to share what was in his briefcase, he realized Dean's thoughts were more relevant, now that he had gotten to know their temporary "partner."

 

[Nav]

Dean hadn't been expecting the Agent to pursue his vein of thought any further. Any and all contact he had ever had with agents of any kind had always been direct and to the point, as blunt and cold as day-old oatmeal, but there stood Nelson with an inquisitive gleam in his eye. The man was almost devilish in appearance and there was no denying the coldness that lurked beneath his skin, but Dean found himself relaxed around the man all the same, like he was some kind of strict and cold foreboding father figure. It was a difficult thing to grapple with and something Dean fought against constantly, as most of the force had several years (or more) of age on him. The other officers, and now the agents, tried to treat him like their son instead of their equal.

"Resistance and insubordination? No," Dean answered, leaning against the desk and setting down the briefcase for a while so he could fold his arms across his chest. The leather of Marco's leash was still tangled up in one of his hands, though the line was slack and the big dog laid down peacefully at his side with his head tucked over Dean's nearest boot. "I was not trying to insinuate that she doesn't deserve the chance to fight, but what happens to her if this goes bad? She will go to jail and she will risk not only her own wellbeing, but the wellbeing of her friends, her family. I've talked to her with some length and this Roy fellow knows all of her closest and most personal connections."

It wasn't like Dean to worry about the wellbeing of other people. He worried to extent his job required him to, but he had never been a terribly sympathetic man. Still, something about Dahlia struck a chord with him. He wasn't even sure what it was because nothing about her or her story was all that remarkable to him—he had seen dozens, hundreds, of poor men and women just like her: tricked while the wool was pulled over their eyes. Perhaps it was because so much of his career and future rode on Dahlia's case that his selfish worry transferred to her to some extent.

Dean narrowed his eyes a little until the clear blue of his eyes transitioned into a murkier shade. He felt Nelson's willingness to reach out, but Dean felt himself bulk. He never trusted anyone so quickly, though he knew he probably ought to. The man was an agent, after all, and well out ranking him on the social ladder, there was no reason for Dean not to trust him, but a little voice in his head kept telling him to watch exactly what he said and how he said it. "It is my opinion that a great deal more needs to be done to ensure that Roy continues to believe Miss Harper is in prison. She should be pulled from work, social activities, family and friend contact."

Hell, at that rate, Dean realized she might as well had gone to jail. It would be no different.

"Though from my limited understanding, Roy has shown no signs of violent behavior in his immediate past, that is not to say he won't ever show violent behavior. If he wished to try and make leverage, he certain has his choice of people with which to do it." Clearing his throat, Dean looked back to the brief case, "But I believe you had something you thought was important to share with me?"

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Unusually, Nelson wasn't only taking Dean's words with thoughtful consideration, but he was also taking mental notes about everything. Dean was more than just the handler of Miss Harper, and more than just the one investigating this Roy of myriad last names; Dean was an extension of himself from this point on, and Nelson wasn't going to take anything he said lightly. What would he himself do in the situation? This is the question he was asking himself, and Nelson had never been one to skimp on the safety of those under him. Back straight, and hands folded neatly over his desk, one could swear there was a "creak" when Nelson nodded his head.

"I understand," Nelson said at the mention of Miss Harper's family. He hadn't overlooked the fact, but in the past, Roy had chosen victims who wouldn't be missed, so to speak. It was easier for the culprit to escape if there weren't family members to come snooping around. "She had introduced Roy to her family and friends during the course of their relationship? If Roy proves to be a paranoid man, we can't have these friends, or family members know Dahlia is walking. Good instinct," Nelson complemented Dean before racking the back of his mind for a solution. The solution would not be ideal for Miss Harper, no doubt they would hear protestations, but if her family's lives were at stake, he knew she wouldn't take risks. Miss Harper was frightful enough as it is.

"I trust your judgement, Officer Reyez. I will see to it that Miss Harper be placed in temporary housing as soon as I clear it with the director, which will not take long. In the event it is not immediately cleared, Miss Harper is situated at your place of residence?" Nelson asked Dean, almost looking apologetic to what he was about to say. "It may be best that she spend another night at your home, if that is within your doing." Nelson said, hoping it wasn't too much of a burden, no matter how necessary. After that, he paused, coming to the same somber realization that Dean had.

"Miss Harper will likely be grieved to hear the news, she will have to notify her employers, we will contact her immediate family. If appropriate, Miss Harper will have a chance to gather personal belongings from her home, we may have to have an agent do so for her. We will not let Roy become privy to our information." Nelson concluded as he wrote some short-handed notes on his pad, he was slow to jump on the technology bandwagon, but it had yet to slow him down. "I'm glad you brought your concerns to me, Dean."

It was very rare for Nelson to give commendations. His partner, Agent Demas had long forgotten trying to impress the senior agent, but Nelson was somewhat absolutely absorbed, with Roy, with Dahlia, with everything Officer Reyez brought back to him. The idea of Agent Van Bly hiding a secret, storage locker mind-map wasn't too far fetched, especially when the topic turned to the files he had gathered. He pulled out a rather light file and opened it up, re-reading the files of convicted women he had mentioned before. "Not so much information, but sources of information." Nelson corrected himself as he handed the file over to Dean.

"Rebecca Mueller, Ariel Doyle. I've mentioned these names to you previously if you'd recall from yesterday. Former victims of Roy, both residing in the Metropolitan Correctional Center. I've spoken to them both before in detail, but it is my hope that the knowledge you are able to ascertain from Miss Harper may supplement what they know. Names, Places, so forth." Nelson watched the files closely as he handed them to Dean, paying particular attention to Ariel Doyle, a woman who had just now turned twenty-seven, but was convicted far younger than Dahlia.

"I've made sure both of the women are available to you should you feel the need to speak with them. Also." Nelson actually grinned before reaching into the briefcase and pulling out a signed sheet of paper that he handed to Dean. The paper already had Nelson's signature, as well as his superior, and the captain of the police station. "This form is for your temporary placement within the FBI. In a way, it is like deputization. Your typical duties as an officer will be put on hold, but your pay will not be affected. It essentially explains everything I've described to you about our arrangement in detail. Read it, and sign it if you so wish to do so. Then, welcome to the team, Officer Reyez."

 

[Nav]

The compliment felt perfunctory, so Dean didn't let it nestle too deep into the 'feel good' portion of his brain. Instead, he acknowledged it for what it was with a slight tilt to the corner of his lips and gave a stern nod. "Even if Roy hasn't proven violent in the past, he would likely flee if he knew the investigation was more active against him. At least, if I was him, that would be what I would do. If he manages to slip off out of the city and go into a different country to wait it out, we'll lose any chance we have to apprehend him." It wasn't guaranteed he wouldn't find out that Dahlia was a free woman anyways, but they could at least act to reduce their chances and give them the most viable amount of time to work.

He seemed to perk up at the idea of Dahlia being placed into temporary housing. It would be nice to have his own space to himself again. Though she had only stayed but one night in his apartment, he was very much ready to return to his peaceful and quiet lifestyle once more. "Yes," he remarked idly, "She is situation at my apartment for the time being. She seems to have enough belongings in her luggage to get her by for now, at least." Though he'd need to do some grocery shopping to sustain her—what was she again? Vegan? Vegetarian? Gluten Free? He couldn't recall off the top of his head what strange fad diet she mentioned following. It wasn't pertinent information so he had quickly whisked it from his mind.

Of course, the evening wasn't going to be easy—for either of them. Dahlia would have to swallow down the realization that her family, friends, and employer would be told she had been arrested and Dean would have to cope with Dahlia. All around, it sounded like a recipe for absolute disaster and disgruntlement, but Dean only numbly nodded. If she had to stay, she would stay. "Perhaps it's best an officer goes for her," he said, pausing a moment to clear his throat, "If Roy is watching, it may make him more inclined to believe she has actually been incarcerated."

The conversation shifted and Dean's gaze shifted to the thick manila folder of papers being handed to him. Quickly, he leafed through it very briefly. "Yes, I am familiar with the names," he replied though his eyes didn't lift from their tear stained mugshots clipped into their respective files. Extensive interview files were also included and Dean quickly realized just how much reading material he would have for the night. It seemed like there wouldn't be a whole lot of opportunity for sleeping in the coming days. "I will let you know if and when I'd like to speak with these women. In the meantime, I'm sure I have plenty to keep myself busy between Miss Harper and these files."

'Plenty' was definitely an understatement to say the least.

The next matter in their discussion was one Dean should have been expecting, but hadn't. It caught him by surprise for a beat of time as he glanced to the last packet handed to him. "I-" he paused a moment just so he wouldn't 'uhhh' like a moron. He hated 'uhhh'ing. Swallowing down his lack of response, Dean quickly gave a nod. "I would like to read it first, sir. I'll sign it and fax it to you tonight," he replied finally, noting the fax number listed at the bottom near the signatures. A wise man had once told him to always be aware of what he was wadding into, and Dean wanted to magnify every small print of what he was about to sign.

"Anything else, sir?"

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Nelson couldn't help but chuckle at the dryness of Dean's "yes" when he mentioned Dahlia as a housemate. The agent himself had married at a young age, and had a daughter five years later. Becoming accustomed to living with a woman was something trying, and Miss Harper didn't come off as the low maintenance type. "Your patience will be tested, Officer Reyez, I will not make that fact a secret," Nelson said, being encouraging where he could. "From her position, however, I imagine this all to be quite traumatic, practice patience, take small steps." Nelson was reminded of the human aspect of their job that was often overshadowed in favor of efficiency, or business. The fact he had a daughter roughly the same age as Miss Harper, and the other victims, wasn't far from his mind too.

"After the interview, we will allow Dahlia to write a list of anything she may need from her apartment," Nelson said, calling Dahlia by her name as opposed to "Miss Harper" for the first time. Nelson nodded his head sharply as Dean took in all the material, the interviews had been extensive so Dean would be doing more than "keeping busy."

"I haven't decided yet, however," Nelson began seemingly out of the blue, looking towards the hallway that Dahlia had been lead away in. "If it would be better to tell Miss Harper before, or after the interview about the situation with her family. I'm leaning towards after." The fact was, Dahlia Harper had a long day ahead of her, and they needed her in a good place of mind. It felt deceitful to let it wait, but in the long run it would be better.

Of course Nelson didn't expect Dean to sign the papers right away, that would have made him question his choice. "Read it twice, thoroughness always pays." Nelson gave some more friendly advice. He stood up before Dean asked him if there was anything else, motioning towards the door as not to waste anymore time, before he remembered. There was something else. "Ah yes, for thoroughness sake, a brief report on anything that pertains to this case, Roy, or Miss Harper at the end of each night. It can be a sentence or two if there is not much to report, but I would like to stay abreast on any goings-ons, if i may request that of you," Nelson asked in passing, not wanting to bog their progress down with too much paperwork.

"Apart from that, I believe she has been left waiting long enough? I will oversee the interview from security," Nelson said as he opened the door for Dean and lead him to the interview room. Eyes were following them now, they seemed like a mis-matched pair, the lumbering FBI agent and the officer some saw as a rookie, but nobody dared stop them. When they arrived at the small interrogation room, Dahlia had already gotten on good rapports with Nelson's partner, Agent Demas, who was red in the face from laughing at a limerick by time Nelson and Dean arrived. Quickly, the younger agent hushed himself and nodded his head respectfully to the two men.

"I'll be outside if there's anything you require, officer, sir," Agent Demas paid respect to both Dean and Nelson, and would have tipped his hat to Dahlia had he been wearing one. "Miss," he bode her farewell, and Dahlia returned his courtesy with a smile.

"Agent," Dahlia aid coyly as the man slinked out, leaving her with Dean and Nelson, to whom she grinned at coyly. "Welcome back Agent Van Bly, Dean Reyez. I'm ready to answer any and every question you have for me."

 

[Nav]

"A brief, daily report. Of course. That wouldn't be a problem." The small packet of contract papers felt marginally heavier than all of the briefcase. He kept tumbling around what Nelson had said… read it twice. Without his signature, Dean knew he could go backwards and return to where he had been. He could leave Nelson and Dahlia both behind to figure things out on their own and he could return to the K-9 unit of his local chapter. He looked down to Marco. It would be easier that way, he supposed. He knew the job. He knew how to walk up and down the airport terminals, beat streets, or inspect suspicious cars at the department's request, and he was damn good at it; he and Marco were a damn good team.

It would be easier; it would be safer. He wouldn't have to have some strange, wild girl in his apartment, he wouldn't have to go hunting down some drug ring-lord or worry he may end up in a bad situation as a result. He could just go back to a job he knew how to do and knew he loved, but there was that small, damnable voice that kept whispering to him incessantly. Sighing as they walked along, Dean quietly slipped the contract papers into the briefcase until later. For now, all he had to worry about was the interview. Later, he could think about whether or not the offer was truly something he wanted to move forward with. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts he didn't even bother to notice the eyes and the subtle raises of eyebrows on people's faces as they strolled past.

Stepping into the interview room, the mood seemed to immediately somber. While the agent seemed keen on choking on his own tongue in his laughter, Dean's face was as serious and stone-faced as it ever was. There wasn't even a whiff of humour anywhere in him, and he made it painfully clear that it would stay that way. Whether her joking was a coping mechanism or whether the realization of her situation just hadn't sunken in yet, Dean wasn't sure. All he knew was that she likely wouldn't be smirking and laughing at the end of the day.

Her readiness—and almost eagerness—to get to the interview made him wonder if she understood how the interviews worked at all. They were a grueling process in which every intimate part of her life would be ripped open. There would be no secrets, no hidden embarrassments… any and all parts of Dahlia's life would be bare for them, and eventually the courts, to see. Quietly settling down in to one of the chairs opposing Dahlia, Dean laced his fingers lazily together over the table while Marco situated himself lying at his feet.

"Very well, may you please state your name and date of birth for the record, please?" If they had bonded at any point the day before, it didn't show in Dean's expression or tone of voice. He was a serious working man, through and through. "And before we begin with any more specific questions, why don't you tell us your story from the beginning. That way, we can have an overview of everything that has happened." Truthfully, Dean didn't know her side of the story from cover to cover and figured that may be a good place for him to start. It was hard to ask questions when he didn't know really what he was asking about.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia could tell that the Dean she was speaking to know may be entirely different to the Dean she was teasing a day earlier. She and the junior agent had shared a laugh, but now the time for laughter was over. It was obvious that Dahlia was now craving those moments of laughter, and pleasure. Her joking with Officer Reyez hadn't gone over well thus far; sure he may have smirked once or twice, but talking to him was different. Distance and coldness made it decidedly more awkward for Dahlia to function in a partnership, which is why she had tried her best to be honest and open with Dean.

"Good morning Dean." Dahlia greeted Dean again as if their whole exchange in the morning hadn't taken place. She ignored the urge to yawn and rub her eyes, instead maintaining steady eye contact and the ghost of her coy smirk. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" Dahlia teased, squinting her eyes and giggling. Nelson realized at this point that the interview had already began, and Miss Harper just seemed to be an unconventional interviewee. With a sharp nod towards Dean, Nelson made sure to get to the security room before the interview began. As Dean asked his first question, Nelson tuned in.

"Well." Dahlia began and broke off almost immediately. She made it obvious her playful attitude from before had vanished, and met Dean with a deadpan expression, not a hint of her normal, bubbly self. "As you already know, my name is Dahlia Jayne Harper, with a "Y" in Jayne. I was born December twenty-seventh, nineteen eighty-nine, which means I am currently twenty-seven years young." Dahlia was curt and concise in her response, keeping her eyes pointed forward towards the ground, and her hands resting on her leg, to stop it from shaking with nerves.

Despite what she was showing, Dahlia was racked with nerves, she had been since the moment Marco had pointed her out in the airport. The nausea hadn't left her since, but she was getting better at hiding it, in part because she didn't want to be called out by Dean again. She took a deep breath, looking towards the camera before composing herself with her familiar smile, and giggle.

"From the beginning?" Dahlia asked Dean, as the two of them delved into the depths of their interview. She knew this wouldn't be pleasant, and even the first question was an indication. "I will assume you mean from the beginning with Roy, right? Before that probably doesn't matter, does it?" Dahlia asked, somewhat relieved her life until this point didn't matter. Dahlia sat uneasily for a moment, shifting around in her seat and nervously tugging on her tee-shirt.

"Roy, well, he met me in my psychologists office as I've mentioned. He recognized the book I was reading and we started a discussion, it went on until I was called in." Dahlia spoke of the meeting like she still held some fondness, or bitterness that she had yet to accept. "Now, of course I didn't give him my phone number immediately. I at least tried to make sure Roy saw me as more than somebody he could just take home. He knew where he could meet me, and he was back during the next weeks appointment, he said..."

It was now that Dahlia began to clam up just the slightest bit. It had taken this long to adjust simply to the fact she had been arrested. Now everything she was talking about was gone, just a week ago she would have gushed on and on about Roy seeking her out. Now she knew better, she was just another broken victim. "Who cares what he said, he was lying. We saw each other for a month, dinners, shopping trips, jogs, movies. Everything. It was a month in he asked me to join him on a trip, he said it was for business. We hadn't been intimate until then but," Dahlia paused.

"Umm. I'm sorry. I don't know how much you need to know, Dean Reyez," Dahlia said, avoiding eye contact to make sure he couldn't see the pain behind her eyes, or shame. The more she talked about Roy the more stupid she felt, of course it had all been too good to be true. "I haven't been close to many people in life, I only had one boyfriend in high school. I thought I was a better judge of character. I was wrong."

 

[Nav]

When Dahlia giggled, the room was met with an empty silence. The walls, designed to be soundproof, quickly absorbed the sounds of her laughter, leaving an eerie emptiness that followed her own noise. If Dean was even the slightest bit amused, it didn't show, because even the corners of his lips didn't tilt in her direction. His expression remained neutral, as it usually did: suspended with precisions in the middle-ground between a frown and a scowl. Though he didn't look particularly menacing in the moment, it was impossible to ignore his seriousness. He wasn't there to joke and tease with Dahlia that day—or ever, really.

Thankfully, Dahlia seemed to get the hint and she settled into a more serious demeanor (which suited Dean so much more) and began to answer his questions. He couldn't help but note that even when serious, she was spirited. Everything from her tone of voice to her syntax was just… playful, even when her expression seemed to be much more straight-laced than normal. She had a terrible poker face, he decided quietly to himself. No wonder Roy had pursued her; she was the perfect target: she couldn't hide her emotions particularly well. Once he had gotten his hooks into her, he had known it. The man had entirely and completely taken advantage of her.

He felt bad—truly. He felt a great deal of sympathy for the young woman, but he knew sympathy wouldn't help her. She needed someone who was going to be able to work and work hard for her, as she wouldn't be able to catch Roy on her own. Cautiously, and subconsciously, he found his eyes moved to the briefcase where his unsigned contract had been stashed. Certainly, that person couldn't be him, could it? He was a rookie with a good dog. Realizing he was getting lost in his own thoughts, he quickly blinked and returned to reality.

"Miss Harper," he began once she had concluded, "I assure you that when you find yourself saying things like 'probably doesn't matter,' those are likely the pieces that matter the most. It is critical we figure out exactly what Roy has been saying to women—women like you—to convince them to trust him so quickly and entirely. The more we know about how he ticks, the more likely we are to catch him." There was a good chance that Roy could be a married man: he could have a wife, kids, a nice house somewhere. Every little bit of information Dahlia could give them, even if those things might have seemed irrelevant at the time, could draw them closer to who Roy truly was.

"The fact of the matter is that we care a lot about what he said and how he said it. I need to know everything—I need to know what he said and how you felt about it. Things that might have seemed small at the time—things he said that maybe seemed strange to you, or things he did that were unusual—are all going to be incredibly important. More important than the big details, do you understand?" His tone wasn't chastising, in fact, it was probably the gentlest he had spoken to her since they had met. "Tell me about the day you met. What was he doing? Did he look like he was waiting for an appointment? Was he looking at everyone in the room? If it helps, close your eyes and remember the room—what did you smell? Hear? Was it hot? Cold?"

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Honestly, Dahlia thought that Dean was just being a bit dramatic when he spoke about their interview, after all how bad could words be? She had already been arrested, cavity checked for narcotics, and even now she still ran the risk of spending the next twenty years in jail. They were words, simple words; but Dean was even more serious today than he had been since he met her, (that was possible!?) She knew he wasn't simply being dramatic when he met her up-beat laughter with a face as hard as stone. Okay, that was fair, but Dahlia had no idea how deep the interview would be prodding.

"Wait. No, really?" Dahlia was taken quite off guard when Dean pedaled back, asking her the question she had fervently tried to side-step, the question about intimacy. For one of the few times in her life, Dahlia found herself in an absolute loss for words. She shrunk, and her face went pale except for her rosy cheeks, she broke all eye contact with Dean and for a moment, it seemed like she could have been in a catatonic state. "I don't normally talk about that sort of thing, you see."

Dahlia was mortified. She had spent most of her life with almost everybody thinking she was entirely asexual, even her sister couldn't bring up boys before hitting a brick wall. Now she was expected to dish on it with a stranger? Worse yet, a stranger who didn't seem to think much of her in the first place. Dahlia flashed in a pleading look to Dean behind barely watering eyes that seemed to shout "please don't make me," but she knew what had to be done, and swallowed her pride. She made herself as small as possible, and picked at her nails when she started up again.

"Okay. I'm sorry," Dahlia excused herself as she took a deep breath, trying to retain at least an ounce of her confidence. The thought of Roy having a family, and her being a home-wrecker stung Dahlia even more. "He wasn't too much older than me, maybe five or seven years or so. He has this way about him, a gentleness that I had never seen in a man before. He paid attention to everything I said, even when I was rambling or being ridiculous, he was always patient. He hugged me when I needed it. He was everything a girl like me would look for," Dahlia said almost beginning to mumble before clearing her throat, and facing Dean with a pained expression.

"The first time we were, uh, together I kinda, freaked out? I guess you'd say. Intimacy, I have troubles with it. I've never seen a man so wrought with guilt before, he thought he had hurt me, he apologized profusely, I told him it was my fault. It is my fault. I wasn't comfortable, but I tried anyways. But he knew I was broken right? Fuck. I'm sorry." Dahlia felt like this was some humiliating bad dream, and didn't even apologize for her cussing this time, it had to come out. She wiped her eyes and forced a phony smile before she locked eyes with Dean again.

"It was cold, it smelled like crisp linen, my psychologist takes pride in her work space. Roy, he and I were the only people there at the time, we were both early for a one-thirty appointment, we were double-booked by accident. When we began talking he insisted that he reschedule, and that I go in first. I guess it was his accent that caught my ear first, Irish, the way he spoke, the way he acted, he was absolutely inviting by all means. In fact, he was the last person I would have ever expected to be a criminal. He dressed modestly. He was almost kinda, childish in a way? He'd throw his head back when he laughed, he'd wink at me after all of his silly puns. He said he liked my spunk. Maybe I kinda liked his spunk too."

It was then that Dahlia went pensive, grinning about some memory that was a million miles away and had all been a lie anyways. A lie, which meant everything Roy said to her was probably a lie. There came a point where Dahlia couldn't stop a few stray tears from running down her face, but she wasn't trying to hide it, and kept on trying to smile anyways. "I told him everything about myself. My past, what made me who I am, none of it scared him away. He seemed proud to be seen with me, most of the time," Dahlia shook her head and shifted around uncomfortably in her seat. "Sometimes he would cancel on me last minute, or leave in the middle of a date, he said he worked at an accounting firm and I didn't want to scare him away by getting upset. I could never get mad at him. Stupid huh? That's probably how he planned to screw me over. This probably all sounds ridiculous to you, doesn't it? Evy always told me I was a little ridiculous, but hey, it takes all types?" Dahlia said gently, despite the fact she was crying on the outside she still tried to stay positive, to get this over with as fast as possible.

 

[Nav]

Most of what she said meant little to him. He acknowledged her words, but he focused more on what slipped between the cracks: the small little things that perhaps Dahlia didn't even know she was saying, like his Irish accent. He could have been Irish, or it could have been a front. Either way, it was a valuable piece of information because she even said so herself: I guess it was his accent that caught my ear first. Lacing his fingers together across the table, Dean gently tapped his thumbs together as he thought. His brows were scrunched together, creating a wrinkle of skin between his eyes.

There was no time or latitude to worry about her tears. She cried, but it was like Dean didn't even notice. He didn't have the capacity to do so. This was his job and his job was, at least until he decided whether or not to sign that little piece of paper, was to work for Dahlia as hard as he could. Sure, consoling her might have been instant gratification, but reassuring wouldn't keep her out of prison. "Is that why you went to a therapist? For your past?" Dean knew he was being privy to her personal information, but the more he could learn about Dahlia, the more he could learn about Roy.

As they talked, Dean continued to form a mental image of Roy's character. Next, Dahlia would likely be sent to a criminal artist to have a picture of him sketched from her memory, but he was less worried about what the man looked like as he was what made him tick. Never before had he heard of a criminal picking up women in a therapist's office. Sure, most criminals looking to exploit people tried to find those they thought were 'broken' or had low self-esteem, but most went to bars or clubs, where they could snipe the women who were a little less assuming: overweight, drunk, sloppy. By comparison, Dahlia was quite beautiful and well-put together compared to many women in similar situations he had worked with in the past. It wasn't meant to be insulting, merely truth.

It was her comment about him seeming to be 'proud to be seen with me' that caught his attention in that regard. It seemed he was an incredibly proud and self-conscious man about how he appeared to others.

"You said he had mentioned working for an accounting firm. Did he tell you more about that? The name of the business or any of his associates? Where his office was?" He paused a moment, "Normal people often complain about their jobs or co-workers to their friends and significant others, did he ever do that with you? Do you remember him ever complaining about someone? Something? Did the mention of work ever seem to stress him or did he ever try and discourage you from bringing it up?"

He couldn't help but reflect on his own past relationships. It was so easy for him to be able to point out red flags when he was looking at other people because he could remain objective, but he understood how Dahlia got to where she had, at least to some degree. Emotions were intense, difficult to cope with things that clouded judgement. In his own life, Dean could point out more than a few instances where he said 'that won't happen to me.' Maybe he hadn't ever gotten arrested because of an ex, but he certainly had collected his fair share of grief and betrayal. Especially when it had come to the matter of Sarah.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

"Yes." Dahlia's answer was swift and almost snappy when it came to the question about her therapy sessions, she immediately got defensive and met Dean's look sternly. "Because of my past, is all. There were trying times in my past, I probably shouldn't have opened up to Roy. But it is not relevant." Dahlia would open up, but only to such a degree, she felt some things would be a waste of both of their time. There was an awkward pause that hung in the air, Dahlia looked frustrated but didn't let it interfere with her questioning.

"He never complained about his job, ever. He was never negative about anything, really." Dahlia got back on track with her arms crossed, trying to hide the fact she was covered in goosebumps despite the warmth in the room. "I suppose I may have been a little selfish, he listened to everything I said. Every time I asked him about himself, he'd give short answers though, he never wanted to talk too much. His parents were from Dublin, so he claimed. He moved to The United States fifteen years ago, Chicago only five years."

Dahlia didn't have to think hard to remember everything she knew about Roy, but the more she remembered the more she began to realize he had been mysterious, or secretive, it was bloody obvious why now. Cringing at the very idea that she ever trusted him, Dahlia's hand slipped, and she dug a little too deeply into her nail. "Ouch!" Dahlia shouted, realizing she had simultaneously broken her nail and drawn blood. She quickly, and sheepishly wrapped up her thumb in her pink cat shirt, which she prayed wouldn't stain. "I'm sorry," Dahlia said quietly, looking back down towards her feet.

"So yeah. I guess he did kind of discourage it, it wasn't like he enjoyed talking about work and himself. I assumed he had a difficult life like myself, which is why he was seeing a therapist like myself, but I would never suggest that," Dahlia said. She knew it took some longer to open up than others, she hadn't wanted Roy thinking she was judging him. Fuck. He had probably been judging her the whole time, rubbing his bastard hands together at how easy of a score she had been for him.

"Roy went to church with me too, it's where he met my sister. I was raised Catholic, but the Lord and I aren't on very good terms right now," Dahlia said in faux amusement, nearly forgetting she was speaking with Dean. "Roy said he was a Catholic, I tried to adjust for him and go to Church on Sundays, but he seemed out of place there, you know? Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Do you think so? Dean Reyez, you could ask me to remember for hours and hours on end, I hope you know that I could take up all the time in the world. Let me know if I'm reading into something too much," Dahlia asked softly. She wasn't her normal spunky self, at the moment, she was more exhausted than anything. One more thought popped into her mind though, and Dahlia leaned forward in her chair.

"I, uh. I drew a picture of him, if that would be any help, I've been drawing since I was a little girl so I like to think I have some artistic ability. When I get to go back home, I'd be happy to show it to you."

 

[Nav]

"On the contrary," Dean quickly corrected without raising his voice, "Everything about you, Miss Harper, is incredibly relevant. If, at any time, you wish to discontinue this interview, you are legally allowed to do so." He didn't need to tell her what sort of repercussions came with stopping the interview; he knew they both knew. If she felt her past was too private to be shared, then she could very well be going to jail, perhaps for near the rest of her life. The crimes stacking against her were incredibly serious and there was no tricking a judge out of them, but Dean was also aware he probably didn't need to remind her of that.

Despite her argument that 'it wasn't important,' Dean was quite curious about her past, but held off on asking about it for a moment. He did wonder, however, if Dahlia shared a past with the other victims. It seemed unlikely that Roy was targeting them only for their red hair, which caused him to wonder if there was something even more appealing about them to him on a more personal level. During his brief stint on the homicide investigation team, he had spent a lot of time studying murderer patterns—picking targets and how and why they picked who they did. Sometimes, it was just physical traits, but there was usually something more to a murderer's choice than looks. He couldn't imagine a fraudster would be any different.

He got so wrapped up in these thoughts and considering the timeline—Dublin, fifteen years ago to the US, five years ago to Chicago—that he didn't even seem to notice she had yelped in pain. Instead, he was considering some possibilities. If he had been truthful (though Dean doubted it) that he had come from Dublin, it would give them a place to start.

Leaving the conversation about her past for a later time, though making a mental note that it would be brought up again in the near future, Dean allowed Dahlia some leeway. They had enough to begin piecing stuff together, but if she was thinking this was the worst it would get, she was in for a rude awakening. Once they investigation really got going, police and detectives would be scouring every inch of her person: her belongings, her past, her present… if she thought she could hide her past because it 'wasn't relevant,' she was incredibly wrong. It wasn't with great pride he had to acknowledge that… going through every blip of someone's life was a terrible thing to have to do, but it's what had to be done.

…Assuming he agreed to sign the contract. He was more unsure than ever.

"That would be very helpful, yes, but…" he paused a moment to clear his throat and adjust himself, looking back to Dahlia, "Miss Harper, you're not going back to your apartment. Criminals like Roy had a tendency to become violent or flighty when posed with a risk. If he knows you are a free woman working for the police, it stands to reason he might try and lash out to hurt someone close to you, or flee the country. You will be placed into witness protection and your family and friends will be alerted to your arrest."

"You'll have protective services during that time, but for all extensive purposes, everyone needs to believe you are in prison. We will have you make a list of your belongings so one of our officers can retrieve them from your apartment."

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia felt like she was being teased. She knew that she could end the interview whenever she wanted, but what would that prove? It would definitely prove to Dean that she was a coward, and it would prove to both Dean and Agent Van Bly that she probably didn't care too much about her freedom, and that was just not true. Everything about her? Most people probably didn't want to know everything about her, not even she wanted that. Unfortunately, the way the world worked as that she did know everything about herself, and so did Roy. It seemed Dean would too in a moment. "Okay." Dahlia took a deep breath, confronting herself. For a second it looked like she was on the verge of another break-down, but after a moment, she met Dean's eyes soberly.

"I was twelve years old, my uncle ravaged me," Dahlia began, doing her best to hide her face from Dean, which was difficult seeing as she was sitting right across from him. "I was pregnant, for a bit, then I wasn't, my mama took me to a clinic and made sure of it. They made a mistake though, my insides were damaged, and I'll never carry a child again. I know my father let it happen, too." Dahlia got progressively colder while she explained it, but didn't cry. "In high school, what happened to me, my past, it got out somehow. Everyone knew," Dahlia paused and her eye twitched. "Everyone. Some boys I guess decided to see if it was true, I was assaulted again at seventeen, ten years ago next week, actually. I remember all of it."

From another room, Nelson began to feel sick as he watched the woman tell her story. He scrawled some short-handed notes, and faced the screen again. Miss Harper appeared to have found some resolve, she was unblinking.

"So I became our grad class valedictorian," Dahlia continued, this time beginning with a point of pride. "'Be honest and true boys, whatever you do boys, let this be your motto through life.' I was speaking to everybody, but I was mostly speaking to the boys who hurt me. I forgave them, but they have to live forever with what they did, and I think that's worse than anything I could do to them. Don't you think?" Dahlia asked Dean pointedly. It felt strange to be discussing such things here, but the more she spoke the less ashamed she felt. She wasn't looking for pity, pity was the last thing she wanted. She failed to mention how the class probably made her valedictorian because they felt bad for her, but she never let that bother her.

"Unfortunately, that made me what I am today. I'm glad with how far I've come though, it just bothers me when people make assumptions," Dahlia thinned her eyes at Dean semi-jokingly, for he had been the one to call her spoiled. "I let myself get wide-eyed and excited when I met Roy, I thought I met somebody who wasn't going to let me down. Honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised." Dahlia was bitter talking about Roy, she should have guarded her heart more, like Evelyn, but Dahlia could never be like Evelyn, Dahlia still wanted to be happy. For a second she was proud of herself, that she had fessed up to everything without shedding a tear, but that momentary joy was gone.

"Y-you mean. I don't get to go home?" Dahlia quickly shot Dean a pleading gaze, a mix of disappointment and worry shooting through her body. "But, but, protective services? You'll be telling my mama? My sister? What about my bosses?" Dahlia knew this was all for her own safety, but she couldn't ignore how Goddamn inconvenient it was, but she knew Dean probably wasn't going to hear any of her complaining. But she had one request that she wasn't going to let wait.

"My kitten, Shoe. I have to see him Dean, I have to. He's everything to me, you've seen perfectly well that I can't sleep without him!" Dahlia insisted, she wasn't about to make it forty-eight hours with no sleep. No, this was something she wasn't going to budge on. "Please tell me you can bring him to me, he's all I need I promise. I'll do anything." As Dahlia continued to plead, Nelson found some minor amusement in how adamant Miss Harper was about the cat. But he'd leave this one up to Dean, if the young Officer could stand a furball in his house, God speed to him.

 

[Nav]

It was an unfortunate girl in an unfortunate situation, that's what Dean ultimately decided. Her story was tragic, but he seemed entirely unfazed by it. How many times had he heard it before? Or some variation of it? He wasn't trying to imply that Dahlia was a liar, not by any means, but there were lots of young women who ran on the wrong side of the law with the same, or very similar, stories. He had stood by as he watched dozens of young women and men being arrested for drug abuse, use, and distributing as they pleaded with their lives—poverty, rape, abuse.

He wondered at what point he had become so immune to it. He wondered when he had been detached enough to be able to hold a straight face as a person in front of him unlaced with their horrific stories of the past. There had been a time, when he first started on the force, where such tales would spook him. He'd go home and he'd drink to try and forget about it. The drinking never helped. In fact, it usually made it worse. At some point, some time he couldn't remember, he made a choice to become sober… and cold. Over time, he had forced himself to completely compartmentalize everything. Dean Reyez was a tragedy in that he had taught himself to think instead of feel, but that's what the job required him to do. He couldn't be emotional in an interview or out on the street.

He couldn't be emotional when he had a split second to decide on whether or not to take someone down, with a gun or with Marco. For such a young man to be so jaded and emotionless, he was a tragedy all his own.

He listened to her last statements but didn't give comment. Whatever he was thinking was reserved entirely for him, and him alone, but it was clear the gears were turning behind his eyes. Her story gave him a clearer picture of who Roy was and why he did what he did. Parts made sense, others still eluded him but he internally reminded himself he hadn't even signed the contract yet. As such, he didn't allow himself to get too far ahead with anything.

"No, miss Harper, you don't get to go home, unfortunately. We believe it's for your best interest and safety, as well as those around you. Until this case comes to a close, everyone you know must believe you've been arrested. We will take it upon ourselves to inform your closest relatives and your employment." Of course she brought up the damn cat again. A sigh possessed him. He hated cats and, worst of all, he was painfully allergic to them. Sneezing, hacking, a swollen face… the whole nine yards.

"I will pick up your cat. If he stays in my apartment, you should know I'm extremely allergic to them. Until you have your own protective housing, he stays in a crate for my own well-being and his. No cats on the furniture." He looked down to Marco sitting on the floor next to him, knowing the dog wouldn't take kindly to any little creature encroaching on his turf.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Now, Dahlia wasn't at all upset by Dean's complete lack of emotion, hell at this point she would have been surprised if he had reacted. His detachment did make her sad though, sad on Dean's own behalf. Dahlia had seen the effects that that sort of coldness had on a human, her sister, her mother, her father; her family was all but lost, and Dahlia would never go down that road. She was also the type of girl who couldn't read the news for the care and woe it brought her, so it was simple to see why compassion was ranked so highly among human qualities for her.

"Remember, when you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. Friedrich Nietzsche." Dahlia said politely with a crooked grin, thinking the quote had a perfect place to fill the silence. She pondered on whether Dean would get the point, but knew he wouldn't react regardless. She felt sad for Dean Reyez, which was strange because normally she was busy feeling sad for herself when she thought about the past. It got her thinking about him, she knew he lived alone, had it always been that way? Had he always been so shut off?

Digging deeper into the well of her own mind, Dahlia didn't find any point in arguing or griping any further, and sat with a complacent expression as Dean further explained how they would be contacting her employers and family. On one hand, it would be awkward, maybe even shameful, but what could she do now? There was a bright side though, her boss at the Parrot Cage could be a real jerk, she didn't want to give the news herself. But Evelyn, she couldn't go away without speaking to her sister, her other half.

Dahlia wanted to ask about her one phone call (since she had been "arrested," right?0, and she certainly wasn't going to forget about it, but she was surprised enough when Dean agreed to keep Shoe in the apartment. Dahlia put her hand against her chest and sighed, thank God she would get to see him soon. She nodded her head in quick succession to all of Dean's demands.

"Don't worry, I'm allergic to cats too," Dahlia admitted nonchalantly, years of coping with the creatures meant her allergies had all but vanished though. "No cats on the furniture, keep him in his cage, got it!" Dahlia said, straightening out her back in her seat and shimmying in excitement. After finding out that Shoe would be back in her life, the pure little angel that he was, Dahlia could hardly think of what else she would need.

"I suppose I won't require much else. I don't have very many things," Dahlia said as she tapped her chin. "My sketchbook is in my nightstand, there's a picture of Roy I drew in there. Umm, also, if it's not too much to ask, I have pictures of me and my sister everywhere. I would love to have one of them with me, from when we were younger. Is that okay?" Dahlia asked. Sure there were plenty more things she wanted, her guitar, her books, her fish, but she was already quite shy about asking Dean for anything.

"Well, I'm certain this will not be our last interview, but is this where our first one comes to a close? If not, I am your open book." Dahlia was a little less scared now that she had poured her guts out, but also a little less spunky and energetic. Personally, she was getting sick of this room.

 

[Nav]

If she was trying to be smart and insightful, Dean didn't care. He didn't care how much she quoted philosophy and poetry at him, he still harbored a strong dislike for poetry. Unfortunately, the most recent quote out of her mouth was a piece of philosophy he had read once back in college, and it caused his eyes to close briefly, "are you attempting to call me a monster, Miss Harper?" he asked with all seriousness. The quote was just enough to tip him in a new direction and he finally realized that, despite how tempting the offer had been, he didn't want the job.

He felt bad for the girl in front of him, there was no doubting that, but the number of times she felt inclined to personally insult him and slight him in any way she could really lacked an appeal. One more night in his apartment and she could go on to be someone else's problem. More than anything, all he wished to do was to go back to his routine work with his dog. It was work he knew well, it was work he enjoyed. It was Dahlia who left a bitter taste in his mouth, as she had done nothing but attempt to remind him that she believed she was a better human being than he was. And that was fine.

Perhaps it was even true. Many criminals had attempted to tell police they were smarter, better, and stronger than they were, and it didn't bother Dean. He was even inclined to believe on certain occasions that perhaps the criminals were even right—they were stronger, smarter, or better—but he didn't feel particularly inclined to help someone who felt the need to call him a monster, no matter how underhanded and disguised the quote may have been. Perhaps it was slightly petty, but there was someone better out there who could help Dahlia.

"Make a list and your list will be retrieved from your apartment to the best of our abilities," he explained. I'll get you a pen and paper in just a second." They didn't usually allow pens in the interview room for more obvious reasons, but something told him Dahlia wasn't going to take it and lunge across the table to shove a pen in an officer's neck. "Spend a few moments thinking about what you absolutely need to survive—no furniture or anything of the sort. Unfortunately, most electronic devices like laptops and cellphones will also not be permitted on account that they can be easily tracked online. So, medications, clothes, personal items… think along that line. Pictures are fine, yes."

Dean figured she'd be smart enough to understand what was and was not acceptable, but they'd review her list quickly before finalizing it, anyways.

"We are done for now, yes," Her replies would be enough information to get an investigation team started, at least. Dean could hand over everything he had learned on her, she could go to a protective home, and someone with more gumption could take her case to help her while he went back to what he and Marco did best: catching the criminals. He glanced down to his dog, who looked up and wagged his tail once or twice. The highly trained dog was going to waste in an interview room. The Chicago PD couldn't afford to lose such a good dog, right? And Dean couldn't even think of giving Marco up.

"I'll get you some pen and paper," he stood, and Marco leapt up so they could slip out of the interview room for just a moment, just long enough to grab a notepad and a pen for Dahlia.

 

[Wooseog Ryu]

Dahlia didn't realize the weight of what she had said until Dean responded, rightfully bitter and unamused. By no means did Dahlia wish to call the young man a monster, that was just not true, however she didn't feel like she could relent. There was some truth in what she said.

"No!" Dahlia quickly made it known that she didn't view him as a monster, quite the opposite really. "I'm sorry, no, that's not what I meant at all," Dahlia said assuredly, quickly trying to find the best way to pedal back. Dahlia hadn't pegged Dean as one who would get offended by words, but then again Dahlia had never had a snide young woman questioning her every turn. She looked at Marco for a bit of emotional support, then back up at Dean again.

"You remind me of my sister, Dean. Everything about you, quite frankly. Your black hair, your stoic expression, your dutifulness. I've almost called you Evelyn about twenty times," Dahlia began to explain, "And my sister is not a monster." Dahlia avoided looking at Dean when she talked about her sister, because too much of what she was saying felt true to her, and it only made her miss Evy more, but Dahlia had insulted the Officer, never had that been her intention. "She is simply so, so, so unhappy. She's a person who has spent her entire life building walls, President Trump would love her." Dahlia tried to break the tension the teensiest bit with some humor, but her timing had always left something to be desired, she shrugged.

"What I meant to say, Dean Reyez, is that I hope you don't lose yourself in everything. Life is undeniably cruel as I'm sure you know, and I always remind my sister when she tries to harden her heart that it's the hard things that break." Dahlia lowered her head, offering Dean a sheepish, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I called you a monster. I was being stupid. The only monster is Roy, and I guess he's the one I should be saving my comments for, I'll be good." Dahlia conceded with her hand outstretched as a peace offering. Dahlia knew that she talked too much, and sometimes said the wrong thing, but she felt awful whenever she hurt anybody, no matter how slight, and especially if they were trying to help her.

And now the interview was done. At the start of the day Dahlia had high hopes that that meant going home, seeing her family and sleeping in her own bed, but now just getting out of that stuffy interview room was enough to claim a win. She took the moment alone to do a quick inventory of her apartment before Dean arrived back with the pen and paper, "thank you," Dahlia said. When she began to write, there was a knock at the door. Nelson waited outside with the regrettable news that the young Agent Demas had been called away due to a family emergency, now it would be up to them to gather the items from Miss Harper's apartment. Nelson had missed the last exchange between Dean and Dahlia but that might have been for the best, Dahlia was still red in the face from that one.

 

[Nav]

"Mmm," Dean let what she said brew and bubble away in his mind for a while, considering it. Was he unhappy? He wouldn't have said so. He had an amazing partner, he made good money, he had a good job, he had a decent enough apartment. He certainly wasn't starving for food and water like many across the globe. Did that make him happy? He couldn't really be sure. Dean had never pursued happiness like many did. He had never gone after the two story home, the wife, the kid, and the white picket fence with a Labrador. That's what happy people always seemed to have, right?

Except Dave from accounting had all that and he cheated on his wife with Alice from the traffic force. "I find it interesting that you're worrying so much about others, but not nearly as much as yourself," he remarked in a bland tone. It wasn't accusatory or unfriendly, just stated like he was reading from a scientific paper. It interested him, as most people he had seen in such a situation wouldn't ever stop to think about someone else. They were so desperate for their own situation, it was all they could see. Dahlia, on the other hand, seemed only able to see others. Her own situation seemed nearly irrelevant to herself, as if she wasn't sure whether it was OK or not for her to feel bad about the hand she had been dealt.

She was an interesting woman, that Dahlia Harper.

As their interview wrapped up, Nelson stepped in with the unfortunate news. Of course, without letting it appear on his face, Dean allowed a mental eye-roll to occur. He decided to keep it to himself a while longer that he had decided not to take Dahlia's case. For now, she just needed someone to fetch her things. Dean hated knowing he was going to have to be the person to do it, but he knew there was no chance in hell that Nelson was going to go apartment snooping for the young lady.

"Alright," Dean scratched a hand through his curls and pushed a few of them back and away from his face. "I'll take you to my apartment, Miss Harper. After which, I can head to your apartment and pick up your list. Oh, make sure you try and right down where things might be on that list. This ain't a damn Easter egg hunt." He really didn't want to spend an hour looking for something in her bedroom when it was actually in her living room. "Keep working on the list and I'll take it when I drop you off."

He already had her address, finding her actual apartment would be the easy bit. They had even already confiscated her keys during the search and follow-up, so he would already be given everything he'd need. "And where is your cat staying, anyways? With a neighbor, I think you mentioned? Can you write down her phone number? I'm going to give her a call to tell her what happened and that I'm coming to retrieve the animal."