[b][center][h2]Paige Kennedy[/h2][/center][/b]

[I]US Marshal Service Annex - City Hall - Hours Later[/i]

“Paige, I just want you to know I was almost certain you weren't a cop killer.” Art, her Chief Deputy, said sarcastically as they took the elevator up to the Marshal Service office space. 

“Almost.” Paige replied. Any other time she would have smirked slyly at the confirmation of her instincts. 

Art laughed, “I wonder where he got that jacket.”

“Probably stole it from the dry-cleaners.” Paige said crossing her arms and looking ahead at the metal doors as they ascended. “Any idea who he was?”

“No I.D. yet, but I'll bet my next check he came from Detroit.” Art said.

“How hard was it getting him up here?” Paige asked, changing the subject. 

“Oh, not hard at all,” Art replied. He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye, but she showed no emotion. In the course of his long career he'd mentored many young deputies with all manner of quirks and habits, though Paige was different and often hard to figure. She wanted trust, but gave little. She wanted friends, but often pissed people off. Still, she was a damn sight sharper than the rest of his staff and had a natural instinct that couldn't be taught. In the few weeks she worked in his office he only observed two real weaknesses that concerned him: her big mouth and the man presently occupying his conference room. “Xi was in the area and picked him up, got him some fresh clothes.”

The elevator doors parted and he looked for any reaction on her face as he spoke. He knew that she was aware he was looking and kept her emotions hidden. From the elevator the view across the office to the conference room was clear to where Milo stood, still handcuffed. Paige started away, but Art grabbed her firmly by the shoulder. For a second, he could see it, the caged emotions hidden behind her face and the glare in her eyes. He held the handcuff keys in front of her and dropped them into her open hand. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office.”

Paige strode across the office. She could feel the eyes of the other deputies and the site staff on her as she walked unable to hide the increase in her pace as she got closer, almost to a jog as she reached for the door. Everyone knew the relationship she had with Milo. They had told her the story of what happened and what SCPD passed along. None of it mattered though. He was [i]alive[/i]. [i]ALIVE![/i] A voice in her mind shouted it above all others. She closed the door behind her quietly and looked at him in the eyes, instantly biting on her lip in a pitiful attempt to keep control of the urge to breakdown in the knowledge that she had just nearly lost him. Everything she bottled up was bursting at the seams in her mind like a pressure cooker. Her eyes were welling up. She [i]wanted[/i] to cry just because it felt like it would [i]feel good[/i] to just let it all out and the urge was beginning to overcome her senses of pride and reason. She forgot about unlocking the cuffed hands in front of him and just fell into his chest gripping him tightly and turning her head, burying the side of her face into his shirt, too embarrassed to let him see her shed a tear, but unwilling to let go of him. 

[@RoccanIronclad]