The Runt of the Litter

Virtually Nobody

Note: Okay, it's LONG. Like, REALLY long. This is much more of a case fic than anything I've published so far. It's about 20k words and I know some of you may find that annoying but I couldn't find a good place to split it to do two parts. So I apologize if the length of this is inconvenient. Please let me know what you think of it as it's my first real case-like fic even if it's not formatted like cases in the show usually are. I started writing it about a month ago and it's been slow going because I wanted it to be good. I did take some liberties with the mythology here to make it fit the story. Without further ado, Anna is eleven in this chapter. Enjoy.

Virtually Nobody

"Sheriff." Jody Mills turned at the voice greeting her. She'd only just stepped through the doors of the station and here she was being called to action. She met eyes with Johnson, one of her better officers. "Brought in a runaway," he said, his expression grim. "And she ain't a happy camper."

Jody's eyebrows popped up of their own accord. Runaways weren't common in Sioux Falls but they'd seen a few lost kids before. She had no clue what to expect. On top of that, Johnson made it sound like the kid was angry, maybe fighting them a lot. "How old?" she asked, setting down the coffee she'd picked up while on patrol.

Johnson shook his head. "Ten," he said. "Eleven maybe."

Jody frowned and made her way over to him so he could show her this kid. "You sure you're not guessing wrong?"

"I know," he said. "Awfully young for a runaway, Sheriff, but I swear she can't be more than twelve at the oldest."

"Maybe she's not a runaway," Jody answered, already thinking through several possible scenarios. She turned the corner past Johnson and headed for the cells. "You locked her up?" she asked. "Or is she in the interrogation room?"

"She's in a cell. I didn't want to, Sheriff, but she wouldn't stop fightin'."

"I understand," Jody said, all business. "Was she hurt at all?" she asked, coming to stand in front of the cell. The girl was small and Jody had to wonder if she was even ten or eleven. She'd pulled her feet up onto the small bench in the cell and buried her face in her knees. She had dirty blonde hair that hung in tangled curls over her legs and down her back. Her canvas jacket was torn on one side and there were several small rips in the right leg of her jeans. She was covered in a layer of dust, and on one hand was a long, shallow scratch.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff, but every time we tried to get a look at her, she got spooked. We were just scaring her, so we stopped trying." He paused. "She's got a scratch on her hand, though."

"That's alright," Jody said, noticing the apology in the officer's voice. "Get the first aid kit from the front. I'll see what I can do."

Johnson started to go then turned back around. "Should warn you... she hasn't spoken a word."

Jody frowned but waved for him to go get the first aid kit. She knew there were a lot of possible reasons for a child to refuse speaking. It was possible, of course, that she really couldn't speak and was mute. But there was also the chance that this was a trauma response. Then, she could be familiar with this situation and have a dislike for cops which led her to play mouse. But Jody was fairly certain this kid was just scared if the way the little girl was shaking meant anything.

"I'm gonna open the door," she said gently, being sure to smile softly so that if the girl looked up, she wouldn't feel threatened. "Since you're not really a prisoner." Jody eased the door open with a squeak from the hinges and stepped into the cell, stopping when she was a few feet from the bench where the girl was sitting. "If something happened to you, if somebody hurt you, all you have to do is tell us. We'll help you, get you back to your home, your family."