Mobile Suit Gundam 00 © Sunrise

...

Lyle Dylandy generally didn't have a problem with the world; more often than not, it was the world that had a problem with him. He was a laid-back, easy-going type of guy; a gentleman to the ladies; a bit of a prankster (as younger brothers generally are, no matter if they're younger by a couple of years or a handful of minutes); and a man who did his best to extend a friendly hand to the neighbors. He would mow the lawn for the elderly couple across the street, let the kid next door stay over when his parents yelled and screamed at each other too loudly, and climb a tree in hot pursuit of a stranded cat.

He wasn't sure if he had become a police officer because it was in his nature to help others, or if the job had sparked the interest. Either way, he was well-known: one of the top agents in the field, famed for throwing his life on the line somewhat above and beyond the call of duty in order to nab those idiots trying their damnedest to ruin the lives of as many others as possible, and...yes, he was also notorious for letting the ladies off with a warning when those tears were falling in big, fat drops before he got out of his car and asked for their license and registration. (He blamed it on having a little sister to take care of back home.)

So, generally speaking, Lyle didn't have a problem with the world. His job presented him with hundreds of opportunities to change the way things were, and he always gave it his best. But the day he saw Amy run out of that building, tear-streaked mascara flowing freely through a healthy field of freckles, he knew this world had to change. And he'd be damned if he wasn't the one to do it.

So, with face set and lights on, he set out to make a difference.

...

The first time his sharp eyes spotted that beat-up pickup, he knew there would be no chance for the oily weasel to escape. Officer Dylandy was known for his ruthless, merciless attitude when dealing with stupid motorists, and today there would be no exceptions. This bastard was going down.

Flipping his siren, Lyle ran the grungy pickup to the side of the road. But instead of parking behind him as protocol dictated, Lyle pulled his squad car alongside the truck, rolled down his passenger side window, and waited patiently for the driver to get the picture that he wanted to talk.

"Hey," Lyle called.

"Yes, Officer?" answered the shaky voice of a high school senior, some kid just barely eighteen. His face and knuckles were terror-white, and the nervous tremors of his body were just as visible as the sweat pouring down the sides of his geeky, greasy face.

"You dumped my sister."

"I...excuse me?" the boy asked, blinking rapidly.

"You made her cry," Lyle growled. "My little sister. Amy Dylandy." He spoke slowly so the idiot would get the point of his message.

The boy's eyes widened as he recognized the name of the cop he was messing with. No words came to his mouth, but more sweat ran down his face in growing rivulets, staining a large reservoir across the neck of his green tee-shirt. "I-I'm sorry?" he offered, eyes pleading, voice all but begging.

Lyle stared at him a moment with an icy, unrelenting gaze. With a sigh he replied, "Yes, I suppose you are." Tossing a paper-airplane shaped ticket into the boy's open window, Lyle watched as the kid's eyes followed its brief passage before it was brought down by the dashboard. "And your tags are seriously expired."

With that parting message, Lyle rolled up his window and drove off, watching the truck through his rearview mirror, satisfied smile brightening the rest of his morning.

...

"You're in for some deep shit, man."

"Why? Wha'd I ever do?" Lyle asked, looking from his endless piles of paperwork to the bright grey eyes of a fellow officer. He was back in the office, jacket haphazardly thrown across the back of a swivel chair, tie loosened, hair a mess of frustration-combed curls. He had a cup of cold coffee by the computer, a half-eaten Snickers bar beside it, and a bagged lunch in his bottom desk drawer, compliments of Amy. (Previous experience taught him to keep that drawer locked until he was ready for it, as he had come to find out Amy's sandwiches were awfully popular around here.)

"What do you think you did?" his buddy laughed. "You idiot! The chief's so onto you!"

"The chief?" Lyle asked. "Who the hell told the chief?"

"Nobody! But you went and messed with his son!"

"Aw, shit."

"No kidding!"

"I'm dead," Lyle groaned, wiping a hand across his face.

"Yeah. You're definitely dead. But don't worry; I'll comfort your sister for you when you're gone."

Lyle could have strangled his comrade, but cops didn't fight cops. (You never wanted to not be able to trust the guy who just might save your ass in the next emergency.) So instead he settled for grabbing the other cop by his necktie, bringing their faces close. "Say one more thing," he spat, eyes narrowed and sniper-deadly, "about my sister..."

"Yeah, yeah," the officer laughed. "Got it. Nothing until your bones are cold in the grave."

Lyle released his buddy and cursed the idiot's ass out of his office. The other guy didn't give a damn, plugging his ears and ignoring Lyle as he laughed and laughed. The loud exchange was so incredibly normal that nobody bothered to pay a whit of attention, preferring instead to ignore it altogether with a smile and a nod to the seething, red-faced Irish officer when they next saw him storming beside the water cooler.

...

The chief was an aged man, on the force longer than anybody dared to count. Smart, passionate about his job, and fantastic in the field, up until the point where he had been involved in a drug bust and someone decided to bust him up, instead. He still made for an intelligent, supportive, and well-loved chief, nicknamed "The Legend" by the rookies. He lived up to his massive image with a belly as big as the stories told about him.

"Dylandy," the chief said, pausing in the open doorway of Lyle's disorganized office. "We need to talk."

"Sir?" Lyle asked around a generous bite of a turkey, ham, and cheese croissant-encrusted sandwich.

"Get in my office."

"Yessir," Lyle replied, easy grin set on his face as he shoved the rest of his sandwich back in its protective drawer and followed after the chief, ignoring the looks he got from fellow cops who clearly meant to convey the idea that this was possibly the last time any of them would lay eyes upon his living, breathing body. He made sure to smile and wink as he gave them an attractive last impression.

After the door to the chief's office closed, however, Lyle's nonchalant attitude sobered and he switched his sexy face to that of the mischievous grin he wore whenever one of his siblings busted him and he found himself in a heap of trouble with Mom.

"Sit," commanded the chief. Lyle obediently sat.

"What is this about you harassing my son?"

"Sir?" Lyle asked, feigning ignorance.

"He pissed his pants yesterday."

Lyle tried not to look elated, but he didn't do an entirely convincing job of it.

The chief sighed. "Dylandy, look. You're an excellent cop. The best we've got. But you're pushing your boundaries."

"You mean the whole letting attractive females off with a warning thing? 'Cause I know I'm not the only one who does that."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Right. Then...the speeding with my lights on when there's no emergency so I can be on time to drop my little sister off at softball practice?"

"What?"

"Never mind, Boss," Lyle said, grinning. "I didn't say anything about misusing the city's expensive equipment or abusing my own privileges."

"Look, Dylandy," the chief sighed. "Stop pushing your luck. I keep you because you're talented; there's no disputing that. But ever since your brother left the force..."

Lyle's smile vanished into a tightlipped line as his ice-blue eyes hardened and looked aside.

"...you've been...difficult. Detached."

Lyle sighed. "What do you want me to do, Sir?"

"Just behave yourself, boy. That's all I ask. Behave yourself."

Lyle nodded and left the office, rolling his eyes like Amy did when she was exasperated with her brothers' pointless lectures. With the trademark Dylandy grin fixed back in place, Lyle waved off the inquisitive stares thrown at him by the others. He made his way back to his office and closed the door. He had an appointment with a sandwich that wouldn't wait, and he didn't want to be bothered by further interruptions.

...

"How was work?" Amy asked when Lyle threw his shoes off and settled on the couch with a cold beer. She had been reading those girly fashion magazines of hers on the living room floor with a bowl of Funyuns set off to one side, but looked up excitedly when her older brother came through the door.

"Same's as usual, Ames. Same's as usual."

"I hear you ticketed Mitch."

"Oh? Is that the loser's name?"

"Yeah. The guy who dumped me."

"So you no longer have a date to the prom."

"Nope," she agreed, sighing. "It sucks being dumped. Especially when you're popular."

Lyle took a sip from his beer and patted the seat next to himself. Amy's eyes lit up and she bounced happily over to her brother, cuddling beside him. "I'm a little too old to go with you, aren't I?" he asked, ruffling her frizzy red hair.

"Yep," she replied, trying to snatch the beer from his other hand.

"Hey, hey hey!" he said, holding the can out of her reach. "My beer. Mine! Go get your own if you want one!"

Amy giggled and settled back down, hitting Lyle with a decorative pillow.

He laughed. "Say...do you think they need chaperones?"

"Teachers already do that, I think."

"Think they'd like the idea of having a cop present?"

Amy thought the suggestion over with a smile. "Probably," she said slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "But who's gonna chaperone you? With all those cute teenage girls around and you with no lady of your own?"

"Hey now, that was low!" Lyle said, tickling his sister until she shrieked and tumbled to the floor. "Really, really low!"

Amy laughed and ran away, leaving Lyle to shake his head and speed-dial a pizza for dinner. He made sure it was double pepperoni. Amy didn't like pepperoni.

...

Amy wasn't sure how her brother did it, but there he was, escorting her to her senior prom. He was a chaperone, of course, and not her date, but she still knew she was arriving with the most attractive escort this dance would ever see. Lyle was a flirt; every girl knew it. Some of them would intentionally speed on their way home, flying down the backroads when they knew her brother would be on duty, hoping he'd pull them over and then let them off with a smile and a wink. It was a gamble: You never knew when he'd ticket you and when he wouldn't, but Amy understood the rules of the game; she'd just smile and laugh when she heard her friends' plans, but never played along. (Tickets depended on how much traffic was on the road that day. Lyle would let you off completely if there weren't any other cars around and if you didn't push anything above eleven miles over the limit. Unless, of course, you were a boy, in which the only time you got off with a warning was when your story was really, really good.)

Amy curtseyed as Lyle opened the door for her, stepping lightly into the building. One glance around and she had already spied a group of hooligans, a covert attempt at spiking the punch with vodka, and a girl smuggling drugs into her purse. Lyle smiled at her and shook his head; he wasn't on duty and neither was she, just pretend to be regular people and enjoy the dance. She grinned back and nodded, knowing he'd still pay attention to every person there, no matter what he said to her.

Her brother was so cool.

...

The day after the prom Lyle sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper while he waited for his coffee to cool. Amy was still asleep, and would be for another hour at least, so he tried not to make too much noise as he fixed himself breakfast. Shoveling some scrambled eggs into his mouth, he turned the page and sighed; the world certainly had its fair share of problems. Another civil war was sparking over the oil crisis in the Middle East, threatening to spill into battlefield conflict; terrorist strikes were gaining momentum in the world's largest metropolitan areas; and those damn Gundam things were still harrying everybody, making bigger messes out of the ensuing confusion. Once again, he was reminded of how glad he was to live in this Out-Of-The-Way Nowheresville, located smack dab in the middle of No-One-Cares, Ireland. It was a good place to raise Amy; he'd never want her to end up as warped on the inside as her two older brothers.

Sighing, he flipped the newspaper over to the comics section and found his favorites, but a noise in the hallway startled him into sharply glancing up. His surprised eyes found Amy's sleepy ones, and he couldn't help but chuckle at her bedraggled appearance: tussled hair sticking this way and that, baggy pajamas simultaneously sliding off one shoulder while also being stepped upon, remnants of dark mascara and eyeshadow clinging to her expressionless face as she yawned a giant good morning and lazily scratched at her side.

"What'cha doin' up, Ames?" he asked, sliding his coffee cup over to her side of the table while she took a seat.

"W-w-waaaanted," she yawned again, rubbing at her eyes, "to see you."

"It's barely after eight."

"Yeah," she grumped. "Believe me, I know."

"But?" he asked, eyebrows raised, prompting her to continue.

She chugged the rest of the coffee. "But I don't usually see you before work, y'know? I wanted to say thanks. It was really cool, having you there. At prom."

"You mean I didn't embarrass you when I winked at all your friends?"

"Of course not! They love it when you do that kinda stuff. They'll all be talkin' on Monday."

"Lyle, my man, you've still got it!" he laughed, slapping himself a high-five.

"Oh, you!" Amy squealed, leaping from her seat to punch at his arm. "You're so...so...so!"

Lyle continued to laugh as his sister playfully beat him up. And while the world had its own problems, and maybe even had issues with him as a person and his version of responsibility, he didn't much mind the world. Because he knew it wasn't an evil place filled with hatred and bitterness. When the world got him down, all he had to do was remember that darkness couldn't stand to live when faced with a sister's bright, happy smile, and so inside he felt his heart smiling too, letting go of the anger he had nurtured within it. After all, seeing Amy laughing like this, growing up without bitterness in her own life, he knew there was hope for the next generation.

Just being here, caring for and loving her as a big brother should, had already made a hell of a difference.