It was after work, at a bar…not the one where the entire police department went at the end, a more discreet bar. They were at a place near Fin's house. She asked him for this chance to talk, her attempt to salvage what she could of Fin's faith and belief in her, as a partner and a friend.

She got there first, as planned. She needed at least one drink to drive down the nerves and dull the voice screaming at her to run. She even felt the licks of the flames telling her that one more bet, one more moment of adrenaline, would be so much easier. She fought the urge. She grabbed her cigarettes and lighter and decided that this addiction would not remain a secret. She had to stop hiding everything. Besides, she needed that feel of the first drag, the nicotine as it rushed through her lungs. She knew she had to give this up too. One thing at a time, just like one day at a time, that was the way forward and upward. She hoped that she could rise to meet the road, Murphy had the said he hoped that "the road would rise to meet her"; he had too much confidence in her. She would never understand the risks he took, and the belief he had, in someone ready to degrade herself, give him her body, all for a card. Why had captain Cragen, and now Murphy, a stranger, have such faith?

As she put out the cigarette in the ashtray Fin walked up. He looked at the cigarette, and up at her, but he seemed to accept that for now she needed the crutch. If they ever got their connection back he would be all over her to "knock that off". She could only hope. Fin took her gently by the arm and walked her into the bar.

He asked her what she wanted; a shot of something was all she could say. Alcohol was something she drank, maybe more than she should. However, she never felt that pull to it like she did to gambling. She never allowed it to control her the way it had controlled her mother, her father, and her sister too. Fin ordered them both a shot of some Fin concoction and they drank. He looked at her, she nodded and he ordered another. Finally her nerves were quieting, the fire had been quelled, and her armor was cracking open a bit. Fin ordered them each a beer. It was time.

He said the first words, strange what had passed with so few words. He may not trust her, but the synergy they had was still there. A bit of hope, a sign that not everything was in ruins…yet. "Amanda, you wanted to talk. I want to give you a chance, so I am here. This is in your hands".

Where did she start? Did she start with the present and work backwards? Or did she start at the beginning and work towards now? Her mind was still unfocused. She took a drink. She started somewhere, not the beginning and not the end.

"My first months in GA I only said the minimum I had to. I wanted to stop the descent into debt and the risk of losing my job. I wanted to use the opportunity that you, and Captain Cragan, gave to me and not screw it up. It took months before I could share more than bits, just crumbs, of why I was there. One day I found myself telling them about when I was 6 or 7 and my daddy was teaching me how to play craps out in the yard. It was strange because it is one of the only memories I have with him that I felt pure happiness. He was in a good mood because he'd just won at some gambling place….I guess it was at craps…and he was cheering me on when I rolled the dice. He told me I had a knack with the dice. He even gave me a few dollars afterwards and told me I deserved it since I played so well. I don't know what leads us to become like those around us. Maybe it was my destiny from the moment I was born. Maybe it was having one of my happiest memories revolve around gambling. But as I grew older and the crush of life overwhelmed me, that moment always floated in and gave me a moment of peace. I didn't actually place a real bet until I was at college. It was after my finals, before I had my grades, and I went to the races. I was a broke college student so I maybe had $20. I won and almost had that feeling I'd had with my dad. That was the beginning of this fire that controls my life".

Fin didn't respond at first. He looked at me and I thought I saw sadness, or was it pity? His words assured me it was not pity. "We never know what makes us who we are. However, we all have something that makes us more than that stuff. I know you; I know you have the guts to stop this. It still doesn't tell me how you wound up here, and why you are so sure you can't trust even me?"

This was the heart of the issue. Trust. It always came back to trust. He knew about her sister. But clearly her lack of faith in others came way before that. He wanted, needed to understand. She glanced at her empty glass. He ordered another. She felt the effects of the alcohol, the dulling of senses, the relaxation of her armor even more. Again she went back to where to begin, what to say. Fire, run…but now her body was in a state that the message to run was even quieter and the flames even further away.