Selfish.

January of 1993.

Vancouver.

It was midday when Sam finally returned the apartment. He threw his hands up when he saw me sitting there on the couch, watching TV.

"Where the hell did you go?"

"I went out back. When I came back, you were gone."

"Yeah, I was out looking for you! I was sure you were dead, stuffed in the trunk of a black SUV, headed off to the nearest river!"

He threw his hands up again, stomping to the fridge and rifling through it. He came back with a beer, sitting beside me and glaring at the TV.

I waited a few minutes before I said, "Are you gonna keep pouting or do you wanna hear what happened?"

Sam sighed. "Fine. What happened?"

"Jacob went home and whined, so they sent Amelia to the bar to wait for me."

"Amelia? Is that the chick who hit Dino with a pipe?"

"Well, yeah."

Sam rolled his hand, "What happened? Did she give you anything useful?"

"Not exactly. She wouldn't set up a meeting with her boss. We left the bar and she wanted me to prove that I was a dirty cop. I think I passed the test."

"What did she make you do?"

I hesitated, thinking of Ernesto again. I felt bad for not feeling bad. I felt guilty, because it was so easy for me to flip a switch and hurt someone. I was trying to be a better person when this mission started, but today I had not been trying very hard.

"Oh, Mike," Sam said, "Tell me you didn't kill someone."

"No. God. Is that what you think of me?"

"Sorry, you just had this look on your face."

"I punched someone," I admitted. "He'll be fine." And I held a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. If I told him, I knew Sam would ask how I knew for sure that the gun was not loaded, and the honest answer would drive a rift between us.

I had guessed.

Sam ran his hands through his thick mess of brown hair, groaning, "Well, today was a bust."

"Not totally. I think Amelia might be the weak link in this. She carries around a gun with no bullets in it. She listened to me. I think she suspects I'm not who I say I am, but she didn't bring backup."

"So, you want to use her to get to Yora? And then what?"

"I need to convince Yora to go after a target too big for her."

"Ahh, the old 'lion bites the elephant's ass' maneuver."

"What do you…?"

"I did it once in Kuwait. We sicced a ruthless mayor on a government official, and boy it did not go well for the mayor. But he was so amped up he thought he was invincible. He was the lion, and the government was the elephant. Is that what you want to do here?"

"Yes."

"Who are you going to sic the lion on?"

"I'm no sure yet. We need to do a little research."

"Okay, noted. But how are we gonna wrap this up with a little bow, without causing some kind of criminal turf war?"

I realized he was going to insist on a nonviolent end.

"I want to get the police involved."

Sam snorted, "No offense, Mike, but the police?"

"Vancouver has a large police force. I know it seems out of character for me, but if you want this to end peacefully, we need to dismantle the whole organization – and what better way than to get the police involved? Chimaera has to be on their radar already. You said it yourself, they were really hush-hush about it."

Sam sipped his beer, watching TV for a few minutes.

He finally said, "I think you're right."

"You made a detective friend, right?"

"Well, he told me to get out of his face and stay out of his station, so I guess you could call us friends. You want me to talk to him again?"

"I think you need a good cover ID."

Sam rubbed his hands together, "Oh, I have a few ideas already."

His enthusiasm made me smile. "Please keep Chuck Finley out of this."

"What's your problem with Chuck?"

"Well, for one, if you use it every time you'll start to be remembered."

"Fine. I introduced myself as Clayton last time, anyway. So, I guess I'm sticking with that."

"Clayton?"

"I thought it would be a one-time thing."

We sat in silence. Sam finished his beer and started on a second one.

"You know," Sam said after night had fallen, "I have to say, this is not on my top ten list of worst vacations. Not even on my top twenty."

I said nothing.

"What about you?"

"I haven't been on many vacations."

"Not even as a kid? Never went to Disney World? You were close by."

"Not every kid in Florida goes to Disney World."

"You had to go somewhere."

I looked over, finding a haze over his eyes. He was a little more than tipsy, bold enough to quiz me about my childhood.

"What do you want to know, Sam?"

"Am I being too nosey?"

In all friendships there are points – opportunities, moments – where you can forge a deeper bond, or distance yourself. Some people are okay with never being close to their friends. A little chat, a drink every other weekend, is enough to satisfy them. But some people suffer that way.

"We never went anywhere," I admitted. "But that was fine with me. I barely spent any time with my family at home – being trapped in a hotel room with them for days would end with us all killing each other."

"Yeah, same with my family. We went places, but we all separated when we got there. I stayed with my mom, and my brothers went with my dad."

"You have brothers?"

"Had." He finished his beer, setting the empty bottle on the table and making no move to go get another one. "Listen, I didn't mean to insinuate that you would just kill someone willy-nilly. I know you're a better man than that. I just go there as a reflex sometimes. Old habit when it comes to spooks."

"It's fine."

Sam put his hand on my shoulder, "I'm glad you didn't get shot and stuffed into a trunk today. I'm going to bed." He got up and headed into the bedroom. It was free since Dino was in the hospital.

I sat up for a while, thinking of what Sam had said, wondering why I told him so much about my life. It felt like a forbidden subject. It made me feel weak, vulnerable – all the things I had shaken off when I joined the army. I was strong now, capable, independent. I didn't need them anymore. I didn't need to remember them anymore.

But I did.

I laid down, going back to Ernesto over and over again. I wondered if that was what my face looked like when my dad grabbed me and punched me in the eye. For a split second, I felt like him, felt that I was becoming him. But what I had done to Ernesto was not out of anger. I did it to prove myself to Amelia. I did it without hesitation, without guilt.

So, what did that make me? Worse than my dad?

Part of me wanted to go and find him, to explain that Amelia and her organization would crash and burn soon and that he would be free of them. But that wouldn't fix his eye. It wouldn't hasten his freedom. Seeing me would probably scare him more. It would be a service only to myself.

Selfish. That's what I was.

And that thought kept me awake all night.