Trying to Be Better.

January of 1993.

Vancouver.

I drove in silence the entire way to Vancouver. It was easy because Amelia was exhausted. She slumped against the window fifteen minutes into the drive, hiding her face with a curtain of black hair. Strange of her to be so trusting. But then again, we had slept together a few hours ago and that was about as trusting as a person could get.

She wanted me to help her bring down Chimaera.

When I met her, I saw her as the weakest link, the point I could break or manipulate, maybe someone who would respond to reason. Amelia skipped those steps when she followed me back to the resort. She clearly had her own ruse going. She refused to elaborate, insisting we drive back to Vancouver and discuss our subterfuge there. It gave me time to decide how I would play this. And time to feel guilty because I had dropped the ball. I should have seen her following me.

Amelia stirred before we arrived, as if sensing our long journey coming to its end. She glanced at me, and then stared silently out the window for the last five minutes. Maybe she was thinking on what she would say. She could be lying, trying to trick me, trying to figure me out. But why would she reveal herself at the resort? Why would she show up unarmed? Without backup? Without a wire?

I cut on the lights in the living room, dropping the bags on the couch. "Stay here."

Sam grumbled when I turned on the bedroom light. "Wha…?"

"We have a problem. Get up."

I stood stiffly in the living room, keeping an eye on Amelia while I waited for Sam to put himself together. She was looking around, grimacing. Sam and I had done a little cleaning since we arrived, but the apartment was still grungy, grimy, markedly that of someone going through a hard time.

I reminded myself that she was responsible for his injury, let the sight of her bashing his leg with a pipe play through my mind.

Sam came out, glancing between us. He hid his surprise very well. Just a little tick of his eyebrow. "Interesting guest you have there."

"I thought so," I said.

Amelia was a little rigid, eyes on Sam, "Who are you people?"

"I'm a cop," I responded.

She scowled, "You're not a cop."

"Reporter," Sam added. "Me, not him. Mike's a cop."

Amelia looked ready to object again.

I cut her off, "I am. Just not dirty. I lied about that to try and get into your organization. Dino is a friend. I wanted to help him get out of this."

"And you broke his leg," Sam cut in, not bothering to hide his anger.

Amelia said, "I had to."

"No, you didn't." Sam looked at me. "Why is she here?"

"She followed me to the resort." I dragged the bags off the couch, sitting down heavily and rubbing my eyes. Long night. Long week. "She wants to take Chimaera down."

A glimmer of interest took Sam down a notch. He considered us both, a champ when it came to switching lanes. He simply shrugged. "Want a beer?"

"It's the middle of the night," I said.

"Yes," Amelia responded.

We sat in the living room, Sam and I on the couch, Amelia in the armchair. Sam sipped a beer while Amelia held hers between her legs, toying with the neck with both thumbs, appearing suddenly nervous. It was refreshing to see her vulnerable. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she was feeling some remorse for attacking Dino.

"I joined Chimaera when I was a teenager," she began. "It was different then. Smaller. I tried to leave a few times, but it just doesn't… work that way. I'm good at it."

"We know that," Sam commented.

She glared at him, fire reignited. "I did what I had to do."

"Keep going," I said, shooting Sam a look.

She said, "I had a feeling you were lying when we met. No offense, but you seem too nice, deep down, to be a dirty cop."

Oh, if only she knew.

"So, I followed you. I heard you talking to that girl in the lobby."

Whoops.

I was suddenly embarrassed. She heard my telling Breanna I wanted to ask her out. And she saw the girl give me her address, asking me to come by when I had figured my life out.

Most importantly, she heard me talking out of character, in a tone and accent that didn't match the façade I had put up at the bar. She knew I was lying.

I played into it, riding on my outstanding confidence. "Well, you know now. Dino called me to see if I could help him out. He didn't want to get his cousin involved." I scratched the back of my head, deciding to pepper the lies with truth. "Phil did a lot for him, tried to help him get clean. He messed up really bad. He didn't want to be a burden and I… I should've called Phil."

"If you had, Chimaera would've extorted him already."

"He borrowed the money from you guys to pay his cousin back."

"How is he?" she asked.

Sam responded, "In the hospital, in pain."

"I'm sorry." There was no regret in her voice, just a vacuum. "It's better that he's there, so they have a harder time getting to him. Less privacy."

Sam ground his teeth.

"I need a meeting with Yora," I said.

Amelia met my eyes, curiosity blending with caution, "How are you planning to bring her down?"

Sam looked at me pointedly.

I glanced at him to show him that I understood – withhold –, and then said, "You don't need to know that. Not yet. But it might mean I need to disappear, find a new career."

"You would do that for a druggie?"

I simply shrugged.

"I'm gonna go check on Dino, maybe keep an eye out at the bank," Sam decided, giving up on sleep. He set his half-finished beer on the table, a statement in its own right.

Once he left the apartment, Amelia moved over to the couch.

"So, who was that pretty girl at the hotel?"

I stiffened, feeling that adrenaline shot again. Amelia was dangerous. She seemed to be taunting me. Would Breanna be in danger if we pissed Amelia off?

But her eyes were teasing, not threatening. She had turned toward me, resting her elbow on the back of the couch, her head in her palm. Still tired, but resisting sleep. Like me.

"Just a girl." I groped for another topic. "How does a teenage girl get involved with a criminal organization like Chimaera?"

"God, you really are a cop, aren't you?" She yawned, staring wistfully at the far wall. "I needed the money, and they had it. Simple. Like I said, it was smaller back then. Yora was looking for recruits and I was looking for cash."

How old was she? It was hard to tell. She was young and pretty, maybe my age, with long, silky black hair and pale skin. Her eyes were an electric blue. Her accent said she came from northern England. How did she get here? If she was my age, where was she when I entered basic training? Pulling tricks on the street? Selling drugs? Extorting businesses?

"Why'd you become a cop?" she asked.

I mimicked her posture, so we seemed to be in a private meeting. I spoke quietly, though we were alone in the apartment. Some things felt like they should be quiet, secret, personal. The character that I had created had very little backstory, very little motivation apart from wanting to help Dino. So I gave him mine, with some modifications.

Why did I become a soldier?

"I wanted to leave home, mostly," I said, shrugging, trying to make it sound nonchalant. "I wanted to help people. Solve problems. But it doesn't always go that way, you know?"

She nodded along solemnly. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

I hesitated, "Yes."

Her eyes widened a smidge, but she tried to hide her surprise. Maybe we weren't so similar after all. If she had dabbled in low level stuff her whole life, it might be a bit of a shock to meet a real killer. Someone on the top tier of crime. Did it really matter that it was in the name of the law? An order from the government? The outcome was the same.

"I wanted to help people," I repeated. "But sometimes it feels like I do more harm than good. I just thought if I could help Dino, just this one person, it might make up for…"

I cleared my throat, pushed my emotions out of it.

"But clearly that's not going well, him being in the hospital and all."

"What could you have possibly done that you need to be redeemed for?" she challenged. "I told you, when we met you had these kind eyes. You're not a bad guy."

I snorted. "I've killed people."

"Yeah, but you're a cop. That's kind of what they do."

I wondered if I should say what was on my mind. She was an admitted criminal. I had watched her take a pipe to Dino's leg and she didn't seem remorseful at all. But there was a fine line between taking a pipe to his leg and putting a gun to his head.

It was the line between us, an ugly red line dissecting the couch, the apartment, the whole world. People like me lived on this side, and people like her on the other. Hers was divided, sorting people into categories, putting her and Sam in different places. But mine needed no divisions. Everyone there was the same.

I toyed with the idea of honesty, wondering if the thoughts bubbling into my head were how I really felt. I never spoke candidly with anyone about it. Not even Sam.

"When I kill people…" I said. "It's not always necessary. Or right. And I don't always feel bad for it. I feel like I should, but I don't. It's like there's something wrong with me."

I leaned in closer, trying to force the point home. I barely knew her. I didn't care if she thought I was a monster. It was people like Sam, people like Breanna, people like my mother, who could never hear these things.

"I'm a bad guy."

She seemed captivated, hanging on my words. "But trying to be better?"

"Trying to be better," I agreed softly.

And then she kissed me.