i was going to leave this out as it's really messy but i didn't want all the schmaltzy stuff with cammy and vega make anyone forget he's a complete psychopath.

I begged Andres to come with me to a proper English pub, I'm swearing I'm going to find English food he'll like, and you know, he's a pushover to me. I could throw him down in a puddle and use him to walk over it and not get wet, that's how he is to me. I wouldn't recommend anyone else trying it, though. So he agrees to come to one of my favorite spots. It's a weekend evening, some men are a bit rowdy watching a football match, they've clearly been drinking. He's telling me how disgusting everything looks, teasing me about beans and toast or something or other. I tease him back because he eats squid and raw fish and has no business telling anyone what's gross or what isn't.

I get up to use the bathroom. The place is a bit noisy so I bend towards him a bit to speak to him before I go off. I guess one of those drunk jerks thought that meant I was offering my butt out to them. One of them shouts and slaps me on the rear while his mates laugh. I spin around quick, ready to give him a piece of my mind and then some.

But it's really quite frightening what happened next. Before I can say anything to them or even so much as blink, Andres is up and he's got the drunk by his throat, slams his head into the bar twice, and orders him to apologize if he wants to keep his teeth in his mouth. That pisses his mates off so they all get up at once, the bartender's yelling at us, and I think just about everyone in London is staring at us. The drunk tries to hit him and Andres grabs him by the wrist, spins him around, got his arm behind his back and tells him to fuck off right as he shoves him back into the bar hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Just like that, "Fuck off." I'm not used to hearing him curse and it's like someone flinging shit on a marble floor. He finally pushes the fellow back towards his friends and one of them starts taunting him and calling him just about every rude word they can think of, threatening to beat him to death. Instead of leaving, like a sensible person might, he says he'd love to see it. Why's he hear them so well but doesn't notice me practically begging him to leave? Whether I could defend myself and him against these jerks isn't really the point, to me, since it isn't a good idea to get into a big fight like this in a public place. God knows what Wolfman would say to me if he found out I was brawling in bars!

It's like an eternity before someone from the pub tells us to get out. Maybe that's unfair since those other guys started it, but I guess they didn't get violent first. I loudly tell the worker that we're leaving, and I practically have to drag Andres away, even though those drunks are still calling us names. I almost want to cry. Not from being called a bad name, but because of the whole thing. The guy grabbing me, how angry Andres is, how harshly he reacted without a thought, how embarrassing it was to have everyone in a pub watching us like that. I don't know why but once we're out, I say, "I'm sorry about all of that-"

And he just explodes! "Why the fuck are you sorry?" and it's like he's a snarling monster, like someone flipped a switch from neutral to rabid. Nothing like how I'm used to seeing him. His cursing's all in Spanish now and I think that might be for the better. "You can't be treated like that!" he says finally in English, pointing back at the pub. "You're too good! You don't deserve it!"

What do you say to that? To the guy who almost smashed someone's face in because they smacked your bum? No, I don't like being harassed, but I really don't like how violent he suddenly is. I would've just told the fellow off and been done with it. How ready he is to hurt someone without a second thought, it's frightening. "Maybe but-"

"Not maybe," he says. "They have to understand they aren't allowed to do things like that!"

"You need to calm down," I tell him finally. I'm really not good at conflict resolution. My personality survey for work taught me that. So I do what I know how and I tell the honest truth.

He stares at me, like he doesn't get it or like I don't get it, like he's confused that I'm not agreeing with him. Of course I think people shouldn't grope other people. But I also don't think someone who does that should be eating through a straw the rest of their lives. "They shouldn't have touched you," he says again, like maybe this time I'll say you know, spot on, go back in there and finish him off.

"No, but it's not worth hurting them like that."

"Not worth-" He laughs in a really awful way, not really out of amusement but just sheer disbelief that I could be so naive. "You don't understand. Men are pigs who think they can take and destroy anything and everything, especially these beautiful things they're told they can't have."

"The answer probably doesn't involve beating them all to a bloody pulp!" I cry back because I really want him to figure this out, that he's not judge, jury, and executioner. It's one thing to be upset, but he seems like he really was going to tear that man apart in there if I hadn't stopped him, and that's not anymore acceptable than someone smacking my butt. "Two wrongs don't make a right, haven't you ever heard that?"

"So you just let yourself be a victim?"

"I'm not a victim!" I scream that at him, how dare he imply that?!

"Either you are, or you fight them," he says simply like a whole big complex issue can have such two small little answers. I'm just frothing now, why is he pissing me off so much over this? I don't think I've ever been this angry with him! Annoyed, irritated, yeah, but now I'm just pissed!

"You think you just know everything, don't you!" I shout and I don't care that we're out in public where anyone can hear us yelling at each other. "You think you have all the answers figured out! Well you don't! You're just pretending like you know what to do!"

"That's you!" he shouts back and he's right, I know he is, but I'm not listening! He doesn't know, no, I'm not a child!

I clench my fists and shake them and I scream, "I hope they come out here and beat some bloody sense into you before I do it!" My voice cracks from how I'm practically shrieking but I'm just angrier that I can't scream any harder than I am. And once it's gone quiet-quiet as it can get out here-I'm overwhelmed by a sudden enraging embarrassment. What am I doing? A grown woman screaming at the top of her lungs out in public like this? Threatening to hurt somebody over words? I can't take it anymore, I have a right to be mad, don't I?! I make a frustrated noise and I run away from him. I don't know why. I want to kick and scream and cry and he's just so bloody right isn't he? I'm just a child, pretending like I have a hold on my life. But the truth is I don't understand a thing.

It's been two days since our argument and I haven't heard from him. I think we're both too stubborn to say sorry to the other first even if we both want to say it all the same. It's just, if I say it first, then it's like he's right, you see? But he's not right, so I can't say sorry, even if I am sorry for yelling at him and probably saying things that made him feel bad. My mood must be pretty obvious, I'm shit at hiding things from people. Can't lie at all or pretend like I'm not feeling something, like other people can. Luwanda does her usual of pointing out my poor attitude but not really helping with it. Ginzu and McCoy just do their usual tip toeing around me, pretending like if they ignore how mad I am it'll resolve itself sooner or later. The colonel's the only one who ever helps.

After our shift ends, he's waiting for me outside the locker room. I glare at him because I glare at everyone when I'm angry, and he says, "You don't seem pleasant today."

"What was your first bloody clue?"

He smiles though. Smiles. Urgh, and that just makes me feel bad for being rude to him. But maybe he knows that and that's why he does it. "Is it something we can talk about?" And that, too. Always offering to talk. It's so nice of him, so how can I keep being angry?

I sigh heavily and drop my backpack to the ground mostly out of frustration. It's satisfying to hear it hit the floor. "It's Andres! He thinks he knows everything and he doesn't you know! I'm not a victim of anything, and I can defend myself perfectly fine!"

He waves me on, like to follow him, so I do, and we go back to his private office which usually one of us only sees when we're in a bit of trouble. We sit in there and it's all messy and full of papers and things. It's a bit like me and my home. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

"Well, we went to a pub because the cocky bastard claims all English food is terrible, but it's plain he's just refusing to like any of it to-to-" I think for a minute, to what? "To spite me!" I finish, just because it sounds good even if I don't know what it really means. He nods along to show he's listening. "And some-some bastard grabbed my bum! I was going to have it under control, you know, I can handle myself!" I growl and maybe it's a bit exaggerated, and I cross my arms over my chest. "But no! He jumps up and gets the man by his throat and hits his head against the bar and tells him off. Like I can't do it for myself. And I have to practically drag him out before he gets into a fight with this guy and all of his friends, and when we go outside he goes off, saying how awful the man was and how he had to be taught a lesson and how if I don't think the same way that I'm okay with being a victim and I'm not!" I stamp my foot to emphasise the last bit, because it's probably what made me the angriest.

"Hm. Sounds like a rough night."

"Yes. And now I haven't talked to him since because he won't say he's sorry."

"Violence should always be a last resort, and I'm happy that you recognize that. Not many people do," Wolfman says. It makes me feel better. Not just about the fact that it means I'm right and Andres wasn't, but also just that the colonel had something good to say about me. "But...there's no shame in admitting to being a victim, either. Most people, at some point in their lives, are a victim of something. Whether it's something small or big."

I fume a bit first and sigh loudly. "Maybe. But I don't like it. It makes me look like I can't take care of myself and I can!"

He nods. "You can and you have. Quite well for someone coming from your situation. But try to see that part from his perspective. A good friend of his was harassed by some low life. If the situation were reversed, would you have sat by and said nothing?"

I think about it for a moment and try to picture somebody harassing him. It's difficult. I take a big breath and say, "Well I guess I hadn't thought of it that way. But still. I didn't like his attitude about it."

"Maybe you should let him know, in a calmer way. Tell him you understand he was trying to help, but that it made you uncomfortable. Although, Cammy, again, there's no shame in having someone help you. It doesn't mean someone thinks you're incapable of helping yourself. It just means they care about you."

Well then that just makes me feel a bit ashamed and I look at my feet and I can feel my ears getting all hot. "Maybe," I mumble. Maybe I was quick to get mad at him for saying I was a victim. And maybe he did just want to help because I'm his friend, not because he thinks I can't do things on my own. He still shouldn't have been violent, though, so I get to bother him about that part. I sigh loudly again and look up at the Colonel. "You're right. As usual."

"It's a burden."

I smile. "I'm sorry for my mood these past few days."

"It's alright Cammy. Everyone expresses themselves a bit differently." He pats me on the shoulder as he heads for the door. "Just remember, people do care about you, and they want to help you. That doesn't make you weak, to have friends."

I nod and follow him out and fish out my phone. Maybe I should tell Andres I'm sorry. For some of it, anyway. After I made my message and read it about half a billion times, I send it to him and hope he doesn't hate me. By the time I get home, he's answered and says about the same thing. That he's sorry he upset me-not, I notice, that he's sorry about what he said-and that he just can't stand seeing people harass women. So there. We're both sorry and that's that. I tell him to come by if he'd like because we haven't spoken in some time and I feel silly about it. He does and it's just like normal, no problems or tension. It's the adult thing to do to fix things and get them back to normal, right?

I don't usually watch the news. It's a bit boring to me and I figure there's always something else worth watching on the TV. But tonight something caught my eye. A slightly familiar face. So instead of flipping past like I normally do, I switched the channel back quick to catch the story. Where I saw that face before eluded me at first, but the longer I looked, the closer it got. The news anchor was just finishing telling how the man and his five friends were found dead in their homes. No clues to go off, no suspects. A family member of one of the deceased mentioned past gambling problems with one of the men, leading police to believe the whole group got caught up in a debt or something similar with the wrong people.

I know that people are murdered every day. I don't like knowing that, it's not a happy thing to know. But it's the truth. The world is a dangerous place. But the thing about these murders is that I recognise these men. They were the drunk assholes at the bar. Obviously I'm not terribly fond of them. But I'd never wish death on them. I can't imagine wishing death on anyone. And I don't want to imagine the sort of person who doesn't just wish it, but makes it a reality.

I don't know if I've ever known someone who died because there's so much about my life I don't remember. So I suppose, in a way, these men, who I didn't really know, and who I certainly didn't like, are the first I can think of. It makes me think about how quickly a life can be taken. Snapped neck, severed spine, lacerated arteries, anything and everything's a weapon-

I turn the TV off quick. I've got to go outside. I need someone to distract me from my thoughts sometimes because the things I know often scare me.