Amanda, Pete - Tuesday morning
Mar. 4th, 2008 09:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAmanda goes looking for another perspective.
There was a hesitant tapping at the office door, and then it opened, Amanda sticking her head around the corner of it. "Pete?" she asked, eyes flicking to his desk as if trying to assess how much work he had. "Have you got a minute?"
Pete glanced up from the reports he was reading, stifling a yawn as he did. "Depends. Have you got coffee with you, or failing that,
something I can use to open a vein with? Because if I don't achieve
full consciousness at some point this morning, I might as well pack up
and go home..."
"I had a feeling you might ask that." Amanda came in properly, a large take-out coffee cup in her hand. "I stopped by the place on the way in."
Pete's eyes lit up. "You are a truly marvellous human being, have I
ever told you that?" He gestured for he to sit down and left his hand
outstreached to take the coffee as Amanda came over. "Since you have
come bearing suitable gifts, you may stay. Take a load off, and tell
what's on your mind..."
Coffee tribute handed over, Amanda perched on the edge of the chair opposite him, her hands clasped together to stop her biting her nails any more - they were already down to the quick. "You probably saw my report, on the thing with the Church of Humanity," she began. "And I just... after I..." She stopped, and marshalled her thoughts. "The first time you killed someone, can you tell me about it?" she blurted out at last. "If it's all right?"
"I..." Pete started to say something, then caught himself, and
started to reach for his cigarettes. "You mean the first time I
killed someone on purpose?"
That got a slight eyebrow quirk, but Amanda nodded. "Yeah. After the other night, I think I need... I think it would help?" She didn't sound entirely sure. "But only if it's all right by you, tho'."
Pete lit a cigarette. "Yeah, OK." He exhaled, and offered her the
pack. "But I'm warning you now, I don't come out of this one looking
good."
She didn't lunge at the offered cigarettes, but only just. Out in the main office, the conference room and Wanda's office, she stuck to the non-smoking rules for the sake of nearly everyone else, but some days it was harder than others. "Does anyone ever come out looking good?" she asked rhetorically as she leaned forward so he could light her smoke.
"Don't know. But there's times I've killed people, and never
regretted it. This ain't one of them." He paused briefly, then went
on. "I was 22, early nineties. I'd been with British Intel for a
couple of years, mostly training - I'd done a stint in the army for 18
months, and then spent most of another year getting more specialised
training from SIS and a few other places. Mutants were a pretty new
thing then, and half the bastards in charge were just about wetting
themselves in excitement at the idea of an assassin who didn't need to
carry a gun to be fucking lethal. Anyway, it was much a proving run
as it was anything. There was this paddy idiot, with the provos, he'd
got lucky, and clipped one of the guys from the Regiment, only to
realise what he's done and run to the back end of nowhere in the
South, and after the fuck up in '76 the government wouldn't sanction
any of his two-two mates going after him. So they sent me. They
traced him to this farmhouse in the back end of nowhere, and went in
to slot him."
Pete sighed.
"Only either somebody hadn't done their homework, or they really
wanted to send a message, because when I kicked the door in, there he
was, watching telly with his wife and kid. And if they ID me, it's
'76 all over again, and I'm far too fucking far south for it to be a
map reading error..."
"So you did all three." Amanda spoke quietly, watching his face. For what, she wasn't sure.
"Yeah." Pete sighed, then took a long drag on his cigarette. "Do I
regret killing her and the kid? Every fucking day. They're not the
worst thing I've ever done, but they were the first, you know? Do I
regret killing him? No, not really. He was a provo who planned
attacks on women and children himself, and who got luckier than he
deserved in a fight with a good lad. I'm OK with the idea, agree that
the regiment, the government couldn't let that stand, and I'm OK with
the fact that it was my job to do it. But I regret the woman and the
kid every fucking day."
The girl sitting opposite him nodded, silent. "There's a difference," she said at last. "A line we have to draw. I s'pose I was starting to think maybe I'd gone too far, that maybe I should have used Angelo like he asked." She lifted her cigarette to her lips, inhaled, and then let out a long breath that was almost like relief. "Thanks, Pete. I did need to hear that, I think."
"Yeah, there's a line." Pete shrugged. "I ain't really qualified to be a moral authority of any kind, but for what it's worth, I reckon you absolutely did the right thing. No, it's not something you should feel *good* about, but it's not something you should feel awful over either. Deal with it however you need to, but they were fuckers who hurt people, and he was a guy who was trying to stop them. There's times the line's a lot harder to see than that one."
"You might not be any kind of moral authority, but you always helped set me straight." Amanda gave him a small smile, her body language loosening a little. "We talk about doing whatever it takes, about taking someone out, like it's just another part of the job. And it is, I s'pose. But when you get down to actually doing it..." Amanda shook her head. "Everything changes."
There was a hesitant tapping at the office door, and then it opened, Amanda sticking her head around the corner of it. "Pete?" she asked, eyes flicking to his desk as if trying to assess how much work he had. "Have you got a minute?"
Pete glanced up from the reports he was reading, stifling a yawn as he did. "Depends. Have you got coffee with you, or failing that,
something I can use to open a vein with? Because if I don't achieve
full consciousness at some point this morning, I might as well pack up
and go home..."
"I had a feeling you might ask that." Amanda came in properly, a large take-out coffee cup in her hand. "I stopped by the place on the way in."
Pete's eyes lit up. "You are a truly marvellous human being, have I
ever told you that?" He gestured for he to sit down and left his hand
outstreached to take the coffee as Amanda came over. "Since you have
come bearing suitable gifts, you may stay. Take a load off, and tell
what's on your mind..."
Coffee tribute handed over, Amanda perched on the edge of the chair opposite him, her hands clasped together to stop her biting her nails any more - they were already down to the quick. "You probably saw my report, on the thing with the Church of Humanity," she began. "And I just... after I..." She stopped, and marshalled her thoughts. "The first time you killed someone, can you tell me about it?" she blurted out at last. "If it's all right?"
"I..." Pete started to say something, then caught himself, and
started to reach for his cigarettes. "You mean the first time I
killed someone on purpose?"
That got a slight eyebrow quirk, but Amanda nodded. "Yeah. After the other night, I think I need... I think it would help?" She didn't sound entirely sure. "But only if it's all right by you, tho'."
Pete lit a cigarette. "Yeah, OK." He exhaled, and offered her the
pack. "But I'm warning you now, I don't come out of this one looking
good."
She didn't lunge at the offered cigarettes, but only just. Out in the main office, the conference room and Wanda's office, she stuck to the non-smoking rules for the sake of nearly everyone else, but some days it was harder than others. "Does anyone ever come out looking good?" she asked rhetorically as she leaned forward so he could light her smoke.
"Don't know. But there's times I've killed people, and never
regretted it. This ain't one of them." He paused briefly, then went
on. "I was 22, early nineties. I'd been with British Intel for a
couple of years, mostly training - I'd done a stint in the army for 18
months, and then spent most of another year getting more specialised
training from SIS and a few other places. Mutants were a pretty new
thing then, and half the bastards in charge were just about wetting
themselves in excitement at the idea of an assassin who didn't need to
carry a gun to be fucking lethal. Anyway, it was much a proving run
as it was anything. There was this paddy idiot, with the provos, he'd
got lucky, and clipped one of the guys from the Regiment, only to
realise what he's done and run to the back end of nowhere in the
South, and after the fuck up in '76 the government wouldn't sanction
any of his two-two mates going after him. So they sent me. They
traced him to this farmhouse in the back end of nowhere, and went in
to slot him."
Pete sighed.
"Only either somebody hadn't done their homework, or they really
wanted to send a message, because when I kicked the door in, there he
was, watching telly with his wife and kid. And if they ID me, it's
'76 all over again, and I'm far too fucking far south for it to be a
map reading error..."
"So you did all three." Amanda spoke quietly, watching his face. For what, she wasn't sure.
"Yeah." Pete sighed, then took a long drag on his cigarette. "Do I
regret killing her and the kid? Every fucking day. They're not the
worst thing I've ever done, but they were the first, you know? Do I
regret killing him? No, not really. He was a provo who planned
attacks on women and children himself, and who got luckier than he
deserved in a fight with a good lad. I'm OK with the idea, agree that
the regiment, the government couldn't let that stand, and I'm OK with
the fact that it was my job to do it. But I regret the woman and the
kid every fucking day."
The girl sitting opposite him nodded, silent. "There's a difference," she said at last. "A line we have to draw. I s'pose I was starting to think maybe I'd gone too far, that maybe I should have used Angelo like he asked." She lifted her cigarette to her lips, inhaled, and then let out a long breath that was almost like relief. "Thanks, Pete. I did need to hear that, I think."
"Yeah, there's a line." Pete shrugged. "I ain't really qualified to be a moral authority of any kind, but for what it's worth, I reckon you absolutely did the right thing. No, it's not something you should feel *good* about, but it's not something you should feel awful over either. Deal with it however you need to, but they were fuckers who hurt people, and he was a guy who was trying to stop them. There's times the line's a lot harder to see than that one."
"You might not be any kind of moral authority, but you always helped set me straight." Amanda gave him a small smile, her body language loosening a little. "We talk about doing whatever it takes, about taking someone out, like it's just another part of the job. And it is, I s'pose. But when you get down to actually doing it..." Amanda shook her head. "Everything changes."
