Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"It never rains in California", Ames thought grumpily. "Yeah, unless I'm on sentinel duty."
"Coast clear, Ames?" Chance's voice via earpiece.
"Now that you say it, no, there's a bus full of cops pulling up from one side and the thugs that are after our client, they're closing in on the van… what THE HELL do you think I'm doing here? Freezing my ass off for friggin' nothing? The goddamn coast is clear as day and if it wasn't I'd TELL you!"
Chance sighed. He hadn't meant to imply… women… "We'll be done soon."
"You don't need to pamper me! I'm doing fine here! Can do this all night!"
Oh great, now they were entering that kind of infinite loop… Chance almost hoped the thugs or the police would really show up.
Instead an elderly watchman stumbled in on him. Perfect timing – he chose the very moment Chance had finally found the file his client needed so desperately.
The guard was about seventy years old. Poor man, he was probably working nightshift to help his grandkids financially or something in that direction. When he saw Chance, he froze, totally shocked.
Grabbed his shoulder.
Gasped for air.
Toppled over.
Heart attack.
Chance dashed to his side, rolled him on his back, started with CPR. "Ames?"
"THE FRIGGIN' COAST IS CLEAR! I'LL TELL YOU WHEN…"
"We need an ambulance, Ames."
… … …
The watchman didn't make it. Posterior myocardial infarction. Oh heavens.
Winston tried to find words that would stop Chance from embarking on a heavy guilt trip, but of course he failed miserably. Guerrero knew better than wasting his time and energy. He briefly patted Chance on the back, then bummed a ride with Winston.
Ames, still in her wet clothes and by now shuddering violently, decided if she wanted to make it home alive, she needed a hot shower first, depressed Chance or not.
The warmth of the water helped a bit, and the dry clothes she kept in her locker, too, but nevertheless her limbs felt terribly sore and her head kind of stopped up when she finally exited the bathroom.
Better head home fast.
To her empty apartment.
Into the cold, damp sheets of her creaking bed.
The horribly pallid face of the watchman flashed up in her mind. And Chance's horrified face as he realized CPR wasn't working.
A terrible shiver ran down her spine.
… … …
Of course Chance heard her coming. Ames wasn't exactly sneaking up on him either. The way she stomped up the stairs even Ilsa would have noticed her and the shove she gave his bedroom door wasn't exactly stealthy either.
When she started pulling at his duvet, however…
"What the hell do you think you are you doing?"
"Thanks to you I've caught a cold! You wanted me to stand on that darn corner, getting all wet and frozen to the bone. Now deal with it – I need body heat!"
Agile as a cat and before he had time to object, Ames slipped underneath his covers.
At first she was lying as far away from him as the blanket allowed, curled up in a tight ball. The bed sheets were everything she had hoped for, a warm cocoon, completely engulfing her, embracing her, protecting her.
Chance wasn't exactly sure what to make out of this situation. What he wanted was to be left alone, but he could hardly kick her out of his bed, could he? And aside from that, the bundle next to him was trembling, a small, barely perceptible quiver… Maybe at least once today his touch could help…?
Just then the quivering bundle suddenly turned, thin but strong arms reached out for him, pulled him into a hug, held him…
Chance sighed. This… felt good.
Ames' beating heart to his back set a soothing rhythm.
Slowly his eyelids grew heavy and what he would have deemed impossible only minutes ago, happened: He drifted off to sleep.