Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Author's Notes: It's been a long time coming.
Maybe This Time
Chance took another drink of his rum and absent-mindedly played with the cocktail napkin in front of him. He had been pondering the last hour as to whether or not he was ready to face her. It had been close to a year since she boarded the plane back to London, and he tried to figure out what he had done wrong in order for her not to stay. It kept him up at night, and most of his free time was spent on the look on her face after telling him goodbye. It was like a bad dream that he wanted to be out of. A bad dream he would have never wished on his worst enemy. A bad memory he wished would go away.
One Year Prior
"No." She pulled away and looked at the questioning look on his face. "I shouldn't do this Chance. I know what…what happened with Marshall, but I don't think I should get involved with you anymore than I already am." He was genuinely hurt. Of all the women he had known, Ilsa Pucci was the one who he had confided in most and given his heart to. But in this very moment, she was going to kindly hand it back to him. "Ilsa, please. I'm asking you not to go. If you want me to back off, I will, but I don't want you to get on that plane. Not now, not ever." She shook her head. "Chance, no. I am sorry. But I have already lost someone who I thought loved me and I don't want…" He cut her off. "Don't want what? To be hurt? Is that what you think I will do? If so, then you have legitimately lost your mind. I can tell you that without a doubt that you are the one person I would die for."
Ilsa knew that he was genuine, but she was sincerely afraid that there was a chance she might lose him, either through her own fault, or from an enemy's bullet. As much as she wanted to get into his Corvette, she couldn't. She had to let him go. The tears were starting to well up in her eyes and she had no intention of allowing him to watch her cry. Through a ragged final breath she sealed the inevitable. "Chance, I'm sorry."
Ilsa turned on her heel and walked towards the jet. As strong as Christopher Chance was, he couldn't get his feet to move. He could only watch as she disappeared into the fuselage. After standing dumbfounded for what seemed like an hour, he was jarred back into reality by the hanger attendant. "Excuse me sir, I need you to please move your car so we can depart." Chance came back around and nodded. He pulled his car to the boundary line and looked up to the multiple windows of the jet, hoping to see her. But as fate would have it, Ilsa had decided to occupy the opposite side of the aircraft. It was then clear to him that she sincerely wanted him out of her life for good.
Nestling into the plush leather seat, Ilsa did everything she could to keep composure. But, even as strong as she was, knowing she just walked away from a truly sincere man, caused every emotion to erupt. And erupt she did. The tears began to flow and she immediately grabbed for her purse to retrieve a handful of tissues. It had been years since she had cried this much. In fact, she had never even cried this hard at Marshall's funeral. It was apparent that this entire event was one that would scar her heart for a very long time.
Present Day
Chance finished his drink and stood up slowly. He checked his cell phone once more to read the final text from Winston. Shaking his head, he made his way to the door. The walk home, he figured, would help him put things into perspective. Winston had had enough of his somber mood. After Chance had disclosed the entire event of Ilsa leaving, Winston had to watch him fall into a foul mood bear for a year because Ilsa had decided that she wasn't ready for the next step. He had placed the blame on the both of them for being stubborn, but somehow blamed himself even more for not telling them both to just be together and happy. The burly man knew for a fact that because of their stubbornness, this last year of turmoil was the result. When he found out that Ilsa was going to be in town for a charity event, he put his foot down. So much that he actually called them both and told them they needed to at least talk if not more. Winston was no fool. He knew they shared a bed more than once, but it was more of the emotional side that concerned him. To see his ex-assassin partner and very close friend pass up things like video games, he knew there needed to be an intervention.
Chance pressed the button to the warehouse elevator and waited. He had hoped that if he did see Ilsa, that she would say the first words to him, because he felt like he might be completely incapable of any sort of reaction, considering his heart had turned to stone since she left that night. He didn't know how or when they were going to meet, but was aware that she would be in town for the next week.