Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target, but my husband once cut Michael Caine's hair. True story.
Author's note: I could lie and say I've been too busy to post this sooner but the truth is I'm just fighting the urge to hibernate. BTW Human Target now has two forums on FFnet in it's honour! So now there's no excuse not to talk with your fellow HT-ers! (Not sure if the HTers thing will catch on...hmmm.) There will soon be a Human Target Fan Collective facebook page too so don't forget to show your support for the show and 'like' it.
"For the last few months I've been taking diving trips out round Catalina Island," Pen explained. "Just the usual tourist bullshit. Everyone of them convinced they're gonna find sunken treasure. It's easy money but man, it's dull! Anyway, I decided it was time for a change of pace after we had a group that included a guy who spent the entire day chucking his guts up over the side of the boat. At the end of the day all the passengers have paid up and gone ashore and we're about an hour out on our way back to the mainland when I hear this noise coming from bellow deck and sure enough it was the passenger from earlier pebble-dashing the galley. I don't know how he managed to get back on board but I was so not gonna waste time and fuel taking him back to Catalina, so I figure I'll just ditch him when we stop to refuel in LA."
"So this job you mentioned, it's to do with this stowaway?" Winston asked.
"Yeah." Pen nodded. "As soon as I found him he started begging me to hide him. He wouldn't tell me his name but he kept going on and on about how there were people trying to kill him and hiding out on the Indi was the only way he could get off the island without being seen."
"The Indi?" Ames asked.
"The Indigo Bell, my boat," Pen explained. "I was heading north anyway so I figured I'd drop in and see you guys and see if you could help him out. He wouldn't even leave the Indi when we stopped to refuel. I don't know what he's running from but he's definitely in deep shit. No one who gets that seasick would chose to hide out on a boat unless they really had to. I told him I knew some people that might be able to help but when we docked he was too scared to leave the Indi. I didn't really feel like dragging him kicking and screaming through the streets of San Francisco so he's still hiding out on the boat with Johno and Sam."
"Who…?" Ames began to ask.
"Pen's crew." Guerrero interrupted, anticipating her question.
"I'm a still a little hazy as to how all this led to you and Chance going on an all night drinking session." Winston said, wrinkling his brow in mock confusion.
"Aww, you're just jealous 'cause we didn't invite you along!" Pen gave Winston's arm a friendly punch and he winced.
"It was my fault, Winston." Chance owned up. "When Pen called last night I suggested we meet at a bar by the docks. I should have know things would deteriorate in to a bar crawl."
"Trust me dude," Guerrero said giving Chance a pointed look, "You wouldn't have wanted a call from either of them last night. I had stuff to do but when I switched my cell on this morning I had forty three missed calls and six voicemails, three of which involved singing."
Chance groaned and held his aching head in his hands. Pen laughed and thumped her hands on the table, making Chance flinch.
"So I take it you never actually got around to meeting this new client then?" Winston asked.
"No," Chance said, a bit shamefaced. "We got a bit distracted."
"I found them chasing seagulls around the dock with half a bottle of absinthe." Guerrero said smirking.
"Why?" Ames asked. She was having a bit of trouble imagining Chance behaving quite so childishly, even if he was drunk.
"Because," Pen grinned, "I told Chance that…"
"Pen!" Chance pleaded. "Can't you just leave out the details?"
"…if you fed a seagull absinthe it would fly backwards!"
"But that's ridiculous!" Ames protested as all eyes turned to Chance.
"I know," he mumbled as he leaned on the table and rested his forehead on his arms, "but it was a great excuse to chase seagulls."
Guerrero laughed. Ames could see that he already knew Chance was capable of behaving like a kid, which made sense as he'd known him far to long to be easily surprised by his behaviour, however odd. Winston looked surprised but not that shocked, and he too had a chuckle at Chance's expense. Ames decided that perhaps Winston expected Chance to act childishly around Pen. Perhaps stuff like this had happened before.
"Maybe we should go get this stowaway of yours, Pen." Winston said. "It seems to me, we won't know if we've got a case or not until we hear his story. Chance, you better go take a shower before you even think of taking this to Ilsa."
"Probably a good idea." Chance said sitting up. "I'm not going to be sober enough to drive for a while. Guerrero can go with Pen to pick up the client. I'm sure he'll be persuasive enough to make him leave the boat."
"It's probably safer for the gulls too, dude." Guerrero smirked, as he picked up his car keys. Pen got up and followed him out.
"See ya later." She called out over her shoulder.
Chance retrieved some painkillers from a cupboard and slunk upstairs to take his shower, leaving Winston and Ames to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Winston sighed and walked over to the sink. Ames got up and made a move towards the door but she wasn't quite fast enough.
"Hold it right there missy." Winston said in an authoritative tone that Ames hated, but couldn't help responding to. He tossed her a pair of washing up gloves, which she caught. "I'm not a maid. You can help me clean this mess up."
Ames pulled a face but reluctantly pulled on the gloves and pitched in. They worked in silence for a few minutes, cleaning the pans, loading the dishwasher and wiping down the surfaces.
"How long have Chance and Guerrero known Pen?" Ames asked.
"The three of them go way back." Winston replied. "Since before Chance was Chance."
"But you said she was Guerrero's contact, not Chance's."
Winston shrugged, "I first met Pen a few years ago when Guerrero called her in for a job so I guess I just think of her as one of his contacts. They probably all met around the same time. Why does it matter?"
"It doesn't, I suppose. It's just weird how relaxed they are with her around. I guess I thought that someone from the bad old days would make Chance feel weird. Edgy weird, not chasing seagulls weird."
"Chance tends to stay away from people from his old life but I think he has a bit of a soft spot for her. Pen wasn't ever exactly an active part of that scene," Winston explained. "Her father was someone Chance's old boss called on from time to time. Pen wasn't kidding when she said he was a pirate. As I understand it, when Chance's boss needed one of his men to disappear for a while he would sometimes send them to work for Pen's father. Chance worked on his ship a quite a few times, sometimes for months. They weren't exactly in business together but it was an arrangement that suited them both. Pen's father got free labour for a few months and Chance's boss kept his men out of sight whilst they got a little training in the shadier aspects of working at sea."
"Makes sense I guess." Ames said smiling. Mental images of Chance the pirate vied for space in her head with the idea of him chasing seagulls. "So did Pen live on her dad's ship?"
"She lived with her mother until she was a teenager. I got the impression that she was a bit of a handful, even then. I don't know the details, but at some point she was either kicked out by her mother or she walked out and she went to sea with her dad. Chance happened to be working on board at the time and he looked out for her."
"Didn't her dad do that?" Ames asked. "Watch out for her, I mean."
"I don't think so." Winston said. "From what I've heard, he wasn't exactly the doting father. Chance kept her out of trouble, to start with at least."
Ames mulled this over for a while. There was still one question she really wanted to ask.
"So Chance and Pen are they, you know, more than friends?"
"Do you want to answer that, Chance?" Winston said.
Ames spun round to see Chance standing in the doorway towel drying his hair. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans but his feet were bare. She was impressed that Winston had even known he was there, Chance hadn't made a sound.
"No Ames," Chance said smiling at her predictable curiosity. "Pen and I are just friends. We don't see each other that way."
"Not your type then?" Ames joked with a wink.
"Not everything is about sex." Chance shrugged.
"Yeah, but when you're at sea, not much in the way of female company…" Ames let the sentence unfinished and smiled suggestively.
"The last guy who saw Pen as a solution to loneliness at sea lost more than just a testicle." Chance replied. "She's a friend. Sleeping with her would just be…" he pulled a face and shuddered theatrically, "gross!"
Ames knew that he was poking fun at her. She folded her arms and gave him her best 'what-ever!' look. He copied her movements and exaggerated his imitation of her facial expression by frowning and jutting out his bottom lip. Ames could hear Winston sniggering behind her.
"Oh, grow up!" She snapped and stormed out of the kitchen with as much dignity as possible whilst still wearing bright yellow rubber gloves.
"I don't think you've quite sobered up just yet." Winston said smiling at Chance, who was still pulling faces. "I think it might be advisable for you to drink some more coffee before we tell Ilsa about the new case."