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An Ames/Guerrero fic.
Chapter Three.
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Disclaimer: See Ch. 1.
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A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/alerts on this story so far, you guys rock!
I'm glad you're enjoying this one so far. I'm not sure how long this one is going to be - I never know, lol. Hopefully it'll be at least ten chapter, maybe more.
In this one, some preparations are made for Matty, and the little boy has a tough question for Ames.
I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it.
As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!
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Nightfall had settled over the city of San Francisco, and Chance and Guerrero still weren't back. They left for Guerrero's apartment to gather the necessary equipment, knowing that if they'd found Elizabeth and Matty, that it was too risky to go back to the place he was in now. Ames wasn't entirely sure how long it took to completely erase all evidence of someone like Guerrero, but she imagined it would take some time.
Until then, she, Winston, Ilsa, and Matty were on lockdown at the office. The exits were sealed and monitored constantly by Ilsa and Winston, and they were all armed - discretely, of course. They didn't want to scare the poor boy.
Glancing at the clock, Ames figured they wouldn't be back before it was time for Matty to go to bed. Assuming, of course, that he went to bed at a regular time for someone his age.
"Alright, Matty, I think it's time for a bath," Ames told him, sitting up from couch.
Matty glanced at her from where he'd previously been sitting next to her, reading one of his books. "With bubble bath?"
Ames was fairly certain Chance didn't have bubble bath lying around the house, but she could probably improvise something. "We'll see."
"Okay," Matty replied, hopping down from the couch.
Ilsa watched them head up to the bathroom with a soft smile on her face, a hand falling softly on her chest as she watched Matty grab hold of Ames's hand to jump from step to step.
Winston sidled up next to her, watching the scene for a moment.
"That's beautiful, isn't it?" she spoke.
"It's definitely something," Winston commented.
"Oh, come on now," Ilsa replied. "Must you be a grouch about everything, Mr. Winston?" When he merely shrugged, Ilsa spoke again. "Miss Ames definitely seems to have a knack for taking care of him."
"Makes sense," Winston said with a sigh, glancing back at the cameras in the other room.
"How do you mean?" Ilsa wanted to know.
"Well, growing up in foster care ... kids learn to take care of each other," Winston explained. "He's probably not the first kid she's gotten ready for a bath, or read stories too. Probably won't be the last, either."
Ilsa smiled sadly at that thought, her eyes remaining on the stairs, even though the other two had since disappeared onto the upper floor. "I do hope Mr. Chance and Mr. Guerrero return soon. It's getting rather late."
Winston nodded. "Mm-hmm. You and me both."
Upstairs, Ames rooted around in the duffel that Guerrero had packed, pulling out Matty's toothbrush, toothpaste, and a pair of pajamas.
"What about bubble bath?" the boy asked her, standing in the middle of the bathroom floor.
Ames grinned, turning the tap in the tub on, waiting until it was just warm enough before moving to the counter. She pulled out some bottled soap, and Chance's shampoo, and then turned back towards the tub. "This is how we used to make bubble bath when I was a kid," she told Matty, sitting on the edge of the slowly filling tub. She then opened each bottle, angling them so that when she squirted, the soap and shampoo fell into the flowing water from the tap, getting churned into the water as it went into the tub.
Matty watched her with interest, beaming when he saw that it was working. "Cool!" he replied, tugging on his shirt to remove it.
Ames gave him his privacy while he undressed, grabbing a towel from the closet. Once he was in the tub, she set the towel down on the counter and pulled one of his storybooks out of his duffel bag. A picture came out with it, falling gently to the floor.
"Careful with that!" Matty told her, looking down at the picture.
Ames nodded, picking it up carefully and glancing at it. She blinked a few times, unaccustomed to seeing Guerrero looking so ... happy. At ease. It was odd, to say the least. "This is a cool picture of you two," she commented, sliding it back into the duffel bag.
Matty nodded his head in agreement, cupping his hands together to grab a bunch of bubbles, making himself a beard.
Ames settled down against the wall of the bathroom, pulling open the book to begin reading, and trying to shake the image of a carefree, smiling, fatherly Guerrero out of her mind.
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Though Matty had gotten through his bath and teeth-brushing well enough, when it came time for him to go to bed, he was just a mess. He was exhausted and needed to sleep, but his exhaustion had him missing his mom, and that want was manifesting in tears and hiccoughs.
Ames did her best to console him, but it wasn't until she laid down in the bed with him that he calmed down even a little bit.
"Will I ever see her again?" Matty asked with a sniffle.
Ames sighed, looking down at the boy who was curled up beside her. "Well ... yes, and no. You'll see her in your dreams, and in your memories. Sometimes, it'll feel like she's right next to you, or like she's watching over you."
Matty pouted. "It's not the same."
Ames nodded sadly. "I know, buddy. I know it sucks."
"Why did the bad men hurt her?" Matty wanted to know.
Ames didn't know how to answer that, so she just said, "Because they're bad men. Bad men do bad things."
Matty considered that. He was silent for a long time; so silent, that Ames had begun thinking he had drifted off to sleep. With one hand behind her head, and the other pinned underneath the five-year old, she doubted she'd be able to make an escape without stirring him.
"Ames?" Matty spoke after another moment.
Clearly, he hadn't been sleeping.
"Yes, Matty?"
The young boy worried his lip between his teeth, thinking of his words. "Is my daddy a bad man?"
Ames blinked several times, surprised to hear him ask that. "What makes you say that, kiddo?"
Matty sighed deeply. "Mommy always cried after he left ... you said bad men do bad things, and making someone cry is bad. So, is my daddy bad, too?"
Ames scratched the back of her head with her hand, thinking over the question. By normal standards, the obvious answer was yes. Sure, he worked with them - mostly because of Chance - and helped people, but he was no saint. He had a life outside of the work that they did that wasn't exactly legal. He hurt people ... a lot of people. He was the reigning champion of torture. Ames looked down at the boy beside her, and thought back to the look on Guerrero's face when Elizabeth had called him. She thought of him holding Matty in his arms, and carrying him out of the house. Finally, she answered the boy, "No, he's not a bad man. I don't think he meant to make your mom cry, Matty. Sometimes, people get sad when other people leave. Guer - your daddy is gonna find the bad men who hurt your mom, and make sure they don't hurt anyone else. That makes him one of the good guys, doesn't it?"
The answer seemed to appease Matty, and after a while he sighed and closed his eyes.
Neither of them noticed the slightly short man watching them from the doorway.
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Guerrero made his way back down the stairs, nodding to Ilsa. "He's crashed."
"I'm not surprised," Ilsa replied. "He's had quite the ordeal today."
Guerrero nodded once again, knowing the truth behind that statement.
Ilsa regarded him for a moment, tilting her head. "How are you doing?"
Guerrero stared back at her. "Meaning?'
"Well ... he's not the only one who lost someone important. Are you feeling -"
Guerrero cut her off. "Let's not do the share and care. I have work to do." He moved into the office, pulling out the bag of fingers that he'd put on ice earlier. He loaded up the appropriate software on the computerized table, and then began scanning them in one at a time.
Chance followed him into the room, less put-off by the handless fingers than Ilsa or Winston. "What do you need me to do?"
Guerrero tossed him the cell phones he'd collected from the men at the house. "Start looking for common numbers. Elizabeth said the guys were talking to someone on the phone before I got there, possibly whoever ordered the hit."
Chance nodded, sitting down at the table and going through the first phone. He jotted down a couple numbers as he went through the contact lists and recent calls.
When Guerrero was finished scanning in the fingers he put them back on ice, and then began loading the pictures he'd taken with his phone.
Chance watched his oldest friend's stoic demeanor, feeling for him. "We're gonna get these guys. You know that, right?"
Guerrero nodded. After a moment, he looked up from what he was doing and held Chance gaze. "And you know that I'm not going to let Isla or Winston have them arrested, right? They came after my family, Chance ... they die."
Chance didn't respond, simply maintained the steady gaze for a few more seconds, and then nodded once. He didn't honestly know what he would do when it came down to it: would he stop Guerrero from murdering them in cold blood, would he sit back and do nothing, or would he help his friend avenge the death of his son's mother?
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End of chapter three.
Well, what did you guys think of that one? Like it, hate it?
Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.
Until next time ...!