Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

A/N: This is an altered version of my one-shot "umbrellas".

~ through a glass darkly ~

A job had brought them to the north, where an old cop buddy of Winston's had set up camp. Winston and Leonard had spent their rookie years together on the streets of San Francisco, with the more level-headed, calmer Leonard saving the impulsive, impatient young Winston's ass more than once. It had surprised Winston quite a bit when he had heard Leonard and a partner were offering services in the security sector now, too.

"I'd have never thought you'd leave the force", he told him over a glass of beer.

"Me neither", Leonard replied. "But one day, out of the blue, you meet somebody, you discover you're not that different after all, you start talking a bit and before you know it your life is never the same again."

Winston thought of his first encounter with Chance and could only agree. His life had been ticking a long. Not exactly nicely, with his divorce from Michele, the problems with Broward and all, but there had been a certain rhythm to it, a certain predictability. Then he had met Chance and all predictability had gone out of the window.

"There was a time when I thought umbrellas were harmless…", Leonard mused.

"The metal parts are great for lock picking", Winston nodded.

"Breaking into cars…"

"Redirecting telephone calls…"

"Escaping cold storage rooms…"

"Hot-wiring a bomb…"

"Convincing people that one is an up-and-coming designer and the spokes are modern jewelry", Leonard finished their little list.

"Your partner must be quite a character", Winston smiled knowledgeably. This sounded like Leonard had found his own personal Chance. He was glad for him. Everybody should have a Chance in his life.

They chinked glasses.

Shortly after Leonard received a telephone call. "Looks like a new job has come in", he said. "Was great to see you, Winston."

"Next time you're in the Bay area, let me know. We'll go back to Lucy's…"

"The old fella still hanging in?"

"You bet he is…"

Man, they had been through some shit together.

They said their good-byes.

As Winston stepped out on the street, light rain was falling. It was dark and the sky was obscured with thick gray clouds. He had parked his car a couple of blocks away from the bar. Parking in this city was a bitch. His footsteps echoed ominously on the glistering wet sidewalk. At this hour of the night the world seemed like a deserted place, with no one else outside, but Winston didn't worry about getting robbed. His large frame was usually enough to keep the occasional petty crook away and for those stupid or desperate enough to try anyway, he carried his trusty 45er.

Slowly making his way to the parking space he started chuckling, recalling the conversation he had just had with Leonard. Umbrellas… Yeah, he wished he had one right now… but Guerrero had used his last one to hot-wire that bomb in Houston.

There was a time when I thought umbrellas were harmless…

How true, how true.

Suddenly the chuckle in Winston's throat died.

An unbidden but very insistent memory had sprung up in the back of his mind. He tried to shake it off, but it clung to his consciousness like a bat, tiny claws digging deep into his thought process.

What had Leonard said? Umbrellas were also good for convincing people that one was an up-and-coming designer and the spokes were modern jewelry?

About a year ago the police in Denver, where another old buddy of his was captain now, had had to deal with a professional hit. The case was still unsolved. The assassin had pretended to be…

That had to be a coincidence. That couldn't be. NO. It was impossible. Leonard was his friend.

The thought was so unbearable, Winston had to stop and grab a streetlamp. His first impulse was to turn around and walk back to the bar, confront Leonard about it. But he had surely left in the meantime, for a new… job.

Heavens.

His next impulse was to call Chance, tell him all about it, confer with him what to do, but why call him? Last time he had seen him and Guerrero they had been ready to go down to the hotel bar, testing Ilsa's tolerance on business expenses. It would be much easier to explain everything to them in person.

Yes. That's what he would do. Another plus: He could be with Guerrero when he started digging around in Leonard's and his partner's business and stop him from obtaining any information that was not relevant to the case.

Good lord, he was already referring to Leonard as a case!

Winston shook his head. The matter would clear up. In a couple of hours, tops, unless Guerrero and Chance had hit the bar hard, but Winston doubted it. Their job had ended well, the client was sound and safe, no need to drown unpleasant memories. On the other hand, Ilsa was not around… Maybe they had decided to take advantage of the situation. When the cat's away…

He decided he needed to get back to the hotel as fast as possible. Fiercely determined now, he pushed himself off the streetlamp, set foot on the road…

Brakes screeched.

A young driver violently jerked at his steering wheel.

His father's car swerved, doing a half turn around, but it was to no avail. The rear hit Winston.

Hard.