Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target, I just write this for fun and REVIEWS!
Author's note: This is part 2 of what was only ever intended to be a two part speculation on what Ilsa and Chance really think of each other so the plot is a little thin on the ground. I just wanted to have a little poke around in their heads to see what they felt for each other and what mental blocks might have to be broken down before they could be shipped.
Ilsa Pucci was a pain in the ass. She had been from day one and Chance knew that, despite her promises, she would never simply sit back and be a silent benefactor. Usually he could palm her off on Winston and avoid the never ending stream of questions and objections each new case seemed to bring, but this time she had seized on the idea of going with him to the museum to set up the surveillance kit. He wasn't happy about it and argued against it long after he knew he wouldn't be able to change her mind. Even Winston waded in, pointing out that it was easier to throw her a bone than have her interfering at a less convenient time to prove a point. So he agreed, reluctantly, to take her along.
Getting into the museum itself was almost embarrassingly easy. Guerrero had set them up with all the necessary passcards and the locks that weren't electronic were simple enough to pick. Chance was amused with Ilsa's horror at the ease with which they gained access to the building, she seemed to see it as a violation of some great temple of learning. To him of course it was just another building, it's contents and whatever ideals it stood for were of no consequence when what mattered was getting in and out cleanly.
He'd warned her that she'd have to dress appropriately and she'd obliged by swapping her usual high heels, chic pencil skirt and designer blouse for jeans, a sweater and sneakers, all in dark colours. It was strange to see her wearing something other than her self-imposed office uniform or a couture evening gown and it struck him how much smaller she seemed dressed in street clothes. Her usual clothes were part of the armoury she used to play her role as head of the Marshall Pucci Foundation and without them to hide behind she seemed somehow fragile.
Once Chance had convinced her that talking very softly was a lot more discreet than hissing at him in a loud stage whisper, Ilsa wasn't too much of a hindrance. She had a surprisingly light step when treading softly in sneakers, a stark contrast in comparison to the sharp clack of her high heels as she strode about the office.
Despite her pathological need to interfere with his work, Chance liked Ilsa, and respected her even. It had taken a lot to track him down at the ashram, and not just money. Finding him would not have been easy and must have taken a lot of initiative and determination, not to mention serious balls. He never did get a completely satisfactory explanation from Ilsa as to how she managed to find him and she took such delight in being vague about the details that he let her keep her secret. He could make a fair assumption as to how it was achieved and it seemed important to her to feel as though she had got one over on him, so letting her win that round had seemed harmless enough.
In hindsight though, letting her feel in charge may have been a mistake, especially if following him 'into the field' was going to be a regular occurrence. She should never be in the firing line, it wasn't her job and he hated the additional responsibility of watching not only his own back but a passenger too. To be able to function, Chance needed to compartmentalise and Ilsa just wouldn't stay in her assigned box. When she was his client he'd protected her and as his benefactor he was willing and grateful to make use of her money and resources but what she was asking him to do now was something different and dangerous. Whether she realised it or not, she was forcing herself in to a world that destroyed all but the most ruthless and vicious. There was no place in it for joyriders.
Placing bugs was at least a fairly routine gig with little in the way of surprises to worry about. Chance had placed about half of the devices, with Winston guiding him via his earpiece as to the best positions and angles to avoid blind spots, when his friend suddenly barked a warning that the security guard was making his rounds. Chance reacted immediately and grabbed Ilsa, shoving them both out of sight in an unlit recess behind a display.
For the next couple of minutes his attention was focused on the security guard, although luckily he did notice that Ilsa was holding her breath and reminded her to breathe before her body did that for her. If she had held it too long she wouldn't have been able to overcome a loud automatic gasp for oxygen, which would have definitely attracted the guard's attention. When the guard moved on Chance went to continue the task of bugging the room but was surprised to find Ilsa remained frozen in her hiding place against the wall. He swore softly causing some momentary panic from Winston in his earpiece.
"It's okay." He muttered. "Ilsa's just frozen up for a moment."
He crept back to their hiding place.
"Ilsa!" He hissed. There was no response. He pulled on her arm. "C'mon! It's okay, we're good to go!"
Her eyes lost their distant look as she snapped back to the here and now.
"Lead the way, Chance." She said imperiously. "I'm right behind you."
Chance decided against berating her for letting her mind wander. He could talk to her about the importance of remaining focused later. As he planted the last of the bugs, he paused to allow Ilsa the chance to look at the exhibition that she had insisted on seeing. Curiously, she seemed to have lost interest in the items. It would appear that his gut feeling was right, tonight's escapade had more to do with thrill-seeking than it did to do with art appreciation.
"Do you want a closer look?" He asked her. She looked puzzled for a second before realising he was offering to remove items from their display for her too examine.
"Oh no! I couldn't possibly! They are so fragile, I wouldn't want to damage them!"
He shrugged, unsurprised by her answer.
"Well if you've finished looking, we should probably get out of here."
Ilsa nodded and followed him as he retraced their steps out of the museum.
Back at the office Winston was keen to hear how the job had gone as soon as Ilsa was out of earshot.
"It was fine." Chance said in response to the barrage of questions. "She was a bit awkward and she was in a world of her own for a moment whilst we were hiding from the guard but she soon snapped out of it."
"Did she get her look at the exhibit?" Winston asked.
"Yeah." He replied. "Although when it came to it she didn't seem that bothered."
"I was afraid of that." Winston frowned. "This might sound crazy but I think that…"
"She's thrill seeking dude." Guerrero cut in. Winston glared at the man who had yet again popped up mid-conversation and stolen his metaphorical thunder by blurting out the insight he'd been leading up to.
"I know." Chance said.
"Is it gonna be a problem?" Guerrero asked, ignoring the evil looks Winston was shooting his way.
Chance sighed, "It could be. It depends how far she's going to push it."
"Maybe you should dial down your whole noble warrior vibe for a bit then dude." Guerrero sniggered.
"My what?" Chance spluttered.
"Come on Chance, you know what he means." Winston said awkwardly. "You've played the hero card to female clients in the past, taken advantage of a few er… fringe benefits. Ilsa's not immune you know."
"No," Chance said, shaking his head. "You've got that all wrong. Ilsa identifies me more with her husband's killers than some kind of hero figure. She despises the things that I've done."
"You're a reformed character, Chance." Winston pointed out. "That kind of makes you even more heroic in Ilsa's eyes."
"You're damaged goods, bro. Chicks dig that." Guerrero grinned. "You're all broken and she wants to fix you."
Chance mulled that over for a minute. Ilsa had chosen to go on a job with him specifically, not Guerrero, Winston or Ames, him. She had frozen up after they had been pressed together in the darkness. Could her distraction have had more to do with his physical proximity than the risk of being discovered? He shook his head. It seemed pretty far fetched.
"Whatever. Ilsa isn't going on any more jobs. She's a liability." He said firmly. Guerrero shrugged and disappeared back to the kitchen, having lost interest in the whole topic.
"Chance," Winston said, "I'm serious about this. If Ilsa…"
"Enough," Chance interrupted. "I'm not going to speculate on whether or not Ilsa has a crush on me! It's ridiculous! She got her kicks at the museum tonight and that's it. No more tagging along for the ride! If she tries to take part in another mission it's gonna be up to you to set her straight!"
With that Chance slunk off leaving Winston alone in the office.
Man, Winston thought to himself, this is gonna get messy.