Authoress Note: Story takes place in the future. Some event changes will be explained in thoughts and all that jazz, so if you get confused, I apologize ahead xD Also this is prolly gonna be only three chapters or so... We'll see.

Authoress Extra Note: Wow... OK, so... This fic isn't going at all how I'd planned it xD See, I let my mind go slightly blank when I write, so it's just my fingers pretty much doing the work... If that makes any sense :/ So a lot of times even I'm not fully sure what I've written... I certainly didn't see this coming. So if it's OOC, I apologize. I tried. Also! My caps bar is glitching on me badly. Not sure what is wrong, but it's not letting me space sometimes. So I apologize for the possibility of any meshed words. I tried to go back and fix them all.

Also, awww, more nice reviews! Thanks cedricsowner, veniceiet, and niagaraweasel! You all make me smile I still hopeIm doing this story justice for ya.

July 18th and 19th, 2016

It was getting dark. She'd been up all day and was tired... But couldn't sleep.

After getting herself settled into a guest room of Chance's upstairs penthouse, she'd went back downstairs to find Ilsa and Winston had left. She'd glanced at the clock to see it was seven, so she wasn't to surprised. What she was surprised of, was finding Chance and Guerrero lazily sprawled on the couch, PlayStation three controllers in hand, and Mortal Kombat vs. DC on the screen and a large bottle of scotch being shared between them.

Ames smiled in amusement, and climbed over the couch to settle between them and watch. "All settled in?" Chance asked, lazily moving the controller and his character across the screen to Guerrero's, striking at him. "Yep," she answered, grabbing the scotch bottle and taking a small swig. "Dude, not cool," she sputtered as Guerrero pulled the bottle from her. "Hey! W-What was that for? I'm old enough to drink," she scowled, wiping the alcohol from her chin, sounding like her younger self. "Yeah but not to drink mine. Gotta earn that."

Chance chuckled, as she chucked a pillow at her old teacher, which he caught easily, but cussed as his character was taken down by Chances. "Dude! Totally cheating! Not cool," Guerrero scowled as the second round started up, quickly going in for the defensive offensive kill, as Chance laughed and kept his character at the ready.

This went on for the next six hours, both parties tied and on their last fight. They were all bordering on drunk, Ames having went to grab a bottle from Chance's collection, pissing Guerrero off by helping Chance win a good chunk of the matches. For the last match, Chance had decided to play as as Scorpion and Guerrero, much to her and Chance's amusement, had picked Catwoman. "What, dude? She's hot and kicks major ass," he'd defended, scowling as they continued to chuckle as the fight began.

Ames took a heavy swig of the Jack Daniels bottle in her hand, smirking as she stood up and climbed over the back, stumbling just a little. "Can't hold your liquor, shouldn't drink, dude," Guerrero muttered, pounding his thumbs and fingers on the controller. Ames flipped him off dismissively, swaying and making her way into the kitchen to put the bottle up. If she drank anymore, she was going to wake up with a hang over and she so wasn't in the mood for that.

Hungry, she began poking through the cabinets, grinning as she found a can of Pizza flavored Pringles. Popping open the can, she happily munched on the chips, making her way back into the living-room in time to see Guerrero win. "Told you do. She kicks ass," he explained, as Chance grumbled in defeat, throwing his hands up and dropping the controller before turning the game station and TV off.

Ames leaned against the kitchen doorway to keep herself steady, as she watched Chance pat Carmine's head as the old dog sat at his owners feet, starring up at him with droopy eyes. "You should totally look into getting him a girlfriend to knock up," Ames pointed to Carmine, before grabbing another chip. "He's getting along. You could so let him knock up another dog and get cute baby Carmine's." She grinned as the old dog hobbled over to her and licked his maw, before she gave him a chip to munch on.

"Ah, he's fine. He's still young," Chance said quickly. Ames pat the dogs large head and gave the older male a sympathetic frown. Carmine was Chance's only living link to the deceased Katherine. He cared greatly for the old dog. She felt saddened by how much the dogs death was going to affect him. "I'm just saying it's never a bad thing. Keep the line of lazy cute dogs going, ya know?"

Chance walked around the couch to crouch in-front of the old dog and pat him all over. "He's fine,"Chance repeated again, more fiercely this time, looking at the dog with a lost look, as Carmine licked his old masters face affectionately. Chance smiled and nudged his forehead to the dogs head, before getting up and quietly heading for the stairs. "I'm going to bed," was all he said before he jogged up the stairs.

Ames watched him until she couldn't hear or see him anymore. "Word of advice," Guerrero began, as he wiped at his glasses. "learn to keep that big mouth and thoughts to yourself." Ames frowned, as Guerrero walked around the couch, pushing his glasses on his face. Even without them, Ames could see his eyes were just slightly glazed, though he was doing a damn good job of trying to cover it up.

"I was only saying that Carmine could still make kids and he'd be able to leave behind another friend for Chance," Ames grumbled, startled at the dark expression that flashed across Guerrero's face. "It's not the dog, dude," he seemed to growl, "it's the memory with it. Another dog wouldn't be the same."

He was right. Carmine held the memory of Katherine Walters alive. A proof that she had been real. When he died, it would, to Chance, mean that Katherine had fully passed on and he had truly lost her. "That's depressing," Ames whispered, looking down at the Rottweiler, who had curled up and fallen asleep by the couch.

"His choice, dude."

Ames nodded, but still felt bad. She had never put into thought Chances past, but now that she was..She couldn't help but feel for him and feel that she was becoming closer to the team. Sighing, she sat the Pringles down. "I'm possibly drunk, I'm tired, and this shit is too heavy for me. I'm gonna crash," she made for the stairs but stopped. "What are you gonna do?"

She wasn't sure why she was asking. She was pretty sure he wasn't going to drive whatever he now drove around in. He was possibly drunker than her at the moment. She waited for an answer, but he ignored her and made for the kitchen.

She glared at his back, muttering "asshole", before heading upstairs to her temporary bedroom, stripping off her clothes and stepping into a dark pair of boy gym shorts and a black sports bra, pulling her hair out of its ponytail, before stumbling just slightly to the bathroom across the hall to brush her teeth and hair, letting it cascade against her back and on her shoulders.

As she swished the water around to clean the paste foam out of her mouth, out of the corner of her eye was movement. Spitting the water out and wiping at her mouth with a small towel, before throwing it into a laundry hamper (A laundry hamper in a bachelors bathroom? Ilsa. Ilsa had been here), she turned to find a shirtless Guerrero in a pair of black sweat pants and a glass and bottle of whiskey (which she recognized from snooping through Chances stuff, and was shocked to see it was already half empty).

That was odd. In the past, back when, on rare occasions, he would let her drink with him, she could recall that he kept himself limited and sober enough for his senses to still work properly. He was always so paranoid about that back then. Had that changed? It sure seemed it, because she had to wrinkle her nose at the strong alcohol and BO smell coming off him.

"You smell like shit," she finally commented, breaking the simple silence. Guerrero grunted and pushed past her to get into the closet behind her, his back to her. She couldn't help but stare at the fading scars and the blue butterfly tattoo. Back when she had first seen the tattoo, it had taken every ounce of her being to not ask about it. She wasn't dumb. She'd known what a tattoo like that meant to those who had been in prison.

He'd made it very, very, clear that he was never, ever, going back to prison. She had never inquired what had got him placed in prison, but she had been, and still was, curious. Winston wouldn't tell her, which was surprising that he even knew about Guerrero going to prison. "It's not a pretty story," the bigger male had grumbled, obviously sickened himself by the story. Ames had dropped it after that, but seeing it again made her curiosity all the more persistent.

"Don't ask," Guerrero cut into her thoughts, causing her to blink and realize that he was staring at her through the mirror, and that she had been staring to long at him. Looking away, she rinsed out her toothbrush and shook the water from it, before turning to try to leave, her exit blocked as she ran into the older male.

She sighed and looked up at him, startled as she looked into his eyes and saw something... Different. His normally emotionless eyes were swimming with them now. But they were flicking so fast, it was hard for her to process them all at once. Sadness, anger, pain, resentment, confusion... Lust? No, that last one had to have been a trick of her own eyes from the alcohol she had consumed herself. At the moment she wasn't as drunk as Guerrero, but her senses were far to dull to fully and truly process all that happened in front of her. So seeing something that hadn't happened was, yes, a possibility.

"Why did you leave?" His strong breath washed over her face, as he continued to block her exit. What was wrong with him? Why the sudden interest in her? When she had showed up he had treated her like some annoying kid (which wasn't any different from the old days) that he wanted to just go away. Now he was acting … Weird. It was like he wanted to say something, but couldn't form the words right.

Ames sighed. "I told you why I lef-" she stopped as, suddenly, she was forced back as Guerrero shut the bathroom door, and blocked it with his body. He didn't lock it. He just stood in-front of it and was staring at her. "No bullshit answer, Ames," he grumbled, startling her. It was rare for him to use her actual name. "Why did you leave. Full answer. Truth. Now."

His words were slurred. It was getting more noticeable as she stared at him, her arms crossed lazily against her chest. "What do you want me to say," she sighed. "I told you everything, Guerrero. I left because you and the others wouldn't take me seriously and I needed to improve myself. I was a dumb, cocky, kid. I was just getting in the way and I talked to much. Silas helped me. You all wouldn't and he stepped in. That's it."

She could see his body stiffen at Silas's name, and she sudden;y recalled exactly why Silas had told her he'd left his old life and the others. Why he believed Guerrero hated him; and he really did hate him. She could see it in his eyes. "They have kids now," Ames whispered, seeing his jaw tightened, opening up that she knew something of his past. "A boy and girl; twins. Aden and Serenity."

She could see so much pain and anger flickering in his glazed, bright blue, eyes now. It was so foreign for her to see this many emotions come from him. Change happened to everyone in time. You could fight it, but over the years, little by little, you change. She had. And, from what she was seeing, maybe Guerrero had as well.

"You saw her?" his voice was raw and almost sandpaper like. She nodded. "Yeah... She doesn't work anymore. She writes children books now. She's a stay at home mom..." her voice trailed off as she recalled the woman of there discussion. Blonde hair, light eyes, fair skin, curvy; and pretty dangerous when provoked.

Guerrero's shoulders slumped slightly, and he didn't move. She prayed he was going to let her out now. She was really tired, and all this was just giving her a headache. At least he wasn't a fist drunk like Brody was. God she couldn't even count how many fights she'd been in because of that maniac.

"Why did you leave," he asked again, pulling her from her thoughts. She groaned. Guerrero was a broken record drunk. Fucking wonderful. "I told you, Guer-" She was cut off as suddenly, startlingly, he slammed his fist down on the sink counter, the sound of all his knuckles cracking sending a sick shiver up her spine. God she hated that sound. "Dude! Stop lying. I may be drunk but I'm not stupid, Ames."

Ames shifted in her spot, as he opened and closed his possibly broken fist and stared at her. "Answer, now," he ordered, and Ames, much to her horror, felt her younger, cockier, side poke out as she whispered. "Or else what?"

His expression darkened as he pushed forward, and she, annoyingly, stepped back once, before catching herself and stopping. No1 Don't back down! Stand firm, dammit! He may be 'The Guerrero, King of Torture', but she wasn't that cocky, stupid and younger, Ames anymore. She wasn't going to back down from him anymore; even if it was have her dead at the bottom of the ocean.

He was now in her face, close. It seemed that, sober or drunk, Guerrero, when interrogating or threatening, would get close and personal for discomfort. It was working. She felt wary of being this close to him while he was this drunk and unpredictable. Sober she might be able to prepare herself. Drunk, Guerrero was almost a whole other, open, person.

She could smell him. His alcohol coated breath. The sweat from the alcohol in his system. The cologne he used. The faint smell of bleach and copper; blood. And an almost faint, unnoticeable smell of cookies and crayons. His sons touch. He was looking in her eyes, as he growled, swaying slightly on his feet. "Why?" was all he aid, his voice low.

"Why do you want to know so badly," she asked, keeping her eyes on his. Why did he? What did it matter. Hell, it had taken her three of her five year absence to discover why else she had left them. He didn't need to know. But he wanted to, and he wanted to badly. Why? "Why is it so important? I left. What does knowing the other reason do for you?"

He continued to lock eyes with her as best as his condition would allow. His face was close to hers. It made her heart thump like a quickly beaten drum against her chest. She had to fight the quiver through her body and voice as she spoke, as she looked at him. "Why?"he repeated again, ignoring her questions.

She stared deep into his eyes as best as she could now. There was a new, just noticed, tension in the room that she felt fully seep into her system as she slowly parted her mouth, her lips moving to answer him; to tell him what she hadn't wanted him to know. "Because of you," she whispered, seeing his eyes darken. "I left because of you."

R&R

Wow. I thought this was going to take forever, but once I found my flow again, everything went back... And I'm sure by now you all are giving me this "WTFingF" look, ight? It's OK. I understand.

Next chapter will be started up tomorrow hopefully and published soon.