Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Chance spent the night following the dispute with Winston and Guerrero playing video games and watching bits of TV in his living-room. Yes, a more appropriate term to describe his behavior would be "sulking". It was NOT true that he deliberately chose women who meant trouble just so that he didn't have to engage in a long-term relationship and risk getting attached!
He knew Winston and Guerrero were both thinking about Katherine Walters. They were both convinced he wasn't over her. Well yes, he was definitely still hell-bent on paying Baptiste back for taking that innocent woman's life. But this had more to do with him loathing his personal failure of not being able to protect her. He was mourning someone who had, more than anyone else he had ever met, not deserved to die.
But had he loved her?
Yes, the grace, generosity and mercy with which she faced the world had touched his heart, deeply. She had interfered to protect Guerrero although he had come to kill her.
Would things have worked out between them? He would have liked to find out.
Meeting Katherine, in hindsight, seemed more like a punishment to him - God's or fate's or whatever's custom made retribution for the deeds he had committed as an assassin - than the single great love story of his life. What could be more hurtful than finding someone you wish to protect more than anything else and then losing her to a professional hit?
He, as Junior, had snatched away so many lives... the loss of Katherine in this specific way was a very appropriate sentence.
Was he afraid of losing more people he cared about? Again, hell yeah. But that had nothing to do with deliberately dating the "wrong" women! Winston and Guerrero were absolutely, completely off the track with this! He did care about his exes, why else would he always take such huge risks when one of them was involved in a job? He wished they could stay together, really - it just wasn't meant to be.
He wasn't meant to be with someone forever. His past disqualified him for any kind of happily ever after.
... ... ...
Maybe it was because he had been thinking about Katherine so much, but in the rather early morning Chance decided to pack Carmine into the car and take him for a long walk in the coastal part of the Presidio. Carmine, of course, was excited. More often than not it was Winston who took him outside for a short stroll around the block. Being out with Chance, his beloved master ever since his puppy days, was a great treat.
Chance, however, couldn't help but think that he was failing Carmine, too. The dog needed a proper diet and regular training. He was definitely carrying too much weight around and his response time to commands was improvable, mildly put.
Extremely improvable, as it turned out.
On a vast stretch of grass between two groups of trees Chance let Carmine off his leash and threw a stick for him to fetch it. Carmine shot after the stick.
For about a split second.
Then he suddenly stopped.
Sniffed the air.
And off he went to the opposite side of the meadow.
"Carmine! CARMINE! Heel! HEEL!"
Apparently Carmine had just as many issues with orders as his master. He disappeared between the trees.
Cursing, Chance rushed after him.
On the other side of the group of trees was a bench overlooking the Bay. On the bench sat a woman. She was wearing a thick wool pullover and Jeans. The wind was tugging at her shoulder length brunette hair. She was frowning at Carmine from beneath rather huge dark-rimmed glasses. There was a sandwich in her hand.
No surprise the dog had lost all interest in the stick.
"He's harmless!", Chance yelled while approaching. Carmine was probably the gentlest soul one could think of, but he was a rather huge Rottweiler after all. At first glance he was quite intimidating, and since he had shown up out of the blue…
"I know", the woman replied. "His body language is relaxed: The eyes are in normal shape, neither too big nor too small, the mouth is slightly open, his ears are pulled back slightly – he's in friendly mood and hoping that I'll acknowledge his presence. I guess it's the sandwich that put me on his whitelist. Do you often feed him with food from the table?"
"Guess I spoiled him a bit when he was younger…" Chance wasn't quite sure what to make of the woman's lecture on canine behavior. In general he didn't like people who constantly felt the need to share their wisdom with the rest of the world. On the other hand it was quite impressive: She had only just met Carmine and not only correctly read his current "I'm a tiny puppy caught in this big body of a Rottweiler, a bit of your sandwich would make me soooo happy"-routine, she had also quite rightly guessed how he had developed that routine.
"A mistake a lot of people commit. Luckily lots of bad habits can be corrected with a bit of training and consistency on the owner's side. I suggest visiting a dog obedience school."
Ooookay, the woman had just crossed the line to being a female wiseass.
"You a dog trainer?", Chance asked, hooking Carmine to his leash once more.
"I grew up on a farm. Dogs can be valuable tools if trained correctly. Most people forget that they're dealing with wolves in disguise and treat their dogs like toys, or worse, humans in furry form."
"Well Carmine surely isn't a tool. He's a friend", Chance more or less snapped at her. Jeez, she had made it from "wiseass" to "annoyance" in under a minute.
"See, that's exactly what I'm talking about."
Chance decided not to grace her with an intelligible reply. Instead he mumbled something that included "well" and "yeah" and proceeded to pull Carmine away.
"A dog should always follow its master on the grounds of vocal commands or hand gestures…", the woman commented.
Rolling his eyes, Chance walked away.
… … ….
On his way back to the warehouse Chance stopped at a butchery and bought Carmine a fresh treat.
"Hey, what have you been up to?", Winston asked as they stepped out of the elevator.
"Met a normal girl!", Chance snarled and disappeared upstairs, into his private quarters.
At around the same time a telephone rang in a small apartment in Potrero Hill. A brunette woman, not terribly tall, a bit chubby around the hips, answered with a sigh. Her name was Jamie.
"So, did you go to see the sunrise?", the familiar voice of a very old friend, Cassandra, asked.
"Yes." Jamie was not a woman of many words. At least not when she had the feeling someone was intruding in her personal space.
"Yes…and?" Trust an old friend to not let go that easily.
"It was an elevating experience. Filled me with awe. I'm still completely overwhelmed."
Cassandra sighed. "Okay, and now the truth for a change…"
"I think I caught a cold."
Back in Wisconsin, Cassandra rubbed her forehead in slight frustration.
"There was also a guy with a spoiled dog", Jamie continued.
Cassandra needn't inquire further…