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

The warehouse.

"Harry." Winston took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses. "How did you meet Nelly?"

Harry threw himself into hero pose. "She was sitting on a bench in the Botanical Garden, looking at a statue of John McLaren. I just happened to pass her by when someone opened fire on her."

"He saved my life", Nelly said, smiling reluctantly at Harry. "If he hadn't grabbed me and thrown me to the ground… I was totally lost in thought, I never saw it coming…"

"Of course I immediately offered her my help." Harry was practically swollen with pride.

"Yeah, about that…" Winston threw Chance a look. "You're his friend. You burst his bubble", said that look.

Chance sighed. "Well, the good news is…" he turned to Nelly "…your community is not after you. They're all shades of wacky, but they're definitively not a defector killing sect."

Nelly made a triumphant "I told you so!"- gesture in the direction of Harry and her face spoke of great relief, but only for a moment, then the deep lines of worry returned. "So who is after me?", she asked, bracing herself for the worst.

"No one's after you", Guerrero stated flatly.

"Does the name "Elton Dorset Construction" tell you anything, HARRY?", Winston asked, staring pointedly at him.

Harry shifted in his seat. "That's confidential…"

"Harry." Guerrero didn't need to say anything else.

"I tried to – erm – retrieve information from their office, for a client…"

"When?"

"I think it was on the… I'm not quite sure, I've got to check my…."

"The day before you met Nelly?", Winston volunteered.

"Yes! How do you know?"

Chance sighed again. He felt truly sorry for his friend. "When you broke into Dorset's office, you tripped the alarm system."

Harry nodded. "Yes, but of course I had thought about an escape route and managed to get away."

"You managed to get away because the cops ran into an art theft that was going on one floor below Dorset's office", Winston explained, trying not to sound like talking to a child. "The theft was ordered by Tony Bevilacqua, who didn't take kindly to the defeat of his plans."

Slowly – very slowly – realization dawned on Harry's face. "I am the target here? Those thugs are after me? She just happened to sit there when someone opened fire on me? The only one who exposed Nelly to danger was me?"

He looked like a kicked puppy again, and this time Chance could do nothing to ease his pain.

… … …

An office building in San Francisco's FiDi, a couple of days later.

"This…", Ames snorted, "…is ridiculous. Are you really serious about this? You want me to stand here and that's it?"

"Something wrong with your hearing?" Guerrero's tone via earpiece made it very clear that the matter wasn't up for debate.

Ames blew her bangs away from her face. It wasn't that she didn't understand the plan, it was more that her fingers were itching. Standing right next to this enormously valuable painting and not being allowed to touch it, much less take it from the wall and steal it was a truly frustrating experience.

Ten long minutes passed by before she heard from Guerrero again: "That should be sufficient. You can meet them now."

"If I had really stolen that painting it would've taken me less than three minutes!", she grumbled under her breath and picked up the painting that had been resting at her feet. She quietly slipped out of the building, looked around then handed it to the driver of the SUV with the tinted windows. Chance was hiding in the building's shadow, gun at the ready. There was no trusting Tony Bevilacqua.

"And you think Bevilacqua won't notice that we gave him the copy instead of swapping the paintings?", Winston asked Guerrero as Ames and Chance slowly made their way back to the van.

"First of all, dude, Bevilacqua wants the painting for himself, out of sentimental reasons. It's not likely he'll have an expert's report made on it. Secondly Neal Caffrey's forgeries are the best. There's still a work of his on display in the MoMa. We owe him a favor now, by the way."

… … …

The warehouse. A couple of hours later.

Winston had left his cell phone at the office. He was surprised to find Guerrero in the conference room, apparently working on the computer. It looked like he was installing new software.

"Do I want to know?"

At this very moment they heard movement upstairs and a short time later Chance appeared, barefooted, hair a bit unruly, probably from sleeping on the sofa. Guerrero quickly closed the window that indicated the software had been successfully installed.

"So you found the cookies Nelly sent to say thank you", Winston stated, nodding at the crumbs on Chance's shirt. "Did you leave any for us?

Chance replied with a boyish grin and a shrug of his shoulders. "I almost had to dance naked around a fire…"

"Don't know what she's thanking us for anyway", Guerrero mused. "She never actually was in trouble."

They sat in silence for a long moment, all thinking about the same thing – Ames had given them a very vivid description of what Nelly was going through every night.

"There's something about those nightmares that's bothering me a great deal", Chance finally spoke up. "Call Ames, we'll take a closer look at them."

"What about Ilsa?", Winston asked.

Speaking of bothering...

Chance shook his head. He had tried to talk to Ilsa about her reelection, but she had been pretty elusive lately. Usually that was his part. What the hell was she up to?

As soon as they'd thrown some light on the Nelly issue, he'd do some digging.

A/N: Thank you, another-all-nighter, as always, for your review! I can't stress how much feedback means to me. Writing that prayer was fun! My favorite part, however is: pregnant teenager? close enough!