Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
The airport. Outside the plane.
Chance did his best to ignore the voices in his ear as he approached the airplane with Emma.
"One last time, take off the watch!" Winston was adamant.
"Dude, stop bugging him. He knows what he's doing…"
"Chance purposefully put on the watch he stole from Baptiste. It'll piss him off to no end and you're supporting this?", Winston couldn't believe it.
"Trust him, dude…"
"Is that watch new? I've never seen you with it", Emma remarked, nodding at Chance's wrist as they boarded the plane.
"What good should provoking Baptiste do?" Winston was angry. From his point of view, Chance was taking an unnecessary risk.
"It's a safety measure", Chance told Emma.
"And what the hell's that supposed to mean?", Winston snarled.
"Baptiste will want his watch back. As long as he doesn't have it, he'll stick around", Guerrero told Winston as if talking to a five year old.
"He'll stick around anyway! Emma is about to arrest him!"
"And you really think he'll remain arrested? It's Baptiste, dude. He should be in a Russian prison right now, remember? What does the fact that he's in California instead tell you?"
"He can't escape with that many FBI people around."
"Wait and see, dude."
… … …
Inside the plane.
Baptiste with beard and long hair looked absurd. But he had definitely beaten the facial recognition software. He stood motionless as they approached him. His eyes, however, didn't leave Chance for a second.
He didn't acknowledge Emma's presence, except for the ghost of a disdainful smile that flashed over his face.
Inside, however, Baptiste was raging. Agent Barnes. Again.
Damn it.
He had counted on encountering Chance alone. Should he even try…? Well, thanks to the bloody hijacker it wasn't that he had many other options, was it?
"I came here to talk to you", Baptiste told Chance as Emma handcuffed him.
"Then talk." Chance was wary. Just like Guerrero he expected him to try and escape any minute.
Baptiste, with his hands cuffed beneath his back, ignored Emma's attempt to shove him forwards. "You need to set me free first."
To Emma, he sounded demanding.
Chance, however, picked up a strange note in the way he said it. Resignedly somehow. As if he didn't really believe in the success of his request.
Emma, angry at being treated like thin air, snorted. "Are you kidding me? It's not that I'm not grateful for your help, but Chance already told you in the text message that all I can do is make sure that you stay on US ground this time." She proceeded to lead him off the airplane, with Chance in close pursuit. "I might get you less restrictive conditions of imprisonment, too, but that's it."
Baptiste still completely ignored her. "Someone sent the Crane after me", he told Chance.
Chance tensed immediately.
Uh-oh, that changed everything.
His face displayed what Guerrero spilt out: "Now that's bad news, bro…."
And before Winston could even ask, he continued: "The Crane is what Chance was. The best in the business. You haul Baptiste's ass into custody and he's dead meat."
Coming from Guerrero, this said a lot.
… … …
Outside the plane.
It's not easy to keep an unreadable face when a discussion is going on in your ear.
"And you're sure it's not a trick? He's not saying that to make Chance help him escape?" Winston still wasn't completely convinced.
"Would explain why he's in a plane to San Francisco, of all places."
"Emma won't set him free", Winston mused. "She won't risk her career."
Chance couldn't see it, but he knew Guerrero was nodding in agreement.
"So what shall we do now?"
Chance couldn't and Guerrero wouldn't answer him. It didn't take Winston long to figure it out by himself, though.
"You're not actually thinking about overpowering Emma and freeing Baptiste?" His voice climbed several octaves in horror.
Nobody bothered replying. The answer was quite self-evident.
And yes, the irony of the situation wasn't lost on any of them. Only moments before they had been discussing how to thwart any escape plans Baptiste might have, and now...
...now Chance was already sizing Emma up and calculating the distance to the other agents, the SWAT team and the van that was parked outside the airport premises.
Oh the times, they are a-changin...
Baptiste recognized the fine lines of thought on Chance's face but didn't dare let his hopes go up. This wasn't the person he had once known. Not with bloody Agent Barnes around. Junior wouldn't have hesitated for a second to help him escape. Dudley-do-right Chance, on the other hand….
But he definitely was thinking about something…
"Even by your standards this is crazy!", Winston yelled via earpiece.
Chance knew Winston was right, of course. But in custody Baptiste would be a sitting duck…
… … …
Outside the plane, near the parking space.
Unfortunately Baptiste wasn't the only one to recognize the lines on Chance's face.
"What are you up to?", Emma, totally oblivious of the heated conversation between the men, asked. They had almost reached the car in which they'd transport Baptiste.
"Nothing…" Chance tried his boyish smile, but in the past few weeks Emma must have developed some kind of immunity.
"I can see you're planning something."
"You can't do this!" Winston was still yelling. "She knows our names, she knows about the office, you can't rely on charming her into letting something major like that go!"
While Winston was desperately trying to bring Chance to his senses and Chance trying to dispel Emma's suspicions, Guerrero glanced at his mobile, vaguely thinking about ordering Ames to prepare a hideout for Baptiste.
One message from an L.A. informant of his.
Fifteen messages from Ilsa.
He read the informant's message first.
Damn.
The day was really looking up.
... ... ...
The parking space.
"Hold on", Chance told Emma as they were about fifteen feet away from the car. "Did anyone watch the vehicles while we were preoccupied with the hijacker?"
He didn't wait for an answer but spun both Emma and Baptiste around, away from the car.
At this very moment, two gunshots rang out in quick succession, then a third one. Chance threw Emma to the ground, Baptiste rolled over, freed himself from the handcuffs she'd put on him and paused. Chance grabbed Emma and dragged her to her feet. Baptiste started rolling again, this time apparently to get up, too, but without presenting too much of a target.
He had made a decision. Seeing how Chance had immediately protected Emma despite knowing that the Crane was after him had made it crystal clear where his priorities lay.
In the process of rolling he bumped into Chance. "I wanted your help", he whispered. "But I see that's not possible anymore."
The agents and the SWAT team drew their weapons, but it was impossible to tell where the shots came from.
"Get away from the cars!", Chance shouted. "He's driving us towards them! There must be a bomb somewhere!"
He had barely said it when the detonation went off – directly underneath the car they had wanted to transport Baptiste in.
The shockwave of the explosion blew everyone off their feet.
When Chance looked up again, Baptiste was gone. And so was the watch on his wrist.