Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Roughly three days earlier.
Ames woke up in what looked like a fairly nice place. A hotel room or something. Really nice … Ilsa's level of nice.
Except for the fact that she was bound at hand and feet, that is. She cautiously tugged at her ties.
Manageable.
But someone was coming – approaching footsteps outside the room.
Ames closed her eyes, pretending to be still asleep. She heard the door open, then a man speak: "A few more hours and we can get started."
Started with what? Ames decided she wouldn't stick around to find out. Judging from the sounds, there were two men in the room, one faintly smelling of chemicals, like a doctor or something. The other one, though a lot farther away from her, emitted a strong stench of sweat.
"And she really won't suffer?", the stinking man asked anxiously.
"Not at all. A lot of people would envy her such an easy, painless death", the chemical man said, sitting down on the bed and loosening one of Ames' restraints, apparently to check her blood pressure or something.
Ames had definitely heard enough. She pretended to be stretching in her sleep and arched upwards. As chemical man gently pushed her back into the pillows, she "unconsciously" brushed past his jacket with her free hand, hoping he had a… ah, yes, like most medical people he kept a pen in his breast pocket. She snitched it. Pens were fantastic to get rid of restraints.
The second the men left the room, Ames frantically started working. Whoever these people were and whatever they wanted, she needed to get away fast. She had made it out of Guerrero's ties once, these should be a piece of cake in comparison and indeed, she had her hands free in no time. Now on to the feet…
"Let me help you", a female voice said, completely startling Ames. She hadn't heard any footsteps approach, but there she was, a middle-aged woman, standing next to the bed. She looked like a ghost, extremely pale, unnaturally thin, eyes hollow, but the more logical explanation for her sudden appearance was that he had climbed in through one of the windows, probably taking advantage of the hotel's balconies.
"There's a guard in the corridor, but the yard is unwatched. They sedated you. Can you climb with those drugs still in your system?" She crouched down and assisted Ames with removing her foot restraints.
"What is this all about?", Ames asked, slowly getting out of bed. Her balance was a little off, climbing wouldn't be easy, but she would manage. With the alternative being death, she had managed a lot more challenging situations.
"Just leave", replied the woman. "Just leave." She went over to the window, opened it and then asked again: "Can you climb?" She behaved as if someone had drugged her, too.
Before Ames had a chance to answer, the door burst open and the sweat-reeking man barged in, with a heavily muscled thug in tow. "What do you think you're doing, Sally?", he asked the ghostlike woman.
"This is not right", she answered without looking at him. "This is just not right."
"We're running out of time!", the man thundered. "Seven days max the doctors said. Seven days! I don't care if it's right or wrong, this is Ben's only chance!"
The woman started crying, violently shaking her head. "No", she sobbed. "No."
"We have no choice." The stinking man nodded at the thug, ordering him to restrain Ames again.
At that point, the woman fell to her knees. "She's your child, too!"
Ames thought her hearing had deceived her. "What? What is she talking about?"
The man looked as if someone had slapped him in the face. He looked at Ames, his face crumpled. He turned to the woman at his feet, his shoulders slumped, he started crying, too. "Why did you have to say that?", he asked her. "Why did you…?"
"YOU ARE MY FATHER?", Ames all but shouted. "You are my father?"
The man looked at her again, but he couldn't meet her eyes. "Follow me", he whispered.
The reeking man and the ghost woman led Ames to a room one floor below. It was furnished like a hospital room, with monitors, IV stand and all. The center of the room was occupied by a huge bed and in the bed lay a child, a boy, ten, eleven maybe. He looked like he had not too long ago been a sporting ace, he was rather big for a ten year old, football maybe? Wrestling? But his sportsman days seemed to be a thing of the past – his face was gaunt, his skin even paler than the ghost woman's, his breathing, supported by a mask, ragged and labored.
He looked very, very terrible. Ames instinctively reached out and touched his hand. It was cold and almost lifeless. The poor child.
"This is Benjamin, your half-brother", the reeking man said.
Ames started shivering. This was all too much. Way too much.
… … …
The hotel room, present.
"Let me get this straight", Chance said after the man in the bathtub had finished his story. "You're Ames father, the one that disappeared when she was still a toddler, leaving her at with her dopehead mother and not caring at all that she ended up in foster care, right?"
The man nodded.
"You somehow managed to turn a fresh leaf after leaving your child behind. You made a fortune with some sort of trading company, married a woman from the right segment of society and had a son with her. Not a thought wasted on Ames. Then, half a year ago, the son suddenly becomes sick. He needs a new heart, no donors are available, you remember that you've got a daughter whose DNA would be perfect..." Chance lashed out with sudden, violent force, grabbed the man by his throat and rammed him backwards against the bathroom wall. "How convenient that she's lean enough to fit through air vents. Her heart won't be too big for his chest." He grabbed the man's throat so hard, his eyes were bulging.
"I didn't force her to hang herself", the man choked. "That was her decision. Hers alone. I let her go, couldn't go through with it after all… She sent me that text message out of the blue, an hour or two after we had set her free. I was overjoyed… she wanted to safe her brother. She wanted to make him the greatest gift one person can offer another. She was willing to give her life for him."
"With hanging it often occurs that the heart continues to beat for a while after the brain can no longer be resuscitated…", Guerrero quietly stated. "Ideal for producing an intact donor organ…. The surveillance tapes that show the arrival of the firemen also show the arrival of an additional ambulance that left very soon, without taking anyone in. That were your people, right? You sent them to collect Ames."
"What are you going to do with me now?", the man whimpered.
Chance suddenly felt very sick. He let go of the man.
"Nothing. The death of your son will be punishment enough."
A/N: I researched the heart size part. It IS possible.