Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
San Francisco. The warehouse.
Chance was making coffee when Guerrero entered the office's kitchen area. "So, are we going on a trip to the Bay tonight?"
Guerrero shook his head. "He's alive. He'd probably argue that point at the moment, but he'll make it." He placed a small bloody bundle on the worktop next to the sink.
Chance wasn't surprised by its content. "You're not going to feed those to Carmine."
"Uncomplicated disposal, dude. And no preservatives or any of the other shit they put into regular dog food."
"No." Chance looked at Guerrero and after a moment he realized he was just being teased. He took the bundle and wrapped it into kitchen paper. "I'll burn them on the roof."
"How's Ames?"
At the mention of her name, Chance's face became even more serious. He shrugged. "Pissed." Wordlessly he took the bundle and left the kitchen. Guerrero watched his retreating back for a moment, then fixed himself a cup of tea and went upstairs where Ames was restrained to Chance's bed. It was bigger and more comfortable than the bed in the guestroom. Aside from that, Chance's bedroom window let in more light.
"All I wanted was a moment of peace and quiet for myself", Ames snarled at Guerrero as soon as his feet crossed the threshold.
"Yeah, and maybe we could have stopped at a DIY market along the way, getting some new rope for you."
Ames looked away. "It's my decision, mine alone. You have no business meddling in this."
Guerrero snorted. "What did they do? Show you the kid? Did you get to touch him? Feel his cold skin, hear his ragged breathing? And then they showed you pictures, right? Of how he used to be – oh no, wait, we're in the 21st century, they probably showed you a home movie or two, him winning his first wrestling competition, driving a bike, frolicking in the pool…"
She sobbed.
"They manipulated you. You were already drugged and in emotional turmoil because of that idiot husband of yours. They gave you some more drugs and informed you about certain family ties. Talk about clouding your judgment…" Downstairs the elevator signaled. It sounded like Ilsa and Winston were finally back. Guerrero got up and walked to the door. Just before he exited the room, he turned around once more. "Nobody is going to apologize for this, Ames."
About an hour later they allowed Alejandro to see her. Under Guerrero's watchful eyes. He stumbled his way through a clumsy apology and told her he loved her.
Ames turned he head away, stared out of the window. The changing of the light outside was her only way to tell what time it was after Chance had removed the alarm clock from the nightstand.
She didn't want to hear what he had to say.
And she was not interested at all in what had happened to his hand.
Time was ticking by, running out…
She couldn't forget the feel of his skin underneath her fingertips. So cold.
In late afternoon, they let Ilsa take over the watch. The rest of the team crashed at various places of the office, trying to catch up on some much needed sleep.
What should happen? Ames was severely restrained, there was really nothing Ilsa could do wrong and aside from that she had performed really well in Washington, it was time to have a little more confidence in her abilities.
"I need to go to the bathroom", Ames told Ilsa a little while after the noises downstairs had died down and she could be half-way sure the others were asleep.
Ilsa was torn. Winston had strongly advised her not to touch the restraints in any way, shape or form, but on the other hand nobody had told her what to do should Ames had to follow the, um, call of nature…
And aside from that, what could Ames do? They were several floors above ground, the men were sleeping downstairs…
Ames fits through air vents, Ilsa… And she knows how to restrain and, more importantly, gag somebody, too.
Ilsa loosened Ames' ties and escorted her to the bathroom.
"Don't be ridiculous", Ames protested as she also proceeded to follow her inside. "This is really not necessary."
"I'll close my eyes", Ilsa promised. She never got that far, however, for the next thing that happened was Ames violently punching her in the face pretty much like Guerrero had done with her not too many months ago.
Unlike Guerrero, though, she hadn't practiced the move for years. She was also slightly slowed down by the fact that she didn't really want to hurt Ilsa. All she wanted was to get away through the air vent in Chance's bathroom, make it to the outside and contact her father. Maybe it wasn't too late after all…
Ilsa's nose started to bleed, she stumbled backwards, dragging down a shelf with toilet articles and causing a giant ruckus that of course woke the men downstairs. Even Carmine jumped up from his resting place and started to bark.
Now Ames had to be fast. She dashed over to the air vent – but only managed half of the distance, for Ilsa had lunged out and grabbed her left leg, causing her to crash to the ground.
Ames knew how to fight, Ilsa didn't.
And that was actually an advantage.
Someone who doesn't know how to fight, in contrast to someone who fights badly, acts erratically, totally unpredictable. Such moves are extremely hard to counter.
Too hard for Ames, still under the influence of God knew what and anyway not in her best shape.
"ILSA?" Chance's thundering voice outside the door. "AMES?"
"It's okay, it really is." Ilsa's voice. "Everything is under control."
He cautiously opened the door. Ilsa was sitting on the floor, holding shivering Ames in her arms. "Your life is worth just as much as everyone else's. We won't let you throw it away", she whispered into her hair.
Chance lifted Ames from the floor and she buried her face against his chest, softly sobbing. Gently stroking her back, he carried her over to the bedroom and tied her down again.
In the bathroom, Guerrero patched up Ilsa, making sure her nose wasn't broken.
"I've still got a lot to learn, haven't I?", she asked meekly.
"You're making progress", he replied and dabbed a cut above her eyebrow with iodine, making her wince. "You're definitely making progress."
Guerrero, of course, was also the one who later got the news through one of his contacts, not more than half an hour after it had happened. Winston went upstairs and freed Ames from her ties. He needn't say anything, neither to her nor to Ilsa who had kept watch by her side.
The ties weren't necessary anymore.
This time they respected Ames' wish to be alone. Besides that they all needed to take a breather. Ilsa called her driver, Winston grumpily offered Guerrero a ride. Chance, naturally, remained behind.
He was sitting in the kitchen, sipping at a cold cup of coffee, when Ames came downstairs. She sat down at the table and for a long time said nothing at all. Then:
"Tell me, do you think, too, that your life is worth just as much as everyone else's?"