Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

A/N: Just a quick reminder: This is NOT a how-to guide on parenting. This chapter does not reflect my opinion on how a misbehaving child should be treated but how I think people would treat a misbehaving child that never had much of a childhood themselves and pretty much grew up on their own.

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN THINKING?"

The team members had retreated to various places away from the conference room. A little privacy for a heart-to-heart talk. With Chance yelling at his son at that sound level there was no chance not to know what was going on anyway. For Ash's less clearly audible answers they relied on Guerrero's spying equipment.

"I didn't really…" Ash looked at his feet, biting his lower lip.

"Think?", Chance finished his sentence.

"It just happened… we were having fun… It wasn't only my fault!"

"You were driving the car of the father of one of your ice-hockey buddies!" Chance was still beside himself.

"The others did, too!" Ash did his best not to break into tears. "We were on that field that belongs to Steve's dad, it seemed safe, Steve said he had taken his Dad's car a million times before!"

"But you were the one behind the steering wheel when the car broke through a fence and dove straight into a ditch!"

"There was this rabbit… it was an accident…"

"You had no business being behind a steering wheel! By breaking through that fence and landing in that ditch you left private property and caused an accident on a public road! At the age of fourteen! Do you have any idea what consequences that might have?"

"Mom said Winston would…"

"NOT to save your butt!" Chance angrily pushed his chair back. He was way too agitated to sit down any longer. "Winston will take care of it, yes. We can't have your name entering the system. But if not for that… Do you have any idea how lucky you were?"

Images of the crash flashed up in Ash's mind – his buddies in the back, laughing with him, urging him on to go faster… the rabbit… the horrible crashing sound as they broke through the fence … the heavy impact as they dove into the ditch nose-first… he could have killed them all…

"I'm sorry."

"You better be. No ice-hockey for a week. No match on Sunday. And you're grounded. Nothing but school and homework. Guerrero's already disconnecting your internet and TV."

Desperately trying not to dwell on what might have happened to his son, had the car not landed in marshy ground and shallow water, thus cushioning the fall, and had the fence been made of something more solid than thin Birchwood, rotten from age, Chance stomped out of the conference room and into the kitchen, where Ames was still sitting at the table.

"Give me a minute, will you?"

Ames, however, had no chance to get out of the room since Ash had decided to follow his father and was blocking the door. "You can't do that! That's unfair! It's an important match on Sunday! And I wanted to go out with Tiffany this afternoon. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a date with her?"

"Tiffany? Not Pam?", Chance asked, momentarily distracted from the problem at hand.

"Pam was last week."

"For that comment alone you deserve a week of getting grounded", Ames couldn't help but comment.

Now furious, Ash wheeled around to face her. "Who do you think you are? My mother?"

Now, enough was enough. Chance opened a kitchen drawer, quickly grabbed something from the inside, turned around… and handcuffed his son.

"What the…?" Ash stared at him saucer-eyed. Flabbergasted he tugged at the metal rings, making the chain that linked them together jingle. He had never worn cuffs before.

Chance felt nauseated. Goddamn, the things barely fit. But then he thought of the wrecked car again and what might have…

"Proposition: You pick the cuffs, I let you go out with Tiffany."

"I've no idea how to…"

"I know about the time you accidentally locked yourself in the bathroom. The door handle was broken, Ames had to climb in through the window and pick the lock from the inside. You watched her getting you out, didn't you?" He was talking to Ash, but Chance's strict gaze was resting on Ames.

"I didn't really think about what she was doing…if I had known…"

"Well then this is your lesson in thinking about things – without anyone telling you to think about them!" And off Chance stomped, out of the kitchen, out of the office, up on the roof.

Ash, tugging at the cuffs more forcefully now, turned to Ames, still sitting at the kitchen table.

"Don't look at me. I'm not your mom." With a smug smile and a shrug of her shoulders, Ames exited the room.

… … …

Chance spent quite a while on the roof. The thought of how close he had gotten today to losing Ash kept haunting him. And it was his fault! His genes that caused Ash to get up to that kind of dangerous nonsense. The things he had done at fourteen…

"Juliet was no angel either", Philippa had told him after Ash had stupidly revealed himself to Shakeema and Chance had voiced his concerns to her. "If at all, you're both to blame. But Ash's got brains. He knew better than to act against explicit orders and did nevertheless. That was a conscious decision, not genetics. He's a teenager, testing his boundaries. Don't beat yourself up over this."

His mobile startled Chance from his thoughts. It was the one reserved for clients calling and yes, he didn't recognize the number on the display. A split second before he could take the call, however, it stopped signaling. "Call diverted", said the display. Damn it, Guerrero must have intercepted it!

Fuming, Chance went back into the office where the rest of the team was already gathering in the conference room.

"You're not trying to shut me out from a job, are you? Is this still about this R&R thing? Seriously?"

"You're not going to work on this one, bro." The tone of Guerrero's voice left no room for misinterpretation.

"And what do you want to do? Lock me up in your private dungeon?"

"The option has been discussed, yes", Ilsa took over the conversation. "But in the end we decided for a more …subtle… solution." She made a waving gesture with her hand and in walked Ash, still handcuffed.

"A doctor said you need rest, otherwise you're risking your life. Who's not thinking now?"

Ash's mobile started ringing. He checked the display. "It's Tiffany." The puppy face pleading look he threw his father made both Ames and Ilsa roll their eyes. Damn, the boy was a chip off the old block! All Chance did, however, was point at the handcuffs, still intact around his child's wrist. Grumbling, Ash left the room to inform Tiffany he'd have to cancel their date.

"Involving him, that was low", Chance huffed.

"He's your son, Chance. It's your responsibility to teach him right from wrong. Or do you want the Old Man to sub for you?"

"That, Winston, was even lower."

Guerrero, however, nodded briefly in appreciation.

"The new case is about a violinist whose violin was stolen", Ilsa explained. "Especially violin players grow very attached to their instrument, he doesn't simply want a new one, he wants his old one back. How hard can that be? If all else fails, we'll pay ransom for it."

The rest of the team minus Chance flinched, more or less obviously, at the "how hard can it be"-part. Chance however, broke into a very non-genuine smile.

"Yes, Ilsa, how hard can it be? I'm sure it'll be a walk in the park."