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

~ tropical island ~

Ash hadn't seen Miss Matsumoto's car in the parking lot. Maybe she was stuck in traffic and they'd start a little later? He tried not to let his hopes go up too much. At the moment every minute less he had to spend on the ice with these stupid blades on and Christina snarling at him was a gift from above.

He was a little late himself, talk about passive-aggressiveness. Much to his surprise, though, there was no Christina yelling at him from the other side of the rink on the top of her voice for not taking things seriously and being a lazy dumbass.

Actually the rink was completely empty. Had some sort of plague broken out and he hadn't noticed? Usually there were at least a dozen people training around this time of day. This was somewhat eerie.

"Hey dude."

Ash jumped. He hadn't heard Guerrero approach and he had been really alert.

Guerrero grinned, knowing what the boy was thinking.

Another couple of years, dude, and then maybe.

"No training with Christina today."

Ash hadn't heard his father coming either. At least he didn't jump this time, but judging from his Dad's grin he knew, just like Guerrero, that his son hadn't perceived his presence till he spoke up.

Their habit of sneaking up on him was seriously unnerving. And what the hell were the two doing here anyway?

"So can I go home again?"

Predictably, both men laughed. Ah well, that would have been too easy. But it had been worth a try.

"Hey, Ash."

Isu, in training clothes. What the hell?

"Heard you've got trouble with the lifts." He gave his friend a lopsided smile, half hidden underneath his longish black hair.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Grab my butt and lift me up, bro."

Chance was a worthless skater, but thanks to his jiu jitsu training he knew a lot about balance. Just as Guerrero, who had a black belt in karate.

"Don't ever let your arms move past your ears. And don't be afraid of breaking up a lift if you don't feel comfortable with it. She's giving you her body, it's your responsibility to take care of it", Chance instructed his son.

Under different circumstances, that last sentence would have been funny in a guy thing kind of way, but this time they were all too concentrated.

"That also means, dude, that you're in charge. No matter how ambitious she is, you're the only one who knows whether you'll be able to do that lift or not. You decide."

Together with Chance and Guerrero, Ash lifted Isu up.

So far, so good. He felt a lot more comfortable with his buddy, encouraging him to turn him here and there, than with Christina, snarling at him for every little mistake. But they were still standing on a mat, not on the ice.

"Now come on, I bet with a bit of momentum this goes much better." Isu walked off the mat and proceeded to put skates on. So did Guerrero. Chance apparently figured he wouldn't be much of a help and remained on solid ground.

"You realize I could kill you with a tiny mistake?", Ash quietly asked his friend as they were skating face-to-face.

"I trust you. Your skills and your judgment."

Ash swallowed drily, nodded, wrapped his fingers around Isamu's waist and pulled him upwards.

Suddenly it was easy.

"Whooohooo! This is greaaaaat!" Isamu yelled, actually spreading his arms in the rush of adrenaline, speed and sheer surprise at this new experience.

Spreading his arms like wings.

Tsubasa.

That night, Ash went to bed happy and confident for the first time in months. His body was abuzz from the adrenaline and the many lifts, but in a good way. It finally looked as if he could really pull this off! He would not let Christina scare him into doubting himself again.

Actually smiling, he drifted off to sleep.

His mind, however, didn't rest. As the wolf's hour between three and four o'clock in the morning approached, he started tossing and turning in his bed, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of a nightmare.

He was skating. Not in the arena, somewhere outside, on a lake. Around him hundreds of people were crowding the ice, families, children, teenagers arm in arm… even some dogs were clumsily joining the fun.

He was skating leisurely, circumventing all obstacles with practiced ease, but there was no randomness to the direction he was going.

He had a purpose.

Or, more accurately, a target.

The man was in his early forties, and despite the warnings of his bodyguards, he was enjoying the bright winter day on the solidly frozen lake in the middle of his hometown. "Just like I've done every year since I was a boy. I'm not going to let some stupid death threats spoil this for me!"

His bodyguards were watchful. Ash had quietly tested their level of awareness on several occasions, and they were top of the league.

But he was, too.

Like a vulture, he circled the small group, keeping his distance, waiting for an opportunity to present itself.

There! A whole group of teenagers, fooling around. None of them seemed very experienced on blades, they were skating slowly and uncoordinatedly.

And directly towards his target, who was busy balancing his youngest son on his shoulders.

Come on, put the kid down, he doesn't need to feel his father suddenly losing all strength and crashing downwards with no means to break the fall.

As if he had heard him, the man obeyed.

Suddenly fast as an arrow, Ash darted forwards, in passing pushing one of the teenagers so that the whole group came down in a chain reaction like dominoes.

The bodyguards' attention was diverted for a split second.

It was all Ash needed. Amongst all the ruckus, the shot from the silenced gun was totally drowned.

He didn't stick around to check if he had succeeded. He knew he'd read it in the newspaper the next day.

Before anyone on the ice had even fully realized what had just happened, Ash was already back at his car.

In the reflection of the window he could see his face for the first time.

He was older, but not much.

Ash jerked awake, bathed in sweat. Still caught up in the last remnants of the dream, he stumbled out of bed and dashed into the bathroom, throwing up violently.

What the hell…?

"Hey, are you okay?" His father, fully clothed, looking at him with a concerned frown on his face.

Ash hesitated. Should he tell him?

No. It was just a stupid dream. What was he, a baby? Running to Daddy because there was a monster in the closet?

"Lifting is exhausting", he mumbled, turning the faucet on to wash his face. "Haven't eaten properly, too. Why are you up and about?"

"Winston called. He received a message about Michele. He's coming over. Guerrero and Ilsa, too."

Ash nodded and grabbed a towel to dry his skin. The elevator dinged, announcing the arrival of the others.

News about Michele…

He was glad he hadn't told his father about the dream. He definitely needed to focus on more important things now.