Chapter three:

Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target in anyway, (wish I did so it wouldn't be cancelled) just having fun…

Authors note: Obviously this isn't an action story like the TV series. This is an in depth look into their personal thoughts and character. Reference to a few difference episodes, so spoiler alerts.

He rubbed Carmine's head and took a sip of his drink noticing Ilsa was settling down, getting very relaxed and comfortable. She's getting sleepy, he thought. "Ilsa, you can stay and sleep here tonight, you look too tired to go home." He glanced over at her and she turned her eyes away. "You can have my bed in my room, I never use it, I usually just crash on the couch anyway."

He was right, she was starting to calm down and get sleepy but as long as Chance remained shirtless it was going to be almost impossible to just completely let go and relax, never mind sleep.

"That's fine," she said, "I'm really ok to go home. I know I have your support and it does mean a lot and…."

Before she could finished Carmine jumped up and barked, his low bass, passive bark, but he meant business.

Chance closed his eye and let out a sigh of slight annoyance at being interrupted. "Ilsa, give me a sec," he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself off the couch, "I've got to take Carmine out one last time before he checks out for the nights." He looked down at her, "finish your drink and just relax." He walked over to a dresser and grabbed a t-shirt and started to pull it over his head.

Ilsa watched him discreetly and found herself disappointed yet relieved at the same time he was about to don a shirt.

She could tell from how he slowly and awkwardly pulled the shirt over his head and the way he slightly winced that he was hurting from all his body had undertook at the opera. But as usual not one audible complaint from him.

Carmine jumped down from his warm spot on the couch and eagerly waited for the cue from Chance to go.

She silently watched as Chance and Carmine descended down the stairs. She waited until she heard the elevator door close then leaned all the way back and let her shoulders round into the couch. She felt good here, it felt safe.

She rested her face against the shirt Chance had earlier tossed on the couch, his smell excited her but calmed her at the same time, it was the perfect mix of man and subtle cologne. Her thoughts swarmed her, Chance had done so much for her in the short period of time from when he saved her life as a client to now. Her well being came before even the simplest of common comforts for himself. She'd never met a man that put everyones needs ahead of his own to such a staggering degree. Again, it was affirmation, to her, he could give any superhero a run for their money.

There she was, still denying the real reason she was here.

Be honest Ilsa, she thought to herself, why are you here, now in Chance's living quarter? But she wasn't ready to be honest. There was still a part of her that felt like she was betraying Marshall, she was still wearing his ring after all. Was it time to take the ring off?

This was something she didn't want to think about right now. She just wanted to enjoy her tranquil moment. She pushed Marshall far back into her mind, something that was getting easier to do all the time and the guilt she felt for doing this was subsiding more each day.

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The Temperature had dropped dramatically outside. It was a cool night for Autumn in San Francisco. Chance pushed his free hand down into his pocket while holding Carmine's leash with his other. He should have thrown on a sweatshirt instead. Dumb call.

He walked their usual route down the street towards Boeddeker park. Most people would be nervous in that park in the day time let alone at night, but of course, Chance wasn't most people.

The walk in the brisk air gave him time to try to process what had taken place upstairs a few moments ago, actually the entire evening. What was Ilsa's real reason for returning? Could it be possible she was actually developing something more then just a professional relationship with him? He shook his head, no way. Then again, Guerrero had pointed out he was terrible at reading women. Why was that anyway?

The breeze chilled Chance's entire body. There was a slight mist to the air. Chance welcomed the exhilarating feeling against his skin.

There was plenty of activity on the streets. The shady clubs were in full swing. A common occurrence in this area once the sun set. Chance and Carmine continued along without incident as they passed the many colourful, intoxicated characters loitering on the streets.

Many were regulars which had established a mutual respect between them and Chance. Some of them even felt safer when they recognized Chance out for his nightly walks, they felt secure and their demeanour would changed from disgraced hobo to confident and proud vagabond.

Chance was engrossed in deep thought and none of the buzz or distractions around him could shake him from his contemplating. While onlookers could see he had a lot on his mind, it was also obvious that a distracted Chance was still superior then the most alert and vigilante commoner.

He choose a well worn empty bench in the park and sat down and let Carmine sniff around the dimly lit area.

If he was so bad at reading women, whatever he thought he was reading with Ilsa was probably wrong then too. His encounter with her while lost in the forest after the plane crash broke any confidence he had in ascertaining a woman's thought process, especially hers.

Was she just looking to a friend for support and comfort, someone to lean on during bad times or was there a deeper meaning to her appearing in his room unexpected and ambiguous.

The smell of the crisp, damp air and the cool mist did nothing to help clear his mind as hoped.

His head told him she was just looking for comfort.

But his gut was nagging at him that there was more to this. And he wasn't meaning just her intentions. There was something up with his as well.

Whatever it was he wasn't even willing to confront it yet or admit anything. Keep it bottled up, that was always his best defence, especially when woman were involved.

'Pull it together, Chance,' he told himself, 'you can't let this happen, she's just a woman.'

He had almost acted on his own feelings upstairs. His own feelings? What were those? Act on what? He shook his head at the realization, 'where's your control?' he asked himself, 'get your focus back.'

He had to keep her at arms length. For her own safety. The list of women that have almost been hurt because of him, the one women that had been hurt…it could never happen again, especially to Ilsa.

He could do this. He had no problem concealing his emotions. He had managed to avoid intimate relationship with women for a long time now and it wasn't because the opportunities hadn't been there.

Guerrero and especially Winston often had to intervene when Chance was hired to protect women. They almost always fell for him in some form or another. And it wasn't just the damsel in distress syndrome, which was often a natural reaction to someone protecting you when you are about to die, but rather it was Chance's charisma and charm, his manly abilities and his obvious good looks he was gifted with that induced them.

It wasn't always just the clients, it was pretty much ever female they came into contact with. How Winston got tired of it, the constant attention and flirting from all these woman. Chance in many ways seem oblivious to it or unaffected. Whether it was the flight attendant on their way to a job in a foreign country, the waitress at a restaurant, the cashier at a store, and on and on.

Sometimes even the female villains would become distracted from their mission because of him and their own corrupt judgement would be dulled. It sure kept Winston busy. Always reeling Chance in from his constant propositions. Some, Winston just let happen, why fight it, if the job was done.

After a few minutes of pondering Chance got up and he and Carmine turn back towards home. As they walked through the scandalous evening buzz of the Tenderloin, Chance had a new determination. Even though he wasn't sure where Ilsa stood in regards to him on a personal level he needed to make sure she didn't get hurt, in anyway, because of him or anyone else. People he cared about and got close to always got hurt.

This was his life curse, something he, as sad as it sounds, had accepted since he was a small child. So that meant he'd needed to be more diligent then ever.

He'd be there for Ilsa as promised, but he had to keep his personal feelings in check. Besides, he convinced himself, (again. really bad at reading chicks) there was no way she would be interested in him other than a protectant.

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Ilsa was trying to decide if she should just leave while he was out with Carmine. She could just slip out and they could just continue on as normal. Or should she take a leap of faith and see where it got her? She did the latter, well not necessarily a leap of faith but….she stayed.

She took a few more sips of her drink, it burned on the way down, he'd made it strong. Her body wanted to relax and to drift into a peaceful sleep, she was getting tired of fighting it.

She replayed that evening at the Opera in her head. How did Chance know there would be trouble there? Once again showing himself to be above human.

He not only saved her but also a building full of innocent people. Not to mention he prevented the release of a dangerous terrorist back into society. All in a days work for Christopher Chance.

When she had made the comment to him on the plane before it crashed that there are a thousand other thugs that could do what he did she was telling probably one of the biggest lies of her life. No one could do what he did. No one could replace him. She knew that, no statement could be father from the truth. But she couldn't help herself from saying it because deep down she didn't want to part ways with him as they had agreed to moments earlier. So she panicked, she was desperate to get him stay, shake him up a bit. Of course now she totally regretted it.

Her eyes were heavy now, her mind wondered back to the Opera. She recalled standing there stunned just watching Chance like a deer caught in the headlight of an on coming car….why would she be stunned, so surprised? She knew what he did, how he succeeded under impossible odds. But it wasn't too often she witnessed it first hand.

On several occasions she would witness the "end" result of Chance returning after yet another successful mission, bruised, battered, soar and sometimes even bloody. But he always returned, mission accomplished.

She'd witnessed the chaos from Winston and Guerrero as they tried to find Chance, help Chance, keep up with the ever changing, unpredictable status of his assignments.

She seen the complete trust and faith the two men showed in every impossible situation Chance would find himself in. There wasn't anyone else they'd want in their corner.

Being there, watching him battle and assault several, obviously very violent men at once and win, hands down, heck it wasn't even close, gave her a chill down her spine. Even after everything she already knew about his effectiveness she was still in awe. It was something she just couldn't get use to. It was making her blood warm.

And all this attested to his abilities..…yet she was still astonished, it was simply remarkable to see it in person.

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Chance and Carmine immerged from the elevator. Carmine wasted no time heading back upstairs, Chance slowly lingered behind.

He was wondered if Ilsa would be gone. She had seemed somewhat unsure of her choice to come back that night. Maybe he shouldn't have left her alone. Carmine could have waited….no, actually he couldn't have. He would have just continued to interrupt them constantly had Chance tried to ignore his request.

It seems way too quiet up stairs. Either Ilsa was gone or…..Yap, as he turned the corner his second thought was confirmed. She had fallen asleep on his couch.

He stood their studying her. He could really allow himself to care for this woman. She looked so fragile, so innocent even though she had successfully managed to show an outward façade of strength.

Most men would have allowed their minds to go crazy and enter forbidden territory with such a beautiful woman lying vulnerable on their couch, not Chance. Mr. always do the right thing never allowed his mind to even go there, especially after his new found determination while walking Carmine. (keep her safe at all cost) which meant keeping his feelings and desires far from surfacing.

He smiled to himself and walked over to her. She had fallen asleep holding her drink, he slipped it gingerly from her grip. She was sitting upright with her head arched over slightly. He grabbed a near by pillow, threw in on the couch then delicately placed one hand against the side of her head and with the other hand on her shoulder gently lowered her down to a lying position on the couch, then slowly lifted her legs onto the couch, he couldn't help but notice how soft and smooth they were.

Stay focused!

He continue observing her for a moment more then reached down and tenderly brushed her hair away from her face with his fingers. 'I'll always keep you safe, at all cost, I promise' he swore to himself.

He turned and reached for a blanket covered her completely, once he was satisfied she would be comfortable and she would have a peaceful sleep he then took his guarding post in the big chair adjacent to the couch.

He'd remain close to her that night, to keep her safe, but not too close. Sleeping in a chair wasn't such a stretch or uncommon practice for him. He only really ever just rested his eyes anyway, which is what he did.

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