Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"You should know that he is… difficult… to deal with at the moment", Ilsa told Helen as they slowly rode the elevator up to the office level. "Don't get me wrong, we appreciate your visit, we really do, but Ashley… He has stated very clearly that he doesn't want to see anyone and it might be that he… pushes you away…"
"It's okay", Helen said, not looking directly at Ilsa. "I imagine he's angry. Someone comes and takes your mother away… out of sheer malice… this kind of thing changes you forever."
Not for the first time Ilsa thought that Helen Grayson was quite mature for her age. Guerrero knew more about that, but not wanting to breach her privacy, she had never asked him for any details.
"So…" Helen still didn't meet Ilsa's gaze. The elevator had almost reached its destination. "What's the policy regarding closed doors here? Do you respect them or do you insist on every room being accessible at all times?"
It took Ilsa a moment till she understood what Helen was aiming at. In the meantime the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Helen didn't move. She just stood and waited for Ilsa to make up her mind and reply.
"We respect closed doors", Ilsa finally said.
Helen nodded.
… … …
Ames was sitting on the couch in the lobby when the elevator stopped, stroking Carmine. The poor dog knew something was very wrong, he could sense the sadness and desperation radiating from Ash's room better than anyone else around, but he was just as helpless as the rest of them. One of his people was in pain and he couldn't do anything about it. It made him restless and unhappy. He even ate less.
As a form of nonverbal greeting Ames smiled and nodded as Helen walked past her, then returned her attention to Carmine… but only for a brief moment. Realizing what she had just seen in Helen's face, what she had, out of the blue, recognized in the girl's face, she froze and slowly turned to watch as she ascended the stairs. Her leg seemed to give her more trouble than usual. Ilsa wasn't following her, she had let herself fall back vaguely in the proximity of her office's door and was now, just like Ames, watching her.
Helen was dressed completely in black – black jeans, black turtleneck pullover... She had her hair tied into a strict pony tail. Well, her outfit was always rather sinister; had they ever seen her in lighter colors? But the small handbag slung around her shoulder, that one was new. Helen wasn't the type for handbags. Apparently this time around she had felt the need to pack.
Noises from the kitchen area indicated that the boys were fixing food. Shrugging, Ames got up from the sofa and crossed the room. Ilsa trailed behind her.
… … …
"It's really kind of Helen to visit", Chance said, scrambling eggs in a pan. "And so far it doesn't seem like he's kicking her out. Maybe she can distract him a little."
It was just a random comment, but when nobody answered, Chance became suspicious. Bracing himself for more bad news he took the pan off the stove and slowly turned around. "What is it? Spit it out already!"
He rested his gaze on Ames, strict blue eyes making very clear that he was not going to let go till he had an answer.
"I think Helen might take a… um… rather hands-on approach to the whole distraction thing", Ames finally said.
For a moment Chance stared at her, frowning and genuinely puzzled. Then it dawned on him.
"NO!" He took a step towards the door.
"What do you want to do, bro, barge in and make everything worse?" Guerrero calmly stirred his tea. Only Ilsa could see how tense he really was.
"Not like that!", Chance all but yelled. "Not in pain, in desperation, in anger, not like…" He broke off in mid-sentence but everybody knew what he had wanted to say.
Not like me.
Ames got up and pulled him into a tight embrace. At first he just let it happen, then he leaned into her, let her hold him.
Winston turned around and switched on the radio near the microwave. It was playing an old Crowded House song – Four Seasons in one Day.
… … …
"So Guerrero has been list-making…", Innokentij mused, glancing over his spies' latest reports. "Four names… four people who'll soon wish they had never been born."
He tapped against a name in the text in front of him. His new assistant eagerly noted it down.
"You've got to find that one. Let Guerrero have fun with the rest, but that one belongs to me."
… … …
Later that evening Guerrero was alone with Chance. They had changed their beverages to something stronger than tea.
"There's something I need to tell you, bro…"
"More bad news?" Chance took a sip from his Scotch.
"Philippa left a key among her personal things. Belongs to a safe deposit box. Apparently she had stashed some sort of testament there. A letter for Ash, about his mother… Went to retrieve it… box was empty." Guerrero gave Chance time to let the information sink in.
"Maybe she changed her mind and emptied it?" Chance already knew the answer, even before Guerrero shook his head.
Somebody else must have broken in and retrieved whatever Philippa had kept in there. Somebody who felt powerful enough to not bother with replacing or simply copying the content but instead deliberately letting them know about the thievery.
Outside the sun had sunk and day had turned into night. For a long time Chance did nothing but stare at the darkness, contemplating that somewhere out there was a new threat. A phantom menace of yet unknown dimensions.
… … …
Helen was gone and Ash was alone again. He had put his jeans back on, but his shirt was still lying on the floor where he had dropped it. Curled up on his bed he lay, face covered with silent tears. Never in his life had he felt so alone.
As sad as it is, some things are irreversible. You can't undo the past, no matter how much you regret your part in it and would like to make it alright again. Life always goes on. No matter what, the wheels keep on grinding. It can bring you down at times. Keeping on living, that's the hardest part. Facing another day and trying to do better, despite the weight on your shoulders… Letting guilt and remorse eat you away is just as wrong as ignoring the consequences of your actions. Finding a balance and never giving yourself up, that's the real challenge.
Philippa Marx, September 1st 1977 – January 16th 2013
Rest in Peace.