Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"What in the world are we supposed to do with two pounds of kiwi?", Ash asked, staring at the office fridge's content with an open frown. The pale light from the inside of the machine illuminated his face in a rather unbecoming way, deepening the shadows underneath his eyes and cheekbones. It looked grave, gaunt, too old for a fifteen year old boy.
Chance watched his son with deep concern. Ash had kept his part of their deal – he was going to school and his grades were okay. No skipped classes, no behavioral problems, no failed tests or undone homework. But he was spending hours in the gym, punching bag training. And he had started jogging, for hours. Rain, mist, heavy wind, it didn't matter, he ran. At times he was accompanied by Isamu, on roller skates or by bike, but every few days Ash went off alone. Chance hated that – they were living in the Tenderloin, after all – but on the other hand he did understand his son's need to be alone.
They kept an eye on him through hacked surveillance cam feeds. In addition to that Guerrero had suggested a tracker in his running shoes, but Ash was no idiot. He knew how to use a bug finder and they had several of these available in the office. If he discovered they were following him around… they already had had a huge row about this, rather early after Philippa's death, when Ash had found out they were watching over him on his way to school.
"You think I can't take care of myself!", he had accused his father angrily. "You don't trust me!"
Very tricky situation, since Ash most likely blamed himself for Philippa's death. She had caught the bullet meant for him because she had apparently thought he wouldn't be able to take care of himself.
"Of course I do", Chance had finally replied, after an awkward moment of silence.
"Then leave me THE HELL alone!"
And they did. With a heavy heart, but they did. Except for the surveillance cams.
"Kiwis are very healthy", Ames replied, thinking how odd this sounded, coming from her. For decades she couldn't have cared less about healthy food and now she was suddenly thinking about Chance's cholesterol level (yeah, as if it was likely that he'd die of a heart attack) and preventing Ash from vitamin deficiency. He was living off too much junk food lately.
Jeez, "too much junk food"? Who are you and what did you do to the real me? Ames shook her head at herself.
"Only if you actually eat them", Ash grumbled and retrieved a carton of chow mein from the fridge. "The only one around here willing to eat that much of that hairy stuff would be Guerrero. Where is he anyway? Haven't seen him much lately."
"Job out of town", Chance shrugged as casually as possible. "He said he'd be away for a while."
Ames threw him a sympathetic glance. She knew how hard it was for Chance not being able to tell his son the truth. To change the subject, she started rustling with the sheets of Marybeth Tucker's file that she and Chance had spread all over the kitchen table.
"This just doesn't make any sense", Ames sighed in resignation. We checked her complete background - finances, family, friends, anyone she's ever dated – now that was a short list – colleagues, jobs, academic achievements, online activities, neighbors, hobbies… No matter where we turned, we always came up with nothing. There's absolutely no explanation why someone should try to kill her and someone else should try to protect her."
"Maybe somebody is lying", Ash said.
Both Chance and Ames were too well trained to show it, but his words shook them to the core. In the first moment of shock they both thought Ash was talking about them. Then they realized he had meant the case.
"If all elements seem to fit together but the picture they form doesn't make any sense, one of the elements must be false", Ash said, leaning back against the kitchen worktop and picking cold chow mein from the carton in his hands.
Chance briefly closed his eyes, but it was too late, the image had already made it to his inner eye – the way Ash was leaning against the counter, eating, that was Guerrero… the way he looked, the eyes, the hair, the face, that was he, Chance himself… and his son's conclusion regarding the case… that was Baptiste… or Joubert…
Chance's stomach turned to ice.
"I'd start with the family", Ash continued, apparently completely unaware of Ames' and his father's discomfort. "The near and dear ones, that's where you usually find the most secrets. Funny. People who love each other seem to be much more inclined to lie to each other than strangers. Guess it's about not wanting to hurt any feelings…"
Ames and Chance exchanged alarmed glances. Did he know the truth? Had he found out about Chance's true identity? But he surely wouldn't just stand there and allude to it so casually, while eating cold take away food, would he? Ash was not like that, not so cold and calculating… on the other hand… there was no way to tell how much witnessing Philippa's death had changed him.
"Who in the world taught you that?", Chance all but croaked, making an effort to sound like he was joking.
"Grandpa", Ash shrugged, threw the carton into the garbage can and walked off.
"One day I'll kill him", Chance muttered under his breath as soon as Ash was out of earshot. "If he pulls any more shit like that…"
"Ash sees him as his grandfather…", Ames reminded him quietly. "And at the moment he's pretty busy protecting him, remember?"
Yes, Chance remembered. The Old Man and Baptiste were out to eliminate Brax. News had come through the grapevine about 24 hours ago that Brax had had to be admitted to hospital thanks to a strange bacterial infection.
They seemed to be making progress.