Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"Hey mate."
Guerrero paused for a moment. This felt a bit like ten plus years back, when they had still been in the Old Man's employ. Funny, the thought suddenly gave him if not the creeps (those few things that did had either to do with his son, Chance or Ilsa) then at least an uneasy feeling.
Chance and his damn, infectious conscience.
"You got rid of the problem?", he finally asked.
This even more felt like ten plus years back.
And it turned the uneasy into a definitely queasy feeling. Chance would hate the solution they had found to the problem of the non-discreet killer. If he had known he probably would have tried saving her.
Yeah, that thought, too, reminded him of ten plus years back, with the difference that Katherine Walters had been a job, not a colleague getting in the way of a job. She had been, for all he knew, truly innocent.
And boy, had he tried finding dirt on her.
The days after the events in the cabin… the fight… he had walked away telling Baptiste that he would withdraw from the whole thing, that he was out of it, completely. He had implied that he wouldn't interfere, neither on Chance's side nor on the Old Man's side.
He had meant it. While talking to Baptiste, tucking his gun away, walking though the cabin's door he had truly meant it.
Because that was what he had always done, keep to himself, mind his own business, protect his privacy, retreat when things got too messy. A strategy that had kept him alive through years and years in a profession where short careers were a common phenomenon.
"Short careers" as in "early deaths".
"Don't trust anyone" was the key to making it through, right along with a loaded gun and a hidden combat knife. Ah yes, and "stay away from family squabbles".
Family squabbles involved emotions, irrational feelings, disappointed hopes… all sorts of stuff that could get yourself killed. In the early years Guerrero had secretly frowned at Joubert's daddy issues regarding Junior. His attachment to the boy had cost him quite a bit of money at times, and what had he gotten in return? A half-ass apology for some insanely stupid stunt, a tilt of the head and a lopsided smile.
Later Guerrero had discovered that Junior was more than just a pretty face and natural charm… He came to like working with him, despite the occasional jump from a high building or way-too-close explosion.
Junior was willing to risk everything for a job… and, as it turned out, for people he felt attached to – Joubert, Baptiste…
Guerrero.
He came back for him in goddamn shitty situations… and Guerrero subsequently did the same… come back instead of doing the rational, cost benefit thing and withdraw.
But only after the fight in the cabin he truly knew that he could really trust Junior.
He had had the shot.
And didn't take it.
Amidst the rubble of the broken table, breathing heavily and looking at Junior pointing a gun at him, Guerrero had silently cursed himself for not ending things before they turned against him.
For hesitating and in the end not going through with it when he had had the chance.
Feelings had gotten in the way, emotions…
Don't make a whole lot out of it…
His scoffing remark had been more aimed at himself than at Junior. There you go, idiot, you broke your rules, made friends with someone, let emotions rule out rational thought, now he's blowing your brain out, it serves you right to end like that, don't make a whole lot out of it, I don't want to spend the last few minute on earth thinking about what a fool I've been.
Walking out on Baptiste had been his last attempt at keeping up appearances, at holding on to his old rules and choices. Doing research on Katherine, trying to prove that she hadn't been what Junior had seen in her, an innocent victim not deserving to die, had already been aimed at getting Junior back on board.
Because he had started missing him pretty much a second after exiting the cabin's door.
When Junior had put down the gun, had not shot him, he had proven once and for all that he was his friend.
Scratch Katherine's dramatic interference – Guerrero had seen it in Junior's eyes before doe-eyed damsel in distress had shown up to put a hand on his arm. Junior couldn't have done it, just like Guerrero moments earlier.
When he hadn't found any dirt on Katherine, when it turned out Junior had been right about her and he wouldn't be able to drag him back into normality by revealing to him that she was nothing but another liar their had only been one option left: Give the other side a try.
Well, at least sort of.
He and Chance came to an understanding, agreed on certain ground rules…
And he had broken every single one of them in the weeks following Philippa's demise. Chance had given his consent, yes, but as he now looked at the blood and cerebral matter spatter his interrogation of hamster number three had left on the walls of his dungeon, it was pretty safe to say, Chance would have never agreed to this.
No use crying over spilt milk. Ash's life was on the line, both in the metaphorical and the factual sense.
The last hamster, however, hadn't been of much help – no new details regarding the shot aimed at Ash, especially not what had made Brax suddenly change his mind and target the boy specifically, after he, at first had shown no interest at all in him.
But the hamster had given away one important piece of information after all – the name of the raccoon that had killed Philippa.
Walter. Walter Lewis.
"Dude?", Baptiste asked impatiently. Only then Guerrero realized he had gotten lost in thought.
"You might want to check the latest repairs to Brax' mansion, mate… they had a problem with the automatic fireplace…"
Baptiste understood immediately.
"She's using gas. Through the fireplace. Once he activates it…."
Today it was cold outside…