Author: cedricsowner PM
Written for minx227, following her prompts. A mysterious woman with broken ribs has a chance encounter with Chance. One-shot.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chance - Words: 935 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 2 - Published: 09-21-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8544260
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
~ for minx227 ~
Dr. Grace, their medical contact for the more complicated vicissitudes of life as a death-retardant specialist, was busy with another patient when Chance came limping in.
Well, he didn't mind waiting a little. His makeshift bandage was keeping the blood loss at a minimum, in Winston's and Guerrero's custody the client should be safe for the time being and it gave him the opportunity to brace himself for another "This shit will kill you one day soon and when that happens, don't come running to me cause I told you so"-lecture from the good doctor.
The door to Grace's treatment room wasn't completely closed. Chance didn't want to spy, but he heard very well and couldn't help but smile. Whoever was in there had apparently just gotten a piece of Grace's mind, too, and was now trying for a defense:
"You have no proof whatsoever I did something insane. There are a million ways to break a couple of ribs", an unfamiliar female voice, strained with pain, said. "Through coughing, for example. Or playing golf."
"You did not manage to break that many ribs through coughing or playing golf." Grace's voice, her usual tone of concern, well-masked with annoyance and grumpiness. He could imagine her rolling her eyes heavenwards.
"And you are so sure about that because…?" Grace's patient obviously wasn't one to back down easily.
"The approximately one hundred and fifty tiny bits of glass I picked out of your back…"
"For which I have a very believable explanation…" Judging from the way she spoke, she was from Pennsylvania.
"The graze wound on your shoulder…"
"Which is also easily…"
"The seaweed still clinging to your hair…"
"You can stop now."
Eyebrows raised, Chance retrieved a tiny glass fragment from the sleeve of his shirt. It must have gotten caught in there when the yacht's window had shattered. He thoughtfully rolled it between his thumb and index finger and finally held it up into the light seeping through the drawn curtains of Grace's office. It looked a little bit like a small diamond.
He remembered the reddish seaweed floating near the boat. So their attacker had been a woman…
And a very good-looking one, as far as he could see from the shadowy corner he had retreated to as soon as he heard Grace sending her off with the strong advice to take it slow for a couple of days, at least judging from her very well-shaped backside.
… … …
A day later they set up another trap to flush out the threat. This time Chance knew what he had to look for and sure enough, there she was, sitting at a table on the café's deck, pretending to be enjoying an afternoon cocktail in the sunshine – he might not have seen her face well, but he would have recognized a pair of legs as long and breathtaking as hers everywhere.
Speaking of her face… again he couldn't get a full view of it. She was wearing a large dark blue Audrey Hepburn style hat with matching sunglasses. But her lips and chin indicated finely cut features.
With an elegant motion, only slightly hampered by yesterday's injury, he took a seat in front of her. "A friend of mine is keeping an eye on us", he said as a manner of introduction. The small, moving red spot on the bright white table cloth was enough to let her know that Guerrero was having much more than just eyes on them or, more specifically, her.
"Why don't you just tell me why somebody wants our client dead so badly that he hired a professional and we proceed to something more pleasant?", Chance smiled, making good use of his dimple.
She slightly lowered her sunglasses. For the first time he got a glimpse of her eyes. He felt reminded of a beach in a warmer part of this world, light rain on his skin, her lashes fluttering like wings of a foreign butterfly. It would be nice looking at them without Guerrero painting a third, deeply red eye right between the other two.
"Something more pleasant?"
He liked her voice. Soft as silk.
"I know a treatment or two for broken ribs that Dr. Grace doesn't prescribe."
She completely removed her glasses and Chance could see that he had been right with his assumption about her face. She was beautiful.
"I was never planning to kill him." Slowly, very slowly, so she wouldn't trigger any reaction from Guerrero, she retrieved a badge from her purse. "Your client stole a couple of government secrets we'd like to have back…"
Guerrero told Chance via earpiece that he'd take care of the matter.
Apparently the woman's story checked out, since a couple of minutes later a USB flash drive was delivered to their table in a slightly reddishly stained envelope. Chance wasn't too concerned about the client's fate, though. Winston was around, too, after all.
"I know a couple of not strictly medical treatment methods, too", the agent smiled at him, eyes slowly and deliberately wandering from his face further downwards. "Your hip was hurt, wasn't it? Maybe I should take a look…"
… … …
Well, making resolutions to hold back and not overdo it are one thing… passion and a starlit night sky another.
The next morning, in Dr. Grace's office:
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT RESTING?"