So, this is it! What started out as just an experiment with only one chapter in my mind, no idea if I'd continue the story, has turned into something a little longer...ten chapters later...it comes to an end.

There is no doubt in my mind I would not have continued this story if it wasn't for the support and help of Niagaraweasel and Cedricsowner.

As mentioned before, this chapter is no different then the others, Niagaraweasel was a great sounding board, always there for me to throw ideas at her and she would throw great ones back. She helped again clean and polish this chapter up: Thank you GIRL!

Also, thank you to all those that have read this story and followed it and to those that have left reviews. It certainly is a motivator to continue

So here concludes my comparison of two great, entertaining men, Indiana Jones and Christopher Chance. This chapter is more Chance than Indiana but if you look closely you'll see one "shout-out" to "Last Crusade"

Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target or The Indiana Jones Movies and intend no copyright infringement.

Chapter ten

Chance slowly opened his eyes. Where was he? His attempt to lift his head off the pillow resulted in immediate stiffness and pain that cleared his mind instantly. Reality came flooding back like a cold, harsh, wave crashing over him. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head back down, right, his body had been through hell, he had been poisoned...Chance glanced down at his chest and examined the damage, well, he was still alive, so the antidote had worked. Then the flood of memories changed, became warm and pleasurable; Ilsa...Ilsa? He reached over to the spot where her warm body had been snuggled against him all night. Ilsa? Quickly he sat up, leaning on one arm, wincing at the movement, and scanned the room. A surge of panic raced through his body. He was just about to throw the blankets off and swing his legs out of bed when he stopped.

An angelic figure appeared in his vision. The morning sun shining through the wooden boat's broken windows cast a glow around the figure in the otherwise dim room. Maybe he had died after all.

As the figure approached and he could make out the smiling face, he relaxed, his demeanour becoming playful and seductive, "Ilsa, I said, this time you didn't have to leave." He patted the spot beside him and studied her.

Her hair was a wild mess around her head, her face was void of any make-up, exposing her natural beauty, her skin glowed like the stars last night. She looked rested and relaxed. He dragged his eyes from her face to her body, and stopped. To his disappointment, the warm soft body he had held the night before was covered up.

"Look what I found," Ilsa answered his unspoken questions. "They were left." She stood in front of him wearing a camouflage lumberjack style shirt, several sizes too big. It hung on her tiny shoulders and was unbuttoned all the way down, teasing Chance with just a glimpse of soft bare skin.

He lay silent smiling at her. "What?" she questioned his smile and fervent stare.

He pulled back the covers, revealing his toned but injured body. Ilsa's eyes widened at his barely dressed body, if it weren't for the injuries she'd swear he was a Greek god. He was moving much better this morning, the rest had done him wonders.

"What?" She asked again. He wasn't answering her or breaking eye contact as he slowly moved towards her. Nervously she started to step backwards.

She came to a complete halt when strong hands grabbed her open shirt and pulled her back, inch by inch to his body.

The look in his eyes spoke volumes of his desire. She could feel his powerful knuckles through the shirt against her skin as he held on to it. Without looking down, he buttoned the button between her breasts, slowly and precisely, making sure his fingers lingered, gently brushing her bare skin. He slid his hands down to the next button and began to button it. Her belly quivered.

His patience was remarkable. Ilsa concluded this was due to his discipline, intense training, experience and all the t'ai chi stuff he did. She, on the other hands, felt like she wasn't getting enough oxygen to her brain. Her eyes fluttered and she felt herself push her body against his hands more.

But then he stopped before moving on to the next button. Ilsa took a sharp breath. The entire time his eyes never left hers. He removed his hands from her shirt and placed them on either side of her head, running his fingers under her hair, he leaned down to her lips, stopping when he was just a hairsbreadth away. Although she tried not to move the longing was killing Ilsa. A warm tingling sensation expanded through her body. He smiled and then softly and gently placed his lips on her.

The kiss was long and tender and very alluring. But far too soon, the reality of their situation intruded on Ilsa's mind again. She pulled away slightly and he tried to reach for her again, "Chance, we need to find a way to get help."

He was persistent, planting a few more kissing on Ilsa's neck, pulling her hips towards him, as she fought in vain to protest. Any will they had of fighting their attraction to each other had completely vanished the moment she had planted that kiss on his arm last night.

His voice vibrated against her skin as he spoke with his face buried against her neck. "Behind you is a navigational system. I'll have it up and running in no time." He planted more kisses and added, "we can spare a few hours."

The sensation was all she needed to be convinced. But a short lived thought flashed in her mind; what navigational system? I never saw one and I've been awake looking around. His eyes haven't left me...how did he know?...when did he see the navigational...oh god, who cares. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he sucked on her neck.

He pulled away from her neck and looked down at her with a half sheepish, half smirk on his lips, "that shirt looks really good on you." He tugged at the partially buttoned shirt, directing her backwards into the bed. With no more than token resistance she followed him.

"But come to think of it, I think I'd like it better off you.." He lay back with a shameless twinkle in his eye as Ilsa leaned over him on her knees. He pulled her down towards him, efficiently undoing every button he had only moments ago done up.

Two hours later

Ilsa lay in bed watching Chance work. He was focused and his posture was determined. His strong bare arms worked and flexed and his hands easily found their way around the boat's navigational and communication systems. She smiled inwardly and there was a touch of glimmer in her eyes.

She grabbed the shirt off the end of the bed - the one that only few hours ago had been the subject of so much attention, she smiled at the memory as she slipped her arms through it. Then she started to crawl out of the bed.

Chance sensed her moving and turned around to her. "You okay?"

Man, he was good at being a gentleman; she stood there wearing only the big shirt, yet his gaze focused only on her eyes. Ilsa had always had this thing about men, if they didn't look her in the face when honestly inquiring about her feelings, they made her feel used. Chance passed this test every time.

"Yes, I'm fine, Just going to the bathroom to try to freshen up," she smiled at his charm.

When Ilsa returned from the bathroom Chance turned to her. He got up and walked towards her. He still had the bandages wrapped around his ribs but the blood no longer soaked through. She studied his frame as he closed the space between them. He had put his now dried tuxedo pants back on. Her Peripheral vision wasn't as sharp or developed as Chance's making it very difficult for her to keep her eyes on his face, there was no point in even trying to pretend.

"Good news, I was able to reach Guerrero," his irrepressible smile inched over his lips.

Ilsa didn't respond.

What did he say?

His words, to her surprise, actually caused her stress instead of providing relief. She thought she'd be happy to be saved, she thought she wanted to be saved...she thought. Now that it was actually happening she felt a mixture of panic and confusion. Her eyes started to well up with tears. Chance furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, he thought this would be good news. Why wasn't she jumping for joy.

"Ilsa, what's wrong?" He stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, his head tilted as he studied her now distressed face.

Ilsa nervously ran her fingers through her hair then let her hands fall to her sides. "This isn't over. For a few hours we were able to forget about this damn, dangerous mission," She turned from him and he still watched her puzzled. "Chance this mission has practically killed you, more than once. And now that we will be rescued, you'll finish this," She glanced back at him then quickly looked away again, her eyes flashed concern but there was something else Chance detected in them, something stronger.

Chance was beginning to understand, he smiled at her concern for him.

"Ilsa, it's all fine..."

"No it's not!" She screeched, turning fast with a fury towards him. "Damn it, Chance, what else, what the hell else can you go through? And I'm a wreck, not just from waiting for you to come back alive from some damn adrenaline junkie rush, need-to-be-the-hero adventure fiasco, but I'm not used to this kind of field work." She stepped towards him and spoke more quietly. "Those people," she pointed out the window, "they were trying to kill us, they were shooting at us," her voice was uncharacteristically mean and started to raise again, "I jumped from a four story window into a pool, drove in a truck off a cliff, plunged hundreds of feet into an icy river and drifted for hours..." Her eyes were wide and filled with bewilderment, sincerely shocked that someone would actually try to kill her.

"I know, Ilsa!" Chance tried to reach for her arm and she pulled it away.

"This is a new experience for me," she shook her head in dismay

Chance pursed his lips and shrugged looking off to the side, "Happens to me all the time," he mumbled more to himself than to her.

"Ilsa," he took a step forward, pulled her into his arms with enough force any resistance she made was pointless, and kissed the top of her head. "Ilsa, it's over, the others have Gavin," he said, he rubbed her back and the warm weight calmed Ilsa.

"What?"

"Yes, he's safe, it's over. After we made our escape from the balcony, Winston, Guerrero and Ames fled through the parking lot. Apparently there was chaos everywhere. Castillo tried to sneak out through the back only to lead them to an unattended van holding Gavin. With all the thugs fighting the insanity in the resort, he was alone, completely incapable of fighting them off. It was a simple recovery and Castillo is in custody and spilling the beans on his boss."

Ilsa pulled her head off his chest and looked up.

"It is over, we are going home," he smiled down at her. "Guerrero has our coordinates." He leaned down and kissed her lips. He hadn't expected to do that, was this going to be a regular thing with them now?

When he pulled away she still had a sad look on her face, "Chance, for you, it's never completely over." She gave him her best half-hearted smile and added, "I am glad that we are going to be saved."

Chance knew exactly what she was referring to. But he never addressed it or tried to comfort her in this regard. This was his life, his job. He couldn't make any promises he wouldn't be able to keep.

"Ilsa, this mission is over," he placed reassuring hands on her shoulders.

Of course, what did she expect? Just because they finally came clean on their feelings that everything would change, that he'd just like that stop his suicide missions. Come to think of it, they had never actually come clean on their feelings...oh yes, their physical attraction, but feelings...

Chance had again leaned down to kiss her. Now he pulled back with a gleam in his eye. An accepting smile teased at Ilsa lips. It didn't matter how she felt or what fears she had. They had to go back and he would continue to work.

"You know, um, our rescue team...they are going to take a while...we have a few hours," he grinned shamelessly his blue eyes blazed.

"In that caseā€¦.. ," she raised an eyebrow and started leading him back to the bed.

Next day back in San Francisco-The warehouse

Ilsa sat alone, cuddled down on the couch. The warehouse was quiet except for the heavy rain striking the windows. The wind off the bay was unforgiving; behaving as if provoked.

It had been a long flight home. As soon as they were rescued it seemed like everything was back to the way it was. Chance's behaviour was his usual stoic self and he spent most of the crowded flight home discussing the case with the gang.

No one asked what had happened to them or how they had managed to stay alive. It was the big unanswered question in the plane.

Funny, Ilsa thought, she had never felt that the plane was crowded before. But on this flight, after what felt to her like being ripped from Chance's embrace and not having any time alone to discuss the hours on the boat and the events building up to it made her feel like she was packed into a can of sardines.

Now, she sat alone, Chance was out, Guerrero was who knew where. Ames was playing games on her computer in her office and she was sure Winston was in his office.

"Mrs Pucci?"

Oh, darn, how many times had Winston said her name? Startled she sat up. He had a concerned look on his face and turned his eyes upwards to Chance's living quarters questioningly then back to her. She knew she'd been caught studying Chance's home and daydreaming about him.

He relayed the news to her she was expecting, "The Fitzpatrick brothers will be here shortly, Mrs Pucci." Winston's tone turned concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Great, when they arrive please escort them into the conference room." She smiled and looked down at her hands.

Winston just nodded and turned to leave.

"Um, Mr. Winston," he stopped in his tracks and turned to her with raised eyebrows. "Do you know where Mr. Chance is?"

Almost embarrassed, Winston shook his head. "No ma'am...he never said anything to me." He began to walk away again and turned back once more, "he knew the brothers were coming by sometime today, I'm sure he'll be back."

Ilsa just nodded and turned to gaze out of the window. Winston shook his head at the thought of Chance and his uncanny ability to run away from feelings. He returned to his office to wait for the brothers. He had seen the way Ilsa had looked at Chance on the plane and how Chance had pretended he didn't notice.

A few moments later the security systems alerted them that the brothers had arrived.

Winston strolled from his office and Ames appeared from Ilsa's office.

Ilsa picked herself off the couch, straightened herself out and went to meet the brothers as well.

Guerrero magically appeared out of nowhere, munching on some leftovers. This, of course, came as no surprise to Ilsa and Winston. Ames still after all this time looked at him puzzled.

When the elevator doors opened the two brothers were not alone. Chance was with them. Ilsa rolled her eyes, the three men were wrapped up in an excited conversation about...she let out a tsk...old things. They barely even noticed their greeting party.

"Welcome!" Winston broke up the enthusiastic talk, giving Chance a stern eye; dear god, he is totally taken by this archaeology crap, he thought, Great! He smiled through his teeth.

"Please come this way," he escorted the entire group to the conference room.

When they all had settled themselves around the table Guerrero was the first to speak, "Hey dudes," he said in between bites, "congratulations!" He toasted the brothers with his fork.

The congratulations was more for them actually being alive and back together than for the fact that the government had given them a million dollar grant to go back to the temple and perform a proper excavation.

The brothers were as giddy as young boys let lose in a candy store.

"We are so grateful!" John said, looking at each member of the team before his eyes stopped on Chance.

"There is no question in my mind I'd be dead if I had tried to retrieve that idol myself and Gavin would be dead as well," he kept his eyes on Chance.

"I could not believe when I was rescued from the parking lot that you had managed to get the idol. I had told John it was not possible...at all." Gavin spoke to the group for the first time.

"Grateful doesn't come close to describing how we feel," John's voice was sincere and he spoke slowly. "The idols are all together now, they have been safely put on display in The University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology

"We wish there was some way to repay you," Gavin continued.

"Hey, don't mention it," Chance brushed off their thanks like he only lent them the tools to get the idol themselves. Yet, many of the injuries from the mission were still very visible on his body as were the regular wincing when an unguarded movement pulled at one of them.

Ilsa shot him an angry look. She was not surprised he didn't look back, although she knew he could feel his eyes burning holes into him. She had become keenly aware of how good his peripheral vision was on this mission. But then, her breath caught in her throat and she almost fell off her chair when he met her eyes and held her stare.

"It takes some kind of crazy man to go down into that temple. I told Chance that it was suicide," John explained to the group like none of them had heard this before or seen that kind of insane behavior before. "You must have a death wish or something, no fear. One thinks that a man who takes risk like that must have nothing or no one to live for. But whatever your reasons for taking such ridiculous risks we are sure grateful you are so brave."

Chance smiled nervously and squirmed in his seat. He hated the feeling of being on display.

"Yes, yes, it is all in a day's work for Mr Chance," Ilsa responded sarcastically. "Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, but instead of just a cup of coffee, like the rest of us do to wake up, Mr Chance recklessly throws himself willingly into suicide missions, risking his life without any regard to anything, takes gigantic risks, never knows when to stop..." Ilsa cut her rant short when she noticed five sets of eyes staring at her. The other set, responsible for the rant, nervously looking anywhere but at her.

A light bulb went off in Ames' head as her stare turned to a bemused smile while she now glanced from Chance to Ilsa and back to Chance.

"Um," John looked to Winston as he hesitated as if to ask if it was okay to continue. "What we were wondering is," he now looked at Chance again, "if you'd consider coming back to the temple with us."

Chance leaned forward on the table, "Back?"

"Yes, we've got the grant, we can go back and do it right, like you said we could." John now was completely confident of Chance's abilities the same as Winston and Guerrero had once assured him during a moment of doubt. "Having you come would be a huge help. You know the traps, you understand how those ancient minds work. It'll be fun, dangerous, right up your alley."

Ilsa's chair scraped across the floor as she slapped her hands on the table and pushed herself up, "gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of paper work to do." She walked up to the brothers and shook each of their hands. "I'm truly happy for you both. And I am glad we could help, please take care." She gracefully exited the conference room and never looked back.

Chance watched her get up and leave the table and his eyes followed her into her office where she slid the door shut. When he turned his attention back to the room he was met with questioning eyes.

Then he got a smile on his face, "Gentlemen, as tempting as your offer sounds and as much as I'm sure I'd enjoy it." He placed his hands on the table and in an exaggerated motion pushed himself off his chair, "I'm going to have to decline." He walked over to the door.

"I am going to try to turn over a new leaf, you know, try to be more careful, less reckless. Pick my assignments with a little more caution," he shrugged. The people around the table stared at him with incredible shock, especially Winston, he'd bet he'd never see the day when Chance finally...

Chance continued, "You were right." he pointed to John. "Someone who behaves so reckless and carefree towards dangers as I did...well, yes, you'd think they had no one to live for, no real meaningful reason to stay alive," he glanced towards Ilsa's office. He then reached out and shook both men's hands, "I wish you much success and I am confident with the two of you together you will manage just fine. Now if you'll excuse me. There is something I need to deal with."

Before he slid the door completely shut behind him, he poked his head through and added, "Winston, shop's closed down for a few weeks." He winked and completely closed the door, sauntering away smiling carefree to himself.

The room was quiet for a few moments. Finally, Ames threw the cell phone she'd be holding at a bewildered Winston. "I told you something happened between those two, I even bet you. But no, 'keep your mouth shut Ames' you said, 'don't you dare say anything when we rescue them.' Please, I knew the moment they walked on the plane. You guys owe me 50 bucks!

Winston didn't care a phone was hurled at him, he was deep in thought. He knew Chance and Ilsa were fighting an emotional battle, he'd seen it months ago. But the damn man was so stubborn. Hell, so was she. Winston leaned back in his chair, crossed his fingers over his belly and began to chuckle. "I'll be damned."

Chance knocked gently on Ilsa's door then slid it open. She was busy working on her computer, her eyes looked red but they were dry.

He never said a word and when she looked up she let out an annoyed huff and pushed herself up from her desk. "Christopher, you owe me no explanation. We are not a couple. I cannot and would not expect you to stop what you do because of me," she walked over to the window and looked out as she folded her arms in front of her. Over her shoulder she added, "We never made any promises, it was one night on a boat, we were emotional and lost and hurt, we turned to each other, it's completely natural and understandable. And you will never stop this dangerous job and I have no rights or say on the matter," her voice broke up.

Chance pushed his hands deep into his pockets. That was the first time she had ever addressed him as Christopher since she appeared in front of him in Nepal. He mused, either she was really, really mad or their relationship had taken on a new emotional intimacy.

"Ilsa, I can't stop what I do," he stepped forward as she nodded her head towards the night rain. "You are right, this is what I do, this is my job. There is no magical number for the amount of people I can save to justify ending this work," he tried putting his hands on her shoulders, but she slightly pulled away, walked to her desk and fiddled with some papers.

Not anymore, this isn't going down like this anymore, Chance didn't put too much thought into his next move.

He walked up to her, turned her around, grabbed her hips and sat her down on the desk. He parked himself between her legs, put both hands under her hair and held her neck. He stared directly into her eyes, "Ilsa, you are right, this may never stop. But I can promise you this...from now on I will be more careful..." When she pulled her eyes away, Chance regained their contact, "no more crazy risks, no more diving into danger without first discussing it with you. I will not be so reckless," he said in a way that sounded like he was reciting an oath and that his hand should be on his heart instead of sliding down her arm sneaking to her waist and pulling her closer. He leaned in and gave her a soft, passionate kiss.

"Sealed with a kiss?" Ilsa questioned him when they parted.

He just gave her a one-sided smile and pulled away.

"Here, grab your coat, I have somewhere to take you," he reached for her umbrella then helped her put her coat on. He did it so quickly and efficiently, just like with the buttons, that she had no time to even react or protest. Nor did anyone left in the conference room.

Within minutes Chance and Ilsa were out in the rain. Though the wind had died down, the streets were void of casual walkers, only those caught without notice. The water was starting to accumulate by the drains and puddles reflected on the streets like black mirrors.

"It's hardly the time for a walk," Ilsa said as she shivered and snuggled down into Chance's embrace. He had one arm around her shoulders and with the other held the umbrella to shelter them from the rain.

"It's not a casual stroll, I have a specific destination in mind," Chance gave her shoulder an extra squeeze. "It's not that far, it'll take us about 30 minutes."

"30 minutes, in this rain?" Ilsa pulled away and looked at him like he had just grown horns in his head.

"We walked longer in the rain forest," Chance said, urging her along with him as they turned down Market Street towards the bay. "Besides, don't worry too much about getting a chill, I think we've got this warming up thing down to an art." The way he smiled sent a surge of warmth through her.

Ilsa had to admit that even though she was cold and her feet were getting wet she was beyond curious. There was also a warmth and comfort throughout her body that made her feel like she was in the only place in the world she belonged.

She wasn't completely okay with Chance's new revelation that he would be more careful, the fact was no matter how careful he was, every time he went into the field there was a great possibility he'd not come back. But, she was beginning to realize that being with Chance, no matter how long or short it was, would be worth the constant risk hanging over their heads. As much as it pained her to admit, having him for a little while was better than not at all. Beside, he was after all the most qualified person in the world to do what he did and he did it extremely well. She had been around long enough to know the odds that were stacked against him everything he was in a dangerous situation didn't seem to apply to him.

What was he up to? She looked up at his content face. He was showing a new openness towards her she had never saw with him before. He had spent that last year frustrating her, not admitting his concern for her specifically, always dodging that questions, always making it sound like his worry was for the crew in general.

As far as her feelings towards him...she couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she had started worrying about him more than usual when he went out on missions. Almost from the moment he saved her life she found it difficult not to think of him. What she was thinking in regards to him, she wasn't sure, just that he was always on her mind. But there was no question, the physical attraction was instantaneous.

They arrived 35 minutes later at The Embarcadero waterfront. The rain had slowed to just a mist, the bay water calmed like it was just waiting for them to arrive to behave.

They strolled along the seawall until they reached an area of private docks. Ilsa breathed in the salty air and let it clear her mind.

"We're here," Chance stopped and lightly directed her with a soft push in her lower back to turn down one of the docks.

Ilsa turned to him with a suspicious look in her eyes, "Mr Chance, what are we doing here?"

"Humour me," he smiled and followed her.

When they had almost reached the end of the dock Chance jumped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Close your eyes." She obeyed, then he scooped her up. "Trust me."

For Ilsa, that wasn't a problem.

She felt them move down a few steps. He then gently placed her down on a floor.

"Okay, open your eyes."

"What is this?" she looked around her eyes wide and luminous.

"It's a boat."

"Yes, I can see it's a boat, but what are we doing on it. You can't just jump into someone's boat, these are private property..." she cut herself off, "my goodness, she is a beauty...How?.."

"Yes, she is and the boat isn't bad either," he walked up to with her two glasses and a bottle of wine. "It's exactly like the wooden boat we took shelter in, minus the damage and its supplies are a little more extravagant," he held up the wine with a boyish shrug.

"Why are we here," she whispered, feeling a surge of excitement. This was definitely a different side of Chance, had she actually managed to break through his many guards?

Chance poured them each a glass of wine and handed her one, then he took her hands and led her to a comfortable and cozy furnished deck area. There was already a fire blazing in an outdoor fire pit.

"Well," Chance took her glass as he helped her take her coat off and directed her to a plush couch, then took a blanket and covered her. "When a guy spends an entire day down in an ancient temple, defying death not once but several times, he gets a bit of time to think about his life and those in it and what's really important." He handed her back her wine. Yes, every assignment was death-defying but something different was happening between him and Ilsa. Her stubborn persistence was breaking down his wall. Helping him feel something he thought was dead inside and didn't care about. He was feeling alive again.

"You still didn't answer why we are on this boat," she took a sip and watched Chance as he walked over and sat next to her.

"The boat belongs to a friend, he owes me a favour," he put his arm around her and she nestled down into his embrace.

"So he's giving you the boat for a romantic evening, that's very sweet," Ilsa took a moment to take in the beautiful boat. It was a little bigger than the one they had taken refuge on. It must be worth a pretty penny.

"I thought this boat would be the perfect setting for us to explore the passionate feelings we had on our damaged, beached boat," he adjusted his position to look her straight in the eye. "And finally come clean about all these emotions I think we've both been fighting for months."

Ilsa took a big gulp. Oh god, they were finally going to address what had been happening between them. Her heart raced.

"We've been through a lot since we've met and especially on this mission. And while we finally succumbed to the physical attraction we've fought so hard and long to contain," Ilsa's face turned a few shades of red as her mind flashed back to the boat. "We have yet to deal with the emotional stuff.

"I don't know where we go from here, all I know is that I want to move forward and see where it take us," Chance's openness surprised even himself.

"We've got a lot to discuss, it might take a while," Ilsa looked up at the sky as if calculating how quickly daylight would come.

"That is why," Chance's signature grin appeared on his face, "the boat is ours for a few weeks." Chance got up and started untying the yacht from the dock.

Ilsa's mouth fell open and she stood up. "That's where you were today, you were here, arranging this."

He looked back at her and smiled with raised eyebrows. "You got me."

Ilsa protested slightly as Chance pushed the boat away from the dock, "I have no clothes, no bag packed, what you are doing? We can't just leave, now...this minute."

Chance just pointed to a Louis Vuitton bag that had gone unnoticed off to the side. "I had your housekeeper pack everything you'll need." He started to walk toward the bridge to start the engines, then stopped and looked back at her stunned face, "I hand picked a few items myself," he winked at her in a devilish way and started off again.

Ilsa was still trying to process what was happening. Was this really happening, could she just leave everything without notice? Why not, she didn't really care, her work wasn't going anywhere. But then a thought occurred to her.

"Chance..." Ilsa yelled, stopping him in his tracks. She nervously glanced around at the crowded harbour and the big sea out in front of them, "do you even know how to drive this boat?" No sooner had the words left her mouth when she realized how silly they sounded.

"You're kidding, right?"

THE END

A/N: This chapter was written with the idea that it's a Series ending story. It's as happily ever after as Christopher Chance can get.

No he can't stop doing what he does, but he has finally come to grips with all his demons and has finally allowed himself to let go and love again...something the series several times showed was a struggle for Chance.

How many episodes did we see where at the end we hear Winston narrates that Chance still thinks about Katherine, Chance looking at the love between John Gray and Emily(Sanctuary), wanted love but never allowing it in, whether it was fear of the person he loved would get hurt (walking away from Emma) or the idea he didn't deserve love and when he began to care he'd leave for various fears (Salvage & Reclamation: leaving Maria because he DID care)

To me this hinted that eventually, had the series be allowed to continue, he would finally deal with his attachment issues and start to believe that yes, he does deserve love. Fact is that is how all this started...Christopher Chance/Human Target...was him falling in love with Katherine. So it's only fitting...in the end he finds and accepts love again...well the best he can.