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An Ames/Guerrero fic.

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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Human Target.

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A/N: I'm glad you guys have like my other Human Target stories so far, thanks for all the reviews and favorites!

This one should definitely be longer than my others, and a multi-chapter fic to boot!

The mother of Guerrero's son is murdered, and his son is being targeted. When his son takes a liking to Ames, Guerrero must trust her to look out for the boy while he tries to find out who put the hit out on his family, and stop them before they get to him.

I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it.

As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!

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"Don't aim with your hand," Guerrero instructed, motioning to the target about twenty feet away that he wanted Ames to hit. "Find the center with your eyes, and tell your arm where to send the knife."

Ames glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with a scoff. "It's not like I don't know how to throw a knife."

"Yeah, well, your accuracy leaves a little something to be desired, dude. Just focus on what you're supposed to be doing."

They were standing in the middle of an empty field; empty, except for the targets that Guerrero had set up for her to practice on. A couple times a week she took sparring lessons with Chance, and one or two days a week - depending on his schedule - she took other training lessons with Guerrero. Sometimes it was weapons training, sometimes it was tactical exercises, sometimes it was endurance training, and a few of the more intense days were torture-resistance training. Currently, they were focused on weapons.

Ames stared at the spot that she wanted to hit, focusing her eyes intently on the center. After exhaling slowly, she pulled her arm back, held the target, and then flung the knife at the spot. It didn't hit exactly the right mark, but it was closer than before. Ames begrudgingly admitted that he knew what he was talking about. "Sweet," she vocalized, glancing at him with a grin.

"Save the bragging for when you actually hit the target," Guerrero replied uninterestedly.

Ames frowned. "I did hit the target," she told him,

"Not your target," he replied.

Ames sighed, picking up her next knife to try again. She was learning from the best, and she was grateful, but a little positive encouragement wouldn't hurt ...

They carried on like that for a few more minutes, until Guerrero's phone rang.

"Hey, you told me to shut mine off!" Ames protested as he pulled it out of his pocket.

Guerrero ignored her, recognizing the ring tone and answering immediately. "This is Guerrero."

"Men are trying to get into the house!" the woman's worried voice shrieked desperately into the phone, loud enough for Ames to hear.

Guerrero's face steeled immediately, and he picked up a handful of the weapons he'd laid out and began stalking towards his car. "How many?" he asked her. After a few seconds of nerve-wracking silence, Guerrero spoke again. "Elizabeth! How many?"

She shuddered out a cry into the phone, but answered, "F-five, maybe six. I'm scared. They said ..."

Guerrero tossed his gear into the truck, barely noticed Ames following behind him to assist in the packing. "They said what?"

"They called me ... Mrs. Guerrero," Elizabeth told him.

Guerrero clenched his jaw. "Where is he?" he asked next, walking around to the driver's side door and pulling it open, dropping down into the seat and forcing the key into the ignition.

"He's in the hiding place," Elizabeth relayed to him.

"Why the hell aren't you there, too?" Guerrero asked her.

Ames slid into the passenger seat, glancing over at him.

Guerrero wanted to tell her to get out, but he didn't have time to argue, and he wasn't going to put Elizabeth on hold, so he just threw the car into reverse and peeled back onto the road.

"I don't want them to find him," Elizabeth argued. "If I lead them away -"

"No," Guerrero declared. "Don't be stupid. Get to him, now, and stay there. I'm twenty minutes away." As he spoke, his pressure on the gas pedal increased.

"Maybe if I make a run for the neighbor's ..." Elizabeth suggested off-hand.

"Dammit," Guerrero mumbled to himself, willing the car to go faster.

Ames sat awkwardly in the seat next to him, feeling worry and sadness for what was happening to his family - the family she wasn't supposed to know anything about. She was sure that he would be pissed when he discovered that she'd lied about seeing the photograph of his son in the briefcase.

"Oh, my god! No!" Elizabeth's voice shouted into the phone, and Guerrero's eyes widened slightly.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, coming dangerously close to crushing his phone in his other hand. "Elizabeth!" he nearly shouted into the phone, but there was no response. A couple seconds later, the line went dead.

Ames watched as his skin paled, and was certain that for at least ten seconds, Guerrero had stopped breathing. He seemed to regain himself quickly, for he chucked the phone onto the dash and focused all of his attention on driving, eyes intensely focused.

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It seemed to take hours, but they finally pulled up in front of the house. By pulled up, of course, that meant Guerrero swung the car halfway into the driveway and exited almost immediately. He moved around to the trunk and threw it open, sliding a few choice blades onto his belt, and then loaded two 9mm guns. He slid a few extra clips into his pockets, just in case. He was about to close the trunk when Ames reached in and pulled out a gun of her own.

"You're not going in there," Guerrero told her.

"Yes I am," Ames argued, loading the weapon.

Guerrero flared his blue eyes at her, his gaze flickering between her in the house. "We step through that door, you are last on my list of concerns. I won't be watching your back."

"I can watch my own back," she assured him.

Any other day, Guerrero probably would have argued the point further, or just tied her up in the backseat, but he didn't have time to do either, so he just turned and headed towards the house. Guns at the ready, he kicked the front door open. He fired his first two shots almost immediately, catching one of the men in the chest. Another came at him from the right, and he whipped his leg up to catch him in the chin. When he landed on his back, Guerrero shot him once in the head, ensuring that he would be no further trouble.

Ames followed Guerrero into the house, a million thoughts running through her mind. She couldn't believe that she was entering the house that Guerrero's kid lived in, she couldn't believe the kid lived in a fricken suburb, complete with white-picket fences, and probably neighborhood watch and block parties. As though that wasn't enough to send her reeling, she was following the enraged man into a house with an unknown amount of bad guys inside trying to kill him, while there was a very good chance that the woman - Elizabeth - was dead. Or at the very least, held captive. Ames hoped that wherever his son was, that he was safe.

A man coming down the stairs caught her attention and pulled her from her thoughts. With a wince, she aimed the weapon at him, firing twice to catch him in the stomach and chest. He tumbled the rest of the way down the stairs, landing in a heap at her feet.

Guerrero was a man on a mission. Anyone that moved - that wasn't Ames or Elizabeth - was on his hit list, and he was taking them out one at a time. He didn't allow himself to think of his son, and whether or not he'd been able to remain hidden. He refused to think of why the line had gone dead, and where Elizabeth was. He just wanted these assholes out of his house, one way or another.

After killing his way through the main floor, he began to make his way up the stairs, Ames hot on his heels. They were attacked almost as soon as their feet hit the second-floor landing, two more men rushing out of the room closest to them.

Guerrero got one shot off before they were surrounded, and then his guns were more of a hindrance than a help. They were too close to get off a clean shot, and he wouldn't risk a stray bullet going anywhere other than where it was intended ... not in the house, not when he didn't know where they were. He threw an elbow into the bigger one's gut, pushing the other one away with a hard kick. Then he grabbed the first one around the neck, whipping him over his shoulder until he hit the ground. The other one was coming back for him, but before he could stand up to meet the attack, Ames had fired from behind him and stopped the man in his tracks.

Guerrero glanced at her briefly, nodding his thanks, before moving on.

"No, no, please!" a woman's voice shouted from the room at the end of the hall.

Another shot rang out, and Guerrero charged down the hall. He got there just in time to see the back of the man's head dropping from view as he jumped out of the second-story window. He made to go after him, but a hand gripping his ankle stopped him. "Beth," he whispered out, dropping to his knees. He'd always worried that this day would come, but now that it had, he wished he'd never met her ... wished he'd never brought this danger into her house.

She'd been shot in the chest, and was fading fast. She reached up with a freckled hand to grip his shirt-covered chest, brown eyes meeting blue. "They ... w-wanted you to ... be too late," she told him in a raspy voice. "They waited ..."

Guerrero clenched his jaw in anger, staring down at the dying woman in his arms. "Who were they?" he asked her, hoping that he could at least avenge her death.

She shook her head. "Don't know ... they were talking ... talking to s-someone on the ... phone," she choked out. "Someone else."

Guerrero stored the information for later, looking around the room. "Where's Matty?" he needed to know.

"The hi-hiding place," she told him.

Her grip was slackening on his chest, but before her hand could drop, Guerrero caught it in his. With no thought for the younger brunette that was standing in the doorway awkwardly, watching the naked display of emotion, Guerrero squeezed Elizabeth's hand in his. "I'm sorry."

She began to nod her head, red bangs scattering over her forehead, but the movement was too much. "Take care ... of him," she made Guerrero promise, and then the light forever fell out of her eyes.

A single tear fell from Guerrero's eye, and it was all he would allow himself to shed for the moment. Placing her arm by her side, Guerrero stood up from the ground and turned, making his way back out of the room.

Ames looked at the woman lying on the bedroom floor, sadness filling her heart. She was beautiful ... Ames shook herself out of it, following Guerrero down into the kitchen.

He pulled open the pantry door, threw a bunch of boxes out of the way, and then stretched his body out on the floor. He grabbed what appeared to be the wall of the pantry with his palms and slid it back, opening up a small, hidden compartment.

Ames waited with bated breath for Guerrero to make some acknowledgement of what - or who - he'd found under there. But, it wasn't Guerrero that broke the silence. A small, sobbing voice that nearly broke her heart cried out, "Daddy!"

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End of Chapter one.

Well, what do you guys think so far? Like it, hate it?

Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.

Until next time ...!