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An Ames/Guerrero fic.

Chapter Nine.

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Disclaimer: See Ch. 1.

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A/N: Thanks for the great reviews so far, you guys rock!

In this one, Winston and Ilsa have something to protest about, and Ames and Matty and reunited.

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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Ames showered, got a change of clothes, and set about applying the appropriate amount of make-up, so that her bruised face was less distorted. She didn't want to scare Matty when she saw him again, and she didn't want Guerrero feeling sorry for her - not that he would ever voice such thoughts. Her cut lip and eyebrow, she could do nothing about, but for the most part, she looked okay. Most of the swelling had gone down under the spray of the cold water in her shower. In a week, the bruises would mostly be faded away, so she wouldn't have to deal with the constant reminder of what could have happened. The slices on the rest of her body, however, would last much longer.

Chance drove the three of them back to the office, an hour or so having passed since they'd found her in the abandoned warehouse.

The ride up the elevator was dreadfully silent, the dinging sound that alerted them to their arrival on the requested floor shocking her. Seconds after she stepped out of the open doors, she was taken out at the waist.

"You're back!" Matty exclaimed happily, laying on top of her where he'd knocked her onto the floor.

Ames hid her wince with a smile, ruffling the boy's hair. "I missed you too, kiddo." It had been nearly 24 hours since she'd left the office, though it felt much longer. She allowed Matty to hold her on the ground for a while, not letting him know that he was causing her pain.

"Will you do the bubbles again?" he asked her, batting his long lashes innocently at her.

Ames smiled softly. "Sure. Have you had supper yet?"

Matty looked over at Ilsa, who had made his supper before leaving with the others to find Ames. "She put weird stuff in it."

Ilsa frowned, wondering what could have been unappealing about her tuna casserole.

"Well, how about I whip you up some macaroni and hot dogs, and then we'll do the bath later?" Ames suggested, winking at Ilsa.

"Okay!" Matty agreed.

"Give her some air, Matthew," Guerrero spoke, making his way out of the back room.

Matty acquiesced immediately, standing up on his own feet. "Sorry," he muttered sheepishly, though he was having a hard time concealing his grin.

Ames shrugged, trying not to let on how much getting up would hurt. "No biggie."

Guerrero came to a stop in front of her, wiping his hands on a towel. He gripped the material in his left hand, and after a moment, he held his right hand out to her.

Ames slowly raised her arm up, thankful that she'd chosen to wear a long-sleeve shirt - otherwise they would all see her many superficial wounds. She allowed Guerrero to clasp her hand in his, and then stood slowly with his help. When he didn't remove his hand right away, Ames met his eyes, seeing something in there that wasn't Guerrero's usual sarcastic, annoyed expression. She parted her lips, inhaling a small breath before she spoke. "Thank you," she told him.

That seemed to snap Guerrero out of whatever trance he'd been in, and he dropped her hand almost immediately. "Good to have you back," he stated flippantly, looking down at Matty. "Why don't you go clean up your toys in the living room before supper?"

Matty nodded, smiling once more at Ames before skipping into the other room.

Before Ames could say anything else to Guerrero, he turned his attention back to her. "Think you can keep him busy for a bit? I have a bit of a mess that I need to clean up in the back room."

Ames nodded, understanding what he meant. "Sure."

Guerrero nodded his thanks, turning to leave.

"Hang on a second, what do you mean by 'mess'?" Winston asked, eyeing Guerrero.

"Dude, do you need me to spell it out for you?" Guerrero wondered.

Ilsa stepped in. "Do you mean to tell us that the man you held captive in that back room is no longer among the living?" She spoke in a quiet, but no less affronted voice.

Guerrero shrugged, "I wouldn't use that many words, but yeah."

"That's just great," Winston responded, shaking his head. "Now you've made us all accessories to murder."

"This is completely unacceptable," Ilsa agreed. "That man had rights. Now, I may have kept silent while you were ... retrieving your information," she told him. "But this is ... well, it's murder!"

"Are you kidding me?" Guerrero asked her, stepping into her space. "That man murdered the mother of the my child in cold blood. He waited until I got there to do it, so that I would know that I couldn't save her. Then he came here and tried to kill my son!" Guerrero snapped, almost raising his voice a little too loudly. "There's not going to be any trial, there's not going to be any arrests made. These bastards want me and my son dead, and the only way that isn't going to happen is if I kill them first. You have a problem with that, there's the door. You try and stop me, and it'll be the last thing you do," he finished, glaring into her eyes.

Ilsa looked away after a minute, turning her attention to Chance. "Mr. Chance, surely you can explain to him the problem with this? Knock some sense into him?"

Chance sighed, looking between Guerrero and Ilsa. His eyes flickered to Ames, and the reason why she had to wear the clothing that covered her entire body, and the caked-on makeup to cover her battered face. Then he looked at Matty, who had gotten distracted from picking up his toys, and was now riding his train set along the back of the couch. Matty, who would never again see his mother's face smiling down at him. Chance shook his head, turning back to meet Ilsa's eyes. "Sorry," he told her. "I'm with Guerrero on this one."

"Not that you asked, but I gotta side with them, too," Ames added. "These guys won't stop until they're dead."

Ilsa looked at Winston, who appeared to be just as uncomfortable as she was, though he was less vocal about it. "I'm going out to get some air," she stated finally. "Then I believe my sister-in-law wanted to fly over to Asia to meet with members of one of our subsidiaries." She met Guerrero's eyes defiantly. "See that this is dealt with by the time I return." Guerrero made no move to acknowledge her, so Ilsa moved back into the elevator, pressing the button for the main floor, and then pulling her cell phone out to call her driver.

Winston only shook his head, moving back into the office to return to his notes.

Chance clapped a hand on Guerrero's shoulder, meeting the soft, blue eyes of his oldest friend.

Guerrero thanked him silently for sticking by him, not needing any words to convey his gratitude.

Chance nodded once, and then followed Winston into the office.

Ames and Guerrero were left standing by themselves in the foyer. "Need any help?" Ames asked him, motioning to the back room.

Guerrero shook his head. "Just watch Matty."

Ames nodded her assent, walking past him to go into the kitchen and start making dinner. She had only gone three steps before Guerrero caught her by the tip of her elbow, stopping her from passing him.

His eyes burned into hers, and he looked as though he wanted to say something. Silence echoed around them for several seconds, neither one of them moving so much as an inch.

Was he going to ask her what she'd found out? Berate her for taking off like she had? Punish her for picking his pocket? Thank her again, now that the others were gone? Ames didn't know what he wanted, but she couldn't bring herself to ask him.

Finally, Guerrero spoke in a soft voice. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

Ames blinked, definitely not expecting that. He'd never shown any real concern for her, and any time she hurt herself in one of their training sessions, he always just told her to shake it off. Pain was a part of life, he always said, especially in the world that they lived in. Was it different because she'd done it to protect him and Matty? Did he feel guilty? She realized that he was waiting for an answer, and shakily found her voice again. "I'll be fine."

Guerrero nodded. Glancing over at Matty, he still didn't release her elbow. "Come see me after he's in bed," he told her.

Ames could only nod silently.

Guerrero spared her one last look, and then moved into the kitchen. He grabbed a couple garbage bags and some spray-cleaners before making his way back to the other room.

Ames shook herself out of her stupor, asking Matty if he wanted shredded cheese in his macaroni.

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"How can you seriously be okay with this?" Winston wanted to know.

He and Chance were still in the office, going over the information that they'd retrieved from the crime scenes.

Ames and Matty were up in the bathroom, and Guerrero was in the process of scrubbing out the back room, leaving the two of them alone in the office.

"I never said I was okay with it, Winston," Chance replied. "But, Guerrero's not wrong. Even if we do arrest whoever is responsible for this, they'll just hire someone else from prison to finish the job. There's no other way to end this."

"We could send Matty into hiding," Winston offered. "The both of them."

"I already suggested it. Guerrero wants this over, now, and I'm inclined to agree with him," Chance told the bigger man. "It's his family, his call."

Winston shook his head, looking back down at information they'd gathered from the warehouse. He was silent for a moment, double-checking his work. "Whoa ... you might wanna take a look at this," he told his partner.

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Ames got Matty out of the bath and in bed, sitting next to him on the bed. He wanted a story, so she recited one that she and Brody used to read when they were kids. Before long, the little guy was fast asleep. She turned on the baby monitor that they'd set up next to his bed, and then made her way into the bathroom.

After making sure that the door was locked securely, Ames removed her shirt to check her wounds. Strips of gauze covered almost her entire body, covering up numerous cuts - some deep, some shallow. She had a fair-sized bruise on her stomach from where the large brute of a man had slammed his fist in, winding her. She was lucky he hadn't cracked or broken any bones during his torturous beating.

Ames sighed, turning to check the ones on her back. Satisfied that none of the stitches had opened, she repeated the process with her legs, and then slid her clothing back on. She did a quick touch-up on her makeup, and then made her way out of the bathroom and back down the steps.

Winston and Chance were still hard at work in the office, so Ames grabbed a bowl from the kitchen, filled it up with some leftovers and heated it up. Once it was finished, she made her way to the back room, adhering to Guerrero's request that she come find him. She thought about knocking, but he hadn't been shy about what he was doing in there, so she didn't think he had anything to hide.

"I brought you some supper," she told him as she walked in, seeing him on his hands and knees, scrubbing at various red spots on the floor. The man's body was nowhere to be found, but there were a couple suspicious-looking garbage bags in the corner. Ames didn't want to know how he'd split the body in half, just set the bowl on the empty desk by the wall.

"Thanks," he replied, continuing his rigorous work.

"Did you want me to come back, or -"

"Just give a minute," he told her.

Ames waited patiently by the door for him to finish.

He got most of the red off with the cleaner he'd used, and then sprayed the floor down with bleach. Then he moved the bags of body parts to the door.

"How are you going to get rid of that?" Ames wanted to know.

Guerrero answered simply, "I know a guy with access to an incinerator." He picked up the bowl of macaroni and hot dogs, scooping up a bite as though they weren't just discussing dismembered-body disposal.

"So, I guess he told you what you wanted to know?" Ames wondered.

Guerrero nodded, taking another bite of the macaroni. He didn't expand on that, just sat on the edge of the desk and ate his supper. When he was finally finished, he set down the bowl and turned to Ames. "How bad is it?" he wanted to know, motioning to her body.

Ames swallowed the saliva that had built up in her mouth, surprised at the sudden question. "I've had worse."

"I doubt it," Guerrero replied. "Let me see."

Ames wasn't exactly a shy person, but after the events of the last 24 hours, she was a bit uneasy about removing her clothing. "It's fine."

"Until I see for myself, I don't know that," he informed her, stepping closer to her. "This was my fault, Ames ... you never should have been in that car. I got you into this." He sighed, looking down at her shirt. "Now, take it off, or I will."

Ames sighed, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. It was the closest he'd ever come to voicing real concern for her well-being, and she didn't want to pass that opportunity up. "Fine," she stated, closing the door before doing anything else. The smell of bleach was strong in the room, and she focused on that instead of what she was doing. She pulled her arms out of her shirt slowly, careful not to catch her bandages on the fabric. Then she carefully pulled the shirt up and over her head. She left her bra on, and moved to the button on her pants. It took a little more work to get them off, and her finesse wasn't what it normally was, but eventually she was standing before him in her underwear, waiting for him to say something.

Guerrero stared at her form, at the many covered-up abrasions on her young body, imagining everything that they'd done to her. They weren't as experienced as he was, he noted, but the damage they'd done was real. She would have a decent collection of scars when the bandages came off. He moved around her body, pulling her hair softly over her shoulder to be sure that he had access to all of her wounds. "Did they run a rape kit?" Guerrero asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Ames shook her head nervously. "There was no need."

Guerrero nodded. "Good." He studied her for a few more minutes, before he finally met her eyes. "Sit on the desk."

Ames opened her mouth to ask him why, but thought better of it. Instead, she backed up a couple steps and sat down, making sure that his empty bowl was out of the way. She had no idea what he had in store for her, but her mouth suddenly felt as though she'd been chewing on cotton balls. She would kill for a drink of water.

Guerrero pulled a tin out of his bag, opening it up as he made his way over to her. Without asking, he set it down beside her and began removing one of her bandages: the one by her collar bone.

"What are you doing?" Ames asked him, finally finding her voice again.

"You're in pain," he told her simply. "You're trying to hide it, and you're doing an okay job of it, but I'm not blind," he answered, easing the last of the gauze off her wound. "This," he said, holding up the tin, "is a pain-relief lotion. You rub it over the wounds - it won't do anything to the stitches - and it numbs the area for a few hours. Works a hell of a lot better than any drug, and it doesn't affect your mind," he told her. He scooped a small amount onto his fingers, and then stepped closer to her to apply the gel-like lotion.

Ames gasped slightly when the cool lotion touched her skin, followed quickly by the feeling of Guerrero's surprisingly gentle fingers rubbing it in. He covered the entire wound, and the area around it, making sure it was completely covered. Ames could feel the difference almost immediately, thankful for the tingling sensation as the area began to go numb. "That's incredible," she spoke in a whisper, not trusting herself to make more noise than that.

Guerrero nodded, finishing with the wound. He wiped his hand on the towel that he'd stuck in his pocket, leaning forward to blow air onto the lotion, helping it to dry quicker.

Ames hoped that he didn't notice how her stomach clenched at the action, or how she'd stopped breathing altogether. The flush on her body could be attributed to her nerves, thankfully.

Guerrero slid the lid back onto the tin, picking up the gaze that he'd removed. He grabbed some medical tape from his bag, and reapplied the bandage, keeping the area protected. "Put this on all of your wounds before you go to bed, it'll help you sleep."

Ames nodded, taking the lotion from his hands. "Thanks."

He moved away and grabbed a mop that he'd placed in the corner, and began cleaning up the bleach that he'd sprayed on the floor.

Ames slid off the desk, replacing her clothing and sliding the small tin into the pocket of her jeans. She was about to leave, but paused with her hand on the doorknob. "So, did you find out who's responsible for all this?" she asked him, knowing that getting that information was the only reason that he'd kept the man alive.

Guerrero nodded, moving the mop across the floor, erasing the blood from sight.

"So ... who is it?" she wanted to know.

Guerrero paused, not looking back at her. He was silent for a long moment, but then turned his head to the side, pursing his lips. "My brother."

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End of chapter nine.

I was honestly on the fence about whether I wanted it to be Elizabeth's brother, or Guerrero's brother, but in the end, I wanted to go this route. A fight between then would be much more fun to write. Also, I have no idea if Guerrero really does have a brother on the show, but for the purposes of this story, he does.

Well, what did you guys think of this one? Like it, hate it?

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

Until next time ...!