Author's note:All the fics in the Constellation Series are adapted from a much longer fic (also posted on ffnet) called Comfort. The main difference is that whilst Comfort is a slash fic, the stories in the Constellation Series are not. Mostly they are one-shots that can be read alone, but I will also be adapting the longer case-fics that make up quite a large chunk of Comfort.

I am (re)posting these fics for two main reasons: 1. Not everyone likes slash and 2. Comfort is quite a long fic, so not everyone has the time or inclination to wade through it all!

If you have already read Comfort you'll find a lot of the Constellation Series is basically the same, so feel free to skip it.

As always, I don't own Human Target and I make no money from this.

It had been a quiet week. The team's last case had been wrapped up with surprisingly little bloodshed for once, and although Chance was still second-guessing whether or not it all could have played out differently, everyone else was content with the fact that it had a satisfactory ending. Their client was safe and the bad guys were either dead or behind bars.

Chance and Guerrero spent most of their time in the old storeroom that served as Chance's gym, doing whatever passed as training to a couple of ex-assassins with time on their hands. As far as Winston could tell, it mostly consisted of them pummelling the crap out of the battered old punching bag that was one of the few things that Ilsa had left alone during the office renovations, interspersed with bouts of beating the crap out of each other.

Winston left them to it, but Ilsa seemed fascinated, but also a little concerned by what they were doing. She stood in the doorway, watching them for a while, until Winston went to ask her if everything was alright.

"It astounds me that two people can subject each other to such punishment and still keep on going back for more," Ilsa said, flinching as Guerrero brought Chance crashing to the ground with a scissor-kick.

"It looks brutal," Winston agreed, "but these two have been doing this for a long time. They're actually being fairly cautious. It's highly unlikely that they'd do each other any serious damage."

"Is this really what they consider to be training?" Ilsa asked, as Chance twisted free from Guerrero's legs and rolled back to his feet.

Winston shrugged, "I suspect this is more a case of letting off some steam."

Ilsa turned away as the two men exchanged a flurry of blows and kicks that she felt sure would result in broken bones. Winston put his arm round her shoulders and gently steered her away from the open door.

"There's really no need for you to watch them fight like savages, Ilsa."

"No, I suppose not," Ilsa sighed.

Winston took her to the kitchen and sat her down with a coffee. From the way she sat there frowning at her mug, he could tell that she was still concerned about Chance.

"He'll be fine in a few days. Trust me," Winston said reassuringly.

"Oh, I trust you Mr Winston, it's just…" she hesitated for a moment. "Shouldn't we be offering Chance some kind of professional counselling? It doesn't seem right, leaving him to Guerrero's tender mercies."

Winston smiled. "I've been trying to get Chance to see a shrink for years, Ilsa. He won't hear of it."

"But leaving it to Guerrero to get him back on an even keel? Is that wise?"

Winston sat down opposite Ilsa and smoothed one hand over his head as he considered the best way to phrase what he had to say.

"Guerrero doesn't give a damn about much in this world, but if there's one person he cares about more than his own sorry hide, it's Chance. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a much better understanding as to what goes on in Chance's head than I do. Just because he doesn't seem to have any scruples of his own, it doesn't mean that he doesn't understand the mental anguish that Chance's own sense of morality puts him through."

Ilsa looked doubtful.

"Hey," Winston said, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture, "I never said it made sense!"

"I just think there must be a better way for Chance to deal with his feelings," she said.

"Oh, I agree with you. But try telling that to Chance!"

Ilsa wondered, not for the first time, what she had gotten herself into by getting involved with Chance and his team. They didn't seem to function in the normal way, even at the most basic emotional level, and sometimes she felt as if she would be totally lost without Winston to guide her through the baffling process of dealing with Chance and Guerrero.

She did at least feel that she had some kind of handle on Chance's motivations: he was trying to make amends for his past misdeeds, but Guerrero? He seemed to have no problem with using violence and torture to get results, and he clearly never suffered the crisis of conscience that Chance had. She tried not to dwell on the question of what he did on his own time, and whether or not he adhered to Chance's policy of avoiding killing people whenever possible. It was a mystery how Chance maintained a friendship with possibly the most violent and ruthless person she'd ever met without it conflicting with his personal mission to do something good with his life.

Ilsa had to concede that Guerrero did have his moments though. There were occasions when he would do something that was thoughtful, in his own odd way, but there was always something slightly sinister about it. He had opened a bar tab for Ames, but it had been in an establishment so notoriously dangerous that Ames would have had to be extremely foolish to go there alone. And then there was his gift of the sheaf of paper that he'd told her was the same kind that the US Treasury used to use, before it ran into supply issues. The implications of Guerrero being in possession of such an item were perfectly clear, and the paper still sat in the bottom drawer of her desk, as she wasn't entirely sure as to the legality of her using it.

Nothing about Guerrero was straight-forward.

"I understand the principle guys. I know it's all about levers and stuff, I'd just rather know how to kick some ass!"

"Forget it, dude. You'd have more luck trying to teach a goldfish. Their attention span is supposed to be a whole three seconds."

Ames glared at Guerrero sullenly. She'd been watching Chance and Guerrero spar all afternoon and she'd finally plucked up the courage to ask Chance to show her some moves, but unfortunately Guerrero had overheard her request. She'd nearly turned on her heel and marched right out of there when he'd laughed at her, but Chance seemed to think that teaching her some basic moves was a good idea, and he'd persuaded her to stay.

"Look, I don't need to know all that weird kung-fu shit that you guys do," she said to Chance. "I just want to be able to throw a decent punch without spraining my wrist!"

"But it's much more likely that you'd be attacked, rather than be the aggressor," Chance explained. "It's going to be far more useful for you to learn how to deal with someone trying to grab you."

"Oh, thanks! " Ames said. "I get to play the helpless little girl until one of you big strong men come and rescue me, is that it?"

"Pretty much," Guerrero muttered. Chance gave him a warning look.

"Ames, this isn't a sexism thing, I'm just trying to be realistic," Chance said patiently. "If you threw your best punch at a guy like me, all you're likely to do is piss him off. Your best option is to avoid confrontation, not initiate it."

"I guess," Ames sighed.

"So let's start with the basics. It's unlikely that you're going to have strength or size on your side, so it really comes down to getting your opponent off-balance and breaking free of his grasp."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, run away…"

"I told you, dude. It's a waste of time trying to teach lil miss know-it-all," Guerrero said impatiently.

Chance put his hands on Ames' shoulders and turned her so her back was to him, then dropped one hand so he was only gripping one shoulder.

"Okay, so some one grabs you like this. What do you do?"

Ames tried driving her elbow backwards into Chance's stomach, but it had little effect on his muscular bulk.

"That might work if your attacker wasn't expecting you to fight back," Chance said. "Try again."

This time Ames tried to kick back against Chance's shins, but he always seemed to anticipate her moves.

"You see the problem?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Ames said.

"You can't make me let go just by random flailing about. You need to use my hold on you to your advantage. Guerrero?"

Guerrero glared at them but reluctantly stood behind Chance and put one hand on his right shoulder, as if he were attacking him. Chance twisted round, throwing his right arm backwards and over Guerrero's attacking arm, locking it against his body so they were face to face with Chance holding Guerrero in an arm lock.

"I now have him off-balance, he's let go of my shoulder and I still have one hand free to jab my fingers in his eyes or to drive the heel of my hand into his nose."

"Now that's more like it!" Ames said, perking up at the idea of poking an attacker's eyes out. "Show me that again, slower this time."

Guerrero grumbled about being used as an attack dummy, but he begrudgingly went along with it. Ames surprised them by picking up the techniques pretty quickly and Chance even promised to show her a few throws next time.

After an hour or so, Chance could see that Guerrero's patience with the project was wearing wafer-thin so they called it a day.

"Same time tomorrow?" Ames asked hopefully.

"Sure. Why not?" Chance said, much to Guerrero's annoyance.

"You know she's going to be even more unbearable now," Guerrero said once Ames had left.

"It can't hurt for her to know how to take care of herself," Chance replied.

"No, but I'm willing to bet she's dying to try out those moves you showed for real. We so don't need her getting any big ideas in the middle of a job."

"I'm sticking strictly to the defensive stuff for now. I'm sure she won't cause too much trouble with that."

"I hope you're right, dude."

They sparred for a while, but Chance found that Guerrero was taking out his frustration about being made to act as a practice dummy for Ames out on him. After he dropped Chance on his ass for the third time in as many minutes, Chance decided to call it a day.

"Is it really necessary for you to keep doing that?" Chance protested. "You know my knee is still a bit dodgy."

Guerrero shrugged unsympathetically. "Not my problem dude. You really think a real opponent would make allowances for an existing weakness?"

Chance didn't get the opportunity to reply as Winston stormed in angrily.

"What the hell have you two maniacs been teaching Ames?" Winston roared. "She had her earphones in and when I tapped her on the shoulder she damn near poked my eyes out!"

"Told you, dude," Guerrero said with a smirk, before walking out and leaving Chance to explain Ames' actions to Winston.