Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

"You know, in all these years of owning and acquiring exotic reptiles, I've never been interviewed this thoroughly prior to a purchase. I feel like I've been interrogated by Homeland Security or something." The middle-aged man tried to hide his uneasiness by putting on a lopsided smile. "What comes next? Are you going to ask me for permission to take a look at my computer's hard disk?"

"Permission?"

The man's smile froze. "I… I promise I'll treat this Taipan like one of my children… better!... I swear, I've never seen a more beautiful and well-kept exemplar and I'll do everything in my power to keep it that way." Jesus, this vendor seriously gave him the creeps.

"I expect nothing less of you."

… … …

The chief hadn't been exactly thrilled by his decision to hold the woman in his arms till she died instead of letting the EMTs try their luck. Most likely the reason he had assigned him to this going-nowhere case regarding the shootout at the docks… A professional hit, a shaky witness who insisted she didn't know anything… There was nothing he could work on and the chief knew that very well – this case was a dead end.

Winston looked at his hands and wondered. He had done some research: The woman's (he just hated calling her "Box" – too close to "coffin") appearance at his bedside and at the warehouse in Palo Alto hadn't been singular events. He had found at least twenty cases all over the USA involving a mysterious expert for poisonous animals and plants showing up and helping out in dire situations. On several occasions she had put her life on the line to safe a victim.

He looked at his hands again. The blood had been washed off days ago, but they still felt sticky.

It had been his idea to put the tracker on her. His idea that had eventually killed her.

He still remembered her squeezing his left hand and telling him to relax.

Had she not died a miserable death in his arms, slowly suffocating from the blood in her lungs, would he have wanted her to go to court and eventually face the chair? Would he have wasted another thought on her?

She had been a ruthless assassin. And she had tried to change her ways.

What a dilemma…

Enough to make you drink at 2.30 in the afternoon.

"I just have whatever he's having", a man in a business suit he had never seen before said, taking a seat right next to him. "Rough day at work?", he asked.

One could say so.

… … …

The Old Man's voice on the phone: "Junior is off the reservation. Drop everything come handle this."

In the days past Alice's demise Guerrero had refused to take on assignments from Joubert's organization, claiming to be busy with another job. Of course he hadn't told them what had really happened. Except for Junior nobody had been aware of their relationship, so why should he inform them about her death? So that they would respect his need for a period of mourning?

Sure.

Besides that, he still had a reputation to protect. If the others knew about Box having been his girlfriend they would expect nothing less of him than making those police officers pay big time – both of them: The one who had shot her and the one who had told the EMTs to stay away. But Guerrero hadn't even bothered to find out their names. He could easily imagine Alice asking the policeman to let her die. Had she not bled to death, she would have taken the pill. And regarding the other one, the one that had shot her… this decision had been a lot harder, but if he was honest to himself, it hadn't been that cop's fault.

It had been his.

He shouldn't have tolerated her idiotic behavior. He should have put a stop to it.

And now Junior…

Maybe he could do right with him what he had done wrong with Alice. He would finish the job for him and then take him somewhere. Talk sense into him. Set his head straight. Confront him – maybe fight him so he could reconnect with his instincts.

"I'm on my way", Guerrero told the Old Man.

… … …

"Quit acting like a baby…"

Even while he was saying it he knew it was useless. All hopes he had had before walking into that cabin had vanished the second he saw his friend and the way he pointed the gun at him. Junior was beyond rescue. He wasn't willing to listen, he had made up his mind. Just as stubborn as Alice had been. He was going to lose him, just like he had lost her, maybe as soon as tomorrow, maybe in a year or two. But he would lose him.

He wasn't going to stick around and watch his friend slowly destroy himself. No chance in hell.

There was only one thing left he could do.

Either way, it would mean goodbye.

… … …

The interrogator's voice, so many years later: "I imagine at some point during that confrontation you had the opportunity to end things. Why didn't you?"

"My heart grew three sizes that day", he spat. But the true answer was ringing loud and clear in his head.

"Because it was in my hands. That one time it was in my hands…"

the end