Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

A/N: So this is it - gaaah! The final chapter of my take on what season five might have been like. I can't believe I got so far... and I would never ever have if not for the relentless efforts of niagaraweasel. Every day she spends between two and three HOURS beta reading whatever I send her, making suggestions, playing my soundboard. This has turned into a real life friendship which has tremendously enriched my life. Thank you, dear friend. Thank you.

I also wouldn't know what to do without the constant support of veniceit who more than once had to remind me that sleep, yes, is a necessity. Pocket Sevens, minx227 and mvignal, THANK YOU for your feedback both public and private! You really keep me going. To all my silent readers: This story is read by about 25 people and every single one of you means the world to me. Special greetings to the UK, Australia and Ireland!

I'm going to write a sixth season, called "Jishin means". This weekend I'll be working and travelling again. I don't think I'll be able to post anything, but I hope come Tuesday I'll be back in the saddle and can start with the first chapter of the first "episode". I so hope you liked this season. It would be great if you decided to give the next a try, too - see you!

In the car, Ash was exceptionally silent. No cell phone ringing, no listening to music on his ipod. Head resting against the window, he was staring off into the distance instead.

Chance knew this state of exhaustion well. The adrenalin rush was slowly wearing off, the pain was increasingly overshadowing all other sensations. What was much worse, though, were all the thoughts suddenly pouring in, the endless stream of "what ifs" and "I should haves" that kept you awake at night or could make you turn to the bottle.

"Jobs do go south, you know. Sometimes things simply are beyond your control."

Chance flinched as soon the words had left his mouth. Jobs did go south? Had he just called Ash's figure skating ordeal a job? Had he unintentionally likened what Ash had done to what he did for a living? NO! For heaven's sake, no! His son was not like him.

"As sad as it is, some things are irreversible", Philippa just then softly chimed in. "You can't undo them, no matter how much you regret your part in it and would like to make it all alright again. Life always goes on. No matter what, the wheels keep on grinding. It can bring you down at times. Keeping on living, that's the hardest part. Facing another day and trying to do better, despite the weight on your shoulders... Letting guilt and remorse eat you away is just as wrong as ignoring the consequences of your actions. Finding a balance and never giving yourself up, that's the real challenge."

Ash raised his head at Philippa's words. She had spoken so seriously… in a totally different tone than he was used to from her…. She always treated him with respect, never made him feel like he was a baby… but this stood out nevertheless. She had addressed him like an adult.

Looking from his father to his mother and back again, it suddenly dawned on Ash that they both knew, really knew, what they were talking about. The thin lines on his father's face as he clenched his jaw... The sad shimmer in his mother's eyes… They, too, had done things they deeply regretted.

His first impulse was to ask what they were talking about, what deeds they had committed that made them so understanding for his situation. A tiny little voice inside his head, however, stopped him before he could bombard them with questions: Do you really want to know? Are you sure? Never wake a sleeping dragon…

Oh great. Perfect moment for a Harry Potter quote.

But there was some truth to it…

Suddenly Ash was afraid. The expression on his parents' faces… More afraid than he had ever been in his life.

He kept his mouth shut.

A second later his father's cell phone signaled. "Ilsa", Chance grinned. "For some reason she's hell-bent on cooking tonight – she's ordered groceries!"

"Groceries" as in fresh vegetables?" Philippa laughed, shooing away the somber mood her words had created. "Your fridge is probably going to die from shock!"

His mother's laughter loosened the knot in Ash's stomach again. No matter what, these were his parents. And goddamn, was he glad to have them.

… … …

Michele's eyes slowly fluttered open. According to the doctors she'd heal completely, just a bit of rest… food that would rebuild her strength… a thorough physical therapy and a good psychologist. It would take a while, but she'd recover.

Winston couldn't wait till she was fully awake again. There was so much he wanted to tell her.

He squeezed her hand, lightly stroked her skin with his thumb in small, irregular circles. Back before they had gotten married he had done that a lot. The long incarceration had turned her fingers bony and thin… but this would all go away again… she'd completely recover. This was the best news he had gotten in a long time.

Her eyes were completely open now, and they had found focus on him.

"Hey", Winston whispered.

Michele managed a smile. "Thank you", she croaked.

Winston cautiously kissed her forehead.

Silence filled the room, disturbed by nothing but her ragged breathing.

"Winston?" Her voice was barely audible. Tears were filling her eyes. "I'd like… I'd like…"

"Shhh, darling…" He reached for a tissue on the nightstand. "Whatever it is, I'll get it for you."

"Hank…", she whispered, a single tear rolling down her face.

… … …

Later Winston couldn't remember how he found the way out of the room, to the reception desk where he somehow let the nurse know that she needed to call Hank, and to the door of the hospital. He came back to his senses on the parking lot, when someone took the keys of his car from his hand before he had a chance to unlock the door.

"Don't think you should drive, dude."

Winston knew he should want to shout, kick, hammer his fist into the vehicle's roof… but he felt nothing but emptiness. It was as if all strength had left his body.

"Ilsa keeps the really good stuff in her safe", Guerrero told him. "20 year old Scotch... She thinks it's safe there." His trademark wolfish grin appeared on his face. "Let's prove her wrong." Almost gently he maneuvered Winston into the car.

… … …

Second place is fine.

"Everything alright?", Chance asked his son, who was still staring at the text message from Helen he had received a couple of moments ago.

"Yeah… I'm good…", Ash replied absentmindedly. So we okay?, he texted back.

The answer came promptly.

I would've KILLED u if u had dropped her.

Good to know. Ash returned to chopping zucchini alongside his parents. Ames and Ilsa were busy creating the dessert – freestyle, from what it sounded:

"More chocolate, we need more chocolate."

"This strawberry sauce is simply fantastic, come on, let's add some more."

"A couple of pistachios surely can't hurt, can they?"

"Isn't this somehow against the Marshall Pucci Foundation's employee Health and Wellness program?", Chance joked, slicing the carrots into pieces so thin, you could almost look through them.

"Tonight we're heavy on the wellness", Ilsa replied in mock seriousness, then started laughing. She was so, so relieved to have them all back, unharmed. To hell with cholesterol, fat and sugar!

The elevator dinged and out stepped Winston and Guerrero. They seemed to be a bit surprised to find the office so crowded, and for a tiny moment Winston even looked as if he wanted to turn around and leave again, but then Ames offered him a spoon full of chocolate sauce.

Uncharacteristically reluctantly, he took it, paused, tasted the creamy substance, paused again, looked around at the people his life was revolving around for so many years now.

For a moment, without actually realizing it, they all halted, looked back at him.

Slowly Winston let his gaze wander from one person to the next – Philippa… Ash… Ames… Ilsa… Guerrero… and Chance. He let his eyes rest on Chance the longest. Chance was looking straight back at him.

He knew they were both thinking about the same thing – the moment in the subterranean cell, when they had struggled to protect each other from Innokentij's bullet.

So foolish. He could have killed them both.

But letting the other die?

I'd do it again, the look on Chance's face said.

Me too, said the look on Winston's face.

He went to lay the table with the help of Ash, while Guerrero and Chance took over the rather delicate task of sewing the vegetables into thin wraps of meat.

"Why do you think the Russian dude let you go?", Guerrero asked quietly. The others were in such a good mood, no need to ruin that.

"No idea", Chance replied, pressing his lips together. "Somehow I doubt he suddenly discovered his humanitarian side."

Ames came over to let them taste the sauce for the meat rolls. "Ilsa's recipe", she chirped happily. "I spiced it up a bit."

They both fell silent. Innokentij was a tomorrow problem.

Tonight they were alive and well.

The sauce tasted fantastic.

… … …

In his new transitory HQ Innokentij poured himself and his assistant a generous amount of Bourbon.

"You look pretty satisfied", his assistant dared to remark. "Thought you'd be madder after losing that woman and the HQ…" He swallowed drily, wondering if he had overstepped a line.

"Rumor has it the Basil found out who had wanted to kill him… looks like internal fighting will soon split his organization apart… new business opportunities for us…"

"But what about this man, Christopher Chance? You could've eliminated a source of further trouble."

Innokentij regarded his assistant for a moment long enough to make him break out into cold sweat.

"I'm sure you can answer the question yourself", he finally said.

This was a test. If his assistant would be able to come up with the correct answer, he had definitely gotten too clever to be allowed around any longer. Innokentij just couldn't take the risk.

"It's because of the boy, isn't it?", the assistant tentatively tried.

Too bad, Innokentij thought.

"A young man grows wings when he comes of age. Hurt him and he'll use them to lash out at you. Feed him right and he'll always come flying back to you", he explained, casually reaching for the poison in his signet ring.