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Not Sorry Charlie

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Authoress Note: I do not own Human Target. At All. If I did, they'd still be playing the damn show and I'd have changed up some things here and there ^^ I do however, own any new characters that pop up in my stories... And my imagination when it lets me rule it xD

Extra Note:You know what? I'm sad. Why? Because! Poor Winston! He in't getting any love D: That makes me sad, cause Winston makes me laugh and is adorable in his own way... And I'm gonna give him some love :P

"Ilsa I really can't thank-you and your men enough for all this."

Ilsa smiled as she clasped her friends hands and pat them. She was still shaking a little, but the color was back in her beige skin and her almond shaped and colored eyes were calm and relaxed like they had always been in the past.

After being chased for two and a half weeks by a stalker who she had gone on one date with, having to jump out of a crashing airplane with Mr. Chance, and swim in a shark infested water to a small island to be rescued by Guerrero and Ames, she was doing much better. She no longer looked disheveled and bleak. Her chocolate brown, shoulder blade length hair was now in a simple ponytail, and she wore a simple black form hugging dress and heels.

"Will you be alright going home alone, Francis? I could ask one of my employees to drive you home," Ilsa asked as the two walked out of the office to the main sitting area of the office. Francis smiled and pat Carmine as he sniffed her and sat by Ilsa. "No no, I wouldn't want to be any trouble," she chuckled as she watched Chance practice his tai-chi.

Ilsa watched a sly smile spread across Francis's face, as she winked at Ilsa, before glancing at Chance, then back, mouthing "excellent taste". Ilsa felt her face redden as she scowled playfully at Francis who laughed lightly as Guerrero passed them, a tool box in his hand.

"Hey boss. Nice dress," Guerrero commented to them as he walked by, looking Francis over once, before sliding past them to the kitchen sink. Francis raised a brow in amusement. "That one is... Odd. You certainly hang around an amusing crowd now, Ilsa."

Ilsa smiled, hearing no chide in Francis's tone, as she pat Ilsa's shoulder. "I know what the board is up to, and I can promise you that I will stand up for you with all my power. I have no doubt in your choice to be here now." Ilsa sighed with a grateful smile, as Francis hugged her, before the two walked to the elevator.

As the elevator went up, Ilsa heard her phone ring. She looked unsure to leave, but Francis shooed her on. "Oh go on. I can get in an elevator without an escort you know?" Ilsa chuckled and gave a small nod before waving bye and walking to her office.


Francis hummed an old tune as she pushed the button again. This wasn't that big of a building. The elevator should have been up. "It's out of order, ma'am," a voice said to her right. "It goes up halfway then back down. Piece of junk never did work right," he mumbled as she glanced over, smiling at the more vocal and behind the scene member of Ilsa's bunch.

He towered over her small 5'6" feet with his possibly 6'0" feet or more, as he wiped at his black grease covered hands and a stain on his jacket, seeming to have tried to fix the elevator. "Oh well that's fine. I can take the stairs... Um... I wouldn't keep rubbing at it like that. You'll get it soaked in the fabric."

He stopped wiping at the stain and sighed in frustration and Francis chuckled. "I can remove that if you'd like?" He raised a brow as Francis walked over to a chair and sat her purse down before indicating to his jacket. She waited as he slipped off the jacket and took it before walking into the kitchen, stepping carefully over the tools spread out by dishwasher that the smaller male, Guerrero, worked away at it in a wife-beater and jeans.

Francis tapped his knee and Guerrero looked up and at his knee with a raised brow. "Does the sink work?" she asked. "Yeah dude," he answered simply, and she nodded a thanks before walking to the sink and grabbing the sink detergent. She placed the jacket on the counter before taking the sink detergent and mixing it with a bit of water, using a butter knife to swirl it all together.

The taller male walked into the kitchen to watch her. "You sure you know what you're doing, miss Francis?" he asked as she used a measuring cup to scoop up some of the watery detergent and pour it onto the grease stain. "Before I married my late husband I worked for a laundry hut. I've been around stains before, don't worry," she pat his chest as she walked by him to grab a wash cloth and walked back to rub in the detergent.

"I'm afraid I can't recall your name," she casually asked as she rubbed at the stain carefully and gently, looking back at him. "Laverne Winston, ma'am," he answered and Francis nodded. "Ah that's right... I like your name. It's cute." And she did. It was more girly than she expected, but it kind of suited him as much as her name suited her.

"Oh and you don't have to be so formal. My fname is Charlie Francis. Charlie is just fine. You did help save my life and all," she winked at him as she walked to a cabinet to grab a bottle of white vinegar before pouring it onto the detergent covered area. As she let it wash off, she filled the sink with warm and sudsy water, before dunking the whole jacket into the sink and going to work at it.


Winston watched in disbelief as she went to cleaning his jacket in an old fashion manner he hadn't seen done since he was a kid watching his mother clean clothes. She was calm and uncaring as water splashed on her dress and up her arm. For one of Ilsa's friends she was damn house wife like.

"What's going on dude?" Winston jumped slightly as Guerrero appeared beside him, wiping the gunk from the sink off his hands, watching mis- No, watching Charlie (that was her name) go to work at his jacket. She hummed to herself as she scrubbed at the jacket and pulled it up out of the water, wringing it dry and shaking it out to take a good, close, look at where the oil stain had been, before nodding happily and carefully laying it out across the table nearby.

"There we go," she chirped happily, looking pleased as she turned to them. "Just have to stick it in the dryer on a low heat for an hour and it'll be good as new." With that she picked up the jacket and walked over to them. "Do you have a laundry room here?" she asked, and Guerrero pointed down the hallway near the kitchen to a door at the end, before Winston watched his jacket and Charlie disappeared.

Guerrero raised a brow as he looked from Charlie's retreating form to Winston. "Dude she wants something." Winston scowled as he watched Charlie open the dryer and throw Chance's clothes into a clean hamper for him, before turning the dials and nobs and throwing his jacket in. "The hell you talking about?"

Guerrero grunted. "Dude when a woman does something, she never does it for free, dude. She wants something," he clarified as he walked back over to the dishwasher and his tool, lowering himself back to the floor near the wires and gears. "Now how do you know she's not just doing it as a thank-you for saving her life?" he asked as he heard the drier come to life. "Nobody does things for free, dude. Especially not women."

Winston scowled deeper and threw up his hands at the man.


Charlie, pleased with herself, walked back into the kitchen, seeing Winston glare at Guerrero, as she cleared her throat to get his attention. He had a sort of grumpy-bear scowl that Charlie couldn't help but find kind of adorable on him. "All done. Just take it out and sldie it on when the dry is finished," she explained happily.

Winston gave a small, almost weary, smile. "Thank-you, Charlie. Is there anything I can do for you for this?" She tilted her head as she heard Guerrero, from behind the dishwasher, mumble something, as Winston sent him a glare. "Of course not. It was simply my way of saying thank-you."

Winston relaxed a little, smiling just a little more. "You sure?" he asked. Charlie raised a brow. Of course she was sure. She hated stains and hated to see a good and well kept jacket ruined from a small stain. And he had helped save her life. It seemed only right to return a favor to him and the others when she got a chance.

'Maybe he wants to do something in return,' a small voice added in her mind, as she crossed her arms. Well maybe. He did seem like a man who wanted to keep things nice and even. 'He is kind of cute. In a cuddly, grumpy-bear way.' She could agree with that... Well. If he wanted to, perhaps...

"Well Mr. Winston, if you would like to do something for me... Perhaps you wouldn't mind going with me to the opera and diner this Fridaynight? I do still need an escort." she smiled almost slyly as the mans mouth seemed to drop. She couldn't help but chuckle at his silence. "I'll take that as a yes?" she asked as he, again, remained silent and wide mouthed and eyed. She smiled and walked back to the living-room to her purse, removing a a card with her cell-phone and business number, before handing it to him. "You can reach me at this number. They're black-tie formals, so look your best. I can have my driver pick you up here, OK?"

Charlie beamed as she pulled her purse over her shoulder. "Well I best be going. I've got a date with my mother tonight and if I miss Ill never here the end of it. See you this Friday." Charlie winked and waved, before sauntering out the kitchen and out to the stairway to outside, leaving Winston baffled and Guerrero humming.

"Told you, dude."

R&R Plz

Cheesy, maybe a bit rushesd and silly, and a whole lot of fun xD Thats what this is. Yep.