Right, this is my first fan fiction, so don't kill me if you hate it. I'm open to constructive criticism though. I may take some time updating, as I have a busy life, but don't worry if I take a while, I'll always come back!

I don't own the Bourne series, and, naturally, none of the character except for the ones I make up. So don't sue me!

Nicky followed Jason Bourne to the bus station in a daze. Her chest still ached a bit from where Desh had hit her, but she wasn't worried. She had felt far worse in her short life.

He stopped and she walked a step past him before slowly turning to face him. Jason met her eye for a moment, and then looked at the bus behind her. He's not going to say goodbye, Nicky. She silently reprimanded herself. What was she expecting? A hug, for God's sake? She took a breath then turned and walked towards the bus.

"It gets easier."

A bit surprised, she looked at him. His gaze held hers, unwavering and steady, but as cold as ever. For one long moment, she paused. She wanted to run to him, to say something, anything to break that cold stare, but she couldn't. Her shyness had kicked in, preventing her from making a sound. So she boarded the bus instead.

She glanced at her reflection in the window as she walked to a vacant seat near the back of the bus. She almost didn't recognize the pale, dark haired woman who stared back. But then she saw the fear that was always lying behind the dark eyes. It was her, all right.

"What? Are you too scared, Parsons? Why am I even asking? Of course you are! You always are!" A familiar mocking voice called from the back of her head, where she locked away her old memories. Nicky bowed her head as she sat down, trying not to let them come. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jason walk away from the station. Resting her head on the glass, she kept her eyes closed as the bus left Tangier, bound for Rabat, the capital of Morocco, where she could catch a plane. She wasn't sure where which plane she would take, but she thought maybe Asia would be a good place to go; she wanted nothing to do with Europe right now, and America was too risky.

Nicky sighed. She knew better than to fall asleep, but she couldn't help it…she was too tired…

"Parsons!"

Nicky winced as Conklin practically blew the door to her apartment off its hinges as he stormed in. "Yes sir?"

"Where are those files on Riley?"

"Here." She pushed a large stack of papers towards him. "I got everything I could find – bills, hotels, phone numbers…"

"Good. What about the others? Got any names?"

"Um…" Nicky looked through the other sheets that lay scattered over her desk. "Here we are, but it's not half as good as Riley's. I got some names and passports, but if there really are five of them, then we have two that aren't on the grid."

"Great, this is just fantastic. Riley could have just gone rouge like everyone else, but no – he's got to form is own little group and come back at us!" Conklin pounded the desk with his fist, making Nicky jump a little.

"Can't we just send an asset after him? Get him out of the picture?"

"Wouldn't I have done it already if that was an option?" Conklin snarled, "No, because he'll put the asset out of the picture faster! This guy was a high ranking member of the CIA, for Christ's sake! The only thing he doesn't know about Treadstone is the names and locations of the assets, which would really defeat the purpose of sending an asset after him, wouldn't it?"

Nicky was used to Conklin by now, and she was untouched by his little hissy fit. She was just about to tell him that she knew all of this, as she too had read Riley's file, when another figure brushed through the door. "Sir?"

"Bourne. Sit down; I'll deal with you in a minute."

Jason nodded and crossed the room to a chair. He brushed by Nicky, acknowledging her with a quick nod. "Parsons."

She returned the gesture. "Bourne."

"Okay, give me the names of his…Damn it." Conklin growled as his cell phone rung. He flipped it open, walking to a corner of the room. "Conklin."

While Conklin talked, Nicky quietly shifted though the papers, coming to a picture of a muscular man with short grey hair. Connor Riley, ex-marine, served as deputy director of the CIA for seven years before having a nervous breakdown and going rouge. He was gearing up at Treadstone, according to his last contact, and his plan involved terminating assets. Nicky had brushed with clinically insane people on numerous occasions, so she knew just how unpredictable Riley was going to be. This was just a little bit scary for all of them.

A noise on her left made her look up. Bourne was staring at her. He nodded at the picture she was looking at. "Riley?" He asked in a low voice. Nicky nodded and passed it to him. He studied it for a long moment, and then handed it back to her.

Conklin snapped the phone shut. "That was Danny." He said, running a hand through his grey hair. "Riley's going to be in Paris in two hours. The CIA can't get a grab team in fast enough – they want us to keep him under surveillance until they arrive."

"What's the catch?" Nicky asked quietly. She knew the look on his face, and it meant bad news.

"We can't use any sort of hidden cameras or ordinary tails – he'll be expecting them. No assets either, under these circumstances. A well disgusted tail may work, but there's always a risk…"

"Couldn't he torture the tail for information?"

"Congratulations, Nicky – you've managed to see one of the dilemmas. But he would recognize the faces too…he would think that anyone who looked at him for longer then two seconds is a threat, for God's sake!"

Nicky rolled her eyes, thinking that Conklin wouldn't notice.

He did.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, missy!" He roared, making her jump. "You look like a goddamn teenager when you do that! I…" He stopped suddenly, looking at her with wide eyes.

Nicky could practically see the light bulb lighting up above his head. "Sir…?"

"Take that clip out of you hair."

"What?" Nicky was bewildered. She shot a glance at Bourne, but he looked almost as confused as she was.

"Just do it."

Where was he going with this? She took out the clip that held back her blond hair and let some of it fall over her face. Conklin's eyebrows rose. "Roll your eyes again."

Nicky complied, still confused. Conklin nodded. "It might just work…" He murmured, stepping back.

"Sir, I hate to say it, but what the hell is going on?"

"You don't look a day over seventeen when you do that, and I'll bet if we found a good enough outfit, it would get even more convincing."

Nicky's jaw fell open. Was he serious? "Sir, you have got to be kidding me."

"When was the last time I told a joke?"

"Let me get this straight…you want me to dress up as a teenager, walk out there, and follow around a maniac that we just declared was prone to torturing people?"

"Yes."

"You're drunk."

Jason spoke up. "Actually, you would easily pass for a teenager on the street. I wouldn't be able to pick you out." Nicky whirled to look at him. Was that a tiny smile she saw?

Nicky sat back. "Great, just fantastic." She muttered, running a hand through her hair. If Bourne couldn't picj her out as a tail, then she must be convincing enough to dupe Riley, but…

"Well, are you going to do it, or do you not have the guts?"

Nicky sighed again. "Do I have a choice?"

Nicky jolted awake as the bus rolled to a halt. For a moment she was confused, her mind stuck in the past. Then she remembered: she was on a bus bound for Rabat, away from Tangier, away from Jason Bourne, away from Blackbriar.

Or so she hoped.

She wondered why the bus had stopped. They hadn't arrived yet. According to her watch, the bus had only been on the road for half an hour; a full four and a half hours short of what the trip should have took. She sat up to look over the seats to see the windshield. Instantly, her blood ran cold.

Blue and red flashing lights infested the road before her. Oh God, they found me. She thought in a panic. Could she get away if she smashed a window? No, that was ridiculous. She slumped back in her seat. Maybe she could hijack a squad car and make a break for it, should worst come to worst.

To her intense relief, the bus suddenly lurched forwards and continued on its way. As it passed, Nicky quietly observed the three car crash site, with four police officers keeping things in order and directing traffic. Then it passed behind her, out of sight and out of mind.

Rubbing her forehead, she thought back to the dream. That particular occurrence had been almost three years ago – back when Treadstone was running without a single glitch to its name. She had been different then…very different. The woman who had the nerve to roll her eyes at her angry boss and found maniacs just a tiny bit scary was a world away from the shy, scared woman that she had become. One traumatic experience had almost reversed her persona. Instantly, memories of dark rooms, angry voices, pain, and panic filled her head. Nausea hit her as she pushed them back, wanting nothing to do with her past.

Nicky looked out the window and focused on her future instead. She had decided to head for Hong Kong – she knew that big cities were better than small ones when it came to hiding. There were more hiding places and more distractions in a large, overpopulated place like China, and she was far less likely to be noticed or remembered. That, and she wanted to get far away from the storm Bourne had kicked up, which was likely to go to America. A pang of homesickness shot through her as she remembered New York City, where she was born and raised. She would give anything to go back, but she knew that the big city that she called home would soon be the eye of the storm…Bourne would be headed that way as well.

Bourne. She missed him too. Nicky sighed and ran a hand through her hair. How many times had he saved her now? If she counted Berlin and Paris, where he had spared her life when he shouldn't have, then the total came to five times. He did care about her, that much had been made clear. Or was that only because he knew that she knew more about him, and she was a priority to keep alive? No. He would have interrogated her in Tangier had that been the case.

Stop it, Nicky! You're not going to get yourself anywhere by torturing yourself with questions that you can't even begin to answer! She mentally reprimanded herself. He didn't remember her, and that was all that mattered. She had to move on too…she had been hanging on to his memory for too long. She looked out the window, watching the crescent moon above her.

A twisted smile appeared on her lips. She couldn't help but see the irony – while Jason struggled to remember, she was desperately trying to forget.

Sorry it's so short!! Please review, I appreciate it!