A/N: Hiya all, a few of you will probably have got this update from my Victorious stories: I apologise if you aren't interested in the Bourne series. I, however, love it. To everyone, including those who didn't get an update because of Victorious, I understand that there are probably hundreds of stories of Kirill and Bourne working together, but this is my own spin. Don't know how far this will go: this first chapter can be considered a one-shot, although there is some explicit information about what's going to happen in the future. Think of them as my gift, to you all, just while I lay the groundwork. I'd appreciate any feedback, positive and constructive, but anything outright negative will just get trashed. If you're just going to rip on my story, don't bother with the review. As I said, anything I can improve is greatly appreciated. Also, I apologise to any Russian-speaking readers: I don't speak Russian, let alone write/type it, so I've pulled this from Google Translate. I've Italic'd the English in anyway, so if what I've put is total bull, at least you know what I was intending to mean

Jamsaner

An Old Foe

It was a cold, dreary, Wednesday morning in Hamburg, and for one of the few times in his life, Jason regretted one of his decisions. He'd been so sure that there was no need to finish the job: yet, here was the man who had hunted him from Goa to Berlin, and who he'd last seen dying in a crumpled car in a tunnel.

Kirill. The Russian was standing in front of him, a Walther P99 pointed directly at his head. The same P99, Jason suspected as the seconds ticked by, that he'd shot him with in Berlin. Kirill was unreadable, his face blank as the gun was held steady at his head. Bourne knew his instincts would kick in soon, that he'd dive left where his Sig P225 was hidden, and that he'd go from there. He was surprised, in fact that they hadn't kicked in yet. He suspected, as a bead of sweat dripped down his face, that it was just the shock of seeing him. He had sworn to himself, and to Abbot, that he wouldn't kill those responsible for Marie's death; even the one who pulled the trigger. Yet, his human decision had turned around and bitten him. It was a human decision that he'd had drilled out of him, first in the Green Berets, and then in Treadstone. And throughout all this, Kirill was still standing there, the gun was still pointed at his temple, yet he hadn't pulled the trigger yet, and Jason knew the same things were going through Kirill's head. He couldn't pull himself to do it, after Jason had spared his life. Finally thinking that enough was enough, Jason broke the silence, and the ice.

"Возьмите выстрел." Take the shot.

"No" Kirill answered, speaking in English.

"Why." Jason said. The two assassins were not used to long sentences; it was similar to their jobs: kill the target quickly, efficiently and with minimal contact with yourself.

"Because you did not." Kirill said simply, and for the first time, he sighed. Seeing the human act relaxed Jason. Kirill lowered the gun, looking at Jason.

"Why did you not take shot" Kirill muttered, and Jason looked him in the eyes.

"Because I knew killing the person who killed Marie wouldn't bring her back. Plus you looked like you weren't lasting long anyway." Bourne said, and Kirill smiled.

"Defied you then, did I not?" he asked, and this time it was Bourne's turn to smile.

"I was never much good at guessing how long someone had left to live when they'd been crushed between a taxi and a divider" Bourne answered.

"They never taught me that, either." Kirill muttered, and the two men, polar opposite yet complete equals, shared another grin. Kirill's, however, quickly slid from his face.

"Do you mind if I stay with you? My client won't be too pleased you're still alive."

Jason debated for a second. Was their banter merely a shield, a veil to cover his true intentions? To slit his throat when he slept? Jason quickly shot that idea down: he rarely slept since Marie's death, and so going another night's worth wouldn't be difficult.

"I guess. Where are you going to go?" It was Kirill's time to be thoughtful, before he answered.

"Maybe Goa. You were there for some time, before they found you. Well... I found you." Jason stood there for a second, the painful memory of Marie resurfacing. Stuffing it back, he smiled, before heading out of the hallway of his hotel room, where Kirill had cornered him. He padded into the main room, years of experience and practice ensured he was too quiet for a human to hear. Behind him, Kirill was equally as quiet. As they settled down, a couch each, a phone went off. It was Jason's. Picking it up, he was anxious to see that the number was unknown. Who had got hold of this number? A small part of him begging that it was Nicky, who hadn't contacted him for the three months since his high dive into the East River. He answered.

"Jason Bourne. A pleasure, to finally talk to you in person. The fact that you're still alive, after I just sent Kirill into your apartment, tells me that he has either failed and is dead, or is still there. If he is, put him on speaker. I want him to hear this." The voice said. It was not one he recognised, yet he did recognise the accent. American. He looked at Kirill, who seemed to have guessed what had been said. He nodded. Pressing a button, Jason placed the phone on the table.

"I am here." Kirill said, and there was a chuckle from the phone.

"Kirill. You know you're not getting the rest of your considerably large cut? Ah well, I had a feeling there'd be some emotional pull stopping you from killing him. It's why the price was so high."

"Enough talk, Bronson. What do you want?"

"Other than your head? Well. There will be a meeting, held in Naples, Italy, one week today. At this meeting, will be several members of a rival company of mine. They will have the tightest, most effective security you can expect to see anywhere. I want you to kill them. Everyone single one of them. And I will pay you both $20million."

"We work alone." Bourne muttered, repeating the message told to him by The Professor, way back in southern France. When Marie was still alive.

"I know you do, Jason. It's why I want to put the two of you together. Not only do you have to fight that instinct, that one cardinal sin that you never, ever work with another agent, but the same one who killed your girlfriend! There are a few exceptions, of course. When the members of this company are all dead, I will step in and buy it. Of course, that means I will own that building too, and I must say it is a rather beautiful building. Therefore, you are not allowed any explosives at all. Any kind of damage like that, and I will personally cut out of your balls and feed them to each other. Am I clear?"

"What makes you think we will agree to this, Bronson?" Kirill muttered.

"Well, if you don't want your head on my fucking wall, Kirill. Plus, I want Jason dead too. He's a threat if someone ever wants my own head. This way, I become one of the richest men on the planet, if not the richest, and the two of you walk away with considerably heavier pockets yourselves, plus the chance to go free. If you don't agree, I have enough men out her to take you both down, despite the legends surrounding you both."

"Чёрт." Shit. Kirill muttered.

"I heard that, Kirill. So gentleman, what will it be?" Jason looked at Kirill, who nodded at him. Sighing, Jason turned back to the faceless voice of this man Bronson, who obviously had Kirill wrapped around his little finger.

"We're in." Jason said.

"Good, good. Now, I suggest you get out of there."

"What, why?" Jason asked, before an RPG blasted into the side of the hotel room, blasting a hole big enough to shoot into, rubble raining down on the two assassins, the partners.

Then they started shooting.