A Common Enemy

Chapter One

Set For Collision

For Cameron, the choice placed before her was infuriating. In one hand, she held a printed image of a vase of red roses; in the other, a printed image of a vase of yellow tulips. She had to choose one for the theme of the wedding. Her wedding. With John. The thought sent her emotion simulator activating. But there was an issue; she had to choose a type of flower for the wedding. Everything hinged on this one decision, because the ribbons and colors could only be ordered after she had picked a type of flower. These insignificant floras were halting the entire wedding.

Despite what John constantly muttered when he thought he was talking too quietly to hear, her fashion sense was not as innate as he would believe. It was more researched every night when she connected to the internet, in an attempt to wait for John to wake. So she was unable to determine why she should have roses over tulips or why color was such an important decision. There would be color and scents either way, wouldn't there? Or did the tulips have a more proper smell for a wedding? There was no data she could research for that purpose. Nor could she choose by checking how many weddings had roses against tulips.

The man she loved, John Connor, was no help in this dilemma either. She had tried to get him to help her with a choice she didn't understand at all, but something seemed to bother him. Cameron had noted that it involved Derek. Every time she managed to convince John to help her with a task she didn't understand, Derek was nearby. He would mutter the words, "John and flowers." At hearing this, John's face would turn red and he would storm away muttering death threats before Cameron could do a trace on him. Derek would always laugh afterwards. It was plain to Cameron by now that Derek was teasing John, but she didn't understand how. Did John have a painful memory with flowers? Or were they referring to what John had once called the 'guy' thing?

Nearby where Cameron was standing, Sarah passed by with a laundry basket. "I do not understand," she told Sarah. Sarah sensed a Cameron question. Knowing she had already accepted the machine as her daughter in law, she might as well start acting friendlier. Sarah put the basket down.

"What don't you understand?" Sarah asked. It didn't miss the mother's trained eye that Cameron the flower images in her hand. She'd had those images for three days now. The machine seemed to have a fashion sense; couldn't she pick flowers? Sarah decided that if she was asked to pick to just go with Cameron's left hand.

"Why is it that Derek is able to tease John by mentioning flowers whenever I am seeking his advice?" Cameron asked. Now Sarah understood. So that was why John hated his uncle at the moment.

"Well, flowers are considered to be a feminine trait," Sarah explained. "Men in these times are supposed to be masculine: tough, hairy, whatever. To be choosing flowers for a wedding would be seen as extremely feminine and by being feminine they're 'undermining' their masculinity." Men and their pride; Derek takes his too far.

Cameron tilted her head. "But would it not be more efficient to be both feminine and masculine? That way a person could be passive or aggressive depending on the situation. Wouldn't only choosing aggressiveness lead to trouble?"

Sarah growled and grabbed the laundry basket, reminded of something irritating. "You would think so," she grumbled, moving to the washing machine.

"Thank for explaining," Cameron called after her. She returned to her examination of the images. So John didn't want to choose flowers because it would be seen as feminine and not masculine? She filed the information under John and the newer Guy databases. A lot of mysteries in John's file had been transferred to the Guy database. Cameron wondered if John would like the roses then. The roses were red, similar to blood. Combat was masculine and there was blood in combat.

Analyzing logic………processing chain of thought………logic concluded; answer is true………recommended course of action: choose red roses for chain of reference to masculinity; inform John of assurance of his masculinity.

Cameron walked towards John's room. The door was shut as usual. She raised her hand to open the door and paused. Did John want her just walking in still? Derek knocked; Sarah did on occasion. Did she have the right to enter? A short logic check said yes. She opened the door and went in. John was sitting on his bed, staring at the container of Joseph's blood. Joseph had given it to him right before he died. She recognized it as what would start Project Vader. It was also a testament to his memory.

John looked up and smiled. "Hey Cam," he greeted. He noticed the pictures. "Oh no…"

"I have made a decision regarding the flowers," she told him. She was pleased when his face exhibited relief and joy. She had aided in securing something that was important to him, even though she wasn't certain why. She was about to tell him why, but her hearing picked up a car rolling up to the driveway. "Ellison is here," she told him.

He stood up, and Cameron put the images on his desk for now. They went out to greet Ellison in the living room. Sarah came out from the laundry room and Derek, well; John wasn't sure where he had been. It must have been close; he had two different gun parts and cleaning fluid on his hands. "Hey cop," Derek greeted, as casual as always.

John noticed that something was different about the FBI detective today though. He was wringing his hands, and he looked pale. Sarah noticed it too. "Something wrong?" Sarah asked.

Ellison paused to think before he answered. "Did the FBI find us?" John asked, ready to grab his stuff and run. Ellison continued to think, as though he was about to tell them somebody had died.

"A fugitive, wanted by the CIA and NSA both, recently entered the border of the United States," Ellison began. The Connors, Reese, and Phillips listened to him intently. Ellison took a deep breath. "Because he's in the US, that means the CIA and NSA can't directly hunt him. And the FBI wasn't too eager to draw away manpower from elsewhere. So, they're making a deal."

"The FBI and the others?" Derek asked. "What did the FBI want in return?"

"They wanted John Connor caught, killed if necessary," Ellison answered. A sense of foreboding entered the room, and Cameron checked for exits and possible threats three times over before Ellison even started again. "Any associates of his are under the same fate."

"I thought we were dropped," Sarah stated.

"You had been," Ellison agreed. "But with recent circumstances, they've realized that you're not dead after all. So in exchange for diverted manpower, the CIA is sending somebody to deal with the 'Connor' situation. I have a guess, but I'm not certain."

"I'm not worried about being found," John said. "We've been here under the FBI's noses; we can outsmart a CIA guy." Ellison didn't appear to believe him.

"The FBI has picked me to meet the CIA contact, since I worked on your case before," Ellison finished. "Once we've met, I'll tell you about him."

Sarah shifted around. "Who do you think it will be that's unnerved you?" Sarah asked.

"A former CIA assassin, one of those from that Black Briar program that just went public and through the news."

"Black what?" Derek repeated. "We haven't been exactly in the real world for a while. I haven't been watching TV anyway, except for that Wizard of Oz movie."

"They're deadly people," Ellison finished. "Enough to concern me."

"We have Cam," John concluded. He gave her a smile. "She's tougher than any assassin or whatever they send."

It appeared to relieve Ellison. "You're probably right. Just thought I would give you a heads up," he said. He left afterward; he had no reason to stay around. Everyone went back to what they were doing. John headed towards the computer. He had heard of the Black Briar scandal, but didn't think it important; he had thought it was just another corrupt program. But now he wanted to know the background at least. Cameron joined him, massaging his shoulders.

*****

Jason D. W. Bourne was returning from his daily jog when the phone rang. Out of instinct he checked to see if the noise caused any disturbance and he checked the number ID as well. The home Landy had managed to secure for him and Nicky Parsons was in a subdivision near the NASA Kennedy Space Center; but old habits died hard. Bourne would remain forever alert and suspicious of everything around him. When had he been given a break before? Neither Jason nor David could remember one before Treadstone. He did recognize the number as one he wanted and dreaded, depending on the persona.

Nicky came around the corner, waiting to hear what the conversation was about. She would know what he was thinking as he said it. They shared a very intimate understanding of each other's feelings and thoughts through their body postures and stances; it had come from years of working together and loving each other. "You called," Bourne said into the receiver. The person on the other end, whom he knew as someone skilled in their field, was not taken back by his impolite greeting.

"I did," Landy agreed. "I'm calling in my favor on the house I got you. It's a simple assignment: short, quick, and uncomplicated." It was like a prayer of his had finally been answered. The only simple assignments Bourne had done recently were mowing the lawn. Everything since Wombosi that night on the boat had been complicated and stressing. If Landy's intelligence wasn't wrong, he had something simple. Complicated had been one reason David had been dreading this call.

The other reason the persona David Webb had been dreading the call was that while he owed Landy for finding them a place to live and hide away from the world, it meant at some point he would be called back into action to once again enter the darker world. David was content to remain in a peaceful atmosphere with the woman he loved and let his troubles fade away until he might reach some point of normalcy. The persona Jason Bourne had been waiting impatiently for the call. Filling in the favor meant that it would be over and done with. Jason didn't tire of the underworld of murder and espionage, either. Jason was Bourne's killing side.

"What?" Bourne asked. "Who? Where?"

"The target's name is John Connor. He's a wanted terrorist by the FBI, along with his mother Sarah Connor, a girl his age we can't identify, and another man. There might also be another male teenager involved, considered insane and…primal. The FBI last pinpointed him living somewhere in the Californian area, around this subdivision," Landy explained, giving him the coordinates. "Do not underestimate any of them. They've outran the FBI for a long time."

"How does the FBI want them?" Bourne asked. This was important for him to know.

"Dead or alive; the choice is up to you when you catch them," Landy answered; she had no doubt in his skill. Dead then, he decided. Both personas knew it would be easier to deal with, and after his recent years dealing with corrupt figures, terrorists didn't stand high in his ranking. "There's a representative for the FBI, waiting at their headquarters nearby to brief you…will Nicky be coming?"

Bourne didn't answer at first. Both personas would rather leave Nicky to keep her out of harm's way, but both also knew that she had a will of her own. Neither wanted to leave her, either. He lowered the phone and faced her, shuffling a foot. His posture was reluctant, asking. Nicky's response was unhesitant as she moved to answer. Bourne lifted the phone back to his mouth. "Yes," he answered.

"I'll let them know. There are no back plots, no corruption, no mafia vengeances; it's clear and cut. Catch a cell of terrorists. It's even morally correct," Landy assured. Bourne wasn't so certain. Things had a way of complicating. It was Murphy's Law; what can go wrong will go wrong. He hung up and faced Nicky.

"Time to pay the mortgage?" Nicky asked. Bourne gave a slight nod of the head. Nicky nodded, and turned to pack what she needed. Bourne followed her to grab some of his things. They packed in silence, Bourne's case filled more with weaponry than clothes. Nicky had a few handguns herself. But her posture was quiet, saddened, tired. He put a hand on her to reassure her.

"This is it," he promised her. "No more missions or past ghosts after this."

Nicky gave him a rare, prized smile. "I know," she replied. "I might miss it." The last part was a joke and serious at the same time; she was capable of putting so much emotion and meaning into her expressions. It was one of the things Bourne loved about her. He closed up his suitcase and headed to pick out a passport. Even though he would be travelling by car, Bourne didn't want his identity to notify people of where he was; he wanted to disappear. He had a large reputation in Washington. If Paz was right, the entire Bourne incident was a case study for new CIA officials.

He went down the list of names and selected one he hadn't used in a long time, and then selected a matching one for Nicky. They stayed only a moment longer to eat lunch, make sure the house was wiped down, and then went out to the car. Their two suitcases were thrown in back and Bourne climbed into the driver's seat; Nicky took the passenger's seat. They pulled out of the driveway, got on the highway and headed west towards the coordinates Landy had given him.

An hour after they had gotten on the highway, Bourne told Nicky what he knew. At this point both had handguns by their armrests. Nicky agreed with Bourne; in experience it was always complicated. But she hoped with him that it would be kept simply. Bourne drove through the night, knowing he could finally be done with his past if he completed the goal of killing terrorist and fugitive John Connor.