Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own "The Bourne Identity/Supremacy"

A/N:

This is post-Supremacy. I recommend you don't read this if you haven't seen The Bourne Supremacy, because you probably won't understand the story. The only thing that I twisted was that supposedly Jason and Marie were married – like in Star Wars Episode 2 (the very end) and of course they had a daughter.

As well, the chapters to come (unless noted otherwise) are unedited, so they won't flow so nicely from this one. I recently began updating my chapters and editing them. Feel free to read, but, as I just said, it may get confusing.

Full Summary:

'Theresa was given away to an elderly lady as an infant, and now 20 years later she is trying to find her parents. One day a man in his 40s came to her home, asking her questions as mysterious as himself…'

David Webb has come back in search of his daughter, Lissie, who he hasn't seen in over 20 years. Happens to be, she works for Pamela Landy, and works side-by-side an assassin, whose boss is after both David and Theresa. Can father and daughter reunite in time before one of them – or both – are gone?

R&R, please!

"We'll need to leave her here, Marie. It's the only thing we can do." While his voice spoke confidence, his heart he felt the same tormenting pain.

"

The plank door naturally slammed behind them to keep out India's miserable humidity, as well as any spying eyes. The young couple walked away down the dirt path, the man holding his dear, troubled wife around the shoulder.

But, Jason..." Marie shifted, glancing uneasily behind her, "what about when she's older…?" Her head hung, trying to use her long dirt blond hair to fight off the fact that brine began to form in her eyelids.

Coming up to the green jeep, Jason unlocked the car door and led Marie in. "It's for Lissie. Remember?"

Wordlessly the woman climbed inside. She gathered her breath and through the open window bored into Jason's far-off eyes. "Right, Jason."

He reluctantly came to the other side of the jeep and opened his door. Hopping up onto the seat, he started the engine. Its idle grumbling consumed the silence for thirty seconds, until Jason finally replied, "I'll get her back, Marie. I swear I will if it's the last thing I do."

He wished he could have forgotten about the dreaded roads of New York City. The taxis' and peoples' noise made his head a party for his intense headaches. Maybe he should have taken that pain reliever with him… David, focus!

David Webb, now in his early forties, had not seen much active life for too long. The new, or old, change of scene had caused him not to even bother to notice that he had been practically holding his breath for the past fifteen minutes. He had to get out—No, David! You're too close!

Coming out of the city square, he followed the directions he had written to a tee. Take one left, now a right… it is that apartment right over there…

Right there. It was right there. He was looking at it. It was real.

Finally, he came to the giant cold apartment complex, searching for the right room number. Finding it, he hesitated to knock. After all, he had not really talked to anybody in years, and he never had a knack for being very social. What if he frightened her, what if he did not said the right thing? What if it wasn't her?

Bourne took a moment to resolve. He felt open to attack as he stood on the sidewalk of the apartment. His only security was in one fact and one fact only—he was currently the only one there. However, his solitary appearance could change to his weakness in her trust.

Still, he had to take the gamble.

Clonk, clonk.

Okay, he did it. He had made the first step. Now to just wait and see. All right, Marie.

-:-:-:-:-

"Tessy, somebody's here to see you, dear. He says he needs to ask you some questions." An elderly woman's voice informed through Teresa Carmen's oak door. "Do you need me to chase him away?" Oh, sweet Carlota. Always looking out for her grown-up daughter.

Theresa Carmen, planted on her worn leather swivel chair, stopped her report and glanced at her digital watch. "Is he another solicitor?"

"I don't think so…" Carlota creaked open her daughter's door. Her short white hair was such a contrast to her young spirit and beauty, but now her wise hazel eyes spoke puzzlement. She may have been fifty-eight, but she still could tell when something was going a little funny. "He seemed really serious about something…"

"Um, well, I'll go and see what it's about." Theresa whipped a few strands of her amber, layered hair out of her face and got up.

As she went pass her mother Carlota chided, "If he asks you to marry him, say no."

The young woman rolled her eyes and laughed at the silly remark as she strode to the door. She peeked through the door hole, noticing on the other side a grim visage with deep green eyes darting quickly from side to side.

Alarm snapped into motion. Theresa involuntarily glanced at the closet, remembering the small handgun she possessed. No, no. she murmured to herself as she grinded her teeth.

Cautiously she creaked open the door, barely peeking her head out from the inside.

Towering a head above her was a well-built man, who had snapped into focus as soon as he heard the handle's click. "Theresa Carmen?" he inquired, his voice strong and straightforward. Nevertheless, there was something in his posture when he mechanically shifted, his blue eyes when he stared at her, which looked into her heart to either break it or mend it. His brown crew cut feathered with both naturally white hair and sprinkles of fresh snow. The black leather long coat that clasped upon him was not much of a surprise, due to the icy time of the season.

"Who are you?" Theresa questioned, deftly noting and memorizing these things, just incase.

The visitor's gloomy eyes dared not to look in Theresa's. Why? Simple. He was scared. Uneasily he answered the normal question, hoping, just hoping, this would go right. "David."

The crisp, silent air awkwardly whispered for nearly thirty seconds before the woman produced another question. "And why are you here?" Theresa's hand was becoming unusually sweaty over the handle, which she was grasping. Her nails had an urge to dig into it; her body found it difficult to relax.

David redirected the conversation, "Do you know Pamela Landy?"

Theresa fell stone silent. "…Who's she?" Eyeing her visitor, she watched for any flinch of deceit that might sweep his face.

"Pamela Landy: sixty-seven, five feet ten. She's been working for the intelligence agency for over twenty years, loves green tea and is also a coffee addict, played in Romeo and Juliet at fifteen, father died when she was ten from heat stroke and hates it when people spell her name with 'ie' instead of 'y'. That's Pamela Landy." His straight face and posture provided for his confidence as he stared at her, waiting for her response.

He was teasing her. He had spun her into a web that she had to spin herself out of, before this became even more uncomfortable. Quickly she fibbed, "Sorry, I don' recollect..."

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't care to know more about Bourne, then."

Her ears cocked and tightened, her eyes suddenly fastening more intensely on David. "What do you know about him?" she inquired, honestly curious. Oddly, her cold surroundings seemed to vanish, her heart pounding uncontrollably in her rib cage.

Good. He got her attention. Now he had something to barter. "A lot you'd want to know about, I'm sure. You should already know him, though, so I suppose I won't bother exhausting your time and my own. I'm sorry I came. I was pretty sure you'd know Pam..." He started his way to leave.

"Wait, wait." Theresa grumbled reluctantly, poking her head out slightly. "There's something you want, isn't there?"

David halted in his step, "You couldn't do what I was going to ask, since you obviously don't know Pam. It would be useless." As he talked he became more confident in his words, and yet he was not sure if they were working.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'm looking for someone, just the same as you."

"You want to hire me...? I don't exactly care to be--"

"Are you sure about that?" David pressured, hoping one more he could change her mind.

Skeptically she stared at him, weighing the odds. This creep wants to hire me to find his daughter... Sure. "Yes, I am. I don't even know you. Sorry." With the cold comment, she shut the door, a frightened sensation ascending her spine. She then peered through the hole to make certain of his whereabouts. He was there, until he shouted inwardly at himself and left.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Pam?" a masculine voice interrupted from behind the CIA agent's door, shaking her out of her heavy concentration.

She looked up, recognizing the tall figure and short black hair as one of her employees. "Yes, what did you find?" she inquired.

"You'll want to have a look at this. You remember Marie? Bourne?"

Pamela Landy's head locked, her heart thumping insanely against her chest. She wished she had not heard a thing. It was of the past, not of her present, or future. Pamela wanted it kept that way, too. Either way, she knew of Monagan's recent order to find anything of more of that man, and she was to help. Sharply she replied, "What about them?"

The agent flipped a manila folder open, which had been tucked underneath his arm, placing it so his boss could observe. "Look here; Bourne has a daughter."

-:-:-:-:-:-

Theresa Carmen was hardly the one to give up, especially for her own parents. Many suspected that the loveable Carlota was most likely her mother, but she knew better. Carlota was close to her like a mother, and she had thought she was for the first twelve years of her life, until the elderly woman had one night finally broke into tears and told her the scary truth. Theresa Carmen was an orphan. Carlota was merely her guardian, and that was simply it.

Ever since she understood that information, Theresa spent the rest of her life dedicated to finding her parents, who ever they were. Now with her job, she had a better expertise how to seek them out.

Therefore, every night she was on it. With her trusty laptop, she sought out the next possible step closer to her birth parents. Tonight, though, she was on an assignment—to find Jason Bourne.

Nearly eleven PM, Theresa's eyes glued themselves to her laptop. Folding her legs on her bed for comfort, she typed until her fingers screamed of soreness and swelling. That was just how it worked. "Goa, India" she inserted into the search bar. 'Anything new?' She thought grimly. Theresa clicked her mouse and typed, her eyes straining at the 17" screen.

Scanning through archives of newspapers, she had found one out of the hundreds that caught her attention. "Car Falls In River." Interested, she read the paragraph below the headline. "Car falls in river—owner of jeep were presumed dead or missing." A picture of the green jeep being craned up from the river was on the right side of the paragraph. Another one of a man caught the girl's attention. Jason Bourne.

Going into more rabbit holes of facts, it explained, "Jason Bourne had a daughter. She would've been two years old the time of the incident. No one has seen her after her first birthday. Possible connection? Or just all-around bad luck for the family?"

'The same time my parents left me.' Theresa thought with sorrow as she read the date. Wait… the picture of the baby... that baby looked familiar.

Curious, Theresa zeroed in on the face. 'That's… me?'

Okay, there it is. I hope you liked it. I would really appreciate C&C, so feel free to review! –Ancient Egyptian Dreams