A/N: This fanfiction is based on the movies, and not the books, as I am only just reading them now. It takes place shortly after the Bourne Ultimatum.

Chapter One: Unwell

Wham. "Sorry, sorry…." The young blonde apologized after slamming into Bourne. He had seen her coming down 22nd Street – walking hurriedly, and continuously glancing back. She had been glancing back when she walked into him, and was now several feet away. Jason's skilled eyes scanned the crowd – between the double-parked cars, and saw the follower. It was an older man. He was large and his expression was angry as he struggled to keep up with her.

Jason acted quickly – almost on a whim. He stepped out from the side walk onto the street and stopped the man.

"Excuse me…do you know how to get to Ground Zero from here?" He asked, staring the man hard in the face – hoping to distract him from looking around with darting eyes for the girl.

"Uh – Ground Zero?" He asked breathlessly, trying to take small steps around Jason to keep going.

"Yes."

The man mumbled some incorrect directs and hurried on. Jason knew that his object had disappeared.

The sights and sounds of the city were a comfort to him as he walked back to his apartment. The pedestrians – mostly dressed in black, whether it be business attire or hooded sweatshirts, the yellow cabs; beeping and swerving in and out around each other…it was a place that he could burry himself in – familiar, yet hostile all at the same time.

He had been hiding in this noisy urban for about 3 months – and he knew it was time to move again, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. By putting it off, he was putting himself in danger, but New York had somehow become his comfort zone.

His apartment seemed dim and lonely when he flicked the lights on, and he decided to go back out – maybe to the diner. Goodness knows he had eaten out much more than he should've lately; just like a true New Yorker.

The diner down the street was fairly empty for a Tuesday night. The waitresses were grouped in a corner behind the counter, sharing the latest gossip about the affair going on between the cook and dishwasher. Jason settled into a booth – spreading the day's newspaper out in front of him.

One of the waitresses pried herself away from the huddle and took his order – the usual; steak and fries, followed by coffee.

"I'll have that right out for you." The slightly chunky woman told him between chews of gum. As she moved away a head of blonde across the restaurant caught his eye. It was the same girl from before. She was sitting by herself, laptop before her. Her eyes were bloodshot, as though she hadn't slept in days.

Suddenly he blanked out – gripping his head with searing pain….then an image – a hallway, it was the Treadstone headquarters….he was frustrated at someone, they wouldn't do what he told them to…something wasn't going according to plan….And that was it…He looked up again and shook his head as though the flashback were just a brain-freeze that could be gone with a shake of the head.

The girl left before him. She paid with a credit card, and left the signed receipt on the counter. Somehow Bourne knew that she would go to the ladies room before he left. It was almost like deja-vu.He quickly went up to the counter to leave his bill and cash on the counter, and looked at the signature. E. Windham. What was wrong with him? He couldn't justify his obsession with the girl – she was pretty, sure, but not pretty enough for him to start going mad. He tried to push all thoughts about her out of his mind as he walked away.

The hallway in his apartment building was dark when he entered it for the second time that night. Jason groped along the rough concrete wall for the light switch and flicked it on. The florescent lights hummed to life. Something was wrong…he sensed it, though nothing major pointed to it. He slowly and quietly turned his key…click…he was in.

The kitchen looked the same…everything was in place…the living room…bathroom…bedroom….nothing was out of order…no one was there. Was he going paranoid? He was never wrong about these things. Had someone been there? Maybe he just needed sleep. Or someone to talk to….

Instead of rolling into bed, he followed his instinct and opened his lap-top. His heart rate grew gradually faster as he typed in the name on the search site….E. Windham….

The first few matches were guys…and then a girl…a soccer player from Germany…not her…he scrolled down….nothing. Perhaps he really was going crazy after all.