Legal disclaimers: I do not own or lay claim to anything created or owned by either Robert Ludlum, the people who created the "Jason Bourne" films or the "Alias" t.v. show, I'm just borrowing characters and ideas from both to write an original story. However, anything original to this story belongs to me, in the form of characters, plots and ideas. The characters Monica Messolina/Talia, Katya "Kate" Aquila/Selene, Mavra Kalia Rasputin/Raven and Cole are all of my creation, so ask if you want to borrow them.

Disclaimers: This story will probably be confusing at the very least for most, but its something I wanted to try. Violence of the level you might see in the Bourne films will be portrayed and spoilers will be given regarding all three of Robert Ludlum's Bourne trilogy and both of the films. A Y stands for a page break, which seems to be the only way I can create one on . The story is set in Season 4 of "Alias", relatively early in the Season but after we get the origin on Nadia Santos. To summarise:

There are two Jason Bourne's, not one. The original is an old man long retired, the new one is the one in the films.

A slightly AU version of an explanation of Sydney Bristow's missing two years will be revealed.

This story totally ignores the events of "The Bourne Legacy" by Eric Van Lustbader. As for why, the original trilogy was a work of genius, the new addition is just a poor cash-in.

I doubt I need to literally spell this out, but this is an Alias/Jason Bourne crossover. It focuses on the Alias team, though, so I'm filing it as an Alias fic.

Finally, Alias Season 4 is set in 2007 if you include Sydney's "Julia Thorne" missing years. That's the timeline for this story.

All Reviews of any kind welcomed.

The Last Day

Prologue...

Berlin, 2007

The old warehouse was built of cold grey stone, heavy metal double doors at either end the height of a tall man and several large windows designed to illuminate the inside while preventing access thanks to double-glazing and reinforced design. Inside, barely illuminated at all by the dull moonlight of a dark summer night, a light hindered further by dusty, filthy windows not cleaned in ten years, a large, broad concrete floor was empty except for scraps of rubbish, the occasional discarded magazine and some worn wooden tables grouped together in the centre of the floor.

In one corner, twenty feet off the floor and only accessible by a metal ladder walkway with loose steps, a small, enclosed office area nestled, walkways extending out from it around the entire warehouse. The office was small and unremarkable, the only structure inside the warehouse of any kind, with small windows covered with metal shutters and a single door-but for one thing: a dim electric light could still be seen shining out from under the half-shut door, a light which illuminated a patch of blood directly beneath where the closed door would sit.

Scattered around the office and the floor area near it were six unmoving bodies, five men and one woman. One of the men, a dark-brown haired and eyed large young man who was visibly carrying a little too much weight, was lying on the ground beneath the office with one leg distinctly crooked beneath him. His head rolled to the left limp and still, a pool of blood slowly forming under his face as it dripped from his battered mouth. Clearly hurt and helpless, the man known as Eric Weiss would unlikely be doing anything at all physical any time soon.

Lying not far from him, so close that they were nearly touching, her posture suggesting that she'd been reaching for him as they fell, was a young woman. In her mid twenties, with jet-black hair in a tight ponytail that fell halfway down her back, soft light brown eyes hidden beneath closed eyelids, swarthy skin that spoke of her Argentinean roots and firm red lips parted in an expression of pain, the strikingly beautiful young woman appeared to be unconscious. Unfortunately, she only wished she was. Her jet-black CIA Tactical gear and uniform hadn't provided her with any real protection at all.

Nadia Santos groaned again, tried to move-but suddenly had to stop as hideous pain shot through her entire body. A sharp hiss escaped through clenched teeth even as she tasted blood in her mouth, then she breathed in sharply as the awful shock of her fall began to drain away. To say that everything merely "hurt" was akin to saying being shot in the head merely "tingled", she felt like she'd been worked over with a sharp sledgehammer and had every limb broken on top of that.

Every muscle in her body was screaming at her in a way that spoke of whole new forms of pain radiating out from the whole of her abused body. No bones were broken, but that was a minor Miracle combined with the luck of the Devil. She felt almost soggy in nature, boneless, as though she had no strength and less will to exercise any self-control at all. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, she was only breathing because it didn't require conscious effort...

If Bourne found her like this he could kill her in a second and there would be nothing she could do about it, at all. Was she actually going to die in this old warehouse during this cold German night, thousands of miles away from home, if she could even call the USA that? More importantly, was she ever going to see Sydney again...? Or, just maybe, her father...?

A sudden commotion sounded from the office above, smashed glass fell apart, an awful clang of flesh on metal that could only have been caused by someone being thrown, very hard, against a heavy immovable object. A brief cry of pain echoed through the stillness before being cut off, just enough to snatch away the last few slight threads of hope Nadia had left to her. Sydney. She knew her Sisters voice as well as that of anyone alive, better than anyone else in fact-bar maybe Jack... That cry could only mean one thing: Sydney was down, their last hope was gone. So just what was going to happen now?

She heard cat-light footsteps descending the staircase, so perfectly placed and silenced she could barely identify them, but the heavier tread gave him away. Sidney had never walked like that, nor had any of the APO team. It took superhuman effort, she almost bit through her lip, but she forced her eyes to open, to focus, to take in the almost invisible killer-Assassin, she bitterly reminded herself-coming down the steps. He'd have to look her in the eyes to kill her...

She caught a moments glimpse of dark-blond hair, grey eyes and a powerful, lean body covered by black fatigues before he shot her a smile and simply left, not even glancing at her again. The shock alone almost killed her, then she finally registered her fathers voice roaring at her over Comms in her ear...

/End of Prologue. I know its short, but you've got to start somewhere. Feedback/ should I go on, anyone?/