Disclaimer: I do not own The Bourne Legacy. All names, people, places, etc. are the property of their respective owners. This is a work of fiction and is not intended to infringe upon any copyright laws. However, all OCs belong to me.

A/N: I have kept the original plot with a few twists of my own. Altering of certain parts to make the story different is entirely my intention. Please be advised that distributing this anywhere without prior consent from me is not allowed. Enjoy and write reviews!

001

He brandished the tattered picture in front of me, as he hastily kicked the door shut. Dropping the backpack that he had slung over his shoulder onto the grimy floor, he stepped closer.

"Do you know her? Can you tell me where she is?" he demanded, urgently.

My gaze fell on the face of the dark haired woman who smiled innocently back at me and I gasped, recognition clawing at my insides. Images of her faded in and out of my mind bringing back a childhood that I had tried to suppress.

Grief accosted my heart, searing it as if the hurt was still fresh.

Raising my eyes to peer at the man, I suddenly felt raw fear creeping within me. The slow terror began to take hold and quickly turned me cold as I stood frozen in the small room of the noodle shop. His azure eyes stared at me with a searching intensity, looking for an answer that I knew not of. Sweat glistened from his brow, rolling down his pale cheeks from his short, damp hair. Despite the heat, he had on a leather jacket and jeans, dirt apparent on some areas of his clothes making him look like he had just gotten out of bed or had been rolling around on the ground.

"Who is she?" he implored, seeing the familiarity in my scared face. The horror overwhelming me refused to relent, causing my lips to lock, stifling my voice. He repeated his inquiry, this time more pressing. "Who is she? Tell me!"

My silence infuriated him, because he grabbed my shoulders roughly and shook me with impatience. His close proximity to me revealed startling realizations that I had not noticed. His hands were hot as if he was running a high fever and not the result of the heat outside. The ragged gasps that emitted from his parched lips was strained as if he had been running a mile. Even for a foreigner, his skin was pale, but he looked ashen, pallid in color and haggard as if he was ill.

"She's my sister," I finally answered, my voice small and barely audible. A spark ignited in his blue eyes as hope flickered within.

"Where is she?" he questioned, his chest heaving to and fro. My conscious was suddenly on alert, aware of something amiss. This stranger appearing out of nowhere and wanting to see my sister. Trepidation slithered through me, warning me to leave, to escape. His question saddened me and I replied in the same small voice.

"She's dead."

He exhaled, clearly frustrated and let go of my shoulders. That small flame of confidence that a moment ago lit in his face vanished as he closed his eyes.

"Shit," he swore as his body swayed. Without thinking or knowing why, I wrapped my arms around him and tried to support his body. My cheek grazed his face and I was shocked at how hot his skin was. He was definitely sick, very sick. We stumbled unbalanced as I attempted to keep him standing so that he didn't topple over and bring me with him.

"You're very ill," I said. He had clutched onto me to break his fall and as his eyes found mine, he looked at me tiredly.

"I need the chems," he whispered, distractedly. What he said sounded faintly familiar, something my sister had mentioned to me in passing many times.

"Chems? What chems?" I wondered as he reached into his shirt with shaking fingers. Pulling out a long gold chain with a small medallion attached to it, he touched the pendant and it slid open. I realized it wasn't a medallion, but a compact pill case which was empty. My memory at that moment, returned in full force. I recognized those gold pill cases, because Rose had brought some home a few times from her workplace. She had stored some at the house for reasons she did not tell me.

"How did you get this?" I asked in awe. He looked at me with equal amazement.

"From your expression, you know where there's more," he confirmed and with a moan, his legs collapsed. His weight was too much for me to carry and I slid to the floor with him, still holding onto his arms. His weakened state concerned me, but then I vaguely wondered why I would worry about this strange foreigner in the first place. I couldn't answer my own question.

"If I don't get more of those chems, I'm going to die in a few hours," he replied, his voice low. Indecision shadowed my mind, pulling me two separate ways. I had no reason to help this man. For all I knew, he could be a criminal and yet he could die like what he said. Could I stand idly by and do nothing?

My eyes strayed to the picture of Rose still in his hand. Her grinning face beamed up at me, life glowing brightly from her expression.

Life.

That's what she had set out to accomplish. To help life, to help others. To seek out answers that would help the world. That was why she was so adamant on becoming a scientist, because she wanted to create something better. I couldn't mar her memory by refusing help to this man, who so desperately needed it.

"I have to get you to my house. The chems are there," I revealed, softly. With labored breaths, he shook his head.

"It's too dangerous," he insisted.

"Dangerous? It's only a block down," I said and began to tug him onto his feet once more. I didn't understand what he meant by dangerous, but I knew that if I did not get him to those pills fast, he wasn't going to make it. Pulling him to his feet, I wrapped one of his arms around my shoulders. He did not resist, probably because he was too dazed. Seizing his backpack, I flung it over my shoulder and dragged him out of the room.

The noodle shop was my place of employment and as I slowly made my way to the back door, Ray confronted me.

"Your shift isn't over," he informed, sternly.

"My friend is sick. I need to get him home," I replied as my boss eyed the white man with shrewd interest.

"The foreigner who barged into my shop is your friend?" Ray inquired and narrowed his small eyes. Skepticism flashed across his tanned face. "You're working double shifts tomorrow!" Ray barked and before he could change his mind, I staggered out the door as fast as I could.

We made our way through the maze-like streets as best we could. The pace was slow, because I had to stop several times so the foreigner could regain his breathing. He was walking so stiff as if his joints were frozen. The awkward spectacle of the two of us made numerous people stop and peer at us curiously. If I was a bystander, I would agree that an asian woman clutching onto a tall white guy in an asian populated city such as this is truly amusing indeed.

"Almost there," I said to him as he eyed me with half open eyelids. Ignoring his glare, I became increasingly aware of the tingling sensation his touch had on my skin. Warmth escalated from my right hand that grasped his fingers. I told myself it was his fever that caused the heat and tossed out the ridiculous idea of something happening. Whatever that was.

My neighborhood was riddled with tight spaces, lines of air dried garments, small windows abundant with potted herbs, and several children running around playing games. The houses were made from scraps of sheet metal and adorned with bedsheets as window curtains. The doors were abstract panes of cheap wood hooked onto hinges that creaked when opened. This area was the poor district, but it was my home.

After several minutes, we finally arrived at my tiny house. The gray and rusted walls greeted us as I pushed the door in. Heaving him across the small living room, I set him down on my bed. The house was one room only, not leaving much space. He collapsed onto the tiny mattress as I hurriedly ran to the brick hearth. Setting his backpack down, I grabbed a nearby knife resting on my kitchen counter.

With the tips of my fingers, I felt along the mortar between the burgundy bricks, searching for the loose block. Finding it halfway down the old hearth, I pried the brick loose with the knife and pulled the slab out. Reaching with my hand into the deep dark hole, I felt around amidst the broken dust and pulled out a silver box. The case was steel, small, and had no lock but a button on the front side.

Hastily coming over to the foreigner who had been observing me carefully, I sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked at the box in my hands, something fleeting in his eyes and nodded. I pushed the button on the case and the lid whirred open. Four gold pill cases rested comfortably inside on metal racks. The obscurity of the box was a big contrast to the surroundings. The case was the only thing that looked modern and technologically advanced compared to anything around it. It looked out of place.

My fingers extracted one of the pill cases and slid it open. In neat rows, were two sets of different colored pills. I glanced at him, quizzically.

"Blue or green?" I asked.

"Both," he replied and I pulled two out into the palm of my right hand. Setting the rest aside, I leaned over and deposited them into his awaiting mouth. He swallowed them instantly and closed his eyes.

After a moment, he was sound asleep. I sat gazing at him, wondering who he is and what he was doing here. My mind were full of questions, one chasing after another with no answers to stop them from running. I had a sudden urge to shake him awake and bombard him with these confusing thoughts, but as I continued to stare at his sweat drenched face, I realized he looked quite handsome. It was a completely random thought, but one that made me smile. I had come in contact with foreigners before, went to school to learn English, and met a dozen if not more, tourists that flitted in and out of my port city. It was nothing new to me, and yet gawking at this man was entirely different. It felt different.

Getting up, I hurriedly began gathering up a towel and cool water. I needed to get his temperature down before he slips into delirium. Leaving him for a minute, I left and went to pump water from the well outside and returned quickly to find that he had not moved at all. Once again sitting next to him, I dipped the towel in the fresh water and wrung it out. The cool droplets felt good on my skin as I gently patted his forehead with the cloth. He was so hot, it took a matter of a few seconds before I had to dip the towel back into the water.

With trembling fingers, I eased him out of his leather jacket and his shirt. It was a bit difficult, but I managed it without waking him. My eyes widened as I ogled at his muscular chest and arms. The thick muscles were painted with various scars ranging in different sizes. Tearing my gaze from his body, I continued to lather his skin with the cold towel, hoping that I had given him the chems in time.