I barely remember Bourne Identity and Bourne Supremacy because I don't own either DVD or seen them in years. However I've recently seen the 3rd installment so I sort of know what I am writing about. Let's face it, I'm pretty sure we all went 'did I hear that right?' when Nicky said the now famous line of "it was difficult for me… with you." I know I did hence this fanfic.


5 months after New York

Nicky lay completely motionless in her single bed as her chest continued to contrict with pure, untamed terror. Only seconds earlier which now seemed more like hours, she heard something move in her small, dingy apartment but her limbs refused to move. Her eyes were frightfully wide as her ears strained for any more sounds. Primal instincts were screaming at her to run far and fast but she couldn't. Finally after a few minutes of sheer silence Nicky Parsons slowly turned to face what she feared would be her swift death.

However her eyes saw nothing.

The woman took this opportunity to grab the gun she always kept hidden in her top most drawer next to her bed. It hadn't been as easy to get as she had thought. Predictable yes, but she didn't feel the need to play mind games with a would be assassin. Besides she would barely stand a chance against one even with her gun so what did it matter if he knew where she kept her weapon.

Slowly and as quietly as she could, she lifted herself off of the bed, her bare feet making smooth contact with the wooden floor. Nicky crept towards where the sound had originated, holding her breath and even praying a little to a deity she didn't believe in that nothing would be there.

"Meow."

Right in the middle of her tiny kitchen stood a cat which Nicky recognized as that of her elderly neighbor's. She almost laughed with relief. Gently, Nicky picked up the fat cat that just purred and placed the gun on the counter. Idly she wondered how he had gotten into her place but an open window was her immediate answer. The young woman knew it wasn't a good idea to leave her windows unlocked but the Spanish heat was sometimes too much to bear since she couldn't afford air conditioning now.

She made her way back towards her bed, her fluffy companion still purring away. Placing him gently on the corner of the bed, Nicky sat there with him. How odd, she thought. She couldn't remember the last time she had touched another living thing. It must have been months ago.

Even now, she went to work, did her poorly paid job, maybe out for coffee or food once a week, but always on her own. Truthfully she didn't mind. What did bother her was the feeling of having to watch over her shoulder and constantly wonder if today was the day they found her. Nicky didn't know if the CIA had forgotten about her helping Bourne but she wasn't going to take the chance when the consequence could cost her her life. She wondered when things would start getting easier.

Then there was Bourne.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was alive. He was just that good at surviving. She just regretted one thing with him and of all things it wasn't risking her career and life to help him. No, it was much sillier than that. Nicky wondered whether she had said too much in that café. In those few words she had spoken to him, she had opened a whole new can of worms. What had she been thinking?

Sighing, Nicky focused her eyes on the world outside her window. Bourne was out there in the vast world somewhere, and she doubted he was as preoccupied with her as she was with him. After all, he didn't remember. And if he did regain his memories, would he even care?


Worth your time? Tell me if yes!