*Disclaimer: I own nothing, this is purely for fun and I hope you enjoy it.*

Chapter 1

-Rafz, Switzerland-

She bicycled briskly through the village, weaving past a smattering of pedestrians and exchanging waves with a few people she recognized. The waves bothered him immensely—it meant she had been here long enough to make friends. The muscle in his temple ticked; she's gotten lazy. Jason was disappointed in her. He followed her smoothly in the Mini, downshifting as he cruised down a hill. He'd ditch the car if she continued into the countryside—he was intent on teaching her a lesson about the price of laziness. Enough time had passed that the irony of using a Mini to hunt down a female companion was not lost on him, but the worn down edge of sorrows from the past pissed him off. He channeled it and parked, then followed her on foot.

Nicky heard the car turn off on the lane to the suburb. Her house was close but not too close. She needed room and privacy. Living here was one of many compromises she'd been forced to make over the last eighteen months—not secure enough but better than the housing tract. She cycled into the courtyard and checked the lock and the obvious tells by the door—all clear. Some habits were too important to relinquish. She flipped on lights as she went through the house, then put on the kettle for tea. Biscuits, she thought to herself, and retrieved the box of Bahlsen she had picked up from the shopping bag. She felt rather than heard the sudden movement and whirled around, her Luger out of the bag and in hand. He knocked it out of her hand before she had a chance to sight it and put his hand over her mouth.

"You're dead, Nicky," he whispered in her ear before he let her go and stepped back a pace, but kept his hand on her waist in case she reacted again to his presence.

"Why are you here, Jason?" she asked wearily, ignoring his hand at her waist and turning to get another cup down for tea.

"What the hell are you doing, waving at people in town and ignoring the sound of a car turning off and stopping? And what in the hell are you doing MAKING TEA when you should have been running?" he began to yell now, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. "Jesus Nicky, did you learn nothing from me at all?"

"What do you want Jason?" she yelled back in his face, then deliberately grabbed the kettle of boiling water and shook it with a slosh toward him so he'd hopefully give her some space. "As if I didn't know it was you the second the car turned off! Anyone else would have tried to shoot me as I rode along! Don't give me your shit, Bourne," she warned with a dangerous flash in her stormy eyes.

"We don't have time for tea," he replied, those gorgeous blue eyes focused. "We need to leave. Now."

"Wait, just wait. Who is coming, Bourne?" Nicky pulled her arm away roughly and backed out of the kitchen away from him. "You need to tell me what is going on. Unless someone is coming through that door, in which case I need that Luger," she said, pointing to her gun on the counter next to him.

"If they are, we'll deal with it. But you're going to pack, now. We are gone in five minutes." Jason scanned the living room, noting the pictures on the wall. "God Nicky, how long have you been here?" he said, walking toward a picture on the far wall, half-hidden by a lamp. Nicky brushed past him rudely and pulled his arm.

"You can help me pack," she said when he halted momentarily and looked over at her. She glanced at the clock and added, "That is, if you want to make your deadline. Four minutes left." Jason saw a brief flicker of something in her eyes behind the anger, but her posture was irritated and she gave nothing away.

"I don't think you want me packing your panties." He lifted one eyebrow at her cool shrug.

"No, but you can certainly pack a toothbrush. Come on Bourne," she started walking away, but her gait was hiccupped momentarily for a split second until he smoothly followed her upstairs. What are you doing, Nicky?

She glanced back at him as she took the stairs two at a time. "How's the memory loss?" He looked exactly the same. Whatever had happened to him in New York, his body had healed itself and his self-discipline had kept him fit.

"Still there," he replied grimly. "It's coming back in bits and pieces."

She was throwing clothes into a backpack now. "Toiletries are in the cabinet," she called out, tidying the room while he was in the cubicle that masqueraded as the bathroom.

"This all you want?" he asked, coming out quickly with a toothbrush, shampoo, and deodorant in hand.

"Grab the razor for me, please," she said, zipping up the main compartment of the bag. It was a backpacker's bag, like you'd see any kid carrying in countless hostels all over Europe. It had been a splurge at the time because it was waterproof, but it was well worth it.

Jason reached around her and tucked the items into the front of the pack. "Is that it?" His face turned toward hers and she could feel his breath on her cheek. She looked at him and saw it then. He knew something.

"Nicky?" he said, his eyes clear and open.

"Jason, it's time to go," she said softly. Her face was a mask, giving nothing away.

"Ok," he said slowly, "let's go." They jogged down the stairs and Nicky glanced at the biscuits on the kitchen table.

"Where to?" she asked with forced cheerfulness to her tone, as she looked at the clock again.

"We're going back to the car. But first, I want to see something." He veered off into the living room and Nicky panicked. He was heading for the picture on the wall. Jesus, she thought to herself, and began to speak, but then they both heard it. A car.

"Get down," he ordered her, flicking aside the curtain to size up the car that was trundling down the dirt road in a cloud of dust.

"Jason," she called as he made his way toward the door and got out his gun. "Jason!"

The car lurched to a stop outside the courtyard and a flurry of activity and slamming car door was heard.

"Jason, let me get the door, please Jason, let me get the door," Nicky said urgently, pulling on his arm. He turned to look at her and for the first time he saw the panic in her eyes. This was important to her…he ran through the scenarios. A lover? A husband? Is that why she had been here for so long?

"Jason! Please! Get away from the door!" she was actually pushing him now, which a part of him found amusing. Then she stomped on his instep as footsteps hurried across the courtyard and he let her push him out of the way in the split second of surprise and open the door.

"Mutti! Ratet mal, was ich in der Schule heute gemacht?"

Jason was frozen in place as a little boy barreled through the door and into Nicky's arms. She picked him up in a big hug and stood up. Time slowed down to a nanosecond crawl. Before she turned he met the boy's blue eyed gaze. Midblue, flecked with grey. His. Nicky's eyes were filled with tears when she turned to face him.

Dimly he heard the boy say, "Wer ist der mann, Mutti?"

"Jesus, Nicky." He automatically clicked the safety back on, shoved the gun back into his pocket and strode back into the living room, knocking over the lamp. Nicky. Short, dark hair. Holding a toddler in her arms. A toddler…his mind did the math. Paris.

"Go put your things away sweetie, then we will have some tea and biscuits and I will introduce our guest, okay?" he heard her say and then turned around as she came into the room. She was hugging herself, as if she needed that bit of comfort from another pair of arms.

"Is he mine?" he demanded, walking over and grabbing her. "Is he mine, Nicky?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, he's our son." The tears spilled over, hot and fresh, and Jason let her go, stunned. Then he pulled her into his arms and let her cry a few more tears. He asked quietly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Even as he asked, he knew the answer. Because he was unstable. Because he had lost his memory, he was wanted by the CIA most of the time, and because he was a trained assassin. His mind replayed all of their time together since his amnesia had started. He'd fought their boss and stared straight through her in Paris. He'd kidnapped her and held a gun to her head in Berlin. And she'd watched him kill Desh with his bare hands in Tangier.

"Mutti?"

Nicky pulled herself together and Jason let her go. They both turned toward the door where their son was watching them with curious eyes.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? Jason, let me introduce you to my son, David," she glanced at his face and felt her heart lurch at the wrench of pain and pleasure she saw in his eyes. "David, this is my friend, Jason."

Jason got down on one knee and looked carefully, drinking in the details of his son. Tousled brown hair, pert nose, intelligent eyes surveyed him with curiosity and open friendliness. "Pleased to meet you, David." He held out his hand, which the boy shook once solemnly.

"Are you American?" he asked in perfect English. "We don't have many Americans here, but you sound like the cartoons on TV."

"Ja, ich bin. Welche Art von Karikaturen mögen Sie?"

"I like the Cat in the Hat, and Bob the Builder. Why are you here?" Jason blinked and grinned in spite of the circumstances, but it flashed quickly and was gone as he made eye contact with Nicky.

"David, do you have a backpack that you have ready for a trip? Maybe something your mom has you keep around in case you have to go somewhere in a hurry?"

"Ja, it's in my closet…" David stopped and frowned, "But I want my snack!"

"David, go get your pack quickly, we will have a snack on the way."
He turned to stare accusingly at his mother. "You never let me eat in the car!"
Jason stood up quickly and went back to check the windows. His mind was flipping through scenarios again, this time with more agitation than he'd like. He couldn't quit circling back to that little presence with his eyes and his mom's nose. Shit.

Nicky pushed David up the stairs, saying, "I'll break the rules today, honey. Just go get your pack, you can have snack in the car." She turned around and wordlessly grabbed the sleeve of biscuits and her keys. She made eye contact with Jason again and neither of them said a word.

"Is there anyone else?" Jason asked, relieved when she shook her head.

"Let's go," he said with deadly calm as David came bounding down the stairs. He didn't even ask if there was anyone else who could take their son. If there were, she wouldn't be here with him. This changes everything. There wasn't time to calculate all the new variables. He had to get them safe and then he could work through the factors.

Nicky touched him lightly on the arm as she headed for the back door.

"Where is your car?" Jason knew she had a car, but it was not parked outside.

"I sometimes keep it in the Zenhauserns' barn—my landlords," she explained quickly. "I don't like being predictably at home with the car parked outside…hence the bike."

"Where?" Jason scanned the trees and grabbed her arm. "Wait."

"David! You forgot Floyd," Nicky called quickly, knowing that the favorite stuffy would bring her son to a stop before he darted past them.

"Danke Mutti, Ich werde ihn jetzt holen!" he scampered back inside, but was stopped by Jason's arm.

"Warten Sie, David, deine Mutter wird ihn bei Ihnen melden, okay?" He nodded toward the woods to Nicky, asked quickly, "Where are the other guns, Nicky?" Her eyes met his immediately while David tugged on her hand. "In the gun safe, there. Switzerland," she offered as a one word explanation, then hustled David upstairs.

Jason strode over to the safe and removed the assault rifle and ammunition. Quickly he checked the action of the rifle and chambered a round.

He didn't have long to wait. A group of four field officers broke cover and were moving toward the house. These were not his immediate concern. He scanned the woods again and spotted it—a pair of agents scrambling toward the dip in the meadow. Another one could be sniping from the trees, maybe two. The two looked like a grab team, which was good…it meant they were after Nicky and not him. If they had been watching her, however, they'd know about the boy. Not good. From the numbers they were using, he was betting they had just found her. He'd find out.

T-minus one minute or less. He went into the kitchen and turned on a burner with the large cast iron skillet on it, added a knob of butter. Then he blended into the shadows of the living room to wait. He knew Nicky would be hiding upstairs, maybe checking a window, maybe not. Then he heard the bath turn on. Good girl. He hoped she could keep David quiet, but the noise mask should help both ways.

The door opened and the first two came through. He waited. The butter was sizzling now, and as one agent moved past him he went for him. The semiautomatic handgun hit the floor and his partner rushed in while Jason broke his arm and flipped the first man right toward him. The impact from his body threw his gun arm down to the left where the bullet ricocheted off the floor. Jason shot him once in the wrist, gun problem solved, then deflected the punch he threw with his left and disabled him swiftly with a well-placed kick and punch.

The other two had come in swiftly in the hubbub and Jason moved through the passthrough masquerading as a hallway, their bullets missing their target. The first guy through the kitchen door got burning hot butter in his face along with the frying pan, and he crumpled like a dry leaf. The second agent tried to aim, but Jason was prepared and opened a cabinet door with mirrored pots in his line of fire, then got him with a slightly off-balance six inch paring knife just below his left clavicle and a quick disarming with a nicely balanced Wüsthof. The resulting tussle lasted less than four seconds, and the guy was out cold on the floor.

"Nicky, time to go!" he shouted up the stairs. She came down at lightning speed, David in her arms and the pack on her back. They exchanged a glance over the men dropped around the house, as she did her best to keep David's head tucked down into her shoulder and neck.

"There are more outside. I want you to count to 200, then take the path toward the suburbs out front. There's a team for sure in the meadow and probably two more in the trees. I'm going to take care of that and I'll catch you up. Got it?"

She nodded. Jason touched the boy on his arm, "David, helfen bis 200 zählt, bitte." The boy nodded.

He took off at a loping run, certain the meadow team was circling around after the sound of shots popping off. They were going for the back door and that meant he had to be in the thinning shrubs. He'd deal with the woods next. Sure enough, they broke cover right at the edge of the thinning shrubs, one of them making for the concealing cover closer to the house and the other one covering. He was ready with the rifle, and dropped the second agent without qualm. The first predictably sped up, and Jason was waiting three seconds later with the Wüsthof, which found a home between the sixth and seventh ribs, ensuring the man was very down with a collapsed lung and possibly lacerated liver. Also predictably, the rifle shot to the meadow agent had caused the sniper to move slightly in his position. One in the trees, about a quarter mile out from the house. He went back through the house and out through the courtyard, where Nicky was about to break cover with David.

"Start the car and start driving toward the houses." She nodded and went. He jogged in the opposite direction along the road, making use of the coppice of beech for cover. A shot zinged into the bark behind him, but he was into the forest now and had better cover. Definitely two. He circled far enough behind to catch the second, assessing the landscape to figure out where he would be. The wind picked up and he noticed a stand of brush not moving quite the same as the rest. Bingo. He dropped to his belly and started working in in waves, timing his movements with the increasing tempo of the wind. A few drops of rain meant an autumn storm was blowing in. Whatever conversation had occurred between the snipers, they had obviously not heard from their colleagues, and the second one was trying to make a move. Retrenchment and reconnaissance might be the new goal, but he was damned if they were going to see anything. This was a lucky break, as it meant all Jason had to do was get in line next to him, then get close enough to inject him with the syringe he palmed off the knifed agent. Sniper one down without a fuss. The tree agent was going to require a bit more creativity. He studied the young aspens and decided that Mother Nature knows best. The rain had started in earnest and covered the noise of his quick job with the pocket chain saw on a young tree and the next gust of wind saw the tree sniper confronting multiple limbs of a young tree instead of one Jason Bourne. He fell out and one blow to the head finished it.

Now Jason wanted information. He checked the guy in the meadow—rifle shot through the abdomen, tricky but survivable. The guy had passed out from pain, his radio dangled from his ear. A quick pass through the house verified that none of them were conscious enough to pose a threat, although one guy had required one quick reintroduction to the butt of the Ruger. He tried not to kill field agents, they were just not prepared to deal with an asset. Now he turned his attention to the informant, Mr. Collapsed Lung. He was gasping for breath and was probably certain he was going to die, the comm link at his throat as worthless to him as the phone in the house.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to shake your head yes or no. You're going to do that for me or I'm going to send this hollow point right through your heart. Are we clear?" The man nodded his head, and Jason continued. "Now, I know you know who I am, but I'm betting you weren't expecting to see me here, were you?" He shook his head, then gasped at the pain this caused in his lung.

"I'll try to make them 'yes' questions…I know that's got to hurt. Are you from the agency?" Nodding.

"Were you sent to capture Nicky Parsons?" Nod again.

"Was she your only objective?" Nod, but a slight hesitation.

"You're lying." Jason fired the Ruger into the man's knee. "I'm going to ask again. Was she the agency's only objective?" The guy tried to roll to his side reflexively from the shot, but Jason didn't let him. Head shake.

"Who else are you after?" Jason's eyes were grey and calm and his body language was under complete control, but his insides roiled waiting for an answer.

"Marta…Shearing…flagged…Belgium."

"Marta Shearing?" Nod. The guy's eyes swam and Jason knew he was about to black out.

"Thank you." He walked away without looking back.