A/N: So, after going to see the movie agian, I've decided to start this multi chapter story. It's going to be a long one, so bear with me!

Disclaimer: Sadly, none of the characters or events from the Bourne Legacy belong to me.

I know there's a bunch of Aaron/Marta stories on these days, but I assure you this story is going to be one hundred percent original. :)

"I was kinda hoping we were lost,"

Aaron couldn't help but grin when he saw the sparkle in her eyes. Marta was right, why worry? With a twist of his hands, the map in front of him was rolled up and tucked away beneath the table.

"See, we can be uncharted for at least a little while." she said, taking a wary glance over at his bandaged shoulder. Aaron followed her gaze and have her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It doesn't hurt as much as it did yesterday. Honestly, you fuss too much."

Marta rolled her eyes. She hated how he always acted so calm. Did he forget they were being hunted down by anyone who watched the news?

"Well I'm a doctor, remember? If you don't change the bandages out every few hours it could get-"

Before she could finish her sentence, though, Jose, the caption of the luxury ship stomped in loudly behind Aaron. The Outcome agent followed Marta's glance towards the Philippine man who had saved both of their lives.

"Sorry to interrupt, but... We will be stopping for day soon to catch the fish for supper. We eat at seven." Jose stammered clumsily in his broken English. Aaron nodded and gave a quick thanks, while Marta tossed him a warm smile. He then turned back around, his thick boots sounding all the way across the boat.

Once he was out of sight, Marta formed her smile into an squeamish frown.

"What?" Aaron chuckled, her face looking like she had just smelled the inside of a dumpster.

She gave a sigh. "I hate seafood. I can't eat it without getting sick. And fish..." she stopped, knowing that he probably got what she was saying. Aaron grinned, still focusing on her expression. "You should've thought that over before you got on the boat, Dr. Shearing."

Marta produced a mock laugh, still getting used to his interesting sense of humor. "Yes, Aaron, it's just shocking to think of me having an actual life before turning into CIA's most wanted,"

"Really, because before now I've always thought of you as the 'sit at home and watch Dr Phil' type. You know, sitting on the couch with your thirty cats."

"I don't have any cats," she said defensively, "and for your information, I always thought of you as the phycotic guy who ran around the world getting his butt beaten up."

She looked up at him triumphantly, leaning back and folding her arms across her chest, waiting for a response. Aaron just mellowed his gaze. "We prefer the word mentally prominent."

Marta just stared at him.

Finally, she took a breath, standing up and walking towards Aaron. "I try to be nice, but your just- so-"

"Just... So... What, Doc?" he asked with innocent, almost childlike blue eyes.

"So... Angry!" she yelled, her face turning red.

"What're you gonna do about it?"

Instantly, Marta's hands shot forward, impacting on his chest. Aaron's eyes widened in surprise as his chair fell backward, taking him down to the ground. The boat then took a sharp turn to the left, throwing Aaron Cross off the boat.

Marta stumbled forward, able to grab hold of the railing before she fell too. Her mouth was left agape in surprise; she took a look down at her hands, then down towards the crystal blue water.

"Oh my God- Aaron! Are you okay?" she shouted in a panic, seeing he hadn't come up to breathe yet.

Every second she spent staring at the water felt like an eternity. Marta gripped the railing harder and harder, calling his name desperately.

Suddenly, like a striking snake, a hand sprung out of the water, grabbing hold of her ankle. She barely had enough time to look down before he pulled her beneath the silver railing, plunging her into the Pacific Ocean.

Surfacing quickly, she began coughing and gasping, the taste of seawater burning through her mouth. Her eyes cleared, and soon she was staring face to face with Aaron, who was smiling mirthfully as if being thrown in the ocean was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Now that's the Marta Shearing I know." he said simply, still annoyingly joyful. Marta couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Why'd you have to bring me into this?" she coughed, "I'm all wet, and we don't have a change of clothes!"

"Well you chucked me off the boat." he smirked, splashing some water playfully in her direction.

"No, this is your fault."

Aaron looked shocked. "I was just trying to make conversation."

He waited for a reply, but Marta just continued glowering at him.

"Okay, fine. Truce?" he said kindly, stretching out his arm towards her.

She signed hastily, finally looking up at him, still trying to maintain her cross face. But with the look Aaron was giving her, it didn't last very long.

Frown melting into a smile, she shook his hand.

"I think you owe me an apology," he said after a few seconds, trying his best to look sad.

Marta rolled her eyes. "Fine. I am deeply sorry for pushing you off the boat. Can we get back on now?"

Aaron just grinned. "Nope."

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have seen it coming. But her last two weeks have been far from normal; before he could raise his hand to splash her, Marta was already on it. With a quick arm, soon water hit Aaron's surprised face.

The surprise was soon turned into a smile, and he returned the gesture. Before the water hit, Marta let out a scream, and shielded her face with her hands.

"You're such a girl," he scoffed at her response.

"Well you're such a boy." Marta laughed back, "a silly, immature, smelly boy."

Aaron stopped laughing abruptly. "Did you just say I stink?"

She merely raised her eyebrows.

"You're gonna take that back!" he said, grabbing her arms and pulling her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" Marta shrieked, pounding her fists on his back. Aaron held her legs together, jocosefully grinning at a newfound idea.

"Aaron- don't you dare-!"

Bam! Marta's head plowed into the water, silencing her pleas.

"You jerk-!"

Splash!

"Asshole-!"

Wham!

Back on the boat, Jose and his nephew Jack stood watching the two fugitives, both amused. Jose shook his head.

"Americans..."

Then, glancing down at his new watch, he called out, "dinner is ready!" out across the water towards his passengers.

Hearing this, Aaron released Marta from his death grip, dropping her back into the saltwater with a sonorous splash. He began swimming back to boat quickly, before she surfaced. When she did, she followed behind, mumbling words Aaron couldn't quite catch- nor did he want to.

The waves lapped up against the side of the boat as his hands grabbed hold of the iron rod, hoisting himself up. Once he was completely in board, he looked back down at Marta, who appeared quite pitiful with her wet hair coming out of its ponytail, her shirt baggy yet clinging to her skin. Her eyes had gotten red due to the salt, and her mouth was set in a firm, slightly angry line across her face.

Arching one eyebrow, she said, sarcasm bleeding from her voice, "are you going to stand there or help me up?"

Aaron gave a roll of his eyes, reaching a hand downward with a smile. She grabbed hold of it tightly, and he pulled her body up until she was safely aboard the ship. Marta stood up, wringing the water from her shorts.

"See, it wasn't that bad," Aaron beamed, after spitting excess seawater from his mouth. Marta wanted so badly to be ire with him, but she just couldn't. With a slight smile, she turned around and headed to supper.

By the time the two showed up on the port side, the crew was already seated down on the long, makeshift table, stuffing their faces with the rewards of their treacherous work of the day. Aaron and Marta were still completely soaked- Aaron had taken off his shirt, while Marta had absolutely nothing to change into, being the only girl on the whole boat.

"Sorry we're late," Aaron spoke casually, "Marta here insisted on dumping me into the water."

The crew just continued giving them a melodramatic look, so they awkwardly continued to the two empty chairs towards the far side of the table. On the way there, she elbowed him quickly in the ribs. "That's not what happened, number five," she snapped harshly through clenched teeth. He just grinned, only the sound being the water sloshing in his shoes. Marta sat down first, next to a man with tanned skin and a long, twisted cut across his cheek. His hair was long and choppy, and he smelled like a sewer. Turning to face her, the man gave her a fulsome smile.

Marta turned her head around to face her partner, trying to conceal her disgusted look. Aaron playfully nudged her, making her wish she was eating alone in her room more than ever. No, not even that. Marta Shearing wanted off this boat. The salt was beginning to dry hard on her skin, water still dropping from her chin.

Jose then walked up to them, placing two cooked fish on paper plates in front of them. Aaron, of course, beamed brightly and gave him a hearty thank you, while Marta looked up and tried her best to smile. Once he left their sight, Aaron dug into his food, looking more like a feral animal in her eyes. She just simply stared down at the fish, the fish staring right back at her. A slight breeze weaved through her hair, sending a shiver down her spine. The smell of seafood overcame the air around them, making Marta feel nauseous. And miserable.

Then she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to face Aaron, who gestured under the table. Glancing down, she saw that he was holding a granola bar, its packaging faded and wrinkled.

"Take it," he whispered, moving it out towards her. Marta hesitated, looking back into the intensity of his blue eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Aaron gave her a skeptical raise of his forehead, and she gratefully took it.

"Thanks."

The combination of gross, sun melted chocolate and salt encrusted oats never tasted so good in her mouth. By the time she looked back at her plate, the fish was already transferred onto Aaron's plate. She rolled her eyes, and turned her focus to the freshly setting sun in the westward sky. She had always been caught off guard when she saw sunsets, she had been told. The way the colors mixed together in the most perfect way... It always uprooted the most sensitive memories inside of her. Marta hated to be sensitive, but sometimes, she just couldn't help it. The last sunset she could remember was back when the air was crisp and creeping in with cold. She sat on the old oak bench in the front side of their ancient three story house, legs hugging her chest for extra warmth. Peter Boyd drove up in his black Mercedes, tousling the loose leaves as the car lurched to a stop. He walked out, took off his brown hunting jacket, and wrapped it around her bare shoulders. They drank homemade hot cocoa until the effulgent lights were swallowed up by darkness. Peter tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and pulled her closer to his body. Marta's eyes became mesmerized as she dismally harkened back to what he had said to her. The three most simple words, yet she didn't know if she could ever trust them again. I love you. Her ears began to tingle as she recalled the touch of his lips against her skin. He picked her up in his strong arms and took her upstairs, and they made love through the night...

"Marta? Marta!"

She jumped in her seat with a start, realizing that Aaron had been saying her name for quite some time now. Her face reddened slightly, though she was the only one remembering.

"Are you tired?" he asked, eyes glistening against the last few remaining rays of sunlight. Marta nodded, still embarrassed she had spaced out again.

She stood up, following Aaron into their cabin. Jose had been optimistic in letting them share a cabin, since women usually slept in different quarters. But Marta felt safe when she was around him, protected. And after all she'd been through, protection was the only thing that allowed her to sleep soundly at night.

They called it a cabin, though it was only a small shanty located near the back end of the boat, beneath the deck. The way there was tranquil- only distant shouts from Jose's dawning poker game was faintly heard from their position. Aaron stopped once he reached their room, and waited for Marta to catch up before opening the door.

It was simple, with two beds on each opposite wall and a single light bulb hanging loosely from several wires poking from the ceiling. Marta immediately chose the bed farthest from the door. She quickly dashed ahead of Aaron to claim it. Aaron, though, seeing what she was doing, raced in front of her and jumped on the bed- the same exact time she did.

"Get off me!" Marta groaned, crushed by his body.

Aaron looked down at her. "I got here first, you know."

"No really- can't- breathe-" she gasped, clutching her throat for extra emphasis.

"Fine," Aaron laughed, getting up and throwing himself onto the other bed. He shuffled about for a few seconds, finding the light switch. With a sharp click, the room became obscured with darkness.

"Goodnight, Marta." he said drowsily.

She yawned. "Goodnight, Aaron."

Then silence.