Disclaimer: I do not own The Bourne trilogy, movies or books.
A/N: Okay, I've deleted the other chapters past this so this will all flow correctly. I have no idea when I'll get the next chapter edited. I'm terribly sorry for the wait! Thing's have been busy. I'd always appreciate reviews!
Chapter 2 -- Old Tactics
"Bourne has a what?" Pamela Landy breathed, eyes staring in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me." How was this even possible? Marie died. That was the end of the story. She had no children... Right?
"A daughter, ma'am. Her name, according to this, is Rachael Marie Bourne."
"Where did you learn this? Are you sure this is legitimate information, Matthew?" Standing behind her lacquered desk, the CIA director frowned upon the thin folder. Now they find this out. Now, of all times.
"Well, yes, but—" Matthew Hanckok's sentence cut off by a simple, hollow knock on the door.
A pleasant, peach countenance with almost squinting blue eyes and nervous smile peered from the door, an amber head of hair pulled loosely back into chopsticks. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything. Oh, hi, Matthew..." Theresa Carmen, clad in her everyday work clothes of black slacks, jacket and her CIA ID that swung tightly on its collar, provided a polite nod of her head before swerving directly to the point, "Pam? May I speak to you in private? I just learned something very important that you might want to hear, about Bourne."
Pamela Landy paused for a mere second before nodding to Hanckok, gesturing for him to leave. "Come back in twenty minutes. And work up any more facts by that time if possible."
Hanckok reluctantly departed from the scene, leaving his research on Pamela's desk.
Hesitantly, Theresa paced towards her boss' desk, clenching a manila folder in her hand as if she was protecting it with her life. With Pamela's silent permission, she sat down in the leather chair, which stood on the other side of the desk. However, Theresa's frantic nerves made it difficult to stay still.
"Yes, Theresa?" Pamela asked, now settled in her own chair. Picking through Hanckok's research folder, she barely laid eyes on her employee. She sighed and placed the folder to the side of papers. Finally, the CIA instructor looked up. "What is it?" Then she briskly added, "Be quick, please, I don't have much time."
Tessy sat down in the chair that set in front of Pamela Landy's desk. "You know how we've been assigned to find out anything on Bourne?
"Of course..."
"You know how I never knew my parents, right?
Pamela stared in confusion. "Right..."
"Well, look at this," Theresa told as she leaned over, releasing the manila folder and handing it carefully to Pamela.
Lightly picking it up, Pamela stared at it, confused, as she flipped it open. A newspaper clipping, a matte finished baby studio picture, some zoomed in pictures of—him. Yes, that was Bourne: the same look, the same hatred in his eyes. But this was not recent, it was when the CIA worker was still head over the Moscow plant. She glanced to the other images—she did not want to see those eyes. "What is this?" she briskly asked.
"Yesterday... a man came, to my house. He tried to bribe me, saying he had information to Bourne, but he wanted to hire me to find somebody of his."
"Did you?"
Theresa frowned, "No. It was tempting, but no."
Emitting a sigh of relief, Pamela nodded for continuation. Yes, that was the rule. No answering to bribers—you could never be in for good. Theresa knew all that.
"Anyway," the CIA agent breathed in deeply and slowly released the breath. Clearing her throat she continued her story, "That night, I was researching Bourne, as usual. I found... I found this." She pointed to the newspaper clipping. "The jeep, that fell in the river in Goa. As it goes, it says that the man, Bourne, possibly had a daughter. Rachael Marie. See anything similar?" Theresa searched for clues on Pamela's face as her boss noted the two pictures she had pointed out: one of Theresa, as a baby, the other of Rachael, from the newspaper. Striking similarities, indeed.
"C-Carlota always said she used to live in Goa," murmured Theresa.
"So you think you're a secret descendant of Bourne?" Pamela frowned, not certain if she was to be pleased or irritated. This was the last thing she needed on her plate.
"I... I don't know, Pam. It's such a crazy supposition. I'm related to the man we're trying to track down, yeah, that's a little crazy. But it's not impossible! I think." Theresa's eyes gazed at the desk; everything a slight blur. No, she did not know. It was a dangerous hope. "Oh, and about the man, earlier that day. He said he knew you. Even Romeo and Juliet..."
This grabbed Pamela's utter attention. "Romeo and Juliet? I've only told you about it. How could he know? What did he look like? Are you sure...?"
"Now that I think of it..." Theresa's eyebrows knitted, her mouth slowly began gaping. "He looked like an older version of...
"Bourne. That was Bourne."
-:-:-:-:-
Cold eyes glared in disgust. They always did when he looked as his hired assassin. "Why are you even back here?" he growled. "You still don't have it done. Will it ever get done? Or should I do it myself, and add you to my list?" The small lips curled on his strong-jawed face. "You've wasted every opportunity. Why? You're no use!"
His assassin frowned. His position as "no use" meant the same as expendable, and he didn't like the taste of that feeling. Why did he stay? He had killed every one else off on his boss' list. But not them.
-:-:-:-:-
'Too quiet.' Jason Bourne thought. 'Way too quiet.' Rachael was too quiet, that's what worried him. Quickly he got up from the bed. Hesitantly he grabbed his gun and silencer from his slipper. While trying not to disturb Marie, who was sleeping nearby him, he stealthily paced to the baby's cradle, which was several rooms down. No, nothing was wrong with the baby girl. Still something was not right. He turned around sharply. A figure stiffened in the nightlight. Jason found it hard to see the intruder's face, though he was able to make out a gun with a silencer in its hand. Then Rachael wailed.
"Who are you? I told you to stay away from us!" Bourne hissed between his gritted teeth, pointing his own weapon at the villain.
The intruder dared not reply. Its eyes narrowed, Jason could tell.
"I swear if you hurt my family, you'll wish you hadn't." The black clad intruder crashed one of the lamps in the room, then during the commotion escaped through the window, leaving with no trace… Then, Marie's voice. He could see her, coming from the bedroom. "Jason?" she murmured. Suddenly her gentle voice became excited. "David! It's time to wake up!"
"David, time to wake up. David, time to wake up. David—"
"Stupid alarm." David hissed, turning over on his side and slamming off his personalized alarm clock. Unconsciously he gazed at the ceiling of his small apartment as he wiped his forehead. Four am: time to start his miserable day. Remembering yesterday's failure, he grumbled under his breath and relieved a heavy sigh. Were his hopes hopeless? Now he may have the CIA on his back. Maybe hacking into their computer system wasn't the smartest idea after all... Stupid Bourne. Yes, it was all Bourne's fault. Stop it, Webb. It will still work if you would stop doubting yourself, his consciousness rebuked.
Then come up with a new way, he thought, eyes studied on the floor as he pushed himself to get up. He walked over to his bathroom; he stared in the mirror. There had to be a way to make her believe. A way to figure out... It finally hit him.
Back to old tactics.
Sorry, you guys, for making you all wait so long for a new edited chapter. I've been terrible busy! Please review – Ancient Egyptian Dreams
