A/N: Sorry for the long delay. It had more to do with me not knowing where to take this chapter than lack of time (as if). When I accepted my muse wasn't going to cooperate in any possible way, I just decided to move on to more important bits. This was supposed to be chapter 4 instead of 3 but alas.

I have 2 more chapters done, so hopefully updating won't take so much time again.

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He stared at the print out in his hands wondering why the hell this was happening all over again, what else they wanted. The image of Nicky Parsons staring back at him seemed to be making the same question. He was somewhat relieved though, because the photo used on Nicky's wanted frame was the same from her former CIA ID; short brown hair with the blond streaks, an expression of seriousness. They didn't have any images of a black chopped haired Nicky, which meant that hopefully they hadn't found any clues of her yet.

His own though was updated at best. His photo placed right next to Nicky's had been of two weeks ago, as he boarded the tram to Port Elizabeth, the camera recording the comings and goings at the general area of the check in counter.

How had they found him so easily while Nicky was still covered? Had they looked for her at all yet? And why was he so thankful they hadn't gotten to her first? In any case, he had gotten away and he was going to get to Nicky before anyone else did. He just hoped she was being careful and watching out for all the signs he had told her to watch out for. Nicky was smart, he just had to remind himself that she could take care of herself. Besides, the simple fact she was still safely hidden should be a give away of how well she could do it.

Jason rubbed his eyes and folded the print out, putting it inside his pocket; taking out the cell phone he had retrieved from the operative he flipped it open and started scanning through it. It was pretty empty except for a handful of coded text messages; no calls received or made. He had tried dialing the number the messages had come from only be greeted with a dead signal. His only option on this matter was to wait for the phone to ring, but no luck yet.

He figured he had only two options, either wait until the cell phone rang, or to get in touch with the CIA, namely Pamela Landy. The former could never happen and the latter wasn't something he particularly wanted to do, especially not knowing for certain if the CIA was indeed involved in this, which, in this case, the smartest idea was the stay clear of any contact with those people.

Jason pressed his hand to his eyes and sighed. He supposed that finding Nicky was the only viable option at the moment.

He had to find her, and find her fast.

~*~

The nerves along her spine tightened as she felt eyes on her. The moment she left the bookstore, the door closing with the soft ringing of bells, she had felt something was off but couldn't quite figure out what, but as she started making her way home, moving carefully among the crowd she could feel she was being watched and unlike the that faint sense that something was wrong that she had been feeling for the past few days, this sensation that there were eyes on her was strong and intense and it made her antsy.

She had to get lost, that was the first thought to cross her mind as she turned a corner and went the opposite way of her apartment. She needed to get lost and get away, go to the bus station and grab the bag she had stored in a locker with all her passports and fake IDs and money.

Shit, her computer was at her place. Nicky cursed herself for being so goddamn careless to the point of being caught by surprise. She wasn't supposed to stay so long in the same place and now she was going to pay for it if what she was feeling was more than just paranoia. She knew better than to make herself comfortable so soon after she became someone on the run. Blackbriar exposed had done very little to easy her mind and she still had made it easy.

Now she had been found a day before she was leaving town.

Nicky tried to keep her step even, just someone going home from work, enjoying the end of the day as if no life danger was lurking somewhere in the dark. She went past the news stand she often stopped by for a magazine or a newspaper and crossed the street, walking another block until she reached the municipal market and got in. At this time, with people coming out of work, the market was bubbling with life and she'd have a good chance of disappearing.

She realized she was starting to panic when she saw an assassin's face on everyone she looked at, when she recoiled in fear and changed directions every time someone looked at her. Panicking was bad, she tried telling herself, it was going to blind her and make her even more vulnerable.

She tried to control her breathing and the adrenaline as she started bumping into people and bringing attention to herself. She knew by now whoever was following her was obvious to her distress and acknowledge that she was being followed, and again she cursed herself.

Ok, Nicky, calm down. Take a breath. Think.

God, it was another four blocks to her apartment and seventeen to the bus station, each to one direction. She couldn't go back to her place for her laptop then double back to the station and grab her bag.

Nicky turned to the aisle on the left, finding herself in a hubbub of people. She tried to squeeze herself through the crowd instead of going back the other way and possibly getting face to face to her pursuer. Finding the other side of the crowd considerably thinner she quickly made her way to the end of the aisle and turned right. Maybe she could go to the restroom and get out through the window.

She shook her head; the window was too small to get through. Nicky readjusted the strap of her purse that started falling off her shoulder and kept on walking ahead.

The storage room, it suddenly came to her. They had a door on one of the aisles that led down to a room with a garage door for the incoming truck of supplies. She could find it and get out. In her panic, Nicky couldn't remember where she had seen the storage door, so she stopped, getting inside a café, resting against a wall and taking a deep breath. She just needed to calm down a little.

She turned her head, leaning ahead to peek outside and look for anyone that didn't fit. God, everyone seemed to be a danger and to be part of the normal crowd at the same time. Anyone that threw her a glance seemed to be a threat.

She leaned back in and closed her eyes, trying to calm down again and picture the aisle in her head. Slowly it started coming back to her; there was a flower shop to her left and a fruit stand on her right and right next to it there was a door with the Italian warning for authorized personnel only. And then it came to her. Right above there was a brass sign hanging from the ceiling indicating that was corridor C4.

She opened her eyes and let out a breath of relief. Readjusting the straps of her purse again, Nicky leaned her head outside again, looking for the sign indicating where she was: C3.

She sent a silent prayer to God. She just needed to get over the next aisle and get out. She just needed to make it that far. But the moment she stepped outside a hand grabbed her, taking a firm hold of her upper arm in a way she was familiar with, but her breath stopped halfway to her lungs, a scream caught in her throat and her entire body froze in fear.

When a second hand came to her other arm Nicky instinctively started struggling and stopping a second later when her brain finally registered the voice saying her name. As she looked up and saw the face she knew so well her entire being crumbled in relief, a flood of something akin to excitement invading her entire body and she almost – almost- leaned into his arms.

"Come on." He pulled her and she followed silently along, for the first time thankful for the firm grasp he had on her arm.

To her surprise he turned into the aisle she was looking for and went straight to the door she wanted to reach. He pulled her inside, releasing her arm and locking the door. The room was brightly lit, leading the way to a short set of stairs.

Jason turned to her and for several seconds no word was uttered, as they faced each other, neither able to pull their eyes away. Until Nicky couldn't stand the intensity of his blue ones anymore and looked down at her shoes.

She had pictured in her head several situations in which she finally met him again, the things she would say, the reasons he had come, wondering if he had finally remembered everything or anything at all. But now that it had actually happened she was at a loss of words. She liked to think it was because she had so much to say she didn't know where to begin.

"They're coming for you."

She shifted, bringing her eyes up to his face. "I knew they would."

As per his standard, he ignored her. "Do you need anything from your place?"

He moved down the stairs and she started to follow. "My laptop."

He looked at his watch and quickly counted in his head. "Let's go."

She froze in her step. "Is it safe?" And as soon as the words were out she wanted to slap herself. Obviously it was safe or else he wouldn't have suggested going back.

He turned to her, watching how cautious and attent she was. "They haven't found you yet." There was no trace of disdain or condescendence, only a hint of cautiousness.

Despite the fact they were both under a life threatening predicament; she felt herself slipping in a calm passivity, a cocoon of tranquility Jason Bourne managed to create for her, even intentionally. It left her angry with herself. She shouldn't need him like this. Not after all this time.

She tried to shake the thoughts away, and distract herself from them as she followed him down the last few steps. The realization she would be constantly running again didn't seem to bother her much this time because now she'd have someone to run with. The only other person in the world who understood the life she was leading.