A/N: I'll be gone through Friday, so there won't be any updates for a few days. Leave me lots of reviews, let me know what you think, like, or don't like. Thanks!

Chapter Four: Interrogation

"In fact…you were my trainer."

Jason's breath caught, but she held a hand up to stop him from interrupting.

"We worked together for about 2 months. But then I stopped."

"You stopped?" He couldn't stop himself this time. Nobody just stops Treadstone. It's kill or be killed. This he knew well.

….

Berlin. 1974

"I'm done. I can't do this anymore." Her face showed all the innocence she had given up to become one of them.

"You're almost done!" Jason's grip was tight- it hurt her arm, his gaze pierced hers.

"Jason, please!" The ache in her chest came again as she stared into his eyes. Those blue eyes had conveyed so much to her. She had fallen for them – fallen hard. Yet she knew that she couldn't have him. Her personal feelings could not be mixed in with this – actually, personal feelings were supposed to nonexistent. How could she fall for someone who had been so hard on her anyway? What she had been through was torture.

But she had seen the other side of him. The part of him that was softer – under the muscle and toughness- he was capable of caring. She had seen it on the street, when she was supposed to be killing the son of a target. The boy was frightened. He had been so frightened…

"Go." Bourne's words had shocked her. "Do you hear me? Go!" He shouted at the little boy, but it got his attention, he snapped out of it and darted off.

"He wasn't there." Jason had lied later. The plan had been fool proof, but they let it go. Its only purpose had been for her to kill anyway.

And then again. The night leading up to her escape. She had been through an incredibly hard day. She was walking back to her quarters and met him in the hall.

"How's it going?" Jason asked. She brought herself to look at his face. She felt so weak and helpless – trapped.

"I…" she looked down again quickly, trying to hide the feelings that were overcoming her. This was her supervisor. Her instructor. He had gained her awe and respect. And now he read her easily, not only is amazing EQ – but the fact that he knew her well.

She had not been sure who was more surprised at the gesture, but Jason had reached out and pulled her close. She was so close to him. His strong arms enwrapped her, but she remained stiff. How long had she wanted just this – to lean against his chest, to have him care for her? And now, she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was too much. Too out of character for him – even if he really did mean the gesture. If she gave in now, and let herself cry on his shoulder, it would only hurt more later.

"And you left?" He asked. He did not know the scene that had just been playing in her mind.

"Yes. You helped me. It went against everything that you had been taught, but you helped me escape, and I've been in hiding ever since."

"So what are you doing here?" He asked the question for the umpteenth time.

"I had to see for myself – that you were still alive. I wanted to know what you were doing now. I couldn't figure it out. Your actions- they don't follow a pattern."

"That's it? You put your neck on the line to check up on me? You're alone?" He didn't believe her – though no lie was written on her face.

"Yes. That's it. I've been running…hiding, for so long now. I couldn't believe that you were no longer working with them. I had to know."

"And look where it got you." He said carelessly – waving a hand to indicate her stabbed body.

"It doesn't matter." She said quietly. "Now I know."

"What? What is it that you know now?" He didn't know why he was being so harsh – he just felt like yelling.

She was silent for a minute, and then, "I know that you're not who they made you anymore. You broke free."

He stopped pacing, and sat on a chair. "You call this free? If what you say is true, and you've been running for all these years, you know this isn't free."

"That's not the kind of freedom I'm talking about. You know that."

She was right. He knew what she meant. It was just a shock to him. Here was someone who knew what he had been like. Was he embarrassed? No. It wasn't his fault. Saving American lives. That's all he had been in it for. He hadn't known.

"Yes. I know." Suddenly it struck him that he hadn't found out what she was called, after all this time.

"What's your name?"

"What?"

"Your name. E. Windham. What's it stand for?"

"Elise."

The name did not trigger any memories for him, but the fact that she knew more about his past actions than he did bothered him.

"Ok, Elise, it would probably be good if we both got some rest." It was six in the morning. He was exhausted – physically and emotionally. The interrogation had definitely been tolling. It was at such times of pressure that he was supposed to try and force himself to remember be things, but he could not. Not tonight.