A/N: Thank you for not stoning me. The gunshots were much better received.

Chapter IV

A Lovely Drive

Bourne first thought that they were dead when Nicky pulled out of the safe house. Not only did she take her time to pull into the alley, she had to drive forward again before going in reverse again. He knew not to expect too much of her. He had been with her when she drove to the ferry in Spain, and she was a good, safe, fast driver. That was nearly the opposite of him; he was a wild, dangerous, fast driver. His instincts naturally said they were doomed because they weren't skyrocketing along at the speed of light and because Nicky couldn't make perfect death-gracing turns. So he did his best to keep quiet until she asked him where to go.

"Head south," he ordered, and loaded his gun. She sped up nicely before slowing down a second to swerve around another car. That was when Bourne thought he was dead a second time. The sirens increased, and the sound of an engine revving behind them caused Bourne to glance behind them. "Police and gunmen."

"What do you want me to do?" Nicky asked.

"Drive around; lose them." Bourne lowered his window enough to stick his arm out. He opened the medical kit and opened a bottle of whiskey. Nicky didn't show any surprise at the alcohol in his medical kit, and her trust was rewarded when Bourne splattered it onto his wound. She wanted to help him but she couldn't out-drive their pursuers with one hand. So she forced her eyes back to the front and tried to go as smoothly as possible. Bourne applied gauze to his wound and put his hand down on it. He stared into the side mirror and stuck his gun arm out the window.

Three thwacks buzzed in Nicky's ears as one of the cars behind them swerved wildly and turned sideways, only to be struck by a car behind it. She had to turn her attention back ahead of her as they passed over a bump, causing Bourne's hand to slip. She had to keep it smooth as possible while outrunning several cars. How hard could it be? She flicked her eyes towards Bourne and wished she hadn't. He was grimacing slightly as he changed the bandage, and she felt sorry for having put them in this predicament. But she was going to get them out of it, wasn't she? She spotted something ahead and moved.

Nicky hit the brakes and turned the car wildly. The car did a 180 and she watched as a police car passed on with inches between them. Then she hit the gas again and turned into an alley. Bourne's face showed no surprise at what she was doing; his face was blank as stone. His posture gave away his confusion, however. Movement in the mirror caught her eye; one of the police cars had followed them in. It was picking up speed. Bourne saw it coming too and started to roll down his window. "Wait," she ordered. How hard could it be; she'd seen Bourne do it before.

The car's brakes squealed and the police car slammed into the back of their car. Nicky felt the seatbelt go taut against her as the force threw her forehead. Knuckles whitened a second before loosening up. She forced the fear back down under her training and hit the gas again. Behind them, the police car wasn't moving so quickly, and one of the figures looked slumped over. Had the impact knocked him unconscious? Then she caught sight of the back of their car, twisted and mangled. French cars probably didn't have the integrity and durability of American cars. She would have to think twice before trying that again.

Two more police cars drifted onto the road behind them as two others came to a stop at the intersection ahead. She tried to think of a way to get through that didn't involve totaling their car any further. However, Bourne already had an answer for her. He stuck his hand out the window and fired twice. One of the police cars behind them was struck in a tire, and spiraled off the street. "Turn left," Bourne ordered. Nicky didn't understand the direction; the two ahead were in their way. "Turn left!" he shouted, and Nicky did so as they reached the cars. Their car drifted and became parallel with the parked vehicles. It slammed into one, striking Bourne's side as their car shouldered an opening between the cars. Nicky took it and left the three cars behind.

The collision couldn't have been nice to Bourne, let alone the car. He was trying to heal and tend to a bullet wound in his leg, while she was running into everything in sight. Nicky wished that they were in a hummer at the moment and not a regular French car. She glanced behind her; two mafia cars and three police cars were on their trail. Nicky thought briefly. She braked and veered left. "Keep speed, Nicky!" Bourne shouted as guns shot at them.

A tinge of anger sparked in her. Nicky pushed her foot harder on the brakes as her face came about to face Bourne's. She was the one driving, and she didn't need him to tell her how to drive. So she shouted back at him, briefly furious and overwhelmed, "Shut up and let me drive!" Nicky's anger vanished just as quickly; she had just shouted at Bourne for the first time, and she already felt bad about yelling at the man she loved, even if he was trying to tell her what to do. Her attention came back to the road. Just as the pursuers began to slow down, Nicky ended her feint and sped back up, tearing around a corner.

Bourne was shocked. In fact, shocked wasn't even the right word for it. He was speechless, an absolute rarity for him just as much as the emotion Nicky had shown. David Webb couldn't come to terms with it; Nicky, Nicky Parsons, Nicky had been angry? He didn't even know Nicky could be angry. Jason Bourne thought back to all the emotions Nicky had shown before: fear, disappointment, terror, sadness, happiness, nervousness, joy; she had shown numerous emotions, often all at once, but never had he seen her angry. The closest she had ever been to anger around him was at Tangier; she had attacked Desh in a burst of fierce protectiveness.

And now she had been angry with him. That put several trains of thought into the two personas. Jason Bourne became reevaluating how much more credit they would have to give Nicky; she had beat several people, dragged his body down an alley, was outdriving police and mafia, and now had shown him anger. She was nowhere near as frail as he had thought— or wished. They weren't letting go of the hope she wouldn't have to be involved in his darker world. David Webb was busy wondering how to smooth over the situation in apologizing, keeping Nicky calm, and not looking like a fool. He was a former super agent, unstoppable and uncatchable. And right now he was being rendered speechless by a beautiful former Logistics officer.

Something told him a sorry right now wouldn't hack it.

Instead, attempting to keep focused and not feel like a tamed kitten, he went to work bandaging himself again. Nicky said nothing but continued her course along the straight road. She felt like she was in a drag race, except the loser wouldn't get to walk away. Ahead, she spotted an alleyway to go through, and she braked hard and swerved to enter it. As soon as she entered it, she regretted it and did her best not to look at Bourne. The alley she had turned into was not an alley, but a stairway leading down. This would be the exact opposite of smooth.

Bourne felt himself jostle up and down and winced with each movement. He hadn't gotten a chance to get the bullet out, and now he felt as though he was rolling along in a hydraulics car with an overeager driver. Was Nicky doing this on purpose, he wondered? Or was it simply poor luck? He glimpsed at her face to get an answer. Her eyes were locked facing straight ahead, at first making him believe that she was still angry. However, further inquiries showed the sympathy she was trying to hide at the moment. At least he knew she wasn't trying to cause him pain.

The car finished down the stairs and jolted back onto a street, where Nicky turned and headed in the direction of a train station. She knew that it was irregular to head straight towards where an escape was, but they had to no time to stroll along with mafia killers nearby and Bourne injured. They would have to take their chances with the train. If worst came to worst, there was a nearby bus stop they could ride west, towards the ocean. But the train option was first. She had to think of a way to ditch the car and throw off pursuers.

"Drive to the gas station," Bourne said. She noticed as she turned that his statement was more of a suggestion than an order like it previously had been. Was it because she'd gotten irritated with him? She wasn't anymore: couldn't he see that or was he too busy at the moment? They had more on their plate than normally, and normally meant stalking a target or spending their time pretending they were normal. Either way, she could correct the mistake once they were safe and the bullet gone from Bourne's leg. She hated to think what type of internal bleeding there might be.

The car came to a halt in the middle of the gas station, currently unvisited by anyone else. It was late at night, and there were plenty of sirens out at the moment. "There are explosives in the back," Bourne explained. Nicky stiffened for half a moment; she had used that part of the car to hit another, and there had been bombs back there? She was surprised he hadn't said anything. Knowing him, they were already armed. "Head for the train station. I'll set them off and distract our pursuers." Their pursuers were currently taking the long way to reach the street they were on.

Nicky's posture changed then, from listening intently to resolution and compassion. "I'll do it. You head as far as you can towards the station, and I'll catch up with you," she offered. She saw what was rising in him: Bourne's incredible amount of chivalry and protectiveness of her. But it was he who needed protecting at the moment; she would have to cut him off before he became completely certain of himself. "I can move faster, and you need to save your energy." Bourne's eyes flickered defiance for a moment, trying to say that he could defy the odds as he had so many times before. But Nicky would not give him any ground, so expressed in her position.

Finally, openly frowning at the thought of putting her in danger, he handed her a cell phone. "This will set them off; it's speed dial 1," he told her. "Be careful." They got out of the car, guns concealed, and Nicky put the cell phone in her pocket. She watched a second as Bourne began to limp down the sidewalk, feeling guilty as though it was her fault. Then she withdrew back within her training and thought about the best way to clear the gas station, so that innocent people would not be hurt. She hid her gun behind her back and loaded it.

Nicky walked into the center of the station as raised her gun into the air, firing two shots. The employees in station shouted in panic and ducked down. "This is a robbery," Nicky said, feeling out of place. She was an analyst, not a field agent. And she was certain that she didn't look intimidating. Bourne a few days ago had remarked with a compliment on her angelic face. "Leave or be shot," she ordered. The employers filed out quickly and soon broke sprinting away from the station. Nicky glanced around. She felt terrible about stealing for some reason, but convinced herself to grab a few protein bars, a lighter, and a bottle of water. She stuck these into her jacket before leaving.

Slightly burdened, she ran off of the gas station's property and was grateful that no employee tried running back inside. She couldn't see any of them to begin with. They were the smart ones; running from danger was always a smart option when you were outnumbered and outgunned. Making her way to the sidewalk, she fingered the cell phone in her pocket which would allow her more power than she was used to. She had a detonator in her hand; Nicky did not remember ever holding more than a handgun, and those felt powerful enough. Ahead, Bourne was limping gallantly along. He had not gotten very far but was still attempting to set a fast pace.

Sirens behind them reached their attention as Nicky caught up to Bourne. He didn't turn, but she did to see how far they were. If she was lucky, then she would be able to catch some of them in the explosion. Bourne wanted to reach for the detonator, to do it himself so that Nicky wouldn't have to. But he didn't think she would surrender it to him, and Jason Bourne was curious as to how far Nicky knew of the darker side of life, so that he knew what to expect. David Webb didn't want to know; he would rather be ignorant and blissful. But ignorance had never served them before, unfortunately.

Nicky dialed the number. She felt the phone vibrate in her hand before the signal came through. Somewhere back there, she was certain that a phone in the back wired to bombs had just beeped. And then the car exploded. The explosion was much more powerful than she had been expecting; it completely lifted the car off the ground, and the nearby fuel stations suddenly blew apart mere milliseconds behind the car. And caught in the blast were several mafia and police cars. Two police cars were flipped into a building. A mafia car was blown up outright. And more were tossed around or flipped by the resulting explosion.

The young woman felt a rush of energy in her. She had never had something so powerful at her fingertips, and she'd just used it to destroy several cars. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time what she had unleashed. Heart beating quicker than normal, she helped Bourne towards the train station before anyone could see them.

*****

The explosion had caught nearly all of his attention. A powerful effect of light, heat, and sound was bound to do that to nearly anybody. The man in the Phantom mask was no exception, skilled as he was. But it hadn't caught all of his attention. He still aimed and fired with the CIA-issued sniper rifle with expertise, killing the driver. He moved quickly now that his position was compromised. Reaching the ground, he headed towards the now crashed car. One of the men, alive but dazed, charged him. The Phantom killer reacted by catching the man by the wrist and slitting his throat with a combat knife. It helped to have a melee weapon, he knew.

He checked around the car to make sure no others were alive. None were, but he emptied a silent round into each for security. As he recalled, it appeared Bourne and Nicky had been unfortunate with that. That brought his total kills tonight up to two cars of mafia men. Part of him wondered why he was doing this again. He touched his arm to remember, and started for his own car. If he was going to guess Bourne's next more, he could do so while traveling himself.