Chapter 10: Voyage

Quietly contemplating a myriad of thoughts and plans, Marta watched as Aaron quickly ate the last of his breakfast. He got up, tossed the trash in the bin and grabbed a change of clothes from their backpack. In two steps he was halfway into the cabin restroom but paused, his hand on the latch. His piercing blue eyes glanced back at her.

Marta was marveling, scientifically, at the efficiency of his motion. Aaron saw in her the doctor he had tried to engage unsuccessfully for years under the program. Her face reflected the change as she became more aware of the man in the subject before her. Her head leaned thoughtfully and looked back at him, her green eyes expectant. It struck him then; that he had finally reached her. She saw him as himself, not the science experiment. He had finally captured her gaze and held it, in both a literal and figurative sense.

Aaron looked as if he was going to say something. Marta waited, but he faltered, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. After an awkward beat, he shook his head and chuckled under his breath as he opened the bathroom door. Marta's expression brightened as she saw his soft laugh and demanded, "What?"

He grinned devilishly and she was sure he would avoid her question. But he said, "I'm taking a very overdue shower then we can figure out our plans for Manila."

"Okay, and...," she prompted.

"Care to join me?"

Marta's mouth opened in surprise. A deep, hot blush crept over her as his words sunk in. She blinked back at his big, penetrating blue eyes, recalling too many times he leveled the same look at her before. It was almost haunting, how he looked at her now; the confrontational, rebellious program participant with the probing, longing, accusing, demanding eyes. His were dangerous blue eyes that she avoided, then.

Professionally, it had been wise to use only reflections in the exam room furnishings to look back at him. She found under his direct gaze she flustered. He saw too much. Though his stare was just as probing and longing as in the past, there were differences. His eyes were no longer accusing and were more searching than demanding. His question still hung in the air as she gaped.

Caught off guard, she finally responded dumbly, "I already took a shower."

"Too bad." Aaron dipped his head and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Marta recovered with a laugh at herself and the interchange, shaking her head of the past images stuck in her mind. Five. He was Aaron Cross. He was Kenneth Kitsom. He was all three and undoubtedly more. She knew him. He was all she had.

Marta slipped out of the room to give him privacy, grabbing her big sunglasses and droopy sun hat. She made her way to the sun deck and sat down in a lawn chair facing the ocean. She took a deep breath of the sea air and sighed, warm in the tropical sun. It was a beautiful and deceptively peaceful day. She wanted to enjoy the calm while she could. Manila would be terrifying and, quite possibly, deadly. But they had hope now, a mission: retrieve the program medication.

Time slipped away until a shadow eclipsed her and Marta startled, only to find a huge, fruity drink concoction thrust at her.

"Whoa, doc, it's just me." Aaron handed her the giant decorated pineapple and settled into the seat next to her with his own. He smiled, lifting the drink. "When in Rome..."

"Here's to blending in." Marta grinned back at him, her eyes squinting against the sun. She lowered the fruit and took a long sip. Glancing toward him again, she suddenly pulled off her sunglasses to get a better look at him. "Aaron, you look completely different!"

He was freshly shaved with a short, professional haircut in a slicked-back style. He looked like a banker or a Wall Street broker on holiday. He was wearing khakis, a polo shirt and brown leather boat shoes. Even his tan had been nearly scrubbed off. Gone was the casual, windblown scruffy surfer look he sported on the fishing trawler.

"I hit the barber and then the men's shop on board. We're lucky this was a pleasure cruiser. It's small, but has a few upscale amenities we should take advantage of. You'll want to check them out before all the tourists start to return in about an hour for departure. We'll stick together, so go with a yuppie look."

"All right." Marta sat up, slipped on her sandals and gathered her things. She stood up and turned to leave. Her hand lowered to brush his shoulder as she walked away. His fingers caught hers, stopping her. He wove his fingers into hers with a squeeze. She returned the pressure and he brought her hand to his lips. Despite being already past him, her arm extended behind her, Marta was careful not to pull it forward until Aaron released her. "Meet you back at the room?"

"Yeah," he replied. "We'll need to stay out of sight the rest of the trip. I'll round up dinner and whatever we can use tomorrow. Then we prepare for Manila."

"I'll get myself ready. See you soon."

Aaron sat back with a pile of newspapers he had taken from the lounge to scour for information on the investigation of Pamela Landy and on the hunt for Jason Bourne.

About an hour and a half later, Marta was newly coiffed and thoroughly waxed, buffed, polished and manicured by the cruise spa staff. She had picked up a linen blazer with matching slacks and paired it with a bright, flowing silk tank and nude leather wedge sandals, charging it to their room. Marta was familiar with this attire and felt a pang of nostalgia. Peter had been a shameless yuppie and always pressured her to keep up appearances with their upper class acquaintances. Aaron would find her adept at putting on airs and acting the part well, if they needed to mix with the gentry. Marta had always felt a fraud at dinner parties-she was no Stepford wife-but could navigate those waters adroitly enough, thanks to Peter's influence.

Aaron had caught a little more sleep while Marta was out. He was in a waking state when she knocked at the cabin door and whispered, "Aaron?", knowing he would hear her with his amplified abilities. He pulled the latch to let her in and she stepped through with a teasing smile.

"See? I'm learning," she said, alluding to the last time she entered the room when he pulled a gun on her.

Aaron groaned, sorry for the reminder, then leaned in to peck her lips. "You look the part," he commented.

"That's the point," she retorted.

"Just right," he stated, though he didn't like it at all. He was too honest with himself to deny she looked far too bourgeois and out of his league. Up until the blue pills he didn't even know what the term 'bourgeois' meant, but she was it.

"What's the plan for Manila?" she asked, settling into a chair.

Aaron got down to the business of laying out a game plan. "Byer will know we've headed back to Manila and will be searching for us sooner than we can get out. We'll need to be a couple of steps ahead of them to keep out of reach. He wouldn't expect us to stay at the Ritz, so to speak. So I was thinking we should stay at the most expensive penthouse suite in the city."

"Hence the country club look," Marta interjected.

"Right," Aaron nodded. "But we'll only be able to risk that for one night. Then we'll need to be on our way out of the country again. That means we need to grab the pills and be back on the run the day after tomorrow night."

Marta nodded, ready for the challenge. "Hopefully the program medication is still kept in the necklace container we had you all wear. I'm counting on it."

Aaron nearly grasped at his chest to assure himself of the chain of pills that were once his lifeline. The relief he felt at knowing he was locked in with his enhancements was unfathomable to anyone but himself.

"I wish I would've thought to search the agent before we escaped!" Marta cursed herself aloud.

"We'll get it," Aaron assured her. "NRAG wouldn't claim the body in the U.S, let alone a foreign country. He'll be a John Doe at the morgue and any possessions he had on him will be there, too. The trick is getting access to personal effects of the deceased."

Marta looked to Aaron with expectancy. "You have a plan to get them from the morgue?"

"I would probably raise suspicion, but I think you can do it without taking the risk of a break-in. I hope you didn't toss your old clothes."

"No," Marta responded. "I can play a hippie back-packer in pigtails if you need me to."

"Good," he said, squeezing her knee. "Let's do this."