There's a thousand words that I could say

To make you come home

Seems so long ago you walked away

And left me alone

And I remember what you said to me

You were acting so strange

Maybe I was too blind to see that you needed a change

Was it something I said to make you turn away,

To make you walk out and leave me cold

If I could just find a way

To make it so that you were right here, right now – Gone, N'Sync

GONE

10 September 2002

Nicky paced up, down and around her studio, she kept cracking knuckles and taking deep breaths in a bid to stop the galloping hollow organ in her chest from sending her into cardiac arrest. Wombosi was still alive, Jason had not returned from Marseille and he had not contacted her or Conklin in Langley. She was getting ready to get in her car and speed down to Marseille herself. Two things stopped her; one it was against protocol and two what if she got there and blew his cover, or put him in some kind of jeopardy?

She cracked her thumb knuckle and yowled in pain as the joint gave in reluctantly. Waving her hand frantically in the air, Nicky turned to the television, channel-surfing until she was on the Cartoon Network. Looney Tunes was on. She sat on her bed and tried to distract herself with the animated pictures, five minutes later, Bugs Bunny's loud voice prompted Nicky to hurl her pillow at the screen in annoyance. How the Hell could Jason stand cartoons? Reaching for her remote control she turned off the television and jumped off the bed. Pulling on some sneakers, a hooded sweat-shirt and a jean jacket, Nicky picked up her Sig and tucked into the special holster Jason had bought her after he had seen Conklin's gift. Strapping on the holster underneath all her layers of clothing, Nicky pulled up the hood on her sweatshirt, picked up her house and safe-house keys, stuffed some cash in her pockets then left the apartment with a sturdy bang of her door.

-------xx--------

That night, Nicky could not sleep, all she could see was Jason coming in through her window the night before he left on the mission, his heart in his eyes begging her not to push him away. Facing her window she stared at the blinds willing them to move and reveal an exhausted but otherwise unharmed Jason climbing into her apartment. She fell asleep waiting.

17 September 2002

The song was refusing to come out right, the emotion that Chopin's 'Nocturne in G minor' was supposed to evoke were nostalgic sadness, but as she played the song for the umpteenth time it still came out flat.

Just this morning, Conklin had instructed Nicky to send a clean up crew to the hotel Jason had been staying at while he posed as John Michael Kane. When Nicky had spoken to Danny Zorn he had explained that Conklin wanted them to presume Jason was dead because he had been gone for too long. It had been all Nicky could do to keep it together and not scream at them for giving up so easily. When she had done her part, Nicky had run home, seeking solace in being surrounded by things that all held positive memories of Jason. Remembering the day they had played 'Fur Elise' together Nicky had sat down at the piano and just started playing different songs, finally settling on 'Nocturne'.

She sighed in frustration and blew her hair out of her eyes, flexing her feet on the pedals she decided to play Mozart's '7th Symphony' then come back to Chopin. Nicky cracked her knuckles comically over the keys then launched into the music. She did not need sheet music for what Grandma Margaret called the 'Classic Staples'. She knew them as well as she knew her ABCs.

When she finished playing the song, stray strands of hair flying around her face and her cheeks flushed from the energetic vigor with which she had played the song, she bowed her head to an imaginary maestro. Pushing away from the piano she swiveled on the stool to find the Professor standing by her bathroom door. Nicky froze in shock, she blinked a couple times to make sure that she really was seeing what she was seeing. The figure remained where he was.

The sound of her blood rushing in her ears was deafening as she thought this was going to be a replay of the Castel attack. Where was her gun!? How could she have taken it out of her holster!?

The Professor moved towards her in measured steps, he shrugged apologetically as he took his gloves off and stuffed them in his pocket.

"I apologize for frightening you, but I assure you I mean no harm."

Nicky's eyes were as wide as saucers as she tried to cease her panicked breath from whistling out of her nostrils like a tea kettle that had reached boiling point. These guys were like animals it never did to show fear, or feel it because they could sense it. Even if that fear was so debilitating you felt like you had over-cooked spaghetti noodles for bones.

The Professor stopped a safe distance away from her and gestured at one of her kitchen chairs, visible through the open door.

"May I?"

Nicky found herself nodding despite the fact that her brain was screaming, 'Hell No! Get the fuck out of my house now!'

The Professor strode into her kitchen then lifted one of her chairs, carrying it into the main room. He set it a couple feet away from Nicky, by the piano, turning it to face her. He motioned towards the chair and Nicky inclined her head, granting him permission to sit down. He sat, the hem and a good portion of the bottom half of his overcoat, sweeping the shiny floorboards.

"I must say I was and am very impressed by the way you play the piano and I was wondering if it was not too much trouble you could play 'Nocturne in G minor' again, I think I could help you with the tricky bit."

Nicky blinked like a deer caught in headlights, there was no way on God's green earth that this conversation was actually happening was there? This man who was one of Treadstone's top five assassins, was not actually offering to help her with her piano playing technique was he? Who would believe that this had really just happened? Well then again, it was too bizarre not to be true. The Professor cleared his throat and Nicky realized how rude she was being just gawping at the man like a simpleton.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I just… I didn't expect to find you standing in my apartment like that, and I really didn't expect to hear you say… what you said. Forgive my total manners relapse, may I offer you some tea?" Nicky was babbling as she jumped up from her seat and dithered to the kitchen, the last bit of her sentence was thrown over her shoulder.

The Professor's lips twisted in an ironic smirk and he turned in his seat so he could watch her as she put water in the electric kettle and set it on its base. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a baby pink cashmere sweater, her thick blonde hair plaited in a loose French braid and her bare feet peeking from under the hem of her jeans, the toes painted a bright red. The Professor understood exactly what it was about her that attracted men of a predatory nature. Especially when she presented such a cool, collected exterior when acting in her capacity as handler, any man great or small given a glimpse of the undoubtedly molten interior that simmered below, as evidenced by the way she played the piano, would be hard-pressed not to be tempted. Plus she was very, very young playing a grown and experienced man game.

Opening a cupboard, Nicky took down some tea bags then put them on a plate, arranging them in a semi-circular fan pattern. Then she opened another cupboard and pulled out a box of Terry's Jaffa Cakes she had bought at the grocery store in Brittany when she was convalescing after the Castel attack.

Now why had she thought of that? Just when she had been regaining her composure she had to go and freak herself out like that. The water had boiled and Nicky thought darkly about how she could probably pour boiling water on the Professor and get to her gun before he could hurt her.

Unplugging the kettle, Nicky turned in the Professor's direction but he was standing right behind her. She screamed in fright and pushing her away, he grabbed the kettle from her before she scalded them both. The splash of boiling hot water landed harmlessly on the floor. Nicky's eyes widened in nervous distrust as the Professor walked over to the kitchen table and set it down on the surface.

"So many different teas to choose from," he remarked thoughtfully.

Nicky gave herself a mental headshake and approached the table warily.

"I didn't know if you would prefer Earl Grey or English Breakfast then I realised I had some Oolong, Chamomile and Green Tea as well. Thought you would prefer to choose for yourself."

The Professor nodded, settling on the Earl Grey, he turned to her inquisitively.

"What about you?"

"English Breakfast please," Nicky hated the way her voice came out so meekly.

The Professor nodded in approval and handed her the teabag. She ripped open the packaging and dropped the bag in her empty mug. Wrapping the string around the handle, she went to her cutlery drawer, producing two spoons she turned back to the kitchen table. She handed the Professor one spoon and used the other to put three sugars in her mug before giving the waiting English man permission to pour hot water over the tea-bag. Holding her hand up when it was 2/3 full, Nicky pivoted and opened the fridge, she set the carton of milk on the table, then kicked the fridge door shut gently with her left foot.

The Professor had spooned two sugars into his cup, poured the hot water in, and then placed the teabag last. Nicky in the meantime splashed a healthy amount of milk in her tea then stirred it silently, like her mother had taught her. When they were both done stirring their tea they set their spoons down on the plate with the unopened teabags. Nicky picked up the box of Jaffa Cakes and looked at the Professor questioningly. He nodded with a genuine smile on his face, accepting the box from her. Nicky was stunned, three years as his handler and this was the second time she had ever seen him smile. It transformed his face.

Silently they moved back to the main room, Nicky, her back to the piano placed a newspaper on the stool then sat down, placing her mug next to her. The Professor sat in the chair, setting his mug on the floor, he tore into the box of Jaffa Cakes, looking like he must have when he was a little boy as he savored the tangy flavor of the biscuits.

Nicky silently watched him, wondering when was the last time the man had had some genuine human contact with anyone other than his students? It struck her again how important Jason's interaction with her had been for his peace of mind. She thought of how she had basically told him to stay away from her and winced internally. She had also told him he was going to die and now he had been missing for a week. The horrific images of Jason injured or dead somewhere under the sea which had been assaulting Nicky with their ever-increasing frequency as the days had stretched into a week, flashed through her mind. She shut her eyes then opened them again to find the Professor watching her. He had drained his mug of its contents and rose to remove his over-coat, which he hung on the hook behind her door. Turning back to her he resumed his seat. He was always so well-mannered and always spoke eloquently. Nicky mentally reviewed his file, the man had been educated at Eton, graduated from Oxbridge, had served in the British military, MI5 and SAS before being recruited by Treadstone. Although he was well-educated he came from a poor family in the East End of London and his entire educational history had been funded by scholarships.

Nicky picked up her mug and took a big sip of tea, it was too cool for her liking now; she made a face. The Professor bit back a smile.

"It's your flat; you don't have to force yourself to drink your own bloody tea."

Nicky swallowed the tepid brew with chagrin, "Good point… thank you."

She rose and took both their mugs to the kitchen, setting them in the sink. She washed her hands then wiped them on a towel. She walked back to the piano and sat down on the bench, hands gracefully poised over the keys.

"You wanted to hear me play Nocturne in G minor, see where I was going wrong, so here we go." Nicky said brightly.

She started to play the song, initially conscious of the Professor's presence and his critical ears attuned to her, then as she progressed, his soft words of encouragement emboldened her and she played the song the way it was supposed to be played.

When the last note rang in the studio, Nicky turned around to face the Professor with excitement. She raised her hands in the air in victory and let out a little shout of joy. The Professor chuckled, surprising both Nicky and himself with the deep and jovial sound.

"Your memory and feel for the music is exceptional, you already know the instrument very well. It's just a matter of attuning your mind, heart and soul together to elicit the perfectly unified sound."

Nicky nodded taking on what he was saying on board.

"And easy on the pedal sometimes, luv, it's not a car now is it?"

Nicky smiled shyly as she blushed at his criticism, she also noticed the Cockney roots were starting to show meaning that he had lowered his guard, something that had never happened before.

"Would you like to play something?" Nicky offered generously.

The Professor raised his hand, shaking his head, "Oh no thanks darlin', came to see you for something else, just got distracted when I heard then saw you play."

Nicky stiffened wondering if he was going to try hurt and kill her now.

"What is it? Is it the headaches? Is something wrong?"

The Professor fixed very serious, very chilling blue eyes on her, why did all of the assets that scared her the most seem to have blue eyes?

"No, it's not the headaches, it's about Bourne."

Nicky kept her face impassive, "Who's Bourne?"

The Professor smiled coldly, "The American asset based here, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, I don't know the man personally," he shrugged.

Nicky's eyes widened, "How do you even know that his name's Bourne?"

The Professor gave her a knowing look.

She mentally shrugged, then leaned forward on the bench, "Do you know something about where he is? Where is he?"

"I don't know where he is exactly but it can't be too far from Hell that's for sure."

Nicky sat back confused now, "I don't follow."

The Professor kept his eyes on hers, "He's missing right?"

Nicky found herself nodding despite all her intentions not to.

"Been about a week… and nobody's seen hide nor hair of him. Probably drowned at the bottom of the bloody ocean cause of you."

Nicky stiffened in outrage, "Me!? What did I do!?"

"You messed with his head, had him so bloody confused with your puppy dog eyes and soft skin it's no fucking surprise the bloke got shot on that yacht!" The Professor yelled at her.

Nicky paled whiter than a sheet, "Excuse me?"

"You think I don't know you've been diddling Conklin's bestest, baddest boy? It's got to be him since he's the only bloody American asset in this part of Europe worth his weight in salt." The Professor sneered.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh I bet you fucking don't, bloody meddlesome bird. The Italian bloke whatshisname, Caster or Castel or whatever, he's been following you around for a good bloody bit too hasn't he? Came here did a number on you, nearly did your daft head in didn't he? If it wasn't for your knight in shining armor, where would you be now, luv?"

"I don't know why you think-"

"Oh give it a rest, don't insult my bloody intelligence or my skills as an asset, been doing this job since you were in your fucking nappies" the Professor got to his feet making Nicky recoil.

He picked his overcoat off the hook then put it on; donning his gloves he looked over at her, still huddled on the piano stool.

"I just came to tell you that if he's dead or if he dies… it's on your head. You should never have messed around with his head, filled it with ideas, with all kinds of things an asset should never think of or want to have. You caused two of your best assets to fight over you and now one's bloody bonkers and the other's M.I. fucking A. Great job handling your assets Miss Nicolette Trouble Parsons!"

The door slammed shut behind the Professor, leaving a shell-shocked Nicky to stare it like it held all the secrets to the meaning of life. Had the Professor just shared a cup of tea with her, listened to her play the piano then accused her of killing Jason? Was Jason dead? Had she killed him? Should she have done more to convince him leaving Treadstone was the best choice for him? Nicky covered her face with her hands and took deep gulping breaths.

Oh God, why did she not feel it then? Why did she not feel like Jason was gone, never to return? Why was she so sure that despite the nightmares and the week's absence, he was alive? Her fear and distress solidified into a burning ball of fire in her chest. Nicky felt sick, and claustrophobic, she had to get out of the apartment, she would go shopping because when Jason got back they were going to spend days on end in bed. They could worry about the technicalities regarding where they stood later. Getting up, Nicky absent-mindedly shut the piano lid, padded into the kitchen and washed the dirty mugs and spoon. Wiping down the kitchen like Jason had taught her until all traces of the Professor were gone. With a relieved sigh, Nicky went to put on some shoes and grabbed her Hermés Birkin bag. She was going to buy some sexy lingerie then maybe call Jacques and Louisa, they were back from their honeymoon and had been bugging her to join them for dinner. If she acted normal, then everything would go back to normal, Jason would come back and he would stalk her and they would train and fight and eventually have sex because that was what they did. The Professor was wrong, she hadn't killed him, he wasn't dead and this was not her fault.

24 September 2002

Nicky's cell phone beeped insistently, piercing through her sleeping pill induced stupor like a fog-light through mist. She groggily looked at the time and noted it was 8 a.m. and if she did not wake up right now she would be late for classes. Also, Conklin had her and all her available sources and informants working around the clock to try and find Jason.

Locating the source of the maddening sound, Nicky flipped her phone open to read the message she had consciously given up on ever reading.

'Your man is in Marseilles, walked off a fishing boat and was going towards the train station.'

The message came from one of Nicky's own sources that she had cultivated and kept off the Treadstone radar. With an incredulous whoop of joy, Nicky vaulted out of the bed, the sheets tangling around her legs and tripping her, she fell to the floor with a thud but did not feel any pain.

Giving another elated shout she ran into her bathroom, running the shower water she started to sing, "You know you make me wanna shout! Kick my heels up and shout! Come on now, don't forget to say you will! Don't forget to say yeah, yeah, yeah!"

------------XX-----------XXX--------

Nicky stared at her computer screen in the safe house and debated when she should tell Conklin that Jason was alive. Now that she knew he was alive and headed for Zurich not Paris, Nicky was confronted with the very legitimate concern that he could get into trouble for having failed the mission. Jason had never failed before. Nobody had. What would Conklin do to him? Would he be sent for reprogramming? What if he had lost it? Finally snapped on that boat and had turned into something rabid like Castel? Or mute and catatonic like Rowan Mayfair in 'The Witching Hour'? Okay so you couldn't be mobile and catatonic at the same time, but the gravity of the possible state of mind he was in, remained the same. What would Conklin do then? Nicky remembered he had once told her that an 'irreparably damaged asset' would be terminated, by another asset of course. She remembered that day clearly because Jason had been in the room and he had not seemed surprised or distressed by this bit of information, nodding in agreement with Conklin's philosophy.

She shuddered and refocused her energy on trying to think of how she could get to Jason first, assess his mental state and warn him before alerting Conklin. She turned the knob on the police scanner to a Zurich frequency, worriedly listening to the traffic and hoping no mention of Jason would be made until she had come up with a strategy.

Hours later, she sat back in her chair and debated whether she should go to her afternoon classes or not, it was already 11a.m. and she had missed her morning double lecture. Just then she heard mention of a man who had attacked city cops in Zurich who spoke English with an American and fluent German that had put two officers in the hospital the night before. The man had just been spotted and the police were mobilizing to capture him as he left a Swiss bank.

Jason!? Why would he have been sleeping on a park bench in the first place? He knew better than that! He had more than enough money not to do that either! Nicky sat up in her seat, leaning forward she practically pressed her ear to the radio system, her heart beating frantically in her chest like a caged bird trying to escape. The police were just reporting back to HQ that Jason had slipped into the American embassy when her phone rang; making Nicky jump half a mile in her seat, she placed a hand to her heart and answered it.

"Parsons, I think I know where to find Bourne, we've got a man in Zurich at his bank, the uh… the Gemeinschaft bank," Danny yelled over the phone.

"I know, I just heard on the scanner and was about to call you… an American guy put two cops in the hospital last night, it could be him."

"What!? Christ, stay on the frequency. Let me confirm it then I'll call you back!" Danny snapped then hung up the phone.

Nicky bit her lip and turned up the scanner volume on the Zurich frequency, beads of fear in the form sweat popped up on her upper lip. She hoped that whatever happened in the American Embassy, he stayed off Treadstone's radar from now on. At least until she could get to him first. The Professor's words came back to Nicky and she felt her organs clench in a combination of fear and pain. Sweet Jesus in Heaven above don't let him be shot… or captured… or hurt!

-------------xxx----------

A half hour later, Nicky had also turned on the transmitter that had her hooked up to the Treadstone radio traffic frequency in Langley. Any messages that were going to be transmitted directly, she would hear them too.

When Danny called her back to tell her that they knew Jason had definitely been to the bank, had torn up the American embassy and escaped, she felt that lacerating pain in her middle rip through her again.

"What's Conklin gonna do?"

"He's activated all the Europe assets, Nicky."

Her heart jumped in her throat, "All of them? Why? I thought he'd bring him in but there's no need to bring in…But it's Bourne, he's-"

"Gonna be dead by sundown if Conklin has anything to say about it… Abbot came to see him, Bourne failed Nicky and he's got to be terminated."

Nicky gasped, "Just like that? We're not going to bring him, find out what happened?"

Danny sighed at her naiveté, "Nicky we're talking about a multi-billion dollar clandestine program and oversight committees, in the face of that Bourne's just canon-fodder. He had a good run and now he's gotta go."

Her heart practically stopped in her chest, "Jesus Christ Danny."

"I know, it's fucked up but that the way it goes, we're all expendable… speaking of which, I gotta go, talk to you later."

He hung up the phone and Nicky sat there staring at the screen. This was a nightmare, how was this even happening?

----xxx---

Nicky received the pictures of Jason and the flaky looking girl giving him a ride, Marie Helena Kreutz. When she saw the woman's face, something in her heart told her the woman was a threat. Not as an assassin but as a contender for Jason's affections. Maybe it was the Treadstone asset-paranoia rubbing off on her but Nicky was pretty sure that if he was traveling with an unknown woman something must be seriously wrong. He worked alone, all of the assets did. There was no way he could be with this woman because he needed her protection. Oh God, what had happened to him over the last two weeks? Had Marie nursed him and was he now suffering from Stockholm Syndrome? Wait, that made no sense, she had been in Zurich not Marseilles… or had she?

Functioning on auto-pilot, Nicky juxtaposed the picture on the Interpol warning sheet. The whole time, she wondered what was going on inside Jason's head. What angle was he playing? Did he realize that Conklin would try and have him killed, was that why he was traveling with the woman, to make it harder to just do it without witnesses?

The information log of all the assets activated to get Jason came up, two names worried her most, the Professor and Frank Castel. Her breath caught in her throat, if Castel got to Jason, he would win after all! With shaking hands Nicky clicked on the information sheet on Marie Kreutz, please let this woman be an assassin of some kind! If she was Nicky would find the link, she had to!

Her phone rang; looking at the caller ID she knew it was Langley again.

"Parsons."

"What else have we got on Bourne and that Marie girl?" Conklin demanded.

"Nothing yet sir, I've mobilized our surveillance guys to monitor his apartment and all the major entry and exit points out of Paris. Their Interpol wanted pictures are with every law enforcement agency in Western Europe and I am monitoring all traffic on the radio."

"Good girl Nicky, your relief is coming in the next five minutes. I want you to go home and get some rest. I have a feeling we won't get much more action now, tomorrow though, I need you there and on point."

Nicky wondered how she was supposed to get any sleep tonight with what she knew but nodded to the empty room, "Yes Sir. Will do."

"Good. Now tomorrow, I need you to speak to our informants on the ground. If anything useful comes up, you high-tail it over to the safe house and get cracking, is that understood?"

Nicky blinked in consternation as she thought the last thing she wanted to be doing was be out talking to informants when she could have a much more controlling and monitoring role in the safe house.

"Nicky?"

"Yes Sir, I understand perfectly."

"Okay, then good-night, get some rest!" Conklin called out over the line before he cut it.

Nicky bit her lip wondering how long nightmares took, this was a waking nightmare and it was starting to take its toll on her confidence. She stared at the screen dumbly wondering why her brain seemed to have stopped working, she could not think of a single thing to do to help Jason.

The safe house door beeped open, turning sharply, Nicky watched as Peter Jackson walked into the room.

"Graveyard shift relief!" The freckled, blonde-haired diminutive man called out.

Nicky rolled her eyes, "Hey Pete, thanks, everything's all organized, you just have to follow scanner traffic and do whatever Langley orders you to do. I'm going home to sleep, Conklin's orders."

Peter smiled at her in sympathy, "Yeah I know he gave me an earful on my way here. Well go then, I have a feeling its going to be a very hectic couple days till they body-bag the sonofabitch."

Nicky frowned, a defensive rage unfurling in her chest, "You think they'll get him?"

Peter smiled at her indulgently, "Nicky, this is Treadstone, they always get their man."

They've never tried to catch Jason Bourne before! Nicky retorted in her head. With an impassive shrug, she rose from her seat and forced herself to smile at Peter as she pulled her coat on, picked up her purse and left the safe house.

-----------xx---------xx-------

That night as she lay in her bed, Nicky thought of two instances where Jason had pulled a stunt on Conklin. The first was in May 2001, he had led Nicky, Danny and Conklin on a wild goose chase, then when they had finally caught up to him, Jason had explained in minute detail all the logistical, tactical and personnel mistakes they had made. Conklin had laughed cynically and told Nicky and Danny that this was exactly why Jason was his bestest and baddest, he could do their jobs too and still be invisible. The second time Jason had tricked them was in October 2001, it was after the attacks and everybody had been extra jumpy and over-worked.

Nicky groaned in pent-up frustration, clutching the sheets in her fists she stared at her bedroom window and wondered if he was in Paris yet, and if he was, would he come to her now? Ask her for her help? Tell her to pack up her things so they could leave? Nicky's heart jumpstarted in anticipation, Oh My God! If Jason was on his way back to Paris, he was coming back to get her, he had to be! This Marie person was just a cover! Sitting up in her bed, Nicky looked around her darkened room with new eyes, she had to pack! She had to be prepared for him to come and get her! Suddenly, everything made sense. Nicky was going to have to do her job just like any other day, and have faith that Jason would take anything Conklin threw at him. He knew better than anyone how the system worked. He killed better than any of the other assets out there. That's why he was the best, and this was why Conklin was throwing everything but the kitchen sink at Jason.

Oh My God, she had been so stupid to think that he wasn't one step ahead of them, all the time! Wrapping her arms around herself Nicky fell back on her bed and sighed happily. Everything was going to be okay, she could feel it. Jason was coming back for her… he had to be. It was the only thing that made sense, and when he did she would be ready.

----------xxx-------TO BE CONTINUED-------xxx---------

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