Nicky stumbled on the path outside, but kept going. She wanted to put as much distance between her and Jason right now as she could get. She was heading on foot toward the village they passed through. He had left the keys in the car, but it was too risky. She didn't want to do anything to draw his attention from whatever was capturing his thoughts at the moment. She was running, determined to give herself, give them a chance. This was the great divide he was staring down. He had to choose between the training and his feelings. She would never have pushed it herself, wondered as she ran what exactly had happened in Syria to make him realize it. Maybe she would never know. She hit the paved road and found a comfortable pace she could sustain. It would take twenty minutes to hit the next turn, another thirty to hit the village. Her watch said 6:30. That meant people. She ran faster.

She was tired when she finally reached the outskirts, had to slow down so she could regain her breath and not look like a crazy woman. She had some new blisters on her heels from the boots, which were hardly the ideal running shoe. Nonetheless, they were far better than high heels. It was a small place, but there were people. She wanted something to drink, her throat dry and her nerves raw. She parked herself in clear view of the door in a hole in the wall café, ordered tea and a glass of wine at the waitress' raised eyebrow. She threw in the special of the day, although her stomach rebelled at the thought of food. It didn't matter if she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was back to waiting for Jason's next move.


Jason punched the bag again, flipping past to the next part of the circuit. His movements were automatic and efficient, the complete antithesis of what was running through his mind. He couldn't stop the activity, or his mind would endlessly loop over the same questions again. Why had that extra piece of information bothered him so much? What was it about that black and white picture and what it represented that had churned up everything he felt for Nicky?

The recoil from the next station felt good, released some of the violence that was the Pavlovian response to emotional turmoil. He had given up all pretense of a normal future some time ago. He had signed it away willingly, certain he would be dead before he was forty anyway, he might as well make it count. Yet here he was, little whispers from Nicky gnawing away at him, joined in their Greek chorus by that part of himself the program had done its best to silence forever. She had revived him, permitted him to enjoy his personality again, remember that it wasn't all deserving of consignment to the trash heap of the past. He stopped, breathing hard. For that alone, Nicky was important. A part of him had always known that what Treadstone did to him was fucked up, the way they carved up his psyche and tossed the bits they didn't like, replaced it with their own idea of how he could be more "functional". The problem was, functional wasn't living. With Nicky, he got to live. He stopped and changed direction, headed for the door.


"Nicky." Jason's presence caused her heart to skip a beat. She couldn't have said which it was, fear or relief, that flooded through her. She met his eyes, took the hand he held out to her. A peace offering. Okay. He didn't say anything else, just swept her outside to the car and back to the barn. They were both silent, random thoughts blowing quickly through their minds.

He took her hand again when they were there, finally turning as soon as the door was closed to kiss her hungrily, crowd her body against the stone wall. Nicky responded forcefully, her need just as great. He smelled of sweat and dust, his mouth wet and active on hers, then her neck. She sucked on his earlobe, ran kisses on his jawline before conquering his mouth again. He rucked her skirt up, grabbed her bottom with both hands and lifted her around his hips.

"Nicky, I can't wait," he said in her ear, shredding her panties and pinning her to the wall in one swift move.

"Oh my God…neither can I, Jason," Nicky closed her eyes, her body completely out of control in short order as they tumbled off the edge together.


"How did you find it?"

They were in bed, Jason's hand caressing her hip soothingly as they talked. Nicky's hands couldn't stay still either, tracing freckles on his shoulders, running along his hairline behind his ear. They had both "slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered", as F. Scott Fitzgerald put it, and the open acknowledgement of it was still being treasured.

Nicky met his eyes. "I just remembered that night, walked through the sounds, smells. It was harder when you blindfolded me, but there was enough to go on."

"I'm impressed. I wouldn't think you would have been able to get the right place." Jason was impressed. She had nowhere near the level of training he had received, yet she had been able to pull out and use minute details from one trip to his apartment.

"I was desperate. I knew you would find me if I went anywhere else."

He kissed her, gently now because her lips were swollen from hard use over the past three hours. "Where would you have gone if you couldn't find it?"

"My last refuge was a round robin train trip." Jason growled and turned her onto her back, looked down on her with annoyance.

"I spent the rest of that night on two different trains, Nicolette Parsons. You owe me one sleepless night."

"I thought I was paying now," she said teasingly, her eyelids half-closed.

"Love, you haven't begun to pay me," Jason stated. She laughed, pushed him in the shoulder. "We need to sleep. I have some ungodly number of minutes now to sleep before I have to get back."

Jason looked at her. "Oh no, this is not that easy. You are off tomorrow. You can code it in in the morning. I don't give a damn what is on your schedule, you're not going anywhere."

"You're a demanding boss," she teased. "As co-owner of this enterprise, I demand a clear contract of terms."

Jason slowed in his perusal of her body with his hands. His face was suddenly serious as he looked at her.

"I can't breathe without you anymore, Nicky. I couldn't do anything else other than see you after a job is done." His eyes were troubled; Nicky reached up to caress his face.

"I'm your anchor in the storm, Jason. I don't have to know everything that you go through to be that for you."

Jason's attention was fiercely loving all of a sudden. He worked his way back up to her face with his lips, whispered in her ear, "Thank you for finding David Webb, Nicky."

She met his eyes, said, "You're welcome. And I love you, no matter what name you go by."

He kissed her hard, swollen lips be damned. He was desperate to show her what he couldn't bring himself to say—how much he loved her. "Just don't fall pregnant, Nicky," he murmured later against her skin.

"Oh David." There was a wealth of consolation, shared regret in her voice. Today it was enough for both of them.