A one-shot. Alexander Conklin reflects on what he just did when he sent Bourne on his first mission. This is based on the movies, NOT the books.

A note: Although his first name is never used in the movies, the books tell us that his full name is Alexander Conklin. They did an excellent job - I can really see Chris Cooper as the bitter old man, the one-time alcoholic Conklin.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in the movies nor do I intend to profit from this fan-fiction.


Conklin sat back in his seat and heaved a huge sigh. He felt as though he'd just fired a shell on a Navy battleship, and the missile was now making its way straight and true to its target. In a sense, that's exactly what he'd done. He, Alexander Conklin, had fired Jason Bourne in the path of the man who had committed no crime except to get in the way of a CIA asset who wanted to pillage his country's resources for his own benefit.

He thought back to his instructions to Bourne:

"Neski. Vladimir Neski." He'd shown the photo to Bourne. "He's at the Hotel Brecker. Get the papers."

He paused, then continued. "Say it."

He had to make Bourne repeat the mission parameters. To lock and load him, send him off to do the bidding of his superior officer without question or restraint.

Bourne replied, "Neski. Hotel Brecker. Papers."

Conklin's voice grew severe. "This is not a drill, soldier..."

"This is not a drillThisisnotadrilldrilldrilldrill" reverberated through Conklin's mind as he remembered what he'd told Bourne. A part of him, even now, wanted to unsay that, retrieve Bourne, make some excuse as to a sudden change in the mission. But he knew if he did that, he'd cross Abbott, and Abbott would string him up by his balls and then feed him his own spine and do God only knew what other unpleasant things happened to people who crossed Abbott.

Suddenly, Conklin found himself mourning the loss of Jason Bourne's innocence. Yes, in a way, Bourne had lost his years ago when he'd agreed to join Treadstone, but this occasion marked the final dividing line. Before the first real mission, and after. You were two different people. You before killing someone and covering it up, and then you after. You were never quite the same again.

Conklin knew he wound his people up tight. They had to be. But he never knew if one day, he'd hit someone's breaking point and have it snap back on him. And he knew, more than anyone else in Treadstone, just how likely it would be that one of his men or women would kill him. Kill Alexander Conklin in a strange form of justice for his taking away their right to be free of the curse of knowing they'd killed people for the lowest, not the highest, of motives.

God, sometimes he hated this job.