They'd been in Paris for nearly two weeks when she asked the question she'd been holding since they arrived. "How long—" She choked on the words. "After Paris...?" She didn't want to assume they'd stay together but the thought of running again on her own scared her.

He looked at her as though she should have known. "Soon."

She nodded and looked around. This wasn't her home but she'd been safe here. She caught herself in a mirror as she looked around. Nicky softly took a lock of hair and wrapped it around her finger, trying to decide what color to go with. She figured she had a day or two to decide. A flash of sitting in a chair in a salon ran past her eyes and she took comfort in the memory of having someone actually do her hair. She smiled absently. Jason caught her in the mirror and knew what she was thinking. Their eyes met in the reflection and he smiled at her.

They both hid the shiver they felt as their smiles met.

-X-

They sat at the table again.

He'd ask questions and she'd answer, trying hard to give details and yet leave blanks for him to fill in on his own. Their sessions ended the same way each time. He'd look down or away, anywhere, to not meet her eyes, and nod. "Thanks."

And then he'd go out; to where she never knew, she never followed and she never asked. He needed time to put the pieces in order and then to make sense of them. He'd come back in hours, quiet, and in need of a task. He'd rewire the alarm system, take out his cache of money and passports, check it and then put it away, pour over maps and schedules. She'd watch from the couch from behind a book or listen from the bedroom, never interrupting.

She told him how she'd come to Treadstone after a year as a junior handler. She'd been offered the assignment after one of her agents had gone missing when their op had gone bad. Nicky had impressed her superiors with the ability to instantly assess the situation, know and do what needed to be done, and ultimately make the call to disavow the agent basically allowing him to be killed. It had been her call at the meeting and she'd made it easily. Afterward she'd thrown up for an hour in the ladies room and had gotten extraordinarily drunk that night and consecutive nights after.

Her name had come up on a short list not much later when an agent was needed to maintain a safe house in Paris. She took the job immediately thinking she could get away from the guilt of having condemned a man to his death. Instead, as it turned out, that would be the main gist of her new job.

Inwardly she fought against the morality of it but she toughened and, in the end, it was her job, and she took it seriously and was good at the coordination of the logistics of it all. She tried to take solace in the other aspect of her job, the part that kept her there. The part where she looked after the health of the agents. Keeping them healthy, sane, and human were her personal responsibilities.

She told Jason about the time she'd begun to maybe care too much for another agent. West. He'd been wound tight and had come into the program not long after Jason.

"He was going to snap." She told Jason at the table one night. "I saw him one night at a party given for the Ambassador of Turkey to Denmark. I didn't know he'd be there, barely even recognized him at first." She paused. "He blended in, another guy in a tux. But there was something familiar about him, something off…" She bit her bottom lip. "That was probably part of the problem. He wasn't functioning one hundred percent, he was starting to lose it, to get sloppy."

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the memory. "I guess I was staring, trying to place him at first. As soon as I realized who it was—He just seemed so lost." She took a deep breath. "I looked away and didn't see him the rest of the night, didn't even know he saw me. But then the next day he came to the house---raging. He accused me of checking on him, getting in his way. It really didn't make sense. Conklin was there, heard it all." Nicky's lips came out slightly as she pursed them. "West went inactive after that." She finished quietly. "I never knew if he'd been…or if they sent him back for retraining." She looked at Jason. "They did that sometimes."

He looked at her expectantly.

"Not to you," she assured him. "You were always…operational."

He absorbed all of the information and then made a move that surprised both himself and Nicky. Typically he'd thank her, push his chair back, go in search of cool air and attempt to make sense of the new information.

But instead, tonight, he'd been sitting and listening to Nicky, watching her, studying her. And though he heard everything she said he was also feeling it. The rush of adrenaline as he itched to find out what happened to West, to take her in his arms and feel the skin and curves along her back, to feel her hair as he held her neck in his hand and kissed her lips, hard and yet tenderly. These were his new memories and at times he became desperate to make them real again. His feelings ranged from intense desire (like now) and cool and aloof when he reminded himself of the length of time it had been since he'd held her and told her he loved her.

And so tonight he'd made the decision to stay in and continue the exploration of the past and how he and Nicky fit into it. This new avenue of information finding wouldn't be easy for either of them but ultimately it was necessary.

"Ben." He'd thrown it off casually but in reality it had been hard keeping his name quiet this long.

Nicky's head tilted slightly, as if they new topic had just gone past her ear. "He doesn't have anything to do with Treadstone," she reminded him.

He deflected the answer and repeated, "Ben."

He wanted personal information, information she wasn't sure she was ready to give.

Ben was close to her heart and she already harbored enough guilt over his imagined but probable interrogation; Picturing his denials of her identity, bewilderment over her ID pictures and non classified dossier, his defeated acceptance over her lie; all of it made her twist with guilt and feel sick. She felt dirty even thinking of discussing their relationship with Jason. It served no purpose other than to satisfy his curiosity. But he put his cards on the table when he simply told her, "You knew about Marie."

"It's different," she told him quietly. He knew it of course but they both felt the same in that they needed to be on as much equal footing as possible. And so she took a deep breath and prepared.

"He's a good guy." She whispered. "It was hard. Really hard, at the beginning. I was scared all of the time, to the point where I was nearly paralyzed. Every face was an agent coming for me, every sound was…I was terrified." She hung her head, knowing she shouldn't be embarrassed and yet she was. "I went to Rome and he—" She swallowed. "Ben took care of me." Her tone was low and she stood, walking to the bookshelves spotted with books. "He made me feel safe. God, it was easy being with him. In so many ways it wasn't real and yet…it was. It was so simple. We drank wine and read the newspaper, we played stupid board games," she choked out. "Scrabble of all things. God, when's the last time I ever did that?"

"Nicky---I don't think I play scrabble." He rubbed his face with his hands. Had he been so wrong about her?

She snapped her eyes and locked on him. "No," she agreed.softly "You didn't."

It was quiet for a moment while they each processed memories of how they'd been together years before. Then he spoke.

"You were playing pretend. It's easy to do." He was distant and slightly cold which was in stark contrast to the heat Nicky suddenly felt.

"I wasn't pretending at all!" She flared. "I was lying, yes, but I was honest in it."

"Were you?" Jason countered. "You were Nicolette Parsons with just a different name?"

"That's not fair!" She fired back. "I did the best I could! I don't do what you do, I don't assume another identity. I can't live that lie" She was talking fast. "Did Ben know me? Yeah, he did for the most part. I lied about my name and where I came from. I didn't lie about what's important to me or---"

His fists hit the table and he was up and in her face.

"Were you honest with your feelings?" His voice was strong and low and there was immediate tension between them.

Nicky watched him intently, choosing her words carefully, as she spoke.

"Jason…you can't fake your feelings."

"That's not what I asked you."

Her breathing was coming quickly as realizations washed over her and she struggled to answer him. Was she a whore who traded herself for a friendly voice, good sheets and a bottle of wine, or had she dismissed whatever feelings she'd harbored for Jason all these years and slept with Ben in spite? Her only other out was just as dark; she knew there was no future with Ben yet she enjoyed how he made her feel safe and normal again. She could have lived with any of these scenarios if she'd accepted them for what they were instead of making it seem to be more than it was.

"Did you love him? Did you tell him you loved him?" Flashes of him saying those words to Marie hit his mind, heard her whispers back. He was as honest as he could have been with her.

I did lo—he was a good guy. Jesus, she couldn't even think the word 'love' when it came to him. He'd hinted to her the depth of his feelings for her and she'd been relieved when there had been a distraction. His kisses were strong and soft and yet she couldn't live in them, always pulled back quickly and first. What did that say about her feelings?

Jason saw her wrestle with her thoughts and emotions. He didn't mean to push her about him, about anything, this soon, but if they were going to move on—together—she needed to be clear. And so did he.

Finally, Nicky found some words—a detour but at least she was working toward her answer. "You're a bastard."

"I may be," he agreed. "What are you?"

The smack across his face was loud and hard. He could have stopped her, he'd seen it coming but allowed the hit. They needed to clear the air and they were running short on time.

"Nicky." He was aching to kiss her and when she looked at him she could see it and wanted nothing more than to simply inch forward and tilt her head up and meet his kiss. But it was too soon. She had to come to terms with what she'd done to get to this point before she could open herself up to him.

He back stepped away, had sensed her desire and then her cool. She was right, he knew. They couldn't pick up where they'd left off years ago. They needed to make sure they were focused on the present and how their paths should continue. Neither of them needed the emotional confusion that was sure to follow if they gave in to one night together.