Nicky rubbed her face; she looked toward the breakfast bar and her now cold coffee on the side. So the moment had finally arrived, 18 months after Marseilles and 5 years after joining Treadstone, now she was having this conversation. Nicky glanced over to Jason who was sat on the sofa; for a moment they looked at each other directly in the eye and then Nicky began to speak, surprised at how calm and detached her voice sounded:

'We met during our first year at Georgetown, on the same poli sci course together. You did a degree in IR and Engineering; mine was IR and Psychology - I know the dates don't add up' She said quickly as Bourne was about to interrupt, Nicky found that she wanted to get this out in one go.

'You were older when you did your course; I was practically straight out of high school, having travelled for a year first around Europe. David Webb had been in the Marines since he was 18, but the Navy Seals had offered to fund your degree provided you served with them afterwards. So you arrived at Georgetown and we met…and became attached.' Nicky finished lamely; she was not entirely comfortable with putting a name on their relationship when he couldn't even remember the majority of it.

Standing awkwardly by the breakfast bar, she watched as Jason processed this new information - if he remembered anything he wasn't giving it away. His stoic face was cast downward as though he was desperately racking his brains trying to adhere any fact that she had given him to a blurry image in there. It was comforting in some ways to know that it wasn't coming back quickly; maybe Nicky would have some time before telling him about the 'real' things.

'Not remembering any of it?' Nicky said quietly. He looked up at here as though startled that she was even there.

'I don't remember what your telling me, no' He said coldly, not entirely sure why he was pissed at her. Nicky nodded sadly and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a large blue book. Stopping a few feet away, she kept her eyes on the book she was holding out in front of her. Jason watched as she bit her lower lip, as though deciding whether it was safe to entrust it to him. Apparently it was because she held it out to him, and after a few moments of staring into her blue eyes, eyes that were almost pleading with him not to take it, he reached out and took the bulky blue book from her.

On closer inspection it turned out that what Jason had originally assumed was a book, was actually a photo album. From the look of its tattered outer cover, it had been viewed often; for some reason Jason had an unexpected pang of sympathy for Nicky – he knew all too well what it was like to lose someone. Yet the difference in circumstances were surprising: he knew that they had never been lovers whilst he was working for Treadstone, or for that matter barely civil to one another. Maybe she had followed him to Treadstone? But then who would do that to themselves? See their ex lover who had no recollection of them? The more Jason thought about it, the less happy he was. With an increasing sense of trepidation he opened the album, glancing up to find that Nicky was not anywhere in the living room – he could hear the shower running. The first page was a blank white sheet, and written in pink ink were the words:

Property of Nicolette Parsons and David Marcus Webb.

Jason stared at the words; her curly lettering in such a garish colour seemed a complete paradox to the Nicky that he knew now. Nicolette Parsons and David Marcus Webb…she knew his middle name, the thought was oddly comforting. And then it happened: not so much a memory but an assertion – she'd hated her middle name, Angela, so whenever he was annoying her he used to call her Angie….

He sat back, the recollection still burning in his mind. Her middle name had been Angela, another solid piece of evidence of his life as David Webb, of his relationship with Nicky. Taking a deep breath, Jason turned the page.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Closing the photo album, Jason leaned back into the sofa, his mind whirling. With the photos had come the memories – a shocking assault of image upon image that barraged his brain in such a rapid succession that he barely had time to process what he was seeing. It had taken so long to reach where he was now – trying to remember his life a Jason Bourne had been a protracted and relentless quest. But it seemed as though his mind had no problems recalling the details of David Webb's existence. Photos of him and Nicky, beaming and laughing – he had been surprised to see how happy and young he had looked and how right him and Nicky had seemed together. It was uncomfortable – like he was watching someone else's life, remembering someone else's memories. He had remembered him and Nicky together: laughing, playing, fighting…making love. The Nicky from his memories was such a different creature from the one he knew now – she had been always laughing, passionate and gregarious. There had been photos of him graduating with others – possibly friends, though try as he might, he couldn't remember them. He remembered the Marines and the Seals: he had liked the discipline – the hands on approach. Yet he still could not remember his family, his education, his friends or home: the clearest image he had was Nicky – Nicky, the one consistency between Webb and Bourne.

As he sat there Jason couldn't prevent his mind from wandering to his memories of them together – kissing, laughing, rolling around in bed, her body pressed against his…

'Any luck?' Nicky's voice rang out like a shout even though she'd spoken softly, standing just inside the doorway; Jason tried not to start as he blinked away the images in his mind. Clearing his throat he practically threw the album onto the coffee table.

'Some – college is really clear now, and some memories of my time in uniform.' He said looking up; Nicky was dressed for work, Jason noticed that she looked pretty – always understated, never garish. She nodded, obviously not wishing to push it further.

'Well I'm off to work, I'm already running late. I'll be lack later – got a night off. I-I…ok. Bye' She said awkwardly before practically running for the door. The sound of it slamming echoed through the apartment, leaving Jason surrounded by silence, just his memories for company - memories of tenderness and sweat and Nicky crying out in ecstasy.