Chapter 4

Jason Bourne reached out to grab Nicky's arm and watched as it phased through her, "Damn it… Come on Nicky, faster. You're not going to lose him, trust me. You have to make it look good though." She plodded faster down the subway stairs as she went deeper into the underworld and she wished that she were Alice going down the rabbit hole. She'd rather take on the Queen of Hearts any day verses being in her current predicament.

He continued as she pushed through the crowds of people going to visit family for Christmas, "You did the right thing getting off the bike. If you stayed with him," he swallowed hard and felt a sharp pain in his chest, "he would just get killed- like Marie. It has to be this way." She sighed as she got to the landing and turned the corner before swiping her card and going through the turnstile.

"Remember to go all the way to the left: to the beginning of the platform. I know you think that this was a bad idea and you are second guessing yourself right now. But this is a great plan and it's going to work. It's your only shot. Just act normal and look paranoid, you won't see him. Trust your instincts; I will be your eyes. Move when I tell you to and it will all be over in a second. I know you really can't hear me…" he paused for a moment and she looked around nervously, "but I am here with you. I am proud of you. I got you into this and I will be here until you're out of it. I'm sorry, but you only have to be strong another few minutes… Listen to your instincts… I won't let you down."

"Okay, now try to look nervous…" he whispered in dulcet tones, "But no need to be nervous. I'm with you…"

Nicky craned her neck and looked in all directions. She then looked at her watch and leaned out and looked down the tracks.

"Okay don't look, but he has worked his way up, he's behind you. I think he bought it, he just checked his watch. Okay he is coming closer." He saw her swallow hard, "It's okay Nicky. I'm here…"

Nicky leaned out to look for the train again and Nigel made his move as he took three quick steps and Bourne screamed, "NOW!"

Nicky side stepped and spun, her arm was extend like a club and struck her assailant across the shoulder blades and she grabbed a fistful of his jacket and kept pushing. It was a weak blow thrown by a desperate woman, to one of the most protected areas of the body, so out of instinct he didn't bother to block it having missed her intent. It was enough to continue his momentum forward off of the platform, which he had intended to shove her off of.

She saw Nigel land on the tracks and saw him illuminated by the oncoming train. Instead of making a futile effort to save himself, he rolled in a split second and drew his pistol in a flash. She saw his blue eye down the iron sights as his finger came down on the trigger. The horn blared on the train as it him and he pulled the trigger. She heard the shot and flinched and grabbed her chest out of reflex. "It's okay, it went wide…" he whispered.

One woman screamed and a few people saw the man on the tracks, but the crowd was so dense that there was a general lack of understanding of what occurred and no one recognized the gun shot for what it was.

"Okay, here comes your friend," he said louder as the murmur of the people around him grew louder as people realized what had happened. "Let's see if he holds up his end of the deal…"

The police officer she met the day before took her by the arm, in a very Jason like way, and led her out of the throng on by standards to a bench, "Okay, sit here for a minute okay. Then you can slip away…" he whispered.

"Thank you officer, once again the CIA appreciates your assistance…" she lied in a low voice.

"Anytime… Glad you guys were on to this cell."

"I have to stay undercover, but maybe the next time I'm in town?"

He nodded, "I need to grab some bad witnesses. Be careful."

She didn't need to fake being in shock or traumatized and took a minute to relax. Her idea to try to bait him onto the tracks was risky, but she thought it gave her the best odds and it also destroyed his body. She made sure to drop a fake wallet off the platform so the police would have a name to go with the corpse. Treadstone may never figure out what happened to their agent. She found a photo that looked similar to him, but wasn't and made a fake ID for him. The police wouldn't dig too deep and Treadstone may never think to look here.

Bourne muttered, "He probably checked in today since he was hot on your trail. Usually that would give you 72 hours before he will be missed. I guess you know more about that than I do though. Okay, your friend is busy now; let's go before people realize the train isn't going anywhere today." She slipped quietly away as was the plan.

She had visited the officer the night before and showed him her CIA credentials and explained that she was tracking a terrorist cell and that she thought her cover was blown. She said that she was setting Nigel up that day in the subway. He was to watch and not interfere unless things went south. Then he would pull her to the side and gather a dozen bad witnesses for his report as she quietly snuck away.

She walked briskly for two blocks to the park and sat on a bench. For the first time since she was scrambled in the middle of the night, to report to the safe house in Spain, she felt at ease.

Jason felt everything getting faint, as darkness closed in around the sunny day. "I think it's time for me to go," he said slowly. "You'll be okay now…" he said solemnly.

She blinked back tears and he stood up and jammed his hands in his pockets, "I would say that I will wait for you, but I hope you go to a better place than I am. Where I go is cold and dark. It's all consuming and you feel everything- constant pain, but can't move or see. I hear mumbling sometimes."

She blinked back tears, "thank you…" she mumbled staring at the clear blue sky, not really being able to hear him.

"Anytime you need me, just call to me. I can hear you sometimes in the darkness; when I am… away. It makes me warm, it gives me strength."

Her eyes searched the sky and seemed to lock on his, just as he could no longer make out anything but her porcelain face in the darkness. "Goodbye Nicolette," he kissed her lightly and suddenly she was gone and he was alone in the all consuming darkness.

Time…

…went by…

…inexorably.

He was cold and alone.

The abyss was darkness enveloped in complete silence, which was only matched by his despair and remorse.

Every part of him ached… his soul, his mind, his conscience- even the body he no longer had. His toes, his earlobes, his eye lids, his heart… everything about him felt tortured and dismembered. His stomach burned like it was full of acid and he kept trying to breathe but there was no air; or rather, he had no lungs. His torturous hunger was only matched by an unquenchable thirst.

Such was the penance for the oceans of blood that had flowed through his hands. There were those that he had killed for Treadstone; he remembered them all now. For years he wanted to remember; now he wished that he could forget. He also could remember the people he killed while in the SEALS and then the Special Forces before that.

He remembered everything and prayed for his soul and for the forgiveness of his sins, even though he knew it was too late for that. His soul was already banished: there was no light or tunnel.

He remembered the good things too. There was his family in Nixa, which included his twin brother Michael and a kid sister Avery, who was twelve years his junior and so full of life that it made him ache. He remembered football games, and barbeques… There were Christmas's and Halloweens… proms and weddings… births and deaths.

There was Marie, sweet but tough. She had been wise but naïve. But she was gone and most assuredly not here. He had loved her, but thinking of her brought him pain and guilt, which he already had in abundance.

He remembered his time with Nicky, which felt very much like an affair. They both loved the thrill that the secret affair brought and the extreme danger it entailed. It involved a lot of sneaking around, lying to other people, frantic sex when the situation allowed, and little secret tokens of affections that meant a lot. They had too, they weren't permitted much else.

The shows of affection started one day when he noticed that on his mission docs she would double staple the corners making a slight X. This led to him setting up an internet account in her name and would send her small gifts as if she ordered them: a scarf, perfume, or gloves. She would make sure to wear them when she knew he would be there, even when she wasn't supposed to know he was watching. He would secretly check on her before and after missions and sometimes she would put on the gloves or the scarf as she walked down the street and smirk as a playful wave.

He would check her house and car for bugs to make sure she wasn't being investigated, or that her phone wasn't tapped. He would move something each time he was there, so she knew it was him who had been there. For instance, sometimes he would move a dress he liked to the front of the closet as a polite request. She learned to play the game too, leaving magazines open to 'how to please a woman' articles. He would answer by jokingly taking out the trash, cleaning the toilet, or doing the dishes.

Once she left a flyer to a French vineyard in her car as a pleading invitation. The next time he came back from a mission, she found three bottles of wine from that vineyard in her refrigerator as a teasing refusal. Up to the challenge, she responded by freezing the bagels he would pilfer from her cupboard at his evaluations, as an indication of her mocking dissatisfaction. He tapped her desk with it incessantly, as if bored, until she relented and retrieved the toaster from where she had hidden it.

Another time he bought a set of sheets just like hers and switched her pillow case for his, so she could smell him when she went to sleep and vice versa. All of these little things went unspoken, even when they were alone. That was part of what made it special.

He remembered that her real name was Constance and that she played the violin. He found out because her fingers tap in her sleep as she dreamt about playing. There were the little idiosyncrasies too. She brushes her teeth before and after flossing. She always does her nails on Sunday night, even if she did them the night before. She sleeps on her stomach and she wears a lot of clothing to bed but strips it all off during the night. She loves smelling unsmoked cigars, which reminded her of her grandfather. She coveted the smell and feel of cut grass which was a rare commodity in Manhattan.

He thought about how little actual time they spent together and pitied it. Every little stolen moment was anticipated for days, sometimes weeks. Every moment he saw her was sacred. He had spent nearly every waking moment for three years with Marie, which had the opposite effect. There was no mystery or build up, but he knew everything about her which had a safe, warm feeling of familiarity. Their relationship was just as special, but completely different.

He felt himself growing fainter and calmer as time went on and he settled into his situation and accepted it. He was resigning himself to his fate of lonely desolation. He had made his peace and just as he about to let go and dissipate to nothingness when he heard a faint whisper, "Oh, Jason…" in her deep yet wholly feminine tone. Her voice cracked and he heard her sob.

His heart leapt and everything brightened to a dark grey, which was akin to blinding white after an eternity of darkness. He heard a deep racking sob and looked over and saw that they were sitting in a car in complete darkness, the interior was charcoal as well and the windows were both foggy and frosted over; she had been sitting here awhile.

"Oh, David…" hearing her say his real name was like sweet music, it was dripping with grief but so sultry. He saw the river of tears and her puffy eyes as she suddenly looked around in the consol for a tissue and blew her nose unceremoniously.

"I'm here," he tried to sound calm and to check his excitement at the door. He saw her breath exhale in the cold night air and she grabbed her shoulders but not in a bid to get warm, but to hug herself in a desperate attempt to not feel alone.

"Okay," she muttered to herself. "Let's do this Parson's," she said as she retrieved something from the backseat. It was a pillowcase with something in it and a roll of packing tape.

She wiggled out of her jacket and then her shirt and out of habit he didn't look away. She hadn't been overly sensitive after her surgery, but she had never let him see her scars either. She always kept her bra or shirt on, but he was always careful to still look enthralled. She was wearing a bra, but he still felt guilty drinking in her pale naked flesh and suddenly he felt like a twelve year old peeping through a keyhole. "God, you're so beautiful…" he whispered. She leaned forward and started to tape the pillow case to her stomach. "You're trying to look pregnant?" he quarried.

He watched as she adjusted her load and redressed in hospital scrubs. She looked at an ID badge with her picture and someone else's name before jamming it in her pocket. Her hair was long and red and he watched as she adjusted it in the mirror. She put eye drops in each eye to fix the redness, but there was little that could be done about the puffiness. She quickly wiped down the car and left it without bothering to lock it.

They were in a parking lot at the rear of a huge corporate looking building and she walked briskly across the parking lot but didn't take a direct route, "You're avoiding the cameras as much as you can. Is this a CIA building?" They kept walking and he admired her long red hair, "What year is it? How long has it been? Five years? It's hard for me to think…"

She of course couldn't answer, not really being able to hear him, just having gut reactions to his prodding. She walked to the back door of the hospital and swiped the badge and typed a number on the keypad. The door clicked and she opened one half of the double doors and walked at a brisk pace through the exit that was apparently used only by employees sneaking a cigarette, if the butts around the door were to be any indication.

He saw her looking up at the strips of colored lights above the doors, used to indicate occupation and reason for admittance. The ones here at the end of the hall were all out. She picked one in the middle and slipped in. He watched as she opened the drawers and loaded it with vials of medicine, bandages, tools and other supplies. She fiddled with a locked cabinet for a few minutes, "it looks like you can pick locks but not that type: you're doing it all wrong. The ones that take the circular keys are tricky. Come on, time to get moving. All this other stuff you could've bought at any corner drug store."

"God damn it…" she hit the metal cabinet in frustration. "Four times and I still can't get it…"

"…and you never will with those tools. Out! It's time to go Nicky!" he goaled.

She huffed in frustration and grabbed the fast food bag she placed everything else in. "Yeah, I don't get that… What the fast food bag about?"

She left the room and turned right instead of left. He went with her and examined her for clues. "You're walking too light and fast, hold your belly too. You aren't acting pregnant."

She adjusted her stride, "You know this is kind of refreshing. If I tried to offer you advice in real life you'd fight me at every step. You pull off sassy and aloof quite well. You're quite cute when your being sassy you know?" he said as they got on an elevator with several other people. "You have a nice butt for an expecting mother," he laughed until he saw the orderly behind her lean back casually against the wall and examined it for himself. "Hey Spanky, keep your eyes on your own paper!"

She looked at the orderly in the reflection of the elevator doors, "We missed the sexual harassment seminar did we?" she snapped causing everyone to look around and the orderly blushed.

Something clicked and Bourne asked, "Do you work here now?" The doors pinged and she got off at that floor and turned right. She stopped at the nurses' station and examined a chart. He saw a newspaper face down and he tried in vain to flip it over. "Hey look at the front page." She glanced at the newspaper and went back to the chart. "There's an important article on the front, it's vital…" he lied.

She flipped it over and saw nothing of merit; he however looked at the date and stumbled backwards in shock as she started walking down the hall. "December 25th? The same year… I was only gone hours?" the enormity of his torment hit him and he now felt true despair. He blindly followed her as he thought about his latest trip to limbo. The first few times were fast, as if no time past at all. This time it felt like millennia had elapsed.

She opened a door at the end of the hall and slipped into a patient room. It was occupied, but obviously by a long term tenant who appeared to be a burn victim, he was all wrapped up. "How are you today?" she asked sarcastically, not expecting a response. "You are as talkative as always Mr. Gorsky!"

He laughed, "Did you ever hear about Neil Armstrong wishing Mr. Gorsky luck when he landed on the moon? I know I told you about that a dozen times. I think it's funny because the G-men here were having kittens thinking he was a Soviet spy or something. When he got back he refused to tell anyone what he meant until decades later, when he knew the Gorsky's were dead." She grabbed a crutch that had been shortened all the way and jammed it under the door handle at an angle. He murmured without really looking, "an ad hoc New York Lock. Not bad, it'll buy you a minute."

She sat the bag down, took off her shirt and unstrapped her bundle. Out of the pillowcase she pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She dropped her wig in the bag and tied a classic blue bandana around her head she whispered, "Best disguise ever; no-one looks a woman with cancer in the face…" She pulled the scrubs off and started to unhook her bra and he quickly spun in an about face. He heard her cutting on something but didn't turn around out of respect.

"So, when Neil was a kid his neighbors, the Gorsky's would fight like cats and dogs and one night he heard her scream, 'No, sir! That little boy next door will be walking on the moon before I let you into my bed again…' So, when he set foot on the moon he wished him luck…" he laughed hard and he heard her chuckle.

"You know it's very unlike you to not peek when I'm dressing," she said in a sultry tone. "You can look now…"

"You can hear me," he turned quizzically and his mouth fell open. She had cut the gauze off the man's face, "is that me?" he squinted at the man's bruised and swollen head. "That's not me," he said as she lifted an eyelid and a saw brown eye not a blue one.

"Come on Jason," she pleaded as she opened the other eyelid.

He looked closer, "Contacts… You put in contacts? Jesus, I look like…" he struggled for words to describe his damaged face and broken body. "Well, I look like I just fell off a damn building…"

"Come on Jason…" she pleaded her voice cracking. "I can't keep coming back every night. I keep moving you and faking charts, but they will find you." She clutched his hand, "Please, you have to wake up…"

"You're being too nice. HEY! Oi!" he screamed in his own ear and his throat hurt, he saw the intubation tube going down his throat. "HEY! WAKE UP!" He tried slapping himself, placing his head inside his skull, and then took a running leap and fell through his body to the hard floor. "Ouch!"

She took the picture of them out of her bundle, she had unframed it. She placed it on the dresser facing them and took the gun out and put it on the dresser solemnly. "I know you don't remember, but we talked about this once," she uttered with profound sadness. "I made you promise that if Conklin every put an order out on me, if he wanted you to kill me- that you would do it." She gently rubbed his shaved head; he saw scars from at least one surgery.

"No, I remember. It was spring time in Paris; we were lying in bed on a Sunday afternoon after making love. It was one of the few times when we weren't in a rush."

"I told you that someone else would find me sooner or later and that I would rather take pills and make love and die in your arms." He looked at her nervously and he saw his real eyes moving rapidly in REM sleep. "You told me that…" and she finally broke down into full scale blubbering, unable to finish.

"I told you that I didn't want to go back. I never wanted them to take make back… to reeducate me. I'd rather die than be taken back to Hirsch… I asked you to kill me," he said in a haunting tone. "I told you to switch my meds with cyanide…" She had her face in her hands crying uncontrollably. "Nicky, I trust you to make the right decision…"

She reached over and turned the heart monitor off. She wiped her tears away and then removed the electrodes and then gently tilted his head back and waited for him to start to exhale before pulling his breathing and feeding tubes out. She sighed, "You're breathing on your own…"

She pulled out a syringe and unwrapped it, "I'm sorry. I couldn't get to the good drugs…"

"It's okay… You tried…"

She lowered the bed rail and carefully climbed onto the bed and lay down next to him. She reached behind her for the gun and placed it on her chest and she took his hand in hers she pulled the plunger on the syringe back, then she inserted it into the vein in his hand and pulled it back more drawing blood into it. She was going to inject air into his blood stream to cause an air embolism; it would hit his heart and cause a vacuum to form in his ventricle and stop his heart.

He blinked twice, realizing what she was doing when she adjusted his hand on her belly and held the gun in the other hand; it was resting on her chest pointed at her head. "No! NO! Nicky Parsons, this is NOT what we talked about! Stop this…"

She turned her head towards him and looked at the picture and laughed genuinely, "you always could make me laugh!"

"NO! Nicky, look at me! LOOK AT ME! We didn't talk about this being a Romeo and Juliet deal… The other one of us was supposed to live! CONSTANCE, stop this! LOOK AT ME!" he bellowed and her eyes flitted over to him and her mouth fell open and her breath hitched. She lifted her head and her breath hitched again and she swallowed hard. He realized she wasn't look at him but through him, he turned and saw a defibrillation machine.

It clicked to him too, "DO IT! What's it going to do kill me? DO IT! Get up! If that doesn't wake me up nothing will…"

She carefully pulled the needle out and secured the weapon. She jumped up and charged the paddles. She grabbed his gown and ripped it down and poured KY jelly on it and spread it around. "I'm glad you're a doctor. I never learned how to use those…"

She hit him without warning and he blacked out for a minute and he suddenly realized that his limbo was actually him being in his body. "I can do this! Do it again!" he forced himself to dissipate.

She leaned forward and listened to his heart and his breathing and then hit him again. She put her head on his chest to listen again and her hand was on his throat feeling his pulse.

She was looking down his body and didn't see Jason Bourne's eyes snap open. He saw the lights, smelled the ammonia, and then he felt the remains of the electricity that had coursed through him. Suddenly he sprang to life, grabbed her, then rolled and twisted off the table in the blink of an eye. He was back there… with them… He heard the haunting voice of Albert Hirsch, "Will you give yourself to this program?" then the sound of his own screams and the burning of his flesh. "You came to us Jason… You volunteered!" Then he was strapped to a table being water boarded and remembered how the drugs addled his brain.

"NO!" he shrieked. "NO! NOT AGAIN!" he screamed in terror as he grabbed his assailant and pulled back and he realized his attacker was light or he had a Hulk like adrenaline rush or both. He solidified his choke hold and kept them off their feet. He must run; he must get away! He had to dispatch this person quickly and quietly and escape.

As life drained from the struggling body, he channeled all of his pent up hatred, rage, and fear into the choke hold. He had a flash of the man with the bag over his head, the man he murdered and he realized how badly he wanted to kill this anonymous person. Through the red murderous haze he saw them feebly reach back with a limp hand, to go for his eyes which were well out of reach. Suddenly he felt the small hand gently rub the back of his ear and then lovingly caress his earlobe. Out of shock more than anything he dropped the person, hooked his foot under their arm, and kicked them over.

He saw Nicky's pain stricken blue face and then her bald head as she rasped and coughed for air and suddenly the world was growing dark as though a drain plug had been pulled and all the blood was rushing out of him. "What are you doing here…" he managed before he collapsed and darkness once again consumed him.

There was darkness…

Then there was light…

Then dark.

Then light.

He heard the never ending whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, and thought he was in Iraq on a chopper until he saw the street lights blowing by. He was on the highway, in the back on a van. He saw her face over him, but it was blurry and indistinct. She was trying to tell him something… but then she went away and it was dark.

He had nightmares and there was pain and screaming; then he realized he was screaming and someone would rub his head then his earlobes and say soothing things. He was being taken somewhere, but couldn't focus. He felt the need to fight, then to flee… but then he would hear her voice trying to calm him. He remembered ice chips, and cold compresses; he knew he had a fever and it was very high. Always there was her voice, sometimes singing… other times talking… He didn't understand the words, but like a child in the womb he understood the message. He was safe and secure; there was no need to worry. There was no reason to run or to fight.

Darkness and light. Light and dark…

Then finally the terror eased and he stopped screaming and clutching the blankets and he slept, really slept, as he hadn't for years. He dreamt that he had been fixing loose boards on the barn all day with his brother and was exhausted. Then there was sunlight, warm and bright. It vanquished the darkness of his past and the cold hollowness of his soul. The smell of death and ammonia was replaced with vanilla pancakes and bacon. The sound of his screaming was replaced by her voice. He could hear her singing and now he could clearly make out the words… and for a moment in time- in that blissful moment just after awaking- he wondered if he was now in heaven as he listened to her.

"Trouble me- disturb me with all your cares and you worries.
Trouble me- on the days when you feel spent.
Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burden- when my back is sturdy and strong?
Trouble me!"

He realized suddenly that she was playing a violin to the song, which explained why her voice sounded off, because her cheek was pressed against the violin. He wasn't moving anymore; he realized he had been laying down in a van for a long time, a day at least. Then he felt the clean soft sheets under him. He felt the bed shift and realized she was on it too.

"Speak to me- don't mislead me, the calm I feel means a storm is swelling;
There's no telling where it starts or how it ends.
Speak to me- why are you building this thick brick wall to defend me- when your silence is my greatest fear?
Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burden- when my back is sturdy and strong?
Speak to me…"

"Is that bacon…?" he croaked in a toad like voice.

She giggled, "Not what I was hoping for, but I'll take it! Yes, here you go. Banana and vanilla pancakes, bacon, and OJ. Your fever finally broke last night."

He opened his eyes painfully and saw her sitting on the bed, but just out of arms reach. He saw her bald head and murmured, "How did the surgery go?"

"Oh," she seemed surprised. "Well there was a skull fracture and significant brain trauma…"

"What are you talking about?" he croaked, his vocal cords still sore from the intubation. He reached for the juice and saw that his left hand and forearm had a hideous bruise and as he shifted and tried to sit up his whole body was shrieking in pain.

She blinked twice again and raised an eyebrow, "what are you talking about?"

"Your surgery," he said gently, his eyes resolutely locked on hers and didn't divert to her head or chest.

Her eyes narrowed, "What exactly do you remember- the last thing?"

He thought for a long time as he chewed bacon, "I don't know," and she looked gravely concerned, "…everything… it's seems all mixed up…" he said concerned.

She moved closer and sat next to him, "Do you remember Marie?" she asked gently, placing her hand on his.

"Marie?" and something shifted in his head. "It seems like… a dream. I had lots of weird dreams. It feels like there are two people in here."

"That sounds very good. I can help you with that," she said confidently. "Do you remember me? What's my name?" she asked hopefully.

He glared at her incredulously, but the tone of his voice was hesitant, "How could I forget you?" he asked more to himself than to her, realizing that he had forgotten her before. "Which one… Nicolette Parsons, Constance Lindbergh, Gillian Fox… there are others…" he swallowed. "Corrine Dechamp… Isabella Roche…"

She clutched his hand in excitement and he saw the ring on her hand, "You found it! The love letters I wrote? I hid them in my apartment…"

"Yes, they are so beautiful!"

"Sorry the ring isn't special; I used my own money- not blood money," he said sounding ashamed, suddenly remembering that she came from a very affluent family.

She beamed, "It is special; I knew that's what you did and I love it all the more for it." He saw Doctor Parsons take the reins again, "Do you know where you are?"

He around and shook his head no, then looked out the window. He saw the ancient gnarled chestnut tree branches scraping against the old window. He cocked his head and was clearly quoting something, "Nearly every morning I go to the attic to blow the stuffy air out of my lungs, from my favorite spot on the floor I look up at the blue sky and the bare chestnut tree, on whose branches little raindrops shine, appearing like silver, and at the seagulls and other birds as they glide on the wind. As long as this exists, I thought, and I may live to see it, this sunshine, the cloudless skies, while this lasts I cannot be unhappy."

"That's beautiful…"

"Anne Frank," he muttered sadly. "This is my old room… in Nixa. The wall paper is gone and the furniture is different, same tree though… I injured my brain? Am I okay?"

She finally wept in joy, openly and unabashed, "Yeah, I think you're going to be just fine…"

"My family, they know that I am really alive? They told them that I died…"

She nodded, "I came here years ago- after Paris, and told them everything. I was afraid you'd remember the address and just show up on the door step. I told them you might need some time to… adjust. I figured you would never ever come here, so it was the last place anyone would look." He looked worried, "I was really careful getting here…"

"How come they didn't get me? I left you in Spain…"

"Well, they didn't find you in the river. A policeman found you in Central Park halfway frozen. You told them you were from Portugal and that you were beaten and mugged. You had a Portuguese passport and they checked you in under that name. I read about it in the paper and I recognized the name, I created it after all… It raised a huge stink in Europe, you were beaten so badly that they put out a travel warning to avoid going to New York City."

"Wow, how did they not find me then?"

"It was massively publicized; I guess they figured it couldn't be you. It damn sure didn't look like you. I had to look for scars to be sure. Once I found you I put in brown contacts and kept moving you around every night."

"Are they after us?"

She checked her watch, "The asset they sent for me should be hitting his latest possible check in time in two hours. I killed him… Nigel…"

He curdled his nose, "Ass…"

"Yeah... I had to get you to someplace safe. You tore out your catheter and colostomy bag when you… woke up, and you already had a staph infection. I couldn't do everything myself and I didn't know what your mental state or capacity would be. You had a real high fever for days. Two of my friends in New York helped me drive down here; they left yesterday and are going to locations unknown."

He pulled her turtle neck down, seeing the deep purple bruises. "I…" he shook his head.

She grinned, "You've wanted to do that enough times…" she laughed. "I was hiding it from your mother, but don't worry- it was worth it!"

As he sat up and tried to eat, something clicked and he looked up suddenly, "Pam? Pamela Landy…"

"She is safe. Paz Carrasco found her and got her out of the country. They are globetrotting and will then hide out in safety."

"Paz?" He realized with a jolt that he had killed many assets that he- they- counted as friends, but he didn't know that name.

"He was in the next batch of recruits. You met him on the roof and apparently made quite an impression…"

"Oh… Wait a minute… He shot me in the back…"

"Oh, no that was Noah Vosen."

"Okay, well long as Pam is okay."

He sat in silence for a long time pretending to eat, but obviously he was deep in thought. The moment grew awkward and she got up and put the clearly second hand violin in its case and closed it slowly. "You're doing it already. Shutting me out… walling yourself in. Tell me what you're thinking right now… I'm a big girl." She slowly sat next to him.

He chewed the last of his bacon a long time, never meeting her eyes. She started to get up and he put his hand on her leg. He was silent for another moment before finally speaking. "You will think I'm insane," he said flatly.

"Maybe," she said with great gentleness. "But I would still trust you implicitly. If you're feeling something now- a violent urge or a rabid sexual…"

He shook his head rapidly, "No, nothing like that." He locked eyes with her and she knew he was waiting for any little change in her facial expression and she raised an eyebrow and prepared to not show any change in her face that would betray her initial thoughts. "I think I had an out of body experience…"

He saw genuine relief spread over her whole body and she inhaled deeply and exhaled. "God, you scared the crap out of me! No, that's quite normal with: brain injuries, comas, and surgery. I had one during my operation; I could see the whole thing from above… I…" she swallowed hard, "I knew what I saw going to look like: the scars… Later the counselors kept trying to get me to look and I wouldn't. Not because I couldn't handle it, but because I was afraid about being right about what I saw."

"I was with you… you lit a candle for Marie…"

"I told you everything each night and then I told you again on the way here…"

He frowned, "You don't believe me…"

She pursed her lips and never broke eye contact, "I know that you would move heaven and earth to save me and… if that was possible… that you did. I felt like you were there with me sometimes…" she said with complete sincerity. "How's that?"

He nodded slowly, "that will do…"

"Do you want to go and meet them now, or did you want to get some more sleep?"

"No, I'm done counting sheep…"

*Hope you enjoyed it. If you liked it, check out my longer Bourne story: Bourne Again. Don't forget to drop a comment in… :)