ATTENTION! THERE HAS BEEN A MAJOR UPDATE TO CHAPTER 3! YOU MUST READ IT BEFORE YOU READ THIS, IT CHANGES THE PLOT SLIGHTLY. I had meant to change it a while ago, but never really got around to it. But now it's there, and you guys need to read it. It's just the Bourne scene, where he has a flashback. It's been changed significantly It's kinda the initial incident, so it's pretty important :D I'm gonna be making some more, less significant changes to the previous chapters as well: mostly fixing grammar mistakes and giving Danny Zorn his name back. Also,you guys may have noticed I changed the story description to her second big mistake being forgetting to scream. I'm gonna try and tie that in as well, Nicky's such a quiet girl that I have little difficulty seeing that being a problem for her. Also, after watching the Bourne series again to refresh my memory, I noticed that Nicky NEVER screams. The only time was when Bourne put the gun to her head in Supremacy. When you think about it, it doesn't really make sense: she didn't scream for help when Bourne took her in Alexanderplatz station, in Madrid when he pulled her into the room, or when Desh was chasing her (the loudest noises she made in that whole scene was a gasp, a 'whoa!' when Desh almost shot her, and the growl when she attacked Desh). I don't know about you guys, but I would have at least yelped in all those situations! So, possible mistake she's prone to? Could be.

Alright, now that you've gone back and read the change, welcome back to 'Left Behind'! I'm SO happy i got this chapter done!! :D I've gotta say I loved writing this chapter, my pack of assassins are so fun, I love them all. Even Echo, because everyone needs an evil sociopath to hug. :D Some technical terms that you may need to know for this chapter: to 'reduce' a body part is the same as setting it after it's been dislocated, it's just the proper term. Aside from that, not much else that needs explaing or defining. Enjoy the next chapter!!

Nicky was so astonished by the sight of him that for a moment she could only stare. "W-what?" She finally managed.

"I came this close to killing you, and you don't even yell for help?" Jason was almost seething: the maddest she had seen him since Berlin. That made her nervous.

She quickly swallowed her fear and responded in a calm voice that had almost no tremor to it. "I thought that you were an asset. Screaming wouldn't have helped. How did you find me?"

He looked over his shoulder at the window, his anger evaporating as he shifted to the cold, calculating Bourne, dealing with the present situation. "I followed someone else: they found you first."

Nicky's blood ran cold. "Asset or grab team?"

"I think it's a team of assets."

"What?!" Nicky stared, dumfounded. Assets never worked in groups. That was like suggesting that politicians were totally honest. "It's gotta be a grab team."

"It's not important. Pack up, we've gotta move."

The second his weight was gone from her shoulder she was moving. A couple changes of clothes, toiletries, her laptop, money...It was all found and tossed into her bag. She had the strap over her shoulder in a little over a minute. "Okay, I'm -"

Bourne cut her off with a slicing motion. He was standing beside the window, looking through at the street but standing at an angle that he wouldn't be noticeable. He gestured for her to look outside as well, and she silently slid in beside him and looked. Four men were approaching the front door. This would not have been too unusual - Nicky's apartment building had many late night partiers that returned at about two, but these men were not drunk and laughing. There was an ominous stillness and furtiveness to their bodies that Nicky knew like the back of her hand, and they had formed a subtle, but rigid formation, revealing their leader and ranks...like the wolf pack from hell. Jason was right again: for some reason, the CIA had chosen to put a team of assets together. "Shit." She hissed out loud.

Bourne showed no change in emotion. "Are there any empty apartments?"

"Not on this floor. There's one on the floor below us, but we'd meet them on the staircase."

"That's too far anyway." He muttered, calculating endless distances. He reached into his coat and pushed a silenced handgun at her. "Here."

Nicky took the firearm from him, checked the ammunition, raised and pointed it to adjust her aim to its weight and line up with it, then lowered it and looked back at Jason, waiting for instructions.

He looked surprised - it was subtle, but more than enough for her to see it. Nicky realized that he hadn't seen her handle a gun before...Well, at least not since his amnesia.

Jason shook it off and pointed at the bathroom. "Hide there. Make damn sure it's not me you shoot, but act fast."

Nicky nodded and darted away. She purposefully didn't look for where he hid; she didn't want to accidentally give him away if she was pulled out before he was. She crouched between the counter and the toilet and waited, patient as death itself.

She didn't have long to wait.

A faint click, then a very low mechanical hum, at the front entrance made her tense up. She knew exactly what it was, although she hadn't heard it in years: a small machine that was thin enough that, when fitted through the doorway, could allow a person to close the door almost completely. With a push of a button, it would push the chain that was so frequent in apartments aside, allowing an asset to enter without any sign of forced entry. If there was any doubt that these men were high up in the intelligence community, it was gone now: those machines did not come on eBay.

Nicky could hear stealthy footsteps enter the apartment. She hunkered down, readying herself. A shadow eased into view in the doorway, just visible in the faint light from the windows.

"Clear." The voice was so close to silence that she could have imagined it, but she could still tell that it was coming from the bedroom. The shadow tensed and loomed up in the doorway. Nicky gritted her teeth.

There was a sudden loud noise and a grunt in the living room. "Not clear!"

The figure in the doorway whirled to face the opposite way, taking a step although to help his companion. Unfortunately for him, Nicky was not one to waste opportunities. She lunged for his turned back and slammed the butt of the gun into the small hollow where the neck met the back of the head. He slumped, but not without making a loud grunt of pain.

Nicky slid out from behind him, gracefully avoiding the falling body, and looked up just in time to see motion. The human brain processes motion much faster than shapes or colours, and it was only because of this that Nicky was able to scramble backwards and throw the door between her and the charging asset. He stopped it from closing with his shoulder, peering easily through the doorway as she aimed her gun at him.

"Drop the gun, sweetheart. No point, we both know it won't help" The asset growled. Nicky bit her lip. If she dropped the gun, she was helpless. She was utterly trapped.
...or am I? She noted his position in relation to the bathroom lights.

With a shaky sigh, she let the gun clatter to the ground, placing her hands behind her head. The asset took a step forward, kicking away the gun and reaching for her elbow. "Good girl. C'mere honey, I'm not gonna hurt you." Nicky's skin crawled at the sinister voice. The tone was all-too familiar. The hand grasped her elbow and tugged her forward. She tamely followed, then whirled and hit the light switch with her other elbow, flooding the room with bright, fluorescent light. Nicky had shut her eyes the moment she made her move, but she still winced at the light that came through her eyelids, her eyes completely accustomed to the pitch black. The asset had less luck. His grip had worked against him, turning him directly towards the lights. She could hear him yowl with pain and felt his grip loosen. She twisted away and bolted, opening her eyes only when she was out of the bathroom.

In the living room, Bourne wrestled with two assets, one slender and blonde, the other well built and dark skinned. She watched him fight for a moment, trying to evaluate whether or not he needed her help. She decided not when she heard a bone crack and one of the assets yowl with pain.

A noise behind her caught he attention. Nicky turned in time to see the asset stumble out of the light, murder in his eyes. The fight or flight decision was the easiest choice she had ever made. Nicky bolted, the asset hot on her heels. Dimly, it registered in her head that he should have pulled a gun and shot her by now. But there was no time for reflection as she dashed through the little hallway that was her kitchen. Then, without warning, she folded her legs and crumpled to the ground, rolling into a ball. As predicted, the asset did not have nearly enough time or space to brake, and tripped over her body at full speed. His head collided with the table with a solid thunk, and hit the floor.

Nicky pushed herself up with some difficulty: the tile floor was not very forgiving, and her own landing had been pretty hard. She looked up to see her opponent pushing himself up as well, blood starting to seep from his head where he had hit the edge of the table. Nicky knew he would not be happy with her. She stumbled backwards: straight into a wall of muscle, equipped with arms that immediately grabbed her and held her immobile. The asset she had hit with the gun had woken up.

Now she knew she was in trouble. She could possibly fend off one asset for a brief amount of time, but two was out of the question. She was definitely over her head.

Scream, Nicky.

"Bourne!" She yelped, squirming in the asset's grip. Immediately, she heard the combat in the next room intensify as Bourne attempted to end it so that he could come to her rescue.

The asset she had blinded, then tripped, had stood. He was only a bit taller than her, with black hair and grey eyes that now held an ugly look. "Little bitch." He snarled, glaring at her.

Figuring that actions spoke louder than words, Nicky spat in his face.

He moved to strike her, but was stopped as the asset holding her released one of her arms to stop him…which was exactly what she needed. Nicky twisted away, her shoes finding traction on the floor and propelling her forwards. At the exact same time, the taller asset pulled back on her arm with terrific force. The opposing forces were more than what her shoulder could handle, and with a loud crunch, the joint dislocated.

Nicky was flung back to the floor, crying out in pain. Gripping her shoulder, she looked up at the two men who stood over her prone form.
The one who had grabbed her looked over forty - old for an asset, she fuzzily noticed - with green eyes, and was clearly angry with the younger one. "Hold your goddamned temper! You almost let her get away!"

Ignoring him, the shorter asset kneeled beside her. "Aw, did you hurt your shoulder honey? Let me kiss it better." he grinned sadistically.

Nicky prepared to break his nose.

Suddenly, a third man appeared, pushing over the shorter one and aiming a gun at the older. To her surprise, both assets backed off. The two men Bourne had been fighting, one holding his wrist in an awkward manner, appeared behind them.

There was a moment of terse silence. Then all four men retreated.

For a moment Bourne didn't move. Then he glanced down at her. "You hurt?"

"Not badly." Nicky knew that telling him about the shoulder was unnecessary and would only distract him. She could handle it herself for now.

He stayed still for another moment. Then he reached down and helped her up. "C'mon."

Nicky grabbed her bag out of the bathroom, and then followed him out. "Why did they retreat? They had the upper hand." Nicky whispered, a bit dumbfounded by the night's events.

"None of them were armed. They planned to take you alive; the leader must have had the guns put away to make sure that happened."

"Alive?" That didn't help her confusion. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know." Those words, coming from Jason, were worse than anything else he could have said. She pushed her burning shoulder out of her thoughts and followed him down the stairs, out a back fire exit. Jason had clearly disabled the alarm, and they got out with minimal difficulty. His car was parked close, but inconspicuously. However, the walk there made her feel exposed: just because the pack wasn't armed in the apartment didn't mean that they didn't have guns stored in a vehicle nearby. Bourne seemed to be thinking along the same lines: he took her arm (the uninjured one, thankfully) in a firm grip, leading her forwards to the car. Nicky wondered how he figured guiding her would protect them.

They got to the car without attracting attention, to her surprise, and even managed to pull away without the Wolf Pack from Hell showing up. But Nicky's eyes were constantly darting around, looking for any kind of disturbance. Jason took a confusing, winding route away, doing his best to shake off any tails.

After about half an hour of traveling in this manner, Jason swerved into an alley behind an abandoned building and swiftly turned off the ignition. For a few minutes, the two of them sat and listened intently for any kind of threat - sirens, car engines, gunshots... anything to signal that they were in danger.

Finally, after several minutes, Jason relaxed. They were in no immediate danger. Too exhausted to try anymore, Nicky allowed the burning pain from her shoulder to occupy her attention, wincing as she realized just how much it hurt.

Jason turned to her, and she saw him tense up as he read her posture and saw that something was wrong. A second later, he sighed. "Nicky, don't you think you should have told me that you were injured when I asked, rather than now?"

"It wasn't necessary."

"Yes it was. What if they had come back?"

"Then I would have been an even more obvious target - the fact that I was hurt would reflect in your posture."

"And if they chased us in the car?"

"Then it wouldn't have mattered."

"Untrue. I could have handed you a gun and told you to shoot at them."

"I'm left-handed."

"Oh." For one incredible moment, Jason had no answer. "You still should have mentioned it." he grunted as he motioned for her to take off her jacket, then pushed up her sleeve. He studied her shoulder for a moment, then looked at her. "It's dislocated. I'll have to reduce it."

She gritted her teeth. "Okay."

Jason nodded. "Get into the backseat and lay down. Bad shoulder out."

Nicky complied, now favoring her injured arm, not wanting to hurt it any further. Jason followed her in her door and knelt on one of the floorboards as she settled down on her back. He reached over her and grabbed the middle seatbelt, winding it around her chest, just below her arms, and then buckling it up into the other buckle, pulling it as tight as he could. "How tight is that?"

"Pretty damn tight."

"Good. It needs to be."

He bent her elbow so her forearm was at a 90 degree angle from her body, and gently took the elbow in his other hand and pulled the arm away from her body. Nicky shut her eyes, gritting her teeth slightly – contrary to popular belief, having a shoulder reduced was not as painful as the injury itself. If the pain increased, it was a bad sign. However, she was concentrating less on the pain and more on the warm hands on her arm...she mentally growled at herself and refocused.

Jason gently rotated her arm on the shoulder joint, moving it slowly back and forth, maintaining steady tension. Finally, the shoulder slid back into place with a heavy crunch. Fighting against the throbbing pain that was slowly receding, Nicky massaged the offending shoulder, slowly moving it, re-gaining mobility.

She looked up and was surprised to see Jason staring at her like she was some kind of freak. "What?"

He shook his head, her voice snapping him out of it. "Nothing. I expected you would make more noise."

"I'm more of an introvert when it comes to pain." she responded, continuing to rub her shoulder.

"Only pain?" The comeback was so unexpected, she nearly jumped. She looked back at him, and for only a second, she saw the old Jason - teasing her, desperately hoping for a smile or better yet, a laugh. But it was gone as soon as it was there, replaced by that damned blank, confused look. He had said it but didn't know why. Sighing inwardly, Nicky returned her attention to her sore shoulder.

She stifled a yawn. Jason noticed. "Are you tired?"

"Not really." She lied.

"It's one o'clock in the morning. Yes you are."

He had won this time. She nodded blearily, wincing at the memory of the nightmares. "Okay, I'll rest, but I probably won't sleep." She rolled onto her side, facing the seat, and curled up slightly. She closed her eyes as Jason returned to the driver's seat.

She was asleep before he even started the ignition.

Bravo had never heard a group of five men make less noise.

It was unacceptable, of course. This was easily the greatest failure any of them had ever faced, and it had been very evident in the half hour they had spent speeding around the city, looking for the targets. Not only had they failed to bring in the girl, they had lost both targets. Absolutely everything had gone wrong.

Now they were sitting in the house, silent and not looking at each other.

Alpha's cell phone buzzed. He didn't have to speak; everyone knew who it was, and what it meant: Calling it in. Admitting they failed.

The man punched the answer button with difficulty that had little to do with his sprained wrist, and switched the phone to speaker. "This is Alpha."

"Evening. I assume you have the girl in captivity?"

Alpha winced although he had taken a blow. "No, sir."

Silence. Then, in a disgusting, dubious voice, "Excuse me? I didn't quite catch that."

"We didn't get her." The words looked like they caused Alpha physical pain.

"Remind me...how many of you did I send?"

"Five, sir."

"And she eluded all five of you?"

"No, sir. The second target was hidden in her apartment. They were waiting for us."

There was a deadly silence on the other end. "And you five were duped by a pair of targets?"

"We expected zero resistance."

"Damn fool!" the controller raged, spewing obscenities at Alpha, who listened to it all, unmoving.

Bravo, however, had hit the end of his rope. The controller was supposed to be calm and professional at all times, not an arrogant slimeball swearing at his team leader. He picked up the phone on the table. "Shut up and think of a different way to complete the task, sir." He put it back down.

Silence. All of the assets were staring at him. Challenging a superior was definitely on an asset's 'Never Do if You Want to Survive' list, and Bravo certainly seemed like the one least likely to do such a thing. He barely noticed. He was waiting for a response, another plan.

Finally one came. "Just kill the goddamn targets and make sure the bodies are never found. Is that clear enough for you, Bravo?"

"Yes sir. Much more so, sir."

The phone disconnected. Bravo finally met the eyes of his teammates. "A superior doesn't speak to his subordinates like that. Even when they fall flat on their faces." Then he stood and left, having given his explanation.

Sierra finished setting Alpha's sprained wrist, then returned to the computers he had been manning, mapping out new possible methods, Alpha watching over his shoulder. Echo drifted over to the couch, deep in thought. Charlie walked out the door, calling over his shoulder that he was going to grab a bit more food.

As soon as he was outside, he felt better. He loved night time. It felt safer and more closed. A perfect time for stealth. He walked up the street to a gas station and quickly purchased a few various snacks before slipping out the door and walking into a telephone booth. He picked up the receiver and inserted a quarter into the machine. He dialed a bunch of random digits, at the same time letting a cell phone slip out of his sleeve and on top of the receiver. He lifted the receiver to his face, balancing the cell phone in between. As he subtly disconnected the payphone, he held down a button on his phone and recited a number he had memorized a few weeks ago. As the phone dialed itself, he stole a quick look in the glass. From all angles, the illusion was perfect: it looked although he was making the call on the payphone, an unsecured line, and someone talking on an unsecured line was not up to anything.

The phone only rang once before it was picked up. "Code in."

"Squarepants." Charlie had to smile: he had chosen the code word. No one could guess something so idiotic.

The line transferred, then picked up by a familiar voice. "What's the prognosis?"

"Didn't get her: He was waiting in her living room. Knew we were coming."

There was a sigh on the other end. "Where are they now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine: we went in unarmed, we retreated to grab some weapons, and they must have run faster than we thought they could."

"How did Wills take it?"

"Like a sniveling five-year-old, as expected. Bravo's sure got a set of balls on him, he picked up the phone and told him to, quote 'shut up and think of a different way to complete the task'."

"Jesus."

"My sediments exactly." Charlie shifted. "We were told to kill the targets and make sure the bodies are never found. No specifications. Any changes to my orders?"

There was pause as the person on the other end thought. Charlie waited patiently. Finally, speech came through. "Keep me informed. Your orders stand."

"Yes ma'am. You owe me twenty-five cents."

Charlie carefully hung up the dead receiver and the cell phone at the same time, raising no suspicions. Then he headed back to the house, whistling cheerfully and erasing the call history on his phone.

Thousands of miles away, Pamela Landy hung up her phone and sighed. "Godspeed, David." She muttered.

OhHO! What is this that Charlie is up to? And what are his orders? Where will Nicky and Bourne go from here, and could they possibly have to socially interact? Why does Sierra never do anything cool? (Ok, that one I can tell you for this chapter, it's because he was sitting in the van watching out for cops/angry ex-assassins and monitoring the security cameras) All if these questions will be further intensified but not answered NEXT on Left Behind!!!!!! Well? Was it kinda worth the wait? Kinda? Leave reviews for me to hug and feel happy about, they attract chapter 6! Oh, and no, you can't have Charlie. He's mine. MINE.