Chapter III

Finding Her

Plane rides were always a source of paranoia for Jason Bourne; they were closed, confined, and were heavily populated. People saw everything on a plane, and everything they didn't see the pilot announced over the intercom. The only escape routes were well watched and using one meant everybody knew where you were. There were no places to hide or run to; there was no chance of avoiding a fight with crew or passengers. It was nearly impossible to carry out an assassination on a plane, and everybody seemed to know if you vanished for a couple seconds before somebody died. Ultimately, Jason Bourne was always nervous and paranoid on plane rides.

David Webb just hated the turbulence and food.

The attendant passed him again, and Bourne continued to fake sleep. Fake sleep was the only sleep he could get. His entire mind seemed to want to stay awake, desperate to not only think of her now, but find her. Ever since he had cleaned down his room and headed for a plane to London, he had wanted to start thinking of her. He was intensely and exhaustingly going through each memory of her, remembering each part of her facial expressions and what she said, at the speed of some of his car chases. What had suddenly motivated him to act so intently was beyond him; perhaps it was just the relief that he was hunting her now, instead of being stalked by her.

He continued to scrutinize his memories. It almost felt as if he was searching for something specific, something he wanted to hunt or chase. But Bourne had no idea what it might be, or what he was after, other than it involved her. Once he found her, it would all make sense: why she haunted his thoughts, why he wanted to stalk her, their history, her words, her face—it would all make sense if he only found her. And both David and Jason wouldn't rest until they did. He felt…wrong when she wasn't nearby. If he wanted to feel whole he needed her and his questions answered. Maybe that was all that was separating David Webb from merging into Jason Bourne was her. He had to find her.

Which wouldn't be difficult in any case; she hadn't changed her fake ID since they'd parted, and for Bourne, a threat here, a bribe there, and he was quickly able to pinpoint her location to London. He was slightly concerned and frustrated with her for not changing her ID; if somebody had been following the kill order they could've tracked her. But at least she had moved around; her false passport had showed up in three places before London. It was an admirable attempt for somebody who had never been on the run before. Yet Bourne knew that if somebody had been trying to kill her, they would've found her as easily as he had. Maybe that was adding to his anxiety on the plane.

He needed to relax. David and Bourne were certain—hopeful, positive—knew that she was safe and sound. And parts of both of them were eager to find her and possibly put an end to the stalking words and faces in his head. It was ironic for him in a way. Bourne couldn't live with it; David didn't want to live without it. David wanted to change the context of the word stalked, though, and so far Bourne was comfortable with it, as long as he didn't feel hunted. In fact, since he had started looking for her, he had felt more alive than he had known. It was an adrenaline rush, butterflies in his stomach, as he comprehended that they were soon about to meet again. What was the cause of these strange emotions, caused by her words and faces in his head, which drew him to her without escape?

Bourne grabbed the travel pillow and thumped it twice to fluff it up. He turned on his side and placed the pillow underneath his head. If he was going to operate properly, he needed to get some sleep. It would be mid morning when he arrived, and he hadn't slept well in the last number of days. Closing his eyes, he focused intently on the black refreshing calm of sleep. Slowly he felt his eyelids start to become heavier, and he sighed in relief. The relief brought a fresh wave of darkness over him as he drifted away. His last thoughts were of Jason Bourne wondering why on earth David Webb had chosen the word 'fluff' to describe his pillow beating. His second to last thought was her face.

*****

This was awkward. Jason shifted his weight off to one foot and leaned against the wall. The other five could understand what he was saying without trying. Jason Bourne was bored and impatient; he didn't want to be here. One of the other five, Alex, changed how he was standing in response. Bourne was put off by his answer. Alex was bored too, but he was telling him to suck it up. Still, it's not like Bourne had expected a pitying response; he wasn't going to get one from the other top assassins of Treadstone. He was only stating what the others plainly thought and felt; he tended to do that a lot.

They were waiting in the living room of a safe house, waiting impatiently for Conklin and Nicky to arrive. Apparently Conklin had some new protocol regarding reporting in after a successful mission, and he wanted to tell them all at once, without having to track them down. The top six of them were there, ahead of schedule like usual and waiting for him to show up. Abruptly the Professor stroked his temples and gave a universal glare. He had gotten one of their spontaneous headaches and didn't want anyone to bother him with anything. Somebody changed stance to agree with his dislike of the migraines and how random they were. Bourne got them, too, but they were all certain that none of them got as badly as the Professor.

Out of boredom Bourne looked up at Castel, who was slouched against the wall in a deadly-seeming pose, watching the other five lazily. He was also closest to the door. That marked him as the alpha male of the assassins, the best of them. When Conklin got there, he was to be the closest to him, and so on in order of pack rank. Bourne knew he was better than Castel, and he was certain some of the others knew as well, but being the top assassin didn't interest him much. Conklin was stressful enough as it was. So Castel kept the title, and Bourne let him think he was the best. Second was good enough at the moment; for the most part the assassins got along decently. They would rather be in different spots, but they were good at tolerating each other.

Footsteps caught all of their attention as what had to be Conklin and Nicky approached the door. Who else would willingly to a house full of the world's best assassins? Not anyone who would be living much longer. Castel stood up straight and the others, Bourne included, followed suit. The Professor grabbed a bottle of Tylenol off the desk as he did. He probably intended to take it with him. Nobody's stance seemed to care at all. They would probably buy a bottle on their ways home.

For some reason he couldn't fathom, Bourne was pleased to be seeing Nicky again; she had been the handler for the six of them for five weeks. And each time they met, Bourne felt the same unusual attraction, the urge to find out what was so interesting. And he was going to, eventually. She was interesting. He also held the secret that she was interested in him in some form. Of course, none of it was reflected in how he stood. The others would tear him apart for weakness and forgetting his training. And she would likely be removed, something Bourne didn't want. He enjoyed her as his psychologist; something about her face was…appealing.

The door opened, and Conklin walked in, followed by Nicky. They entered into the room where the agents were, coming into a wide view of the room with plenty of space to maneuver. It was interesting, Bourne thought, to see their reactions to the room; Conklin was used to the unspoken hierarchy of the agents, and he didn't interfere with it. Nicky, however, had never seen all of them at once, like she was now. It was humorous—and concerning—to Bourne how she acted, in complete ignorance and disregard of the assassin hierarchy; she only knew that very powerful and dangerous people were in the room. She knew she was in a room where moving the wrong way was a death wish, but she wasn't aware that the danger got much worse. Hopefully she'd eventually learn, for her sake.

Then Bourne became aware of Castel's stance. It disgusted him immediately, and he was surprised to find he was changing his stance to disgust and anger. The Professor, fingering his stolen bottle of Tylenol, was even looking the other way, agreeing with Bourne on this matter. Alexander looked resigned but put off at the same time. Castle didn't care what they were putting off; he was standing in a way that suggested things of Nicky. It infuriated Bourne. Castel was claiming her as his toy, in front of the others. He would not stand for that if his life depended on it. Bourne had some sort of emotion towards Nicky—what it was, he didn't know. But he knew that he would not let her be some toy for Castle, of all people. To do that, she would have to be his property. He had trouble thinking like that; he just wanted to find the secrets that lurked in the expressions of her face and made her so attracting to him. But if it was him or Castel…

While Conklin was speaking about the protocol, Bourne moved. He stepped forward, past Castel, and leaned against the wall in his own deadly stance. The other agents nearly jerked in response. Not only had Bourne moved further than Castel, he was closer to Nicky, and he was obviously putting out in his stance: No; she's not your toy. She's with me, or I'll kill you. Castel looked ready to kill. He had blatantly and willingly broken the chain of command, challenging Castel for the alpha male spot, the top assassin acknowledgment. There was no way this would end peacefully, and Bourne hoped it didn't. His attraction to her would not let her be Castel's toy.

Conklin actually stopped in the middle of his explanation to take in the brief, unspoken challenged that had all at once changed the tension to dangerous. Nicky appeared only slightly aware that the mood was more dangerous; she didn't even seem to realize that she was the cause. Bourne felt like reprimanding and pitying her at the same time. The Professor exchanged a stance with Alexander on who would be top assassin. Bourne didn't see Alex's reply. Feeling the tension, Conklin hurried through the rest of the protocol. Luckily, his cell phone ringed. He started to answer it and hesitated; leaving Nicky here, he knew, would be dangerous. He called her upstairs with him to 'do Logistics.' They headed upstairs. The Professor popped four Tylenol pills as they went, interested in the challenge. The other agents had eyes on Bourne and Castel, who were sending each other threats in stances. This would decide their social order for a long time.

As soon as the upstairs door clicked shut, Castel pulled out his gun and aimed it at Bourne. Bourne had been expecting the fight. He caught Castel by the wrist flipped him over his shoulder, the gun being ripped from Castel's hand in the process. As Castel rolled away to get to his feet, Bourne threw the gun down the hall. He would take Castel with his hands; guns never worked that well in close quarters. Castel came for him.

Castel swung at Bourne. Bourne leaned back to dodge it, and then to the right to dodge another swing. Castel followed through by kicking his leg back and around at Bourne's head. Bourne ducked beneath the kick and jammed his elbow into the side of Castel's knee. Castel didn't make a grunt but brought his own elbow down on Bourne. Bourne let himself sink with the impact and made a sweep with his leg, bringing Castel down to the same level on the ground. From there, they dived at each other.

Swinging for Bourne's gut, Castel left his kidney open. Bourne punched him there and then jammed his head into Castel's spine. Castel brought his foot over his back and kicked Bourne in the head. Bourne rolled away and got to his feet. Castel leaped to his feet, murderous intent in his eyes. Why had Bourne defied the social order again? Was his interest in Nicky that strong or worth it? Then he remembered the look Nicky always gave him. She was definitely worth it. Castel picked up a stapler off the desk next to the Professor. He opened it, leaving the bottom flapping open, and came at Bourne.

Bourne ducked beneath the swinging stapler and struck Castel in the stomach. Castel brought the stapler down and stapled into Bourne's right shoulder. Ignoring the pain, Bourne grabbed a wand lighter and jammed it up into Castel's wrist. It tore skin and blood vessel. As he stabbed at Castel's wrist, Bourne head-butted him in the nose. Castel stumbled. Bourne knocked the stapler out of his hand as he did and used the handle of the wand lighter on Castel's neck. Then he kicked Castel's feet out from under him and Castel fell onto his back.

Without hesitation Bourne was kneeling over him, wand lighter thrown off to the side. Nicky's face was embedded in his memory now: he could nearly feel the strange, hunting emotion she created him. Whatever it was, there was no chance he would let Castel make her a toy. Grabbing the other agent by the throat, Bourne began delivering punch after punch to Castel's head, making him bleed profusely. He was going to leave beyond a doubt that Nicky was off-limits.

A gun cocked and every agent jumped. Conklin was standing in the hallway, gun loaded and pointed at the two fighters. All six of them, including the spectators, had been so focused on the fight they hadn't heard him come back downstairs. How long had he been there? "Get up, soldiers," Conklin ordered. They did so, Bourne continuing to stand in front of Castel. "What is wrong with you? This is an operation, not a damn boxing ring. From now on, no more fighting for social status. Got it soldiers?"

"Yes sir," Bourne answered for them. Conklin met each of their eyes to make sure they would. He then called Nicky down and they left. Bourne relaxed his stance to let the others know they could leave. Castel was the first to leave, making sure through posture to let Bourne know he accepted him as the new alpha male. However, he also made it clear he would kill Bourne the next time they fought. The others left eventually as well, acknowledging him as the top assassin. Alex even paused to pull the stapler out of his new leader's shoulder.

There never was another fight between him and Castel; the matter was closed. However, the next day Bourne discovered that Nicky was now his personal psychologist and handler.

*****

Bourne jumped awake as the pilot announced that they had landed. He checked the time; they had arrived at the airport fifteen minutes after schedule. Trying to shake himself, Bourne focused on what was real and what was part of the dream. It had been another dream flashback, to his days during Treadstone again. Nicky was barely in it, but he had not remembered it until now. Why was that? Because, Bourne answered, he had fought to mark her as his. His what?

Neither David Webb nor Jason Bourne had an answer as he left the plane. It was obvious that he had had the same attraction now as he did in his memories; what he needed to know was why, what it was, and if that was what made it so hard for her. How had that been hard for her? Was it because he had fought to become top assassin to mark her as belonging to him? What did marking her entail to him? Had he done it only because of the strange hunting feeling, and because of her mysterious expression?

He left the plane, his heart starting to speed up. The predatorily hunting sense in his stomach spiraled like he had butterflies. What was she doing to him? For some reason, as he was took a cab, he knew where to go? Was her invasion of his thoughts doing something else to him other than driving him mad? As the taxi stopped, and Bourne found himself standing outside an apartment, he suddenly felt panicked. There was no explanation for why he felt the way he did. Curse the strange hunted sensation her face made in his thoughts.

It took will to knock on the door. His hunter sense was wild, eager for something…but what was he hunting? The door opened; Bourne took a quicker breath than usual. It opened the rest of the way to show Nicky Parsons standing in front of him. Her breath caught as his did. It was released in one word.

"Nicky."