Chapter IV

The Predator's Hunger

"Nicky."

The word delivered a powerful blast of emotion and feeling to her. Since she heard of his 'disappearance' after Black Briar was publicized, she had been preparing for this day, the day when he would return and find her. And yet, after everything she had thought of, what she had planned to do when he came, she found herself caught thoughtless at the sound of her name emanated from his lips. She had known that inevitably he would find himself here, because she had felt the attraction pick up again, after all these years. She had never forgotten it, but now he had remembered. And everything she had expected to deal had conveniently left her thoughts, leaving her standing in the doorway with him standing there.

"Do," she struggled, trying to bring words to the forefront. For some reason, knowing that the attraction was increasing, her mouth was having trouble speaking. His influence was much stronger than she had expected. "Do you want to come in?" He only nodded; he stood like he was in pain. Not physical pain, although he likely had that, as well. He was in emotional and mental pain. Something was bothering him so badly it was plainly open in his expression. He had never shown such pain in his posture before. Was his memory of before returned, and was that what was causing him to suffer so terribly?

Backing up, she moved to allow him into the apartment. There was a pained, desperate flow to his movements as he took in the small, crowded, messy apartment. Despite whatever pain he was in, his eyes didn't miss a detail in the main room of the small-two room dwelling. He even paused to take in the smell of her coffee, sitting on the kitchen counter. But the smell seemed only to imbue him with more pain. She didn't know how to act; she was enthralled and frightened by his presence at the same time, compassionate and leery of the pain he felt. He continued to stand there, unsure of what to do. She started to move past him, trying to think of something to comfort him.

Did or did he not know why he was here? On some small level, was he in pain because of the attraction or because his subconscious thought he was betraying Marie? He had been with her for a long time, and it was obvious that he thought of her afterward; she had been the reason he'd gotten back into the game after Conklin's death. And she knew from CIA intelligence he'd gone to apologize to Marie's brother. Did he felt guilty about visiting her now? If that was the reason, Nicky wasn't sure what to do. If it wasn't, perhaps then he was in pain much like he had been before.

She tried to do something to comfort him. "Do you want something to drink, J—" Nicky caught herself. She had nearly called him Jason. But what if he had denied that part of him and was more David Webb? Perhaps that was the reason he was in pain; he was trying to close off Jason Bourne and be David Webb. She had never known him as David Webb. She hadn't even known his real name until lately. She had met him as assassin Jason Bourne. Nicky Parson had no place in David Webb's world, only Bourne's. Her heart inwardly started to die.

"Bourne," he said quietly, his words barely touching the stifling silence that was enveloping the room. At his words, Nicky felt her pulse race and her heart beat with renewed energy. He had said quite clearly—both verbally and through posture—he would rather be called Bourne. That had to mean that Bourn had at least some part still in his life, and that he wasn't closing off that part of him. This meant that possibly she still had some hope to be in his life. The rest of him was easy to read; he didn't want anything to drink, and his pain was increasing. He had the desperate, stalked, hunting look in his eye. Bourne was searching for something to quell the pain, desperately trying to complete and end the puzzle, but he didn't know what.

"I…" Bourne began uncomfortably, searching for what he wanted. It was rare when he spoke what he was feeling; he usually exhibited it through stance. Nicky felt herself hanging on every breath and word that he uttered; a little desperation of her own was manifesting itself in her. "I…I can't stop thinking about you." The words hung deeply in the tense, stifling atmosphere. Nicky felt pained and exhilarated at the same time, uncomfortably aware of the two ways this could go in. He was in so much pain, it was nearly unbearable and heartbreaking just to see him like this.

"You creep into my thoughts and I can't help but let you," he muttered frantically trying to make sense of what he was feeling. He felt more hunted and stalked than he had ever before. It was supposed to stop being like this when he found her. He had found her now, but instead of going away, it had increased. Bourne's predator instincts were wild, feral, hunting with more desperation that he thought possible. But what was he hunting? He couldn't make sense of how he was feeling, and neither personality, Bourne or David, could accurately explained just how badly Nicky was tearing him apart inside.

The worst of part it was that she was making the exact same face that she had always made, the face that haunted him. She was reflecting back some of what he was feeling and her own feelings as well. He hadn't known he was in that much pain, or that she was either. But just seeing her face sent her words spiraling around his mind and he felt close to slipping. Slipping into what, he had no idea. But he was certain his control over something was slipping. It was painful, being so close to her and not having what he hunted. He didn't even know what he hunted.

"I feel like I'm obsessed with you. You're intoxicating me and my thoughts," Bourne tried to explain, stepping closer. "I can't help but feel hunted and chased by your face at night." He felt addicted, while not at all certain what about her was so addicting. Her smell reached his nostrils, again, like it had when he had smelled the coffee. She smelled so nice, it was thought-stopping. It certainly increased his predator's senses. Bourne was close to slipping into something and David didn't know what to do.

Then Bourne noticed she had a lock of hair out of place, lying on her forehead. The feelings and knots in his stomach suddenly became pushed aside as Bourne was distracted by the lock of hair on her forehead. The David Webb he was integrating in himself was frustrated. Here they were, so close to discovering why she haunted him and drove him, and the assassin was distracted a lock of hair. What was so important about it? Stay focused. However, focusing became increasingly difficult as one of his headaches came back in force at the sight of the lock.

*****

…Bourne forced himself to relax. He had to maintain appearances to keep her calm. Underneath, he was churning, already evaluating the room and Nicky's protection. Why was he acting this way? It was distracting towards his training. Watching the windows, doors, and trying not to think about her face, he answered the phone. "Jason Bourne."

"Bourne," Conklin said, "Remember your latest assignment?" Bourne didn't answer; he knew Conklin already knew he did. Why did it matter? He had completed his mission excellently, even convincing the target's party the target had died in a car crash. "They didn't fall for it, and they've now stumbled onto Treadstone."

The alpha male assassin already knew what Conklin was about to say. His hand immediately had his handgun loaded and pointed at the windows and door. Nicky ducked down behind her desk. Bourne's head was coming up with different escape routes and situational tactics, how many this specific group might have sent. He wasn't expecting Conklin's words. "They're not coming for you, Bourne. They know too well what would happen right now. I'm sending the Professor to take care of their new leader. You are to escort Nicky to the nearest Treadstone safe house; keep her safe. You have the green light on anyone who follows you."

"Yes sir," Bourne answered before he could take in the rest of Conklin's words. They were coming for Nicky? What had she done to them? It was he who had killed their leader. His eyes darted quickly to Nicky, whose eyes met his. A silent conversation spilled between them, and Bourne could tell that she was scared. She didn't know why she was scared, or that she was even a target at the moment. She was just scared, and she was looking to him for answers and security. His predator awoke, and the strange hunting feeling returned. It no longer mattered who was after Nicky; he would kill them and/or stop them, just as he had Castel nearly a year ago.

"Get to it, soldier," Conklin ordered, and hung up. Bourne tossed Nicky's phone back to her and moved to check the windows. He pulled his silencer out of his pocket and attached it to his handgun. Nothing was going to get past him. Training was already telling him what to do. Bourne moved to check the door next. Nicky slowly stood up. He turned around found himself looking at her face. A long second passed as she read his face and he examined hers. Her expression went from alarmed to scared to reassured before it finally rested on trusting him. A slew of other emotions were there, but Bourne had neither time to examine them or the ability. His own hunter instinct was increasing, and it did so more when he grabbed her by the arm just above the elbow.

"This way," Bourne ordered quietly as they headed for the door. Just as he expected, the door burst open. Without blinking Bourne raised his gun and shot. The would-be attacker dropped dead as the bullet struck him in the head. As they walked past him, Bourne shot him twice in the chest to make sure he was dead. He glanced at Nicky as they headed toward the stairs; she looked a little sick. He wondered if she had ever seen someone die before. He knew she had seen bodies, but never if she had seen them die. Now she had. For some reason he felt guilty.

But then his training kicked in as did his hunting feeling. Now was not the time to be distracted. It was seven blocks to the safe house, and they would be going in the darkness of night. It was an advantage and disadvantage at the same time. They headed down the stairs, Bourne not releasing his grip on her arm. Nicky looked worried and yet confused as to why he held her so. They exited the building, and Bourne stopped. He raised his gun and fired; a gunman dropped dead from on top of a roof. He could almost feel Nicky's shock as his gun thwacked twice, killing the assassin she had never seen.

They continued down the street, Bourne's head spiraling with his training and the attraction to her. He felt a headache begin to arise from the incredible thinking power he was putting forward. It was the last thing he needed. It didn't help him at all when he noticed how close her proximity was to him. Bourne needed to focus, not be distracted by this powerful, confusing attraction. Otherwise Nicky might end up dead. That thought, imbued with everything he was thinking about, put both behind his objective.

Down a street a car screeched as it came towards them. Bourne was frustrated; they were only two blocks down the street, too far to hide. It was infuriating that a parking lot was just ahead. A gunman stuck his weapon out the window and shot as Bourne yanked on Nicky's arm, pulling her behind him. The fresh, hot, burning pain entered his shoulder as he took the bullet for her. Sparing only a tight breath, he aimed with both hands and shot their tires. The car squealed as it headed for a lamp post and crashed into it, driver unable to keep control with two tires flat.

His shoulder in tight pain, Bourne turned a corner, heading towards a club instead of the safe house. He shared a glance with Nicky. She could read his pain and also some of what his concerned thoughts were. He saw her fear and concern for him. She shouldn't be; she was the one in danger. Then she finished reading his pose and understood his plan. They headed faster for the club, Bourne's grip on her arm remaining.

He had his gun hidden in his pocket as they reached the entrance. For appearances sake, he let go of her. With the casual tip of three hundred dollars, the bouncer let them pass the line and head in. Once inside, Bourne's training was calculating. The club was full of people, and it would be impossible to find or even kill someone here. That was exactly what he wanted. He led Nicky off to the side through a hallway. He glanced behind him, and his training informed him of the two men who had entered the club after them. He had little time.

Bourne turned into a hallway which turned out to be a dead end; it was just a bathroom. He looked around, already reaching for the gun. Instincts told him the men were very close and approaching the hall. He took in their surroundings; from where they stood only their shadows could be seen from outside the hall, but if the men entered it…

Training instincts and attraction merged again. Bourne faced Nicky, who was emanating fear but trust at the same time. A lock of hair was out of place on her forehead. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"With what?" she replied back softly. Bourne could nearly see the men through the wall.

"Do you just trust me?" he asked again, a bit more urgent. Nicky's face put off a flurry of emotion before she nodded. He flicked the lock of hair back in place. Then he pulled her close to him and kissed her deeply, wrapping his arms around her. One eye, struggling to stay open, saw the shadows of the killers. They stared at his and Nicky's shadow before passing on…

*****

"Bourne?" The voice seemed slightly distant to him, through fogged memories becoming clear. First things first, though: Bourne tried to focus what he was doing. He realized one hand was gripping a counter, knuckles turning white as he held onto it for support. The other was pressed tightly against his forehead, trying to shove away the receding headache. Finally all of his senses returned and Bourne knew where he was. He was in Nicky's apartment; she was standing next to him with a fearful look spread across her face. It changed to relief when he appeared fine and stood up straight, breaths coming in more natural and smooth.

Bourne was not fine, though; he felt even more pained and hunted. He had answers, but not all of them. Somewhere, back during Treadstone, he had felt this same hunting desire, and he realized it had been satisfied at one point. Pieces were being set in place. Bourne wasn't addicted to her face and words; she wasn't haunting his thoughts and invading his mind. He wasn't obsessed with her. He was going through a lack of her, began when his memories returned in New York and his mind had remembered being satisfied in some way. He wasn't hunting something as much as he wanted something. He needed something.

But what was it that he wanted so badly, it was causing him pain? What could he be deprived of that was causing him to feel hunted, stalked by the most powerful of enemies? He focused on what he was seeing. Nicky Parsons stood a step away from him. Bourne's thoughts froze in place before working faster. He knew exactly who haunted it and pained him; he knew who he was addicted to, and he knew without a doubt who we wanted. He knew that had a history together, and that his lack of her is what haunted him. The only question that remained is what he wanted of her.

His eyes caught on the lock of hair that was out of place. David Webb and Jason Bourne knew what she could give him.

He wasn't sure how it happened, but he found her chin cupped within his hand and his lips pressed against hers with his free hand holding her close. She felt startled and then content as her arms slid up to take hold of his face. It was a surprise—and yet not—to find how perfectly her body and lips melded to his own. It filled him with euphoria when she began to return the kiss.

Like he had blown apart a dam, all of the tension he'd been feeling—the hunted feeling, her invasion of his thoughts, her endless repeat of her words and face in his dreams, the pain, the hunting, the desperation—gushed out and left him, leaving him only wanting. And he wanted, taking her in as she returned his desire and need. The explosive feeling continued as Bourne and Nicky took all each other had to offer. He never wanted to stop.

It was almost regretful for Bourne and David when Bourne realized there was an assassin in the room.