Chapter VII

All Roads Lead to Paris

Nicky was asleep when the train reached its destination. She was slumped against his body; her head was perched on his shoulder. It was little trouble for him to hold completely still for the duration of the trip, doing his best not to wake her. Instead of thinking how long he would remain still, he thought about how badly she likely needed this rest. Yet David Webb continually interrupted with how nice she felt laying against him, and how warm her body heat was to his own. While the thoughts certainly were pleasant and welcoming, they would often make him want to move to bring her close to him. So, to David Webb's displeasure, Jason Bourne did his best to focus on being a statue.

But he couldn't be one anymore. Reaching carefully with his other hand, he gently tapped her wrist. It was a simple, calming way to wake up, much more so than simply be shaken or called to. Jason Bourne considered an excellent strategy for keeping victims awake during interrogation. David Webb tried to focus more on why he was using it, other than what it was used for. Strangely enough, though, he found himself wishing that she would embrace him tighter in a struggle to stay asleep. He didn't know why; they had to get up and off the train. He continued the tapping motion.

Nicky's eyes slid open slowly as Bourne's tapping took effect. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she sat up, looking around. She turned back to him for an answer with that wonderful look of hers. "We're there," Bourne answered, keeping himself restrained. If he didn't, then he would be kissing her for making that face rather than getting them off the train. She was so beautiful, he thought, and so…tempting, it was hard to keep himself completely concentrated on their objective in this whole thing. He could spend time with her, Jason Bourne told David Webb, when they had integrated themselves into the city.

However, keeping herself looking blank and resolute, she stood up and stretched a little. They exited out the back of the train without any difficulty. Bourne made to instinctively grab Nicky's arm, so he could protect her, but he was shocked when she pulled her arm away. He quickly covered it as he read her expression. She was grateful for his desire to protect her, but the majority of her face was somewhat teasing, as if saying that she was a 'big girl' now. He still hesitated before giving consent. She rolled her eyes, considering his consent to walk by herself a joke. Yet as soon as they started to walk out of the station, she stumbled, having forgotten the transition from train to land during her conversation with him. Both Jason Bourne and David Webb struggled not to smile at her. Internally he was laughing at the sight of her flushed cheeks and hardened scowl.

They left the train station, Nicky turned to Bourne expectantly. She was surprised to see him turn to her expectantly. This was his plan; shouldn't he know what he was doing? His stance didn't change, and slowly Nicky understood why he was waiting for her. Jason Bourne had always lived in apartments chosen either by Treadstone, or where he had the best ability to defend himself or get away. He wasn't looking for either this time, and so he needed her. Apparently David Webb hadn't been much of one for apartment hunting, either. But why wouldn't he want an apartment that was easy to defend? She conveyed it to him as she flagged down a taxi.

Bourne answered with the short, quick words, "They won't expect it of me." His response satisfied her as they climbed into the slowing taxi. Nicky spoke to the driver in French a street and address. He secretly released a sigh. That had not been the true reason; he had come up with it afterward. In truth he wanted her be comfortable. If it came down to it, he could defend any house in the city. Nicky knew this, but she knew he would be better off if it was in an easier accomplished building. That didn't mean Nicky would be better off in something he chose, usually trodden down due to its anonymous appearance and records. However, if she knew he was just doing it for her, she might choose one of his choices for him. She always seemed to try to make him most comfortable. Bourne had dealt with discomfort in one way or another all his life. He was willing to again so the person he had found him loving was.

*****

Paz entered the room slowly. He had sneaked past the police tape and into Nicky's old apartment without trouble, arriving at night so that he had a smaller chance of being seen. For sentimental reasons, he had a handgun out and silenced. The feeling and familiarity of it in his hands seemed reassuring, even though his psychologist had warned him to stay away from weapons. Paz couldn't help himself. Even had he never been part of Black Briar, he would have probably owned a gun anyway. Bourne still carried one, and Paz was certain that other former assassin never felt the need to randomly go on a mission to execute somebody. His psychologist apparently thought that of him.

He passed on to the counter, where a cup of what smelled like coffee still sat. They had left in a hurry. Judging by all the scattered papers and trash along the floor, Bourne's fight with the killer in the house had been brief. It had not been pleasant, though. Paz had studied Bourne's handiwork in other hand-to-hand skirmishes. Normally Bourne was intending to disable or kill his target within the shortest amount of time possible. But this man…Paz had seen the X-rays of the breaks earlier that day. This time Bourne had been trying to hurt his target, as though there was some personal vendetta. It made little sense to Paz at the moment; what vendetta would Bourne have with mafia killers?

Everything he studied, he pointed the camera of his cell phone at. Back at Langley, Pam and her team were watching through his phone. Paz considered it irritating; it limited the amount of hands he had. He knew and admitted to himself that his mission was recon and search, not kill, but it was more comfortable if he had both his hands. That was why he had a Bluetooth device in his ear to talk and listen. Maybe he needed to talk to his psychologist about his constant desire to feel safe and secure…

"Do you see anything that indicated where Bourne and Nicky went?" Landy asked through the Bluetooth. Paz did one more search of the apartment before lowering his gun.

"No, ma'am," Paz said, holding his device closer. "He likely came up with it on his own, after they were already at Waterloo."

"That would be him. Head to Waterloo and wait a moment, we're still tracking Bourne and Nicky's passports—" Paz muted his Bluetooth as his instincts went off. Checking the safety of his gun, he stealthily headed into the bathroom. Returning his Bluetooth's noise to the minimum level, he noted something about the door. The lock had been played with. That must have been where the killer had been hiding. So why did the fight take place away from the bathroom? Had Bourne not sensed him? That seemed difficult for Paz to believe. He suddenly changed thought processes as Pam spoke quietly into the Bluetooth.

"I just got a call from the Director. He's 'officially' approved your mission to find and debrief Bourne, but he doesn't want a body count. With the publicity of Black Briar and now Bourne leaving a trail in London, he doesn't want the CIA to get any bad press. So lethal action is forbidden. He's afraid of the repercussions not only Bourne might bring on us, but you especially: you still work for us. So find out who's there, but no killing," Pam ordered. Paz had mixed feelings about Pam's way of working. He had discovered that she often felt a need to justify her orders or explain her reasoning. On one level, the Black Briar training he was trying to forget (and yet was utilizing at this moment) thought her explanations were longer than they needed to be and unnecessarily complicated. On the other hand, he appreciated it, too. Explaining to him made him feel less like a soldier without a heart and more like a person.

Two people stepped into the room as Paz put the safety on his gun and stowed it. It took him less than a second to know they weren't police, and he assumed that Landy and her team, watching through his phone, knew as well. They were likely mafia muscle, come to see exactly what he had. Paz searched the bathroom briefly for a weapon and left his phone sitting on the counter. Despite the heavy training at Black Briar, he had never been as accomplished with hand-to-hand or demolitions as Desh; Paz's skills had lied in marksmanship and athletic endurance. None of that meant he couldn't fight. He found his weapons and prepared for his assault. He heard Landy make a cursing sound in his Bluetooth; she could only hear, and that made her worry.

Paz stepped out behind the two men. This was the part that pounded the most adrenaline through him: approaching unseen and unheard. Black Briar officials called it the point of no return. Once an asset reached the pounding of adrenaline, they would take their target, or else the useless buildup of adrenaline was damaging to their 'weapon.' Now that he wasn't completely heartless anymore, Paz was shocked to find he enjoyed the rush. This would make for a long therapy session; he didn't want to forget this. Paz focused on his targets; they were both armed with pistols. It wouldn't matter. He struck.

A porcelain toilet cover crushed into the first man's head, breaking apart and dropping him like a rock. The second man spun around to shoot at his attacker. With his second hand Paz slammed a hand mirror into the man's gun hand. The mirror shattered and the man's hand was cut open dropping the gun. Paz slammed a knee into the man's gut to knock the wind out of him and then dropped him with a forearm to the jaw. He planted a solid, balanced foot on the man's stomach and drew his gun. The man, wheezing for air, found Paz over him with a silenced handgun pointed at his face. His eyes flicked briefly to his unconscious companion, out with porcelain around him.

"Holy shit," the man muttered. "Another one?" Paz didn't answer but kept his eyes and gun on the man. What was he doing? Paz honestly didn't know; interrogation hadn't been covered by Black Briar. Treadstone had covered it, but assets had never needed to interrogate, only kill. Unsure of what exactly Landy needed, he turned up his Bluetooth all the way and called in.

"One down, one awaiting questioning, ma'am," Paz reported. Perhaps Landy knew him better than he thought, because she spoke to the man through the Bluetooth. He had thought her smart but unperceptive. She couldn't read an agent or asset, and she seemed rather ignorant of people's emotions. That was his first and lasting impression of her. But just now, she understood him. She had tracked Jason Bourne once…

"Who are you working for?" Landy asked the man. The man continued to stare at Paz, frightened, until Landy asked a second time.

"He'll kill me," the man pleaded.

"Did the mafia send you?" Landy asked. The man broke down before nodding. Paz relayed his answer to Pam.

"What is the mafia's issue with Jason Bourne?"

"I…I don't—"

"What is the mafia's issue with Bourne?" Landy asked again. Paz mulled something over before trying it. He clicked the gun's safety off. The man looked ready to cry when he heard and saw Paz's action.

"I don't know! I'm new! All I know is that they've been watching Bourne for years?"

"Who's they?" Landy asked. But at this he shut his mouth. He didn't even make a noise when Paz pretended to load his gun. Whoever had they were, they had terrified him into silence. That much was evident in his body language.

"Ma'am, I believe that's all you're going to get out of him," Paz noted. "He looks terrified of them, ma'am."

He heard her sigh in the Bluetooth. "Fine. Head to Waterloo." Paz confirmed her order, and then pistol whipped the man, knocking him out. He put the safety on and hid the gun, and then retrieved his cell phone. Paz had been wearing gloves; there were no cameras; he would be unseen.

Paz turned down the volume as he walked back out into the streets. He knew London well, and it didn't take him more than half an hour to jog there. Running was one of Paz's strengths; he found some small, therapeutic measure in running. His psychologist said to run whenever he was stressed or had time, and Paz had never disagreed with him on this point.

As Paz reached Waterloo, which was still busy at night, he heard Pam's voice once more. "We just found Nicky's passport; they checked into Paris. Head there and find them as best as you can. Call us when you get there."

"Yes, ma'am," Paz answered, shutting his cell phone off. The call time had been seven minutes and thirty-three seconds. Paz found a train and climbed onboard, toting only a backpack. Despite what his psychologist and fledgling conscience told him, it did feel good to be putting his skills to use, if at least to help someone who helped him.

*****

"Bourne?" Nicky asked as he cleaned the dishes he'd used for dinner. It had been a small fast-food meal, bought at the last minute while Bourne was 'preparing' the apartment for their stay. He had been alarmed and worried when she walked out the door and he realized her absence ten seconds later. When she returned, he had been sitting on the couch, holding his gun nervously. He had been sitting there the entire time, debating whether to come after her. He only put the weapon away when she promised nothing had gone wrong. "When this is over, what do you want to do with yourself?"

Bourne had not been expecting the question. He thought at first that finding his memories would bring those answers. After several years, they had only brought conflict and no answers for his future. Then he had gone looking for Nicky. He felt more at peace, but still no answer to that question. At the moment, he was focused on hiding from the Italian Mafia. He didn't know what to do afterwards. What could an ex-assassin do? Jason Bourne thought as long as he was with Nicky, it didn't matter too much.

"Something quiet," Bourne finally answered, wiping down his glass. "Something that involves thinking, but only a little interaction with people. I want to be mostly unnoticed and to observe."

"Observe what?" she asked. Judging by her expression and seated posture, she was highly interested in what he had to say. Why was that? Jason Bourne, as well as the David Webb he was integrating, wondered once more what he had done for her to come with him so willingly and caringly. He was a murderer; he didn't deserve such. Why were his thoughts so interesting to her? She was the interesting one.

"I don't know. Things. People."

"So…a professor?" Nicky suggested. Bourne thought he saw a trace of smile on her face. He had no memory of her smiling, and he suddenly wanted to bring it out, to see her when she was happy and smiling. Jason Bourne let David Webb take over a little, in order to appeal to her sense of humor. He wanted to draw out that smile.

"A professor? What would I teach? 101 Ways to Kill with a Toothbrush?" Bourne joked. To his great pleasure, Nicky replied with a sincere smile before looking down at her plate.

His heart took flight at the sight of it. It was the first time he remembered seeing her smile, and he memorized it on the spot. She looked so beautiful with it…Bourne found himself wanting her more than he had before. Nicky watched with interest as he seemed to glide towards her and embraced her in a kiss. She sank into it and pressed herself against him, not minding when Bourne picked her up. Secretly, down inside, she'd been hoping so long to have him, and now she did.

*****Rome, Italy, 22:35*****

"Our man called; they have his position."

"Are they sure? They got away in London, and I don't want more failures."

"I'm positive, boss. Not only did our man come through again, some of our boys in London ran into a man. The CIA is after him too."

"Then do what you need to; take anything you need. I want them dead."

"Yes, boss. What about the CIA?"

"I'm going to bed. In the morning, the only decisions I want to make is whether to reward our man for finding him, and whether to leave something for the CIA to find."