Perth, Australia

Marta Shearing had only taught three Introduction to Biology classes at the local community college and was still expecting the entire class to pull out guns and start shooting at her. She had contacted Aaron Cross about the idea of her teaching a few college classes and he was adamantly opposed to the idea, but she just couldn't sit on her hands anymore.

She hadn't realized how utterly depressed she was until she was cleaning her gun one day and took a little too long doing it; looking at the weapon longingly. Cross had set her up in Australia and then left for parts unknown or walk-about as her new countrymen would call it. Much of the year she had spent with little to no companionship and it was wearing on her.

She had worked a variety of odd jobs and had tried a few roommates and even had a boyfriend in the past year. But she found it was difficult to trust anyone with the CIA out to kill her, not to mention the daily 'How not to get yourself killed' emails Aaron sent her.

She knew that people on the run eventually broke down and reentered society. At the beginning of it all she laughed at the idea that someone could so monumentally naive as to stop running and hiding. Now she understood. No one could live like this- day to day- place to place, for long. That wasn't a life, now she knew that she'd rather be dead.

So, Aaron had tried to set her up with the best fake life that he could. He had always tried to send money when he could, although it was never much. He had a nest egg to start with, but she could only imagine how much money he was burning through; he was constantly in motion. She tried to not feel guilty about taking his time and money, but she had given him his life's dream- freedom from the chemicals that had kept him enslaved to the defense department.

From time to time he would stop in, sometimes just staying for coffee and to sweep for bugs, other times he would stay for a few days. This time he was here for a glorious three weeks, helping her set up everything and perfect her cover story. He devised different exit strategies if things went south and drilled her ad nauseum.

When they were first on the run, she had this girlish notion that they would romantically travel the world together in luxury. In reality she found very little of either. He never said for whom the June Monroe ID's were made, but it was clear that he had made them for someone that he cared dearly for. Whether she was still around- in hiding or otherwise, she never knew. At first she assumed she was a deceased lover- a romantic notion, but foolish. It could have just as easily have been a sister or daughter- or wife even.

He had shown up three weeks ago and said he was stopping through on the way to contact someone. That seemed normal enough until he left all of his extra money and material possessions there with her. He had never left as much as a fingerprint before that. This worried her tremendously; the fact that he clearly thought there might be the chance that he wouldn't comeback. She had always assumed that he would out live her as was terrified at the thought of a world without Aaron Cross in it.

When she looked up and out at her assembled students, which should have been ninety-two if they all bothered to show up, she didn't immediately notice the girl in the front row. Call it amateurish if you like, but she was focused on people in the back and on the edges, thinking an impostor would be laying low.

When her eyes fell on her the second time, it was the fact that there was both intellect and fascination in her eyes that gave the girl away. She was studying her every motion and hanging on every word. There was a fraction of a second of terror and then she blurted, "Excuse me, but are you enrolled in this class?" as she grabbed her roll sheet.

"I just signed up this morning," she said coolly, but the fascination remained. Marta suddenly felt like a bug in a glass jar with giant eyes outside peering in at her.

"No you didn't; the class has been full for weeks…" she snapped.

"Professor Mulligan granted an exception…"

"Fascinating, especially as his mother died two days ago and he's in Sydney seeing to her affairs. Please show me your student ID!" she demanded, setting her jaw. She tried to act every bit the English disciplinarian, but her terror was building. She knew her story was utter rubbish, but the girls hand had been called. Now she waited to see her cards.

"Sure," she grabbed her backpack and made her way over as the other students voices started to rise as they spoke amongst themselves. When she got to the counter she produced her wallet and handed it to her; she opened it and saw the CIA badge and laminated ID for Nicolette Parsons. The girl said in an unnecessarily low voice, "Jason Bourne sent me to find you. We need your expertise on two different matters. Do you know who he is?"

Marta suddenly realized what Aaron was doing; he had gone to meet Bourne. She nodded blankly- just as one of the heavy double doors at the top of the back row opened. The room was similar to a stadium, so the man was a good distance from them still. "That isn't a student…" Marta muttered unnecessarily.

He was wearing an old olive green jacket and blue jeans, but it was his face that told the real story. Even from a hundred feet away Nicky felt his eyes lock on hers and she knew he was a killer. She could tell his eyes were blue even from that distance and it looked like he hadn't showered or shaved in days and hadn't slept in a decade. He was way past the ragged edge, but what gave Nicky the most pause was that she had no idea who he was: either personally or through his file.

He started to bound down the steps as Nicky spun to grab Marta's arm, but she was already gone. Marta grabbed a backpack and a section of iron plumbing pipe that she had hidden behind the counter. She was half way to the door as Nicky reached her and Marta yanked a fire alarm. They fell through the outward swinging fire door in unison and Marta stopped and leaned against the door, closing it.

Nicky saw her lift the odd section of metal pipes and blurted, "Come on, what the hell…?"

Marta dropped the large section of pipe over the door handles, the pipe made a large C shape that fit perfectly over the handles and Nicky understood. She had just barred the door and now if he did follow them he wouldn't be able to get through. Then he would be fighting through a hundred students to go back the other way.

"Very clever, come on…" Nicky grabbed her arm in a vice like grip and held her pistol close to her side with the other. She started to make a right turn, "This way, it's faster…"

"Not with hundreds of students packing the halls…" she pulled Nicky left.

"My car is the other way," Nicky protested.

"Mine isn't. Come on, run…" Nicky relented and they sprinted down the interior corridor that ran behind the classes and Nicky could see the commotion down the side hallways as they were jammed with students.

"Good plan," Nicky said reluctantly. "But don't you ever give up on your cover that fast again. Not ever. You stick with it until your dying breath. I'm your sister Claire visiting from London- same last name. I got here yesterday."

"Nice to meet you Claire. It'll be nice to have a sister, always wanted someone to trade shoes with…"

"Mine aren't any more comfortable than yours, trust me. I'm not sure if that guy is after me or you…" They exited the building and made for Marta's Subaru. "I'm driving," Nicky barked.

"The hell you are- I know the roads. Besides, I can't shoot very well…"

Nicky ran to the passenger door as she still argued the point, "Who said there's going to be any…" the sentence was cut off as Nicky's window shattered from a bullet.

Marta jumped in and had the car moving in less time than it took Nicky to get in and she shot her a glare. "I delivered pizzas for almost a year; it helps to learn the roads. It's uncanny how fast I can get in and get her going now- don't you think?"

"Just drive…" Nicky barked. "You have a gun in here?"

"In the glove box, it's a Glock with four clips."

Nicky holstered her gun and got the one out of the console. She whipped her head around and saw the black BMW in pursuit, "Crap. That can't be the same guy; but they always work alone…"

"Maybe this one's mine and the other yours- this one was at my car?"

"No. The CIA shouldn't be after us, unless it's a splinter group. This is all wrong… We are missing something here." Nicky hit the button for the sunroof to retract and made to turn in the seat as the wheels broke loose and Marta 'drifted' the car around a steep curve on the winding road that led off the campus, "Jesus…"

"I know… I've wanted to do that ever since I spotted that corner. I'd bet his car is slower off the line and on a long track, but faster on a medium length course. We need short streets or highways… got a preference?" Marta looked at Nicky with a maniacal mirth in her eyes; Nicky had expected fear from her or even horror, but not elation. She truly was tired of running and jubilant at seeing her pursuer.

"You're the one that knows the roads," Nicky bellowed as she stood on the seat backwards and slowly started taking shots at the other car as her hair slapped her in the face.

"City it is…" Marta blew past the huge sign for the college campus and drifted the car into a right hand turn without waiting for the light. There were only two cars remotely near hers, but both swerved trying to get out of her way as the BMW tore around the corner after them.

They zigged and zagged through the early evening traffic, Nicky ducked back into the car to change clips. "Try to tap my leg with your elbow if you're going to be going straight for a few seconds, I'll time my shots." Marta nodded as Nicky took the other clips, loaded one and stuffed the other two in her pocket.

"Agent Parsons, you are aware that law enforcement takes a very dim view of high speed shoot-outs that they aren't privy to…"

"We won't be alive long enough to care- just drive. Keep us near the freeway. This guy is pissing me off! Did you see his face- what nationality is that?" Nicky rose up and fired again.

"You mean ethnicity. I didn't see this one…"

"He looks like the guy from Tears for Fears…"

"That bloke that killed himself?"

She fired another volley before ducking in the car again, "Huh? No, I think you are thinking of INXS. He's like black and- something? He looks totally unique. He looks like that guy."

"Oh, the British chap? That's Fine Young Cannibals… Isn't he part Asian?"

"Don't know. What do you call that?"

"Human?" she snapped scathingly.

"Aren't you a geneticist? Isn't that your purview?"

"I do gene re-sequencing. I don't sit around dreaming up politically correct titles for racially crossbred humans."

"WAIT! You do WHAT?" Nicky screamed in her ear as she grabbed the 'Oh Shit' handle to keep from flying out her spider-webbed window as Marta took a tight corner.

"I do gene re-sequencing. I'm a scientist that works with DNA."

"I know what it means- I'm a Doctor too! You did this for the program?"

"Well technically I…"

"Did you do it for the program?!"

"Yes! I was one of the scientists working with the genetically improved candidates."

"Oh, you and I are SO having a chat later about what you did to screw up my guys! Okay, break for the highway."

"Be there in two minutes…"

"This idiot falls back whenever I rise up to fire, he is waiting for us to run out of bullets, or for you to screw up, before he makes his move." Nicky rose up and fired twice more. "Afro-Asian? Afrasian? Blasian? I think we'll go with blasian… He might not be African."

"I feel really uncomfortable with this conversation Agent Parsons. Perhaps we should invite an anthropologist over for a consult."

"Doctor…"

"Yes?"

"Dr. Parsons…"

"Oh by your facetious tone, I thought you were kidding."

Nicky fired again but between both cars swerving and trying to watch the backdrop for civilians very few of her bullets hit the car at all.

"So you're one of those PC people?" Marta squirmed in her seat uncomfortably. "Oh God... really?" Nicky's eyes narrowed, "You're a vegan aren't you?" she asked inquisitorially.

She huffed, "Well not with this lifestyle. Even before this I wasn't very strict about it. My body just never got over the craving for meat."

"I know what you mean… Every once and awhile you just have to have it." Nicky grinned salaciously before rising up and firing another volley. "Damn it…" she swore, ducking back in the car to change clips. "Jason makes this so damn easy… I'm just wasting ammo."

"Should we save some?"

"For what- our funerals? We're not going to fire a whole clip at this guy standing still. I don't see a way clear of this…"

She poked out of the sunroof and this time fired a volley of shots, eight in total, each was a second apart. She saw one hit the front driver's side tire and started to cheer but nothing really happened. "God damn it- BMW run flat…" she began as Marta banked around a corner bringing his driver side window into view. She only saw his face for a second before she saw the muzzle flash.

In that brief moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl as Nicky felt the force of a dozen sledge hammers hit her hands causing the gun to spiral over her right shoulder and towards the hood of the car. Out of nothing but foolish instinct she dove after it; crawling over Marta in the process just as the gun slammed down on the windshield and Nicky fell over the top half of the windscreen.

Marta saw Nicky's destroyed left hand floundering on the windshield as she tried to hold on, her right leg was extended along the inside roof of the car and her left was in between Marta's legs. She saw that she was about to pass a semi floored it, with the agent hot on her tail, drafting her. Marta grabbed Nicky's belt and pulled her into the car; she fell backward and hit her head hard on the door and stopped moving.

Seeing an escape, Marta stood on the brakes just as the BMW was going to squeeze between her and the semi and then whipped the wheel, crossed in front of the semi, and shot down the embankment of an off ramp she had just missed.

Marta missed the semis front bumper by inches, so the chase car had no room to follow and had to slam on brakes, whip around, and go backwards down the interstate to get back to the ramp.

She silently thanked the weather for being in a dry spell as she shot down the dusty ramp, past the shoulder, and got the car back on the blacktop. She quickly went under the overpass, ran a light and zigged down a side street. She knew that he couldn't have seen where she went and tried to get as much distance as possible.

"Nicky! Time to wake up…" Marta her shook leg, still with no response.

She slowed down and forced herself to top off her tank- she always kept it full. She did it so she could buy a car wash ticket from the pump. She drove into it and used the time to examine Nicky. Besides Nicky's blood on the windshield, the car was filthy and the asset would be looking for a car that had been through hell, not a nice clean one. She hit the button for the sunroof and hoped the spider-webbed glass of the passenger window would hold up.

Nicky's head was on the floor board and her feet in the seat. She left her that way so her feet would be elevated, but tried to reposition her slightly. Checking her pulse, she found it to be strong but she had blood all over herself. Her left hand looked like a tangled mess to the point where Marta's stomach lurched when she looked at it even though she was a medical doctor. She tied a loose tourniquet on it and then heard a car horn from behind her.

She waved a hand and then pulled out of the car wash and drove five miles to a camping area that was one of the places Aaron had told her to run to if she had to. She rented a cabin with cash, got a bucket of ice, and pulled as close as she could to the back door before dragging Nicky inside.

She pulled the mattresses off of the bed and lay her on it and quickly put her hands on ice as she got their things from the car and then moved furniture in front of the doors. She tried to set Nicky's hands the best she could. The bones in the ringer finger were showing through the skin, a lot of flesh was missing and it looked like it was only half there. The birdie finger was broken, dislocated at the knuckle, and missing skin but looked far better. The bones in her hand were clearly misaligned to the point of looking alien. Her hands were entirely covered in cuts and shrapnel wounds. Her right hand had some damage including missing the tip of her pinkie finger, but nothing like the left.

"Jesus… did the gun blow up?" she muttered.

Fifteen minutes later, Marta heard a humming sound, it took her a second to realize what it was, and then she frantically started searching Nicky's pockets and found the ringing phone. "Hello?" she offered tentatively.

There was a brief pause before a suspicious male voice asked, "Who is this?"

She gulped reflexively, "Did you send her after me?"

There was a long pause this time. "Is she dead," the man asked in a cold detached tone. A year ago she would've thought that the man on the other end cared nothing for the girl at all, now she knew quite differently. That was the same voice Aaron used whenever June Monroe came up. He loved her, or at least cared for her a great deal.

"No. Is this JB?"

"Yes, is this Dr. MS?"

"Yes. We're safe. She's unconscious. Her hands are mangled. Two different men were after us. She didn't recognize either one. I lost them. If Aaron is there, I'm at site 14. If I get her to a hospital they might be able to save some of her fingers; if not I need to take at least one off, possibly two. She hit her head and hasn't woken up. What do I do?"

"Can it wait until Sydney?"

"No. I have them on ice, but she'll need treatment now and still require some there- to sort out the bones in her hand, or she might lose the whole thing." There was a very long pause and she continued, "I'm not being melodramatic. You ever see an x-ray of someone who held a firecracker in their hand? It's that bad. I can't tell what's what in there. Without proper treatment it could turn gangrenous and rot off."

"Wait there. Don't do anything." The line went dead.

Five agonizing minutes later it rang again and before she could say hello he was speaking, "There is a rugby field at the campground, drive to the middle and leave your headlights on. When you hear a helicopter, flash the headlights until they land."

"How long do I have?"

"I don't know. Go now. Tell them you're her Doctor. Don't leave her side- no matter what. Tell them that she would want to sacrifice the bad rather than risk losing the good. She did that everyday- it was her job. When she wakes up tell her I gave her consent. Anyone asks you anything: It's classified. You understand."

"Ball field, lights, helicopter, save what can be saved without gambling on the rest, blame you, keep my mouth shut, got it." There was a click as the line went dead.

She did as he instructed and a civilian medical helicopter landed and flew them to a hospital on a military base. She was fast tracked through the x-ray and CAT scan departments, then taken back to the chopper and flown to an airfield and put immediately on a plane. They were flown in a medical aircraft to Sydney. Nicky woke up shortly after getting on the plane and had to be sedated.

They operated in flight, which is an oddity. Even though there is a title of in-flight surgeon, they usually just monitor the patients. There was a civilian team of doctors that did the surgeries. She lost both middle fingers on her left hand; they could've saved one of them but it wouldn't have had any moving joints. The surgeon said usually people opt to keep it and then regret it for the rest of their lives as it just got in the way. Remembering what Bourne said she told him to take it off. The end of her right pinkie was missing already and her two middle fingers were dislocated but all three were salvageable.

She had a litany of pins put in the left hand itself, some actually showed through the skin. They couldn't cast it immediately due to swelling, but tried to keep it iced, and they wrapped it so heavily in bandages that it looked comical.

They took military transports all the way to the US. Nicky was in surgery the first flight to Sydney and drug addled from there until Tokyo. There they were joined by another woman, Reina Tanaka whom Marta didn't converse with until they figured out that they were probably bound for the same destination. Even then they both kept it to small talk.

They all ended up in military uniforms, lacking other options. Nicky was the only one with spare clothes, but the flight suit they gave her was easier to get in and out of than her skinny jeans.

They boarded a Delta flight from Honolulu to Los Angles. They were upgraded to first class and many people bought Nicky drinks and things on the flight thinking she was wounded Navy pilot. Marta scolded them about the upgrades until Nicky pointed out that she had been wounded serving the US Military, and Reina really was enlisted in an allied military. Marta folded not wanting to ride alone, but cited Bourne's 'don't leave her side' edict.

Their flight from LAX was a small chartered jet. The three women were early and all sat separate not knowing the flight was full. People avoided the seat next to Nicky, seeing that she was injured until the last two people got on.

Nicky had figured everyone on the flight was with Byer until they boarded. From the way they acted she thought they were father and daughter, although they looked nothing alike. He was tall, rustic, with wavy brown hair; he vaguely reminded her of a young Harrison Ford and from his obnoxious grin she figured on getting very little sleep on his account. The girl had insanely pale skin especially for a high school girl, piercing blue eyes, and was a natural red head. He saw her and Reina with open seats and made a beeline for Reina immediately; who rolled her eyes. Nicky's bed-head was no match for long luxurious Asian hair, full lips, and divinely placed beauty mark; Nicky breathed a sigh of relief.

"…they all do that," the girl said as she stowed everything she had in the overhead bin.

"I'm sorry?"

She laughed, "The sigh of relief… I know it well. He hits you like cheap cologne. I swear- he should sell used cars."

Nicky laughed genuinely and started to get up to let her in. "I'm sorry that was rude…"

"No, don't get up. These things usually have a bar somewhere. Would you like something?"

"No, thank you."

"It's not an imposition; you would be doing me a favor."

Nicky chuckled again, "I'll bite. How's that?"

"Because I'm going to have a Coke and exactly thirty minutes later I'll need to get up to pee. If your bladder is as small as mine I won't have to make you stand up. Otherwise I'll be trying to hold it the whole flight."

Nicky laughed and relented, "Something without caffeine, thank you."

She returned a few minutes later with Nicky's drink and a steaming coffee pot with water and something else in it. "Here take a sip and lay back." She took a washcloth out of the hot water and rang it out.

"Oh, no sweetie. Heat is bad for injuries…"

The girl smiled gently, "It's for your face, not your hands." Nicky started to protest, "Trust me. I can tell you've been traveling, or at the hospital, a long time. You have that 'funky traveled' feeling on your face, but you can't wash it, right? It also was the only thing that helped my mom to sleep on the way back from the Mayo. Trust me; you'll be asleep before we're at cruising altitude."

Nicky nodded and leaned her seat back into Marta's space, "Shouldn't you get in your seat first?"

"No. My dad is about to sarcastically ask me for something with liquor in it. I'll then get him warm milk with two ground up Benadryl to put him to sleep and hand him two Dramamine to keep him from being sick when he wakes up."

Nicky laughed as she put the hot towel on her, "So, you always slip him a Mickey?"

"Yeah! I'm sure he knows at this point, but he sleeps well. He'll be out before we hit the Rockies…"

"Oh stewardess!" he called as if on cue.

She actually made rounds for everyone and somehow acquired everything everyone asked for. People started catching on and tried to stymie her. Someone asked about the in-flight movie and she offered three choices and gave them her iPad with headphones.

Reina threw 'the nod' to Nicky who had finally removed the towel.

"…and anything for you ma'am?"

"I'd love a Fresca…" Reina said with a deadpan expression.

She gave her best McKayla face before inspiration struck and she spun around and dug through the overhead bin and into her makeup bag, grabbed a few things, and trotted to the back of the plane where the bar was.

"That was cruel!" Marta scolded.

"What did she grab? Did you see what she got?" Reina spun around. "She is grinding something. What is she doing?"

Nicky laughed weakly as her latest pain killers kicked in, "I don't know but you'd better at least try it."

"…and tip her for heaven's sake!"

She returned with a clear bubbling fluid that had an orange slice in it. "There's not ambergris in this right? I'm allergic to it."

"No you aren't, your face isn't swollen- well your lips might be…" she said teasingly.

Her eyes narrowed, "Hey, I haven't tipped you yet." Reina cautiously sipped the concoction, smacked her lips, and then sipped it again. "Well it's not a Fresca, but it's damn good…"

"Yeah?" Nicky raised a heavy eyebrow.

"Yeah… Try it."

Nicky reached for it out of habit although her hands were wrapped so heavily that she couldn't have held anything anyway. Ashley took it and held it near her face. Nicky sipped it and nodded, "so what's in it?"

"Diet Sprite, an orange wedge, and a red, orange, and yellow Spree ground up in it."

"Spree?"

She held up a roll of candy, which Reina examined. "Ha! Gotcha! This has sugar, Fresca is a diet drink."

She shrugged and tried to take the drink back, but Reina huffed in defeat and held up a twenty. "I shouldn't ask, but what did you grind it with?"

"A mortar and pestle. They only gave me ten minutes to pack and it was still in my travel bag."

Reina's brow furrowed, "Wh-" Nicky shook her head rapidly, "-ell played, don't eat all of those; I might want a refill…"

"You got me too; Reina could you spot me twenty…" Nicky said slowly getting up to go to the lavatory.

Nicky went to shut the door and saw that the girl had discretely followed her, pretending to count her tips. "I'm an expert helper. If you need me just tap the door twice…" she whispered and Nicky nodded.

When she was finished they walked back together and sat down, "Oh, I'm Ashley by the way. Mostly people call me Ash."

"Nicky… This is Marta and the trouble maker is Reina."

"Oh, she was no trouble."

Reina laughed, "I like her. You said you were given ten minutes to pack? Me too, I don't even know why I'm here or where we are going."

"Me neither. Agent Donaldson knocked on our door at two in the morning and took us to the airport."

"I have no idea either," Marta leaned forward to whisper, and subtlety kneed Nicky in the back.

"Agent Donaldson? A fed?"

"Not FBI…"

"He's with No Such Agency," Nicky said curtly.

"NSA?" Reina squirmed in her seat. "Great, I am going to be shot."

"No you aren't," Nicky said rolling her eyes.

Marta leaned forward, "Why? Who are you?"

"I'm a code breaker and writer, I work with ciphers… You?"

"I'm a geneticist; I work with altering the human genome."

Ashley spoke up, "My dad is a hacker; he hacked thousands of cell phones and got arrested for posting stolen photos of famous people online…"

Reina sat up straight, "He's Allen Goens?"

"Yeah, 'Mr. Skin' awarded him their 'Manitarian of the Decade' award for all the private pictures of starlets he hacked from their phones. I'm such a proud daughter…" she grinned sarcastically.

Reina stared at Nicky, "Uh, I'm a behavioral psychiatrist that works with field agents. Post-traumatic stress, survivor guilt, …amputees, behavioral conditioning, deprogramming and reprogramming… those kinds of things." Marta kicked her chair again. "Stop kicking me. Look- everyone will be briefed tomorrow. I can't do it now, I can't even think straight with all the pain killers."

"Wait, so you know what's going on? You have to tell us!"

"I will, tomorrow."

"But…"

Ashley interrupted her, "Enough. She won't spill. Here, you're going to need these." She put her noise canceling headphones over Nicky's ears.

"Thanks…" Nicky mumbled and was asleep within minutes.