READ ME:

Okay to read the more mature version at Live Journal, google: The Last Man Chapter 14: The Broken Reel Sep. 4th, 2013 at 2:15 AM. It is also over at AO3. I will be adding more Parisian chapters over there as I feel like writing them.

The clean PG-13 version is below. You don't need to read both.

I will also be switching the rating on the Fanfic version from T to MA soon so you'll need to switch your filter setting, or subscribe to find it.

Back in the present:

"So, that's how we first met…" she concluded.

"Wait- What? That's it?! It can't end there! How come I feel like the film reel just broke?"

She smiled coyly behind her glass as she took a sip of her drink. "Okay well there was some foreplay- smoking hot, and then:"

Paris:

He paused abruptly having realized that she was avoiding touching him with her hands, "What?"

"You have to be forceful… They told me that they were going to ask me on my next polygraph if I willingly initiated sexual contact. You have to be aggressive with me; then I've been ordered to go with it- to keep from getting hurt," she panted in his ear.

He reared his head back, looked at her, turned and walked into her kitchen.

She watched him go and quickly looked all around her, as though she were on Candid Camera, "Is this really happening?" she whispered. "Bourne?! OH! I get it…" she smiled gleefully as she retrieved her panties and returned them to there full upright position.

She crept to the corner and peered around it suspiciously, "Okay… I'll play." She ignored the impulse to start outright searching the house for him and proceeded to preform a litany of tasks where she employed grossly over sexualized poses.

She swept the floor in the kitchen and used the dustpan by bending over fully without bending her knees as she shifted unnecessarily from one hip to the other until even the smallest bit of frust was gone. She ate a banana in an entirely inappropriate manner. She flipped through a magazine while laying face down, naked, on the bed. She examined her body in a full length mirror from every lurid pose imaginable, some unknown to even Erin Andrews. She tried on her sexiest clothing; which sadly was the only part of her wardrobe which could be considered neglected.

She walked downstairs and sighed, "Bourne- this isn't fun anymore?"

She frowned, "Shit! Did he really leave?" An idea suddenly dawned on her. "What a fucking asshole!" she fumed as she feinted anger and stormed up the stairs. "You cretin. He wasn't the good anyway… It probably saved me a lot of time; who am I kidding- sixty seconds is more likely."

She stripped as she got into bed, "Right Nicky, sure, throw away your vibrator- you wouldn't want customs to find it: fucking idiot… I guess I'll have to do this the old fashion way…" she cursed as she proceed to masturbate and moan at such an unnecessary volume that a man, in the next building over, screamed at her to shut up.

"Son of a bitch…" she cursed after awhile. "This really isn't fun anymore… Bourne?! Come get me now or never- I'm so over this!" There was nothing but silence. "I have a gun Bourne!" She groaned, "You're kidding me… He left. He really left."

She tried to fake being asleep, like a child staying up for Santa, but of course failed. She fell asleep with just a sheet and was freezing. She remembered shivering but not wanting to get up to: close the window, get dressed, or unpack a blanket.

She woke up the next morning and groaned. "Idiot…" She put a hand on each side of her aching pelvis, "Great… Women can get 'blue balls'. I bet my ovaries are the size of plums… What a jerk!"

Suddenly she realized that she was warm. "Huh?" She looked down and saw that she was wrapped in an old quilt. It was faded, warm, and very soft. It was never something she would have purchased- ever. She sniffed it and it smelled like him. She saw a sunflower on the bedside table with a note that she snatched up, enraged.

Parsons-

You looked cold. "Looked cold?" I enjoyed the show. "What?" I took the rest of the cameras down. "SON OF A BITCH!" I'm really not there right now… Enjoy breakfast.

-Bourne

"Great! We aren't even on a first name basis! Great, just great Nicky! Aaugh," she screamed in frustration.

She stormed downstairs and saw a bag on the kitchen counter that obviously contained the breakfast he had left for her, "Fucking asshole!" Looking around she remembered that she hadn't found a coffee pot yet; Conklin had their old safe-house packed up and shipped here. She knew the bag contained coffee, but she grabbed it and flung it in the trash without looking in it.

She stormed over to the bad coffee shop next door, placed her order, and barked at the barista, [Don't give me that tourist swill again; I will come back there and cut you- bitch don't fuck with my coffee!] The little man did a triple take and saw how angry she was and gave her it for free.

Back in the present:

Bourne had been laughing uncontrollably for several minutes, as he toweled his hair; he had showered as she spoke. She knew some of his laughter was him trying to deal with the days events.

She laughed, "Well I'm glad you're amused. God, I was so pissed! So, that's how we first met…" she concluded.

"You going to reenact your posing in the mirror?"

She blushed furiously, "Nope."

"So, when did we get together?" he asked eagerly.

She smiled slyly behind her glass as she took a sip of her drink, "That wasn't your question Mr. Bourne."

"How much have you had to drink tonight?" he asked, clearly concerned.

"Enough…" she handed him the glass and he put it on the nightstand as she shifted on the bed so that they were both sitting. He brushed her hair behind her ear. They both knew they were filled with lust and apprehension. "Do you want this; I mean are you ready?"

He nodded and suddenly looked tormented, "Malana…" she raised an eyebrow, she had thought he was dwelling on Marie. "She's going to stay with me a long time. I only sat next to her in a briefing for a day and she was one of the three people I've known the best in four years. How sad is that? Two of them are dead now…"

She nodded and placed her goodish hand on his cheek, "That's normal- what you're feeling…"

"…and Khanh Nazari…"

"I should have let you talk to him…"

He shook his head, "No, you were right. He was pissed."

"I know what you're going through. My entire life is like that Jason. I can count the number of people that have ever loved me on one hand- either one!" she laughed.

He inched closer to her and he leaned his head onto hers and their noses brushed. "I can't take anymore." She opened her eyes and saw tears running down his cheeks. "The killing. The death. The constant running. I feel like I'm going to implode. If anything happens to you…"

"I know. I promise- no more secrets. I should tell you everything… In case something does happen to me."

He sighed in utter sorrow, "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Shhh…" she cooed as their lips touched and they kissed gently at first, but it quickly turned frantic. She clawed at his undershirt with her flippers; he pulled it off for her and then followed suit with hers as they moved backwards on the bed. She slid her underwear off as she went, as did he.

She half pulled him up her body and when he made to stop halfway up. She spurred him onward, "Please… I don't need that. Trust me, with our luck someone will come barging in here in about five minutes."

In answer, he moved up her body, giving her goosebumps on the way. He reached over to get his backpack and unzipped it. She tugged on his arm, smiled mischievously, took his bottom lip in her mouth, and bit it gently. His resolve for safety crumbled as she gyrated her hips, nudging him politely.

"Are you going to remember this in the morning?" he breathed.

"God, I hope so."

"I'm serious…"

She pulled away slightly, so she could see his face, "What if I don't- aren't you entitled a memory of us that I don't share?" She blinked several times, her head clearing, "You changed your mind. It's okay… It really is. Come on…" she nodded to the side for him to roll off of her.

Suddenly he surged forward and was in her and she seemed to exhale more air than she was capable of holding, "Oh God…"

She locked her feet behind his knees and wrapped both arms around him as tightly as she could; suddenly he felt as though he was just ensnarled by a huge carnivorous plant and he laughed at the thought. "Why do I feel like I wouldn't be able to pry you off?"

She laughed too, "Hey, you had your chance to run buddy…"

He reached over to the remote and turned the TV off, plunging the room into darkness.

A short time later, eyes were locked in post coital bliss, he asked softly, "Was it always like this?"

She laughed politely and smiled showing more teeth than he knew she had, "No," she sighed. "This was special…" she whispered as she wiped the sweat from his cheek.

"Were we in love?"

Still locking eyes, she whispered, "No." She continued with a halting voice, "I once loved David Webb so much that I would've jumped into a volcano if he asked me to." He started to speak, but she held her one good finger to his lips, "Did he love me? I don't know." She smiled with great warmth, "He went to great extremes to prove that he didn't, but that just proved to me how much he really did…" she kissed him gently.

"…restraining orders are just another way of saying 'I love you'?"

She laughed so suddenly and with such force that she pushed him out of her, "Yeah. It wasn't very healthy… I was a whole boat load of crazy for you. It was very difficult for me… with you…"

"…and Jason Bourne?"

"You're different now. Just like your brother is different. As far as I'm concerned there are three of you. I'm bottling my emotions up and I'm keeping a firm stopper in that bottle this time, until you pull it out. Once the genie is out though, there is no putting it back."

"Fair enough. He did you know… I know he did… How could he not?"

She looked absolutely twitterpated but before she could answer, there was a loud knock at the door. Jason rolled off of her, gun in hand and crept to the door.