Nicky pulled into Chicago just under twenty-four hours after her phone call to Jason. She'd been restless while waiting for him to "rescue" her with some extra cash, and she'd smiled wearily at the Western Union clerk. She owed Jason for this and resolved to find a way to make it up to him. Wiring money to her, while not unusual for anyone else, was a big step. He didn't just send money from his account, not when people wanted him dead.

But no one wanted him dead. Nicky followed the instructions on her GPS to the address he'd given her. She had driven through the night, stopping only for coffee and gasoline. Now, over-caffeinated and nursing a headache, she thankfully pulled to a stop outside a decrepit three-story house. Three trucks had been parked outside, one of them a battered blue Ford with Cross Construction and Home Restoration on the side, and the sound of tools and men's voices could be heard inside. The front door was open, and she saw movement through one of the big bay windows as she climbed out of her car.

Jason appeared a moment later, wearing jeans, t-shirt, and work boots. He had safety glasses on his face and a tool belt resting on his hips. All in all, he looked utterly normal and very welcome. A quick smile touched his face as he shed the safety glasses, and he trotted down the steps to greet her. Pulling her into a hug, he whispered, "Go with it."

Nicky smiled gratefully and hugged him back. "Easy to do. Thanks."

Jason stepped back, his hands on her shoulders as he studied her face. "You look tired."

"I am tired." She glanced over his shoulder to where another man, about Jason's height, leaned in the doorway of the house. "Thanks for the help, by the way. I've got some of it left over."

"Keep it." Jason shrugged. "Tomorrow's payday, anyway." He turned and slipped an arm around her waist, and she suddenly understood the reason for the hug. This was a construction site and, while their observer seemed content to keep his distance, other men weren't. By appearing to be Jason's girlfriend, she gained a level of respect.

As they walked toward the man in the door, Jason murmured, "What's your name this time?"

She chuckled at that. "I'm Nicky," she said just as quietly. "You said we could come home."

Jason's eyes roved over her hair, and he nodded. Then, he faced the guy watching them. "Cross, this is Nicky Parsons. Nicky, Aaron Cross."

Cross shook her hand. "Pleasure, Ms. Parsons." He eyed Jason. "Until yesterday, I wasn't sure where you were. Tried looking, but. . . ."

She made sure to meet his eyes and was surprised at what she saw. This man was an operative, just like Jason. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cross."

He snorted. "Just Aaron." He motioned over his shoulder. "You can come in or get some rest."

"As much as I'd love to sleep right now, I need to walk around for a bit." Nicky ignored the way Jason laced their fingers together. It's just a cover, she reminded herself. But a part of her heart didn't want to listen. "Do you mind if I look around?"

Aaron shook his head and, after leading her inside, introduced her to Manuel and Bobby. There were several other guys working nearby in the massive living room, but the house captured her attention. It looked like a mini-castle from the street, complete with the rounded corners common in Victorian homes. Hardwood floors needed restoration, as did almost everything else. But, based on the structure she saw, it would be beautiful when finished. Aaron happily answered her questions about the home, showing a deep understanding of restoring old things, and she was suddenly grateful he'd found Jason. While still an operative and watching her every move, Aaron was settled. She paid careful attention to how he carried himself and what he said—or didn't say—and knew that, though he still had his issues, this guy would be one of the best men to understand Jason's particular brand of neuroses.

Finally, he led her back to the main room, where Jason was bent over a table saw, working with Manuel. "It's nearly lunch time, so why don't we take you to where you'll be staying?"

Nicky smiled at Aaron. "That sounds great." She hesitated. "You're sure your friend won't mind?"

He seemed slightly startled that she knew he'd made arrangements with a friend. "Marta's looking forward to having you around," he said softly. But something in the way he hesitated told her that might not be entirely accurate.

The lunch break came a few minutes later, and Jason tucked himself into the front of her Ford Focus, watching their surroundings as she followed Aaron through Chicago's lunch rush. "It's different," he said suddenly. When she frowned, he pointed. "The hair."

Nicky touched the permed blond waves. "It's changing back to my normal color soon."

He didn't say anything, but the way he studied her made her want to shift in her seat. She glanced over her shoulder, changing lanes when Aaron did so. "This person I'm staying with? Marta?"

Jason turned to watch Aaron's truck. "She's Cross's girlfriend, I think. Things aren't that good between them, but I haven't asked."

Nicky picked up the unspoken message. Jason still had issues with the death of his own girlfriend, Marie Kreutz. "I won't mention anything."

The rest of the ride passed quietly, with both of them neither comfortable nor uneasy. Jason was so different from what she remembered, and she didn't need to remind herself of that fact. It was obvious in how he leaned wearily on the door and closed his eyes. Nicky glanced over again as they parked in the garage of a high-rise apartment building. "Still have headaches?"

Jason blinked his eyes open. "They're worse at night."

A moment later, Aaron Cross appeared beside the car and put an end to the conversation. As Nicky slowly climbed out, he started explaining how he and Marta had evaded the Joint Special Operations Command version of Treadstone until they managed to bring everything down. The way he talked about her, with respect and a tinge of affection, told Nicky more than he'd intended. He meant his explanation to be concise and factual. It came out as such, but she had been trained to notice the emotion behind the words. And his unspoken emotions said he was head over heels about Dr. Marta Shearing.

The good doctor's apartment overlooked Lake Michigan. Nicky stayed close to Jason as they rode the elevator to the correct floor, seeing the dark circles under her eyes in the polished brass of the walls. It also gave her an opportunity to study both men. Aaron leaned against the back wall, at ease to anyone who didn't know what to look for. But his tailored leather jacket and jeans hid at least two guns, and he probably had several knives on him. His hands, while calloused from his work in the construction trade, were also deadly weapons. Jason, who wore his t-shirt untucked, was also armed. Nicky had spent years around men like this, and they didn't really unnerve her. What did was the security camera in the elevator and the fact that, while they glanced at it, neither man seemed to duck away from it.

By the time Aaron knocked on Dr. Shearing's door, Nicky was ready to collapse. The adrenaline brought on by her arrival in Chicago had faded, leaving her almost weaving on her feet. She needed sleep after the hours of caffeine and driving. Not to mention the residual fear of being discovered and hauled back to Washington State. But no one had stopped her or asked any questions, so she prayed the police would lose the trail as Nicky reemerged from hiding.

A tall brunette answered Aaron's knock within seconds. She was about an inch shorter than Nicky, but she had that slender look of a woman who spent years on the run. Aaron quietly introduced both guests, giving Nicky and Jason the chance to examine her and her home. Dr. Marta Shearing did her own assessment, her eyes sweeping over their forms and lingering more on Jason than Nicky. She watched him carefully as he peeked down the hallway that led to the right of the front door and around the massive living/dining/entertainment room.

Nicky did her own inspection. The apartment was beautiful. With vaulted ceilings throughout the entire place, floor-to-ceiling windows, and track lighting, it was warm and comfortable without feeling crowded. The front door opened into a small entryway that widened into the multipurpose room. The kitchen was just to the left, a huge area with dark wood cabinets and stainless steel appliances that made the woman in Nicky want to settle immediately. She'd had such a tiny place for so many years that the sheer luxury astounded her.

Hardwood floors in the same dark shade as the cabinets caught the sunlight that came in the windows, the view of Lake Michigan breathtaking. The furniture was an interesting mix of modern and vintage, dark wood and cream upholstery blended with country blue and rich red accents. It didn't feel too patriotic, though, and the warm tan walls softened anything that seemed too harsh. Two hallways led off either side of the great room, and Nicky glimpsed a large bathroom with marble tile and gleaming fixtures. The other hallway likely led to yet another set of rooms.

Turning to her hostess, Nicky smiled. "You have a beautiful home, Dr. Shearing." She meant every word. While Jason spent his time staring out the window, transfixed with the view, Nicky took another appreciative glance around.

Her hostess smiled. "Thank you. And call me 'Marta.'"

Nicky nodded. "I'm Nicky." She blinked, noting the grittiness in her eyes. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

Marta sent an uncertain glance toward Aaron, one that told her guest she wasn't too keen on having two former members of Treadstone in her home. "Your room's this way." She headed down the hallway Nicky had noted earlier.

Jason almost followed, but Nicky gave him a quick shake of her head. She caught Aaron watching their interactions and knew Jason's boss had a better grasp on what Jason felt than she did. Part of Nicky wanted to pick the man's brain, to learn why he offered Jason a job and what motivated him to seek out another operative who could be volatile and dangerous. But she knew she wouldn't get anywhere. Men like Jason and Aaron opened up in their own time and way. The other part of her just wanted to collapse and sleep for a week.

Marta led her into another massive room. The vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows continued in here, but curtains obscured the view. The room was painted the same tan as the rest of the apartment, with the same hardwood floors and blend of furniture. Cream-colored rugs offered a bit of softness to the floor, and the queen-sized bed was luxuriously made up with brown and pink bedding. The bedside tables each had pendant lamps hung over them, and a chair and ottoman formed a sitting area in one corner. The rest of the floor was clear save for a large closet and dresser with a huge mirror. Nicky didn't need the mirror to tell her she looked pale and exhausted.

Marta shrugged from the door. "It's not much, but. . . ." She motioned toward the hallway. "The bathroom is out here, and you're welcome as long as you need. I'm off today, but I'll be working the rest of the week."

Nicky realized she hadn't said a word except in greeting. "This is fine, Marta. It's. . . ." Her voice trailed off. How did she explain that her apartment in Seattle had only been about a fifth of the size of this one? Instead, she offered another tired smile. "I really do appreciate you letting me stay."

Marta stared awkwardly before sighing. "You're the first guest I've had. But when Aaron called. . . ." She met Nicky's eyes. "I understand."

Nicky didn't need to say anything else. Marta left her alone, and Jason took her spot at the door. He glanced around. "You're okay?"

Nicky nodded. "I'm fine, Jason. I just need some sleep."

He stood awkwardly in the doorway before rapping his knuckles against the frame in a motion that must have been picked up since she'd known him. "I'll come by later. Maybe we can. . .I don't know. Go to dinner?"

A genuine smile broke out on her face. "Make it tomorrow evening. I've got to rest and get used to being here first."

Jason agreed with a smile and nod before he left. Once alone, Nicky dove for her bag and the shower, nearly groaning in relief as the hot water pounded the tension from her shoulders. She'd been more nervous over this meeting and transition than any of them. She believed Jason when he said Treadstone and the other programs had been taken down permanently, but that paranoia wouldn't leave her alone. She'd seen hints of it in Marta Shearing's eyes and knew that the good doctor could be a great friend to have. . .if they could get over their initial wariness of one another.

Within thirty minutes, Nicky was face down in the huge bed, soundly sleeping for the first time in days.

oOo

Marta watched Jason head to Nicky's room, giving the man a wide berth in the hallway while kicking herself for it. He obviously cared about Nicky, whether romantically or otherwise, and she knew what that level of attraction meant. Men like Jason and Aaron didn't just let themselves fall for anyone.

Thinking of Aaron made her want to both smile and cry. They'd had their disagreements over the last week, primarily centering around Jason and the distance between their homes. Marta could not leave the city, not with her projects at work. But Aaron had been wound so tightly that the only way he stayed sane was to get out of the city. It was a separation that they couldn't compromise on, and it strained them in new ways every day.

Now, Aaron puttered in her kitchen, having helped himself to a glass of water while she'd settled Nicky. Their unspoken rule—that they had free reign in the other's home—was sometimes annoying when she found him waiting for her with a freshly cooked meal. At other times, like now, she was grateful he had something to do besides stare at her. She didn't think she could handle Aaron's scrutiny right now, not when she was on edge and nervous about the two other people in the house. Instead of joining him in the kitchen, she headed to the windows that had transfixed Jason and looked out. Behind her, Aaron set the glass in the sink with a telltale clunk and moved across the room. She heard every step and knew he took care to make his footsteps obvious to her. If he'd wanted, he could have easily just "appeared" at her side without warning. "Thanks," he said softly, almost directly in her ear.

She turned to him, trying for a direct glare in spite of the minute tremor that went down her spine when he spoke. She always reacted that way when he whispered in her ear, and he had often used it to his advantage. Even now, she saw how it thrilled him that the sound of his voice could have such an impact on her. His gray-blue eyes met hers, though, without any hint of ulterior motive. "Aaron, you brought Jason into your home. I know she's not a civilian, but she's not an operative, either. And if you can have Jason Bourne in your house, I can give his friend a place to stay for a while."

He smiled at that. "I owe you," he said softly as Jason reappeared. Turning from her but not stepping back, he spoke in a normal tone. "Everything good?"

Jason nodded and turned to Marta. "Thank you, Dr. Shearing."

She couldn't stop the warm smile that escaped at his awkward stance. It seemed as if he didn't quite know how to accept kindness from anyone. In that moment, Jason Bourne ceased to be an operative and simply became a man who had nowhere else to go. "She's welcome as long as she needs."

The two men left a few moments later, Aaron whispering a promise to take Marta to a nice dinner on Friday. As the door closed behind them, she drifted into her kitchen to put the glass he'd used into the dishwasher. Then, she made her way to the opposite end of the apartment from Nicky's room and opened her office. The three-bedroom apartment was a splurge, she knew, but after living in a rundown old house before Manila and then the hovels she and Aaron had stayed in after the Philippines. . . .She felt it was deserved. She spent the rest of her afternoon typing up results from her latest experiments and preparing her findings in case the higher-ups wanted her to brief them.

Just after four that afternoon, Marta heard someone moving around the rest of her house. For just a moment, she froze. Then, she saved her work. She found Nicky standing at the windows, wearing fresh clothing and looking more rested than previously. She spoke softly, taking care not to spook the other woman. "Would you like some coffee?"

Nicky turned and smiled. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."

Marta went to the kitchen and started the coffee maker, putting out two cups, coffee creamer, sugar, and some cookies. She was starting to get hungry herself, so she knew Nicky was probably starving. Searching for a topic of conversation to bridge the gap between the two of them, she failed miserably until Nicky fixed her coffee and leaned against the counter. The blond woman met her eyes. "So, not Treadstone?"

Thankful to have that topic thrown out, Marta leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen. "No." She sipped her coffee. "I worked for Sterisyn-Morlanta on a defense project called Outcome."

Nicky frowned. "I think that one was after my time."

"What exactly did you do for Treadstone?" For some reason, being able to openly talk about the programs that made Aaron and Bourne who they were was a relief. Marta didn't know Nicky, but the other woman seemed direct. She could appreciate that.

"I coordinated field logistics in Paris when Jason went off the grid, and I monitored the mental well-being of operatives in the field." Nicky's tone said she was very educated and very well-trained. "After Jason and Tangier, I just. . . ."

Marta understood. "I was a virologist. Still am," she admitted softly. "Outcome was a beta-program, based on Treadstone but with deeper issues. We had figured out how to. . .upgrade. . .the human body through genomic targeting. To use virus and pills to create stronger, faster, smarter operatives." She shook her head, the residual guilt of her time at Sterisyn washing over her again. "I never questioned it. I thought I was doing the right thing. It took Aaron to help me see what was happening."

Nicky listened, sipping at her coffee and nibbling on one of the cookies. She frowned when Marta's words trailed off. "So, Aaron's been upgraded? How?"

"I won't get into the specifics." Marta smiled. "Aaron wouldn't mind, but it's not my story. The basics of it is that he's been physically and cognitively upgraded. While Jason Bourne has years and training on his side, Aaron has strength and agility. I watched him take out an entire hit squad that came to my house when we met. He doesn't talk about his work for Outcome often, but he was sent on some of the toughest missions, and it's all because of what I did to him."

"And these upgrades are permanent?"

"Yes." Marta set aside her coffee cup. "It wasn't easy. We used virus to target the specific genomes that needed 'fixing.' And taking him off the medication. . . .The only way to make those upgrades permanent was to inject him with live virus. He nearly died both times."

"Both times?"

"We—Outcome—did it once with the physical side of things without his knowledge." Marta wrapped her arms around her waist, remembering that first conversation on the side of the road when she'd told Aaron the "kitchen" for the chems was in Manila. "I did it the second time at his request."

"Why?" Nicky also set aside her coffee, reaching for another cookie. "Why not let him go back to the way he was before? Or was that not an option?"

"Not for Aaron."

For a long moment, the kitchen was silent as the two women studied each other. Then, Nicky spoke. "In Treadstone, we just brainwashed them." She chuckled mirthlessly. "We took soldiers—men who were already physically trained—and put them through things no human should have to go through. It wasn't perfect, but it was effective. Until Jason went off the grid. We didn't even know what had happened to him for a time, and then he turned up with no memory of who or what he was. He just. . . .He was completely blank."

"And now?" Marta asked. Part of her—the scientist—wanted to study Jason Bourne and see if there was a way she could help him. After all, Outcome with all of its failings had still given Aaron the chance at a life beyond state homes and therapists.

"I don't know him now," Nicky said bluntly. "The last time I saw him was in Tangier. Almost three years ago."

Marta nodded. "That's the same time that hit squad came to my house."

"They were cleaning up." Nicky straightened. "I got caught in it and couldn't let Jason go on his own. Not when I could help him."

"Why?" Marta supposed it was a fair question since Nicky had done her share of prying. She wasn't prepared for the way the other woman suddenly glanced away.

"I cared," Nicky said softly. "Maybe too much."

In that moment, Marta realized the common ground she had with Nicky Parsons. Both of them were women caught up in programs and evils bigger than they realized, working with men they loved but couldn't seem to connect to, and trying to do everything to help those men. She decided to change the subject before either of them became too upset. "So, are you up for going out, or do you want to order in?"

Nicky's eyes slanted her way, a grin coming to her lips. "I'd love some good pizza." Her hand went to her hair to run through the blond curls. "And a good hair dresser if you know of one who doesn't need an appointment."

Marta reached for her phone. "I've got a friend—wife of someone I work with. She can probably fit us in on short notice."

The two women spent the evening getting pampered, Marta insisting on paying for manicures, pedicures, and facials. Nicky had her hair dyed back to her natural color and straightened from the perm she'd put in it eight months ago. Then, they went for pizza and ended up laughing as they shared stories of their time on the run. By the time they returned to the apartment, they'd found their footing with one another. And Marta felt like she'd found a friend.

~TBC