Author's Note: Oh, goodness! So sorry for the late update, but it's been a weird weekend. This chapter contains spoilers for my one-shot, "Christmas In Sydney." Hope you enjoy! ~lg

oOo

Jason wasn't able to take Nicky to dinner the next day as planned. He woke early and went on his run, as usual, and had just started dressing after a hot shower when he heard a minor explosion and cursing coming from the kitchen. He yanked his t-shirt over his head as he rushed down the stairs to see Cross glaring at the coffee maker. The scent of electrical burning hung in the air, and the horrifying wallpaper had caught fire and singed the wall and under the cabinet. Cross looked unharmed, however, just irritated that he wouldn't get his coffee. The circuit for the kitchen had tripped, and much of the area was dimmer than Cross liked.

With a deep sigh, the Outcome agent informed Jason that he would stay here and take care of the wiring. Jason helped with breakfast while Cross called an electrician, and he left a bit later, swinging in for coffee before he joined Manuel and Bobby at the job site.

After a long day at work, he returned home to find Cross in a destroyed kitchen. The contents of the cabinets had been stacked in the dining room, and the house felt more like a construction zone than a home. Cross hadn't worried about protecting the linoleum floor as he intended to replace it with hard wood, and he appeared perfectly content when Jason found him on a ladder, removing wallpaper. Bits of the walls had been cut out to get to the wiring, and Jason spotted the backs of several cabinets that had also been destroyed.

Cross turned and watched Jason drop his keys in the basket next to the door. "How'd things go today?"

Jason shrugged. "You know Manuel." He carefully stepped over bits of wallpaper as he surveyed the area. "All talk. . . ."

"No action?" Cross went back to scraping the last of the wallpaper from above the stove. "I should have the noisy stuff done by the time you get home tonight." At Jason's surprised glance, he smirked. "You're taking Nicky out to dinner, right?"

Jason glanced at his watch and stifled a curse. He had promised her dinner. Tugging his phone from his pocket while reminding himself that Cross had superb hearing, he wondered if the "normal" thing to do would be to cancel or go. When Nicky answered her phone, he automatically smiled at the hint of laughter in her tone. "It's me," he said softly as he climbed the stairs.

"Hi!" She started moving things around on the other end of the line, likely clothing based on the rattle of paper and plastic bags. "You caught me before I could call you. I'm running late."

Jason heard Cross curse as he closed the door to his room and lowered his voice. "Actually, I need to reschedule. Cross had an electrical explosion this morning and is still dismantling the kitchen. I kind of. . . ." He floundered. It sounded so easy to explain that he lived here rent-free and felt responsible for helping.

"I understand." Her voice said she truly did and wasn't upset in the least. "Marta and I were just talking about movies, anyway."

Jason smiled at that, something that wasn't planned or even expected. He hadn't had much cause to smile or laugh in recent years and usually only did so for his advantage. But Nicky seemed to bring out the best in him. "Sometime this week, for sure."

"Go work," she said firmly. "I'll be fine."

Jason hung up a moment later and bounded down the stairs. He met Cross's eyes. "Where are we?"

To his credit, Cross didn't question his decision. He calmly launched into his plans now that the plumbing and electric had been done.

Just over an hour later, Jason stood on top of the ladder, yanking the upper cabinets from their anchors as Cross stabilized the massive bit of wood from below. They had graduated from just removing the wallpaper to "Aw, heck, let's just gut the whole place." He could see it meant a lot to Cross and didn't complain. He liked the work. It gave him a productive channel for the energy coiling in his gut, and there was a juvenile pleasure to be had in destroying perfectly good cabinets. At Cross's word, he let go of the rickety contraption and watched it fall apart as it hit the floor.

Cross frowned at it. "Huh. That was easier than it should have been."

Jason had no time to comment on the dry statement. A car rolled to a stop outside, and both men responded the same way. It wasn't a vehicle belonging to one of the neighbors. None of them had that telltale knock that said the car needed oil or the slight squeak to the brakes. As he hopped off the ladder, he glanced at Cross. "You expecting company?"

Cross shook his head, reaching for the .45 both men knew was hidden under the table beside the door. At the same time, Jason slipped his hand around the gun at the small of his back as he moved to peek out the front windows. The tension left Cross's face when feminine laughter was heard, and Jason instantly relaxed as he looked outside. He grinned. "Dinner's here."

Cross opened the door, making no move to hide the gun he still held. Nicky and Marta were walking up the drive, holding buckets of fried chicken and dressed for work. Jason shook his head as Cross put the weapon back in its place while the two women entered the home. Marta ignored him, but Nicky watched curiously, and Jason understood. If they were going to spend any time here, Cross wanted them to be able to defend themselves. It made his respect climb a bit higher.

Nicky met Jason's eyes. "Hope you don't mind us crashing your party. But we thought we'd make dinner."

Cross took one of the buckets of chicken from Marta, truly smiling for the first time that day as he opened it and took a deep breath. "Smells good."

Marta rolled her eyes. "There's a reason we picked KFC." She glanced at Jason. "It's Aaron's favorite."

"Fast food. My favorite fast food," Cross clarified as he looked around for a place to put it. He settled for a corner of the coffee table. "Let me find plates and forks, and we'll eat in the office."

Marta joined him, leaving Jason and Nicky alone for a few moments. Jason found himself unable to look away, surprised at the change in her appearance. When he'd seen her yesterday, her hair had been to the bottom of her shoulder blades and frizzy from over-perming it. Tonight, it puddled on her shoulders, just long enough to curl and touch her upper arm but much shorter. And straighter. She'd dyed it back to the dirty blond he'd known, adding the streaks she liked so much.

She ignored the way he stared at her, stepping carefully into the kitchen. "Wow. You guys really did a number in here."

That snapped Jason back into the moment. He shrugged as he looked around. "When you get Cross started, there's no stopping him."

Cross chose that moment to breeze past with plates, forks, glasses, and serving spoons. "You can call me 'Aaron.' I don't mind."

Jason rolled his eyes as Nicky carefully stepped over the debris and took the plates from Cross. He had developed the habit of referring to men by their last names years ago, before Treadstone. It was a military trait, something that either didn't stick with Cross or that he was able to forget. Aaron, he reminded himself as he followed Nicky into the man's office. Not for the first time, he envied her natural ability with people.

Jason had only been this office once—the day Cross hired him. The room was easily as big as Jason's bedroom, though laid out a bit differently. The large windows on the wall opposite the door looked over the neighbor's garage. Cross had added blinds, explaining that the garage belonged to the neighbor's teen daughter and she liked to be an exhibitionist. The massive desk had been angled to face the door and utilize the natural light from the windows. Matching filing cabinets, a credenza, and bookshelves circled the room, and a sitting area now provided a clean, peaceful place for the group to eat. Cross started to wheel the office chair from behind the desk, allowing Nicky and Marta to claim the two padded chairs while Jason dropped onto the floor. He routinely ate like that at work, so Aaron didn't question him. Instead, he ignored the office chair and also settled on the floor.

As the group ate, they discussed the kitchen. Cross listened closely to both women as they offered ideas for the new look. He seemed to crave Marta's approval especially, though he appreciated the insights that Nicky brought. By the time they finished eating, Marta had agreed to outline her ideas.

Jason stayed in place as the pair left the office. Nicky had picked up on the undertones between the two as well and lingered over a second Coke. He smiled at her, trying to make her feel at ease even though he didn't know what to say.

She had no problems filling the silence. "He's doing this house for her, isn't he?" she asked, referring to Cross and Marta.

Jason nodded. "Yeah." He didn't blame the guy. If Marie was still alive, he might have done the same thing. But there was no need to say that to Nicky. Instead, he focused on a different topic. "When did you come back to the States?"

"About a year after Tangier." She shrugged. "Treadstone was looking for me in Europe. I figured I could stay under the radar here." She picked at nonexistent lint on her jeans. "You were right. It does get easier."

He didn't need an explanation. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be." She shook her hair out of her face. "I made that choice in Madrid."

Jason couldn't argue with her. He leaned forward and met her eyes. "You did good. Staying off the grid like that."

The smile that touched her face seemed at once incredibly familiar and oh-so-pretty. He wanted to see it again, and that surprised him. Instead of thinking about it, though, he helped her gather the remains of their dinner and rejoin Aaron and Marta, who had moved on from brainstorming about the kitchen to actually working on the kitchen.

By the time the women left, they had a plan in place, the debris picked up, and a good education in what women considered essential for food preparation. Jason doubted either of them would forget this evening for a while, especially when he saw Marta squeeze Aaron's hand and agree to dinner on Friday night. So maybe the elephant in the room would be going away soon. Based on the look in Nicky's eyes, she hoped the same thing as well. And that gave him something else to smile about.

oOo

"So." Nicky's voice floated over to Marta as soon as the two women were in the car. It was nearly ten at night, and both were as covered in grime as Aaron and Jason. Nicky started the car. "You and Aaron."

Marta sighed. Me and Aaron. At any other time, it would have been romantic. But not right now. "What about us?"

Nicky shrugged as she drove out of Aaron's neighborhood. "I'm curious. Jason had something similar happen to him while he was running from Treadstone. I kind of wondered if this was the same thing."

"Similar how? He fell in love?" When Nicky nodded, Marta sat back in her seat. "It wasn't like that for me. Not at first."

The silence that followed was oppressive, giving Marta time to put her thoughts in order but also pushing her to explain. "I created him," she nearly whispered. "When it comes down to it, I am responsible for everything Outcome made him do. It was my work and my life to see those men and women as numbers on a page. Not people who put their lives on the line every day."

"What changed?"

"Aaron." Marta propped her elbow on the door, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she talked. She hated thinking about that horrifying time in her life and had pushed it away for so long. While she and Aaron had been on the run, she managed to think about surviving and getting home. Their relationship had been focused solely on keeping the other alive and staying together. Those precious moments when they retired in whatever flophouse, alley, or apartment they could find were priceless memories. Back then, Aaron would hold her while she talked about the house she wanted and, when he settled in for the night, she allowed her mind to fill with daydreams that they would live like that forever. But the reality of what had happened. . . .Dragging her mind back to Nicky's question, she decided it was easier to talk about how her world fell apart than to think about what went wrong with her dreams. "There was a shooting at the lab. Byer and the others got to a coworker and brainwashed him. I survived. Later, they came to my house and tried to kill me."

"But Aaron was there?"

"Yes." Marta smiled as she remembered those terrifying moments. In all of that, Aaron's steadiness had helped her keep moving. "We burned the house and ran. He was looking for chems, and I just. . .I didn't understand. I didn't get what he was telling me until we were in Manila. By then, he was so sick."

"From taking him off the medication?"

"He'd viraled off all of it." She shook her head. "I watched him for a long time, and there were side effects that he had to overcome. Headaches for a time as his body adjusted to not receiving that daily dose of chemicals. Sometimes, he'll have moments when his hearing overwhelms him. But he copes.

"Anyway, they came for him. Sent some other agent after us." Marta closed her eyes as she remembered that chaotic ride through Manila. "Somehow, we managed to escape. I still. . . .There were so many times on that motorcycle that I just thought we were done. But we got out, on a fishing boat, and were able to get lost for a while."

"And that's when it happened?"

"Yeah." Marta sighed. "He'd been shot, and I had a massive case of stiff muscles. But I saw what the freedom from the chems did for him, how he seemed to absorb the sunshine like it was life itself. Things just went from there. We were in Sydney, Australia, before I really realized what had happened. And I thought. . . ." She really did not want to think about this right now. "I thought it was forever."

Nicky didn't comment on the emotion in her tone. "Jason and I knew each other before he lost his memory." Her voice was firm, resolute. So different from Marta's brokenness. "We had a relationship, one that no one knew about. Then, he went off to kill Wombosi, and, when he did come back, he was different. Blank. There was nothing there. But I had my work and my life to rebuild. So I did. Until Madrid, when I had the chance to bury him for everything he'd done. I just. . . .I couldn't do that. So, I helped him. In Tangier, Blackbriar sent an asset after us, and Jason told me I had to run. It wasn't as romantic as your story, to be honest. Do I still care for Jason? Yes. Is there anything there? No. He's not the same man I loved in Paris."

She stopped at a red light and turned to face Marta. "I know I don't really have a grasp on you or Aaron's situation. Not like someone who could say this. But I'm gonna say it anyway. Stop being so stubborn. Let the man know how you feel about him and work out your differences."

"I wish I could."

"Why?"

"He hates the city. It winds him up so tight that he can't sleep, can't eat, can't think." Marta shook her head again. "And I can't leave."

"Why not?" When she shot a glance at Nicky, the other woman calmly pulled into the late-night traffic. "You love him still. It's just buried under all these layers of things you want and things he wants and things neither of you can give up. Would it really be so bad to let everything go for a while to just be with him again?"

"You don't understand."

Nicky hit the brakes so hard that the tires squealed slightly. She pulled off the road and turned on the emergency flashers. "Maybe I don't know your situation, but I know mine. And mine says that I would do anything to have Jason back. Anything. I had a life with Treadstone, a career. A good career! I was doing everything I wanted to do. But you know what? It doesn't matter! If Jason so much as indicated he wanted to be with me again, I would leave Chicago, leave the States, and never think twice if it meant I could have it all back. So maybe I don't understand what you went through. Maybe I don't get all the ins and outs of your relationship with Aaron. But I'm telling you that that man is head-over-heels about you. He's rebuilding that house for you, to make your dreams come true. You'd be a fool not to grab on with both hands and never let go."

Marta blinked at the other woman, surprised at the vehemence in her tone and also shamed by the conviction. They hadn't known one another for more than a day, but Nicky already had a handle on her relationship with Aaron. It was disconcerting but also understandable. She'd been trained to monitor the mental health of Treadstone operatives. Marta supposed that sort of job became part of a person's makeup after a while.

If Jason so much as indicated he wanted to be with me again, I would leave Chicago, leave the States, and never think twice if it meant I could have it all back. Nicky hadn't shouted, but the level of emotion behind those words. . . .At one point, Marta had thought she and Aaron had that kind of love. But everything had changed. What was it? Their freedom? Her job? His need to do something? Or was it deeper? Was it that Marta felt she deserved this job and the big apartment and the city? Was she really that selfish?

Nicky put the car back in gear and drove the rest of the way in silence. At her apartment, Marta bid the other woman a quiet goodnight and slipped into her master bedroom. This room was the size of Aaron's garage. The king-sized bed dominated one wall with a massive four-poster frame and cream-colored bedding broken by embroidered flowers in tones of brown and taupe. It reminded her of Sydney, Australia, of the night she and Aaron confessed that they loved one another. At the time she bought this place, she had assumed that she and Aaron would live here, sleeping between those sheets and rebuilding their lives. But he had needed something different, and she had been unable to give it to him.

But what about now? Quietly preparing for bed, Marta pulled the blankets around her shoulders and curled into a ball in the center of the bed. She wished for Aaron's arms to hold her right now and then realized that she had just confirmed her worst fears. She loved Aaron Cross, but not enough to sacrifice her dreams for him. In that moment, she cried as she fully understood that he needed more than a woman to warm his bed for a night or two. He wanted her, and, for the first time in months, she wanted to give herself to him. Not sexually, though that would eventually follow. But in a way that was much deeper and much more intimate.

Reaching for the phone, she ignored the whisper in the back of her mind that said it was after midnight. She dialed from memory, not needing the too-bright light of the screen to tell her who she was calling. The phone rang several times, and then his sleep-warmed voice came over the line. "Marta? What's wrong?"

Marta smiled. She had loved—still loved—hearing that tone. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

"Oh." He seemed nonplussed by that, and she heard the rustle of sheets as he turned over in bed. She knew because she recognized that slight grunt. "What's on your mind?"

She hesitated. "Would you have dinner with me on Friday?" When he didn't answer for a long moment, her heart fell. "Aaron?"

The sheets rustled again, and he sounded much more awake when he spoke. "I thought we already were."

She sighed and closed her eyes. "No, not like that. Would you come over, have dinner, sit and talk? Like. . . .would you go on a date with me?"

There was another pause. "You sure?"

"Yes." She rubbed her aching head. "Aaron, I know there's a lot we need to talk about, things that you've tried to bring up and that I've ignored. And talking on the phone when we're both exhausted isn't the place—or the time—to do that. But. . . ." She sighed. "I think I'm ready if you are."

"Okay," he agreed after a long moment. "But this isn't going to be a one-time thing, Marta. If you're serious about this, we'll have to set some rules. And some expectations."

"I know." She smiled, the knot in her gut easing even though her heart clenched at the thought that this could still go wrong. "Aaron, I didn't. . . .I'm sorry."

"Hey." His voice had that same soothing tone it had when he panicked after she told him she loved him. "We'll work it out, okay? We'll get through this."

She let his use of the word "we" wash over her. After all this time, he still thought of them as one unit, not two separate people. "Okay."

They hung up a few moments later, and Marta rolled over in bed. She'd asked him out to dinner, so she needed to be the one to make preparations. If she wanted this thing to work between them, she needed to give as much as he had over the months. Now that she was honestly assessing their relationship, she saw where she'd expected Aaron to come running when she called, to be the one to give, to be there for her. Yet, she hadn't done the same for him.

Well, that stops now, she thought firmly. Nicky's little explosion had done wonders for shifting how she thought. If she could have that close relationship with Aaron back, what would she give up? Right now, she couldn't say that she'd give up everything. But she could say she'd try.

And that was all that mattered.

oOo

Aaron sat on the side of his bed, his phone in his hand as he tried to process what had just happened. After Nicky and Marta left, he and Jason had gone for separate bathrooms to clean up and get some sleep. The gutted kitchen would remain that way until the evenings, when the two men could put it back together. Neither one could take any time off on this new job, not if they wanted to stay on their schedule. But they could still use things like the stove and microwave, though the latter now sat on a table near an outlet rather than on the counter.

Aaron had been sleeping deeply for the first time in a week when Marta called. At first, he almost ignored the call until he recognized her ringtone. Then, he panicked. Her call, while inconsequential when compared to the myriad of horrible things that could have happened, had awakened him quicker than almost anything else. She wanted to go on a date. And he had agreed.

Growling at his now-whirling brain, Aaron stood and wandered to the window. The neighbor's Chihuahua was yapping again, making him want to snipe the thing rather than listen. But he stayed in place. If he did decide to sharp-shoot the dog, he wanted more of an excuse than "My not-quite-girlfriend just called."

What did he want from Marta? He needed to consider that now before this dinner with her. Because, if he honestly wanted things to stay the same, neither of them needed to pursue it. But if he wanted things to change. . . .And he did. Aaron knew himself well enough to know that he'd missed what they had before they settled in Chicago. Marta had been his anchor during those first few months, but she had been unable to let go of the job she so dearly loved. If he went into this relationship, he needed her to know that he couldn't take a back seat to her job. Not like this. Yes, her work was important and would change lives. It had changed his life. But he wanted to be first in her life, just like everything he did was to build something she could depend on when things got rough. As much as she needed him to catch her, he needed her there to support him. It went both ways.

He spent the remainder of the night at the window, working out his own expectations and getting ready for what would possibly be the oddest evening of his entire life: his first date.

oOo

The adobe building in the middle of the desert had nothing to indicate its importance. It squatted in mesquite-ridden land, the wind stirring up the red and brown dust that surrounded it. An occasional scorpion or skunk passed by, but the most common visitors were coyotes or jackrabbits. And the dust-coated black car that parked outside.

Inside, however, the place transformed. The walls were still adobe, still thick and insulated. But the main room held dozens of computers, several men and one woman moving in and out of them, careful not to disrupt their colleagues' work. A massive screen on one wall showed a map of the United States, red dots indicating targets they needed to face with numbers next to them. More happened here than just the tracking of one or two men.

Overseeing it all, one man watched closely. Zev Vendel had been an analyst for the National Research Assay Group. When everything fell apart thanks to Aaron Cross, he had managed to get out, to scrounge what equipment he needed and start putting the program back together. Back then, he'd been fascinated with Jason Bourne and his "upgrades." Now, he simply had a mission.

A computer beeped somewhere, and Vendel turned his head. The woman swiveled to meet his eyes. "We have a hit."

"Where?" Vendel moved quickly to her side.

"Chicago." She pulled up the information on her screen. "One of our operatives there caught sight of a target traveling into the city."

"Which target?"

The picture of a woman appeared on the big screen. She was walking through the lobby of a very nice apartment building, a second woman with her who had turned away from the camera. "Dr. Marta Shearing."

Vendel stared at the picture on the screen, a small smile coming to his face. Where Shearing went, Cross was soon to follow. He spoke to another analyst on yet another computer. "Where are we with Byer?"

"Still working." The analyst shook his head. "Sir, with all due respect, we can't just break him out of Leavenworth. We don't have the resources we once had. But he should be here within the next month."

Vendel narrowed his eyes. "Good. Until then, have the asset monitor Dr. Shearing's activity. I want to know everything about her life."

"Yes, Sir."

Vendel smiled at the screen, no longer the naïve analyst he'd been when Ric Byer pulled him in on the project. Back then, he'd seen the science as paramount to a better world. Now, after Cross and Shearing burned his world to the ground and branded him a murderer, he saw the science as a virus. And Shearing was the cause. He intended to eradicate the virus and the cause once and for all.

~TBC