Author's Note: First of all, let me apologize for the late posting. As I've said in many of my review replies, I've been pretty sick. Now that I'm getting back on my feet, I'm back to writing and posting. Also, there's a part in this chapter where I realize that, realistically, there should be a lot more profanity. As I personally do not use profanity either in my daily life or writing, I'll leave it up to the reader to fill in what he/she thinks is necessary.

Lisa: Thank you for your review! Having Aaron and Marta on the right track is a relief, honestly! I can get on with the rest of the story. :) Which I'm very glad you're enjoying!

That said, I hope you all enjoy! ~lg

oOo

The Paris night was quiet as Jason stared at the ceiling. He'd been to South Africa this time, hunting down someone suspected of financing 9/11. The attack on American soil was still fresh in everyone's minds, and even Treadstone had been put to work tracking and eliminating threats to the United States. Jason knew a few of those threats were more political than military, but he did his job either way.

His latest mission had been one of those questionable ones. He had arrived in his spot, set up his nest, and waited with a long-range rifle. The first time he saw the mark, the man had been with his wife and kids. And that made him think. Would he ever look that happy? Much to Conklin's dismay, he held off completing the mission until the man was alone, refusing to let the children be left with that memory of their father. When he returned to base in Paris, he reported in and immediately came here: a safe house he'd set up without Treadstone's knowledge.

The sheets rustled as the woman next to him shifted in her sleep. Jason looked over, enjoying the absolute trust she placed in him. When he first met Nicky Parsons, he had seen her as a necessary—if disliked—part of his job. But she had become so much more. Conklin didn't know about their relationship as it would violate several unwritten but very enforced rules. Falling in love was treated just as severely as refusing a direct order, and Jason had never refused an order. If he was told to break ties to Nicky. . . .He didn't want to think about how he'd react in that case.

Yes, he had fallen in love with her. As he watched the moonlight play over her bare shoulder, he wished he could have what his target had. But with her. The house, the kids, the obvious love that shone through everything they did. . . .To have that with Nicky would make his life complete.

Jason snapped out of the dream, instantly wide awake and panicking. He rarely dreamed about quiet moments, and Marie usually dominated those dreams. Why would Nicky invade his dreams now? Was it because of their dinner? Because he really did care about her? Or was this something more, something from his past?

Pushing back the covers, Jason rose and went to the bathroom. After splashing cold water on his face, he stared at himself in the mirror. It was difficult. . .for me. . .with you. Those words had haunted him and made him wonder what she meant. Was she referring to a relationship the two of them had shared, one that he no longer remembered?

Giving up on going back to bed, Jason dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, pulling his running shoes on in a quick move. He crept downstairs, barely making a sound as he slipped out the front door. Aaron being who he was, he likely knew Jason had left the house, but Jason trusted the other man to give him space. He needed to think, but thinking was getting him in trouble.

The pounding of his steps on the pavement managed to clear his head after several miles, but he still ran. It would make for a long day, but he thankfully only had work around Aaron's house, not his job. He could step back if he needed, not that he would. Life was still a struggle for him, and taking Nicky to dinner had somehow helped in that. It gave him another person who had been in Treadstone, someone else who understood how the program operated. He and Aaron had never discussed their respective issues or programs in detail, so he couldn't be certain that Outcome was the same.

Circling back to the house, Jason ended his run just before dawn. He slipped back into the house and upstairs, climbing into a hot shower to wash the sweat from his body. As the water pounded on his shoulders, he decided that he would learn what he and Nicky were to one another. He just needed to know the best way to do that.

oOo

Chandler's entire perspective on his mission changed with the revelation that Shearing and Aaron Cross were still involved. Not that he hadn't expected it, but he'd taken precautions to avoid spooking the good doctor. Having Outcome 5 realize he was there. . .it added a new level of danger that, after he reported to Vendel, made the job that much more satisfying.

He knew well who Outcome 5 was and the man's capabilities. In the three years since Cross and Shearing escaped the kill squad sent to her house, Cross had redefined his place in life. "Outcome 5" became less of an impersonal designation and more of a name only whispered in intelligence circles. Lately, it had become as synonymous with trouble as the name "Jason Bourne," another man Vendel planned to catch if he ever turned up. The remnants of NRAG had known that tracking Shearing would lead them to Outcome 5, but Chandler had hoped it would take a bit longer. He didn't need his operation blown simply because Aaron Cross got spooked. A spooked asset was a dangerous asset, and Chandler required calm and assurance to do his job correctly.

The day after Shearing's dinner with Cross, Chandler rented an apartment in a building adjacent to hers. He would have to be careful from now on to avoid startling her, and distance gave him the opportunity to truly get a handle on her life. From his new apartment, he could use his equipment to see directly into hers. He spent the day "moving into" his new space and setting up surveillance gear. His telescope and rifle went next to the window, computer and tech on the table, personal items in the bedroom. The place was bigger than he needed, but it afforded him the perfect vantage point. And, if the time came, he'd have a clear shot. Not that Vendel would order a sniper hit. The man might be bitter, but he was no killer. Byer, on the other hand, had no qualms with the morality of their missions.

With everything in place, Chandler settled behind his telescope. Vendel wanted to know everything about Marta Shearing's life, and it was Chandler's job to find out what her weaknesses were. He was determined to have a plan to eliminate the threat of Outcome 5 and Jason Bourne by the time Byer returned to freedom. And, if Chandler happened to enjoy the process, then he was just doing what he had been trained to do.

oOo

On Saturday, Aaron and Jason finished replacing the hardwood floors that were destroyed by the linoleum in the kitchen. They moved from that to installing the lower cabinets and then promptly collapsed for the weekend. After making a quick dinner, Jason crawled into bed completely and satisfyingly exhausted. He slept late on Sunday, allowing his body the rest it craved and enjoying the lack of dreams of any kind, and then rose to find Aaron sitting in the back yard and drinking coffee. He joined the other man, dragging a chair over to the shade of the house. The neighborhood was quiet, the Chihauhua that kept them up at night silent, and the morning cool. It was a peace that Jason had not known in a long time.

The back yard was completely different from the rest of the house. The sliding glass doors in Cross's dining room led to a patio with a grill and porch swing. The back had another patio, one that Aaron had used to set up exercise equipment under the roof, and several garden lounge chairs. Both Aaron and Jason leaned back on the chaise lounges, their feet propped up and the sun starting to ease over the peak of the house. Jason ironically noted that Aaron had slipped off his shoes and now curled his toes in the sun. It was so normal and mundane that he almost laughed.

Instead, he nodded toward the building in the rear corner. "What's that?" he asked as he studied the L-shaped structure a little larger than the garage. It was crammed into the yard, almost touching the house, with a path leading around the side of the main house and to the driveway. "Shed?"

Cross shook his head. "Guest house." He pushed himself to his feet and shoved them into sandals, motioning for Jason to follow. "Once I finish the kitchen, this is my next project."

The guest house surprised Jason. It was a two-room affair consisting of a main room and three-quarter bathroom. The ceilings were vaulted with exposed wood beams, and the floor looked like it would refinish beautifully with a distressed feel. The building, while old, was structurally sound and had obviously been somewhat maintained. But the fixtures and cabinets in the kitchen area were outdated, and the wear and tear could be seen. At first, as he noticed all the details, Jason wanted to scoff at himself. Then, he figured it was only natural considering what he now did for a living.

As he wandered into the bathroom, Jason thought about his situation. After two weeks, he felt as if he'd begun invading Aaron's home. He wasn't ready to be on his own yet, not with the dreams just starting up and the residual energy and adrenaline building in his body. He needed another person close, and he couldn't just rent an apartment. His neighbors wouldn't understand why he woke up shouting some nights, why he needed to take midnight runs, why he hesitated to answer the door because he was ensuring his weapon was loaded and ready, why he always checked every room when he first arrived. . . .The list went on. Even in a "safe place," those instincts would take years to overcome.

The guest house gave him a different option. It needed a lot of work, but it was a project Jason could sink his teeth into, so to speak. He already had ideas running through his mind, thanks to Aaron's insistence that everyone contribute to the design of a house, and he liked what he saw. But he needed to let himself consider the consequences. Cross had offered him a place to stay, rent-free, until he got on his feet. Would he offend the man if he asked to rent this place? Or would it be a relief? Jason couldn't answer the questions, but he decided talking them over with Nicky might be best. Why her opinion mattered was a question he left alone for now. Just having her close was all he needed right now.

oOo

Aaron watched the expressions passing over Jason's face as the other man surveyed the guest house and understood. Both of them were independent, accustomed to getting by on their own. Living in the same house, while comfortable, was still a strain. He appreciated Jason's help with the kitchen, and the Treadstone agent had picked up everything Aaron had taught him effortlessly. But he also knew the energy, the tension, the need to release adrenaline that built up. It had resulted in some explosive disagreements with Marta when he hit that stage, but Jason had no one like that with whom to argue. And Aaron didn't think Nicky would volunteer for the job.

Leaving Jason to his thoughts, Aaron returned to his yard with a sigh. This—a house in the suburbs where he could take a Sunday to enjoy his back yard—was what he'd wanted for himself and Marta. Thinking of her put a smile on his face, and he wondered if she'd like to come out for lunch. The weather was perfect for a barbecue, and he could make a quick trip to the store for steaks.

Making an instant decision, he tugged his phone from his pocket and dialed. Marta was as early a riser as he, so she answered immediately and agreed before he even got the full request out of his mouth. He made sure to tell her to bring Nicky if the other woman wanted to come, and they signed off a few moments later.

Bourne finally came out of the guest house, that same thoughtful expression on his face. "That's a nice place."

Aaron nodded as he picked up his coffee cup and realized his drink had gone cold. "One of the reasons I bought the place." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Anyone I want to let stay with me might not like being in the main house all the time."

Bourne nodded once, but he didn't say anything else. Aaron left him to his thoughts, refreshing his coffee and looking critically around his house. The mess would have to stay for another day. He'd been working almost nonstop and obviously needed to take the day to enjoy his friends. Then, he smiled. He could say he had friends.

In his line of work, that meant a lot.

oOo

By Monday morning, Aaron felt completely refreshed by the weekend. Yes, he and Jason had put in a good deal of work on the house, but he'd also done almost nothing work-related on Sunday. Having Marta and Nicky over seemed like the logical thing to do that afternoon, and they'd sat in the back yard, smelling the grill as Jason insisted on cooking the steaks and laughing like old friends. There had been a bit of tension between Jason and Nicky, but nothing that kept them from relaxing. In the end, the two pairs had found the time to share more of their stories. Aaron had kept an eye on Marta during the whole thing, but she exhibited none of the reticence she'd shown during the Senate hearing and subsequent trials.

All in all, it helped the two couples understand one another much better. Jason skirted around the topic of Marie, mentioning her in passing. "Before Marie" or "after Marie died" were common ways for him to tell time and, until their little cookout, Aaron had not known that Jason Bourne didn't remember everything about his life. Now that he did, it helped him understand the other man a bit more.

Just before lunch on Monday, Aaron and Manuel had gone to the truck to retrieve some twelve-foot-long boards Aaron had picked up over the weekend. The two were just about to heft them onto their shoulders and cart them inside when the scuff of a shoe and the telltale sound of jeans dragging the ground caught Aaron's ear. He turned, a frown in place, as five African-American men swaggered onto the property. He knew without looking that Manuel had tensed, and that would have been enough to set him on edge had he not already been concerned. Waving at the ex-con to tell him to stay put, Aaron straightened as the five newcomers acted as if they were just going to walk in and take over the place.

Seeing the gang signs and recognizing that at least three of them were carrying firearms, Aaron moved to intercept. "Hey, guys. Can I help you with something?"

Their leader, a kid not more than twenty-two and cocky, invaded Aaron's space, glaring down at him from at least six-feet tall. "Yeah. Get outta da way."

"Sorry, can't do that." Aaron met the kid's eyes. "This is an active construction zone, and only authorized individuals are allowed in for safety sake." He sensed movement behind him and knew that the rest of his crew had seen the confrontation and had come to watch.

"I said, get outta. Da way," the kid replied, moving to push past Aaron.

"Whoa, hold on." Aaron put out a hand to stop him. "I can't just let you walk in there. Why don't you tell me what you want, and we'll sort this thing out here."

"What we want?" The leader snorted, and the rest of the group cackled as if it was the funniest thing they'd heard. "What we want is for da white trash biker who thought he could tell me what to do to get out here. We got a lesson to teach him."

From the description, Aaron knew the kid was talking about Bobby. He glanced over his shoulder, looking for the big biker, and the kid made his first mistake. He put his hand on Aaron's shoulder. His second mistake was trying to shove the Outcome agent out of the way. Aaron instinctively elbowed the kid in the gut, doubling him over, and followed the move with a firm punch to the nose. He spun on his heel, bringing a ridge-hand into the kid's solar plexus, knocking him down and out of the fight.

Jason, who had watched from the sidelines, rushed forward to help as the other four defended their leader. Two of them drew guns from the smalls of their backs, and Aaron caught one of the firearms and wrenched the guy's arm around until he heard the bones in his elbow give way. He shouted and let go of the gun. A quick jab to his solar plexus and a punch to his head knocked him out cold. Aaron heard a gunshot go off, though it sounded harmless enough, and knew that Jason had his fight under control. He met the oncoming attacker with ready hands, using the guy's weight to bring him down on his knee and knock the breath out of him. As the guy wheezed, he put the kid in a choke hold and held him until he was unconscious.

Breathing out a sigh of relief as the adrenaline drained out of his system, Aaron glanced over at Jason, who had two guys at his feet. "They alive?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah." He blew out his own breath. "I feel better."

Aaron smirked at the muttered words, understanding what Bourne meant. After so long, the adrenaline built up until agents either went crazy or found outlets for them. "Remind me, and we'll spar a bit later." He looked around, seeing the neighbors peeking out of their homes and already hearing sirens. "Cops'll be here soon."

Jason also surveyed the area. "We've got plenty of witnesses."

Not responding to that, Aaron spun and marched into the house. The members of his crew who couldn't fit out the door behind Jason had crowded the windows, and he found Bobby slinking away from one of them. Grabbing the guy's shirt, he slammed the biker against the wall in full view of the rest of his crew. "What did you do?!"

Bobby's eyes widened. He'd already been taken down once by Aaron and hadn't needed the demonstration out front to prove just how lethal his boss could be. "Nothin'!"

Aaron growled, carefully editing what the leader had said. "Those gang members wouldn't have come knocking, looking for a 'white biker' if you hadn't done something. What. Was. It?"

"I. . .I just stuck up for someone. That's it!" Bobby recovered his composure, and Aaron let him stand up straight. "I went out with some buddies of mine on Friday. You know, payday. We were at this place when this group of kids started harassin' the waitress. She's a friend o' mine from way back, so I asked 'em to stop. Politely. When they didn't, me 'n the guys kicked 'em outta the place. That's it! We was just lookin' out for someone else!"

"Kicked 'em out how?"

Bobby shrugged sheepishly, though there was a glint in his eyes. "We mighta roughed up a couple of 'em. But they was messin' with a girl who's like my own."

Aaron nodded, knowing what Bobby did when he "roughed up" someone. "It happens again, Bobby, and you're fired." Without another word, he walked back outside where a patrol cop had just parked his car. Jason stood over the five gangbangers, one of which had already regained consciousness and was nursing a broken nose. Aaron lifted his voice and spoke to his employees. "Okay, show's over. Back to work. I'll call you when you're needed."

The patrol officer gaped at the four unconscious men and the one moaning and making a big deal out of the blood getting on his previously spotless white shirt. He eyed Jason. "You in charge around here?"

Aaron stepped over to him. "I am." He held out his hand. "Aaron Cross. I'm the contractor here," he said with nod toward his truck and its company logo.

The officer shook his hand. "We have reports of gunfire and an altercation in the area. Want to tell me what happened?"

Over the next hour, Aaron told the police, who continued to arrive, what had happened, showed his ID, explained how the Jason Bourne came to work for him, managed his men while the officers took witness statements, and watched smugly as the five who thought they could attack the crew were carted off in handcuffs for possessing unregistered firearms. He saw the respect in their eyes as they looked at him, though, and knew that he'd either started a gang war or had proven that his job sites were not to be touched. In the end, it didn't matter as the police decided that they wouldn't be pressing charges but left Aaron with a warning to keep things quiet. He agreed with a tired nod and, as the final patrol car drove away, told his guys to pack up and head home. He was frustrated, and he had cuts on his fists that stung. It had been months since he'd been in a fistfight, and he had a restless energy that needed to be worked out in private.

After locking up the job site, Aaron drove aimlessly for a bit, knowing Jason could take care of himself. He went out of his way to avoid advertising just how deadly he could be, but he couldn't get away from it. When that first kid had put a hand on his shoulder, he'd just reacted on instinct. The rest of the fight. . . The moves just came back to him, and he knew it would be years—if ever—before they fully faded away.

He wound up at Lake Arlington, wandering the two-mile walking path and letting his thoughts settle. He'd hoped he'd left those things behind when he came to the Chicago area. He hadn't wanted to fight, to struggle for survival at all. Instead, he found himself having to occasionally defend his job sites. He supposed he should have expected it, but it still rankled him.

Finally, after the sun had fully set, Aaron drove home. He found Jason in the partially-finished kitchen, cooking a simple meal and puttering around. The Treadstone asset glanced up when he came in the door. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Aaron didn't really want to talk about it. He accepted his plate with a quiet word of thanks and carried it into the office, where he'd been eating recently due to the general chaos in the rest of the house. Jason followed him and sat down in one of the comfortable chairs that Aaron had left in place when Marta and Nicky showed up with KFC. He eyed Bourne. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"So, I'm getting tile tomorrow. We should be able to finish up the kitchen by Saturday."

Jason recognized the change of topic. "Think we can hang the cabinets tonight? Even if they're not painted, we can get things put away."

"True." Aaron ate a few bites. "Thanks, by the way. And not just about earlier."

"No problem."

Few words passed between the two men for the rest of the meal. They finished eating and rinsed their plates, turning and starting work on the kitchen. By the time they'd hung the cabinets, both of them were worn out and headed for separate showers. The coming day would result in tile and paint choices, and then they could work on finishing up the kitchen. At least the kitchenware that had been scattered all over the dining room was put away. The dust and cleaning could wait for another day, and Aaron decided that having Marta around to help him make decisions for the rest of the kitchen was just what he needed. He ultimately fell asleep smiling at the idea of watching her agonize over the perfect tile and thought that, in spite of the fights that inevitably arose and the times when his past might intrude, his life couldn't be better.

~TBC