Author's Note: Once again, so very glad everyone is enjoying the story!

Lisa: So very glad you're enjoying the story! This portion of it was a tough one to write because it's essentially a transition. And that's all I'll say about it so I don't give anything away.

oOo

Jason sat back in the couch with a sigh as the door closed behind Nicky and Marta. He'd come straight here, thanking Nicky softly for the rag she brought him. He dabbed it on his forehead now, sighing with relief as it helped ease part of the pain. Aaron finished putting up the last of the tile as he recovered, thankfully quiet save for the unavoidable sounds his work produced. Ironically, they didn't bother Jason as much as they would have any other time.

Finally, after the sun set, Aaron wandered into the living room and perched on the edge of a chair while wiping his hands with a dirty towel. He still had grout in the crevices of his fingernails, but a shower would get that out. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Jason sat up, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Treadstone did this. Part of the conditioning causes severe headaches, particularly at night."

Aaron nodded once. "After viraling off blues—the cognitive chems—I had that problem. Because my hearing and senses were permanently enhanced, I could hear so much better. If I'm too close to a phone when it rings, it still bugs me. Soprano singers, kids voices in an enclosed area, that sort of thing. I handle low tones better than high." He paused for a long moment. "So, what happened?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "With what?"

"Nicky." Cross sat on the chair, his gaze direct and telling the other man he wasn't backing down. "Hey, look, I'll be the first to say relationships aren't my specialty. But something happened that shook her up, and that could be a problem if she decides to bolt."

Jason narrowed his eyes. "It bothers you that she might?"

"Shouldn't it?" Aaron shrugged. "You two might not be into settling down, and that's okay. If it's a choice you and she make. If she's running only because of something you did, though, then I have a real problem."

Jason stared at the other man. Cross had a mission, and he wasn't backing down. It made him wonder what the guy would be like if things went sideways, but he didn't have the heart to push him away. "I screwed up. Pushed her to tell me something I didn't remember."

"Regret it?"

"Yeah."

Cross chuckled at that. "Give her time. Nicky's a good woman. She'll come around."

I hope so. Jason didn't voice the thought, choosing instead to turn the tables around. "So, Marta."

"What about her?"

"You two looked pretty happy in there." Jason glanced at the kitchen, with it's half-finished backsplash, and decided now was the best time to mention his ideas. "Things keep going, you'll want your space."

This time, Aaron narrowed his eyes. "Are we really having this conversation?"

Jason laughed at the irony. Women were known for discussing their relationships. Not men. But living in the same house as Aaron could get very awkward, and Jason wanted his options open. "Yeah, we are. Because, if things keep going between the two of you, I don't want to be around."

"There's her apartment," Aaron replied with a shrug.

"And if she's here?" Jason met Aaron's eyes. "Why don't I move into the guest house? It's livable, and I can fix it up on the weekends. You've taught me enough to get the plumbing and everything back in place."

Aaron stared at him, his eyes assessing everything about the request. Jason waited. Finally, Aaron nodded. "Okay. Get your ideas together and let me know what you need. I'll pick them up next time I go on a run for the job."

The two men went their separate ways after that, both tired but for different reasons. Both of them had put in a decent amount of work during the day, and Jason's headache had drained him. As had the realization that his dreams were flashbacks. He'd suspected, but knowing was completely different. It meant Nicky had once been intimately familiar with his life. At this point, she likely knew him better than he knew himself.

He had just reached the top of the stairs when a text came to his phone. Pulling it from his pocket, he blinked wearily at the screen. Just got home, it said. Someone's been here.

Jason's headache suddenly took a backseat. He whirled on his heel. "Cross!"

Aaron appeared from the kitchen. "Yeah?"

"Let's go." Jason tossed his keys at the other man. "Someone's been in Marta's house while they were here."

Aaron caught the keys and headed out the door, grabbing a weapon and wireless frequency detector on his way. He slipped behind the wheel of Jason's car and backed out of the driveway. The hour-long drive to Marta's apartment took less than thirty minutes as he broke every traffic law on the books. Thankfully, there wasn't a decent cop around in that time, and Jason gratefully closed his eyes as the other man drove. Aaron knew what he was doing, and it saved him from making the headache worse.

Someone had been in Marta's apartment. Had they left anything behind? Bugs? Cameras? Programs on the computer? And why? Was it related to Treadstone or Outcome? Or was this something less sinister and more "normal?" He doubted it, and he knew Cross had already come to the same conclusion. Sighing as they pulled into the parking garage, Jason knew he'd handle this the way he'd always done: as Jason Bourne. And God help the poor sucker that tried to stand in his way.

oOo

Marta couldn't say what set her off. She had thoroughly enjoyed the day even if Nicky's ended badly. And spending the time with Aaron only cemented her decision to renew their relationship. That house was beautiful, Aaron was amazing, and she loved him as deeply now as she had when they'd been in Sydney. Or Johannesburg or Switzerland or any of the myriad places they'd traveled. Their situation in life might have changed, but her feelings hadn't. She just needed to learn how to trust him and let him lead in their relationship, knowing that he had only the best in mind for her.

Then, she walked through her door, and everything changed. Nicky picked up on the same thing and pulled out her phone, sending off a text. Marta knew she'd contacted Jason and found herself grateful she didn't need to deal with this alone. Instead of commenting, she met Nicky's eyes very pointedly and said, "So, I think that went well."

Nicky nodded as they carried everything into the kitchen. "Yeah. Jason loved the pizza."

"So did Aaron." Marta had closed the curtains before she left, and she moved around the kitchen, running her fingers under the edges of the counters and upper cabinets. They encountered a tiny device that hadn't been there before, and she held it up to show Nicky as Nicky found her own tucked behind the little-used toaster. "I think the kitchen's going to be beautiful when we're done."

Nicky grinned as she continued her own search, clanging pots as she put the one she'd used back in the cabinet. "You picked out great tile."

"I like it. Very French country." Marta cringed at the sharp glance that Nicky gave her but found another listening device instead, this one in a lampshade in the living room. She had forgotten that Nicky spent time in France, one of the few countries she and Aaron had not visited, and the other woman's reaction said that time wasn't the thing she wanted to think about.

Instead, Nicky pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Marta's. The guys were on the way, and they just needed to keep up the mundane conversation for a while longer. So, she continued discussing her ideas on the kitchen, whether Jason would rent the guest house, and anything that came to mind while wondering if the person listening knew they'd been discovered. The conversation felt stilted at best, and she knew she'd never be that great of an actress. Aaron was the spy, not her.

Jason texted when they arrived, and Nicky opened the door to let the two guys into the house. Aaron held up a finger to silence her, eyeing the pile of electronics already on the counter. She and Nicky continued their discussion, drawing a few smirks from Aaron and concerned glances from Jason, as Aaron moved around the house with a wireless frequency detector. He found cameras tucked in the ducts, and Jason carefully climbed on a chair to remove them. By the time they finished, they'd added quite a few more devices to the pile, and Marta realized her entire life would have been on camera if not for that initial instinct.

The meltdown started slowly, but Aaron knew her well enough to realize what was happening. He made hand motions to Jason that she didn't really understand and dragged Marta toward her bedroom. Once there, he turned on the TV, pulled Marta into the bathroom and started both the sink and shower. "Breathe," he said softly.

Marta did as she asked. "Sorry. It's just. . . ." She shook her head. "It's happening again."

"They're not going to kill you." Aaron's voice had lowered, and she knew she'd just seen Outcome 5 come out of hiding. He put his hands on his shoulders and forced her to look at him. "You hear me? They're not going to hurt you."

"You can't promise that!"

"Maybe not, but I can try to keep you safe."

She reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists. "Aaron, what if. . . ."

"Shh." He pulled her into a hug, and Marta let herself be comforted. Since they'd renewed their relationship, she and Aaron had shied away from most physical contact. They held hands, and he tended to touch her shoulder, back, or hair as they talked. But that was just Aaron. Most people who were developmentally challenged were touchy-feely, and Aaron's core nature hadn't changed in spite of Outcome's best efforts. That had made him a free thinker, someone who didn't care about rules as much as the others. It also meant he managed to stay alive.

After a moment, Marta pulled back a little. "What now?"

"You and Nicky come out to the house." He met her eyes. "Call in sick tomorrow. We'll spend the day going over some new security measures, and I'll get Jason to put a security system in here."

Marta nodded, not wanting to make any other decision. She saw Aaron smile slightly at her acceptance and knew she'd done the right thing for him. As much as she needed him here to keep her together right now, he needed to rescue her. Going into her bedroom, she pulled out a bag and started packing for several days. Aaron left to give her space, and she sighed deeply.

It was happening again. Her hands shook as she tried not to completely fall apart. She couldn't do this again! Not now, not when everything was falling into place for the first time in her life! She had a wonderful man she loved, a job that had suddenly become not as important, a house, and a life. It couldn't come apart now! Not when she had it all.

But it was. They had found her again, though she couldn't be certain who. She finished packing and moved into the living space. Jason and Nicky were arguing quietly, neither of them giving any ground while Aaron tried to act like he didn't hear them. Marta set her bag beside the door and stared at the mess in her sink where the guys had destroyed the electronic devices. Aaron assured her that it was safe to speak now, but it didn't mean she had to like the situation.

Nicky stormed into her room, and Jason rubbed his head as if in pain. Aaron watched the other man, eyes narrowed, while Marta waited. A few minutes later, Nicky reappeared with a bag over her shoulder and glare firmly in place. Nothing more was said between the two as the group left the apartment.

The trip back to Aaron's house was tense for everyone. Nicky and Marta crowded into the back of Jason's car, and Jason kept his eyes closed the entire time Aaron drove. Aaron's face was stone, showing no emotion as he took a very roundabout way back to Arlington Heights. When they finally pulled into the driveway, the one-hour drive had turned into nearly three, and Aaron apologized for his paranoia. He carried Marta's things inside as Nicky pointedly snatched her bag from Jason. Marta watched it all with a detached feeling.

Finally, upstairs and behind closed doors in the spare room of Aaron's home, she frowned at him. "What happened with those two?"

"I don't know." Aaron shook his head. "But I'm ready to lock them in a room, and it's only been a few hours."

Marta walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you for coming."

"Always." He held her for a long time, neither of them needing more than the feel of his arms around her to find comfort. He didn't say anything else when he slipped out of her room for the night, and Marta tried to relax into the bed while ignoring the reality that she was, once again, running for her life.

oOo

Nicky rolled over and punched the pillow for the fifth time in an hour. She'd been lying in this bed, ignoring the scent from the pillows and the very real presence in the room even if Jason had chosen to sleep on the couch downstairs. She loved that smell, but it kept her awake tonight. It surrounded her completely, reminding her of nights she'd held a pillow close while he'd been away on a mission.

She was throwing a fit, and she knew it. Flopping onto her back, Nicky stared at the ceiling as the tears and frustration she'd tried to keep at bay finally came to the surface.

Kissing Jason had been a mistake. It had done more than make her point. It had resulted in a pretty severe flashback if the headache he had was any indication. When he'd returned home, he'd been pale and hurting. And it was all her fault. If she'd just answered his question instead of making a big deal out of them, they might have avoided all of this in the first place.

Why had she kissed him? Was it because she was angry? Or because she'd wanted to do that since he showed up in Seattle? Jason wasn't just an old flame. He was the man she'd loved—still loved—with everything in her. She had thought she could get over him and move on, but the last six years had proven her wrong. Falling in love with him had been wonderful and scary and everything she'd wanted then. After he lost his memory and fell for Marie, she'd tried so hard just to put the past behind her. But it wasn't like he was gone forever. Jason was still there, even if he didn't remember the events of his life.

Now they were in this situation. Nicky sat up and stood to pace the room. It was nice, something she could see Marta putting together. But Jason's unique touch had been put on it. His boots were in the corner, a jacket tossed over the back of a chair, and little hints that he lived here. He'd started reading The Art of War again, one of his favorite books for some reason. It sat on his bedside table, marked with a cheap paper marker that he'd picked up somewhere. But the presence was different. She hadn't gone looking for weapons, not needing to know where they were this time. They were different people than they'd been in Paris, and that life was gone. She just needed to accept it.

That didn't help her sleep any better that night. Instead, she wound up curled in a chair by the fireplace, dozing intermittently as she longingly eyed the bed and remembered having Jason's comforting presence beside her. At dawn, when she heard someone softly head downstairs, she figured she could at least take a shower and make herself presentable. She took her time with her appearance today and mentally prepared herself for another long day of pretending Jason's amnesia didn't hurt as badly as it did.

When she finally appeared, she caught Jason pouring a cup of coffee while Aaron made breakfast. Pancakes, sausage, and eggs. Jason looked like he ate this way all the time, but Nicky preferred something lighter. She didn't complain and, by the time Marta arrived, had managed to polish off a cup of coffee.

The men had obviously stayed up and talked about the situation the night before. Nicky knew it would happen, but it still irritated her. Nonetheless, she painted a blasé expression on her face when Jason turned to her. "You up to doing a new security system on the apartment?"

Nicky nodded. "Sure."

It was the most Jason got out of her that morning. The former ease between the four friends was awkward until Jason loaded her into his car and drove back to Chicago. The tension stayed as they arrived at the apartment with the supplies they'd picked up at an electronics store on the way. Jason dropped everything on the counter and glared at her. "You done yet?"

Nicky blinked. "Done being upset? No. I asked you to leave it alone."

"And I couldn't." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I could have picked a better time, but I needed to know."

"Why?"

His face actually changed, showed a distinct discomfort. "I just did."

"You made me answer."

He glared. "I've been having dreams, okay? Dreams about you that didn't feel like dreams. It felt like I was remembering."

That startled Nicky. "W—what?"

He snorted and began moving around the apartment, his eyes assessing the best places for the wiring and RF jammers. Part of the security system was designed to prevent surveillance of any kind, whether from inside the apartment or otherwise. "After going to dinner that first time, I started dreaming about you. About us. In Paris."

Nicky followed him. "You mean you remembered?"

"Not everything." He paused near the windows. "And I couldn't be sure it wasn't just. . .dreams." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I needed to know."

"Jason. . . ." Nicky's voice trailed off when he turned to stare at her. The intensity in his eyes surprised her, and she felt her own gaze answering the unspoken call. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I thought. . . ." She looked around. "You had Marie, and now she's gone."

"That was three years ago."

"Yeah, but I know from personal experience that things don't always heal in three years. Or five."

His eyes narrowed. He moved to stand less than a foot away. "Maybe it doesn't. And maybe it's not what we had. But we can still be friends."

"No, we can't." She shook her head. "I can't. Not like this."

"Then how?"

"Friends isn't an option, Jason." She refused to look away. "I still care too deeply, and I need to either break ties or find a way to make it work. I can't live in the middle anymore. Not here. Not now."

He accepted that with a nod and moved away to continue working. And Nicky's heart broke a little more. He wasn't her Jason. Not anymore.

oOo

Jason saw the change in Nicky and wished he could do something about it. But short of pretending, he couldn't change how things had gone in his life. He had lost his memory and, in doing so, became a different man than the one she'd known and obviously loved.

Maybe it was time for him to move on. Maybe he needed to let her have her space to define who Nicky Parsons was without Treadstone or Jason Bourne or any other influence from that past. Ironically, he didn't have to necessarily move to do that. He could easily cut ties in spite of how much it would actually bother him.

That thought frustrated him more than a little as he started installing the security system Aaron wanted in Marta's apartment. He'd cut ties with people so many times, both willingly and unwillingly. The strongest moment that stood out in his mind was under that river in Goa, when Marie had died. It had been so sudden, talking to him one minute and dead the next. In an instant, his entire life changed. He ran and never had more than that one kiss under the water to call his goodbye.

And he'd clung to her memory. He still carried her picture in his pocket even though it had been three years. Lately, he'd found himself lonely, but he thought that was just the life he lived. He thought he'd been imagining Nicky in that place because, frankly, he had needs. But the hurt on her face just now told him a much different story. She wasn't just another woman out there. She was a part of his past, something he couldn't change and something he couldn't remember.

Stifling a sigh, Jason focused on his work and put those thoughts from his mind. He'd take them out and examine them later tonight, when he tried to sleep on the couch while Nicky paced upstairs. Perhaps, by morning, he'd be able to talk with her and work out their issues. Otherwise, he saw no other recourse but to let her live her life and get on with his.

oOo

Chandler knew in an instant that something was wrong. The night before, he'd taken the time to go out to dinner after installing the surveillance equipment in Shearing's house. He'd known she would eventually find the bugs, but he had hoped it would take her a few days. When he came home from dinner, he found several hours of. . .nothing. Some conversation about the trip the women made to Cross's house, but nothing else. Not even a snore. That meant one of two things: either his equipment had been discovered, or it had malfunctioned. Since he'd designed most of it, he doubted it had malfunctioned.

Now, someone other than Marta Shearing moved around her apartment. He couldn't see through the windows, but infrared showed two bodies in the house, moving and interacting occasionally. He knew his bugs were gone, likely disabled the previous evening. He so rarely underestimated someone that to do it now, when his targets were two civilian women, really irritated him. Peering through his rifle scope and trying to see through the minute cracks in Shearing's curtains, he swore he wouldn't do that again. Vendel wouldn't accept it, and Byer definitely wouldn't let him get away with such a drastic failure.

A quick glance at his watch told him that Vendel's plans should be under way. Today's Senate hearing had been scheduled for later this afternoon, and it offered Vendel the perfect opportunity to act. For an analyst, the man had some wicked tactics. He'd kept NRAG alive even when the government thought they'd destroyed it, rebuilding from the ground up and using assets that no one knew about. Chandler had been one of those assets.

The form of a person flashed past one of the cracks in Shearing's curtains, and Chandler yanked his attention back to the matter at hand. The two heat signatures in the apartment were walking back and forth, obviously working on something important. Then, one of them stopped right in front of the opening of the curtains, and Chandler nearly dropped his rifle.

When had Jason Bourne come to Chicago?

oOo

The motorcade wound through Washington DC with a police escort and plenty of guards. Not that their prisoner made an effort to escape. He sat in the back of the van, slight sneer on his face as he waited for his arrival at the Senate hearings. All this pomp and circumstance meant he had to put on a suit, something that he actually missed, and he wished he could move to loosen his tie a bit. But every movement sent his guards jumping for weapons, and he decided he could choke a little while longer.

Tires squealed, and a curse came across the radio. Definitely not professional, but who was when they'd been deliberately broadsided and pushed off the road? The prisoner allowed the sneer to grow into a satisfied grin. So, his plan had worked.

The transport carrying him swerved, gunshots peppered the side, and the prisoner threw himself to the ground. There had always been the possibility this could happen, so he'd made contingency plans and put them in the hands of someone he trusted—someone so unlikely they'd be able to go to ground and not realize it. He often wondered if Vendel even knew he was Outcome with a touch of Treadstone bred into him. Bourne, Cross and Vendel were the only three left, though no one realized Vendel even existed. His version of Treadstone was a bit different from Bourne's. He'd not been bred for killing but for logistics. And there had been some modifications made to the brainwashing process to keep inconsistencies at a minimum. For the most part, it worked. And he supposed that was because Vendel wanted it to work. Just like Cross, Vendel had not been the man he was today. He'd been recreated, and he owed his life to the man currently lying on the floor of the van.

The attack happened quickly, though there was an inordinate amount of shouting, gunfire, and panic. The guards did their best, but their attackers had superior weapons and position. Before long, everything fell silent. The back door of the van opened, a silhouetted form rushing in and unchaining the prisoner. He stood to his feet, taking a moment to adjust his tie and prepare to make his entrance back into the world.

Once everything was in place, Ric Byer stepped out of the van and into freedom.

~TBC