Disclaimer: See chapter 1
Note: M. is the abbreviation for Monsieur
Note 2: Sorry it has been so long. I had hoped this would be finished in one chapter, but the rough version of the ending is almost 7000 words and still needs some work. Hopefully it will be posted in the next few days.
Ch. 5 - A Darker Dream
A darker dream –
That has no ending –
That's so unreal
You believe that it's true!
A dance of death -
Out of a mystery tale –
Dangerous Game – From Jekyll And Hyde
Positano – April 2008
Jason Bourne was sleeping soundly when he began to dream. The images that filled his unconscious mind weren't about violence and death, but the sweet softness of a woman. This time he knew who she was and had no wish to fight where his mind was taking him.
His arms were wrapped around Nicky Parsons as she slept. Her naked body was pressed against his. Her hair tickled the stubble on his chin and filled his nostrils with the slight scent of almonds. He savored the pleasure of her comforting presence at the same time he marveled at it. He was an extremely physical man, but was always careful to keep that side of him hidden.
To touch meant connecting with another…
To touch meant leaving a part of him behind…DNA…fingerprints…a piece of himself that could never be returned…
Europe, Asia, or wherever he went, was filled with women who met his needs, ones that were only interested in the hunger of passion. Those women usually detected the danger that radiated beneath his quiet presence and found it intriguing, a lure to their desires, though none had ever guessed at its real nature.
None of them had ever been to his apartment and he never fell asleep with any of them. He didn't have the luxury of that vulnerability…
None of them ever got closer than a quick fuck, before he was gone in the night, leaving nothing behind…
His life had changed for a while, when for the first time in his memory, he'd made an unwise choice and begun an affair with Nicky. Now he knew if he had to go back to being the cold, hard man he'd been before, it would devastate his mind….
Even half-awake, he struggled to keep the dream with him. He kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the feel of her soft weight draped snugly against him. The idea that something wasn't right skirted his thoughts, but he ignored the niggling doubt and cupped her bottom, stifling a groan when the pressure of his hands brought her soft femininity more intimately into contact with him. Her presence felt tangible, as if she was really with him and he didn't plan on letting go, not this time, not ever again.
She always slept in his arms, but this was a first. He grinned contentedly when he imagined what they must have been doing to have fallen asleep in this position, too exhausted to move, despite their cramped space.
He was reassured to know that no matter how brutal his life was this woman was there for him. She understood the source of his darkness, but was not afraid.
He knew Nicky's body well. It would only take the slightest shift of his hips and he would be inside her...again…
…but something wasn't right. Jason tried to shake away doubts but he couldn't fight instinct that was fast making him aware of his surroundings.
Risk assessment took less than a second, even without opening his eyes. Nick was wearing clothes and so was he. They weren't in his queen size bed in Paris. There was something about the lighting that was wrong…His mind kept circling back to the light. It was wrong…as it filtered through the lashes of his half-closed lids…it was too bright.
Jason's eyes flew open and he knew. They were in Italy, not France. It was years later and they were no longer lovers, but polite strangers. The night before, she'd woken him screaming in terror and he'd held her until they'd both fallen asleep. He knew it was unwise to still be holding her, but she felt so right in his arms, no matter the reason for it.
He felt her stir restlessly. She drew her right knee higher until it pressed against his hip instead of his thigh. It brought them closer together. All that was separating them was the thin material of their sleep pants. In that moment he knew he desired Nicky Parsons more than he'd ever desired a woman in his life. Nothing else mattered but her, not his past, his lost memories, or the grief and guilt that still haunted him, not even the life he'd led with Marie.
"Jason," Nicky murmured and instinctively rocked her hips while rubbing her nose against the muscles of his chest.
Longing shot through him, blinding him with its intensity. If they didn't stop now, there would be no going back.
"Nicky, wake-up!" he put as much steel into his voice as he could.
"'Morning, Sunshine," her words were thick with desire. Her huge dark eyes reflected all that she was feeling.
"Wake-up, damnit," his voice trembled as he gripped her shoulders. The last thing he wanted was to push her away, but if he didn't, he would lose all that he had gained in the last few weeks.
"Wha…what?" she whispered but the words caught in her throat. Jason had always taken great joy in making love in the morning. It was one of the many pleasures he'd introduced her to. Something was wrong.
"Nicky this isn't Par-" He knew the instant reality crashed down around her. He watched her eyes widen and fill with sorrow. Cheeks that had been ruddy with passion went chalk white. He hated that he'd caused her pain again, but knew that if they had let things play out as they had begun, it would have been something neither of them would have been able to face.
"Oh, my God!" She jerked back and rolled quickly to her right, landing in a heap on the floor beside the couch. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean…I must have been dreaming…"
"We both were." He shook his head trying to clear his mind and wished his heart would stop pounding in his ears.
"But I tried to…" Nicky couldn't go on. It was clear what had been about to happen.
"Yeah, well, so did I!" He glared and stepped around her, putting as much space between them as he could and still remain in the same room. It caught him by surprise that it hurt physically to see her crumpled, leaning her arms on the coffee table, her knuckles white as they gripped the edges.
"This is not working," he stated emphatically. "I gotta leave before I destroy you."
"Wait." She reached for him, but he kept his distance. "You're always so ready to walk away. I need to get to the other side of…of…this, as much as you do." Though her face remained impassive, her eyes burned with feelings he couldn't place. "What happened on that couch was not us, as we are today."
"I wanted you…and if I'd been a little less awake, nothing would have stopped me. I'm a hell of a lot stronger than you." The air crackled around them with the implication of his words. She rocked back, struck by the truths he was telling her, but surprised that he didn't realize that she never would have tried to stop him. Strength had nothing to do with it.
"You weren't alone in what happened." Her finger shook as she pointed toward the couch, trying to catch her breath and search for logical answers to their problem. "We're two healthy, young adults, living in close quarters…and well …it's been months since you were with Marie and I haven't… ah… I do not have casual affairs." She would be damned if she'd admit that she hadn't been intimate with a man since Jason."
"We have a past. We were lovers." He cut to the heart of it. His body knew it was true even if he only had flashes of memories of his time spent with her. He knelt, careful to keep the coffee table between them.
"Yes, we were, but we are not now." She gently grazed his arm with fingers that shook every so slightly to take the sting out of her words.
"The…um…whatever…is still there." It was hard for him to acknowledge, because he had always blamed Treadstone and his training for the wall he'd kept around his emotions, for his inability to go beyond desire, and protective friendship with Marie. He had told himself many times over that if they could simply stop running, stop looking over their shoulders and live like human beings that things would change, he would change, and if they didn't, her love for him would be enough. Now, he was face to face with his past and he knew all his good intentions toward Marie were built on thin air.
"I think the word you're looking for is chemistry," she added sadly. "What almost happened was a mistake. We need to be more careful or we'll end up hating each other. You because I'm not Marie and me because… well…because things are different."
He heard the words she wasn't saying. "You mean I'm different."
"No, we've both changed." She studied the grain of the coffee table, refusing to meet his gaze for fear he would see what she wasn't saying. That he looked and felt the same. His scent lingered on her skin from sleeping wrapped in his arms, like it used to. The nights she'd fallen asleep beside him felt the same. Nicky took a deep breath and raised her eyes to his. "Paris and everything that happened there is in the past. We are not those people any longer." Her words were filled with fierce conviction. She had lived with the pain of his loss for too long, going back would break her. "All we can do is move forward and try for closure."
He watched her warily, assessing every word, looking beyond the determined rise of her chin that was as hauntingly familiar, as it was defiant and saw all that she wasn't saying. She was as trapped as he was by his amnesia. But there was another consideration that he couldn't lie to her about. "It's not that simple, I still want you," his voice was a quiet breathy rumble as he returned to the problem as he saw it.
"You always have and I wanted you just as badly." Admitting her feelings helped unclench her stomach and allowed her to breathe freely for the first time since waking.
Sitting on the floor, with her arms wrapped around her body, Nicky broke her own rule: she told him about their first time in Paris. She told him how he had breached the Safe House bringing lattes and baguettes; how he'd challenged her abilities to protect herself and all that had happened on that cold stormy day as he had forced her to improve her skills with a hand weapon.
"It sounds as if you seduced me." Bourne grinned wickedly and then closed his eyes and tried to absorb what Nicky had told him. He could see an aging farmhouse, almost smell the air filled with the pungent odor of nitroglycerin from recently fired weapons and mold from old furniture and dustcovers, but as much as he wanted to picture what it was like to really make love to her, that memory eluded him.
"You didn't put up much of a fight." She laughed softly at the memory.
"I'm sure I didn't." He gently pushed her hair out of her eyes. He still wanted her, but knew that he did not feel the love for her that she felt for the man she had lost. He was not that man anymore and had no idea how to be.
"We can do this, Jason, we can find the answers that will set us both free. We are adults. If we set our minds to it and are careful, we'll be all right." She stood slowly, gripping her hands tightly to keep them from trembling. It took all her courage, but she looked him in the eyes and calmly suggested, "If things get too difficult for you, as your therapist, I'd prescribe a discreet overnight trip to Naples or Rome for-"
"No," he barked and faster than she could blink, he was on his feet and around the table. Jason grabbed her upper arms, lifted her to her toes, and dragged her body tightly against his. He was caught in cold dark anger he didn't understand. "And where will you be while I'm getting my therapeutic fuck?" He couldn't wipe the picture from his mind of some faceless man touching her, running his hands over her body and doing all the things to her that he ached to do. The thought made him seethe.
"Jason," she gasped. "That...it…I-"
"You didn't answer my question." He pressed his face against her temple and whispered against her ear, "Who is gonna make you beg 'til you're too hoarse to scream when you're finally allowed to come? Who is going to do that to you while I'm busy gettin' my rocks off?"
"Stop it. It's not like that." She shoved against his chest, her face flushed, and her skin burning. She was alive with memories. She could almost hear the street sounds of Paris in the distance and remember the feel of his hands ringing her wrists. She knew exactly what it felt like to have his hips pressing her into the mattress, as they did everything he feared she would seek in a stranger. Then there had been nights he'd held her immobile and lightly tasted every sensitive area of her skin, until she begged and cried for relief. She was acquainted with all the facets of Jason Bourne, lover, from exquisite tenderness to demanding control, but for her, they were gone. He loved another.
Jason froze in shock. He had done this to her before, shook her and threatened her, but not in his dark forgotten past. It was from months ago in Berlin, under Alexanderplatz Station with his temper spiraling out of control. He had felt an overwhelming need to be close to her, even if it had meant shoving her against a wall and terrorize her to do it. He had needed to touch her and now he finally understood why.
"I'm sorry, Nick," he gasped and turned away. "I'm sorry for today and what I did to you in Berlin." Jason's hands shook and a weight squeezed his chest. "I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you. You would have been better off, if I'd left you alone from the beginning."
"No, don't say that. The only things I regret are being too blinded by emotion to catch any problems you were having, and that I didn't go with you when you left Paris that last morning." She shrugged, knowing she couldn't change a thing. "We can't do anything about the past except learn to live with it. Right now, you and I have to decide if we are willing to do what is necessary, in the present, to change the future." Her hands were trembling so she balled them into fists to maintain control. Once again, they'd come too close…their passion had almost overwhelmed them. "I'm going to shower and get dressed. When I come out, I want you gone, if you aren't willing to work with me to make those changes. That includes keeping your distance and I'll do the same." She turned quickly, so he wouldn't see her eyes fill with tears.
She was sure that she'd just seen the last of Jason Bourne.
Forty-five minutes later Nicky opened her bedroom door and was met by the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. It made her heart pound and her knees weak.
"You're still here." She smiled as she entered the kitchen.
"Yeah," he nodded and put slices of bacon in the cast iron skillet. "I'm tired of living on instinct and adrenaline. I'll take the chance, if you will." His eyes followed her movements. There was worry and warning in his deep blue depths.
"All right, we need a new game plan and some house rules." Nicky nodded, understanding the silent message he transmitted. "But first we need some food."
After they ate, Jason showered and dressed before meeting her in the living room.
"I think it would be best if I moved back to where I camped when I was doing reconnaissance on the cottage and surrounding area." He suggested, letting his pack slide down his arm to the floor.
"Is that instinct and adrenaline talking or you?" Nicky challenged. She was drinking tea, curled up in a large padded rocker. She was hidden from prying eyes, but had an excellent view down the twisting road, to the Mediterranean far below.
"What do you mean?" He glared at her.
"Why do you want to move out of the Gatekeeper's lodge? Take as long as you need to figure it out. Is it for surveillance or are you worried that we may have another problem like this morning?"
"It's the logical conclusion." He stated emphatically. "The only way to survive is to ignore feelings and follow logic." He frowned; unsure where the idea came from, but Jason had known that thinking like that had kept him alive since French fishermen pulled him out of the water two years earlier.
"You've told me that once before and thank goodness you threw logic out the window that time." She smiled sadly at the memory of the first time they'd made love. "But my question has nothing to do with the past. I want you to tell me what prompted your suggestion that you sleep elsewhere. I'm not finding fault or judging. I simply want to understand why and be sure you do too."
He watched her carefully, trying to discern what Nicky was thinking. Her face gave nothing away. It was impassive but serene and open at the same time. "You're playing therapist."
"I'm not playing. I am doing what I should have done since you arrived: ask the tough questions and dig until you answered them." She took one last look out the window and then sat back, her entire attention on the man across the room from her. "Why do you want to move out, for surveillance or worry about living in close quarters with me?"
He sat on his pack, rubbed his hands together and searched his mind. "A bit of both." He met her steady gaze. "This property has outdated security. We'll both sleep better if…"
"Jason, how much sleep will you get holed up in your sniper's blind watching the plateau every night?"
"Damnit Nicky, that is not the point." He leapt to his feet and began to pace. "With me out of the house when you are sleeping, you would be safe."
"Yeah, until you passed out from exhaustion. How long do you think you'd last guarding all night and trying to make it appear as if you live a normal life by day? There is an entire town full of people down that hill. You can't simply pretend they aren't there, unless you want them asking questions." She glared at him. "More importantly, you're already sleep deprived, that isn't going to help you get your memory back."
"I get my best sleep when you're beside me." Jason huffed softly, surprised at the honest answer.
"We both do," she admitted with a slight blush. "But that isn't an option anymore. Unless…" Nicky's dark eyes met Jason's blue ones before continuing. "There might be a compromise. It's not long term but it may be enough for us both to get some much-needed rest. The second floor is one large empty room. We can move our mattresses up there. It would be sleeping alone but…kind of…together. Just knowing…uh…someone is in the same room, being able to hear you breathe at night would help. I know it's unprofessional, but not as bad as my actions in Paris." Her voice choked and she buried her face in her hands.
Jason was by her side instantly. His first inclination was to hold her but he froze, aware of their new bargain. Instead, he crouched beside her chair and settled for placing a careful hand on her shoulder. "Nick, what happened to me is not your fault."
"How can you be sure? What if I missed something because I just didn't want to see it?"
"Because I trust you. You've got my back now and eventhough I can't remember it, you had it then. If you'd had doubts about my abilities, you would have never let me leave Paris."
"Do you trust me enough to sleep at opposite ends of a large room from me?" She smiled as she wiped tears from her cheeks and pushed her doubts about those last few days in Paris as deep down as she could.
"Let's take a look at what we've got to work with." He said as he headed for the stairs with Nicky only steps behind.
The room under the eaves had been servant's quarters back in a time when even a gatekeeper would be given a housekeeper, cook or cleaning woman. The floor was oak, and like any of the other hardwood floors in the cottage, had been refinished some time in the last few years. The wall to the right of the entrance at the top of the stairs contained a large stone fireplace. There were three arched, leaded-glass windows along the front of room.
"Wow, look at that view." Nicky opened the latch at the side of one of the windows and swung it outward. She looked down on the garden wall and grass that led to the cliff, further out there were colorful rooftops slanting down to the Mediterranean far below. Along the horizon, over dancing waves there were smudged outlines of islands. "It looks like the help had the best room in the house."
"What's in here?" Jason knelt in front of two wide cupboards. Located on the wall opposite the fireplace.
"I…uh never looked inside." She realized it was a tactical error that could prove costly. "Servants' quarters, two identical storage spaces…it seemed normal." She shook her head and moved to his side as he opened the cupboards.
"Look at that." They were filled with circuitry and grounded electrical plugs.
Nicky gripped his shoulder with cold fingers. "Are we blown?" She mouthed in terror, unsure of the significance of their find, but careful. If there were listening devices she didn't want to be heard.
"No," Jason shook his head and gripped her hand in reassurance. "This has been here three, maybe four years and has nothing attached to it. It explains why your security system looked like it was put in by an amateur."
"What does this have to do with my security?" Computers and research were her specialty. Wiring was beyond her, but give her a laptop and time and she would figure it out.
"I think the wires, I so carefully hid the first morning I was here, were a decoy. This is part of your real system or will be with the necessary additions." That morning's discovery was going to save him days of work. "We need to find where this originates. The one on your front door wouldn't keep out your average bugler."
"As you proved the night you broke in."
"Hey, from all the information I've got on Jason Bourne, he…I am not ordinary when it comes to breaking and entering."
"Locks didn't keep you out." She remembered the first time he broke into the Safehouse and things began to fall into place. "You must have put this in. It is more proof that this was to be your bolt hole if needed." Nicky stepped back in shock. He really had meant for them to run away together, or at least have the option of being together. The wedding certificate in her lock box proved it. "You planned all of this."
"I couldn't have. I'm sure I've never been to this part of Italy before. My memory is a mess, but I have a sense about places. I've trusted that sense for the last two years and it has not failed me... Even in India, I knew we were safe until I knew we weren't." His voice was rough with memories he wished he could forget along with all the rest. He cleared his throat and shook away the sorrow. "You should know better than anyone. Was I ever assigned to work anywhere on the Amalfi Coast?"
"Not while I was with Treadstone. You didn't have any assignments in this area." That was all the assurance Nicky could give him. "And the last orders you received were the only ones I know of that didn't come through the Safehouse, except for Berlin, before I came on board. We only discovered that recently.
"You may not have been here physically, but you could have order all this," she insisted. The importance of when the work was done kept screaming at her. "You bought this place, provided me with the documents, directions, and a ready made identity. The dates on the purchase agreement coincide with your estimate of the latest restoration of this cottage." She twisted her fingers in worry. "I didn't know anything about it until I went to my safe deposit box in Rome. I told you this before, but we never really talked about it."
"May I see those papers?"
"Of course, it's your property." She assured him and headed for the stairs.
"Nick, wait." He reached for her arm and let his hand drop the second he touched her skin. "The Gatehouse it yours. I obviously wanted you to have it. Shhh…" He stopped her when she tried to argue. "I have to know you are safe no matter what happens." He wasn't sure what was behind that driving need.
Nicky knew there was no sense in arguing with him now, but once they had rested and worked on his memory, she would approach the subject again. Under the circumstances she didn't feel comfortable taking a gift of this magnitude from him. If it came to it, she could always slip away in the night. He had trained her well, not even he would find her if she didn't want him to.
They sat at the table and Jason went over the blueprints from before and after the renovations. The deeper he dug into the changes made on the cottage, the more he was sure Nick was correct. He had ordered the improvements and taken care of the bills under the name of Jean-Paul Benoit. Despite the bad things he'd learned about his life as Jason Bourne, he was also discovering just how smart he'd been and it appeared, how important Nicky Parsons was to him.
M. Benoit had signed off on all renovations and modernizations to the house. That included redoing the entire electrical system and running special wiring and cables to the old servants' quarters turning it into an 'office', as it was labeled on the latest schematics.
In the basement there was a 'smart room' next to the wine cellar. A lot of new construction in the United States was being built with one. All incoming electronics were set-up in one room. That room could contain the new circuit breaker box, incoming cable, main alarm system, and dock for a sound system, Wi-Fi transmitter, and hot water heater. It was located next to the wine cellar, both rooms built into the side of the cliff to keep them cool and protect them from the heat of the boiler room at the other end of the basement.
What they had was the barebones of a very elaborate surveillance and security system masquerading as simple household equipment. It would take some work, but he knew he could get it up and running for Nicky.
"This is good, very good. We should check out the basement room. Have you been down there?" Jason smiled with satisfaction, as he folded the papers back into a neat packet and handed them to her.
"Yes. It was creepy enough that I gave it a thorough inspection and then padlocked the door on this side." She shrugged embarrassed at her response. Intellectually she knew spiders were harmless, it was men with sniper rifles she needed to worry about.
Moments later they were in the basement. Bare light bulbs hung above their heads so they could see where they were going. "Here, it's this one." Nick indicated as she twirled the combination on the lock. "There are cobwebs," she warned. She could see humor sparkle in his eyes as she looked over her shoulder in distaste, but he didn't laugh.
They looked around the room carefully inspecting each wall as they went. "Oh yeah, this will do nicely." Jason swiped away spider webs as he opened two circuit breaker boxes. "These will handle everything and you don't have to worry that those shiny new kitchen appliances will burn the place down once we're finished." He took a moment to check out a small back-up generator that had never been used. It would keep their security intact even if the electricity failed. "All of this was put in when the renovations were done. I'm guessing it was left unfinished so the workmen wouldn't know what it was to be used for."
"Three years is a long time in the tech world. Anything that was installed then would be antiquated by now." Nicky added. "You may have wanted to wait until you were going to actually use the property."
"There is that too." He agreed, and had to wonder just how soon the man he'd been had planned to make his escape from Treadstone. "How would you feel about a trip to Rome tomorrow? We need to purchase some electronics and I'd rather do it in the biggest city we can."
"We should try Naples too, when I stopped there to get my hair done and do some clothes shopping, I saw a number of large computer and technology stores."
"Good idea, we should buy from as many different stores as possible. It will be less obvious what we are using the equipment for and harder to trace. " He shrugged and added, "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't after you."
"Kurt Cobain, or Joseph Heller in Catch 22?" she asked. "Both are credited for saying it. My bet is on Heller. Catch 22 was published in 1961 and Cobain wasn't born until '67. Sorry, it's the curse of a photographic memory. I can annotate anything I've ever read."
"Aren't you a bit young to remember Nirvana?"
"Not when I dated an older man for almost two years." It was so easy to flirt with him. There were times it felt as if they had never been apart.
"Ouch, that hurt." He stepped back with his hands over his heart as if he'd been shot, but recovered quickly when her eyes darkened and filled with sorrow. That photographic memory of hers was probably playing hell with her feelings.
"You remembered," she gasped. It felt like the floor was shifting beneath her feet "You were able to put together Nirvana and Kurt Cobain."
"Yeah…but…I'm not sure how." He frowned and searched his mind for more information, but nothing came. "Most of my amnesia has been self specific… but that?" He shrugged. He couldn't remember anything else about his taste in music. Maybe it was significant?
"Leave it, don't push yourself." Nicky advised. "It was something from your past and that's good."
"Okay," he shook his head, to drive away the feelings of defeat. "I want to make a list for tomorrow and then undo the work I did on the security system at your door. This place needs to appear as low-tech as possible. Just because M. Benoit planned on putting in fancy computers in his office, doesn't mean that the widow Benoit did. It might be a good idea to buy a cheap laptop. I'll encrypt and hardwire all the security we're putting in and hide it behind the footprint of a simple, hardly used computer."
"While you're figuring out what we need, I'll air and clean the top floor room." She'd given it a quick once over with a dust rag and mop when she'd moved in, but if they were going to be sleeping in there, it needed more than that.
"As soon as I'm through, I'll be up to help you."
"I…uh…can handle it." Nicky wanted nothing more than some strenuous work and some privacy to help clear her mind. For one tiny moment she'd thought he'd remembered. Between that and their casual banter, her composure was cracking. She was afraid she would break, unless she was given time to shore up her flagging emotions. "Get started on lunch when you're done with what you need to do, I shouldn't be long."
"Okay, but let me know when you need help hauling the mattresses upstairs." He could see the frantic look in her eyes and knew exactly what demons were chasing her. The papers he'd gone over told an interesting story. Four years ago, the Jason Bourne he'd been had begun meticulously creating a safe haven and he had included a place at his side for his lover. Now that same man didn't remembered her.
"Jason," Nicky whispered to the still form across the room. "Are you awake?"
"Yeah, you okay?" He sat up and faced the dark spot where he knew her mattress was located. It was their first night in the large open room and he had been on the verge of sleep.
"There is something you need to know before we go to Naples and Rome tomorrow. I broke into the CIA's main database and changed our official ID's and any pictures generated from them. We should avoid cameras anywhere we can, and use hats and sunglasses, liked we planned, but facial recognition software won't pick up our pictures." She smiled slightly. The memory of what she'd done eased her worry about their buying trip the next day.
"When did you do that?" He grinned at her initiative.
"After Berlin, but before I arrived in Spain. All the news photos they were running of you are wrong. The changes I made were small and didn't fool the operative in Tangier. He was looking for gender, appropriate age, general coloring, and approximate likeness to the photos he was emailed. A computer measures bone structure, the addition of a wig or a mustache won't fool that, like it might the human eye."
"Were you able to break in without leaving any tracks?" He was amazed at her skills.
"I think so, but it doesn't matter. The changes are made and they would need a model to undo the damage. If they realize what I did, they will try harder to find other photos, but there aren't any. I ran a special program that I'd written just to be sure. It was an updated version of the one I used in Paris to comb through all online media to change any accidental captures of Treadstone operatives and personal." She pointed to herself. "You and I were always careful. We avoided cameras meticulously, but then we had more to hide than the others. We were careful to destroy anything from my past. There was only one other image that existed of you, other than your official ID. It was take from an airport camera when you were coming out of India. You looked straight into the lens, daring them to recognize you. My program made identical changes to that one, as well. Too many people know about it to simply make it disappear."
"There is one other of me." He thought of the faded picture he had taken with Marie. "I've got it. I'll destroy it tomorrow."
"Jason, you don't have to." She was sure that he wasn't the only person in that photo.
"Yeah, I do." He lay down and turned over, cutting off further conversation.
The next morning she didn't ask and he didn't volunteer any information about the picture, but Nicky found a small pile of ashes in the living room fireplace, that hadn't been there the night before.
Despite leaving early, they didn't get back to their hilltop home in Positano until almost ten at night. They'd carefully divided their purchases between a number of electronics shops in both Rome and Naples.
The following day the real work began. Each night they fell into their respective beds tired but satisfied with the progress they were making. Both of them slept soundly with no dreams to haunt them.
It took Jason, with Nicky's help, over two weeks to create an in-home security system he was comfortable with. The time consuming part wasn't putting the pieces together, but doing it in such a way that it didn't leave behind a technological marker any larger than a small laptop. It was exacting precision work that demanded mental and physical effort.
The old flower boxes under the three windows of their room became homes for hidden cameras. All had zoom capabilities and each was angled to cover an overlapping section of the property and house. No one could get closer than two hundred feet to the Gatehouse without being seen and setting off an alarm. As a back up to the cameras, Jason added sensors to the hinges of the gate and every few inches along the wall that ringed the cottage.
Once he was through working on the walls, Nicky began putting in natural protection at their base. She planted roses bushes every four feet. She chose her bushes by the size and amount of thorns, not the color of flower they produced. Inside the wall, where there was shade for part of the day she planted wild blackberry bushes. They both knew that the plants wouldn't keep out a determined operative, but the sensors and tripwires they hid among them would be the last layer of warning devices before the door.
After returning from their shopping trip, they began a new pattern. At bedtime, they turned off all the lights in the main part of the cottage before they checked the locks, blackout drapes, and sections of the security system that was functioning. Each went to their bedroom to change for bed. The lamps in their old rooms had timers that were set to turn off at different times each night. Once they had changed for bed, they left the lamps on, closed their doors and went upstairs to where their mattresses were. They never lit the way or turned on a light once they were there. If anyone was watching the house, they would think their targets were still sleeping in the rooms on the main floor.
Nicky gave Jason one week of restful sleep before she started therapy sessions. They were still installing security in and around the cottage, but they were also sleeping well. He didn't like halting work early, but she insisted and he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. If he wanted her to help him, he had to accept it and do it her way.
"We are both sleeping better, knowing someone we trust is in the room. There is something else that I think is helping with that. We're not driving ourselves like we did the first few weeks you were here. The manual labor we're doing has replaced some of the strenuous exercise-"
"No!" He shook his head knowing exactly where she was going with this. He was terrified of stopping the regime he'd clung to since waking up on a fishing boat in the middle of the Mediterranean, with no idea of who or what he was. "I would be dead a number of times over if I hadn't driven my body." He believed it was why he was alive and Marie wasn't. "Hell, that operative would have killed you in the back alleys of Tangier, if you hadn't kept in shape. You were smarter and faster than he'd anticipated. If you hadn't been, he would have gotten to you before I got to him. Pushing ourselves gives us the edge necessary for survival."
"There is more to it than that, Jason." Nicky took a deep breath. She knew she'd never convince him to relax if she couldn't maintain her professional calm. "I've been following the same rigorous program since Treadstone blew up in my face and I am bone tired. It's only been the last week I've gotten healthy sleep. Before that, every time I'd close my eyes, I was haunted by the past. It's been made worse because we've gotten in the habit of using extra workouts as stress relievers. I don't see any evidence of either of us relaxing, until now." Nicky knew full well exercise had been an outlet for sexual frustration. "Any physical advantage is lost when we're emotionally drained. During the day we spend hours running mountain trails and when we closed our eyes monsters chase us through our dreams. We need to go back to a more sensible schedule, like when we lived in Paris."
"I don't remember." He was curt and not really interested in what she had to say. Marie had tried to get him to cut back, too and she'd ended up dead.
"I know, and that's part of the problem," she quickly backpedaled when his glare deepened. "When I said how we were in Paris, I didn't mean you and me together, but how we managed our lives when we were stationed there." Her words were stronger, more decisive. She was back in therapist mode. "There is a theory that states, when you can't remember your past, you have trouble imagining a future. The only past you've had, for a long time, is of a man who fights and pushes himself every second. It's the past of a man on the run. That is the template you've built your life on. It has created a person who will burn out if he keeps going like he is."
"From what you've said, and the tiny bits I remember, that isn't any different than when I was Jason Bourne the operative."
"That's only partly true. You were like that before I was assigned to the Safehouse. All of the Treadstone agents were having problems. They did their jobs perfectly, but were driving themselves. It caused issues staying anonymous in their everyday life. One or two had a problem with uh…well…Conklin called it…uh…unsanctioned violence. That was one of the reasons he brought in a person with a background in psychology."
"What did you call it, this violence?" he demanded.
Nicky pursed her lips and glared back at Jason. "I've already told you more about other patients than is professionally-"
"Cut the crap, Nick." He interrupted her. "At this point I need to know everything you can tell me. Just what kind of monster am I going to turn into?"
"Not you, Jason, never you," she whispered. "They were worst case examples of what Treadstone's methods could create. I think it was there actions, not yours, that brought an end to the training program. Both men liked their…uh…their sex rough and had lost any sense of…well…boundaries. I was able to help them establish personal limits."
"They brought in a woman to deal with men who were sexually abusive?" Bourne was astounded at how careless his boss had been. "Did I know this before…when we were… well… in Paris?" He'd taken to using her euphemism for when they'd been lovers.
"Of course not. It would have been highly unprofessional for me to share that information with another operative. I shouldn't have told you now."
"I'm glad I killed the sick bastards!" He remembered killing one on his way to Berlin and the reports he had handed over to Pam Landy said he was responsible for the deaths of all but one other.
"Jason, that's anger and frustration talking." She insisted, refusing to believe he was pleased about causing death.
He leapt to his feet to pace away his excess energy. His temper sizzled along his nerve endings while he wrestled for control of his emotions. "You were taking a damn big chance," Bourne growled.
"I was careful and I knew what I was doing." She couldn't believe he would doubt her abilities, but then he had no memories, what else could she expect. "None of the Treadstone agents every harmed me in any way."
"You're wrong there, Nicky." He stood over her with his fists on his hips and his face devoid of emotion. "I did or are you forgetting the tunnels under Berlin."
"You did not hurt me." She glared and stood facing him, inches away. "If you had wanted to, you were more than capable." She poked him in the chest to underscore her words. "So sit down and let's get back to what's important." It was not a suggestion. She was taking control of the session and he'd better cooperate.
"Nick-"
"No." She pointed to his chair and calmly took hers, carrying on as if there had been no disruption. "As I was saying, your training had erased all your prior memories. Daniels told me that they did it deliberately to create soldiers without a conscious. He said Conklin believed that it would prevent problems that occurred when men were pushed passed their moral threshold. What hadn't been anticipated was that with no real sense of right or wrong and no memories of the past, your future was founded on the actions of the present. The only thing any of you had to base your lives on was violence." She laid her hand on his arm to cushion her words. "For some, brutality was bleeding over into their cover identities."
"Yeah, right, as I said, terrifying you and shoving you against a wall under the train station in Berlin." Jason shook himself to be rid of the old ghosts that haunted him and the new ones created by thoughts of the small slim woman beside him dealing with men capable of such aggression. In this case, dealing with him.
"Sure I was frightened, but I've been afraid for two years." She was angry now and it leaked into her voice. "You-did-not-hurt-me, so get the hell over yourself and get back on track."
Bourne gritted his teeth to keep from saying more and sat there glaring until he felt he calmed down. It hadn't been anger, but guilt that had sent his temper spiraling out of control that day in Berlin. It was guilt that Marie had died only days earlier and one look through the scope of his rifle and all his plans were shot to hell. One look at honey colored hair and dark eyes and his insides shook. It wasn't fair taking his sins out on Nicky, especially when she was trying to help him. "So," he breathed deeply and relaxed his shoulders. "So how did we accomplish staying in shape and not drive ourselves insane?"
"Pretty much like we've done for the last week. We used free weights almost daily but do other things too. We monitored our aerobic workouts to be sure we were getting enough cardiovascular exercise. Sometimes we ran but we'd go hiking or take bicycle trips, too. You taught me rock-climbing, though we had to be careful with that one. You are too proficient to do it anywhere there might be an audience. We've hiked in the Pyrenees. I don't think there is a city or small town around Paris where we didn't spend an afternoon or evening playing escape and evade through the back alleys. It was how I knew what to do in Tangier."
"How were you…uh…we able to be that open and not get caught?" He was amazed how casual his life had been with her.
"Like with rock-climbing, we were careful about where and when we went places. With my job, I knew the location of every security camera in Paris and any town, city, or village in Europe." She tapped her temple to assure him the information was still locked away in her memory. "You told me once that no one would be looking for a CIA operative on a date and people see what they want to see."
"It's hard to believe I was ever that optimistic."
"I wouldn't call it that. It was more…more..." She grimaced, and searched for the right words to describe him. "You were careful, controlled and always on the lookout, but determined to have a life outside of Treadstone. We…uh…laughed…a lot in those days."
"I'm sure." His lips curved up at the edges, able to hear what she really wanted to say: they had loved a lot in those days. He wished he could remember…he wished things hadn't happened the way they did. If it had been different, he may not have done such damage to the two women who had loved him. Marie would be alive and Nicky wouldn't live with deep sorrow that she wasn't always quick enough to hide.
"I brought this up now, because I want you to think about it while we're finishing up the security system. When we are back to a day-to-day existence, I'm cutting back on the workouts. It is my advice, as your therapist, that you do too, but you have to feel safe and comfortable about it."
"I'll think about it." Was all he could promise her.
"Jason, there is one other thing we should cover today. I need you to tell me, in detail, what you remember. " Nicky probed gently. "It will give us a structure to build from. Start in chronological order, start with David."
"I'm not sure those memories are real. Pam Landy told me my real name is David Webb and that my birthday is September 13, 1970. I have occasional vague memories of life growing up under big skies and wide-open spaces."
"Do you think they are real?" Nicky sat in her favorite padded rocker. He was in an overstuffed chair to her right. The late afternoon sun was warm outside and the house was cool.
"I trusted Landy enough to hand over the files I stole and if the news is any indication, she went public with them. I think she believed what she was telling me was the truth."
"What do you believe?"
"I don't know. When I concentrate on David Webb, it feels like I took someone else's life and used it to fill in the blanks. None of the hazy bits and pieces I remember about growing up feel like they belong to me." His face filled with cynicism and doubt. "But then isn't that just what my training would have taught me to do? Slip in and out of personalities and pasts as if they were coats to be used and then discarded when they were no longer needed."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. It kept you alive." She reminded him. "For now we'll put David Webb under the category of 'maybe'. What do you remember next?"
"My time on the run with Marie."
"There is nothing before you met her? What about when you were found or anything about your last mission?" She needed information on how he was injured. It would help her figure out why he had amnesia.
"It comes back to me in flashes of bright light. I was on a large private boat, standing in the entrance to the lounge. My weapon was drawn. I could see the top of a black man's head over the top of a couch. I should have fired then…but something…at times I think it was a noise…but…" He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to make sense of the odd pieces that haunted him. "I don't remember why or how, but I was standing behind him and there was a child…or was it children?" He shook his head in hopes of dislodging more of the lost memory, but nothing happened. It always remained the same. "I remember an innocent young face and large brown eyes. I couldn't take the shot." His fingers dug into the arms of his chair and he struggled to remember more.
"It's all right, Jason, let it come naturally." Nicky recommended.
"Then I hit the water. It was cold but it helped take away the pain of the bullets that had hit…" He reached one hand to his shoulder. "Then there was nothing, until I woke up on a French fishing boat. I didn't know who I was. Everything was blank…uh…Since the morning after the East River, I…uh…think I have had dreams or maybe it was only one dream about floating in water…it could have been either time or both, or none of them at all…I don't know."
"Were you shot anywhere else beside the shoulder? Did you receive any head injuries?"
"I've got lots of scars. One is in my left calf. I know that's from New York. Another is on my upper arm from Moscow, but the others?" He shrugged in doubt. "I don't know when I got 'em. There's one here." He touched his head above his hairline. "And another behind my right ear."
"May I check along your scalp?"
He nodded as she stood and stepped behind his chair. "Do you know how deep these were?" She ran her hands in his hair. Her sensitive fingers gently probed the scars on his head. "Sorry, didn't mean to ...uh...tickle you." She responded to the shiver that ran through his body as her finger slid along his ear. Nicky was well aware he didn't have a ticklish area on his body.
"I'm not sure, but I think there may have been stitches to the one there…behind…uh my ear when I woke up on the boat." He tipped his head, giving her extra access to the area, daring her to keep on touching him and enjoying every moment of it.
"They weren't there when you left Paris..." Her voice cracked and she pulled her hands to her sides. "May I…uh…" She cleared her throat and looked him in the eyes, daring him to tease her about being embarrassed. "Where else were you shot? Could you have bled badly while in the water?" Oxygen deprivation to the brain due to blood loss would be another reason for damage, but his symptoms weren't consistent with that kind of problem.
He took off his shirt and Nicky found five new scars that he couldn't account for and she knew had not been there when they were lovers. There was, also, a faint incision where he'd kept his information capsule.
"Any ideas?" he asked as he put his shirt back on.
"All of those scars look to be about the same age, and I've never seen or felt them before, same with the ones on your scalp." Nicky nibbled her lower lip to control the blush that was spreading across her cheeks. She tried to ignore the fact that she had once known his body so intimately.
"I have no memory of being shot, except in the shoulder, but I'm guessing they were all from that last mission. Between adrenaline and cold water, I'm not sure I would have felt much of anything."
"You are probably right." She held on tightly to the emotions that were shivering through her. He could have drowned so easily and she never would have known. "I think that is enough for today. We've been going at this for almost two hours. We will start up again at 5:00 PM."
"I'll think about your suggestion that I cut back on my workout." Just saying the words were hard for him, but he knew he'd been escaping into physical activity as far back as the fishing boat. He had a clear memory of doing chin-ups on an overhead bar that held nets. It hadn't been simply to get his muscles in shape, it had kept him from brooding about his predicament.
That night as each lay on their mattress, Jason tossed and turned. "Nicky you awake?" he whispered across the room.
"Yes."
"Did you have any specific ideas about alternate aerobics?" He'd given it a lot of thought, and had to admit he was damn tired of running sprints up and down beaches and mountain trails.
"I want to do a lot of exploring. I want to learn every twist, turn and alley in Positano. I want to know the homes that have fierce dogs and the one that don't. If there is an unmarked dead end or sudden drop-off, I want to know it. I'm never getting trapped again like in Tangier. Then I want to explore the mountain trails, learn them like the back of my hand. Find any potential hiding places and the areas to avoid. Check for high water marks, so I know where it floods in the spring and…"
"Wow and you call me obsessive." He cut in.
"Well I didn't say I was going to do it all in three days, like Mr. 'I can do anything' Bourne."
"That's good to know." He laughed for the first time since they sat down in the afternoon to begin digging into his memories. "Summer is hot and humid in this part of Italy. Learning the town and trails will be hard work, especially since everything is built on steep hills"
"So we'll bring water," she challenged. "Better to practice under the toughest conditions possible. If…when…if…well I want to be prepared. I was caught off guard the last few weeks I lived in Rome. I began having panic attacks brought on by claustrophobia. It was why I moved here." She hated admitting the weakness, but it was only fair he knew. "I never had problems with that sort of thing before Africa."
"Why didn't you say something when we went shopping? You didn't have to go along. I was glad for the help, it would have taken an extra day, but I wouldn't want to put you through that."
"I needed to see if I could do it. We were only there a few hours and I kept my cool. Now I know if we…I." she corrected, keeping in mind that he was not with her permanently. "If I have to cut through Rome for some reason, I don't need to worry about losing it at the worst possible moment."
"I'd like to add one other thing to your 'to do' list of places to investigate. The bluff where I watched the cottage should have some work done on it. As much as I'd like to set up trip-mines, I have no desire to blow up migrating animals or tourists out for a picnic. It would be best if we hid some sensors and a camera or two."
"Do we have to worry about farther up the mountains?" She rolled on her side to look toward the window and the rugged terrain she knew was out there somewhere.
"For surveillance, maybe, but this hill is so windy it would make a sniper shot of any distance almost impossible, despite all the new digitalized equipment they have nowadays. There is also the fog in the winter. If we are looking for some good exercise, it can't hurt to check it out and maybe leave behind some sensors. I picked up some that aren't sensitive until thirty pounds."
"Are we being totally paranoid? I mean if they know where we are and want to take us out, one drone strike will do it and we wouldn't see it coming." Nicky flopped back onto her mattress, her mind a whirlwind of possibilities.
"Hey, hey, relax. A drone strike on an Italian tourist town would be an embarrassment and damn hard to explain. If we're discovered, it is more likely they'll send in one operative or at most a small kill squad. We're taking all the precautions we can, but nothing is one hundred percent certain. As long as we're careful, and plan an escape in any direction, we should be all right." He tried to reassure her, but given his past he doubted he was much help.
TBC