Fic: The Safety in Lying (1/3)

[lostt1]

The world came back in pieces.

Cool air. Warm hands. Soft voice, quietly begging. And pain, sharp, sudden, everywhere.

"Come on, Jason. Please don't do this to me again."

The words were spoken barely above a whisper but the tone was urgent as soft lips brushed across the shell of his ear.

"Please Jason, I can't do this without you."

Sophia.

Jason clenched his teeth against the pain as he tried to clear his mind of the fog that had taken up residence. His shoulder was on fire. He could feel the soft tendrils of Sophia's hair brush across his face and he concentrated on the smell of her shampoo and the feel of her hands as she stroked his heated skin. He could feel her trembling against him.

Jason opened his eyes but immediately let them fall shut again. The bright lights in the room were too much, too sudden.

"Soph, can you shut off the light?" Jason coughed, his throat rough.

Sophia gasped and bent down, her lips grazing his temple.

Jason listened as she jumped back, moving across the room to do as he asked. The light disappeared and Jason cautiously opened his eyes again, squinting as he focused on the dark ceiling.

Sophia turned on the lamp, its soft glow illuminating the room. Jason glanced around, taking in their surroundings. They were in Sophia's room, the beige walls decorated with brightly colored posters from around the world. Jason focused on the lone black and white print, a shot of the Eiffel Tower, and took a deep breath, fighting back a wave of nausea.

Sophia moved back to his side and bent down, gently inserting a needle into his arm. She ducked her head and let her hair fall down in a curtain in front of her face, but not before Jason could see the puffy redness surrounding her eyes.

Jason lifted his hand, wanting to push the auburn strands away but thought better of it as his muscles pulled at his wound. He bit down on his lip but couldn't stop a pained moan from escaping.

Sophia shook her head slightly and drew her shoulders back, visibly pulling herself together. She met his eyes and gave him a small smile. "How you feelin'?"

Jason gave her a wry grin in return. "Like I've been shot." He hissed as Sophia tended to the bandage on his shoulder, pressing against the wound. "Again."

"I always told you that you need to learn to play well with others. But do you ever listen to me?"

Jason could hear the tiny tremor buried under the humor but he appreciated the effort. He didn't always deal well with serious situations. Which was funny considering his life was nothing but one serious situation followed by another.

"Yeah, well, I was always a little slow on the uptake." Jason tried to grin up at Sophia but it ended up being more of a grimace. "So what happened?"

Sophia sighed and slipped onto the bed next to him. She curled in, wrapping her body alongside his, mindful of his injuries. "I was hoping you could tell me. You never told me where you were going. I was expecting you days ago." She reached a hand up, trailing her fingers along the hard line of his jaw. "What do you remember?"

Jason closed his eyes, wincing at the familiar words. It had been two years since he first woke up with no memory of who he was or what had happened to him. And despite spending those years searching, he was no closer to having any answers. At least, no real answers. Just a bunch of puzzle pieces that didn't seem to fit together to form one complete picture.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, letting his mind replay his memories like a movie in his head.

"I was in Chicago."

Jason could feel Sophia nod but she stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"That microchip that you found embedded in my arm? It contained the number for a bank account in Chicago." Jason rubbed his hand across the soft flesh of his arm, remembering his shock when Sophia had first noticed the tiny patch of hardened skin.

The bank in Chicago was located in the heart of the city. The building was imposing with large white columns that stretched into the sky and words etched in gold. Jason had entered the gleaming lobby, eyes shooting back and forth, noting the two guards, five cameras, and single public exit. He had felt eyes on him as he crossed the tiled floor and approached the first available clerk, resisting the urge to look directly into the nearest security camera.

"The account was for a safe deposit box under the name John Michael Kane."

"Wasn't that the name-" Sophia started but her voice trailed off before she could finish.

"Yeah."

Neither one of them liked to think about the backpack he had found fifteen months ago that had contained no less than twelve passports and IDs, each bearing his face but no two names the same.

“So was it yours?” Sophia nudged him gently in the side.

“What?” Jason yawned and shook his head, trying to remain alert. “Um, yeah. Fingerprint access and everything. Definitely mine.”

The clerk, Madeline, had efficiently pulled his box from its slot before leading him to a private viewing room. She had left him with a flirtatious smile and an offer to assist him with anything he might need. Jason had given her a polite smile in return, uncomfortable with her attention.

“It had-“ Jason stopped, unsure with just how much he wanted to share with Sophia.

Sophia noticed his reluctance and reached down between their bodies, grabbing his hand. She threaded their fingers together and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Jason, I’ve already told you that nothing you find out is going to change who you are to me.”

Jason swallowed and gave a short nod. “The box...it had a gun in it, Soph. A couple of knives, more papers, more names. Money. Lots of money and not all of it American.” He hesitated, staring at the ceiling. “Who the hell am I?”

Sophia rolled onto her side and propped herself up on an elbow, staring down at him. She cupped his cheek with her free hand, thumb brushing across the cheekbone. “You’re Jason Bourne. You’re a good man who risked his life to save me. I don’t care who you were. I love who you are.”

Jason choked back his tears. “Soph...”

“Shhh...” Sophia silenced him with a tender kiss. “You need to rest now. You can tell me the rest later.”

Jason wanted to argue, wanted to tell her everything while it was fresh in his mind. He was always terrified that one day he’d wake up and everything he’d learned would be gone. That he’d be back to square one. He couldn’t let that happen. But his mind and his body were at war and his body was winning. Exhaustion weighed him down, the feeling enhanced by the drugs Sophia had given him. The pain in his shoulder had dulled some but he could still feel the sharp pull of muscles as he shifted in the bed.

As he let his body relax, Jason categorized his various aches and pains. The shoulder was obvious but there was also a dull ache in his ribs and his skin felt like it was stretched too tight.

Sophia ran her hand through his hair, the repetitive motion putting Jason at ease. She sighed. “I’m just glad I found you. The storm has gotten bad and if you hadn’t made it as far as you did-“

Jason turned his head into her hand. “I always find my way back to you. I promised.”

“Yeah, you did.” Sophia brushed her lips against his forehead and pulled away. “Now get some sleep.”

Jason closed his eyes, cursing his inability to stay awake. He wanted to argue but was smart enough to know that this was one battle he wouldn’t win.

So with one last sigh Jason relaxed and let darkness overtake him once again.



xxxxxx

Jason woke with a start, heart pounding and mind fuzzy from the pain medication. He felt the reassuring weight of Sophia’s arm across his waist and stared at the ceiling while he focused on his breathing. Once he felt more in control, he carefully slipped out from under Sophia’s grasp and stood up.

The world shifted immediately and Jason felt like the walls were moving. Reaching out, he held onto the wall and closed his eyes while he waited for the world to stop spinning.

The bathroom was cool, a tiny space heater working overtime from its place in the corner. Jason could hear the wind howling outside as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was the longest he could remember it being, the dark waves brushing his collar. The eyes staring back at him were sunken and hollow, their color dulled by the shadows beneath them. Jason looked himself in the eye, hoping, as always, for the flash of recognition. He leaned forward, his palms pressed into the cold tile.

"Who are you?" He whispered, voice harsh in the quiet room.

Jason ignored the storm raging outside and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, wishing he could wash away everything he had learned.

“You shouldn’t be up, you know.”

Jason glanced up into the mirror as Sophia’s voice, rough with sleep, broke into his thoughts. He gave her reflection a small smile and shrugged with his good shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep any longer.”

Sophia moved closer and wrapped her arms around his waist as she pressed her cheek to his back. “Another nightmare?”

Jason thought about the images plaguing him and shuddered. He nodded, not willing to speak just yet.

“Want to tell me about it?” Sophia glanced up to look at him.

“Not really,” Jason mumbled, averting his eyes. He’d give anything to keep this information to himself.

Sophia pulled back and swatted at Jason’s chest when he turned around to face her. “Tough. You’re going to tell me anyway.”

Jason clenched his teeth but couldn’t hide the flinch as Sophia’s hand came in contact with his bruised ribs.

Sophia never missed anything and her eyes widened in response.

“Oh my god, sorry,” She grabbed hold of his hand and tugged him forward, gently moving them both out of the bathroom. “Come on. Let’s go back to bed and then you can tell me all about it.”

Jason reluctantly let Sophia lead him into the bedroom. He slid back under the covers and pulled Sophia down with him, letting her curl up against his good side as he thought about what to say. He usually told her everything he learned, both good and bad. She helped him make sense out of the chaos in his head. But this-

Sophia nestled deeper into the covers. “Ok. So tell me about the dream.”

Jason gave a half shrug. “Just the same old stuff. Fights I don’t remember, places I must’ve been, weapons. Many names, same face. Everything seems so cold and clinical, especially me. I’m obviously not a good person, Soph.”

Sophia sighed. “Jason, you saved my life. You’re the best person I know. I've told you before and I'll tell you again, I don’t care what happened before I met you. The past is the past. If you don’t like what you’ve learned, maybe it’s best to leave the past alone.”

Jason remained silent. They’d had the same argument time and time again. There was nothing to be gained by pointing out that he had to know who he was, no matter what he found out. He couldn’t explain it to her. There was always something just out of his reach, something forgotten that was worth remembering. Jason knew that something was out there. He just hadn’t found it yet.

“Is it really so bad? Being here with me?”

“No, you know it’s not that.” Jason tightened his arm around Sophia’s shoulders, pulling her closer. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. “I love being here with you. You’re my best friend.”

“But only a friend.”

Sophia’s voice was quiet but Jason could hear the underlying pain. Not for the first time, he wished he could give her what she wanted, be who she wanted him to be. But there was always something stopping him. "You don't want me. Not really."

"Liar." Sophia sniffled and shrugged her shoulder. “Anyway, back to the subject. I’m sure there was more to your nightmare, something you don’t want to tell me. But you know you have to talk about it, Jason.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not good to keep everything locked up inside of you.” Sophia tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “Just tell me. Please.”

Jason bit his lip. “But what if you hate me?”

"I could never-" Sophia frowned as her fingers slowly traced the puckered scar left behind by the bullet that had been meant for her. “Why would I hate you?”

Jason averted his eyes. If he was going to tell her what he’d learned, he’d do it without facing her. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching the horror fill her gentle eyes.

“That day, the day I saved you.” Jason took a deep breath, the next words rushing out on the exhale.

“I was supposed to kill you.”

"I know."

Jason's eyes snapped back in Sophia's direction. "What?"

"I said I know," she repeated. She lifted up on one arm and looked down at him, eyes soft.

"How?" Jason wasn't sure how to handle Sophia's confession. He had been tearing himself apart trying to figure out how to tell her about his new discovery and apparently she knew it all along. "You knew? And you let me -"

Jason couldn't hide the betrayal he felt.

"I only figured it out a few months ago," Sophia rushed to explain, seeing his hurt expression. "Austin kept telling me that the story he had been working on was big. He said it was so big, it could put a couple of really powerful politicians in hot water. He called it blackbriar, blackrock, black...something. He told me that if anything ever happened to him, I was to run as far as I could and to never look back."

"And you didn't think being shot at might have had something to do with his warning?" Jason stared up at Sophia with wide-eyed disbelief.

"No, I did think exactly that," Sophia averted her eyes, focusing on the bedspread, a loose thread pulled tight between two fingers. "I just didn't think you had anything to do with it at first. It was crowded that day. I never actually heard the shots. One minute Tom and I were walking across the restaurant to meet up with Austin and the next-" Her voice trailed off, her words thick with emotion.

Jason waited patiently for her to continue. He had heard most of this before and knew how difficult it was for Sophia to remember that horrible afternoon.

"He was there one second and gone the next. I saw him collapse. There was so much blood. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't." She reached for Jason's hand and squeezed it tight. "And then you were there. You knocked into me and we both fell. But you hit your head on one of tables and it knocked you out. Tom was the one who noticed you were shot and he's the one who figured out that someone had tried to kill me. But you saved me. So he helped me drag you out of there."

"Why?" Jason asked then, just as he always did. "Why take me with you? Why not just leave me and run? That's what I would've done."

"I honestly doubt that." Sophia shrugged. "I don't know. You saved my life and you were hurt. I couldn't just leave you there. I was worried that someone might try to hurt you for helping me." She chewed on her bottom lip. "I just couldn't. And when you finally woke up, you didn't remember who you were. You were injured and you were helpless and you saved me."

"What if I tried to kill you again, Sophia?" Jason growled. "What then? You took such a risk when you brought me here. You didn't know me. What if-"

"What if what, Jason?" Sophia sighed. "You didn't try to kill me in the first place. You saved my life and I thought you were dying. I had just seen my boyfriend die in front of me. I wasn't exactly thinking very clearly."

Jason exhaled slowly. He knew getting upset wasn't going to get him anywhere. He forced himself to calm down. "So when did you figure it out?"

"When we found that backpack," Sophia admitted. "So what else did you find out? And stop trying to protect me by keeping things from me."

"I don't know much more than what you apparently already know," Jason admitted. "Like I said earlier, I found more papers in that safety deposit box. I didn't recognize the names in the first two files, but the third one was all about Austin."

"What about me? Was I in it?" Sophia trembed, as if she were afraid of his answer.

Jason shook his head. "There wasn't much on you outside of the fact that you were Austin's girlfriend and your routines, like having lunch at that restaurant every Tuesday. There were other details, but nothing major. You obviously weren't considered a threat."

"So how do you know you were supposed to kill me?"

Jason shrugged his shoulder. "Because you were considered collateral damage. The file didn't contain much information on you, but it did say that it was too risky to keep you alive. Better safe than sorry. Soph, what if I gave them the information that-"

"Jay, no, stop it." Sophia rested her head on his chest. "Don't do this to yourself. You said it yourself, Austin and I went there every week, without fail. But what if his editor had kept him in the office five minutes longer? What if we tried eating somewhere new, just that once? The what ifs will just drive you crazy. Trust me, I know."

Jason wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, burying his nose in her hair. "But what if I killed Austin?" he whispered.

"You didn't," she replied, her voice muffled as she pressed her face into Jason's shirt.

"How do you know that?"

Sophia pulled her head back and lifted up, resting on her elbows as she stared down at him. She gave him a small smile.

"I just do."

xxxxxx

Two days later, Jason woke to find the world on the other side of the wall silent and calm, the storm finally a thing of the past. He crawled out of bed and made his way to the window, wincing as his bare feet came in contact with the cold floor.

"So you finally decided to join the world of the living." Jason could hear the smile in Sophia's voice as he turned to greet her. "And just in time, too. Tom should be here in a couple of hours with some groceries. I'm sure you could probably use something a bit more solid than soup."

"I could eat," Jason replied. His stomach suddenly growled, accenting his statement and Sophia laughed.

"Color me surprised." Sophia moved across the room to the bed and tugged the comforter off, throwing it onto the floor.

"Soph, come on, you don't have to-" Jason stopped suddenly when he heard a noise, the soft snick of the front door shutting.

"Jason, what-"

Jason held up his hand, cutting Sophia off. He brought a finger to his lips and moved quietly across the floor. He pressed up against the wall, straining his ears to hear anything unusual. The squeak of an old floorboard broke the silence. Jason pulled Sophia closer to him. "There's someone in the house."

Sophia tilted her head up and brought her lips to his ear. "Maybe it's Tom?"

Jason shook his head. "Tom would have announced himself." He could feel Sophia trembling in his arms. He pressed his forehead to hers, hoping to bring her a moment of calm. "We have to get to the basement. Think you can help me?"

Jason knew he was still weak from his injury, but he knew he could protect them if he had to. Sophia, though, needed something else to focus on and if helping him was that task, then Jason felt it was the least he could do for her.

Sophia closed her eyes and Jason could see her pull herself together. "Yeah, I can help. Come on, we'll take the back hallway."

Together they made their way down the hall, Sophia leading the way. She held her breath as she twisted the knob on the basement door, tossing a shaky smile at Jason when it opened without a sound.

Jason moved forward, running his hand along the wall as he tried to navigate the stairs in the fading daylight. He heard the soft click behind him and he turned, finding himself face-to-face with solid wood. "Soph-" he whispered, unwilling to raise his voice, fearing for Sophia's safety.

"Shhh..." Sophia's voice could barely be heard from the other side of the door. "You've spent the past two years protecting me. Now it's my turn to protect you. Please, Jason, just let me do this."

Jason growled, the sound a low rumble in the back of his throat. Sophia was insane. They didn't know who had broken into the house and now she was-

Jason took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Almost immediately, his body reacted. His breathing slowed and his muscles tightened, the adrenaline pumping through his veins preparing him to fight. He needed a weapon, something he could use to protect them both.

When Jason reached the bottom of the stairs, a shot rang out, piercing the silence and making him jump. It was followed by a dull thud and then nothing.

He held still, watching and waiting. A dark shadow passed over a crack in the floor, spurring Jason to action. He darted underneath the stairs as the door slowly opened.

Jason focused on his breathing, inhaling and exhaling in a slow, easy pattern.

The stairs were open in the back and Jason watched as the thick sole of a boot stepped carefully onto the stair in front of his face. The man looked huge from Jason's perspective, but he couldn't be more than six feet tall. He was dressed in dark jeans and an olive green jacket, which Jason could only assume would help him blend in with the night.

Jason could feel his muscles tense up as he waited for the right moment. Seeing his chance, he reached through the slats and wrapped his fingers around the guy's ankle and yanked on it, pulling his foot out from under him. The guy tumbled forward, twisting his body as he fell, his right side taking the brunt of the fall. When he hit the bottom, he jumped to his feet and Jason rushed forward, knocking into him with his good shoulder.

The attacker stumbled back a few steps, his back crashing into the wall. Blue eyes narrowed, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun.

Jason planted his left foot on the ground and kicked out with his right, managing to catch the barrel of the gun and sending it flying. Jason dove for the weapon but the guy was on him in an instant, his large hand squeezing Jason's shoulder, fingers digging into the healing wound.

Jason grit his teeth against the pain and ducked down, twisting his body so his back was to his attacker. He pushed back, slamming the man against the wall. He did it again and again until the guy's grip on his shoulder weakened, giving him the chance to escape from his hold.

Jason's eyes scanned the room, looking for anything he could use. He grabbed a pair of pliers from a dusty ledge and reached behind him, crying out in pain as his stitches pulled on tender skin. He clamped the tool down on a finger and squeezed, taking pleasure as the man grunted. If that was the only sound he'd make, Jason decided he'd take what he could get.

The man tried to wrap his arm around Jason's neck but Jason ducked low, bringing the pliers around and slamming it into the side of his attacker's head. The man retaliated with a fist to Jason's face, Jason's head snapping back with the force. It was followed up with another punch followed by a kick to the gut that forced Jason backwards and into the washer.

He grunted as his hip smashed into the corner of the appliance. He grabbed the box of detergent and threw it in the direction of his attacker.

The room filled with a fine powder and the man, unprepared, got a face full of the stuff. He clawed at his eyes and Jason took advantage of the distraction, darting across the room and swiping the gun up off the floor. Without hesitation, he brought the gun up and shot.

The bullet slammed into the man's chest and he fell backwards, stumbling until he finally collapsed on the floor. Jason walked over to the man and stared down at him, his eyes drawn to the tattoo of a dragon peeking out from beneath the man's jacket, the scales and claws wrapping around his forearm. It was familiar, but Jason didn't know why.

"Who are you?" Jason growled, aiming the gun at the man's head. "Who sent you?"

The man said nothing, his blue eyes showing no fear in the face of certain death.

"Who. Are. You?" Jason repeated through clenched teeth. When the man still refused to answer, Jason closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

The gun fell to the ground with a clatter and Jason headed for the stairs.

xxxxxx

Sophia's body lay sprawled across the old wood floor, her blood painting it red. Jason didn't have to check for a pulse. He could tell she was dead, her life gone the second the bullet had pierced her brain.

Jason stumbled into the bedroom and grabbed the comforter off the floor. He stared at the sheets, half on and half off the bed, before making his way back into the living room.

He dropped to his knees next to Sophia and covered her with the bedspread. He reached out and gently tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He ran a hand across his face, his body trembling as he struggled to breathe through the pain.

He allowed himself a moment to truly grieve for the loss of one of the strongest people he knew, one of the only people he knew. His friend. He allowed himself that moment and then he locked the emotions up, pushing them to the back of his mind and stuffing them inside a box.

He had work to do.

xxxxxx

"Sir? You asked to see me?"

"Update?"

The young agent hesitated before entering the dark office. He brushed his hand down his sides, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in his suit.

"Any day now, Tigerman."

"Sorry, sir." The agent paused, gearing up to deliver the bad news. He quickly ran a hand through his short, dark hair and took a deep breath. "It's been confirmed. Mission failed. We lost Green."

Deputy Director Fox leaned forward, elbows resting on the desktop as he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He dropped his hand, pounding the palm flat against the wood and glared at the young man in front of him. He stood up, towering over his assistant. "How did this happen? I thought you told me Bourne was wounded."

"I don't-"

"Don't even think about telling me you don't know."

"Yes, sir." Tigerman dropped further back into the shadows and glanced at the door, eyeing his escape. He sighed. "Bourne was shot in the right shoulder four days ago about an hour outside of Chicago. Our agent was able to track him to a small town south of Springfield."

"I know all of this already," Fox growled, his boyish good looks marred by a permanent scowl. "Just get to the point."

"Sir." Tigerman drew in a shaky breath. He tugged on the hem of his suit jacket and forced his eyes up, meeting his boss's angry stare.

"How exactly did a wounded man manage to overtake one of our best agents? Answer me that."

Tigerman inhaled and stood up straight. "Sir, with all due respect, Bourne was our best agent for years. Even wounded-"

Fox held up a hand, cutting the young agent off. He knew just how good Bourne was, knew him better than anyone remaining in the Sector. Once he took over Operation Blackrock, Bourne had been his responsibility, his first real success, his only true failure. He was only forty-four, so he still had time. But Bourne was the reason he had gotten so far in the Agency. "Did we manage to get anything from the house?"

"No sir," Tigerman willed himself to stare back at the director. "The place had been wiped clean, only Green's body had been left behind."

Fox frowned. "But you're sure it's Bourne?"

Tigerman shrugged. "Who else would take the time to remove themselves completely from a scene? But we don't think he's alone."

Fox didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

Tigerman refrained from smirking at his boss. After two years of nothing, they finally had some new information. "I don't believe the house was Bourne's. It definitely belonged to a female. We're working to gather information about the house and the land, but we're certain now that Bourne is traveling with a woman. Possibly the reporter's girlfriend. She disappeared along with Bourne, after all."

"Good. Start there." Fox nodded and slouched back in his seat. He rubbed his thumb along his jaw. His beard was getting a little unruly. He'd have to trim it soon. "Find me everything you can. I want to know who she is, what she does for a living, everywhere she's been for the past five years. And I want it yesterday."

"Yes, sir."

"And activate all of the Sector's assets. I want them all out there."

"Wait. All of them? At the same time?"

Fox pointed a finger in Tigerman's direction, face stern. "Did I stutter? All of them" he repeated. "It's been two years. Don't fuck this up. I want Bourne in a body bag by sundown. And Tigerman?"

"Yes sir?"

"Get me Ferris."

Tigerman frowned. "But sir-"

Fox sighed and picked an imaginary piece of lint from his jacket sleeve. "Tigerman, how many direct orders are you going to question?"

"Sorry sir, I'll get right on that." Tigerman backed out the doorway, eager to make his escape. He had some calls to make if he didn't want Fox breathing down his neck.

Two years. Time to end things or none of them would make it to three.

xxxxxx

The night was cold and dark, a typical Midwestern evening. Jason listened to the water of the mighty Mississippi River beat against the concrete shore as he made his way down a dark alley, away from the hustle and bustle of the Landing. He wasn't in the mood to deal with crowds. The emptiness inside him was threatening to devour him and he just didn't want to deal with people. He just wanted to have a drink and fade into the background for awhile.

The Tavern was a hole-in-the-wall bar he had discovered only months after moving to St. Louis. It was located only blocks away from the city's more upscale clubs, but inside, it seemed miles away. The bar prided itself on its clientele. It was known only to the locals, tucked away from the various college campuses. It was the hiding place for many men. Good men, hard workers who liked to stop for a beer on their way home from work on the river or in one of the many nearby plants. Men who were content to keep to themselves, wanting nothing more than a few minutes of solitude before returning to the chaos of their home lives.

Jason entered the bar and nodded to the bartender. He liked the Tavern. He felt comfortable there. No one cared who he was or where he was from. They kept to themselves and left him alone. He liked the solitude the bar provided. It felt safer. Not for him, but for everyone else.

He slipped onto a barstool at the far end of the bar, facing the door. The surroundings were familiar, but the need to know just who was there and where they were sitting was too great. He held up a finger, signaling the bartender for a beer, as he scanned the room.

It was a quiet night, still early in the week. There were a few occupied tables and a couple of guys playing pool at the tables near the windows, most were regulars but there were a couple of new faces scattered around the room. Jason felt himself begin to relax, if only a little.

Just a couple of drinks, that was all. Then he'd pick up and move on. He could feel that his time in this city was almost up. He could feel the proverbial breath on the back of his neck.

Jason knew he'd never be safe.

xxxxxx

It had been a good day. The second book was doing well, already four weeks on the best seller's list and still going strong. His agent had called earlier to tell him that the third book was a go. As soon as he figured out what the book was going to be about, that is. But that could wait until later. For now, he just wanted to sit back, relax, have a few beers with his friend, and bask in his success.

The door to the bar swung open and a gust of cold air chilled his heated skin, causing him to shiver. He should have insisted that Mike find a table further from the entrance, but it was too late. He lifted the bottle to his lips and almost choked as the tall figure made his way across the floor to a seat on the far side of the bar. His long, dark hair fell forward as his eyes scanned the bar, as if searching for someone. Jensen's breath caught as familiar slanted eyes caught his before quickly flitting away.

No. It couldn't be...could it?

"Jensen?"

Jensen heard his name fall from Mike's lips but he couldn't drag his eyes away from the man at the bar. He tried to remain calm even as hope bubbled up in his chest.

"Jensen? Man, are you alright?" Mike knocked his bottle of beer against Jensen's, trying to get his attention. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Jensen knew he should say something, acknowledge his friend's concern over his sudden silence. He should, but first he just had to-

He was out of his chair and moving towards the bar without another moment's hesitation, the long-familiar name playing in his head on constant repeat.

Jared. Jared, Jared, Jared.

xxxxxx

Tigerman rubbed a hand across his weary eyes. He'd been staring at the same report for the past hour and he had yet to find anything new. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the laptop a warm weight on his lap.

Fox sat across from him, staring down at the files spread across his desk. He shuffled a few pages, pushing them aside as a sharp knock sounded at the closed door.

"Enter."

The door opened and a woman strode inside, her long dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. The bright white civilian visitor badge was a stark contrast to her crisp black suit. She gave Tigerman a small smile. "Gabe." Her gaze turned to the senior agent and the room seemed to grow colder. "Fox."

Fox returned her stare. "Ferris."

Tigerman watched the two of them with barely concealed interest.

"So what's so important that you had to pull me from my simple civilian life?" Ferris asked, her dark brown eyes scanning the room.

"Bourne's on the loose." Fox took in Ferris's raised eyebrow and got straight to the point. There was no time to lose. "Two years ago, Bourne was on assignment. He failed to complete the assignment and has been AWOL ever since. A week ago, we received a phone call from one of our assets in Chicago. Bourne had been spotted at the Bank of Chicago. We managed to track him to a farm in Blue Mound, Illinois, about an hour south of Springfield. Our asset engaged him in combat. The asset was killed and Bourne has escaped once again. We need you to help us find him."

Ferris cocked her head to the side, gaze assessing. "Why me?"

Fox turned his focus back to the papers on his desk. "You know him best. You brought him into the Sector, after all."

"I did," Ferris agreed. She waited silently for Fox to give her his full attention. When he looked up at her, she continued. "But you forced me out of the Sector. Blackrock was my baby. Mine. Why should I help you recover something you stole from me in the first place?"

"Because it's your duty as an American citizen."

"Oh please." Ferris snorted. "Spare me the propaganda. I'm not one of your wide-eyed agents, eager to please your every whim. I'm not stupid."

Tigerman shot a quick glance at Ferris before turning his attention back to the computer he was working on. He knew that when these two went head-to-head, explosions were inevitable. And he didn't want to be caught in the middle. Not again.

"Fine." Fox growled. "Then how about the fact that what Jason knows can bring the entire Sector to its knees?"

"Not my problem any longer, is it?" Ferris glared at man in front of her. The two of them stared each other down, the silence in the room filled with tension. Ferris sighed. "I'll help, but I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for him. Let me be clear on that."

Fox shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You were always too soft when it came to the assets. And that is why you're no longer in charge."

"Do you want my help or not?" Ferris waved her hand through the air, not waiting for a response. "I do have a couple of conditions."

Fox just lifted an eyebrow and waited.

Ferris's lips pressed together to form a tight line. "I want you down on your knees. Right now."

Fox stared at her. "I'm not going to beg."

Ferris shrugged. "You asked for my help. Operation Blackrock was my project. Bourne was my agent, my protégé. You took everything that belonged to me and if you think I'm just going to help you out of the kindness of my heart, you obviously never knew me that well to begin with." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Now maybe I didn't make myself clear. On. Your. Knees."

Tigerman shot an uneasy glance at his boss before slipping out of his chair.

"Not you, Tigerman." Ferris said, her eyes never leaving the Deputy Director. "This is between me and Fox."

The young agent stood up and brushed his hands down the front of his suit, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the cheap fabric.

"And maybe you didn't hear me," Fox growled. "I said I wasn't going to-"

"You want my help, you listen to me. Starting now." Ferris interrupted. She glared at Fox. "Do I need to repeat myself? I'm pretty sure the instructions were easy enough that even you should be able to understand them."

Fox grit his teeth as he stared down the former agent. He was not going to subject himself to any humiliating displays, not for her. "No."

"Suit yourself," Ferris shrugged and turned her back to him as she headed for the door. "But don't come crying to me when Bourne tears the Sector apart one agent at a time."

"Wait."

Ferris stopped but didn't turn around.

"Fine," Fox forced out through clenched teeth as he slowly lowered himself down to the ground. "Ferris, would you please help us retrieve Jason Bourne?"

Ferris turned back to face him, her lips twisted into a smirk. "Was that so hard?"

"Is that all?" Fox asked, ignoring her question. "You did say you had a couple of conditions."

"For now," Ferris shrugged. "I'll let you know later what my other conditions are."

Fox rolled his eyes and climbed to his feet. "You know we may not be able to save Bourne. He knows too much and if he's not willing to come quietly, we'll have to destroy him before he can destroy us." His eyes followed Ferris as she paced back and forth across the office.

"Let's get one thing clear," Ferris stopped walking and turned to glare at Fox, her eyes hard and unforgiving. "You asked for my help so while Jason is still out there, you defer to me. I will be calling the shots and when we find him - which we will - it will be my decision what we do with him."

Fox took a deep breath and pushed the anger down. "Fine."

"Good." Ferris grinned and turned to Tigerman, who was still cowering in his corner. "I want an update in ten minutes on everything that has happened here since I was forced out. And I do mean everything. No detail is unimportant."

"Yes ma'am," Tigerman nodded before making his escape.

Ferris looked over at Fox. "That's all for now. You're dismissed."

"You can't dismiss me. It's my office!"

Ferris stared at him as she slipped into the chair behind the heavy oak desk. "And get me some coffee. Two sugars, one creamer."

Fox's hands clenched into fists but he knew this was one fight he wasn't going to win. Like it or not, he needed Ferris. She could bring him Bourne and he needed Bourne gone. He had too much to lose. "Get your own coffee," he growled as he stormed out of the room.

Ferris smiled as she slipped the headset on and punched a long familiar code into the phone. Her smile widened when she heard the telltale clicks followed by silence.

"Hello boys, Mother's home."

xxxxxx

Jason took a drink from his bottle of beer and watched as the stranger approached, silently assessing him. The guy was tall, approximately six feet tall, had short, dark hair, and piercing green eyes that grew wider the closer he got to the bar. He had a scruffy beard that gave him a rugged edge. His faded jeans and black sweater were well worn, obviously comfortable, and weren't flashy, but Jason could tell they were designer brand. The guy clearly had money, but his wealth was understated.

The guy stopped less than two feet from Jason and stared. He swallowed, clearly nervous, and Jason felt the tension leave his body. This guy obviously wasn't one of the dicks with guns he'd been fighting off more and more lately. Unless he was a great actor. Not impossible, but also not likely. There was something about him, something vaguely familiar. It set Jason at ease.

"Jared. Holy fuck, it's really you." The guy's voice was soft, the words shaky.

Jason mentally ran through all of the various ids he had found so far, trying to recall if he'd seen the name "Jared" on any of them. Nothing came to mind, so he decided to play along. He gave the guy a small smile.

"Hey man. Wow, how long has it been?"

"Eight years, nine months, and twenty days," the guy immediately replied. He shrugged his shoulders and blushed. "But then again, who's counting?"

Jason's beer hit the counter with a heavy thud.

The guy rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Wow. That's not how I saw this happening." He exhaled and motioned to the empty stool next to Jason. "You mind if I sit?"

"It's a free country," Jason replied. He watched as the guy took a seat.

Eight years? Jason's mind raced. If this guy knew him eight years ago, he could have the answers Jason was looking for.

The guy motioned to the bartender. He seemed uncomfortable as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. His hands were shaking and the worn leather slipped through his fingers as he tried to pull out a few dollar bills.

Jason's quick reflexes kicked in and he grabbed the wallet before it could hit the ground. He glanced quickly at the driver's license inside before handing it over, the action smooth and practiced.

Jensen from Dallas.

"Thanks," Jensen mumbled, tucking his wallet away once again. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before glancing over at Jason. "God, this is ridiculous. I don't know why I'm so nervous."

Jason shrugged. "It's been awhile?"

"That's putting it mildly," Jensen agreed. "God, I can't believe you're here. Everyone said I should give up, that you were long gone, maybe even dead. I always hoped I'd find you, though. I never stopped looking."

"So I was missing?" Jason frowned.

"You took off running like a bat out of hell and I never saw you again." Jensen snorted. "So yeah, I'd say you were missing. You didn't even stop by the house to grab anything. You were just gone."

"Sorry," Jason mumbled, though he didn't really know why he was apologizing. It just seemed like the thing to do.

"And here you are, in St. Louis of all places." Jensen turned in his seat, facing Jason, lips drawn in a tight line. "Where the fuck have you been, Jared?"

"Jensen?"

Jason - or Jared, if the guy was for real - watched as another man approached them, the low light bouncing off his shaved head. He was frowning, his eyes broadcasting his concern.

Jensen glanced up at the guy and sighed. "Hey Mike, sorry for running off on you." He took a swig from his bottle of beer.

"No problem, man," Mike replied, cocking his head to the side as he gave Jared a once-over through narrowed blue eyes. "You going to introduce me to your new pal here?"

"Mike, meet Jared. Jared, Mike."

"Jared? As in-"

"Yup." Jensen set his empty bottle on the counter and motioned to the bartender. "The one and only."

"Holy shit."

"Um, hi." Jared gave a small wave and started picking at the label on his bottle. "Sorry, but I seem to be at a disadvantage here."

Jensen exhaled and raked his fingers through his hair. "Hey Mike, can I meet you back at the hotel? I just want to catch up with Jared here."

Mike nodded and pulled his coat tighter across his shoulders. "Sure man, just call if you decide you're not coming back tonight." He leered at his friend. "And don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Jensen rolled his eyes. "There's nothing you wouldn't do. Now go away."

"True." Mike chuckled and reached out a hand to Jared. "Nice to finally meet you, Jared. I've heard so much about you."

Jared shook his hand, his grip firm. "You too. I can honestly say I know nothing about you."

"Well Jenny here will just have to fix that, now won't he?" Mike laughed, backing away. "See ya, Jenny."

As Mike made his exit, Jared looked over at Jensen and raised an eyebrow. "Jenny?"

"Don't ask," Jensen growled. His eyes narrowed. "Speaking of asking, I have a lot of questions for you."

Jared sighed. "I doubt I'll have many answers for you."

"Well try," Jensen replied, voice suddenly low and angry. "You were my best friend and you left without a word. Everyone thought you were dead. You owe me an explanation."

"Can I just apologize and be done with it?"

"No."

Jared shrugged. "Can't blame a man for trying."

A chilled gust of wind blew across the bar, announcing a new arrival.

Jared watched the new guy as he made his way to the bar. Jared estimated he was approximately the same height as him and the way he carried himself told Jared that the guy knew how to handle himself in a fight. His strong jaw and short cropped dark hair gave him the air of someone you don't want to mess with. He was wearing a heavy jacket, but it did nothing to disguise the solid muscle underneath. Jared tilted his head in Jensen's direction, but his focus was entirely on the newcomer. There was something about him that sounded warning bells in Jared's head.

"Hey, I'll be right back," Jared turned to Jensen and motioned vaguely in the direction over his shoulder.

"You're not taking off on me again, are you?" Jensen frowned, his earlier anger gone as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him looking unsure. "I swear I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to know why you...it's been so long and-"

"Nah, already forgotten, man." Jared interrupted him. "I just really gotta go." Jared wanted to promise Jensen he'd be back and that they could spend the night catching up or whatever. Jared figured Jensen was the key to unraveling the mystery he'd been trying to solve for years. But he couldn't make that promise and he refused to lie. There were already more than enough lies in his life.

"Ok," Jensen sighed. "I'll get you another beer."

"Sounds good."

Jared crossed the bar and turned down the dark hallway that lead to the restrooms. He saw the new arrival stand up out of the corner of his eye and head his direction.

If Jared had learned one thing since waking up that day long ago, it was that there was no such thing as coincidence. He slipped through the door and scanned the bathroom, quickly getting a feel for its layout. He moved to one of the urinals and took a deep breath.

Three...two...one.

The door closed with a soft thud.

Jared tightened his grip on the fork he'd grabbed from a booth as he'd passed. He waited, counting to ten before he swung around and attacked, hoping to catch the other man by surprise.

Unfortunately, the man was ready for him. His arm shot up, preventing Jared's fist from making contact and Jared retaliated by punching out with his other fist, the tines of the fork drawing blood.

Jared turned off his mind and let his body react, trading blows and kicks with the man, their bodies moving together in a violent dance.

Jared dropped to the floor and swept his leg along the floor. The man jumped over it but failed to anticipate the second rotation as Jared let his own momentum twist him around again. When the man collapsed, Jared was on him in an instant, fists flying.

The attacker's legs kicked out as Jared dragged him across the floor and into the nearest stall.

"Jared, you in here?"

Jared ignored the interruption and slammed the man's head into the base of the toilet. He wrapped his fists in the guy's jacket to get more leverage and slammed his head against the porcelain a second time.

"Jared!" Jensen sounded panicked as he slid across the slick tile and came to a stop at the stall. He stared down at the two men, a look of horror on his face. "What are you doing?"

The attacker was holding onto consciousness by a thin thread. Jared pushed him away, making a face as the man's head cracked against the floor. He climbed to his feet and brushed his hands on his pants before moving to the sink. "What I always do," he replied, turning on the tap. "Staying alive."

"Was he going to kill you?" Jensen asked, staring at Jared's reflection in the mirror, his expression somewhere between terrified and curious.

Jared shrugged and ripped a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall. "He was going to try." He paused. "Well, he did try."

"So it was self defense?"

"I wasn't going to let him punch me in the face, if that's what you're asking." Jared sighed. "Look, if you check his pockets, you'll probably find a gun or two, military-issue. Maybe an id, but I wouldn't hold your breath on that one."

Jensen frowned and stared down at the unconscious man. He gave a short nod, as if coming to a decision. "It's like that time I had to fight Timmy Stephens so he'd leave you alone. I didn't want to, but he just coming at us and wouldn't stop. I mean, it's different, but it's sort of the same."

Jared snorted. "Yes, Jensen, it's sort of the same." He pushed off the wall and headed for the door. "Look, man, it was great seeing you, but I've gotta-"

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"Away," Jared motioned at the guy slumped against the far wall. "I obviously can't stay here."

Jensen's eyes shot over to the prone figure before landing back on Jared. He shook his head, slowly at first but then with more force. "No. No way. I just found you. I'm not about to let you go, not again."

"Well I'm leaving." Jared moved toward the door. He hesitated. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a second before turning back to Jensen. He tilted his head toward the exit. "You coming?"

Jared headed for the exit and didn't look back. He didn't want to lose this connection to his past but he really did need to get out of there in case backup arrived.

He heard quick footsteps move across the floor and then Jensen was there, a warm presence at his side.

"So where we going?" Jensen asked, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.

Jared glanced over with a quick smile. "I know just the place."

xxxxxx

Jared headed straight for Ed's, a tiny diner ten blocks away from the bar. He wanted to get further away but couldn't just yet. Not until he figured out more about this Jensen guy, figured out what he knew.

"So you live around here?"

Jared glanced over at Jensen and watched his eyes take in their surroundings. Jared pressed closer to the wall, deeper into the shadows, and smiled as Jensen unconsciously moved with him.

"Yeah," Jared gestured to the east. "Over near the river. About a year and a half now. What about you?"

"Still in Texas, but I travel a lot." Jensen said. "I'm a writer."

"Cool," Jared nodded his head. He glanced over his shoulder and after determining they weren't being followed, he grabbed Jensen's elbow and tugged him to the right. Together they darted across the street and slipped into the diner.

"You written anything I may have read?" Jared asked as they slipped into an unoccupied booth.

"If you're asking, then apparently not." Jensen shrugged. "How about you? What are you doing nowadays?"

Jared gave him a sharp grin. "Well, now, if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Jensen laughed but it wasn't a happy laugh. He shook his head. "Somehow, I don't think you're kidding about that.'

"Jensen, about that guy-" Jared paused, trying to find his words. "He-"

Jensen waved off his broken explanation. "Just don't. To be honest, I'm not sure I want to know."

Jared closed his mouth and stared down at the table, his fingers tearing at the paper napkin. An uncomfortable silence fell between them and Jared didn't know how to break it. He wasn't good with words. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd needed them. Sophia had always been able to read him without needing him to say a word. And with her gone...he forced the train of thoughts to the back of his mind where they belonged.

"Can I get you boys anything to drink?"

Jared glanced up to find the waitress watching him, her pen loosely held in her hand. He gave her a small smile. "I'll take a coffee. And a burger and fries, too, if it's not too much trouble."

The waitress smiled down at him. "No trouble at all, darlin'." She turned to Jensen and Jared returned his focus to the tabletop. "And how about you?"

"I'll have what he's having."

"I'll have that up for you in a jiffy."

Jared listened as the waitress's retreated behind the counter, the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking as she crossed the worn linoleum. He took a deep breath and looked up to find Jensen staring at him with a sad look on his face.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Jared tried to smile, but he knew it was more of a grimace. "What gave me away?"

"Everything?" Jensen shrugged. "I can just tell. You're different. It's more than just being gone for eight years. You're a completely different person."

"Don't take it personally," Jared said, wanting to wipe the pained expression from Jensen's face. "I don't actually remember anything before two years ago."

"Nothing?"

"Nope."

"Huh." Jensen's lips drew into a tight line. "Nothing?"

Jared began tearing at the napkin again. "Nothing personal, at least. But there are other things. I come in here and the first thing I'm doing is counting the exits. I can tell you that there are five cars in the lot and two of them are from out-of-state. I can tell you our waitress has a bad knee simply by how she walks and the guy sitting at the counter weighs approximately 220 pounds and can handle himself in a fight. Now how can I know that? How can I know that and not know who I am?"

"Wow, can you make any money off of that?"

Jared gave a bitter laugh. "So tell me, Jensen. Who am I?"

Jensen leaned forward, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a picture, handing it over to Jared. "Your name is Jared Padalecki, you're twenty-five years old, and you're my best friend." Jensen gave him a soft smile before dropping his gaze to stare at the torn pieces of Jared's napkin scattered across the table. "And eight years ago, we had a fight and you disappeared without a trace."

Jared took a second to process the new information as he stared at the worn picture in front of him. It was clearly him, taken several years ago. He was tall and skinny, all arms and legs, as if he'd just had a growth spurt and his body hadn't had time to fill out. His arm was wrapped around a younger version of Jensen and they both had wide grins as they goofed off for the camera. Jared couldn't help but smile at the image. The smile fell as he thought about what Jensen had said. "Wait. I'm only twenty-five?"

Jensen looked at him, an amused tilt to his lips. "How old did you think you were?"

"Just turned thirty, at least according to the license I had when I woke up." Jared shrugged. "Jason Bourne, born March 1, 1978."

Jensen stared at him. "That's my birthday. Jensen Ackles, born March 1, 1978."

"Huh." Jared frowned, mind racing. "Jason sounds a bit like Jensen, don't you think?"

"A bit. That on purpose?" Jensen asked.

"Beats me." Jared admitted, though he had the feeling it was. "So what else?"

Before Jensen could say anything, the waitress returned with their order. He took a sip of his coffee before dousing his fries with ketchup.

Jared tucked into his burger, waiting patiently.

"Well ok then. Jared Padalecki, this is your life." Jensen grinned and popped a fry into his mouth. "We both grew up outside of Dallas but you were actually born in San Antonio-"

Jared leaned back and listened to Jensen's words, tales of a life he didn't remember leading. Jensen told him about the tragic accident that took his parents' lives. Their mothers had been best friends for years and since there were no living relatives, the Ackles were named legal guardians of seven-year-old Jared.

"God, I hated you so much at first," Jensen chuckled. "You were so little and cute and my parents were always bending over backwards to try to make you smile. I was an only child and all of the sudden, I had to share my parents with someone else. I was so jealous of you. You seemed to have everything I wanted."

"My parents had just died and you wanted to be me?" Jared quirked an eyebrow and Jensen blushed.

"I was eleven, dude. No one expects an eleven year old to make sense."

Jared shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I take it you got over your ridiculous jealousy."

Jensen popped the last of his burger into his mouth and chewed slowly. "Yeah. Mom threatened to ground me if I didn't stop being mean to you. And she is one scary lady when she wants to be, let me tell you." He pushed his empty plate to the side and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "When I finally stopped being a jerk, it turned out we had a lot in common. After that, things just clicked. We were pretty much inseparable right up until I went off to college."

Jared listened intently as Jensen told him story after story of their escapades during their youth. He didn't remember any of it, but he let the soothing tone of Jensen's voice wash over him. Jared could tell Jensen was hiding something, the details of his stories not quite adding up, but he didn't call him on it. If Jensen didn't want to tell him, he wasn't going to pressure him for more information.

Yet.

Jensen gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Dude, I've been talking all night. You must be sick of listening to me talk."

"Actually, I like hearing you talk," Jared admitted, his face heating up with embarrassment. "I pretty much always have a headache, ever since waking up with no memory of who I am. You help me focus on something other than the pounding in my head. It's nice."

"I can keep talking, if you like." Jensen ducked his head and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I'd like that," Jared said, giving Jensen a soft grin. He may not remember Jensen or any of his stories, but being with him felt right somehow. He glanced at the clock over the counter and was surprised at the time. "You want to get out of here? We could go back to my place. It's not too far from here."

"Definitely," Jensen said immediately, leaning forward across the table. He coughed into his hand, suddenly embarrassed. "I mean, that would be great."

Jared slid out of the booth and threw down a twenty to cover their bill. He watched as Jensen pulled on his coat and they headed for the door, shoulders bumping as they walked. Jared glanced over at his companion. "So we really took apart the principal's car? What happened after that?"

"Oh yeah, man, piece by piece" Jensen grinned, clearly lost in the memory. "It was classic. He came in the next morning and-"

xxxxxx

"He's in St. Louis."

Samantha Ferris glanced up from the computer screen and raised an eyebrow. She had a pencil tucked behind one ear and the top two buttons of her blouse were open, the pale white of her skin contrasting with its deep blue color. "Hello to you, too, Agent Tigerman. Did you forget how to knock as soon as I left?"

Tigerman blushed and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Sorry ma'am. I wasn't thinking."

Ferris shook her head and motioned at the chair in front of the desk. "Take a seat. I assume you have information for me."

"Yes ma'am." The young agent sat down in the offered chair and held out a file folder.

"So. St. Louis?" Agent Ferris slipped on her reading glasses and began to flip through the contents of the folder.

"Looks like our boy has been living there for awhile now. He has a place by the river, rented under the name Thomas Welling. Welling is a doctor in Springfield with ties to Sophia Bush, girlfriend of the murdered reporter Austin Nichols. Ms. Bush was the owner of the home in Blue Mound where we found Bourne hiding out. It has been in her family for several decades."

"And current status for Ms. Bush?" Ferris glanced up at the other agent.

Tigerman shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze. "Unknown at present, but if she is still alive, she isn't with Bourne."

"Do you have reason to believe she's dead?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do." Tigerman nodded. "The asset sent to her home was under instructions to kill anyone in the home if they got in the way. Bourne was the main target, but there were no exceptions."

"Typical," Ferris muttered. She looked up at Tigerman again. "What is with Fox and his constant refusal to spare the innocents? Wasn't that what got him into this mess in the first place?"

Tigerman frowned and shrugged, unwilling to answer. The young agent had his own thoughts and opinions on how things had been handled since Ferris had been forced out of the Sector, leaving Fox in charge of Operation Blackrock and its assets. But Fox was still his superior and he knew better than to speak poorly of the man. There were eyes and ears everywhere and what Tigerman knew could get him killed.

"Never mind." Ferris scanned the last page. "It says here that an asset already had contact with Bourne?"

"Yes ma'am," Tigerman sighed, relieved that she wasn't pressing the issue. "Agent Baldwin was just an hour outside the city and on Deputy Director Fox's orders, he tracked Bourne to a bar near the Riverfront."

"And what were Agent Baldwin's orders, specifically?"

Tigerman cringed, already preparing for Ferris's reaction. "Shoot to kill, ma'am."

"That fucking bastard!" Ferris closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. She glared at the young agent. "From this point forward, there will be no further attempts to eliminate Jason Bourne without my direct order."

"But ma'am, Fox-" Tigerman started.

"No buts." Ferris waved her hand in the air. "When Fox brought me back in, I was put back in charge of Operation Blackrock and all of its assets until the Jason Bourne issue is resolved. That includes you, Agent Tigerman."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Send Kane. Be sure to state that this is not a shoot to kill order. He can be a bit overzealous sometimes."

Tigerman snorted his agreement and stood up. He watched as Ferris tossed the folder aside and turned back to the computer. She glanced over at the young agent. "Is there anything else, Agent Tigerman?"

Tigerman shook his head before giving the senior agent a small smile. "It's just good to have you back, ma'am."

"It's good to be back," Ferris softly replied. She straightened her shoulders. "You're dismissed. Now get back to work."

"Yes ma'am." Tigerman headed for the door.

"And Tigerman?"

Tigerman stopped and glanced back at Ferris. "Ma'am?"

Ferris glared at him. "Cut the ma'am crap. Makes me feel old."

Tigerman smiled. "Yes Mother."

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master Post & Soundtrack | Art