Disclaimer: I own nothing. I do not own "The Bourne Identity/Supremacy"

A/N: This is supposed to happen shortly after Supremacy. Please R&R!

He had awakened once more to the same recurring dream. It wasn't a mission this time that haunted him, it was worse yet. This dream that he had was of a young woman who he had met and had held at gun point. He had threatened her and although he hated to admit it, he now felt guilty. Having the CIA after him, not cutting him any slack was well enough driving him to the edge if it hadn't already been done. This was probably why he was having this dream, or so he'd like to tell himself.

Knowing well that the sleep had gone and he would not recover it, he got up and made his way to the bathroom. He washed his face with cold water, hoping to wake up and perhaps think better. He needed to think of what his next move would be, of what he planned to do now that he knew his real identity or of anything that would help uncover his past. As much he tried to remember, he couldn't. It wasn't of much help either that he would be distracted by the face of that woman who he had spent only but a few minutes with and having frightened her. His felt a sharp pain on his head and knew his headaches were coming back. He rubbed at it gently, hoping to ease the pain and hopefully make it go away.

He had made his way back to the bed and was now lying on it, very still. He closed his eyes and he thought back on his dream.

He was running from the police. Judging from the cars that chased him, and the buildings around him, he was in New York. He was running through the huge crowds of people who walked among the streets, every now and then bumping into them. He was running fast and could only see people as a blur as he went. He turned a corner and saw a subway entrance up ahead. He saw a man a few feet ahead with some of his characteristics. He could hear the siren of the police but being New York, he knew they would have some trouble catching up to him. He caught up with the man ahead and threw his coat over him. He then ran to the subway entrance and disappeared inside.

His dream is cut off and he is now out on the streets once more only this time he seems to be approaching her, Nicky Parsons. She seems to be waiting for him at the end of the street as he crosses. She looks up and suddenly she runs to him, a horror struck face and pushes him aside as she's shot. He manages to catch her and hears her telling him to run as she then dies in his arms.

He opened his eyes. It was a strange dream indeed and he couldn't make any sense out of it. He knew it wasn't something that dealt with his past because obviously the woman, Nicky, wasn't dead. It was just a bad dream. What he didn't understand was why he dreamt it everytime. Could it possibly be a glimpse from the future? He scoffed. Was it even possible? Then again, was it possible that he was a former CIA agent? Was it possible that he had been chased down by them to protect their own lives? Was it possible that they had killed Marie?

As he thought about his last question, he realized that he hadn't given much thought to her now that he knew what his real identity was. It seemed that he had forgotten about her. No, he hadn't forgotten about her, but she had been avenged and she would now be able to rest peacefully. He could never forget because she was the one that had been there since the beginning with him. The beginning of this hell. However, there was no point in thinking back on what had been. It was now time to focus on the present. The present was that dream and discovering the person he had been before he condemned himself in that nightmare.

He turned to the nightstand next to him and gazed at the picture propped up against the lamp. It was the picture of Marie and him. It was the only real evidence that he had that at one point he had been happy, that he had been able to laugh and smile. He focused on her and smiled once more as he remembered her caress and her words of reassurance that everything would be fine, although he doubted she herself believed it. He closed his eyes with her in mind but was replaced with the face of another young woman. She had short, blond highlighted hair and brown eyes. He opened his eyes immediately to be met by the same picture he'd been staring at before.

He didn't understand the reason to why she kept on popping into his thoughts and dreams but he needed to find out. Maybe it was the fact that he had held her at gun point and his mind was somehow working up crazy scenarios or something. He cursed under his breath. He was getting frustrated. He hadn't even talked to her before, not unless it was for the Treadstone operation. Now that he thought about it, he rarely talked to anyone at all. She was quite interesting and attractive but being the type of man he was, focused only on his target and mission, she was far from his mind. Maybe if he had paused to look around him before, nothing of this would have ever happened. What was wrong with him? He was beginning to lose himself in thoughts that shouldn't.

Could this possibly have a link to his past? If it had then he had to contact Nicky. No, wait, in his dream she had been shot as she made her way to him. She had received the bullet in order to save his life and now he wanted to go look for her? Yes Jason, or David, whoever you may be now, why don't you go look for her so you can get her killed, have the CIA pin it on you again so you can have more reasons to run and kill. That sounds like a good idea, why don't you go ahead and do that? The lack of rest was obviously affecting him. He needed to calm down and think straight. If indeed his dream meant something more than meeting Nicky would probably not be a good idea. He had to stay away from her. In order to guarantee that she will stay alive and you can continue to use her, that's all. That was the only reason he cared. Then why had he let her go?

He could feel it within himself, he knew but continued to deny it. He knew there was much more to it than he would admit. He felt something for that girl. In a way, she reminded him of Marie. She held that strong character and mind because only that way would she be able to do the job she did. Dealing with assassins, making sure that they were mentally, physically and emotionally stable among a few other things. He somehow admired her. Even so, she was still a vulnerable young woman. He was attracted to her and he hated having to admit even to himself. He tried to convince himself that that was impossible since it had been not long since Marie had been killed and it was as if he was betraying her memory. What kind of person was he? Cold, uncaring, and assassin, that's who you are. He scoffed. It was right, he was the kind of person most if not all people would want to stay away from.

He yawned and looked around the room, expecting to find a clock. He found nothing but he could guess that it was well past midnight and knew that if he was to get up early that morning he needed to get some rest, as challenging as that may be. He had to get up early to make sure he left the room with no trace of him and to get an early start at his continuing investigation, determined to find out the person he once was. He looked once more to the picture on the nightstand and closed his eyes only it wasn't Marie who he saw as he fell asleep, it was her, it was the woman who took over his dreams...Nicky.

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