Spoilers for Bourne Ultimatum...this is my second fic, a different route I took except for the beginning of the fic. I used the beginning of the last fic, just cause I like how it sounded and I just like that story line, but this is going to turn into a longer, chaptered fic….I hope you guys like it! Please R&R!

Disclaimer: not mine.


"It was difficult for me...with you."

He just stared at her, gaze unwavering, and she searched his eyes for some sign of recognition. She found none, and soon looked away, the silence defeaning in the cafe.

She watched him as they sat there in silence, studied him for imprints of a person from the past and found almost nothing. A shrug here, a gesture there, all with echoes of someone who didn't live there anymore.

"Why are you helping me?"

David Webb looked up at her, hazel eyes smiling behind thick goggles as the rest of his face remained calm. He removed the thick headset from over his eyes.

"What? I can't hear you?"

She looked at him, bored. "You know what I said."

Then he chuckled, the smile alighting his face in amusement, looking away before looking back at her, trying to hide the slight blush traveling up his neck.

"You looked like you were having a hard time over here...I just figured I'd be gentlemanly and lend a hand." He took the gun from her hand and clicked the safety on, smiling as he handed it back.

"First time on the firing range?"

"Yes...I'm...I'm new." She couldn't elaborate on her training, or her job, but he recognized the uncertainty behind the half truth and nodded.

"Confidential. Got it. Well..." He trailed off, looking around and then back at her, smiling ever still. "Welcome to Langley."

She wanted to scoff, but couldn't. His smile was flirtatious, and made him even more handsome and she was suddenly aware of warmth spreading on her neck, her stomach suddenly fluttering as she made eye contact once more with him. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. "Um...thank you, I guess. I'm Nicky, Nicky Parsons."

"Lieutenant David Webb." He took her hand, shaking it warmly. "Nice to meet you, Nicky Parsons."

Twisted irony brought her to where she was. David had disappeared on her, after two years being together one rainy night in 1996. He had orders, an assignment he couldn't tell her about that came with his new rank of captain, and she never saw him again. Until that is, she took an assignment, offered especially for her, a top secret program 5 years later that put her right back with him.

She remembered seeing him for the first time, those 5 years later, and realizing, sickeningly, that he had no clue who she was. He was not her David, but someone completely different.

In a broken home, she watched him, his breathing ragged and heavy as he stood above the body of Desh, hands bloodied as they squeezed the life from the man. It was hard to watch; she had always ordered the assassinations, but seeing him, of all people, kill a man right in front of her...she would never get used to something like that.

In a cheap hotel room, she watched him in the mirror as he stared at his hands, turning them over and she knew he was replaying what he had done. She saw him then, David, the man she fell in love years before, and made her way over with out a word and handed him the wash cloth, placing a hand on his own in a comforting gesture.

He stared back, and for less than a moment, she wondered if he remembered, if he knew everything. But then it was gone, any chance of recognition, and it was back to business. "They'll kill you for this."

She knew that. When she colored her hair and saw him staring at her in the mirror, she knew he saw her fear and anxiety. She wondered if he saw her longing as well, thinly veiled emotions that had gotten her through the years they'd been hunting him. She had to keep telling herself it was Jason Bourne and that he stopped being David a long time before. Two separate people in the same package.

But Webb's humanity seemed to have caught up to his alter ego, on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic years before, bringing her so close to him once more.

He walked her to the bus, and she again wondered if he might know. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, both not knowing what to say to fill the silence. A part of her wanted to tell him, call him David; she wanted to see his smile, just one more time. But she nodded and walked towards the bus, only stopping as his voice reached her, his attempt at words of comfort only disappointing her further.

"It get's easier," He said softly. She stared blankly back at him before moving onto the bus without a glance back.

He held her in her kitchen, both with their damp hair and clothes from the rain, a few silent tears making their way down her face.

"I know it's hard, being apart, but this is bigger than us, Nic. It'll be over before you know it, you know, and I'll be back. This being away...it get's easier." He had kissed her temple, before unwrapping his arms from around and wordlessly slipping out of the apartment, leaving her alone in the dark, neither knowing he wouldn't be back.

It never get's easier, Jason, she thought, as the bus pulled away. It never has.


He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he felt the pressure of the water from all sides. A sharp pain radiated from his lower back, and in his semi consciousness recalled the sound of gunfire.

He opened his mouth to breathe and got a mouth full of water. That seemed to trigger his senses and he kicked hard, unevenly at first, sending his body twisting in the water for a few seconds before he gained control and got it right. He met the night air, hacking up water, gasping for breath, and getting a few clear lungfuls before starting off immediately. They might be on the roof, looking down. They may have even been on the river bank, waiting for him to surface and he wasn't going to give them the chance. Somehow he forced his mind to dismiss the urgency of the pain in his back and keep going, out of sheer desperation, half letting his body be carried by the current.

For now, he was trying to sort out the slideshow occuring in his mind. Images flashed by, bits and pieces of memories that seemed to surface every few minutes, new pieces of information inudating him until he almost felt overloaded.

An older woman's face, her blonde hair graying and her face sad as she tried to smile, caressing his face...

A man who resembled him, laughing, hitting him playfully on the arm...

Countless other snapshots seem to come to mind as he realized it was getting time to stop floating. He swam towards an empty bank of the river, now in an area where he could remain hidden and pulled himself up on to the bank, laying there. As his eyes closed in near exhaustion, one face stood out among the rest.

All he had to do was find her.

------

"You're probably wondering why I wanted to speak with you."

It had been three weeks since the highly confidential Blackbriar had been leaked to the public, and Pamela Landy now sat across from her. She fidgeted in her seat, finally tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I just want to not be apart of this anymore."

"We both know it's not just that simple. I could've just had a mailman come and give you summons, Nicky. Instead, I came to you."

"I'm not an agent anymore."

"You were apart of this, whether you like it or not." She paused for a moment. "It seems you were even closer than any of us could've known, hm?"

Nicky froze, but didn't respond. "What do you need from me?"

"Just testimony." Pamela looked at her softly. "Understand I'm not threatening, I'm asking. I didn't mean that as a threat. But your testimony could help put those responsible behind bars. And since you're not with the agency anymore, as you have pointed out, the compensation would probably be more to your benefit." She rose her eyebrows for emphasis. Nicky relaxed and even smiled.

"Well you should've definitely started with 'compensation.'" She joked. "In all seriousness, though, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you Nicky." She slid her card across the table to the young woman. "I'll talk to you soon, hopefully. Have a good night."

"You too Pam."

She took a few days to decide. She would sit in her kitchen, at her table, twirling the card between her finger tips. She would do other things of course, but at the end of the day, it was there, on her counter or dresser, staring at her, and finally after about a week, as the trial neared it's court date, she dialed the number.

"Pamela Landy."

"Pam? It's Nicky...i'll do it."

-----

2 weeks later it was done. The trial was nothing spectacular; she had been scared, however, as she was summoned and walked to her seat, feeling the eyes of Vossen on her at all times. She said what she had to though, and answered her questions truthfully, revealing her job, tasks and orders which were often carried out. She could see the judge frowning, shaking his head, and when she was released later that day from court, she practically raced out, never wanting anything to do with Blackbriar, or the CIA ever again. It had taken too much from her and gotten her almost killed too many times.

She wondered if maybe he was here. She would cast glances as she walked away, curious to see if he would be hidden in the shadows. There were no signs though, but a part of her felt easy knowing he really couldn't be that far away.

But who's to say he'd even care?

She sighed to herself and had let herself into her hotel room quickly. Usually she lived on the east coast, being a native of Virginia from birth, and lived in New York as an adult, now that the program had been shut down. As much as she had enjoyed Europe, she was happy to be back on US soil.

Sitting in her room, she decided on a whim to rummage through a box of old mementos she had brought with when she had gone to Europe. Having stopped in Washington for the trial en route from Paris, she had her most personal belongings closest to her.

Inside were pictures, locked inside boxes locked inside other boxes. They were pictures of family, friends, old boyfriends...old letters. Notes.

She picked up an old tattered photo of her and David, a few months before he disappeared for Blackbriar. They had been in Missouri, visiting his family. She smiled softly. He and her were off to the left, his brother standing next to them with his wife. His parents were in the middle and his sisters were on the other side. She remembered how hard it had been to get this picture and it still wasn't perfect; David was laughing, mouth wide open, she was smirking, one hand on his chest as he held her around the waist as his brother laughed from behind her. She didn't even remember what was so funny, but this was definitely one of her favorite pictures.

She focused on his mother, her eyebrows furrowing together. Agatha Webb was only 20 when she'd had David and his brother, now being only in her late 50's. Her husband had died 5 years after the picture was taken, after David had "died".

That's what they had told everyone, what even Nicky had believe for five years. That there had been a horrible car crash on his way to New York; the car had hydroplaned off the road in the mountains, falling down onto some rocks some 50 feet below and exploded into flames. Whatever had been left of him had been cremated and as far as Nicky knew, remained in the Webb's living room.

She had been close to Aggie after that, for awhile. Visiting, calling, writing letters. But after getting to Paris for "school"...she just didn't feel right, writing and not telling her that her son was alive and well.

Well. Not really; the persona of Jason Bourne had fully encompassed David Webb and taken him over. David was as good as dead to any of them.

Her forehead crinkled in thought as she set the picture back in the box and locked it. She had always felt bad about not talking to Aggie after that, especially now with David supposedly having his memory back.

She made a decision then, rising from her bed and making her way to her laptop. She was going to Missouri, if anything but to make sure Jason Bourne didn't give her a heart attack. Even if he didn't show, a mother deserved to know the truth about her son.

She just hoped she wasn't going to be too late.