Two months, two whole months of feeling semi-safe, feeling that at least the immediate danger had passed, even if she didn't know what she was going to do or how long she was going to have to hide.

She'd gotten a job at a nearby bookstore. As the new kid she constantly got the closing shift, and this one was open until nearly ten, which meant at eleven o'clock on a Friday night she was finally heading home, feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep, because she also had to go in and open at 7 the next morning.

She was pretty busy feeling sorry for herself, so busy that she didn't notice it at first, the steps behind her, they were quite, skilled, but she'd been followed enough in her short life to know when it was happening. She moved faster, tried not to make it obvious, but she could feel him getting closer. She was two blocks from her car and she reached into her bag for her keys, cursing herself for not having them out when she left the store.

When she had a block left she finally broke out into a run. She felt him gaining on her, and when she grabbed the handle of her car she thought she'd made it, but just as she'd gotten a foot in he'd grabbed her, pulling her out and tossing her onto concrete. She saw the flash of his gun and put up her hands, trying to protect herself when suddenly the gun was out of her view and so was he.

The man dis-arming him moved so fast it could only be one person: Jason Bourne.

"Get in the car," he yelled at her as he finally got a hold of the guy. She scrambled up, turned the car on, looking up just in time to see Jason break the man's neck. She stood still, and he looked up, their eyes meeting in the dim light of the streets.

Then he looked away, all business as he got in the car and said, "Drive."


"Where are we going?" she asked after several minutes of quiet, "Is my place safe?"

"For now, I've been tracking him for a while, when he doesn't check in tomorrow they'll send someone else. You should get whatever you need from your place and then we need to move."

She nodded her agreement as he continued to watch that they weren't being followed.


It didn't take her long to pack what she'd need. She'd mostly lived out of a bag since she'd got here, most of it was clothes, some money, a couple of fake ids she'd had made and her favorite book, which contained Shakespeare's three most famous tragedies and comedies.

"Okay, I'm good," she said, realizing he was bleeding. She ran into the bathroom to get her first aid kit, she should bring it anyway. She handed him a wash cloth, before helping clean the wound and cover it.

"Why doesn't it bother you?" he asked.

"The blood? Well, I've had first aid training since---"

"No, not that, damn it Nicky you just watched me kill a man, doesn't that bother you? Aren't you afraid of me? Sometimes you seem afraid of your own shadow, but I kill someone right in front of you and you seem to consider it no big deal."

"Its not the first time I've seen you do that."

"I know, Tangiers."

"No," she took a deep breath, "That wasn't the first time either. It was—it doesn't matter, it's…you don't remember it."

He was quiet for a moment, "When?" he finally asked.

She was quiet, biting her lip, her hands wringing around each other as she tried to figure out how much to tell him, "I was…found out by one of our targets. They realized I controlled logistics for Treadstone. So, they sent someone to capture me, not kill me, because they wanted to torture information out of me. You…you came out of nowhere, again like you always do, you killed the guy. Then, you knew I was a liability for Treadstone so you went after the guy, killed him, and killed anyone who knew who I was. You kept me at your place….until it was…safe. So," she looked up at him finally, "It doesn't bother me to watch you kill people before they kill one of us."

He was silent, looking away from her for a long time. She got up, wanting to move away when she heard his voice.

"You wore my t-shirt. You didn't have any clothes, because I had to get you out of your apartment fast, so you wore my t-shirts for almost three days."

She blushed, "They were comfortable."

"You didn't wear them the whole time, did you?"

She sighed, deep and long, "No, no I didn't. You….are you remembering that now or…?"

"I dreamed it quite a few times. Once my name came back, and how I got into Tread stone, other things did too. My parents, my childhood home, why I decided I wanted to serve my country, how you twitch your fingers when you're nervous, how you always smell like strawberries," he stopped talking and looked her right in the eye, "how your legs look when you're wearing my shirt."

She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until it shuddered out of her, "I didn't….I didn't think you'd ever remember all of that."

"I didn't really want to."

"Oh….I'm sorry."

"But, I'm…I'm glad I did. I just, don't know what it means Nicky; I just….there was always Marie, just Marie, when I first started remembering I felt like I was betraying her. I wanted you out of my head. But the dreams keep coming, and I other stuff comes back with them. All I can tell you is….I like waking up remembering what you feel like against me."

She smiled a small, secret smile at him, "Thank you."

"For what?" he said, looking confused.

"Just…" she stopped and took a deep breath, "Thank you for remembering me."