This is my first Bourne story, so I apologize for any mistakes.

Review and flames welcome...

Jason obviously does not belong to me...if he did he'd be constanly smooching Nicky.

'Why was he just standing there?' His hold on the gun was unsteady, she could tell.

'If he didn't intend to use it, why is he still pointing it at me?' She expected no answer from him. The queries were only meant to make her more comfortable. It was a way for her to cope with the stress of this job.

They studied each other silently, both looking for a sign of recognition.

Their breaths were the only sounds in the room, Conklin had no idea what was happening but he didn't care. If Nicky was stupid enough to get involved with one of his boys, he would be very surprised if she didn't die this night.

Jason took in her long blonde hair, the pureness of her features. 'Who was she?' his fingertip was on the edge of the trigger but he couldn't bring himself to pull it. The thought of her face lifeless and empty because of him was too much.

Jason forced his eyes away from her, letting all his confusion and rage spill onto the man before him. The one that had made him this killing machine, that had stolen his second chance for a life with Marie. He yelled something at him, he threaten him with a fight at his doorstep.

She made a sound, as if she was trying to make herself smaller. His stomach clenched, he didn't want to be the reason for that noise. She was terrified but was still staring him down, daring him to remember her.

The banging of the door distracted him, reluctantly he let go of those wide brown eyes.

The fight and drop past the banister wiped any further thought of the girl in the room. He limped off into the Paris night, his face scrunching up in pain. The headache came back, he fell against a nearby doorway. He paused, struggling to breathe against the intense pain.

Jason patted his pocket, looking for the tiny bottle of relief. He dry swallowed the miracle pills, a sudden memory came to him.

"Do you suffer from headaches or sensitivity to light?" she was sitting across from him, wearing a lab coat several sizes to big. She looked like a kid playing doctor, "Yeah."

She scowled at his monotone response but made a note in his chart. She got up from her desk, he observed her. She walked towards him with confidence, she came so close he could smell her faint perfume. Lavender or Jasmine or a combination of both.

His throat went dry, she was too close. He had a real fear of hurting her, especially if she moved quickly. She must have sensed his apprehension because she reached over him cautiously, one eye trained on her destination and the other on him.

She pulled a tiny white bottle and handed it to him. "For the headaches," she replied at his questioning gaze. She reached to close the cabinet but his grip on her wrist startled her. She fell against him, her hand on his racing heart.

"Thank you." They both said at the same time, embarrassed she tugged her arm from his grasp. He let her hand slide from his gently. He willed his heart to slow down, to stop admiring the mole just visible beneath her neckline. "If they keep getting worse let me know," she said regaining her clinical persona. He nodded, and rolled down the sleeves of his shirt.

He committed her to memory, she looked up with a brief smile. He felt one sneak onto his face, "He can smile." she said. Her teasing flustered him, it was surely a mistake to get attached. This feeling of helplessness was unfamiliar to him so he walked out.

Jason stood there, assimilating this new information. His troubled mind was piecing together the events of tonight and the new memory he was reluctant to explore.