Reunion

As he made his way to Nicky's apartment, David's thoughts, as they so often had in the last few weeks, drifted back into the past.

"I have...headaches", he said, after some hesitation.

They were in her apartment in Paris. A coffee table lay between them, with two steaming mugs of cappuccino. Nicky sat in the armchair opposite him, his psychiatric and operational dossiers on her lap, a calm expression of polite inquisitiveness on her face, as usual. And yet, he, who had been trained to perceive what most people couldn't, noticed that on some level, she could barely contain her feeling of triumph, of accomplishment...He couldn't blame her. She'd been wanting him to confide in her for nearly the entire year since she'd known him, but he had been as reticent as ever, although Conklin had told him he could trust her...was supposed to trust her.

"What sort of headaches?" Nicky asked, navigating cautiously. Jason could sense the hidden apprehension in her voice...she was afraid that having opened up a little, he would suddenly clamp down again. But she needn't have worried. Despite his initial reservations, he had now grown to trust her in all the time they'd worked together, between missions.

"Bad ones, sometimes. Especially when there are too many lights", he said, then paused and added, "I wouldn't have mentioned it, except that I can't handle it anymore. It's becoming a liability".

"Have you ever had these...headaches...in the field?" Nicky asked, concerned.

"No, they usually happen after the missions. In fact, they're the worst after the missions", he said.

"Well...that is cause for concern", Nicky said contemplatively. Then, seeing the slightly concerned expression on his face, added with a brief smile, "Not for you though. I'll handle it. I just need to consult my medical database...I'll send around the required prescriptions to your apartment by tomorrow. In the meantime though, I do feel you're a bit over-worked lately. You are scheduled for another op in Prague in a couple of days, but I think I'll ask Conklin to re-assign it. You need some time off", she added.

That was true enough. Bourne had been on too many tough assignments lately. Being Treadstone's number one operative did have its disadvantages.

"Call me if you have any other problems", Nicky said as she led him to the door.

As he walked out, he turned around. "Nicky", he said to the retreating figure. She turned around, startled. He had rarely addressed her by name before, and not like this.

"Thanks", he added as she turned around.

She smiled, surprised and yet in some way, pleased. "Any time, Jason".

And so it had begun, this strange relationship between the highly trained assassin and the woman assigned to help him cope with the psychological problems that almost inevitably result from being one. In time, their conversations became not as much about his missions as it was about him...his health, his life, his well-being. He never went to her apartment on anything other than 'official business', but he often stayed there for hours, longer than he used to, talking to her. Perhaps it wasn't so surprising. After all, she was one of the few constants in his life, if not the only one. The other people he interacted with were expendable sub-agents and point men, who changed with the locales, his targets, on the few occasions he'd had to make 'personal contact' prior to the execution, and Conklin, that distant taskmaster in Washington, whom he had met perhaps once or twice in person since that first assignment in Berlin. No, there was only Nicky.

She for her part remained ironically enough, a bit reticent with him even as he opened up to her. He couldn't blame her for that. A part of her knew that he was a killer, no matter how many fancy terms like 'asset' and 'operative' she used as euphemisms to gloss over that fact, and as such, she understandably didn't want to get too close. He was like a Doberman, revved up to attack, and she the handler who was supposed to tame him when he was in the kennel and then guide him towards those he had to rip apart. While in the kennel, she had to ingratiate herself with him to an extent, in order to be safe around him, and perhaps it was inevitable that in the process the handler would get too close to the dog, but she could never truly let down her guard to him. That didn't mean she couldn't be nice to him though.

What they had wasn't friendship. And it certainly was a far cry from anything even remotely romantic or sexual. She knew she was a tad too young for him anyway. No, the dog and handler analogy worked best to describe what they had, not that either of them ever discussed it.

She did tell him once that of all the assets she he met, she knew him the best. But she never told him exactly what she knew, though he could guess. She knew, or at least feared, that a day would come when Conklin would push him too far, when he, in his commitment to 'saving American lives', would push himself too far. And then, the killer, the steely machine of death they had built inside him, would be let loose from the cage of self-discipline and psychological conditioning they had built. And if he was on the loose, then the only way they would be able to survive, would be to put him down...before he put them down. It was a horrifying prospect and one she did not wish to dwell upon, and yet it always lingered in the back of her mind. She never told him any of this in words, but there had been enough indicators that subtly pointed towards this in their conversations.

And now, in retrospect, he could say that she had been right. He had been pushed too far, he had snapped, and he had hunted them even as they hunted him, a lethal killing machine without a memory roaming the streets of Paris, bringing collateral damage wherever he went. And when he saw her that night when he confronted Conklin, he saw only one of them; the conspirators who had used him and then plotted his death. And yet he left her unharmed...a part of him simply didn't want to hurt her. He didn't know why and didn't dwell upon it. But now he knew that a part of him, even then, had remembered.

And now he remembered all. And he couldn't but help wonder how things would be between them now, given their less than pleasant recent history.

Objectives and targets, the part of his mind that was still occupied by the spectre of Jason Bourne, now and perhaps forevermore, reminded him. Nicky was the 'target', getting her back to the States, or at any rate out of danger, was the 'objective'. It was strange, David mused, the sense of solitude seeing the world and everything in it in black and white, as Jason Bourne did, imparted to the mind. But then again, it had been precisely the sort of mentality that had led him to become part of the program in the first place. It was precisely the mentality which motivated men like Alex Conklin, Ward Abbott and Noah Vosen to do what they did. For the first time, he fleetingly wondered what had motivated Nicky to enter the 'business' of death. Did she truly believe, as he once did, that she would be making a difference? That certainly seemed a valid possibility.

Lost in thought as he was, he barely noticed that he had arrived at the address Landy had given him. He paused for a few minutes uncertainly outside the door, steeling himself to ring the doorbell, something he'd ironically enough never have to do if he simply planned to break in. Jason Bourne's habits certainly died hard.

Finally, he decided he'd simply become too darn contemplative for his own good lately, and rang the goddamn doorbell.

For a few moments, the two stared at each other in the doorway. David wondered who was more unnerved by this encounter. Him or her. Him, possibly, given that he simply didn't know how to perceive her anymore.

She didn't look a lot different since he'd last seen her. Her hair, which she'd dyed black, was slowly returning to its natural blond. She'd lost a fair amount of weight and her eyes bore the signs of someone who hadn't slept much in weeks.

"Well, can I come in?" he asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

"Sure", Nicky said, suddenly regaining her composure with a smile. She waited for him to get in, then closed the door. "Thank God you're safe. I knew you'd survived the fall, but I wasn't sure if you'd completely given them the slip or not".

"They think I'm dead. Or at any rate, they want everyone too. I don't know how long that's going to last though", David replied.

"I had a feeling they were catching up to me. Nearly passed out in panic when I thought recognised one of their point men at a station in Brussels", Nicky said, sitting down.

David briefly contemplated telling her about how her hunch had been right, and how close she actually had been to death. But then he decided against it. Considering that she was already suffering from sleepless nights, it would perhaps be best not to share such disturbing knowledge with her.

Instead he said calmly, "Don't worry, you're safe now".

"Yeah, I guess I am. With you", she said, looking into his hazel eyes. He stared back at her for a few minutes, pondering her words. Was she truly safe with him? Safe with someone who any moment now could once again be in the crosshairs of an assassin? The answer to that was a no-brainer of course. She was far safer in the States, protected by the might of the US Government, or at any rate those elements of it uninvolved with the Blackbriar conspiracy. But to convince her of that...was a different matter entirely.

He remained quiet, pondering the situation, when Nicky broke the awkward silence that had sprung up again between them. "Jason", she said.

He almost neglected to react to the use of his former name, something which hadn't escaped Nicky. "You know", she said after a brief pause, "You're acting as...inscrutable...as you were back when we first met, in Paris". She stared into his face as she said this. It was likely, as David surmised from the curious expression on her face, she had expected a look of be confusion on his face, but was instead surprised to find one of comprehension instead.

For his part, David wasn't exactly sure how things stood between them, given his changed circumstances vis a vi his memory. From his point of view, from the recent past, she had been a part of the organisation which had hunted him and then one of the few rays of hope in his shadow world, when she had walked away from the insidious activities of her superiors with barely a glance back. Now however, he remembered that there had been a time, before all of that, before he had held a gun to her head and threatened to kill her if she refused to answer his questions honestly, when they had been, if not friends, then at the very least, companions. And he wasn't sure how to cope with the sudden whiplash he felt with his restored memories of her. How should he react to her when, overnight, she had been transformed back into an entirely different person in his mind?

But then the answer to that particular problem hit him. Why not just TELL her? After all, he didn't have to hide everything from her. On the contrary, considering that she had nearly died for him, he owed her, at the very least, the truth. So, he took a deep breath, and dropped the bombshell...

"I remember, Nicky. I remember everything"

For ten seconds, her face remained as it was. It probably took her that long to process the startling information she had heard. And then, slowly but surely, came her immediate reaction. Her eyes widened. Suddenly she seemed unsure of herself, unsure of her immediate situation.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she said one word. "How?"

So he told her. Told her about SRD and Hirsch and the memories that had erupted from his sub-consciousness during that confrontation. He told her about the vivid images of the tank and the black hood pulled over his face, the feeling of nausea and suffocation, the experience of a soldier broken down bit by bit and reshaped into a conscienceless machine who unhesitatingly shot two bullets into the chest of a man he didn't know for reasons he would never be told. She listened in horror as he related the story of the creation of Jason Bourne and the moment of clarity when he realised that at long last, he knew everything.

"Oh my God...you have to understand, I never knew. Daniels told me about the behaviour modification, but I had no idea it was this bad. I..." Nicky began, but David cut in with a reassuring tone, "It's okay Nicky...it isn't any of your fault. None of it. It's theirs and theirs alone". He paused and added, "Besides, you did...help. Or at least try to. Back in Paris. Those meetings in your apartment after the reporting sessions were...a 'comfort'...probably the only one in my life."

Nicky winced a little as the realisation of the fact that he remembered everything about those faraway days in Paris hit her once more. "It...it was difficult for me...", he said, repeating the words she had spoken in Madrid weeks ago. "I had to get to know the assets to understand them in order to evaluate them...but it was difficult to get to know people who...who were so...I guess 'mechanical' is as good a word as any. You need to understand, it was difficult being in the same room with a man who had been trained to break necks as easily as breaking a toothpick, and probably wouldn't feel a thing about it afterwards. But with you it was...different."

"In what way?" David asked. Although he knew everything about his past now, he was curious to know what had shaped her attitude towards him, something he had never known even back then.

"Well, it was the headaches that gave me the hint. You remember the day you first told me about the headaches don't you? That they were the worst immediately after the missions?" she asked.

He didn't tell her that he'd just been thinking about it just before he came her, but simply nodded.

"Well, that was when I realised...the other assets had them too, but they were never as bad as yours. The medication seemed to work for them. But it never completely worked for you. And that's when I started to suspect that while your symptoms were physical, their cause were very likely psychological. I believed, or at least I wanted to believe, that somewhere deep down in your subconscious mind, you couldn't take it anymore. You simply couldn't live with the fact that you killed in cold blood, even if you didn't want to admit it to yourself. A part of you couldn't live with what you had become and was eternally in conflict with your training, your conditioning, your own deep commitment to the program. This schism in your mind...was what caused your headaches, Jason. And they were at their worst after the missions...because the missions were the stimulus for them", Nicky said.

David remained silent as she said this. When she had finished he reflected on her words. Deep down inside, he knew there was truth in what she had said and it was...heartening...to say the least. Heartening to know that even when he had been a cold blooded killer...an assassin...he'd had a shred of a conscience. He'd always rued the headaches...the terrible headaches which almost disoriented him on occasion...now, he felt grateful for them. For what they signified; that David Webb had never been completely destroyed by Hirsch's mind games. That there was still hope left for him yet.

And now, for the first time, he was able to view what happened on that yacht in the Mediterranean in perspective. When he saw his target surrounded by his children, when faced with the dilemma of his commitment to the program and his revulsion to who and what he was, he could live with the schism in his mind no longer. Something had to give way, and it was the steely killer forged by Treadstone who had ultimately lost the battle for his soul that night. Nicky's theory, which he now knew to be true, had given him at least a small measure of the closure he had long desired...not only in terms of his relationship with her, but with regards to his own identity. This meeting with Nicky had given him a better understanding of who he was.

"Jason?" she asked, noticing his silence.

He stared back at her and replied, "You were right, Nicky. About the headaches. About...me."

"It made it easier", Nicky said, "knowing that at least one asset was starting to have the same doubts as I was starting to have. Though it took me longer to realise mine than you did".

"No one can blame you for that, Nicky. You were away from it all. You didn't know what went on in the field. You didn't have to pull the trigger", David said.

"But when everything came out about Abbott's conspiracy, and I realised that you'd been framed...I knew I couldn't go on with it any longer. I knew I had to get out. And then you came...and I was given a chance...to make things right", Nicky added.

Yes, a chance to make things right, David thought. That's what they all wanted in the end. Landy, Nicky, even him. Perhaps...this would help Nicky make the right decision, at least what he thought was the right decision, with regards to her immediate future...

"Nicky...you need to know, they're still out there. They're still looking for you. Landy uncovered a list of...targets. You're on that list. You need to get out of here, as quick as you can", David said.

"Where to?" Nicky asked.

David sighed, and in an almost pleading tone, said, "Back to the States. Landy's offering you all the protection you can get. You'll be safe there...as an official witness".

He'd tried to put it as simply and succinctly as possible, before she could raise any objectives. He could understand the shock she felt...at being asked to submit herself to the custody of a government whose less savoury agents had, and still were, actively trying to kill her. But he needed her to realise that her chances were far better there than out here in the open...with assets like the one lying dead in a closet just down the street constantly on her tail, always mere minutes away from taking her life.

"It'll be your chance...to set things right. To set them right in a way I never could, Nicky", he paused and added, "I can't always be around to keep you safe. I don't think I'll ever be completely safe, not until this ends. And it'll only end with Vosen and Hirsch's day in court. Your testimony Nicky...can save lives. Not only the lives of potential targets but lives of men...like me. They deserve a second chance Nicky...just like I got. They deserve a chance to get back what Hirsch took from them".

There was another long silence. And then, Nicky replied. "Alright. I'll do it."

David couldn't possibly have been more relieved...and happy...at her decision.

A little over two hours later, all the arrangements had been made. David had spoken to Landy using an encrypted cellphone she'd given him and she had assured him that all was in readiness on her end. They were on the verge of leaving, when Nicky asked him one final question.

"You know, after all these years, I still don't know...who you really are. I never had access to that sort of information. So can you...tell me your name?"

So he replied, with a conviction he now strongly felt, "My name is David".

And she replied, "Hello David".

A/N: So there you go. No romance, not even friendship really. Just an attack dog and his handler, though possibly something a bit deeper.

Oh, and fans of the Ludlum novels will recognise my ending lines.