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Off The Grid - Ch 4 - Silence Speaks

Disclaimer: See chapter 1
Rating: PG-13
AN: Sorry this took so long, but I am a total Jason/Nicky shipper, but I can’t deny the importance of Marie in his life. Both Jason and Nicky need to deal with what she was and what she did for him. I’ve tried to do so in a way that might have been real. Needless to say it means there will be another chapter!
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to Monica_O or as she's known on lj, monicaop, and her wonderful Jason/Nicky music video How Can I Remember? It kept me going when I had doubts.

Off The Grid

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Ch 4 - Silence Speaks

Silence speaks –
Loud and clear –
All the words we (don’t) want to hear!
At the touch of your hand –
At the sound of your voice –
At the moment your eyes meet mine
Dangerous Game – from Jekyll & Hyde


Rome – March 2007

Nicky packed her belongings from the small two-room flat in Rome and moved on. Her first inclination had been to take the train and then a bus to Positano, but after careful examination of the road along the Amalfi Coast, she opted to buy an automobile. The city could only be reached by a steep mountain highway, the water, or on foot over trails through rugged mountains. She purchased a used Fiat Barchetta. The small dark green two-seater had a high performance engine and could turn on a dime. She knew that if she had to make a quick escape from her new home, under cover of night, the little car might save her life. During the trip south she became less Nicky Parsons and more Colette Benoit with each kilometer that passed.

She stopped in Naples and had her hair stylishly cut and highlighted with shades of browns, blondes, and a touch of auburn. The all-over affect was one of careless sophistication and the color had the advantage of containing enough shades close to her natural ones that she’d hardly ever have to touch it up. She was a French widow now and needed to look the part. The choppy cut and dark coloring she’d given herself in Tangier had been fine to hide behind to get out of North Africa and hadn’t been out of place among the struggling artists of Rome, but now she was playing a different role.

From Naples south, she drove with the top down on her car. She loved the wind in her hair as she sped along. For the first time since she opened her safety deposit box, she felt free. The claustrophobia that had driven her from Rome slipped further and further away. She hoped she’d be as lucky with the nightmares.
Positano – April 2007

The widow Benoit settled into the old stone cottage on one of the high plateaus above the city. She was quiet and introspective. If she had a slight tendency to be a hermit, no one thought it was odd. She was French and an artist. It was well known they had their little eccentricities.
David Webb traveled the winding road along the Amalfi Coast with a bus of off-season tourists. They stopped in each city to sightsee and he went with them, playing his part as if he belonged. It was a perfect cover. But the further they traveled, the more he believed that he’d never been to that area, despite what his dreams were telling him.

His knew his amnesia played tricks with his mind. He remembered being David Webb, but the huge slice that was Jason Bourne was almost completely blank. He believed that he’d never been to Italy as Webb but, if there was any truth to the nightmares he’d had when hiding with Marie, Bourne had.

He squinted into the distance and tried to picture the map he’d drawn, with each city marked with one of the kills that had haunted him. He wished he hadn’t burned it along with the detailed book the German girl had made him keep. She’d been sure he’d find the answers to who he was if he just kept a careful journal. All he’d ended up with was a book that proved he was to blame for her death. He’d gladly consigned it to flames along with everything else good she’d brought into his life.

The area and the towns he was traveling through were beautiful, and at times his surroundings looked familiar, but it was more like he’d studied them in pictures. Unlike Berlin, Naples, Marseille, and even parts of New York City, where he’d had a gut feeling to turn this way, or to go that way at intersections, the Amalfi Coast was new to him. He was more certain with each kilometer that he’d researched the area, but never actually been there.

When the group he was traveling with arrived in Positano, he recognized the small city he’d seen in his dreams. As he stood at the side of the road between the beach and the town, reality filled in the gaps that his sleeping mind had left blank. Houses were built up the mountain, one on top of the other. Above the buildings jagged rocks were dotted with green, where vegetation clung to small patches of soil. Occasional plateaus cut into the steep mountain added patches of color.

It didn’t make any sense. He was a man who depended on logic to keep him alive, as it had for the last two years. Now he was chasing something that was most likely born out of sleep deprivation and depression. As he watched the tour bus pull out of town, leaving him behind, he wondered if something inside of him had snapped and this was his way of giving up.
David had been in Positano four days when he saw her setting Indian-style on a blanket on the beach, with a sketch pad in her hand. Her hair, under her floppy-brimmed hat, was different. She wore a bulky sweater that was out of place with the stylish silk scarf slipped casually around her neck, but the way she moved gave her away. His insides froze and he walked with cat like grace to slip carefully among the morning shoppers. Once he put some distance between them, he slowly turned to watch her work. He didn’t need the small scope in his pocket to know he was watching Nicky Parsons.
Three weeks after she’d arrived in Positano, Nicky made her first trip to the beachfront to draw. She was settled on a blanket with a sketchpad and pencils, but for some reason couldn’t concentrate on her work on. She was fascinated by the way the houses and buildings covered the side of the steep mountain. They created interesting patterns and shadows, crowded one on top of another, but her neck was itching and it felt as if she was being watched. She kept her head bowed over her pad and lifted her eyes to carefully study the people on the road and in front of the shops, but everything appeared normal.

Every muscle in her body screamed to get up and run, but she forced herself to sit and calmly moved her pencil over the paper. Sweat dampened her back and her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t give in. After an hour, she carefully closed her sketchbook and packed it in her tote along with her other supplies. Then with sure even steps she left the beach. Nothing could make her walk among the streets and markets as she’d planned. It would be too much like Tangier if someone was following her and she allowed herself to be trapped in the labyrinth of buildings that made up the town. Instead she went directly to her car. She would shop another day.

That night when she fell into a restless sleep, her nightmares returned. She spent most of the hours she should have been sleeping, pacing and checking her weapon, the locks on windows and door and making sure the blackout curtains were tightly drawn. When dawn came she dressed warmly and walked a circuit of her house, looking for footprints, but there where none.

For six nights Jason Bourne chased her through the streets and back alleys of Paris, Rome, Berlin, Tangier and any of the other cities or small towns they’d played escape and evade in over the years. Like that first frightening game, each time he caught her, he would devastate her senses with his touch and his kisses. Then her dream would spiral out of control and she would feel cold metal against her hot skin. His Glock fired and she would hear his angry voice as she died! Everytime she woke up screaming.

It didn’t take a Ph.D in psychology to read beneath the dream. Weapons, especially hand guns, were phallic symbols. Though Nicky had always believed that as a scientist Sigmund Fraud was nothing more than a sick bastard, he had gotten some thing right.
David huddled in his sleeping bag in the nitch in the rocks and continued his surveillance of the plateau some fifty feet below. The cottage, which faced the ocean was hundreds of years old, though he could tell, even from a distance, that it had been modernized over the years. From the condition of the roof, and the windows, he was sure the last renovations had taken place less than three years earlier. From his vantage point, he could see over the thick twelve-foot high wall, which ringed the property and separated the dwelling from a stand of well cared for olive trees.

He’d been watching for almost a week and each day his anger and frustration grew. What was she doing here? It made no sense. When he’d put her on that bus, he’d had every intention of never seeing her again. It would be safer for both of them if it remained that way, but he knew he couldn’t leave until he had some answers to his questions.

As the moon rose and the hour grew late, he crept down the mountain. He’d watched long enough to know that no one else was watching her. It had been one of his main worries, that she was bait, either willingly or unwillingly, in a trap to capture him. Again he cursed himself for contacting Pam Landy, but it was too late, the action couldn’t be undone, so he had to live with the consequences.

He slipped over the wall and pulled his Glock from the small of his back. He was in hunting mode and all of his senses were on alert. He reached for his small flashlight in his jacket pocket and ran the beam up and down the door, with special attention to the lock. The old cottage was equipped with a sophisticated alarm system, but whoever had put it in wasn’t as careful as they should have been, one small wire was visible. It took David, using Jason’s skills, less than five minutes to disable it.
Nicky tossed in bed, fighting as she began to dream. Just as she was running down a back alley with a dead-end, her body jerked and she woke quickly, more frightened of the real world than the phantom one that haunted her sleep. At first she was disoriented, thrust back into her hotel room in Berlin when Landy had knocked on her door, but this was Italy, not Germany and the night was filled with silence instead of muffled bangs and voices.

She shivered as goose bumps broke out on her arms and her hand slide automatically beneath her pillow for her Glock Compact. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what it was. Her fingers itched to pop the clip and check her load. It was a nervous habit she’d developed since Berlin. She’d inspected her ammunition before she’d gone to bed, if she did it now, the telltale sounds might give her away.

Noiselessly she slipped out of bed. Five careful steps later, her back was tight against the wall separating her bedroom from the living room. She didn’t let herself think, only acted, one step, then another and another and her shoulder brushed the molding along the door frame. Whatever had woken her sent adrenaline rushing through her bloodstream. Fear threatened to choke her, so she took a deep breath, gripped her weapon with both hands and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. It loosened the tight muscles along her back and allowed her to focus on the task ahead. Crouching low, she went quietly through the doorway. At the far end of the room, a silhouette was outlined against the fireplace. Her heart pounded in her ears and she tightened her two-handed gripped on her Glock as she took aim. This was the moment Jason had prepared her for years ago. It was the one she’d been dreading each time she practiced.

A sharp blow hit her wrists at the nerve at the base of her thumbs. Pain followed by numbness made her fingers useless and she lost hold of her weapon. Before she could react, her feet were swept out from under her and a body crashed into hers, taking her down hard. As the breath was knocked out of her, the only thought in her mind was that she’d lost her advantage and then she felt the cold metal of a gun barrel against her neck. It was her nightmare, but this time there would be no waking up.

“Stop fighting me!” a familiar voice growled.

“Jason?” she gasped.

“Don’t call me that, damnit.” He pulled her to her feet with one hand fisted in the front of her green men’s Henley. His gun was still an inch away from her forehead. “Don’t call me that name. I’m David Webb now.”

“I don’t care what name you’re using! You’re alive, that’s all that matters.” Nicky reached for him, sure his memory had returned, but the touch of her hand on his face was met with a cold blank stare and the muzzle pressed tighter under her jaw. Confusion blotted out common sense and silenced the alarm bells that had been going off in her head since she’d had the creepy sensation of being watched as she drew on the beach. ”If you’re going to shoot me, do it! I’m sick and tired of you sticking your weapon in my face each time we meet!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He slowly lowered his Glock and tucked it into the waistband at the small of his back, but kept a snug grip on the front of her shirt.

“What am I doing here?” Her heart sank as she realized it was like Madrid all over again. He wasn’t looking for her, but following an agenda of his own making. “You don’t remember do you?”

“We’ve been over that once before.” He wasn’t sure what game she was trying to play.

“It wasn’t you who arranged this? I should have realized, I should have known!” Panic shivered up her spine, but she refused to give into it. “It was a set-up, the letter, the money, the house, all of it. I think someone has been watching me for almost a week. We’ve got to get out of here! They must have known and baited the trap. I fell into it and now you have too.” Her words tumbled out one on top of another as she fought to pull away, to get to her weapon. “Let me go, damnit, we’re out of time.”

“You’re talking nonsense!” He shook her to get her attention. “No one is out there. I’ve been the one watching. It was me.”

“You?” Her brows rose along with her temper. She’d spent the last week in fear and doubt. She’d hardly slept or eaten and he had the nerve to calmly accuse her of talking nonsense! “It couldn’t have been you. You barge right in waving your Glock and threatening to kill me.”

“I had to be sure…” his words trailed off as he became aware of his knuckles pressed into her warm breasts where he still held on tightly to her shirt. “I had to be sure you weren’t being watched and that I could trust you.” He forced each word to sound calm as he carefully set her free.

“After Tangier you had doubts?” She glared at him.

“You lied to me!” he accused.

“I never--” She’d never seen him like this, even when he’d threatened her under Alexanderplatz Station

“Don’t play innocent. You had to have known a hell of a lot more about me than you let on.” He clenched his hands at his sides to quell the urge to shake her, again. “I don’t remember much about being Jason Bourne, but bits and pieces are coming back. I know we were fuck buddy, at one time.” He squinted as her mouth dropped open in shock. “Or was that just part of your job, too?” The idea that she’d used sex to manipulate him made him sick to his stomach. “Being a handier for the CIA must cover a lot of territory.” He’d hardly gotten the words out when she slapped him hard across the cheek.

“Go to hell!” Nicky rasped. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” His expression was hard. He ignored the sharp sting of his cheek as he stepped closer and grabbed her upper arm intent on answers. She’d had access to his file and his apartment in Paris, what else did she know about him?

“Let go of me!” She twisted free. Angry and in pain, she was no longer the quietly controlled agent who had helped him in Spain and Africa. “When exactly was I supposed to tell you about us? That night you arrived at the Safe House confused and broken, ready to kill anyone in sight? You didn’t know me and didn’t want to. Or Berlin, how about Berlin, when all you wanted was to shove a gun in my face and terrorize me?” Each time she believed she’d reached the limit of her endurance with him, he pushed her that much further. “Or Madrid and Tangier?” tears were blocking her throat making it hard to speak. “You didn’t want to know. You made that clear. You shut me out. All you were interested in was the hunt and your goddamn revenge! How dare you come back into my life, wave a gun in my face, call me a whore and then demand answers!” Her temper shot through the roof and she attacked him with clenched fists. Two years of pent-up anger and loss spewed forth.

Something inside of him shifted as he caught sight of tears that made her cheeks glisten in the dark. She was right and it only added to the guilt and pain he was carrying. He pulled her into his arms as much to stop her flaying hands as to give comfort. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Let me go,” her voice hitched as she felt the familiar warmth of his body pressed against hers. “Please, let me go.”

“Hush, Nicolette, I’ve got you,” the words came from the past and seemed perfectly natural as he spoke them. He ran his left hand through her hair and buried her damp face against his neck. He recognized the feel of her skin and the seductive weight of her breasts against his chest. He knew what she sounded like when passion ripped through her and that she had a small mole below her left breast. The sudden flash of new memories made him flinch.

Nicky stiffened and pulled away as she felt Jason recoil. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” She turned away from him and lit the lamp on the small table. Her eyes automatically darted to each window, to be sure the blackout drapes were pulled tight. Then she knelt to pick-up her weapon, making sure there were no sighs of tears, before she turned and sat curled in the corner of the sofa.

“I don’t know where that came from.” He felt distracted, his mind out of sync with his body. To hide it, he sat on the edge of the couch with as much space between them as he could. He’d held her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As much as he’d tried with Marie, it had never been like that. Each action had taken thought and now he knew why. He’d been searching for things that weren’t there, familiar pale skin under his hands and a mole under the swell of her left breast. He’d been searching for the woman who sat shivering two feet away from him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she sighed not wanting to think about the two years that separated them and all that she’d lost in that time.

“It does!” He turned toward her, needing answers that left no doubts. “What were you to me that I’d try to find you and not even realize I was doing it?” She had been the reason he’d come here, he was sure of it, but he needed to hear her say it.

Her dark eyes looked into his and she knew that this time she wouldn’t dodge the question. “We had an affair.” She chose her words carefully to keep what little pride she had intact.

“I assumed as much, but…”

“It was a mistake, unprofessional and unwise, but we did it anyway.” She held up her hand to keep him silent. “That’s all I’m going to say about it tonight,” her breath hitched and it took everything she had to keep from falling apart.

Jason looked her over carefully. The perceptive man finally saw dark circles under her eyes and how much thinner she was than she’d been in Tangier. “You look exhausted.”

“I am. It’s been a long few days. Truth be told, it’s been a long few years.” She reached over and wrapped her fingers around his. “It doesn’t look as if it’s been any easier on you.”

“I could do with a good night’s sleep.” His gaze followed her hand up her arm until he met the dark depths of her eyes and she stared back, lost, unable to move. He knew he should pull away. He wasn’t a man who liked to be touched, but he enjoyed the warmth of her small hand curled over his. He knew he should break eye contact. It was what he’d done with her in that café halfway between Madrid and Gibraltar, but something in her eyes wouldn’t let him look away.

“Ahh…We…well…we’re safe here, hidden, off the grid,” she whispered. “You could get that sleep here.” She quickly let go of his hand and scuttled back into her corner of the couch, putting some distance between them.

“I could,” he nodded. “I still need to know what you know.” He saw her shudder at his words but he had to get his life back. “I need to put all the pieces of the puzzle back together.”

“I realize that, but we’re both too tired to think straight.” She stood and looked around the room unsure of what to do next. “Sleep on the couch tonight. We can make up the spare room tomorrow. I’ll do what I can to help you remember.”

“The couch would be great.” He reached for her hand and turned her back toward him. “Nicky--”

“Please, not tonight.” She tucked her Glock Compact into the back of her drawstring pajama bottoms.

“I was only going to ask if you carried that thing with you wherever you went.” He nodded, with a slight smile, toward her weapon.

“Pretty much.” She shrugged. “You taught me well.”

“Me?” he questioned. It seemed out of character.

“Mmmhumm.” She nodded. “I think I’d be dead if you hadn’t.” Nicky looked into the past and knew she was speaking the truth.

Jason’s eyes clouded over and he pictured Marie as he’d last seen her, looking beautiful, fragile and very dead. The slow current had been carrying her body away from him. Why hadn’t he taught her to survive? Why hadn’t he made her learn to shoot and see danger behind every corner? The simple answer was that she’d refused all his efforts, but the more complicated one was what made the difference: Marie Kreutz had never really believed in the evils of the world, but somewhere along the line, Nicky Parsons had learned that lesson. It was why she was alive today and Marie wasn’t.

“Jas-David,” Nicky corrected quickly. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, sure, like you said, I’m done-in. I’ll check the perimeter,” his voice was cold and distant. She knew that whatever he’d been thinking about hadn’t been pleasant.

“Thanks, that’d be great.” She watched him walk stiffly away before she went to get him some bedding.

After he’d walked a quick circuit of the cottage, checked all the locks and reset the alarm system, he helped her make-up the coach. It felt familiar, almost second nature, to do all the little necessities of closing down a house before going to bed with Nicky close at hand.

“Oh, one other thing,” she knew she sounded embarrassed, but figured embarrassed was better than dead. “I…ah…well…I sometimes have nightmares and insomnia…ahhh so please look before you shoot if you…well hear any strange noises.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got the same problems, so same goes for you and that Compact you carry with you. If I taught you to use it, I assume you hit what you aim at.”

“Yeah, I do.” Nicky made it as far as her bedroom door when she turned back and looked into the living room. “You’ll be here when I wake-up?”

“I will.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as she was swept with relief. Up until that very moment she hadn’t realized how frightened she’d been or how safe he made her feel.
The next morning Nicky woke to the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of someone working on her front door.

“What are you doing?” She asked as she padded into the hallway wearing heavy socks, jeans and a long sleeved sweater. The days were getting warmer, but nights and mornings were still chilly.

“Fixing your security system.” Jason sat cross-legged on the floor holding the plate that covered the lock in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. A mug of coffee was by his right knee. “It’s a good system, but whoever put it in was careless. They left a wire showing. It was what alerted me to its presence and I was able to circumvent it last night.”

“I’d wondered about that.” She watched him work. It felt natural and right to have him there. “Have you eaten?”

“No, I wanted to get this taken care of first. I really should have done it last night.” He tightened the last screw into place and sat leaning against the door. “Would you mind if I used your shower?” Jason caught the morning scents of a freshly bathed woman and he had a sudden flash of her naked body pressed against his as water streamed around them. He could feel her skin slick under his hands and mouth; hear soft high pitched moans as he braced her against a porcelain wall and drove her over the edge. With a shake of his head, he reached for his mug and drank coffee that had grown cold as he worked. It helped to wipe away the image and bring him back to the present.

“Are you all right?” She knelt beside him and laid her hand on his knee as she examined him carefully.

“Yeah…” his voice was husky with passion as he felt his body respond to the memory and her touch. “Yes, I just had a quick flash of…something…but it’s gone now.”

“What did you see?” She sat on the cold marble floor inches away from him. “Maybe it’s something I can help you with.”

“No…I…” He froze as he was filled with doubts. Was she playing games with him? Had the last few hours been some plot to manipulate him? He raised his head and looked her in the eyes. “It was the fragrance of your soap and shampoo that brought back the memory,” he kept his words cold and controlled as he studied her response. “We were in the shower. Your skin glistened with water. I could hear your soft mewing as I pressed you against the wall and….”

“Stop, please stop,” she cried out. Her breath hitched and she buried her face in her hands. “You were right. There is nothing I can do to help.” Did this cold hard person who was keeping the man she’d once loved prisoner, expect her to follow him into the bathroom for a reenactment? She tried to rise, but plopped back onto the floor when he grabbed her arm.

“Last night I asked you what you were to me.” He held on to her tightly. “I’m asking it again.”

“We were lovers,” she whispered as her insides broke apart. “I told you that.”

“Yes, you did, but what else?” he probed.

“You gave me extra weapon’s training and—“

“Stop evading my questions, damnit!” He cut her off. “That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.”

“But it was all part of it.” She tried to pull her arm free, but he wouldn’t let go. “You taught me so much, all the little things that would keep me alive. Things like the need for staying off the technological grid. That something as simple as a web address or cell phone could get me killed.” She was hyperventilating and her words ran together as she tried to make him understand. “My God, Jas—ah…ah…David, you even bought this property and built me the identity I’m living under. You made certain that I would survive!”

“How long did it – did we last?” he demanded, refusing to get side-tracked with nonsense. When she didn’t answer him immediately, he shook her by the arm. “How long, Nicky?”

“Eighteen months,” her throat was blocked with tears, she refused to give in to, and it made speaking difficult. “Then you went on that last mission and it all went to hell.”

“Did I love you?” He needed to know. He’d already figured out his body had unknowingly yearned for hers, but had it been more than that? Was she the reason he hadn’t been able to…to really love Marie? He’d always blamed it on their situation. The need to always watch their backs, always be ready to run. He’d told himself countless times that as long as he kept the German girl at arm’s length he could stay focused and keep them alive. But it hadn’t been enough and Marie had paid the price!

“We never talked about that.”

“Nicky, did I love you.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Their knees were locked together and her body was pressed against his. His actions weren’t making sense. He didn’t touch. He was a man of economy of movements, but he used every excuse he had, to put his hands on her, to feel her body next to his.

“I don’t know,” her voice cracked. “Please, Jason, I don’t know!”

“I told you not to call me that! I’m not that man anymore.”

“You certainly aren’t the Jason Bourne I knew!” she hissed and braced her hands against his shoulders. “You’ve become the creation Alexander Conklin always dreamed of: cold, hard, unforgiving and totally focused. There isn’t a human emotion left in you! If that is David Webb, you can damn well keep him. But be warned, there is no way in hell you can stay off the grid when you’re like that, not if you’re going to interact with people.”

He watched her as she fought for control and won. Her eyes were dark and wet and filled with sorrow, but she didn’t cry. It was as if she were mourning a deep loss… “You loved him, didn’t you?” he accused.

“I loved you, back then.” She remembered their last time together and it hurt. “My only regret has been that I never told you. I had the chance the morning you left on your last mission. I’m not sure it would have made any difference to you, but it would have to me.”

“I can’t…” He wished he remembered more than snatches of his life with her.

“I know.” She smiled sadly. “Marie is who you remember. You loved her. I don’t expect anything from you.”

“It’s more complicated than that!” He handed her back the tools he’d been using and shifted to stand. His grief and guilt were too great to talk about. “Look, I’ll leave you in peace. I never should have come here.”

“Wait, no. Please stay. What was between us is in the past. I won’t bother you with it.” She hoped she could keep her feelings hidden. He didn’t need to know how much she still loved him. “We’re both raw from the last two years. You’ve been hiding; unsure of whom you could trust. I’ve been looking over my shoulder; sure they were going to finally realize how much I knew and that I was a liability.” She looked around the high-ceilinged entranceway and indicated the cottage. “It’s safe here. We’re off the grid and hidden. Between the two of us, maybe, we can piece your memory back together.”

“You really want me to stay?” He was tempted. She was right, they were safe. He didn’t know how he knew it but he did. He was bone weary, she was right about that too.

“Yes, I do.” She nodded. “Maybe if we find the answers that you’re looking for we’ll both have some closure.”

“All right, then I guess…”

“There’s one condition.” She stepped closer to him needing some reassurance. “If you have to leave, for what ever reason, tell me, don’t just disappear. I don’t think I could go through that again. I won’t question your decision or ask where you’re going. I need you to promise….” For one small second she was standing in his kitchen in Paris. It was that last morning before he went away and everything changed.

“We’ve done this before,’ he whispered. He couldn’t take his eyes off hers, as his hands moved gently up her arms.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Do you remember?”

“No, it just feels familiar.”

“Okay, then.” Nicky stepped back, giving herself space to breathe. “Don’t force it. If your memory is going to come back it will.”

“Tell me what I’m missing. Damnit, fill in the blanks.”

“No, I can’t.” She shook her head sadly. “If I did that, it would be giving you my memories and interpretations of the past. You need yours.”

“Just tell me everything that you know and we can go on from there.” He was impatient. Too much of his life was a gaping hole. “You had access to my file. You have to tell me.”

“You’ve got enough of a muddle going on inside your head. I don’t want to add more confusion into the mix.” Nicky reached for his hand uncertain if he’d allow her to touch him or not. “As you remember things, we’ll talk and I’ll verify them if I can. But I didn’t know about David Webb. There was no mention of your prior life, with the exception of a short medical history.”

“Is Webb a lie too?” He didn’t believe that Pam Landy would have given him the information if it wasn’t true. She had nothing to gain, at the time, and a great deal to lose.

“I don’t know. According to Daniels, part of the aim of your training was to reprogram a Treadstone agent’s personality. Amnesia would help to maintain the new personality and none of you had memories of your past.” She shook her head and frowned. “I think that Alexander Conklin used it to his advantage. The files I had access to, on all of you, only gave me the basics, nothing more. He believed that secrets were the key to control and control was power.”

“You argued with him about that once…about his need for total control?” Jason had a vague memory of a male voice shouting while Nicky remained calm but firm.

“I never told you about that. How did you know?” It had been during her first week in Paris while she was still in the process of taking over from Conklin.

“It was the first time I’d met you. You were new to the program. I arrived early…I think?” he spoke haltingly willing the images that had been clear moments earlier to return. “Conklin was trying to bully you about something, but you wouldn’t give in.” The harder he tried to remember the faster the voices vanished. “It’s gone, damnit!” He shook his head in frustration.

“It’s all right. Give it time, give yourself time.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “This is why you need your own memories and not mine. I had no idea you’d overheard that conversation.”

“I guess you’re right,” he admitted grudgingly. “I do need to find my own way.”

“You can do this. I’ll help where I can.” She smiled, as she stepped back. “It’ll be easier together. Just don’t force it, but when you do remember, try and be aware of what triggers it.”

“You sound like a shrink when you talk like that.” He glared unsure if he wanted anymore ‘professional’ help than he’d already received from Treadstone.

“I’ve a masters and PhD in psychology, so I guess I am.”

“Did I know that before?” Everytime he thought he could trust her, he learned something that made him doubt.

“Yes, you all knew. I never lied to any of you…Well,” she grinned and suppressed a nervous giggle. “You and I did lie to Conklin and everyone else about…about us. But that had nothing to do with my job. Treadstone had five agents who were showing significant signs of psychosomatic problems. I was brought in to monitor and help. I’m still willing to do that job for you, but you have to believe in me or it won’t work. You have to decide now what you’re going to do.”

He watched her careful, assessing and reassessing everything he knew about her. “All right, I promise that when I need to leave, I’ll tell you, I won’t simply disappear.”

“Okay, good.” She smiled, happy for the first time in months. “Then I’ll…ah…make some breakfast while you wash up.” She couldn’t believe it, he’d agreed to her one condition. It was his way of telling her he trusted her. “Oh, and about that flash of memory you had.” She felt her cheeks turning pink, but she owed him a show of trust in return. “What did the shower look like? Was it the one in your apartment?”

“It wasn’t Paris.” He closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory of his surroundings rather than the feel of the woman in his arms. “The bathroom was too small and ornate.”

“Double shower stall or clawfoot tub?” she whispered.

“Double stall.” His lips twitched and he had to fight to keep from smiling.

“It was a B&B in the Pyrenees, Spanish side, I think.”

“You think?” He grinned and couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “I gather we had an affinity for sex in the shower?”

“That is something you’re going to have to remember all on your own!” Her chin rose and she turned and headed toward the kitchen. She was damned if she was going to tell him that they’d had an affinity for making love anywhere they could.
That afternoon they opened up the spare bedroom and he moved his few belongings from his campsite above the plateau. Neither wanted a repeat of the night he’d arrived, when weapons had been drawn and tempers had flared so, in an unspoken agreement, both slept with their doors open.
Three nights later Jason woke from a disorienting dream, his first since arriving in Positano. There had been flashes of light, Conklin shouting, weapon’s fire and blood splattered everywhere. He gasped for breath as he rolled from bed, his heart pounding.

After checking all the locks and the security system, he sat on the sofa in the living room with his head thrown back as he listened for anything that was out of place. His Glock held ready, just in case.

“Jason?” Nicky whispered as she walked slowly into the living room, lowering her Compact as she realized what had awakened her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I had a nightmare. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” He felt the coach shift as she sat beside him.

“It’s okay. How come you didn’t point that thing at me?” She smiled and nodded toward his right hand, which still held his weapon. “I’m quiet, but I know you must have heard me.”

“I recognized the sound of your tread.”

“Oh,” she sighed. “I’ll have to learn that trick.” She pulled her legs up under her and turned toward him so she could rest her head on her hand on the back of the sofa.

“You staying up?” He looked at her, inches away from him and dreaded what was coming..

“If you don’t mind?” her voice was still slurred from sleep.

“No, I’d like the company.” He frowned, surprised by his answer. He didn’t want to hunt for the significance of the memories that had been dredged up in his sleep and then dissect them as if it were a therapy session.

“What’s the matter?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my dream?” He was used to Marie’s insistent questions when he woke in the middle of the night.

“Not unless you want me to.” She saw doubt flicker across his face and he seemed to pull away from her eventhough he hadn’t moved a muscle. “Jason,” she murmured as she placed her hand on the sharp plane of his cheek and ran her thumb under his lower lip. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by not asking. I’m interested, and will listen to anything you want to tell me, but I’m never going to push you.”

“It’s not anything you did.” He fingers moved over her arm until his hand covered hers, resting on his cheek. The relief that he felt because she wasn’t going to prod and poke when all he wanted was peace and quiet to let his thoughts settle, seemed like an insult to Marie and all she’d helped him accomplish.

“I…ah…” Nicky stuttered when she saw his eyes fill with naked pain. She’d touched a nerve and she was sure it had to do with Marie. “You’re used to doing things differently, aren’t you?” she asked as gently as possible, ignoring the hurt that welled up inside of her. She was caught in a love triangle with a dead woman. It sounded like something out of a bad romance novel, but unlike those books her grandmother had been so fond of, there wasn’t going to be a happy ending for this heroine.

“I can’t talk about it.”

“I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.” As her hand began to tremble under his, she tried to pull away before he felt her distress, but she’d forgotten how quick and perceptive he was.

“Nicky, someday we’re gonna have that conversation, but not now, not tonight.” He took her hand in both of his and wouldn’t let go. “You’re shaking.”

“I know,” her voice broke and she took a deep breath.

“Do you still want to stay up with me?” He needed her quiet presence, but wouldn’t ask.

“Yes, unless you want to be alone.” She’d had her share of night terrors in the last two years and there were times when she’d have given almost anything to have him sitting beside her, to help her panic recede and reality returned.

“I’ve been alone for too long.” He reached for the throw on the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his arms. “Sleep now, I’ve got you Nicolette.”

When he called her that, she wanted to ask him to never let her go. Instead she silently reminded herself of what she’d known all along: he was a self-sufficient man who didn’t need anyone. One day he would walk out of her life and when that happened, she didn’t think he’d ever return. She was damned if she’d waste what precious time she had with him wishing things could different. So she left her head on his shoulder and let his scent surround her as she spoke the only truth she could, “You make me feel safe.”

“You do the same for me.” He rested his cheek against her hair and fell asleep to the sound of her even breathing.

That night set a pattern. Whenever he couldn’t sleep or was haunted by nightmares, she would meet him in the neutral territory of the living room. It was always quiet and they fell asleep clinging to one another, within a few minutes of her arrival. It wasn’t sexual, though with the smallest move on either’s part, it could have turned that way.

Their days had no real pattern except they always started by running one of the mountain trails behind the olive grove. The rest of their waking hours were spent living quietly, doing laundry, shopping, fixing meals and reading. Every so often Jason would push to dig into the wealth of knowledge he was sure Nicky possessed about his past, but she blocked his every attempt.

“Ja—David,” she rolled her eyes at her error thankful he ignored it. “I told you before you need to give yourself time. Stop pushing for my memories, they won’t help you.” She poured whipped eggs into a hot omelet pan and put her bowl and whisk aside on the counter. “Besides you need sleep, the kind that allows you to really rest. You’ve had nightmares three of the last five nights. You’re brain requires more REM sleep than it’s getting. Unfortunately dreams occur during REM and the ones you’re having are so bad that they’re waking up. How long has it been since you’ve had three straight nights of uninterrupted sleep?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed in frustration as he scooped freshly ground coffee into the filter. “I can’t remember if I’ve ever been able to sleep like that.”

“Take it from me, you have.”

“Ahhh and I supposed that was because you were right there beside me,” he responded cynically with a touch of anger. It bothered him that when he’d wake-up on the couch with her in his arms he felt intense tender desire that was both frightening and natural. That first morning and each morning it happened, he’d told himself it was because he’d been so long without a woman, but he knew it was lie. As close as he and Marie had been, he’d never reached for her in the night, like that. It had never calmed his sleep to hold her in his arms!

“No, Jason, that isn’t how I know.” Nicky met his cold glare with calm professionalism. “I was your handier as well as your…ah…lover. If there was something wrong with you I would have known about it.” But as she said the words, she shivered. She’d run headlong into doubts and guilt that had been eating at her for two years. “But I…didn’t…”

“Nic, what’s wrong.” He heard the change in her voice and it put him on alert.

“Nothing…I…ah…I didn’t know.” She was shaking and looked stricken. “Oh God, Jason, I missed it!” She closed her eyes and fought for a shred of professional armor, but it was a losing battle.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Fear bit at him, as the color completely blanched from her face.

“I should have seen it.” She blinked looking off into the distance, unaware that she’d brushed within an inch of a hot pan.

“Easy does it, Babe.” He was beside her in three quick steps and pulled her tightly against his side. He took a moment to move the skillet off the stove and turn off the flames before he guided her to a chair. “What happened? What did you miss?” When all she did was shake her head, he knelt in front of her and cupped her cheeks to make her look him in the eyes. “Do we need to run, have we been compromised?”

“No, we’re safe,” she gasped.

“You’re sure?” He felt the comforting weight of his weapon in a shoulder holster he wore around the house.

“As sure as I can be,” her voice cracked and sounded strange, but he believed her.

“Then what...please Nicky, talk to me.”

“I can’t,” she whispered as she wrapped her hands around his wrists. “It’s too soon, you need…”

“Stop, just stop it! You need to tell me what’s eating you and I need to hear it.”

She bit her lip hard and concentrated on the pain to keep from crying. He was going to hate her when he knew the truth, but she had to tell him. “During those last weeks in Paris, you must have been coming apart. You needed me to be a professional, to act as your handier, but I was too busy loving you to do my job.” There she’d said it, now he knew how badly she’d failed him.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that!”

“Yes it was! I just didn’t want to see it.” She shook her head wanting to deny the past, but was unable to.

“Was I acting differently, Nicky?” he insisted. “What do you know?”

“I told you before, we aren’t going to talk about this. You need to remember on your own.

“This isn’t about my memories but yours.”

“It’s not that easy, they’re all mix up together. Please, Jason, I don’t want to fail you again,” she whispered.

“You won’t fail me and I don’t believe you did two years ago.” He didn’t know where the certainty came from, but he felt it to the bottom of his soul. “Tell me what you know, what you observed, that’s all I’m asking.”

“All right,” she whispered as she stood and wiped at her damp eyes. “Okay, but this may take us a while. You finish making coffee and I’ll cut up the rest of the fruit. You’ll need something to eat while we do this.”

Ten minutes later they were sitting in the living room. Nicky was curled in a large arm chair warming her hands on a cup of coffee and Jason was sitting stiffly on the sofa. His coffee sat beside a plate of neatly cut apples grapes and oranges on the end table that separated them.

“The first thing that was different about your last mission was that it didn’t come through me.” She jumped right in; afraid she’d lose her nerve if she put it off any longer. “Up until that time all the missions had been passed through the Safe House. They were usually coded, but not always.”

“Had any of the others had assignments that didn’t come from you?” He felt a dull ache behind his eyes and realized it was the beginning of the first headache he’d had since New York.

“I can’t be sure, but thinking back on it, I believe that Castel in Rome and the Professor in Barcelona may each have been given jobs from another source. The first year I was working for Treadstone, Castel was out of touch for over three weeks. When I became aware of it, I followed protocol and contacted Conklin. He told me it was covered and not to ask questions. The same thing happened with the Professor a few months later. I was still very new and didn’t know what to think. Then nothing out of the ordinary happened for almost two years.”

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I knew you were preparing for a mission some distance away, probably even out of France. You were gone over night, four times in eight weeks.” She took a gulp of coffee as the memories came back. “The only reason I knew that you were out of town was because we were…well…together.”

“Did I tell you anything about what I was doing?” He wanted desperately to remember what led up to his failed assignment, but he only had flashes from two years ago. The most intense were from when he’d faced down Alexander Conklin.

“No,” she shook her head. “You didn’t like that I knew the anything, but it always bothered you that I know more than I would have if I were simply the Treadstone handier. You worried that if they ever found out how much I knowledge I had, they’d come after me.”

“I was right to worry. You do know too much, but, right now, I’m hoping you know more, because I need to hear about it.”

“That last morning you were different.” She was looking into the past and could see it as if it were happening all over again. “Usually before a mission you’d wake totally focused on what was ahead. You’d recite a list of all the things you’d been teaching me about staying safe, things like, if you’re on the run, never fly because, they’ll have no compunction about taking down an entire airplane of people to get the one person they really want.” She shuddered at the thought. Crashing planes meant New York City and the radical change they had caused in her life. They had nothing to do with Paris. “You’d remind me to always police my brass, to shoot and then toss away my unmarked weapon. The list usually went on and on, all through breakfast.”

“But not that morning?” He leaned forward in his chair, almost touching her, as she remembered the past. He wanted desperately to see clearly what she was seeing, but he couldn’t, all he could do was listen and hope it triggered a memory of his own.

“No, not that morning, instead you made me tell you what I’d learned. You needed to know that I really did understand the importance of all the things you’d been teaching me. Then you made a joke about my eidetic memory and…” Her eyes flutter shut as she remembered his hands on her body.

“And what, Nicky?” he demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“We made love,” she sighed and held up her hand to forestall his questions. “It was something you never did on the morning you’d leave on a mission. You would wake up…different, more focused, colder, your mind already on where you were going and what you had to do, but not that morning. You…we…” She took a moment to collect her emotions before she went on. “Part of me was convinced you were saying good-bye. I even made you promise that if you had to go away for any reason, you wouldn’t simply disappear and let me think you were dead.” She tried to smile as she shook off the memories and deep feelings. “You kept your promise, twice; first by storming the Safe House before you disappeared. Then last January I sat in Palma, Majorca watching a newscast, which announced that you’d fallen ten stories into the East River, but your body hadn’t been found. I knew you were alive and somehow had found a way to keep your promise.”

“It was Landy who helped me get that message out, but I didn’t know why I needed to do it.” He shook his head wanting to deny it, but it made perfect sense. “I’m sorry but I don’t remember anything from that morning in Paris.”

“I know that now, but when you first arrived, I thought you’d remembered everything.” She picked up her coffee and drank slowly. It was cold and bitter the way her life had been for a very long time. “I still don’t understand how you knew to come here.”

“I dreamt about it.” He shrugged and looked sheepish. He knew it made no sense and went against all of his training. “I hoped I’d find a key to my past here, and I did. I found you.”

“You found more than that. You found your escape plan. This cottage and land belongs to you.” She got up and brought back the documents she’d found in her safety deposit box in Rome. “I tried to tell you about it that first morning, but…” She shrugged her shoulders, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah, I was focused on other issues.” He looked quickly at a birth certificate for Colette Jeanne Marquette; a marriage license for Colette and Jean-Paul Benoit; a copy of the deed to the property in Positano; Jean-Paul’s death certificate and various other papers that outlined an online cash transaction between Monsieur Benoit and Senore Cantinni, selling a small slice of the much lager estate west of their plateau. The date of the purchase was just over four years ago. He quickly did the math, eighteen months with Nicky in Paris, two years on the run, another five months since Marie was killed last November. He must have found and bought the property a few months after he began his affair with Nicky Parsons.

“I had a lock box in Rome. It contained the identities I’d built for myself over the years. When I opened it in March, I found those papers. You’d created a life for me and a place to run to and even given me cash to make it all happen. There was a note. I recognized your handwriting. It was dated exactly a week before you left on the Wombosi mission,” her voice broke. “This is why I don’t want to talk about the past unless you have specific questions! All it does is bring up more questions, none of which I can answer. I don’t know why you did any of this and neither do you!”

“I obviously wanted you to have somewhere you’d be safe,” he muttered not wanting to think about how different his life with Marie might have been if he’d had a pre-arranged place to hide and identities that were solidly set-up long before he needed them. “Where’s the note?”

“I burned it.” It was simple to say, but it had been very difficult for her to do. She’d cried as the paper charred and went up in smoke.

“Good, if you knew my writing, then so would others. It was smart to get rid of a link like that.” He could see she was in pain, but couldn’t deal with it. She was right, looking back at unanswerable questions only added to his confusion. “What did the note say?”

“No, I said no more and meant it,” she insisted. “You don’t remember writing it. You don’t remember anything about that time. I’m not answering anymore questions that only lead you to more doubts!”

“Nicky, I’m not going to take the cottage from you. It’s yours, I wanted you to have it, or I wouldn’t have bought it in the names of Jean-Paul and Colette Benoit and then given you Jean-Paul’s death certificate.” It was hard to sound reasonable when his insides were churning with misgivings. Had he meant for them to go into hiding together? Had he loved her that much? Was everything that happened with Marie a mistake? The headache that had begun as a dull pain behind his eyes pounded in direct proportion to his uncertainties. “I need some fresh air,” he growled.

“I wasn’t talking about this house or the land,” she sighed, but was speaking to his back as he headed out the door. “We’ll figure all of that out when the time--” The door slammed and she was left alone, talking to thin air, “--comes for one of us to leave.”
That night it was Nicky who woke drenched in sweat and screaming. Her nightmares had returned and they were worse than ever. Jason led her blindly into the living room, and for the first time in years, she left her Glock under her pillow. He pulled her down beside him on the couch and held her tightly as visions of explosions and smoke cleared from her vision.

“I’m all right, really I am,” she argued and tried to get up and return to bed.

“No you’re not, anymore than I’ve been on any of the nights you’ve stayed and kept me company.” With a deft movement he flipped her around until she was laying full length, pressed tightly between the back of the sofa and his warm body.

“This is supposed to be about you, not me.” She strained against him to get up, but he only held her closer.

“No, it’s not. It’s about both of us.” He grazed her forehead with his nose and her scent filled his nostrils. His body responded to the woman in his arms.

“Jason, this isn’t a good idea,” her words were hoarse with desire. She felt him pressing against her abdomen and remembered exactly what it was like to have him buried deep inside of her. Her breasts responded and her nipples hardened against his bare chest. She took one quick moment to be thankful he’d either taken the time to pull on pajama bottoms or that he slept in more than he used to.

“I’ve got you Nicolette, hush now, I’ve got you,” he whispered and stroked her back with a hand that shook slightly. He wrapped his leg around both of hers and pulled her closer to him. They both groaned and shook on contact. “Just let me hold you.”

Her body trembled against his, but she looked up into the intense blue of his eyes with trust. She knew that she was safe, safe from dangers from the outside and safe from him as well. She nodded almost imperceptivity, but he felt her movement and sighed.

“Sleep now, everything will look better in the morning.” Once more he stroked her skin under the men’s Henley she wore as a pajama top and then carefully he pulled it back into place. His lips twitched slightly when he realized that the old green shirt had belonged to him once long ago. With that knowledge, came a flash of memory. He saw Nicky with long blonde hair as she came apart into a million pieces under his hands. If she hadn’t been lying so trustingly in his arms, the mental picture would have been too much for him. As it was, it was a close call.

Jason lay awake for a long time as Nicky’s breathing slowed and she fell asleep. They’d walked very close to the edge tonight and he knew it was dangerous. In a flash of insight he realized it was the mistake he’d made with Marie. He’d jumped headlong into her bed without any memory of his past. He’d desired her, but he knew it was a washed out shadow of what he felt for the woman who slept in his arms. Had he been unable to love Marie because he already loved Nicolette Parsons? Had his mind forgotten her, but his emotions remembered?

‘What nonsense,’ he shook his head. He wasn’t a man who thought like that, at least not the man he’d been during the last two years, his mind scoffed. His memories of David Webb weren’t much help. They were cloudy at best and all of them of a younger, more idealistic person, who had no real bearing on who he was now. But he kept going back to two facts. First he’d taken the time and spent the money to be sure Nicky was safe if he wasn’t around. More importantly he had a warm scantily clad woman pressed against him. He desired her to the point of physical pain, and he knew it would have taken only the slightest nudge on his part and they would have spent the night relieving that desire over and over again. Maybe it wasn’t such nonsense after all?

To Be Continued


( 16 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 18th, 2007 05:12 am (UTC)
Hi :), first, thanks tons for the link :) is really nice of you to say that my vid helped you, but the link is not working, who knows.

Also, as I told you in FF.Net I totally enjoyed this chapter and I loved the way you wrote the characters :), thanks for it!! Hugs, be well, take care and please!! Keep writing :)
Nov. 18th, 2007 05:26 am (UTC)
I fixed the link so it is working. Sorry I didn't check it, it looked right, but wasn't.

I loved the vid and it really means a lot that you sent it to me.
Nov. 19th, 2007 12:39 am (UTC)
lattelady6, I absolutely love this story and I was overjoyed to learn of your Live Journal. I left a review at FanFiction.net under the moniker, Moon Called, though I neglected to mention that I had 'friended' via LJ. I hope you don't mind.

P.S. I've also think the music vid Sober (linked below) fits your story as well:

Nov. 19th, 2007 03:48 am (UTC)
I'm really glad you like my story. It means a lot when people who are active Jason/Nicky shippers tell me my story words for them.

You're review from FF.net is fantastic. It made my day, I just haven't gotten around to answering any today.

I love your music vid. I'm almost positive it's in my Favorites list. I know I added the song Sober to my Jason/Nicky playlist after the lovely job you did with it.

By the way, great icon!
Nov. 19th, 2007 05:10 am (UTC)
I love your music vid. I'm almost positive it's in my Favorites list. I know I added the song Sober to my Jason/Nicky playlist after the lovely job you did with it.

(blush) Sorry for the misconception, but Sober isn't my music vid. That privilege belongs to the awesomely creative MuzzyOlorea at YouTube. I was in a bit of a rush when I posted earlier. I really should have credited her in the original post.

By the way, great icon!

Isn't it wonderful?! :) frust_sheep, at the bourne_nicky Fan Journal, created a bunch of Jasons Bourne/Jason & Nicky icons last month. All she asks is that we don't hotlink or alter the icons, and that we create her in the 'Comments.' The link is listed at the Fan Journal, so I'm sure she wouldn't mind as long as you sent her an email letting her know. Here's the link to the icons: http://frust-sheep.livejournal.com/2007.html#cutid1

Now I'm off to re-read Off the Grid before turning it. :) Sleep well!
Nov. 20th, 2007 12:49 am (UTC)
Thanks for the info. I sent her an email am now the proud user of some her lovely icons!

Thanks for the heads up on the bourne/nicky site, I'll have to join that one.
Nov. 20th, 2007 01:29 am (UTC)
You're welcome! I hope the added ambiance will further inspire you as you write more Jason/Nicky fiction. :)

I've actually been itching to write a Jason/Nicky story. I've been checking out the stories posted at FanFiction.net and I haven't seen my idea yet, so I may go ahead with it. It may disturb the die-hard Jason/Marie shippers, but I'd like to know what you think of the premise.

What if Jason, despite his words, came into the bathroom after seeing the heartbreaking look on Nicky's face (not to mention her glistening eyes). What if they had a fast and furious encounter (which, to me, would explain their body language during the parting scene in the bus terminal), and what if Nicky discovered a month later that she was pregnant? The idea just won't leave me alone! I want to write it so badly, but I've promised two Christmas Wish stories, and I should really complete the new chapters for two work-in-progress stories, in another fandom. Still ... perhaps if I just posted a short first chapter to set the stage ...
Feb. 9th, 2008 05:08 pm (UTC)
Wonderful! I already fed you at FF.net
A wonderful and achingly beautiful and haunting love story. I hope to read more soon.

Feb. 9th, 2008 05:19 pm (UTC)
Re: Wonderful! I already fed you at FF.net
Thanks I really appreciate that you review a second time it means a lot.
Aug. 16th, 2008 04:40 am (UTC)
Continue Please!
I love this story of yours but I was just wondering if you were going to continue it. I also love reading your Tin Man fanfiction. Sorry I'm a bit of fanfic whore. I read all kinds lol.

Thanks for listening.

Aug. 16th, 2008 06:05 am (UTC)
Re: Continue Please!
Thank you so much for asking. My life is in a bit of a mess at the moment, but I'd working on both this story and "Making Memories of Us". Neither is going fast, but they are progressing.

I love both of these stories too and want to get them finished.

Jan. 28th, 2010 06:26 am (UTC)
Hi :D, well... you haven't finished this?? :D, what do you need a new vid?? :D let me know and believe me I'll make it!! I need to know how you end this story... is sooooooo amazing.

I hope your life is better!! Hugs!!! :)
Jan. 28th, 2010 01:29 pm (UTC)
I've been playing with the ending, but at the moment I'm concentrating on selling my condo and moving in preperation for retiring. As much as I need to write to add peace to my life, words just aren't coming.

I will get this finished!!!!
Mar. 16th, 2010 06:30 am (UTC)
So glad to hear that, especially since I just found this fic and think it is awesome!
Jan. 28th, 2010 01:42 pm (UTC)
I love your music vids and would never say no to one of those......
Jan. 28th, 2010 04:19 pm (UTC)
Ok :D, first good luck in selling your condo and moving, retiring is a big thing and I hope everything goes well.

And the moment I finish I vid I promised to deliver during next week, is working in our new Nicky/Jason :D, I'll set on finding a good song ;), maybe more action but still romantic, hugs!!! Be well :D
( 16 comments — Leave a comment )



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September 2012


The moving finger writes: and having writ Moves on. nor all your piety nor wit Shall lure it back to cancal half a line, Nor all your tears wash out a word of it...The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

If I quiet the voices in my head, I would face the day with nothing to write. - Unknown

I must go down to the seas again the lonely sea and sky...J Masefield

Cinderella walked on broken glass,
Sleeping beauty let a whole lifetime pass.
Belle fell in love with a hideous beast,
Jasmine married a common thief.
Ariel walked on land for love and life,
Snow white barely escaped a knife.
It was all about blood, sweat, and tears.
Because love means facing your biggest fears

The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of...French Proverb

I have drempt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after. They've gone through me like wine through water and altered the colour of my mind ...E. Bronte

To love someone deeply gives you strength. Being loved by someone deeply gives you courage...Lao Tzu

It takes chaos to give birth to a dancing star ..F. Nietzsche

How many loved your moments of glad grace, and loved your beauty with love false or true? But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face...Yeats

Let us go, you and I, when the evening is spread out against the sky...T. S. Eliot

In that book which is my memory, on the first page of the chapter, that is the day when I first met you, appears the words, "here begins a new life".
La Vita Nuova

Midnight courage of the heart...Jen Kirkwood

The three o-clock in the morning courage which Bonaparte thought was the rarest...Thoreau

Did you say it? I love you; I don't ever want to live without you; you changed my life. Did you say it?
Make a plan, set a goal, work toward it, but every now and then, look around, drink it in, 'cause this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow. - Meredith Grey

Shakespeare is easy, life is hard...Wheels

Don't try to be a great man, just be a man. Let history make up its own mind...Z.Cochron

I had a job to do and I was unafraid...Jack to John Creighton

For I dipt into the future, as far as the human eye could see. Saw the vision of the world, and the wonders that can be...RWW Hipwell

Without diviation from the norm, progress is impossible...F. Zappa

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea, In a beautiful pea-green boat: They took some honey and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, and sang to a small guitar...E Lear

Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon and blow, Blow him again to me;... Tennison

Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn... Keats

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