Author's Note: This is my latest story that serves as a sort of rewrite of the lastest movie, Jason Bourne. Though it is loosely based on the movie, you do not have to have seen the movie to understand everything, because like I mentioned, the plot is only very loosely based on the movie. However, it might help a bit with understanding the supporting characters since I will focus mainly on Jason's perspective. This takes place in the movie universe ten years after the original trilogy ended. Reviews really help me by evaluating my writing and are greatly encouraged!

Chapter 1 - Take it on the Lam

Syntagma Square. Protesters swarmed the streets in an ever-expanding bubble of destruction and chaos. Severely understaffed police forces in full riot gear tried to push back at the edges of the bubble, but made little progress. Lighted bottles filled with gasoline, or Molotov cocktails, were hurled at police, as were various other items such as bricks, rocks, and open bags of fecal matter. Rioters would run up to barricades and kick them over, while some others would simply jump the barricades and charge full speed at the police. Dozens of arrests were made, but with so many other emergencies to attend to, dozens more escaped and continued to wreak havoc. Cars were burned, buildings were looted, and the authorities could only hope that the military police would arrive before the entire city fell apart at its foundation.

Nicky watched the chaos unfold from the window of a metro bus. Despite the anarchy materializing around the city, buses offered a strange place of solace for the citizens who were not as zealous as their enraged counterparts. A terrified woman held two small children against her. Other riders glanced nervously from window to window. The bus driver was in constant communication with other drivers in the area via radio. They warned each other where the riots would get worse, or pointed out where police had successfully made a path through the protesters.

Nicky knew that she would be watched and followed. But she was no longer the simple Treadstone logistical coordinator she used to be. Years of running from the government taught her many tricks and skills that she constantly practiced and put into practice. Hiding in the crowd of a massive riot made it a nightmare for anyone trying to track her. The police forces stationed no more than 50 feet apart from each other was an added bonus.

Years ago, Jason Bourne had used this very same tactic to abduct her and interrogate her in Berlin. He had ordered her to get on the train as a large crowd marched through the area, giving him plenty of cover from the Blackbriar operatives and security cameras. A harrowing experience for Nicky, but an educational one still.

Jason Bourne. He was the man she needed to find in this crowd, but if there was anything else that she had learned from her time on the run with Jason, it is that you don't find Jason Bourne; Jason Bourne finds you.

He found her standing by a bus stop, a rare peaceful area that was within spitting distance of the protest. An occasional rioter or two would run by, but nothing too crazy happened there. It was a risk, stepping out into a relatively open area that was separated from the main protest, but she was willing to take that risk to help Jason find her. He needed to know.

"What's wrong?" he asked. His tone was pressing, but he didn't demand that she tell him everything he needed to know right there and then. She might have even thought he sounded concerned.

"I work with Christian Dassault," she said. "I have the black ops files."

"Jesus, Nicky..." Jason looked around nervously. "He's going to get you killed," he warned.

"I'm not asking you to help me. I just want you to take a look."

"No." He shook his head. "I'm done."

"They mention your father," Nicky ventured.

An explosion near the protest rocked the ground and Jason whirled around before leaning in closer to Nicky. "My father was just an analyst," he said in a low voice. "What does he have to do with anything?"

Nicky looked over Jason's shoulder nervously, watching a platoon of police officers run towards the source of the explosion. She looked down and turned her body away from the squad car that whizzed past them, sirens blaring. Jason too turned his face away from the car, and both of them were huddled together, facing the empty bus stop. The car passed, and they turned back to face each other.

"I don't know, but that's not all. Before you joined Treadstone, they were watching you."

"Watching me?" Jason asked incredulously.

"Please, just..." she paused. "You need to see them," she said finally.

Jason turned around, and saw two men walking towards them, keeping up an unusually fast pace. They paid no attention to the concerned citizens breaking around them like water around a rock. They were focused forward and Jason knew.

"We have to go," he said to Nicky. "Circle back around here in ten minutes. I'll draw them away."

He turned his entire body towards the two men, giving them plenty of a target to follow. One of the men pointed directly at Jason, and they sped up. They really needed to work on not alerting their targets that they're being followed, he thought. Nicky looked back at Jason worriedly before hurrying off in the opposite direction. Once again, the chase was on.


Jason had found a bike and quickly located Nicky, who fearlessly jumped onto the back. The asset's car was not far behind them, and despite the motorcycle's superior handling around tight corners, the asset had proved to be a more than capable driver, managing to keep up with them in his bulky sedan. It wasn't until Jason toppled a flaming barrel onto the road did the asset finally give up the chase. His car in flames, the asset quickly ran through a series of buildings to chase them on foot. The bike continued to swerve through pedestrians and road blocks. They had lost the asset, but Jason suspected that wasn't the last they would see of him.

"Stay low!" Bourne yelled behind him. There were police barricades seemingly at every turn, forcing him into a linear, predictable, and most of all, dangerous route. This upcoming stretch of street was long and narrow with barely any cover. If he was planning to take someone out during a bike chase, he would have chosen this street himself. It was too easy for any sniper, and far too easy for an asset, nonetheless. He knew the shot would come from behind.

He looked behind and saw Nicky, clinging onto him for dear life. The asset would get to her first.

Jason slammed on the brakes, lurching the bike to a halt. Jason jumped off the bike before it even came to a complete stop, jumping back on the bike right behind Nicky.

"What are you doing?" she shouted above the roar of the engine.

Jason didn't answer, only gripped onto the handlebars and revved the engine back to life, speeding down the narrow street. Nicky huddled over in her seat, grabbing onto the front of the bike now that she couldn't hold onto Jason for support. Her eyes watered and stung slightly as the wind whipped by her face. Jason was trying to stay as low as possible, and was almost completely leaning on her.

At first Nicky thought the sound was a car backfiring, but when Jason tumbled backward off the bike, she knew that he had been hit. She faced a most difficult decision. Go down the path of survival and easily outrun the asset. But what of the guilt of leaving Jason behind? Go down the other path and try to save Jason. She would most certainly die. Her mind begged her to run, but her heart would not let her.

Another shot rang out and she didn't have to make a decision. She fell off the bike and it slid into a wall where it crashed into a doorway.

Jason rolled over and quickly dragged his body to cover behind an abandoned car with broken windows. He looked over to the street and saw that Nicky had been taken off the bike. She lay on her back, hand over her stomach. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and Jason could hear her gasping for breath.

"Nicky!" he cried out.

It took him a few moments to register the gunshot wound in his shoulder blade. He grunted in pain as he tried to crawl over to Nicky. The bullet was lodged in his left shoulder, and he shifted his weight to his right side, letting his legs do most of the pushing. His progress was slow but steady. The most important thing he kept in mind was to make sure he wasn't in view of the asset. But since the shot came from behind, it was difficult to know what the asset could and could not see.

"Jas-" Nicky could barely choke his name out.

Jason was hovering above her now, propped up on his elbow. Blood pooled under Nicky's body, stretching out in an ever-growing puddle. A single tear made its way from the corner of her eye down towards her ear. He looked into her eyes and for perhaps the first time, he saw fear. Jason had always known Nicky as a tough and resilient operative, who would without a second thought put herself out on the line for the sake of what she believed in. She first demonstrated her resilience when she went on the run with him, even helping get the Blackbriar asset Desh off his back. Being able to run for ten years showed a special kind of strength, but seeing her like this seriously worried Jason, and Jason Bourne rarely ever worries.

"Hold on, Nicky..."

He tore off a section of his jacket and balled it up, looking down at her wound. She understood and gave a single nod before Jason pressed down over her stomach. She cried out loud as pain shook her but held back from screaming all together, eventually holding the scrap of fabric herself.

A light from behind his eyes blinded him and suddenly he was underwater, looking into the unresponsive face of Marie. Her hair shimmered about her in the murky waters. Her body was lifeless and suspended ethereally. An overwhelming sense of dread came over him.

"Pocket," Nicky managed to whisper.

Jason snapped back into reality and looked down, seeing Nicky's long hair splayed out over her face and the ground, eerily similar to how he remembered Marie. She looked like a marionette puppet whose strings had been cut. Her hand went to her pocket. She struggled to pull whatever it was out, and Jason helped her. It was a locker key. He quickly took it and put it into his own pocket.

He took her wrist in his hand and felt for a pulse. There was a steady beat, but it was incredibly weak. Her breathing was beginning to slow and Jason feared the worst. Her hand moved beneath his grip, and he found her hand slipping into his. Her hand was sticky with blood, but he held her anyway. She struggled to gulp down air. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, but her strength was beginning to wane.

A third gunshot rang out, striking Jason in the back. He nearly collapsed on top of Nicky, but managed to fall to the side instead. He lay there still, facing Nicky, their fingers still intertwined.

The rumble of a helicopter grew louder, and Jason saw a flash of a spotlight before it pointed itself at a tall building on the corner of the narrow street. He realized that the building must have been the place where the asset was positioned. The helicopter meant that the police had found the asset, forcing the asset to stand down. For now, they were safe.

"Remember us-" Nicky's voice trailed off as her eyes fluttered shut. Jason heard the crunch of tires on the street, and he too fell unconscious.

"It was...difficult for me...with you." Nicky stared straight at him, gaze unwavering.

They were sitting in a cafe, on the run. Bourne stared blankly back at her, understanding and yet not understanding at the same time. In that moment, he realized what she was hinting at, but her entire person seemed unfamiliar to him. Across her face a flash of disappointment came and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Bourne saw that she wanted him to remember. He wanted to remember.

"You really don't remember anything." she said matter-of-factly.

He continued his blank stare, a part of him believing, hoping even, that if he looked into her eyes long enough, some part of his brain would set off an avalanche of memories that would all fall into place. He stared...


Bourne woke with a start. Fluorescent light shone in his eyes and he squinted as his pupils contracted. He looked down at himself and realized he was in a cot but not in a hospital. His shoulder still felt sore and he reached up a hand to rub it when he saw his hands were cuffed to the cot. Of course they were.

"Nicky...?" he said softly as he turned his head to scan the room. No one else. He groaned as he lay back down. A pounding headache had moved from the back of his head to the front. His whole body seemed to sway from side to side, though he wasn't sure if that was real or just the headache messing with his senses. He even seemed to smell a slight saltiness in the air.

A door opened and a woman with a low ponytail waked in. Bourne saw she was unarmed and wasn't even wearing a proper uniform for either a doctor or nurse. She was casually dressed in jeans and a flowery top.

"Who are you?" he asked, almost demanding.

"You're on a boat, Jason. Nicky Parsons is next door, resting and recovering."

As part of his training, Jason received no small amount of interrogations training, both on how to successfully extract information and how to guard it. One of the basics of questioning was the idea that information is power. When the woman gave Jason information that he didn't even ask for, she was essentially giving up her power for nothing. Usually that meant she was an ally, but he kept his guard up, just in case it was part of a good-cop-bad-cop tactic.

"Is she okay?" he asked, hopeful.

"She's unconscious but stable. Bullet went clean through her back and out the front. Perforated liver, but she'll be fine."

He decided to push his luck. "Let me see her."

"After we talk," she said firmly.

"Why are you holding us?" Jason questioned.

"We aren't holding you. We're saving your lives," the woman responded. But here..." She pulled a key from her pocket and undid each of the cuffs, much to Jason's surprise. He thought she surely would have put up much more of a fight in taking them off.

Jason's eyes narrowed. She knew his name, so surely she must know he was from Treadstone, and yet she still decided to talk to him with nothing but a pair of flimsy cuffs to stop him from beating all the answers out of her? And now she has even removed that one last safeguard.

"Who are you?" Jason asked.

The door swung open again and a man walked in. He looked powerfully built, but was not excessively bulky. He too was casually dressed, wearing a polo, shorts, and sandals. He folded his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. He gave a big grin to Jason, who returned only with a steely gaze. The man's wide grin slowly faded and he looked back at the woman, who shrugged. She returned her attention to Bourne.

"Jason. My name is Marta Shearing and this is my associate, Aaron Cross."