Never-Finished Fic: Jason/Nicky
Dec. 21st, 2008 05:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rsadelleHappy Hanukkah! There's no particular reason that I'm posting this today, other than that I've been thinking about it.
This could probably be its own ficlet and not an unfinished-fic, but I don't think I'm going to do the cleaning up it might need.
Contains The Bourne Ultimatum spoilers.
Eighteen months later, Nicky's hair is red and she's been living in Florence for all of six weeks. She works at the Uffizi. She went to classes when she had the art student cover, and she speaks four languages. Getting the docent job was easy.
She leaves her last tour group of the day and heads for the back to switch out her docent vest for her street coat and purse. Someone bumps into her and starts to say, "Scusi, sign--"
Her head snaps up and she stops breathing for a moment. They stare at each other.
Jason looks good. Jason has always looked good, but now he looks like he's been sleeping.
He also looks just as surprised to see her as she is to see him.
"Outside," she says. "Five minutes." There's a chance he'll disappear, but she needs a few minutes to regroup.
He nods, and she keeps going into the staff area.
He's lingering on the steps, watching or pretending to watch the human statues.
She brushes up against him on her way past, and he falls into step with her.
She takes him to a cafe she knows will be quiet. They order coffee and look at each other across the table.
"I remember," he finally tells her. "Everything since I became Jason Bourne."
And, oh, she remembers too, and some of those memories flash through her mind now. She thinks, "Yes," and then she remembers Marie, the way Jason looked at her when she dyed her hair black.
"Why are you here?"
"I've never been here."
She knows his file well enough to know he's telling the truth, and him well enough to know that means he wasn't looking for her.
"I'm sorry." The old Jason would never have apologized for anything.
She looks away, out into the street. "Me too." She doesn't look back at him as she says, "You're in love with Marie."
He doesn't deny it. "Marie's dead." He puts his hand over hers. "I can't make any promises," he warns her. "Can I stay, just for tonight?" As if she'd ever deny him anything.
She nods, and he lets go of her hand. They leave the cafe, her coffee untouched, and she leads him back to her small flat.
She puts down her purse and hangs up her coat, and when she turns back, Jason's backpack is on the floor next to the door and he's watching her.
He takes two steps forward, puts his hands on either side of her face, and kisses her.
She wraps her arms around his neck and hitches herself up to get closer to him. She surprises herself with how hungry she is for him.
He draws back and asks, "Where's your bedroom?"
The old Jason would have slammed her up against the door and fucked her there.
She takes him into her bedroom, where he undresses her slowly, almost reverently.
She has condoms, so she steps away and finds one, and gives it to him. She climbs onto the bed, and his eyes don't leave her as he takes off his clothes.
He comes to her and covers her, and she says, "Now, please."
He sits back and puts the condom on, and then he comes back onto her and into her, and she cries out and wraps her legs around him to bring him in deeper. He just rests for a moment before he begins to move.
He's not moving fast enough or hard enough for her, so she rolls them over and takes control.
It's not long before she's chanting his name and he's touching her and moving with her and then he says, "Nicky," and she comes.
He says her name again and pushes hard into her and his face when he comes is the same as before.
She rolls off of him, next to him. He takes the condom off and takes it into the bathroom. She can hear water running and then he comes back to lie next to her, propped up on one elbow so he can look down on her.
"I liked your hair better before." He has strands of it between his fingers as he says it.
"I'll dye it any color you want," she promises him.
He tucks her hair back behind her ear and runs his fingers over her face.
"I love you," she says.
"I know," he says. He kisses her and says it again.
She wants to cry.
This could probably be its own ficlet and not an unfinished-fic, but I don't think I'm going to do the cleaning up it might need.
Contains The Bourne Ultimatum spoilers.
Eighteen months later, Nicky's hair is red and she's been living in Florence for all of six weeks. She works at the Uffizi. She went to classes when she had the art student cover, and she speaks four languages. Getting the docent job was easy.
She leaves her last tour group of the day and heads for the back to switch out her docent vest for her street coat and purse. Someone bumps into her and starts to say, "Scusi, sign--"
Her head snaps up and she stops breathing for a moment. They stare at each other.
Jason looks good. Jason has always looked good, but now he looks like he's been sleeping.
He also looks just as surprised to see her as she is to see him.
"Outside," she says. "Five minutes." There's a chance he'll disappear, but she needs a few minutes to regroup.
He nods, and she keeps going into the staff area.
He's lingering on the steps, watching or pretending to watch the human statues.
She brushes up against him on her way past, and he falls into step with her.
She takes him to a cafe she knows will be quiet. They order coffee and look at each other across the table.
"I remember," he finally tells her. "Everything since I became Jason Bourne."
And, oh, she remembers too, and some of those memories flash through her mind now. She thinks, "Yes," and then she remembers Marie, the way Jason looked at her when she dyed her hair black.
"Why are you here?"
"I've never been here."
She knows his file well enough to know he's telling the truth, and him well enough to know that means he wasn't looking for her.
"I'm sorry." The old Jason would never have apologized for anything.
She looks away, out into the street. "Me too." She doesn't look back at him as she says, "You're in love with Marie."
He doesn't deny it. "Marie's dead." He puts his hand over hers. "I can't make any promises," he warns her. "Can I stay, just for tonight?" As if she'd ever deny him anything.
She nods, and he lets go of her hand. They leave the cafe, her coffee untouched, and she leads him back to her small flat.
She puts down her purse and hangs up her coat, and when she turns back, Jason's backpack is on the floor next to the door and he's watching her.
He takes two steps forward, puts his hands on either side of her face, and kisses her.
She wraps her arms around his neck and hitches herself up to get closer to him. She surprises herself with how hungry she is for him.
He draws back and asks, "Where's your bedroom?"
The old Jason would have slammed her up against the door and fucked her there.
She takes him into her bedroom, where he undresses her slowly, almost reverently.
She has condoms, so she steps away and finds one, and gives it to him. She climbs onto the bed, and his eyes don't leave her as he takes off his clothes.
He comes to her and covers her, and she says, "Now, please."
He sits back and puts the condom on, and then he comes back onto her and into her, and she cries out and wraps her legs around him to bring him in deeper. He just rests for a moment before he begins to move.
He's not moving fast enough or hard enough for her, so she rolls them over and takes control.
It's not long before she's chanting his name and he's touching her and moving with her and then he says, "Nicky," and she comes.
He says her name again and pushes hard into her and his face when he comes is the same as before.
She rolls off of him, next to him. He takes the condom off and takes it into the bathroom. She can hear water running and then he comes back to lie next to her, propped up on one elbow so he can look down on her.
"I liked your hair better before." He has strands of it between his fingers as he says it.
"I'll dye it any color you want," she promises him.
He tucks her hair back behind her ear and runs his fingers over her face.
"I love you," she says.
"I know," he says. He kisses her and says it again.
She wants to cry.