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nanuk_dainTitle: Expect the Unexpected
Fandom: The Bourne Supremacy/R.E.D.
Pairing: Jason Bourne/Kirill with implied Frank Moses/William Cooper
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU, established relationship, wee bit of angst, crossover with R.E.D.
Word count: approx. 4.000
Series: Unexpected – Part 5
Disclaimer: Not mine, but then, you knew that already. Because, hey, let's be honest, I would have done entirely different things with them if they were mine. And Bourne and Kirill would have had a lot more screen time together – and that not only chasing each other in cars... XD
Comment: So this part was basically the reason this whole series started. It is part of two series, the Unexpected series from the Bourne Trilogy and the Belonging series from R.E.D. It's kind of a crossing point of the two fandoms, so you might have read it already in the context of my R.E.D. fics.
Summary: When there are rumours of Kirill getting back into the game, Jason follows the leads and finds something he hadn't expected.
*********
He was in a small town in France when the rumours reached him. They said something along the lines of a Russian industrial magnate entering the drug business and having his own, highly feared assassin who'd just made two hits in Mexico. Excellent hits, conducted with total perfection. That alone had made Jason Bourne suspicious, because all the descriptions pointed towards Kirill. What else Jason could gather through a little bit of research and some back doors in the system gave him the place of Cancún and a detailed report on the situation by the local authorities. He was on the plane not five hours later.
He hated flying, because it gave him time to think, and that was something he preferred to avoid. Ever since Marie's death, he had hated being alone when he had nothing to do, but ever since Kirill's disappearance, he couldn't even stand the thought of spending time in a situation that made him think. Travelling by anything but a car did that to him, and a plane was even worse with all the long hours of undisturbed silence. He had liked to travel with Kirill, though, even if the Russian had never been a man of many words. Just his presence had been enough to keep Jason away from painful memories, and he had often wondered if that had been true for Kirill, too. It certainly had seemed so.
The plane left the airport, rose into the air and Jason stared out of the window down to the city below that became smaller and smaller until it vanished under the clouds. It had been over a year, and he still didn't know what had happened, if Kirill was alive or dead. Not knowing was the worst part, it was even worse than the certainty of Marie's death. He had never thought that one day, he would be able to say Marie's name and her killer's in the same sentence without being overwhelmed by grief, anger and pain. Now, there were other emotions connected to Kirill, deep, intense emotions he had never expected either, but which had happened nonetheless. The moment their eyes had met during that car chase in Moscow, he had known he had found his equal. They had both known, and it was part of the reason he hadn't pulled the trigger when Kirill's car had been crashed against the pier. That and the Russian's gaze at that moment, this intense, defiant gaze even though Krill had been struck in the car, helpless and unable to move, with blood running down his face.
“Do you want something to drink, sir?” The polite voice of a stewardess interrupted his musings, and Jason was secretly grateful for it. He asked for a coffee and turned back to look out of the window with the hot foam cup in his hands. It reminded him of how warm Kirill's hands had always been and he remembered how the Russian had chuckled when Jason had made a comment about it, and had told him that was because he had grown up in a very cold climate. How the warm fingers had wandered down his spine in a gentle caress that nobody would have thought a trained, seasoned assassin capable of. But Kirill had so much tenderness inside him that it sometimes had threatened to overwhelm Jason, yet he had loved every moment of it. Especially since Kirill showed it so rarely, it was a treasure to Jason. He felt a smile on his lips at the memory. It was a good one, and he had few of those.
Every time he thought about Kirill, he wondered what had happened to him and if he ever found out. He had lost count of the times he had thought about this, had gone through all scenarios he could imagine, yet nothing had led him closer to the Russian. Maybe this was his lead, maybe he would finally be able to find out why Kirill had left. Jason was utterly relieved when the plane finally landed and he could get back into action, leaving his dark thoughts in the back corner of his brain where he could ignore them for a while longer. Kirill was his soft spot, his weakness, and he knew it.
It wasn't easy to find the hideout. But then, he would have been disappointed if it had been. Kirill was good, very good, actually, and it wasn't like he'd do anything that would be easy to trace. So when Jason approached the little vacation home, he proceeded with utter care, he knew Kirill wouldn't have left the house unprotected. His suspicion proved correct and he had to disarm four booby traps before he could even come anywhere close to the walls. He circled the house once to get an impression and encountered some more traps, one of which he would almost have triggered. Kirill had obviously changed his style, because these traps were different from what they had used to set up around their hideouts.
Jason carefully peeked into the window that lead to the bedroom and found it empty. No surprise here, the light had been off, while in the adjacent room, it shone dimly through the window. But it was better to be safe than sorry, Jason had learned a long time ago. He crept on, carefully watching out for further traps, but finding none. When he risked a glance through the window, he was shocked for a moment when he finally set eyes on the Russian, who stood with his back towards Jason, bend down over the sink in the kitchen, only wearing faded jeans, his feet bare on the tiles. Jason swallowed against the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He hadn't been prepared to really find Kirill, he just realised.
Kirill had changed. He was stronger, as if he had entirely recovered from his injuries in the time he'd been gone. Jason knew that should be impossible, Kirill's injuries had been too grave for that, but he moved with such effortless grace that it was obvious his leg didn't bother him anymore. There were new scars on his body, a long ragged one on his left arm and what looked like a faded gunshot wound on his right shoulder. When Kirill turned, Jason saw the strong black lines of the tattoo he'd heard about in the rumour mill, the loyalty praise from Merov and Mendez. It looked oddly beautiful on the fair skin, Jason thought and hated himself for falling back in this pointless attraction yet again. It was so easy to remember what the skin had felt like under his fingertips.
Jason resolutely shut out all thoughts about that, hardened himself for the confrontation he knew was about to come. It wouldn't do to show Kirill how much it had hurt to find him gone, how much it had thrown Jason off the track, how it had come as a total surprise. But he knew how to hide his feelings, he had enough practise with that to pull an dispassionate mask over his features, one that betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil. He watched Kirill walk over in the adjacent room and used the unobserved moment to enter through the window, quickly taking care of another trap that matched the one he would have used in this situation. Jason slid towards the wall next to the door to what he knew was the living room, and heard the near silent sound of bare feet returning towards the kitchen. He waited until Kirill was in the middle of the room, well into the aim of his gun, before he spoke.
“Rumours travel fast, Kirill.” Jason said, keeping his aim fixed on the Russian and hoping that his voice didn't betray his feelings. It worked well, but he still made en effort to sound cold and cynical. Kirill had always been too good at reading him. “So, you are still alive. But tell me, what was it that made you come out of hiding?”
The Russian froze, his back towards Jason. He turned slowly towards the source of the voice, careful to keep his hands visible to avoid provoking a shot. Something was off, Jason thought while he watched Kirill. There was not the faintest trace of recognition in Kirill's eyes when they met his, nothing at all, as if he was looking at a total stranger. And Kirill had never been that good an actor, so either he had forgotten – something Jason only considered due to personal experience – or this was something entirely different. Something he couldn't grab yet.
“Take your gun off him.” A calm voice said behind him and for a moment Jason was seriously surprised that somebody had managed to sneak up on him. There was no threat following the order, but there was no need to voice it, Jason heard the cold steel under the quiet words clearly. He demonstratively relaxed his stance and trailed the gun off Kirill, lowering it and taking the finger off the trigger. He never heard the man circle him, which was another thing that amazed him, but he saw his tall, strong frame enter the range of his vision. The man was older than Jason had expected, a lot older, actually, than the skill he had just shown suggested. In his mid to late fifties, Jason guessed, and even though he was bald, his body spoke of the trained experience of an agent in the field. So did his posture, his grip on the gun, his way to move and his intense gaze. Who was that man? Was that supposed to be Merov? It seemed highly unlikely, not only because Merov would never hide in this modest vacation home, but also because his accent was clearly American.
With utter fascination, Jason watched how the man moved until he was positioned between the unarmed Kirill and Jason's gun. Should Jason decide to raise the weapon for a shot, he'd have to shoot the man before he could reach Kirill. For a moment, Jason felt something akin to furious jealousy, nobody had the right to be so protective of Kirill but he himself.
“Who are you?” the man asked, voice still quiet, but the expression on his face left no doubt that he would make good use of his gun if he deemed it necessary. Behind him, Kirill reached out and pulled out a second gun that the older man must have been carrying in his waistband. Jason looked from the older man to Kirill, took in their body language that screamed of the protectiveness of family. No, Jason thought after a second, not family, *lovers*. The minuscule shift of the older man towards Kirill's side, an unconscious gesture of reassurance, protection and affection, something so subtle an untrained eye would never have spotted it. And Kirill reacted to it instantly, shifted in the same kind of gesture, his eyes cold and fierce and focussed on Jason over the barrel of his gun.
“Well, you may want to start answering.” Kirill said and Jason frowned in surprise. This was neither the right voice nor the right accent. It was then that Jason recognised that whoever that man was, he was not Kirill.
***
“You're not him.” Cooper heard the intruder say and his voice reflected certainty, confusion and something that sounded a lot like disappointment, even sadness to Cooper's ears. He couldn't help frowning at the stranger who had actually managed to invade their hideout – that alone marked him as a very dangerous and experienced man – and took a closer look at him. The hurt aggression Cooper had felt coming off him before had disappeared and was replaced by careful alert now, the expression in his eyes had changed from the badly hidden anger to something between suspicion and confusion.
“Who are you?” Frank repeated next to Cooper, and he could hear the faint easing of Frank's tension because he had obviously also noticed the change in the stranger's behaviour. There was no doubt in that man's eyes that he *knew* Cooper was not Kirill, as if he knew it with such certainty that the motivation for his visit had just dissolved.
“A rather more interesting question would be who *you* are”, the man replied and looked pointedly at Cooper, “because you may look like Kirill, but you're most certainly not him. But since I heard rumours of him working here, and you looking like him, the question arises why you are *impersonating* him.”
Cooper frowned. There was something about the man that made him relax, even though he was well aware of how dangerous he must be. And he had obviously known Kirill, known him so well that he could tell them apart. But he hadn't been mentioned in Kirill's file, all his connections had been come with a picture, but the man's face had not been among them. So who was this man who was unknown even to the CIA?
“What makes you think *we* are the ones replying to *your* questions?” he asked and held his gaze fixed on the man.
“Because you want to know who I am and how I know Kirill, since he's your alias and it can't be very comforting to know there are people who can blow your cover.” The man relaxed even further, snapped the safety on and put his gun away. When he looked up, his gaze held a note Cooper couldn't define. “And since you are not Kirill, my business is not with you.”
“Well then.” Frank said and relaxed his stance without actually lowering his gun. “Let's play a game. You answer a question, then we answer one. To show your good will, you could start with telling us who you are.”
The man stood still and his gaze scanned Frank, then it wandered over to Cooper and lingered on him for while. He seemed to assess them. “I take it you are CIA. You show every sign of it.”
Neither Frank nor Cooper reacted to the statement, but then, Frank wasn't an agent any more and Cooper was not here on an official mission, so they were not even lying by not saying yes. The man kept his gaze on Cooper, he seemed to be unable to look away for a longer period of time. “My name is Jason Bourne.”
Cooper couldn't help his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You're kidding me.”
“The age fits, so does the description.” Frank provided next to him. Cooper didn't even want to know how Frank knew that, because the whole Bourne affair had gone down years *after* Frank's official retirement. Henry, he guessed and sighed inwardly.
The man – Bourne – watched them with something between amusement and confusion. “You seem to know more about me that I do. I was right about the CIA then.”
Frank shrugged and lowered his gun. “Partly.”
Cooper followed his example, even though he kept the weapon ready. He had heard enough about Jason Bourne to know he was extremely dangerous. He had never had access to the man's files, but Henry didn't only talk to Frank. And Bourne was a legend among the agents, nearly as much as Frank or Victoria. And he had gained that status at about half their age.
“It's your turn to answer a question.” Bourne said and casually leaned against the counter. “Who are you?”
Frank put his gun away and gave Bourne a long look. Whatever test Frank had set for him, he seemed to pass. “Frank Moses.”
Bourne's eyes showed that the name meant something to him and he smirked. “I hadn't expected to ever meet a legend.”
Frank chuckled and somehow that broke the tension in the room. “I could return that.”
Cooper wondered what it was about the man that made them trust him with their real names. Maybe it was this aura of earnesty that seemed to cling to him like a shadow. Whatever it was, Cooper trusted Frank's judgement, especially since it accorded with his own. “William Cooper.”
“I've heard of you, too.” Bourne replied. “The Vice President affair.”
Cooper wondered how the man had gotten hold of the files, because the real case had never made it to the press. Obviously, since Cooper had done everything to make sure of that. But then, if he had learned one thing from all the rumours, it was that Bourne was good at what he was doing, so good that the CIA wasn't able to find him, even less to get hold of him. He was a master in hiding, which meant he was a master in finding what he was looking for as well. Cooper wouldn't even ask how Bourne had found *them*, it would be pointless. But there were other things he wanted to know.
“How do you know Kirill?”
“We have... history.” Bourne said carefully. “He was set on me when some influential people thought that I knew too much.” He snorted. “Which is ironic in itself. Long story short, he killed somebody thinking it was me and we ended up in a rather fanatical game of tag.”
“Why did you come here, then?” Cooper asked with a raised eyebrow. “Revenge?”
“No.” Bourne's voice was clipped. “We were long past revenge.”
“What then?” Cooper pushed. Bourne's gaze wandered from Cooper to Frank and back. It made Cooper's skin prickle unpleasantly, as if the man could see right through him.
“We were like you.” Bourne just replied and his gaze told Cooper that he knew about his and Frank's real relationship. He had no idea how, but Bourne knew. Well, that certainly explained how Bourne had been able to tell that Cooper wasn't Kirill. “Then he disappeared about a year ago.”
“You thought you had a lead on him.” Frank said slowly, understanding in his eyes.
“Well, I was obviously wrong.” Bourne's voice sounded angry, resigned and sad at the same time and Cooper wondered how it was possible to put so much emotion in so few words. “It was only you using him as an alias. Although I have to admit that Cooper fits his appearance really well. Which leads me to the question I already asked: Why are you impersonating Kirill?”
Cooper figured they owed Bourne a few answers for his honesty. Because even though he had no idea how he knew, he was certain that every word the man had said was the truth. Call it instinct. And his instincts had served Cooper very well over the years, so he had taken to listen to them.
“My contract was to give Mendez to the local police.” Frank explained and from the way he left out all further detail, it was obvious that he knew Bourne had the background information necessary to understand what he was talking about. “I took the role of Merov and ended up under rather strict supervision. The persona of Kirill was my leverage and Will was the perfect person for the job, as you can doubtlessly see yourself.”
Cooper noted how Frank left out the involvement of the other members of the Gang and decided to go with it. Since most of their group were either hurt or otherwise incapacitated, there was no use in bringing them into this. Bourne watched Frank, then his gaze wandered over the black lines on Cooper's left shoulder.
“And the tattoo?”
“Unusual means of communication.” Cooper said with a heavy sigh before he glared at Frank. “Don't ask.”
Frank smirked and didn't even bother to hide it and Cooper was sure he saw an equally amused expression on Bourne's face. “I understand.”
“The sun is about to rise.” Frank remarked and Cooper was sure he was just trying to change the subject. Well, Bourne couldn't have missed the hickey on Cooper's shoulder, right over the mole that had marked Mendez' villa, and Cooper was glad he hadn't made a comment. Frank casually walked over to the counter and busied himself with cups and plates. “I want a coffee and breakfast. Anybody else?”
Before they could answer, Frank was already preparing enough coffee for at least six people. But then, Frank knew Cooper tended to drink a lot of it in the morning, especially when he hadn't slept during the night. Only some minutes later, Frank handed Bourne and Cooper steaming mugs and took a deep gulp out of his own.
“You go outside drink your coffee and let me make breakfast.” Frank declared determinedly and sent them out onto the porch. Cooper knew Frank had noticed how Bourne's gaze had wandered to Cooper again and again, a sad kind of gaze, one that spoke of how the resemblance of Cooper and Kirill made him remember what he had lost. Frank wanted to give them the opportunity to talk, and Cooper appreciated the gesture. The whole night had been weird, this might help to clear thing up a little.
“Your resemblance is really astonishing.” Bourne said with a sad little smile, giving Cooper a quick glance when they sat down on the steps to the porch. “But now I see the differences so clearly that I wonder how I could take you for him in the first place.”
Cooper looked at the face that seemed far to boyish and young to carry a soul of such sadness. Cooper knew his own career hadn't exactly been innocent, but compared to what Jason Bourne had lived through, he felt like a child.
“I guess it was a typical case of desperate wishful thinking.” Bourne went on quietly, then he chuckled, but it sounded resigned rather than amused. His fingers absent-mindedly stroked over the hot coffee cup in a slow motion. “You know what they say: Hope dies last.”
“You won't stop looking for him, will you?” Cooper asked, even though he already knew the answer. He knew *he* would never stop looking if it had been Frank who'd disappeared.
“I only wanted to live in peace, you know? Away from all this.” Bourne made a vague gesture with his hand. “And I did, for about two years. It ended the moment Kirill disappeared.”
“And you need to find him if you ever want to live in peace again.” Cooper concluded, understanding.
“I need to know what happened to him.” Bourne said quietly and it sounded like he was correcting Cooper. “If he is dead, then I need to know. Everything is better than not knowing.”
Cooper nodded slowly. He had been in that situation, too. “I hope you find him alive, though.”
Bourne was quiet for a long time, gaze lost in the distance. “Yeah, me too.”
They fell silent, sipping their coffee in the fresh, untouched quiet of the early morning. Cooper couldn't say why it was so easy for him to bond with this stranger, this man he'd only met some hours ago when he'd been pointing a gun at Cooper's chest. Yet there was the wish to help Bourne who seemed lost in this world, lost in a way that Cooper couldn't even begin to understand, and he assumed that Frank felt the same. What he comprehended on every level, though, was what it meant to lose somebody and not to know what had happened to them. Cooper hadn't ever met Kirill, but there had to be something special about the man if he had gained Bourne's affection and loyalty even after the history they shared. And if Cooper understood one thing, than that life sometimes took the most unexpected turns at the most unexpected moment.
“You are very lucky.” Bourne suddenly remarked in this quiet voice of his and nodded towards Frank, who was just making eggs and bacon in the frying pan, feet bare and his jeans riding low without a belt.
Cooper followed his gaze and felt a sincere smile tug at his lips. “I know.”
*** The End
Fandom: The Bourne Supremacy/R.E.D.
Pairing: Jason Bourne/Kirill with implied Frank Moses/William Cooper
Author: Nanuk Dain
e-mail: nanukdain@gmx.net
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU, established relationship, wee bit of angst, crossover with R.E.D.
Word count: approx. 4.000
Series: Unexpected – Part 5
Disclaimer: Not mine, but then, you knew that already. Because, hey, let's be honest, I would have done entirely different things with them if they were mine. And Bourne and Kirill would have had a lot more screen time together – and that not only chasing each other in cars... XD
Comment: So this part was basically the reason this whole series started. It is part of two series, the Unexpected series from the Bourne Trilogy and the Belonging series from R.E.D. It's kind of a crossing point of the two fandoms, so you might have read it already in the context of my R.E.D. fics.
Summary: When there are rumours of Kirill getting back into the game, Jason follows the leads and finds something he hadn't expected.
*********
He was in a small town in France when the rumours reached him. They said something along the lines of a Russian industrial magnate entering the drug business and having his own, highly feared assassin who'd just made two hits in Mexico. Excellent hits, conducted with total perfection. That alone had made Jason Bourne suspicious, because all the descriptions pointed towards Kirill. What else Jason could gather through a little bit of research and some back doors in the system gave him the place of Cancún and a detailed report on the situation by the local authorities. He was on the plane not five hours later.
He hated flying, because it gave him time to think, and that was something he preferred to avoid. Ever since Marie's death, he had hated being alone when he had nothing to do, but ever since Kirill's disappearance, he couldn't even stand the thought of spending time in a situation that made him think. Travelling by anything but a car did that to him, and a plane was even worse with all the long hours of undisturbed silence. He had liked to travel with Kirill, though, even if the Russian had never been a man of many words. Just his presence had been enough to keep Jason away from painful memories, and he had often wondered if that had been true for Kirill, too. It certainly had seemed so.
The plane left the airport, rose into the air and Jason stared out of the window down to the city below that became smaller and smaller until it vanished under the clouds. It had been over a year, and he still didn't know what had happened, if Kirill was alive or dead. Not knowing was the worst part, it was even worse than the certainty of Marie's death. He had never thought that one day, he would be able to say Marie's name and her killer's in the same sentence without being overwhelmed by grief, anger and pain. Now, there were other emotions connected to Kirill, deep, intense emotions he had never expected either, but which had happened nonetheless. The moment their eyes had met during that car chase in Moscow, he had known he had found his equal. They had both known, and it was part of the reason he hadn't pulled the trigger when Kirill's car had been crashed against the pier. That and the Russian's gaze at that moment, this intense, defiant gaze even though Krill had been struck in the car, helpless and unable to move, with blood running down his face.
“Do you want something to drink, sir?” The polite voice of a stewardess interrupted his musings, and Jason was secretly grateful for it. He asked for a coffee and turned back to look out of the window with the hot foam cup in his hands. It reminded him of how warm Kirill's hands had always been and he remembered how the Russian had chuckled when Jason had made a comment about it, and had told him that was because he had grown up in a very cold climate. How the warm fingers had wandered down his spine in a gentle caress that nobody would have thought a trained, seasoned assassin capable of. But Kirill had so much tenderness inside him that it sometimes had threatened to overwhelm Jason, yet he had loved every moment of it. Especially since Kirill showed it so rarely, it was a treasure to Jason. He felt a smile on his lips at the memory. It was a good one, and he had few of those.
Every time he thought about Kirill, he wondered what had happened to him and if he ever found out. He had lost count of the times he had thought about this, had gone through all scenarios he could imagine, yet nothing had led him closer to the Russian. Maybe this was his lead, maybe he would finally be able to find out why Kirill had left. Jason was utterly relieved when the plane finally landed and he could get back into action, leaving his dark thoughts in the back corner of his brain where he could ignore them for a while longer. Kirill was his soft spot, his weakness, and he knew it.
It wasn't easy to find the hideout. But then, he would have been disappointed if it had been. Kirill was good, very good, actually, and it wasn't like he'd do anything that would be easy to trace. So when Jason approached the little vacation home, he proceeded with utter care, he knew Kirill wouldn't have left the house unprotected. His suspicion proved correct and he had to disarm four booby traps before he could even come anywhere close to the walls. He circled the house once to get an impression and encountered some more traps, one of which he would almost have triggered. Kirill had obviously changed his style, because these traps were different from what they had used to set up around their hideouts.
Jason carefully peeked into the window that lead to the bedroom and found it empty. No surprise here, the light had been off, while in the adjacent room, it shone dimly through the window. But it was better to be safe than sorry, Jason had learned a long time ago. He crept on, carefully watching out for further traps, but finding none. When he risked a glance through the window, he was shocked for a moment when he finally set eyes on the Russian, who stood with his back towards Jason, bend down over the sink in the kitchen, only wearing faded jeans, his feet bare on the tiles. Jason swallowed against the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. He hadn't been prepared to really find Kirill, he just realised.
Kirill had changed. He was stronger, as if he had entirely recovered from his injuries in the time he'd been gone. Jason knew that should be impossible, Kirill's injuries had been too grave for that, but he moved with such effortless grace that it was obvious his leg didn't bother him anymore. There were new scars on his body, a long ragged one on his left arm and what looked like a faded gunshot wound on his right shoulder. When Kirill turned, Jason saw the strong black lines of the tattoo he'd heard about in the rumour mill, the loyalty praise from Merov and Mendez. It looked oddly beautiful on the fair skin, Jason thought and hated himself for falling back in this pointless attraction yet again. It was so easy to remember what the skin had felt like under his fingertips.
Jason resolutely shut out all thoughts about that, hardened himself for the confrontation he knew was about to come. It wouldn't do to show Kirill how much it had hurt to find him gone, how much it had thrown Jason off the track, how it had come as a total surprise. But he knew how to hide his feelings, he had enough practise with that to pull an dispassionate mask over his features, one that betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil. He watched Kirill walk over in the adjacent room and used the unobserved moment to enter through the window, quickly taking care of another trap that matched the one he would have used in this situation. Jason slid towards the wall next to the door to what he knew was the living room, and heard the near silent sound of bare feet returning towards the kitchen. He waited until Kirill was in the middle of the room, well into the aim of his gun, before he spoke.
“Rumours travel fast, Kirill.” Jason said, keeping his aim fixed on the Russian and hoping that his voice didn't betray his feelings. It worked well, but he still made en effort to sound cold and cynical. Kirill had always been too good at reading him. “So, you are still alive. But tell me, what was it that made you come out of hiding?”
The Russian froze, his back towards Jason. He turned slowly towards the source of the voice, careful to keep his hands visible to avoid provoking a shot. Something was off, Jason thought while he watched Kirill. There was not the faintest trace of recognition in Kirill's eyes when they met his, nothing at all, as if he was looking at a total stranger. And Kirill had never been that good an actor, so either he had forgotten – something Jason only considered due to personal experience – or this was something entirely different. Something he couldn't grab yet.
“Take your gun off him.” A calm voice said behind him and for a moment Jason was seriously surprised that somebody had managed to sneak up on him. There was no threat following the order, but there was no need to voice it, Jason heard the cold steel under the quiet words clearly. He demonstratively relaxed his stance and trailed the gun off Kirill, lowering it and taking the finger off the trigger. He never heard the man circle him, which was another thing that amazed him, but he saw his tall, strong frame enter the range of his vision. The man was older than Jason had expected, a lot older, actually, than the skill he had just shown suggested. In his mid to late fifties, Jason guessed, and even though he was bald, his body spoke of the trained experience of an agent in the field. So did his posture, his grip on the gun, his way to move and his intense gaze. Who was that man? Was that supposed to be Merov? It seemed highly unlikely, not only because Merov would never hide in this modest vacation home, but also because his accent was clearly American.
With utter fascination, Jason watched how the man moved until he was positioned between the unarmed Kirill and Jason's gun. Should Jason decide to raise the weapon for a shot, he'd have to shoot the man before he could reach Kirill. For a moment, Jason felt something akin to furious jealousy, nobody had the right to be so protective of Kirill but he himself.
“Who are you?” the man asked, voice still quiet, but the expression on his face left no doubt that he would make good use of his gun if he deemed it necessary. Behind him, Kirill reached out and pulled out a second gun that the older man must have been carrying in his waistband. Jason looked from the older man to Kirill, took in their body language that screamed of the protectiveness of family. No, Jason thought after a second, not family, *lovers*. The minuscule shift of the older man towards Kirill's side, an unconscious gesture of reassurance, protection and affection, something so subtle an untrained eye would never have spotted it. And Kirill reacted to it instantly, shifted in the same kind of gesture, his eyes cold and fierce and focussed on Jason over the barrel of his gun.
“Well, you may want to start answering.” Kirill said and Jason frowned in surprise. This was neither the right voice nor the right accent. It was then that Jason recognised that whoever that man was, he was not Kirill.
***
“You're not him.” Cooper heard the intruder say and his voice reflected certainty, confusion and something that sounded a lot like disappointment, even sadness to Cooper's ears. He couldn't help frowning at the stranger who had actually managed to invade their hideout – that alone marked him as a very dangerous and experienced man – and took a closer look at him. The hurt aggression Cooper had felt coming off him before had disappeared and was replaced by careful alert now, the expression in his eyes had changed from the badly hidden anger to something between suspicion and confusion.
“Who are you?” Frank repeated next to Cooper, and he could hear the faint easing of Frank's tension because he had obviously also noticed the change in the stranger's behaviour. There was no doubt in that man's eyes that he *knew* Cooper was not Kirill, as if he knew it with such certainty that the motivation for his visit had just dissolved.
“A rather more interesting question would be who *you* are”, the man replied and looked pointedly at Cooper, “because you may look like Kirill, but you're most certainly not him. But since I heard rumours of him working here, and you looking like him, the question arises why you are *impersonating* him.”
Cooper frowned. There was something about the man that made him relax, even though he was well aware of how dangerous he must be. And he had obviously known Kirill, known him so well that he could tell them apart. But he hadn't been mentioned in Kirill's file, all his connections had been come with a picture, but the man's face had not been among them. So who was this man who was unknown even to the CIA?
“What makes you think *we* are the ones replying to *your* questions?” he asked and held his gaze fixed on the man.
“Because you want to know who I am and how I know Kirill, since he's your alias and it can't be very comforting to know there are people who can blow your cover.” The man relaxed even further, snapped the safety on and put his gun away. When he looked up, his gaze held a note Cooper couldn't define. “And since you are not Kirill, my business is not with you.”
“Well then.” Frank said and relaxed his stance without actually lowering his gun. “Let's play a game. You answer a question, then we answer one. To show your good will, you could start with telling us who you are.”
The man stood still and his gaze scanned Frank, then it wandered over to Cooper and lingered on him for while. He seemed to assess them. “I take it you are CIA. You show every sign of it.”
Neither Frank nor Cooper reacted to the statement, but then, Frank wasn't an agent any more and Cooper was not here on an official mission, so they were not even lying by not saying yes. The man kept his gaze on Cooper, he seemed to be unable to look away for a longer period of time. “My name is Jason Bourne.”
Cooper couldn't help his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “You're kidding me.”
“The age fits, so does the description.” Frank provided next to him. Cooper didn't even want to know how Frank knew that, because the whole Bourne affair had gone down years *after* Frank's official retirement. Henry, he guessed and sighed inwardly.
The man – Bourne – watched them with something between amusement and confusion. “You seem to know more about me that I do. I was right about the CIA then.”
Frank shrugged and lowered his gun. “Partly.”
Cooper followed his example, even though he kept the weapon ready. He had heard enough about Jason Bourne to know he was extremely dangerous. He had never had access to the man's files, but Henry didn't only talk to Frank. And Bourne was a legend among the agents, nearly as much as Frank or Victoria. And he had gained that status at about half their age.
“It's your turn to answer a question.” Bourne said and casually leaned against the counter. “Who are you?”
Frank put his gun away and gave Bourne a long look. Whatever test Frank had set for him, he seemed to pass. “Frank Moses.”
Bourne's eyes showed that the name meant something to him and he smirked. “I hadn't expected to ever meet a legend.”
Frank chuckled and somehow that broke the tension in the room. “I could return that.”
Cooper wondered what it was about the man that made them trust him with their real names. Maybe it was this aura of earnesty that seemed to cling to him like a shadow. Whatever it was, Cooper trusted Frank's judgement, especially since it accorded with his own. “William Cooper.”
“I've heard of you, too.” Bourne replied. “The Vice President affair.”
Cooper wondered how the man had gotten hold of the files, because the real case had never made it to the press. Obviously, since Cooper had done everything to make sure of that. But then, if he had learned one thing from all the rumours, it was that Bourne was good at what he was doing, so good that the CIA wasn't able to find him, even less to get hold of him. He was a master in hiding, which meant he was a master in finding what he was looking for as well. Cooper wouldn't even ask how Bourne had found *them*, it would be pointless. But there were other things he wanted to know.
“How do you know Kirill?”
“We have... history.” Bourne said carefully. “He was set on me when some influential people thought that I knew too much.” He snorted. “Which is ironic in itself. Long story short, he killed somebody thinking it was me and we ended up in a rather fanatical game of tag.”
“Why did you come here, then?” Cooper asked with a raised eyebrow. “Revenge?”
“No.” Bourne's voice was clipped. “We were long past revenge.”
“What then?” Cooper pushed. Bourne's gaze wandered from Cooper to Frank and back. It made Cooper's skin prickle unpleasantly, as if the man could see right through him.
“We were like you.” Bourne just replied and his gaze told Cooper that he knew about his and Frank's real relationship. He had no idea how, but Bourne knew. Well, that certainly explained how Bourne had been able to tell that Cooper wasn't Kirill. “Then he disappeared about a year ago.”
“You thought you had a lead on him.” Frank said slowly, understanding in his eyes.
“Well, I was obviously wrong.” Bourne's voice sounded angry, resigned and sad at the same time and Cooper wondered how it was possible to put so much emotion in so few words. “It was only you using him as an alias. Although I have to admit that Cooper fits his appearance really well. Which leads me to the question I already asked: Why are you impersonating Kirill?”
Cooper figured they owed Bourne a few answers for his honesty. Because even though he had no idea how he knew, he was certain that every word the man had said was the truth. Call it instinct. And his instincts had served Cooper very well over the years, so he had taken to listen to them.
“My contract was to give Mendez to the local police.” Frank explained and from the way he left out all further detail, it was obvious that he knew Bourne had the background information necessary to understand what he was talking about. “I took the role of Merov and ended up under rather strict supervision. The persona of Kirill was my leverage and Will was the perfect person for the job, as you can doubtlessly see yourself.”
Cooper noted how Frank left out the involvement of the other members of the Gang and decided to go with it. Since most of their group were either hurt or otherwise incapacitated, there was no use in bringing them into this. Bourne watched Frank, then his gaze wandered over the black lines on Cooper's left shoulder.
“And the tattoo?”
“Unusual means of communication.” Cooper said with a heavy sigh before he glared at Frank. “Don't ask.”
Frank smirked and didn't even bother to hide it and Cooper was sure he saw an equally amused expression on Bourne's face. “I understand.”
“The sun is about to rise.” Frank remarked and Cooper was sure he was just trying to change the subject. Well, Bourne couldn't have missed the hickey on Cooper's shoulder, right over the mole that had marked Mendez' villa, and Cooper was glad he hadn't made a comment. Frank casually walked over to the counter and busied himself with cups and plates. “I want a coffee and breakfast. Anybody else?”
Before they could answer, Frank was already preparing enough coffee for at least six people. But then, Frank knew Cooper tended to drink a lot of it in the morning, especially when he hadn't slept during the night. Only some minutes later, Frank handed Bourne and Cooper steaming mugs and took a deep gulp out of his own.
“You go outside drink your coffee and let me make breakfast.” Frank declared determinedly and sent them out onto the porch. Cooper knew Frank had noticed how Bourne's gaze had wandered to Cooper again and again, a sad kind of gaze, one that spoke of how the resemblance of Cooper and Kirill made him remember what he had lost. Frank wanted to give them the opportunity to talk, and Cooper appreciated the gesture. The whole night had been weird, this might help to clear thing up a little.
“Your resemblance is really astonishing.” Bourne said with a sad little smile, giving Cooper a quick glance when they sat down on the steps to the porch. “But now I see the differences so clearly that I wonder how I could take you for him in the first place.”
Cooper looked at the face that seemed far to boyish and young to carry a soul of such sadness. Cooper knew his own career hadn't exactly been innocent, but compared to what Jason Bourne had lived through, he felt like a child.
“I guess it was a typical case of desperate wishful thinking.” Bourne went on quietly, then he chuckled, but it sounded resigned rather than amused. His fingers absent-mindedly stroked over the hot coffee cup in a slow motion. “You know what they say: Hope dies last.”
“You won't stop looking for him, will you?” Cooper asked, even though he already knew the answer. He knew *he* would never stop looking if it had been Frank who'd disappeared.
“I only wanted to live in peace, you know? Away from all this.” Bourne made a vague gesture with his hand. “And I did, for about two years. It ended the moment Kirill disappeared.”
“And you need to find him if you ever want to live in peace again.” Cooper concluded, understanding.
“I need to know what happened to him.” Bourne said quietly and it sounded like he was correcting Cooper. “If he is dead, then I need to know. Everything is better than not knowing.”
Cooper nodded slowly. He had been in that situation, too. “I hope you find him alive, though.”
Bourne was quiet for a long time, gaze lost in the distance. “Yeah, me too.”
They fell silent, sipping their coffee in the fresh, untouched quiet of the early morning. Cooper couldn't say why it was so easy for him to bond with this stranger, this man he'd only met some hours ago when he'd been pointing a gun at Cooper's chest. Yet there was the wish to help Bourne who seemed lost in this world, lost in a way that Cooper couldn't even begin to understand, and he assumed that Frank felt the same. What he comprehended on every level, though, was what it meant to lose somebody and not to know what had happened to them. Cooper hadn't ever met Kirill, but there had to be something special about the man if he had gained Bourne's affection and loyalty even after the history they shared. And if Cooper understood one thing, than that life sometimes took the most unexpected turns at the most unexpected moment.
“You are very lucky.” Bourne suddenly remarked in this quiet voice of his and nodded towards Frank, who was just making eggs and bacon in the frying pan, feet bare and his jeans riding low without a belt.
Cooper followed his gaze and felt a sincere smile tug at his lips. “I know.”
*** The End
