Bourne Identity fic: You Are Coming Down with Me
Title from the Mountain Goats song "No Children" which mostly really does not apply at all.
Many thanks to![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iulia for the action movie slumber party where we watched all three Bourne movies inside of about sixteen hours, for being enthusiastic about the idea, and as ever for betaing the results. This is what happens when I run face-first into a fandom I genuinely cannot plot kidfic for.
Jason/Marie, set between Bourne Identity and Bourne Supremacy. Not explicit. 1,000 words.
This was what civilians did, most of them, eventually.
You Are Coming Down with Me
Marie made a thoughtful little noise one night when they'd been in Goa for a couple of months, and picked up a little plastic compact off the table beside the bed. Jason had never given it a second thought, but he knew--why did he know? but he knew--exactly what it was.
"Only a week left," Marie said, waving it at him. "I got six months' worth at that clinic in South Africa, remember that? I guess I'll have to see about getting a refill here."
Jason nodded. He knew where to get condoms and knew they were reliable enough, but he hated leaving conveniently tied-up packages of DNA anywhere. If Marie stayed on the pill, that was simpler.
"I mean," Marie said, looking down, tilting the compact this way and that. "Unless I don't need to take them anymore, maybe."
For a moment Jason thought she was saying she didn't want to have sex with him ever again, that she was leaving him, that she was done. It was too expected to hurt, exactly, but it still stunned him. It was completely out of left field, now, getting ready for bed--and it made no strategic sense, of the kind that Marie had demonstrated a good native instinct for. She should do this in the morning or the middle of the day, when it was easy to walk away, not now....
Then she glanced up with a tiny, hopeful smile in her eyes, the same one he recognized from the three times he'd told her he remembered something other than killing people. It hit him harder when he knew what she meant, what she was thinking of--just because it had been nearly two years now, just because Goa seemed safe so far.
Marie was a civilian, for all he'd taught her. He hoped Marie would always be a civilian. But this was what civilians did, most of them, eventually. They thought about settling down. And even if settling down didn't mean one place, it mostly meant one person, and a lot of the time it meant kids. Marie thought she'd settled on him, and now she was thinking about going off the pill. She was thinking about kids.
Jason knew what he had to say, but he forced himself to consider it anyway, because it was Marie, because he loved her, because she was giving him that hopeful look. He thought of her with a big, pregnant belly, smiling proudly at the amazing thing her body could do. He thought of her trying to run in that condition. He thought of her holding a baby, her eyes full of uncomplicated love for someone perfect, someone who'd never been broken. He thought about how people could get broken, children worst of all. He thought of how that would break her.
And then Jason wasn't even thinking, he was seeing, vivid as a flashback but all turned around. He was sitting on the couch, late at night. He was half asleep, and the baby slept on his chest with his hands resting on her back, holding her steady. Then came the touch against the back of his head, the unmistakable cold shape of a gun barrel. He looked up into the expressionless eyes of the man who'd come to kill him and his hands tightened on his daughter, and....
That was the question, wasn't it? He knew that Wombosi had been strong enough to do the only safe thing for his daughter, for his other children. Wombosi had been strong enough to lift her up and set her aside, out of the direct line of fire, to sit quietly and plead only with his eyes for mercy for the children. It would be too dangerous to fight, though all of Jason's instincts would be telling him to save himself--he could maybe survive, if he were caught off-guard like that, but he couldn't be certain of where every stray shot would go.
The only way to protect a child in that situation was to keep any shots from being fired at all. Failing that--and when someone came for him in the night, it would mean that he had failed--the safest thing for the child would be to ensure that whoever had come for him only had to fire one shot to finish the job. It would mean trusting the sort of man who would come to kill him to leave his child unharmed after Jason was dead and unable to protect her, even if she might cry out and give him away, even if she was old enough to be a witness.
He knew he couldn't trust himself to set his child aside when he had to, because he hadn't been able to keep himself from finding Marie, either. She would have been safer if she'd never seen him again. Even now she would be safer away from him.
Especially now, when she was starting to think she was safe and his precautions were only lingering eccentricities. She was thinking of settling down, of having children, and still Jason couldn't move her out of the direct line of fire, couldn't open his hands and let her go and keep silent to keep her safe. Every single thing he did to make her more able to protect herself made her a bigger target for anyone who might come after her, and still Jason couldn't just look death in the eye and beg it to take him and spare her.
Jason wasn't that strong.
"Jason?" Marie spoke softly, nighttime-soft, breaking into his thoughts too gently to trigger his defenses. He'd always let his guard down around her, from the first. He'd always known it was dangerous to both of them for him to be near her. He'd always known that no matter what he told her she would never know it the way he did, and that meant he had responsibilities toward her. Marie was a civilian, and he had to protect her even from things she didn't believe were dangerous.
He looked up, and saw that her smile had faded. He turned up his lips in apology, and reached to take the compact from her hand, flipping it open to look at the foil-and-plastic packet and memorize the dosage information.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I know where to get more without a scrip, I'll go tomorrow."
Many thanks to
iulia for the action movie slumber party where we watched all three Bourne movies inside of about sixteen hours, for being enthusiastic about the idea, and as ever for betaing the results. This is what happens when I run face-first into a fandom I genuinely cannot plot kidfic for.Jason/Marie, set between Bourne Identity and Bourne Supremacy. Not explicit. 1,000 words.
This was what civilians did, most of them, eventually.
You Are Coming Down with Me
Marie made a thoughtful little noise one night when they'd been in Goa for a couple of months, and picked up a little plastic compact off the table beside the bed. Jason had never given it a second thought, but he knew--why did he know? but he knew--exactly what it was.
"Only a week left," Marie said, waving it at him. "I got six months' worth at that clinic in South Africa, remember that? I guess I'll have to see about getting a refill here."
Jason nodded. He knew where to get condoms and knew they were reliable enough, but he hated leaving conveniently tied-up packages of DNA anywhere. If Marie stayed on the pill, that was simpler.
"I mean," Marie said, looking down, tilting the compact this way and that. "Unless I don't need to take them anymore, maybe."
For a moment Jason thought she was saying she didn't want to have sex with him ever again, that she was leaving him, that she was done. It was too expected to hurt, exactly, but it still stunned him. It was completely out of left field, now, getting ready for bed--and it made no strategic sense, of the kind that Marie had demonstrated a good native instinct for. She should do this in the morning or the middle of the day, when it was easy to walk away, not now....
Then she glanced up with a tiny, hopeful smile in her eyes, the same one he recognized from the three times he'd told her he remembered something other than killing people. It hit him harder when he knew what she meant, what she was thinking of--just because it had been nearly two years now, just because Goa seemed safe so far.
Marie was a civilian, for all he'd taught her. He hoped Marie would always be a civilian. But this was what civilians did, most of them, eventually. They thought about settling down. And even if settling down didn't mean one place, it mostly meant one person, and a lot of the time it meant kids. Marie thought she'd settled on him, and now she was thinking about going off the pill. She was thinking about kids.
Jason knew what he had to say, but he forced himself to consider it anyway, because it was Marie, because he loved her, because she was giving him that hopeful look. He thought of her with a big, pregnant belly, smiling proudly at the amazing thing her body could do. He thought of her trying to run in that condition. He thought of her holding a baby, her eyes full of uncomplicated love for someone perfect, someone who'd never been broken. He thought about how people could get broken, children worst of all. He thought of how that would break her.
And then Jason wasn't even thinking, he was seeing, vivid as a flashback but all turned around. He was sitting on the couch, late at night. He was half asleep, and the baby slept on his chest with his hands resting on her back, holding her steady. Then came the touch against the back of his head, the unmistakable cold shape of a gun barrel. He looked up into the expressionless eyes of the man who'd come to kill him and his hands tightened on his daughter, and....
That was the question, wasn't it? He knew that Wombosi had been strong enough to do the only safe thing for his daughter, for his other children. Wombosi had been strong enough to lift her up and set her aside, out of the direct line of fire, to sit quietly and plead only with his eyes for mercy for the children. It would be too dangerous to fight, though all of Jason's instincts would be telling him to save himself--he could maybe survive, if he were caught off-guard like that, but he couldn't be certain of where every stray shot would go.
The only way to protect a child in that situation was to keep any shots from being fired at all. Failing that--and when someone came for him in the night, it would mean that he had failed--the safest thing for the child would be to ensure that whoever had come for him only had to fire one shot to finish the job. It would mean trusting the sort of man who would come to kill him to leave his child unharmed after Jason was dead and unable to protect her, even if she might cry out and give him away, even if she was old enough to be a witness.
He knew he couldn't trust himself to set his child aside when he had to, because he hadn't been able to keep himself from finding Marie, either. She would have been safer if she'd never seen him again. Even now she would be safer away from him.
Especially now, when she was starting to think she was safe and his precautions were only lingering eccentricities. She was thinking of settling down, of having children, and still Jason couldn't move her out of the direct line of fire, couldn't open his hands and let her go and keep silent to keep her safe. Every single thing he did to make her more able to protect herself made her a bigger target for anyone who might come after her, and still Jason couldn't just look death in the eye and beg it to take him and spare her.
Jason wasn't that strong.
"Jason?" Marie spoke softly, nighttime-soft, breaking into his thoughts too gently to trigger his defenses. He'd always let his guard down around her, from the first. He'd always known it was dangerous to both of them for him to be near her. He'd always known that no matter what he told her she would never know it the way he did, and that meant he had responsibilities toward her. Marie was a civilian, and he had to protect her even from things she didn't believe were dangerous.
He looked up, and saw that her smile had faded. He turned up his lips in apology, and reached to take the compact from her hand, flipping it open to look at the foil-and-plastic packet and memorize the dosage information.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I know where to get more without a scrip, I'll go tomorrow."
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And thank you, I'm glad you liked this!
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