Prompt: Kidnapped / Ransom

Title: Seeking Answers

Fandom: The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) - Starring Matt Damon

Warnings: Mentions of violence, drug induced fatigue, disorientation.

Word Count: 3,605

Author's Note: This is sorta meh. It was fun to write, but took me awhile and sorta bounced all over the place because of how intermittent I wrote it... dang work and school eating up my time...

Synopsis: When Y/N finds herself taken hostage and held as a ransom by an unknown organization simply to get to the one man she's spent her last three years alongside, what will happen? Will answers to her questions be found? Will he finally find answers about his haunting past?

----

Seeking Answers

A steady throbbing resonates with your senses, gradually coming back to you.

Your head is pounding, your muscles are all screaming in protest.

Your memory is foggy... in fact, you have no idea where the hell you even are.

A cough rattles through your entire body, making your lungs almost burn in response.

The hell?

Your vision is finally returning to you as you blink back against the grit filling them that you raise your hands in an attempt to rub away...

Only to quickly realize they aren't moving.

Harsh, prickly ropes accompanied by the icy steel of what are likely handcuffs, bite against your wrists as your panic begins to mount, your efforts to free yourself from these sudden binds becoming more and more desperate as you ultimately collapse, breathing labored and shaky, your energy spent entirely.

"I wouldn't bother trying to free yourself. They tied you quite well."

A wheezy, raspy attempt of a sigh of alarm is pulled from your dry, chapped lips as your eyelids finally pry themselves open, your anxious feelings rising once more.

An older man, dressed in a black suit, is sitting in front of you, a rather barren table sitting idle between you both.

Whitewashed walls surround you every which way, a certain stench of... cleanliness... sending a shiver of unease dancing down your spine.

"Where the hell am I? Who are you?" You demand, voice raspy and cracking as you attempt to shift against the cold steel of the seat you're bound to, hands behind your back, unable to move at all.

The man across the table from you just laughs in reply, the sound echoing obnoxiously loud back to your muddled hearing against the empty, bleached walls.

"I should have known he would've found such a feisty one," He chuckles, leaning forward in his seat with ease, grinning knowingly. "Even through his scattered and fragmented memories of who he once was... and who he still is."

Dread instantly floods your system as realization settles in, your heart rate quickening involuntarily.

This man knows exactly who you are.

Who he is.

"You're Treadstone."

Your voice is merely a murmur filled with fear and distaste, your gaze darting towards the pale, tiled floor, unable to hold your captor's eyes glistening with a certain malice and mischief.

You've witnessed far too many of your Partner's episodes, heard the horrific details of each and every tiny piece of his past life.

And this man - right in front of you...

Is the one to blame for the torment of Jason Bourne.

"Formerly I was on the Treadstone project, yes. But it was merely the beginning."

There are more.

"To answer your question, however, Ms. L/N, is it?" The man continues, pausing, prompting you to look him in the eye, yet again.

Instead, you nod mutely, fighting back against the surge of emotions bubbling in your throat.

"I am Dr. Albert Hirsch and you are currently being held at a location that I unfortunately cannot disclose to you at this time."

"Because I'm being held ransom?" You mutter bitterly, praying your wavering tone doesn't fall through the façade you're so desperately trying to hold together.

The Doctor leans forward once more, the slightest piece of a sickening grin tugging at the edges of his lips catching your eye, as well as the plain brown file folder he slides across the tabletop, the sound of paper against cold steel piercing the quiet.

"You certainly catch on quickly. It's a shame I won't have more time with you."

Mustering up the last scrap of courage you have left, you press back against your binds and pull yourself straighter in your seat, finally staring down your crazed captor, your vision swimming, a certain nausea rising in your throat.

"And why would that be?"

Yet another low chuckle meets your ears as he wordlessly opens the folder, an all too familiar image the only thing on the blank page.

"Because you, my dear, are merely bait. Bait to bring our wandering boy back home... where he belongs."

Disgust ripples through you at your captor's words, a new sound gaining your attention.

Footsteps. At least two sets.

Approaching far too quickly for your liking.

And before you can even comprehend what or who steps into the whitewashed room you're sitting in, figures clad all in black are surrounding you, tossing a bag over your head with almost practiced ease, rough hands hauling you to your feet.

Though you stand there for a moment, blind and dazed... waiting for whatever is about to happen next, it's almost as if whoever is grasping your bicep in a death grip hesitates, the silence in the air so thick, all you can hear is your heavy, labored breathing echoing back at you.

"No time to waste," The Doctor's voice is practically a whisper as your head begins to spin, the events of the last few minutes becoming too much to bear. "I've got a phone call to make."

And yet again, you're shoved forward roughly, stumbling over your own two feet before your captors steady you, though a certain sharp prick of pain resonates in your neck, a cry of alarm and agony being pulled from your lips and falling on deaf ears.

"What was that?!" You scream in protest, thrashing about futilely, the darkly clad figure's grip on you effectively keeping you in place. "You have no business holding me here! It's against every convention and law known to man! I-"

Your sentence falls short as your head begins to swim even worse than before, a sudden, rushing fatigue plaguing your body, your muscles, even bound, becoming limp and unresponsive.

"Easy does it... You'll be okay. We've just got to make sure you don't pose a threat to yourself or anyone else, is all."

Hirsch's feigned tone of compassion follows you down as you feel the hands of unconsciousness begin to claw at your mind, making quick work of taking it over.

Your breathing is becoming faster now, your heart rate surely off the charts...

And with one final labored breath, you fall limp into the greedy hands of darkness, drifting heavily, completely unaware of all that's soon to be at stake.

****

"You know it's not safe - being here with me. They will catch up with us sooner or later."

"I know."

"So why do you stay?"

You awake with a jolt, senses flooding back to you far quicker than before.

Your breathing erratic, heart racing...

Your surroundings are different this time, much smaller than the last room you had awoken to find yourself in.

Instead, this room almost appears to be a cell of sorts, your body trembling against the slight comfort the incredibly thin mattress provides you.

A heavy looking metal door is the only differently colored piece, though its metallic sheen certainly does not divert from the dull color scheme.

Silently, you will your heightened senses to calm down, examining your hands beneath a blurry, scrutinizing gaze.

Whatever they hit me with - it must slow to leave.

Careful not to move too quickly for your still frazzled consciousness, you take your time swinging your feet over the side of the dull, cold cot, the soles of your boots hitting the floor with a soft thud.

"They took me to get to Jason," You breathe aloud in disbelief, the gravity of the situation once again weighing heavy, your voice cracking. "They took me to get to Jason..."

A trembling heavy sigh is pulled from your lips as your face falls into your hands, a certain swell of anguish crashing over you like a tidal wave.

And knowing him, he'll already be on his way to wherever the hell this is...

Intrigue sparks as that thought crosses your mind, the beginnings of a soft surge of hope quenching the anguish for a moment.

"They'll be one step behind. He'll have the advantage."

And almost as if on cue, the sudden, though distant, sound of gunfire reaches your ears.

You're quick to stumble to your feet, your knees almost instantly giving out as you fall against the cool metal of the door, gripping the bars of the small hole at the top with white knuckles, peering into the dimly lit hallway.

Numerous darkly clad figures are darting every which way to your left, the odd speck of white hurrying away in a panic a tell-tale sign that whatever is going on is far too violent for any nurses or doctors to try and jump in on.

The presence of such personnel earns a ripple of surprise through your aching figure, straining to stay high enough so you can see out into the hallway, especially considering Hirsch had said the Treadstone project had long been abandoned...

The fight is getting closer to you now, the cries of agony and shouts of pain becoming far more vivid than before.

And amongst the far fewer figures, a comfortingly familiar one catches your eye.

Jason.

Relief floods your system as you allow your fingers to go slack against the steel, falling back towards the cot in a haze.

But you don't let the comfort engulf you.

This is just the beginning. We still have to make it out of here in one piece.

"I told you I'd bring this fight to your doorstep! Did you think that was just an empty threat?!"

The heavy thud of someone being sent flying against the wall on the opposite side of the door makes you wince, a sickening feeling swelling at the mere thought of the scene you could be stepping into any moment now.

Everything goes silent.

No more shouting, no more fighting.

Instead, the clatter of keys against a lock pricks your attention, your gaze that had been focused on the whitewashed tile jumping towards the door.

The door pierces the quiet as it swings open with a squeak, another trembling sigh escaping you.

"Jason," Is all you can manage to whisper as he steps into the cell, a relieved yet haunted look adoring his features, gaze sweeping the small room before flicking down to you.

Cuts litter his face, a particularly bloody gash dripping down his forehead, though he seems unbothered, his blue gaze holding yours seeming to be trying to determine your current state.

A state which you yourself can't even determine.

Your mind is beyond foggy, your body shaking regardless of what you will it to do otherwise...

"What did they do to you?" Is all he mutters lowly as he nears you, hooking an arm under yours and hauling you to your feet, his gaze diverting from yours only for a moment before returning, concern glistening honestly.

"Drugged me with something," You practically chuckle, blinking a few times as your Partner's features go blurry for a moment. "It was worse before, but it's wearing off now."

An unintelligible shout echoes down the hallway, instantly gaining your attention and Jason's as he darts towards the door, risking a glance before returning to you, steadying yourself against the wall, desperately attempting to tackle your rising heart rate to a manageable level.

"We've got to get moving, Y/N. The entirety of the CIA will be on us any minute now."

The CIA? So that's who that lunatic Doctor must work for.

"Okay," You manage to wheeze, using a trembling hand to push yourself from the wall, wavering for a moment before finding some sort of loose balance.

The man in front of you seems to ponder something for a moment, though he says nothing of it, instead, stepping out into the hallway, urging you to follow.

And so, you do, tripping over your own two feet for a second before following after him, steeling yourself for the image that awaits you once you pass through the door.

Dead, or maybe just unconscious bodies litter either side of the hallway to your left, the sound of distantly urgent footsteps growing closer and closer with each passing second.

"Are they-"

"Let's go."

Before you can even react or protest against it, Jason gently, but forcefully, grabs you by the arm and pulls you into his side, your mind reeling at the suddenness of his actions, your legs scrambling to keep up with his longer strides.

Your synced footsteps echo as he guides the pair of you through the seemingly never ending maze of bleak, sterilized hallways, the shouting at your backs still continuing to grow closer.

How do we outrun these guys like this?

Your answer is quickly given as you come to a halt outside yet another steel door, clearly marked with the word and the symbol for stairs.

"Three flights up, there'll be a fire escape to our right. We take it and blend in with traffic."

"Traffic?" You muse aloud, bewildered. "Where the hell are we, Jason?"

At this, he just huffs a chuckle, gaze yet again meeting yours.

"New York."

All you can do is nod as you wordlessly process what you'd just heard, not trusting your voice to say much else.

And with a shared final nod of confirmation, the climb up the concrete stairwell begins, synced steps once more echoing back at your gradually normalizing senses.

The footfalls that had once been distant are growing louder now, the distinct thud of the metal door being tossed open below where you and your Partner stand causing you to jump in alarm, shrinking into his side.

"They're headed to the streets!" Someone shouts, their voice carrying an urgently warning edge to it as a flurry of gunfire erupts from beneath you, the bullets whizzing past you.

A cry of alarm is pulled from your lips as Jason presses the both of you back against the cold cement wall, a handgun you hadn't noticed before being pulled from his waistband, swiftly being loaded.

"This could get ugly pretty fast," He warns as you step forward instinctively, the sudden silence a false security urging you to continue forward.

Only to be met with a firm grip on your shoulder, shoving you back against the wall, a warning glance being sent your way as one final barrage echoes in the empty stairwell.

"Thanks," You breathe, the silence genuine this time as the soft sound of someone reloading meets your ears.

Stepping forward and sweeping above and below with his pistol as if he's done it a thousand times before, Jason wordlessly urges you on.

And to your surprise, your balance is coming back to you - your strides no longer faltering.

"We've got to make our move - now," He states plainly, gesturing to the black three painted boldly on the side of the whitewashed concrete wall. "If we can get out before they even make it past here, we'll be in the clear."

"Right. Okay..."

Summing up whatever scrap of courage and energy you have left, you find yourself practically sprinting up the last few steps, easily keeping in pace with the man at your side.

Not even the fire escape doors slow either of you down as you both shoulder the double doors open, stepping out into the dark, rainy and noisy New York City night.

"Geez," You hear yourself murmur aloud in surprise, the headlights from passing traffic making you wince, your head resuming its dizzy disoriented state, your hands raising in a vain attempt to shield your eyes.

The man you'd been easily keeping pace with seems to notice your sudden slow in strides and quickly comes to a halt, at your side in an instant, stiff concern evident in his movements.

"What's going on? Are you hurt? Talk to me, Y/N."

His comforting tone is beginning to fade in and out of your senses, your eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to snap yourself out of whatever is going on with your mind, only to quickly fail.

The lights, the noises, the cold nipping at your skin through the thin jacket you wear...

It's all becoming too much.

Exhaling shakily, you allow your gaze to meet Jason's, conveying without words everything you're feeling.

"Okay," He breathes heavily, gaze surveying your surroundings before once more refocusing on you. "Okay. I'll find us somewhere far enough away from here where we can get out of this weather and get some rest. Can you walk?"

"I'll make do," You mutter softly, stumbling forwards towards your Partner's broader figure, his reflexes making quick work of catching you with outstretched arms. "I just need to sleep. I'll be fine by morning."

At this, a hum of something you can't quite make out, sounds from above you, the vague feeling of something heavier being set upon your shoulders.

"Come on," He urges softly, offering a slight reassuring smile down at you. "We'll find somewhere to lay low awhile again, I promise."

"I promise."

That's one thing you've heard quite a bit from the man known to you as Jason Bourne over the last few years spent alongside him.

And every single time, he's stayed true to his word.

Leaning into his side for support and tugging his jacket tighter around your shoulders, the pair of you continue to stumble through the busy streets in the city that never sleeps, heads lowered against the relentless rain.

And he won't break his word this time. We'll be fine.

****

It had taken quite some time and quite a few detours, but by some miracle, Jason had guided you both to a rather rundown looking motel in one of the less... colorful... sections of the city.

A motel which thankfully had some vacancy on whatever gloomy evening this just so happened to be.

The sound of running water from the bathroom is practically lulling you to sleep, accompanied by the non-stop rain on the window above where you lie, head resting against surprisingly plush pillows.

Everything that had occurred over the past few hours still has your mind in a tizzy - you can still barely comprehend that, to start, you'd been taken hostage by the Central Intelligence agency themselves and used as bait for one of their former operatives.

What a cruel world we live in... One where once you're in, no matter if you choose to leave... you can never truly rid yourself of the past...

Your heart aches at that thought.

Everything you've observed of Jason Bourne since the moment you met him all that time ago... He's been nothing but a gentleman to you, and equally as kind to mere strangers.

And even when you both had your quarrels from time to time... if an outsider was looking in, they would have no idea that the man you'd have been in a heated argument with could kill somebody with literally anything in any room at any given moment.

That thought sends a shiver dancing down your spine, but you quickly dismiss it.

It's all muscle memory for him... it's just a piece of who he is.

Though if you're being honest with yourself, you can't quite complain.

Having a man at your side that you know right well will do everything in his power to ensure your safety is a welcome comfort - one that not many women get to have these days.

Sighing heavily with a yawn, you roll onto your side, glancing at the small digital clock on the nightstand, its lights blinking back at you in a beady red.

3:32 AM.

Genuine fatigue is creeping its way into your mind as time stretches on, the sound of your Partner finally finishing his shower pricking your attention.

With the squeaking of floorboards and a momentary bright light, the next thing you know, he's at your side, the mattress dipping slightly at the added weight.

"Try and get some rest," Jason murmurs, instinctively planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, which you lean into, relishing the gentle moment after all of the chaos over the past few hours.

However, you don't shift away from his side quite yet.

Instead, you scoot closer, his arms finding themselves comfortably around your waist and torso.

"Do you remember now? Did it come back?"

Your voice is gentle, your tone quiet.

Everything had been pointing back to the very Agency where it all began... Maybe today's events finally put all the pieces back... Maybe he finally got some answers about who he was before all of this.

"Yeah," Comes the reply, sounding broken - small. "It came back."

His words hang in the silence for a moment before he pulls you closer, exhaling shakily.

"We'll work through it, Jason," You assure softly, glancing up at him through the dim darkness. "One day at a time, okay?"

A simple "okay" meets your senses as you pull the blanket tighter around you both, settling back against the rather cheap feeling mattress.

But at the moment, you're not complaining.

You're out of the rain and safe for tonight. Right now, tomorrow doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're here with-

"David," The man holding you suddenly muses aloud, the name sounding slightly foreign to your ears as confusion settles in your sleepy thoughts.

"What?"

"David. That's my name. David Webb."

Your heart skips a beat upon hearing his explanation, a genuine though sleepy smile being passed his way.

Wordlessly, you allow yourself to settle back down once more, feeling your Partner do the same, his muscles finally relaxing as his breathing falls in sync with yours...

And soon enough, you're floating on the gentle hands of sleep, knowing that for the man at your side, his days of haunted memories of the past are over.

But... the future still looms on the horizon.