A/N: This will be first time writing fiction in nearly seven years. C&C will be gladly welcome in order to help me improve my writing style. This has been partially inspired by thewanderer's Bourne again story, which can be found on fanfiction.net and tthfanfiction.
Disclaimer: I could draft a thirteen page statement about how I don't own this stuff, but I'll simply state that I have no ownership of the intellectual property involved here and judging by my financial aid debt, if sued your legal fees will outweigh any benefits you may incur.
Somewhere in Nevada
"Who do we have in this cell?"
"Mr. Alexander L. Harris"
"Looking at his chart it says he's completely human. What did he do to end up here at this facility? I was under the impression that only those that exhibited…unnatural characteristics were to be detained here."
"Ah, but his humanity is exactly why we brought him here. Before that bitch Walsh kicked us out of Sunnydale with that damn Project Lavender of hers, we had quite the surveillance in place to monitor all of the supernatural activity that occurred in that damn place. Thank god she couldn't get access to our files."
"So what? Did he get exposed to some mystical crap that gives him the ability light fires with the power of his mind?"
"Hah, judging by his academic record we'd be lucky if he could start a fire on a dry log saturated with accelerants. No, this young man's only power is to do whatever it takes to accomplish the mission. We actually have surveillance video of him breaking into the National Guard Armory outside Sunnydale to steal a LAW launcher. Furthermore, we have records of an acquaintance of his purchasing the necessary materials for that big boom that took out the High School in Sunnydale last month. Traces of those compounds were found on his skin in high enough doses that indicate Mr. Harris here was the one who prepared those explosives."
"So why him alone and not the acquaintance who bought the ingredients for that party?"
"Unfortunately Mr. Giles has diplomatic immunity with the British government. Young Alexander here doesn't have that and believes that he is being held as an accessory for these crimes. So we are left with a young, idealistic man who is not afraid to break laws in order to complete as what he sees as being the mission."
"Huh, so he fits into Dr. Hirsch's profile to a T. Alright, I'll sign the paperwork to transfer him to our New York facility."
"Do you want us to wipe his mind prior to transfer?"
"No, Dr. Hirsch has concerns that by removing his memory magically we may lose something vital to his character. He's assured me that we can remake him using traditional methods."
"Very well. It's always a pleasure to see you Mr. Ward. Send the good doctor my regards."
August 23, 1999
It was with trepidation that Buffy Summer approached the apartment of Rupert Giles. When he had called her fifteen minutes prior there was an odd pitch to his voice, as if he was consciously suppressing information that he knew wouldn't be pleasant. Last time he did that, it was to initiate the most awkward conversation in her life as he attempted to justify what he did with her mother under the influence of the band candy and that he would accept the responsibilities for any consequences. She shuddered and prayed that she wasn't about to discover a new sibling or even more icky, a new step-father.
Steeling herself, Buffy rapped briskly on the front door. She only had to wait a few moments to wait for a somber faced Giles to open it and stand aside to allow her in sans-invitation. Her eyes widened momentarily as she saw a nervous looking Willow and a stoic Oz already sitting down. She gave a quick wave before taking a seat in the papasan next to a bookshelf full of reading material that had been evacuated from the high school before it became snake bait.
"What's the what Giles of mine? And what's with your face? Please do not tell me that the summer lull has come to an abrupt and tragic end," Buffy stated as she made herself comfortable. "I have to move into my dorm next week for orientation, so I'm not sure if I have time..."
Seeing the glare Giles was sending in her direction, Buffy decided to shut up.
"Now that we're all here, I'm afraid I have some terrible news to share," Giles began as the three youngsters tensed up. "I received a phone call from Michael Ortega about an hour ago."
Buffy sat in confusion for a second until she heard Willow gasp. The name then clicked. Michael Ortega was the attorney they had all filed wills with in case something happened during the Mayor's ascension.
"What happened? Where's Xander? Or is it Cordelia?" Willow asked with a shaky voice as her face grew pale.
"I'm afraid that Xander has been missing, and declared presumed dead as of today." Giles said softly.
With a painful cry, Willow broke out into tears and leaned into Oz who simply wrapped his arms around her. Buffy stared blankly as if her brain had hit a blue screen.
"Dead? Are we sure he's dead?" Oz asked with a steady voice.
"We're not sure at all," Giles answered as he tiredly put his hand up to his face. "The fact is, his car and possessions were found abandoned in Oxnard. Apparently his parents were fully aware that he has been missing since mid-June and found it unnecessary to inform us. If it wasn't for the fact that Mr. Ortega's office was contacted, I highly doubt we would even know."
"Wait," Buffy said as her vision began to blur. "How has he been missing for over two months without a single word in the media or the police-people contacting us? Xander is last I checked a human and when humans vanish I'm pretty sure that people take notice, at least outside of Sunnydale," Buffy asked hopefully.
"The only plausible theory I can conjure is that there was a supernatural element involved in his disappearance," Giles answered with an anguished expression. "If that is the case, we can only hope that he is merely dead and that it was brief."
At this Willow pulled free from Oz before surging to Buffy to engulf her in a hug. The sounds of mourning were heard in the residence for the remainder of the night.
May 14, 2002
To Willow the past six years had given her an all too intimate exposure to the graveyards of Sunnydale. Sunnydale Memorial was by far the worst for her. Now, not only did Xander Harris's grave rest there, but buried in a nearby plot was Tara McClay and Joyce Summers. Pale and red-eyed she sat next to Xander's tombstone munching on a twinkie.
"…and I came far too close to completely losing it. I mean, you're dead, Joyce is dead and now…Tara is dead too." Willow paused to nibble at the twinkie. "If it wasn't for the fact that Buffy and Dawn only really have me left and are dependent on me, I think I may have snapped. Oh and I suppose Rachel helped as well. The only and I mean only positive mister, of your most untimely demise, is that Giles arranged from a member of the Devon Coven to come out and tutor me after I went a little crazy trying to find ways to resurrect you. So anyways, I'm now living at…"
Willow remained at his grave for nearly forty more minutes, until she noticed the sun beginning to the fall. With a brief peck to his tombstone she stood up. "I miss you."
New York City, New York
August 3, 2005
Clenching his teeth as tightly as he could, Jason Bourne pulled himself into a standing position as he climbed onto the bank of the Hudson River. He stumbled slowly forward, as he shrugged his jacket off. Wadding it into a ball, he pressed it tightly against his side to stem the flow of blood from the gunshot wound that had just been inflicted upon him.
Bourne winced as he applied pressure to the shredded muscle. Scanning the riverbank to ensure that no one saw him emerging from the river, he construed a plan of action. First, he needed to find some dry clothes. Second, he needed antibiotics. Swimming in the Hudson with an open wound was as good as injecting himself with a deadly toxin. With all the pollutants and pathogens festering in that water it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to illness.
He had to survive though. While he only clearly remembered his life after participating in Operation Treadstone, odd flashes were flitting across his memory. A blonde and a red head teased at the edges of his mind. He had come too far and done too much to simply die now that he had a real chance to reclaim his past life.
With another quick glance to verify that there were no witnesses Jason began to shuffle away from the river only to find a short iron fence impeding his path. Beyond it was a graveyard, dimly lit. Roughly half a mile straight ahead there looked to be a populated area he could find medical care at. Placing his hands on the fence, he braced himself and lifted himself over. Black spots flickered over his vision at the pressure he put upon his wounded side.
Girding himself, Bourne began his trek though the graveyard. It wasn't until he was roughly 100 meters in that he noticed that something was wrong. The graveyard was dead quiet. There was no scurrying of small critters or the chirps of birds. Glancing back and forth wearily he continued walking forward.
A flicker to his right instantly set him on his guard. Something human shaped was around him. Was it another asset? Whatever it was it was fast and quiet. Worse, he was completely unarmed. In no condition for a fight, his only choice was to push forward.
"Whatcha doing in a place like this stud?" asked a female voice behind him.
Startled Bourne pivoted around. And blinked. Before him was definitely not an asset. Before him stood a woman wearing a red halter top and leather pants plastered on to her. Armed with…a piece of wood?
Suddenly she snapped his fingers at him and glared at him impatiently. "Yo! Are your lights on? Why is your dumb bleeding buns of steel out here rights now?"
Jason stayed silent for a few more moments to gather his thoughts. He really did not need some good Samaritan hooker to get involved, but saw no way of not addressing his injury. "I'm heading out to find myself some medicine and dry clothes."
The women pursed her lips at this statement and focused her attention to the wound on his side. It made him more than a little nervous as he could tell she was expertly viewing the wound on his side. "So gunshot wound huh? Well then, want me to dump your ass off at a hospital or would you like some…private
ministrations from such a humble soul as me?"
Was she flirting with him? Jason simply stared at her blankly once more. She did not fit into a single profile that would be used by any government agency. Looking again at the wooden…stake, he also knew of no government agency that would arm their assets with a weapon like that. Now the only question was whether he should trust himself to receive medical care from a brunette who strolled around graveyards in the middle of the night with a stake. "I prefer private care."
"Not much for words, are ya? Well then, let's mosey on back to my hole. With the way you're bleeding you're likely to attract all types of unsavory sorts. What's your name average, tan and mysterious?"
"You can call me John." Jason stated after deciding on which alias to use. "And your name?"
"You can call me Faith."
Nova Iguacu, Brazil
August 4, 2005
It was shortly after one a.m. and Willow was cranky. She had to be up in less than four hours for morning meditation and now her phone was ringing. Even worse, she recognized the priority tone to the call, which meant that she was needed somewhere for something and it would be unlikely that she would be getting anymore sleep anytime soon. What good was it to move a different continent if you were still on call for the same people. Well, other than circumventing a couple statutory rape issues with Kennedy. At least she was on patrol now so the damn phone wouldn’t wake her up. After groping blindly around her nightstand she finally gripped the phone and hit the connect button.
"WILLLLLLLLOWWWW!" shrieked out over the phone.
"What? Do you realize what time it is here? And if this is who I think it is, isn't it five in the morning for you?" Willow grunted into the offending device.
"Turn on the TV! Turn on the TV! Turn on CNN international or BBC world!" Dawn shouted in a far too cheerful voice.
"Why?" Willow asked as she now began to grope blindly for her remote.
"Trust me trust me trust me trust me oh my god I am so happy." Dawn babbled in ecstasy.
"Alright alright, give me a moment." Willow replied. Finally, she found the remote on the floor beneath her and turned on the TV.
"Well at least I should be happy. I'm assuming he's still alive. I mean, he's already been declared dead so many times, now that I know who they're talking about and how did we ever not make the connection that I'm just assuming he's alive, " Dawn continued as Willow simply became more confused. Pausing momentarily to recall the proper channel, Willow switched on over to CNN International.
"…York. In what appeared to be a shoot out between unknown parties revolving around Jason Bourne, whose real name can now be stated as Alexander Lavelle Harris…"
Willow's mouth simply dropped open before turning into a smile.