A few months earlier, Bourne might have flinched at the sudden contact. Now he was able to accept it. As much as he abhorred the word, this exercise was...therapy. He accepted her hand.
"Was," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "He was a piece of shit. He thought I had a gun pointed at him when I confronted him in his hotel room; it was really a tape recorder. He unwittingly confessed all of it to me. When he saw it, he knew he was finished. I left him my gun. Later I heard he took the coward's way out."
And wouldn't the press have had a field day with that one.
"I took the train to Moscow to find the daughter of the people I killed. I'm good at finding people. The assassin who'd killed Marie was still under orders to kill me. I got him into a car wreck, intending to kill him myself. But by the time I got out of my car and over to his..." He shrugged, the motion of a man resigned to accepting what had happened. "I found the Neski girl. I told her the truth, apologized, and left her apartment, still bleeding from where the assassin had shot me." He shrugged again, but this time it was more of an 'Assassins...what're you gonna do, right?' thing than acceptance.
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timeasmymeasure
He can never heal. Never. :|
Date: 2011-01-04 06:18 am (UTC)"Was," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "He was a piece of shit. He thought I had a gun pointed at him when I confronted him in his hotel room; it was really a tape recorder. He unwittingly confessed all of it to me. When he saw it, he knew he was finished. I left him my gun. Later I heard he took the coward's way out."
And wouldn't the press have had a field day with that one.
"I took the train to Moscow to find the daughter of the people I killed. I'm good at finding people. The assassin who'd killed Marie was still under orders to kill me. I got him into a car wreck, intending to kill him myself. But by the time I got out of my car and over to his..." He shrugged, the motion of a man resigned to accepting what had happened. "I found the Neski girl. I told her the truth, apologized, and left her apartment, still bleeding from where the assassin had shot me." He shrugged again, but this time it was more of an 'Assassins...what're you gonna do, right?' thing than acceptance.
"I kept reading the papers. I picked up The Guardian. Imagine my surprise when I saw that one of their reporters was doing an exposé on my program. On me."