For the second time in as many days, David feels the cold metal barrel of a gun pressed against his head. The first time, it was Will Graham holding the weapon. This time it's a much more threatening figure, and he finds himself wildly wishing that the cop was here now. Or Hoffman. Costigan. Someone.

He tries to speak, can't. His throat's tight. Oh, god no, not tears. He won't cry. Can't. Can't let himself fall apart. Can't give Bourne that pleasure.

"I'll... I'll kill you for this," he whispers harshly, his voice quivering.