Reviews! (Yes, I know, only two. . .I mean, three days since the last update, but I'm about two chapters ahead in writing)
Iolana (for chapter three): Aww, how could you tell I had fun writing that chapter? (cackles evilly) Honestly, I love writing M. She's such fun to write. Judi Dench is fantastic. . .I was watching 'Tomorrow Never Dies' the other day, and her exchange with Moneypenny at the beginning had me laughing hysterically ('Don't ask.' 'Don't tell.'). At this point, Bond really doesn't know much about. . .any of this. In a flashback sequence, which answers your question about who knows what, we find out that M agreed to let Rowanne and Alec tell Bond the truth, since William thought it would be more powerful coming from them. As for Alec remembering William. . .this chapter will answer that question, though I can promise a very powerful reunion. Orlov won't be a problem for several chapters, because right now, the pressing problem is the dynamic between Alec and James. They have to move past, or they won't be able to take down Custos and Orlov. Answers about Cassandra, Sabrina's mother, is coming in the chapter I'm working on right now. There will be more details about Janus and his reactions to Rowanne in this chapter. One thing that is taking shape is, Alec sees Janus as someone totally separate from himself. That may be necessary to his sanity. (snickers) I was laughing hysterically myself when I wrote the water pistol scene. In my universe, at least, Alec has never met M before. Since she dealt with numbers and statistics, I didn't think she ever met the agents before. Yes, he does have large pieces of his memory missing. . .and he's afraid of the memories he does have. In an upcoming chapter, he asks James, 'did I really do this?' referring to one of the events of Goldeneye, and James tells him, 'yes.' Poor Alec. I really do put him through the wringer. Some of your answers about Wade do come up in this chapter, but more are coming.
Steph: Oh yes, Sabrina definitely has her father's nerve! There can be no question there! And you're more right than you know about how much needs to be fixed. . .and how much really is right between them. I'm glad the patches work, because Alec and I went 'round and 'round on that. He finally convinced me to do it this way. (bloody annoying pain in the ass double-oh agent) More details about how the relationship between Alec and Rowanne came about in this chapter (it wasn't roses and chocolates, that's for sure).
I agree. . .James, like Alec, I swing back and forth between wanting to hug him and wanting to smack him clear into the next century. My best friend loathes him, and she's a big help when Rowanne and James get into it (which is at least once a chapter). . .they are very unwilling to trust each other.
Iolana (for chapter two): I may have mentioned this, but I love writing about Moneypenny, just as much as I love writing about M. Those two provide such wonderful inspiration. And I couldn't resist putting a bit of Moneypenny/Alec in there, as siblings. There's a bit more to Orlov targeting Alec, but you did provide me with a few things to flesh it out a little. As for the torture/beatings. . .William has not seen the footage, or at least, he hadn't. But he found references to it in the notes. How many more shocking revelations? Too many. They don't stop until the final chapter, I don't think. There are chapters without them, when I let the waters settle. . .it's necessary for the characters, the readers, and the writer, I think (rueful grin) Yeah, between chapters one and two, the conspirators took all of their notes to M, who, of course, conducted a separate investigation. As for whose body. . .you'll find out for sure next chapter. And Sebastian and William should be arriving either in chapter five or six. But very shortly.
On with the story!
Caught in the Game Again
Chapter Three
Count the Reasons Why
Jack Wade brought up the rear, pausing just long enough to make eye contact with his two men inside the master bedroom. They gently lay Al in the bed, then covered him up. They knew how to check for head injuries. . .and they would call for the Janus doctor if Al needed her. Satisfied that his boss was out of immediate danger, he continued to the den, which was used as an office by both Al and Ro.
Ro sat in her computer chair, still holding Sassy. The eight year old curled up in her mother's lap, still glaring at Jimbo. It was all Jack could do to keep from laughing. James Bond, super spy extraordinaire. . .and a pair of Trevelyan Furies brought him down. One of them a pint-sized Fury at that. Not surprisingly, Jimbo didn't look particularly amused. He went back and forth between glaring at Ro and glaring at his lady boss.
Ro, of course, was glaring right back. Damn, there were times when that girl was way too predictable. Still, it made up for all the times when she was so unpredictable, not even Al could figure out what she would do next. That was scary, because Al was even more unpredictable. He was usually quiet and reasonable. It was the unusual times that made Wade worry. Not just for Ro and the girls, but for Al.
"Well. Since we're all here now. . .I am Barbara Mawdsley, the current M for MI-6. This is Charles Robinson, and 007, James Bond. Your name is Rowanne Justine Bramwell Trevelyan. You were born January 8, 1972 in New York. Your parents are Jonah and Christine Bramwell. You have two living sisters, Lydia and Corliss, and one brother, Ethan, your fraternal twin. Your sister Diana died in 2001," Jimbo's boss began.
"She was murdered. Please get your facts straight," Rowanne interrupted in a clipped voice. She has an interesting accent, Wade thought, not for the first time. Ro retained her American accent, but there were hints of her husband's English accent as well. M hesitated, then inclined her head. Even so, even with that incorrect detail, Wade was impressed with what the head of MI-6 knew about his lady boss.
Hell, these were things Wade didn't know, not even after working for them for years! M continued, "You became involved with Alec Trevelyan in 1994, following him to Cuba in 1995. Some time in the last nine years, you married him. . .and turned Janus into an anti-terrorist organization, presumably in response to your sister's d. . .murder." Nice catch, Wade approved.
"Very good. I suppose you would like me to fill in the missing pieces?" Ro inquired, her tone acidic. Wade winced. Damn girl, cool it. . .she ain't the enemy! M, however, just stared at her. . .unless he was mistaken, there was actually compassion in the woman's eyes. Ro stared back, and Wade decided he couldn't blame her for being angry. Her home invaded, her husband attacked, her two daughters placed at risk.
And why? Sure, Wade was suspicious of Trevelyan when he first got his memories back. His first duty, ever since he left the CIA, was to protect Ro and Sass. That was his job. But Wade learned in the last few years that Alec Trevelyan would do anything in the world to protect all three of his girls. M said gently, "We would like to know why you never informed the proper authorities of your husband's survival."
Ro laughed, "The proper authorities? You? Please, don't insult my intelligence! I wasn't even sure he would survive. I can't even begin to tell you how many bones were broken when double-oh asshat there dropped him. It's a wonder my husband wasn't paralyzed, much less killed. As it was, both of his legs were broken in the fall. . .he sustained a terrible concussion. He had several broken vertebrae, broken bones in his arms."
She stopped long enough to draw a breath and kiss the top of her daughter's head. When she continued, her voice was much quieter, "He had several broken ribs, which in turn punctured his lungs. He was bleeding internally with a ruptured spleen, to say nothing of the tears in arteries caused by broken bones. He should have died before we even reached Puerto Rico. But Alec is stubborn, and he fought. We all fought for him."
Wade decided to ask the question that he knew both Jimbo and M were thinking. Tilting his head toward his lady boss, he said softly, "Maybe it's time you told all of us just why you saved him, Ro." She looked at him, her protective mask slipping briefly. Wade continued, making his voice as gentle as he could, "You know what he was, Ro. You know what he did, not just with Goldeneye, but even before. So why?"
"I'd like to know that myself," a hoarse voice said from the doorway. All eyes turned to Al, who still looked a little pale, but his eyes were focused and clear. Sassy squealed with joy and slid from her mother's lap to greet her father. Al was flanked by his two protectors, and Sassy stopped just short of throwing herself into her father's arms. Instead, she carefully took his hand and led him to the chair beside her mother's.
Ro reached over and took her husband's hand, caressing his forehead with her free hand. As ever, the affection between the pair made Wade uncomfortable, and he cleared his throat. Ro glared at him, but said in answer to her husband's question, "I suppose that's a fair question. And I wanted to wait until you were awake before I got into that part of it. Even though I don't think Bond has any right to ask that question."
"No," Al said calmly, "but I do." There was a half beat, then he added with an arched eyebrow, "And I thought we agreed not to use obscene language in front of the children?" Sabrina lost her scowl for the first time since the invasion and actually giggled. Al smiled at his older daughter as his younger daughter wriggled up into his lap. Ro ducked her head, but not before Wade saw her answering grin. She looked up and Al nodded soberly.
"You are, of course, correct. All right. Sabrina, Anastasia. . .I need you two to take care of your father," Ro explained. M started to protest, but Ro nailed the older woman with a cool stare, saying softly, "The girls know that their father did things he's not proud of. It's better if they learn it from us, rather than an enemy of Alec's. I don't plan to get explicit." In other words, don't tell me how to raise my children.
M inclined her head. After a moment, Ro took a deep breath and said, "Once upon a time, there was a young girl, the second child of a very rich man, the second child of five. She had precious little self-esteem, because she had a habit of listening to the wrong people at the wrong times and about the wrong things. A few months after she graduated from college, she went with her family to Russia. . ."
St Petersburg, 1994She stood apart from the crowd, a slight, solitary figure who didn't belong here and knew it. The young woman nervously rubbed her thumb over the rim of her delicate crystal wine glass, trying to remind herself to sip, rather than gulp. No sense in getting drunk, after all. She didn't need alcohol to help her make a fool out of herself. . .she could do that just fine on her own. Oh, how she hated these things!
It was for that reason that every few moments, she would take another step back into the shadows. That was where she felt the most comfortable. As the least attractive of Jonah Bramwell's four daughters, she found no judgment in the shadows. No one to judge her, and find her lacking because she didn't have the heart-stopping beauty of her three sisters, or the rugged good looks of her twin brother.
Her name was Rowanne Bramwell, the sparrow in a family of peacocks. Her hair was brown, mistaken for black only when wet. Her youngest sister Corliss had raven hair, and while her features weren't perfect, they were at least interesting. Her elder sister Diana was the breath-taking one, with her shoulder-length caramel colored hair and perfect features. And Lydia, second youngest daughter, simply didn't give a damn.
Rowanne wished she could do that. Surrounded by bright lights, beautiful people, and glittering treasures, she wanted to remain forever in the shadows. She could not drift along the halls, admiring treasures, not without making a spectacle of herself. She had not the self-confidence of her sisters or the bold courage of her twin brother. She'd rather be in the hotel, reading. Books were her best friends. She found no judgments in books.
It was something she learned at an early age. Books never found her amusing, as her father did, or disappointing, as her mother did. Through much of her life, if she didn't find comfort in books, she found it in her siblings. Unfortunately, her sisters were occupied. And Ethan didn't come to Russia. She missed her brother. If Ethan was here, she wouldn't be the only one in the shadows. He hated these things.
When they were forced to attend, the siblings would lurk in the shadows and talk. Ethan, who was attending graduate school in Scotland, was full of stories about Edinburgh and the 'lassies.' Sometimes, he would make his twin laugh with his attempts at a Scottish accent. His roommate was from the Highlands, and on weekends, Robbie would take Ethan with him to his home. That provided him with even more stories.
She had her own stories to tell. There were times when being a wallflower worked in her favor. Sometimes, she saw things that other people missed. Even things she wished she could have missed as well. People hurting others. People making fools of themselves. She observed and listened. Sometimes hearing things she didn't want to hear, knowing things she didn't want to know.
But she listened nonetheless, because as her sister Diana was fond of saying, there was no knowledge that wasn't power. She supposed if it was within her personality and desire, she could blackmail a few people with what she heard over the years. There were advantages to being a wallflower. Such people were ignored, as if they didn't even exist. Like servants. Like a butler. Like Callum, their butler when she was a child.
A waiter passed her as she finished her wine, and she softly called, "One moment, if you please?" The young man stopped and gave her a disarming smile. She smiled back, a half-smile designed to appease anyone who questioned if she was enjoying herself. She replaced the wine glass delicately on his tray, and said, "Another glass is not necessary, thank you." He smiled at her again, a dazzling smile, then went on his way.
With her hands free, she backpedaled until she could lean against a cool marble pillar. Such beauty here. Not just in this hall, but in this country. Her fingers went to the coral necklace she wore, a birthday gift from Diana when her sister went scuba diving in Hawaii. She smiled faintly as a familiar voice said, "You know, you'll never meet a handsome young Count if you melt into the darkness, sister mine."
"That's your wish, little sister, not mine," came the light reply. Lydia just smiled, her brown eyes dancing with mischief as she looped her arm around Rowanne's waist, and the elder sister continued, "And I was thinking about Callum. Funny, I know, since I haven't thought of him in years, but. . .I'm strange, you should know that by now. We've heard it enough times."
Her little sister hugged her, replying, "You are not strange, Rowanne Justine. I think Callum's favorite word for you was 'fey.' You aren't strange, and you aren't the ugly duckling. And one day, sister mine, you'll find a devastatingly handsome husband who thinks you're the center of the universe. Well, he better think that, even if he isn't devastatingly handsome!"
"Now, would this be before or after you met your handsome Russian count?" the elder girl asked with a laugh. That laugh ended on a squeak as Lydia poked her sides. Rowanne said, "You might want to talk to Mother about my ugly duckling status. I'm wearing this monstrosity tonight because of her. She went into my room and took out all the dresses except this one." She gestured to the mint green cocktail dress.
Lydia rolled her eyes, all too aware of their mother's manipulative nature, and said, "And let me guess. She took those dresses. . .or had them taken rather. . .back to her own room, and locked the door." The elder sister nodded. Oh yes. The girls knew their mother too well. Lydia shook her head, muttering, "You realize, of course, she did that because she knew you would just tell her 'no' if she told you to wear something else."
"Too bad no one told her that someone in this get-up would attract attention away from you three," Rowanne murmured. They came to a stop in front of one of the many portraits. Lydia just looked at her helplessly, caught between her older sister and her mother, as always. Rowanne took pity on her and said, "Go on. I'm fine. Go find your handsome Russian count, and live happily ever after."
"As if! Love you," Lydia said, kissing Rowanne's cheek. She sashayed off, and Rowanne shook her head. Oh yes, the Bramwell sisters. . .isn't it lovely how devoted they are to each other? Even the ugly duckling of the family is fiercely protected by the other three. Yes, protected, from all but the loneliness. She and her roommate sometimes talked about that, wondering if a one-night stand would ease the ache inside.
"How odd. . .I believed I was the only one who preferred the shadows!" someone said. Rowanne jumped. After regaining her composure, she turned in the direction of the voice. At first, all she could see were a pair of green eyes. Her new companion moved a little into the light, and now she saw that his hair was dark blond. He smiled mockingly and said, his English accent now much clearer, "One of the Bramwell beauties, I see."
Was he making fun of her? Her spine stiffened. She wasn't beautiful like her sisters, but that didn't mean she'd accept people mocking her! In a cool voice she learned from Diana, she replied, "My last name is Bramwell, yes. And you are?" His smile didn't waver. If anything, he looked intrigued and reached out to touch her cheek. It felt like an electrical bolt just shot through her, and she gasped a little at the contact.
"You have lovely skin. Unmarked. You may call me 'Alec,' Miss Bramwell," he replied. Alec, was it? She wondered if he worked for their mysterious host, 'Janus.' During the last few years, her parents donated several thousands of dollars to the Janus Group. It was why they were here tonight. A grand event, to thank his contributors. At least, that was why her parents were here. She was just along for the ride.
She would worry about that later. For now, she told him, "My name is Rowanne." He arched a brow, but she refused to answer anything but a direct question. She might not have been the prettiest of the Bramwell sisters. . .or the most charming of the five children. But she did have some sense, and she did have her pride.
"Rowanne? Are your parents Druids?" Alec asked, that mocking smile firmly in place. Rowanne controlled her desire to slap him. . .but just barely. While she possessed neither beauty nor brilliance, she did have self-control. Rowanne merely stared at him as she shook her head, and Alec continued, "No? Well, are we to play 'Twenty Questions,' then? You must admit, my dear, it's an unusual name. Particularly for an American."
"Perhaps. But as ninety-five percent of the guests are Americans, it's far more unusual to find a Briton here," she answered. Anger flashed in his eyes, and Rowanne added, "And we Americans have a wide variety of names. My mother liked 'Rowena,' but my father pointed out that I was likely to end up with the nickname of 'Weenie.' So 'Rowena' became 'Rowanne.' My older sister is the Druid of the family."
"Ahh. When you say that your sister is the Druid of the family, I take it you mean that she's very fond of trees?" Alec asked. Rowanne, while the most socially inept of the sisters, wasn't stupid. She was quite certain that 'Alec' wasn't this man's real first name. However, it would have been quite rude to call him a liar, particularly to his face. To say nothing of stupid. . .this man could be dangerous.
Instead, she replied, "No. . .I mean, she's a member of the Druid order." He shifted slightly, moving further into the light. That allowed her to see him more clearly, and Rowanne drew back. She was uncomfortable with men. . .even more so with handsome men. This man was sexy. Then she saw the scarring on one side of his face. Rowanne gently touched the scars, breathing, "My God, what happened?"
He froze, his green eyes tracking her movement. Alec didn't answer her question, and instead asked, "You don't seem repulsed?" She glared at him, actually offended by the question. Of course not! Then again, maybe he was used to twits who fainted at the least little thing. She didn't answer his question. Two could play at that game. Some of her previous composure returned.
At last, she replied, "As if! So your face is scarred. Big effing deal. You think it lessens your looks? Trust me, it does anything but. You're far better looking than the pretty boys I knew in high school and college." Rowanne paused, trying to decide how far she could go, then added with a casual shrug, now sounding like the teenager she used to be, "Besides, I'm no beauty queen. . .like I'm gonna give you a hard time about your appearance? Puh-leaze!"
Alec stared at her, then smiled slowly. That smile did funny things to Rowanne. Her heart skipped a beat, she could have sworn the temperature in the ballroom went up, and it was becoming very hard to breathe. Alec asked softly, "Does that mean, Rowanne Bramwell, that you find me attractive?" You have got to be kidding me.
She rasped out, "Yes." In fact, she was surprised that he wasn't beating the women off with the proverbial stick! His smile grew wider, and Rowanne's knees turned to water. Alec took first one step forward, then another. He was getting too close, and Rowanne backed up. Right into another marble pillar. Nowhere to go. And he knew it.
Rowanne stared at her companion in the shadows, feeling the cool marble of the columns through the sheer fabric of her sleeves. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to. . .do something. She wasn't entirely sure what she was trying to do. Maintain control over what was happening to her? There was a laugh and a half. She never felt so out of control in her life.
Alec was in control here. She could see it in the ease of his body, the casual grace of a man who held all the cards and knew it. She could see it in his green eyes. Were they green? Yes, she thought so. She was reminded, for some odd reason of a song popular when her sister was a teenager. 'Eye of the Tiger.' That was what she saw in Alec. The eyes of a tiger. Tiger eyes.
Nowhere to go. No way to stop him, and she didn't want to. Not with the way he was looking at her. A predator observing his prey, and god, how it excited her. Alec slipped his hand around the back of her neck, then pressed his mouth to hers. Those sensations that Rowanne felt earlier exploded with a vengeance, and she moaned, her legs threatening to give way. She slumped forward, and felt his arm go around her waist.
Rowanne was pulled against his body, and her pulse jumped once more. Clothing separated flesh, but that was irrelevant. Alec's tuxedo was close-fitting, and Rowanne could feel his muscles tensing as he pulled her even more tightly against his body. Rowanne copied his movements, though her muscles felt sluggish as she ran her fingers through his short blond hair.
Alec knew what he was doing. Oh, did he know what he was doing! Rowanne's blood was turning to liquid fire in her veins, and her mind seemed to have shut down. She was inexperienced. . .hell, this was her first kiss. . .but Rowanne was kissing him back for all she was worth. He broke the kiss almost abruptly, and rasped out, "This is a surprise. I must admit, you are not the sort of woman who usually catches my eye."
She smiled bitterly and replied, "Oh, that surprises me not at all. I. . ." She was silenced when Alec kissed her again. Rowanne closed her eyes, allowing the sensations to sweep over her. She just let her mind shut down, and her body take over. For the first time since her hormones awakened, that ache was gone. No one ever kissed her like this before. Hell, no one ever kissed her before. And she didn't want this kiss to end.
However, Someone upstairs wasn't listening. A low, deadly voice growled out, "So help me, if you're taking liberties with my sister. . ." Rowanne was so deep into the kiss, it took her a few moments to recognize the voice. When she did, her body stiffened, and Alec broke the kiss. Rowanne took several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. She looked into her older sister's eyes, glaring daggers at Diana.
Diana had the courtesy to look sheepish, but she said, "Rowanne is my little sister. It's my job to protect her. My name is Diana Bramwell. And you are?" Alec released Rowanne, and she stumbled a little. Diana slipped her hand around Rowanne's forearm, righting her. Alec merely stared at the oldest Bramwell child, and Rowanne suspected he would have answered that with 'very annoyed,' if he wanted to be honest.
However, he replied, "You may call me 'Alec.' My last name is not important." Diana's reaction to that was to tighten her hand around Rowanne's forearm, slowly drawing the younger girl toward her. Rowanne knew her sister. Knew that Diana's instincts were screaming at her right now. She could see the signs in Diana's expression. Alec looked at Rowanne, his expression almost regretful.
What did he regret? Though she and Ethan were very close, there were so many things Rowanne didn't know about men. There were, after all, things that a man would never discuss with his sister. And this man. . .whom she just met. . .she was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he kissed her. Why? Out of all the women here tonight, why did he choose a shy, awkward twenty-two year old who wasn't even pretty?
Why not Lydia? Lydia was gorgeous, with her glossy black hair and deep brown eyes. She had a flawless complexion. . .even when they were teenagers, Lydia never had trouble with acne. And her smile. . .everyone in the family remarked about what a gorgeous smile Lydia had. All right, she was two years younger than Rowanne, and might be too young for Alec. But there was still the matter of Diana. She was the most beautiful of the sisters. Especially when she was angry, like she was right now.
"Your last name is unimportant? Not to the woman whose little sister you were just kissing. Don't play games with me! My brother and sisters mean everything to me, and I will not tolerate someone like you playing with my sister's heart," Diana warned, her eyes flashing with fury. Alec's green eyes sparked at that 'someone like you.' Even someone with Rowanne's embryonic sensitivity could tell those words hit an unexpected target. Diana said, "RJ, honey, I was worried when I couldn't find you."
Rowanne cringed at the hated family nickname, and said mildly, "I don't know why. I always find a quiet, secluded corner when I get dragged to one of these mind-numbing events. I was just fortunate enough to find company this time." She indicated Alec with a nod of her head, and added, "Really, there's nothing to worry about. Worry about Lydia, who is intent on finding a handsome young Russian count to ensnare."
Alec coughed, a sound that could have easily been a laugh. Rowanne met his eyes, trying not to smile. Diana glared at him again, and Rowanne continued, hoping to distract her sister, "Really. I'm fine." Not really. She was still regaining her balance after being kissed nearly into oblivion. But she was twenty-two, hardly a child. Diana looked away from Alec, her eyes searching Rowanne's expression for several moments.
Then she smiled and said almost sadly, "Of course you are. I've spent so much time protecting you that I forget sometimes. . .can you forgive me?" In some ways, that annoyed Rowanne even more. But she offered her sister a tired smile, because as she exhaled slowly, her energy left her, taking with it her burgeoning confidence. Her sister probably did her a favor. What was she thinking, kissing a handsome man like that?
Alec took her hand, drawing her attention back to him. Once again, as skin came into contact with skin, Rowanne's pulse sped up. Even when he wasn't kissing her, he was throwing her off balance. The man said quietly, "I would like to see you before you leave St Petersburg." Rowanne just smiled wearily. Alec kissed her hand and vanished into the shadows. Where she found him, or did he find her? She wasn't sure, nor was she sure that it mattered. After all, it wasn't like she would ever see him again.
She rubbed at her forehead, and began walking back in the direction her sister appeared. Diana walked at her side. Every few moments, Rowanne would sense her sister looking at her with concern. Whatever. Right now, all she wanted to do was go back to her hotel room and sleep for the next century. She didn't have the energy to deal with her mother or her father, she didn't even have the energy to deal with Corliss.
She walked as quickly as she could, wanting to go away. Someplace safe, where she could hibernate, or maybe even cry. She wanted to cry, she realized with a shock. She wanted to cry. Alec turned her world upside down with that kiss, and now. . .now, she wasn't sure exactly whom she was. Silly. . .she always told herself that she didn't need a man to make her feel complete. Then why did she feel so bereft? So lost?
Because, she decided with more than a touch of bitterness, the universe decided to play a nasty trick on her, and open her eyes to the truth. That she did ache for the touch of a man, no matter how much she wanted to deny it. Maybe that was why this ugly little trick was played on her, because she spent so much time denying what was true. She was just thirteen when her body awoke. . .just thirteen when she had her first erotic dream.
And for the last nine years, the only thing that prevented her from becoming just another statistic in the teen pregnancy column was her own unattractiveness. She knew that. And as tempted as she was to buy love with her body, she could never bring herself to do it. Perhaps she was too afraid of being ridiculed or rejected. In one night, Alec turned that all upside down. Now she had to figure out what to do now.
In her turmoil, she totally forgot about her older sister. . .as well as most of her anger and frustration with Diana. It was wrong, wrong and irrational to be angry with Diana. Her older sister was just that. . .her older sister. In her eyes, Rowanne was still a child, and her first instinct was to protect her. . . even from herself. And maybe she was right, to protect Rowanne from herself before she believed in the kisses.
"Rowanne. . .Rowanne, wait!" Diana exclaimed. Rowanne gave her sister a tired look, and Diana stopped, as if Rowanne slapped her. The older sister put her hands on Rowanne's shoulders gingerly, saying, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. It just. . .I wasn't expecting to see that. My little sister kissing a man. I got scared." Rowanne favored her with a disbelieving expression, and Diana took her arm, leading her to a quiet room.
"That sounds totally stupid, Diana. I mean, come on. . .I know that it isn't the first time you've caught one of your kid sisters kissing a man," Rowanne answered tiredly. It was a known fact in the Bramwell family. When Rowanne became tired, her patience became sorely limited. Tonight, her patience was evaporating even more quickly than usual. Diana took her hands, holding them tightly between her own.
"But that's Lydia. And Lydia has never been considered shy, in any way, shape or form," Diana reminded. Well, Rowanne certainly couldn't argue with that. Diana continued, "I know in my mind that you're a grown woman now. . .but in my heart, you're still the six year old girl whose knees I bandaged. And you always will be. I got scared when I saw you with him."
So she kept saying, but why? Diana sighed deeply, saying, "You're my little sister, RJ, but in some ways, you're my rock. You're the most stable member of the family. You aren't high strung like Mother. You listen, unlike Father. When I saw you kissing that man, I also saw the look on your face. It was like seeing a stranger wearing my sister's face. And that. . .rattled me."
That made two of them. Rowanne could feel the last of her annoyance melting away, leaving only exhaustion and that lost feeling. She whispered, voicing the thought that circled in her mind ever since the first time Alec's lips touched hers, "Why did he kiss me? Diana? I don't understand it. I just met him tonight, and he kissed me. He. . .he kissed me after I told him that I didn't find his scars repulsive."
"I don't think one thing had anything to do with the other, sweetheart," Diana replied, draping her arm around Rowanne's shoulders, "I think he kissed you for one reason, and one reason only. . . because he could." She smiled almost sadly, caressing a lock of dark hair back from Rowanne's forehead, and added, "Who could blame him? You're a hundred times more interesting than most of the bimbos here tonight."
Rowanne smiled without any real humor. She said softly, "He did tell me that I wasn't his usual type. His usual type. I can believe that. I've seen men like him before, Diana. He. . .ah. . .god. He's sexier than Simon LeBon and John Taylor put together. Sexier than Simon LeBon, John Taylor, and Kiefer Sutherland put together, for that matter. I mean, I heard the term 'exuding sex appeal,' but never believed it now."
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then added, "And guys like that, Diana, they don't look at someone like me. You, or Lydia, in a hot New York minute. Even Corliss, even though she's only thirteen. She's just a kid, and she's already got the boys clamoring to go out with them. That's you, that's Lydia, that's Corliss. But not someone like me. I'm not pretty, or brilliant, or charming. Men like that don't kiss girls like me!"
There was a moment of confusion in her older sister's eyes, followed by a quick flash of anger. But Diana cupped her face in her hands, saying in a low, fierce voice, "I don't want to ever hear you talk that way about yourself, Rowanne Justine! Ever! You are just as good as any of us. Do you mean to tell me that for all this time, you've believed that you're the ugly duckling of the family?"
Rowanne favored her sister with her best, 'well, duh' look. Diana looked away, muttering, "I don't believe this. Okay. I'm smart enough to realize I can't convince you overnight that you're just as good as the rest of us. But starting tonight, I'm gonna make sure I never hear that come out of your mouth again. Starting right now. We're going home. You need to get some sleep."
With that, she pulled Rowanne to her feet. In a low voice, the younger sister asked, "Diana? Do one thing for me?" Her sister looked at her, and Rowanne requested, "Never call me RJ again? I hate that name." She wasn't especially pretty, but the nickname 'RJ' didn't suit her, either.
Diana smiled unexpectedly and replied, "Deal, baby sister. C'mon. Let's get you back to the hotel. If the ever-mysterious Janus decides to make an appearance, oh well. Mother and Father contributed to his cause, whatever that happens to be. It has nothing to do with us." Rowanne leaned heavily against her older sister. One battle was won. . . there were more to fight. After she got some sleep.
Puerto Rico, 2004
It was at this point that Alec Trevelyan took over the narrative. He said quietly, "I never expected to find someone else in the shadows that night. I preferred to stay hidden, and watch. Rowanne once told me about the Bramwell family butler when she was a child. Callum, he was called. And like Rowanne, he knew that people often said things without thinking while in the presence of servants. As if servants had no ears.
"It was something Rowanne noticed herself. She asked him once if he ever thought about using that knowledge for his own purposes. Callum was a good man, totally unlike me, and told her that he could never use that information. It was part of what made him a good butler, you know. To use such information for personal gain would have been the height of unprofessionalism. And he loved the children too much."
Matthew Tate listened. In all the years he worked for the Trevelyans, he never heard this story. He had a lot of respect for both of them, but he really didn't know them that well. Aside from the two girls, whom Mr Trevelyan called his 'princesses.' Like the other ex-Marines who formed the security detail for the Trevelyan family itself, Matthew knew the parents well enough to take care of them.
Sassy said now, putting her hands on her father's face, "But Daddy, you're good! Mommy, Bree, and me wouldn't love you if you weren't!" Mr Trevelyan smiled down at his baby girl, his green eyes warming. He put his hands over hers, drawing a giggle, and Matthew bit back a grin. Little Miss Sassy tended to have that effect on people, he knew. But her most powerful magic was saved for her father.
"What do you mean, little one?" the head of MI-6 asked. Sassy swiveled around and Mr Trevelyan barely managed to protect himself before the little girl accidentally rendered him incapable of fathering more children. Sassy stared at the woman hard, frowning thoughtfully. Matthew now had to bite his lip, to keep from laughing. She looked just like her mother when she did that.
"I am not little. . .I'm eight years old!" Sassy protested indignantly, and it was lucky that she was looking away from her father, because the head of the Janus organization was now grinning broadly. The little girl continued a bit huffily, "And my daddy's good. He gives me piggy-back rides and pushes me on the swing and lets me crawl into bed with him and Mommy when I've had a bad dream. HE's bad!"
Sassy glared at the black-haired agent, who was introduced as 'James Bond.' The same agent who found himself under attack by a little girl. God, but that was funny to watch! Matthew was fairly sure that it wasn't Bond who attacked Trevelyan, but Sassy didn't care about that. She saw him pointing a gun at her mother, and heard the yelling. He wanted to hurt her mother. . .and he hurt her father. He was bad. It was just that easy.
"Bree, honey. . .it's getting late. Could you take Sassy back to bed for me? Tomorrow's a school day," Mrs. Trevelyan said quietly. Matthew looked at her quickly. School day? It wasn't a school day. . .it was Easter vacation! He knew Mrs. Trevelyan didn't get a lot of sleep lately, but. . . From Sabrina's expression, Matthew could tell that the oldest Trevelyan daughter was coming to the exact same conclusion as he did.
"No, it isn't, Rowanne. It's the beginning of Easter vacation, and Aunt Corliss is coming. Remember?" Bree asked. Mrs. Trevelyan blinked in shock, then nodded with a sigh. By this time, it no longer surprised Matthew to hear Bree call Corliss and Lydia 'Aunt,' even as she called Mrs. Trevelyan by her first name. It was jarring at first, since Corliss was only six years older than Bree.
"Besides. You need our help taking care of Daddy, so the bad man doesn't hurt him again," Sassy added. Matthew almost laughed then. Anastasia Alexandra Trevelyan took instructions from her parents very seriously. Especially when her father told her to look after her mother. . .or vice versa. In a way, since she spent the first four years of her life seeing her father unconscious, Sassy was even more protective of him.
"He is not bad. . .he just did not understand what was happening, Sassy. And I do apologize for calling you 'little,' but you are about the same age as my granddaughter. She is very much like you. . .and like you, she tries to take care of her mum and dad. Do you have a lot of bad dreams?" M asked. Matthew frowned thoughtfully. He spent the last several years, employed by two former spies. She was up to something.
He was right. Sassy replied, "Sometimes. Sometimes, I try to crawl into bed with Bree, but I can't get into her room. 'Specially if she's mad at Mommy and Daddy. So I go downstairs, and get into bed with Mommy and Daddy. But Daddy, he has a lot of bad dreams. Even when Mommy and me are there to take care of him. Sometimes, he wakes up, screaming and crying. That scares me. I don't like it when Daddy cries. It's scary."
As she spoke, she settled more comfortably against her father's chest. Mr Trevelyan stroked the child's hair lightly, his green eyes filled with grief and guilt. He whispered something to her, and she smiled up at him. A blinding, trusting smile that would go straight to the heart and gut of any man, of any father. Or maybe any responsible man, because Matthew wasn't a father.
"I don't think you'll win this one, darling," Mr Trevelyan said ruefully, looking up to meet the eyes of his wife, "our daughter seems to have inherited your stubborn streak." Mrs. Trevelyan's eyebrows arched and she mouthed, 'my stubborn streak?' The boss added with a smile that could have been described as angelic on anyone else and replied, "I'm certainly not stubborn!"
"No, you're mulish," Lady Boss fired back with a wicked grin. Matthew always enjoyed the banter between them in such moments. They were a much needed dose of normalcy, on a night when nothing. . .and he did mean nothing. . .was normal. Of course, there were the usual side effects. . .the jolt in his groin at the look that passed between the husband and wife. Just where did he find someone who would make him feel that way?
"As entertaining as you two always are, we should probably get back on topic, before Jimbo there blows a gasket," Jack Wade said. Lady Boss actually pouted, but the grin she gave her husband told everyone paying attention that the discussion wasn't over. What they didn't realize, and the bodyguards did, was that the conversation would take place in the bedroom. And it wouldn't be verbal.
"Oh, if we must, we must. What were we discussing? Oh yes, the night Alec and I met. I should explain here. . .it sounds like my mother hated me, but that wasn't the case. Even then, I knew that. I knew she loved me. But she didn't seem to understand that I wasn't my sisters. More to the point, she didn't understand that she couldn't push me into a nice, neat little role. . .a nice, tidybox. . .and I would be happy like that," Lady Boss explained.
The woman, the one they called 'M,' shook her head almost immediately and said rather disapprovingly, "A good mother accepts her children as they are, without trying to turn them into something they are not. As annoying as I find the occasional sarcasm of my children, that is part of whom they are."
Lady Boss just smiled sadly and replied, "But my mother didn't see it that way. In her view, she was trying to mold me into someone who would attract a good husband. So, she believed she was acting with my best interests at heart. I try to remember that. . .but in truth, it's difficult. Even now. It's why I haven't spoken with my mother since Diana was murdered. Even now, she tries to run my life."
"Unfortunately, it was that very attitude which made it so very easy for me, when Rowanne and I first met," Mr Trevelyan said. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened, his eyes were blank, as he explained, "I was incapable of love. All I could see, when I looked at Rowanne, was someone I could use. . ."
St Petersburg, 1994. . .same night as ball
"She may be trouble," the woman observed as her employer quietly entered the video room. They would go over the reports and the tapes until it was time to leave for the train. While their ally was setting pawns into motion, they would see how much more they could get from the contributors who came to the ball tonight. Her employer looked at her, an eyebrow arched with amusement.
"Everyone has the potential to be trouble. You and Ourumov included. However, it is just as likely that she will be useful. She is a rather unhappy young lady, making her useful to us. It merely requires discovering the source of her unhappiness. . .and providing a way out," the man replied quietly. The woman merely smiled, and the man asked, sounding cross, "You think I am infatuated with a slip of a girl?"
"Not at all," Xenia Onatopp answered as her employer settled himself in his chair to look over the reports, "I think the child is infatuated with you, or could easily be. I simply do not see what use she might have. We have the money of her parents. What else can she provide us? What can she do for us, that her parents cannot?" Alec Trevelyan, also known as Janus, and once known as 006, sighed and turned to face her.
"If nothing else, my dear Xenia, we can use her as a shield. Her parents, no doubt, would be quite put out if they learned how we were using their money. Perhaps she isn't the favored daughter, but she is still their child, and they are still willing to move heaven, hell, and earth, to get her back," Alec replied at last. Xenia studied his face for several moments. He had no idea what she was looking for.
Doubt, about what they were doing? Not likely. He committed himself to this path years ago, and he would not turn back now. More to the point, he had no desire to turn back now. Xenia said at last, "I am not Ourumov. What do you see in this girl, Janus? This is not about conquest. She is not an ugly child, but she believes herself unattractive. What do you see when you look at her?"
Alec took a sip of the wine that was waiting for him when he returned from his sojourn through the ball and answered, "Innocence. I see innocence when I look at her. Such innocence as hers can be an amazing weapon, Xenia. Once her trust is won. . .do you not see the possibilities?" Oh, he could not use her to steal the Goldeneye.
He needed Xenia and Ourumov for that. But he was preparing to set events into motion. When wheels began turning, MI-6 would send James Bond. . .someone Alec knew well. While innocent, shy Rowanne Bramwell was hardly his type, that mattered little. She was not beautiful, but she was vulnerable. Something Bond never could resist. And there was a time when Alec found such vulnerability just as difficult to resist.
"And that is the only reason? She has not touched your heart in some unfathomable way?" Xenia asked, disbelief touching her voice. Alec shook his head, more than a little disgusted at the suggestion. He didn't have a heart. Nor did he have a conscience, not any more. He was Janus now, and all he had, all he wanted, was revenge. Revenge for betrayal. . .revenge for nearly thirty years of living a lie.
He replied, "My heart died with my parents, Xenia. Died, and was buried with them, thanks to the English. I am all that's left, and I will make sure England never forgets the Liensk Cossacks. That is, of course, assuming there is anything left of England after we finish with it." She knew his past. Knew, and didn't care. Did Ourumov know? Perhaps, but Alec didn't care.
In the years since losing his family, Alec found it difficult to let anyone in. Very few breached his protective barriers. . .most important was James Bond. As ever, rage exploded in his soul when he thought about his former friend, and Alec threw his wine glass across the room. It shattered into a thousand pieces as it struck the opposite wall.
Xenia, knowing his moods very well indeed, left without another word. Alec rubbed his hand over his eyes, looking at the image of Rowanne and Diana Bramwell. The two sisters were deep in conversation, Diana's hands wrapped around her little sister's. Her face was very intense as she talked to her sister. An old, familiar feeling rose in Alec's chest, and he struggled to push it back down. He had no time for this.
Sometimes, when Alec was very tired and his protective shields slipped, he thought about the older brother who never had a chance to live. He was a small boy, hardly more than a toddler, when his father took his own life as well as the life of Alec's mother. He honestly didn't remember either of them. And his brother died nearly fifteen years before Alec's own birth. What would it have been like, if his brother survived?
Would he have been so protective of Alec, as Diana Bramwell was of her younger sister? He knew all about the Bramwells. He made it his business to know about the families of his contributors. You just never knew when such information would be useful. There were the parents, Jonah Bramwell and his wife Christine. Both came from old money, just the sort of people he came to loathe as he grew up. Very old money.
And then there were the children. Diana was twenty-eight, the oldest child. She was a consultant, which, Alec learned, was just another term for someone who didn't really work. She would take vacations to Hawaii and California, taking younger siblings with her if they were available. Unlike her parents, she was very cautious about who received her money. Without fail, she researched the charities to which she donated.
Rowanne, the young woman whom he kissed tonight, was the next oldest. Twenty-two years old, but she could pass for much younger. Perhaps one reason she was so inexperienced with members of the opposite sex. . .she looked fifteen. That, and she made no attempt to make the most of her looks. While she lacked the heart-stopping beauty of both her older and younger sisters, she was hardly unattractive.
She had a Bachelor of Arts in Art History, and only came with her parents on this trip to Russia because she had nothing else planned. A recent graduate, she seemed to be drifting through life at the moment. She had no real need of money, as she inherited a sizable amount of money from her grandmother, and on her twenty-fifth birthday, she would gain access to her trust fund.
She had a twin brother, Ethan. He was currently attending graduate school in Scotland, Alec learned, and he was studying engineering. As of the previous week, he had no steady girlfriend, but rather, 'played the field.' Bond would find the boy a younger version of himself, no doubt. The only Bramwell son didn't really interest Alec, and so he barely paid attention to Ethan.
Lydia was the third daughter, the most exotic looking of the five children. She was twenty, currently studying pre-law at Harvard. She was very smart, very beautiful, and the young men on campus were utterly terrified of her. Just the sort of woman that James always found intoxicating. She was most choosy about her lovers, and interestingly enough, none of her choices involved what her parents thought proper.
In truth, Alec thought her intriguing. . .but a little too young for his tastes. Besides, she was committed to her studies. Corliss, the baby of the family at thirteen, only rated a single page. Like her older siblings, she was very bright, doing very well in school, and very popular. Alec was many things, committed more sins than could be accounted for, but one thing he was not, and never would be, was a pedophile.
No. No, Rowanne would be the most useful. Even so, Xenia's questions echoed in his mind. He kissed that girl tonight because he could. That was the only reason. He kissed her because he could. It was different from kissing one of James Bond's women. They shared nearly everything. Except what really mattered.
James would never give Rowanne Bramwell a second glance. Alec wouldn't have, but for one thing. She haunted the shadows, as he did. With his wealth, and his power within the Russian mafia, he could have any woman he wanted. And he took them, when he wanted them. Like his competitors, he had courtesans of all nationalities to sate his more base carnal needs.
Alec shifted uncomfortably in his chair, assorted aches and pains reminding him that he was thirty-five years old, not twenty-five. The scars on his face tingled from where Rowanne Bramwell touched him. No one touched his scars before, besides him. No one was permitted to touch them. For the first time, he wondered what it would be like, a woman kissing his scars. Alec trembled briefly, then shook his head. He couldn't think such things. He was Janus now.
There was no room in Janus for any tenderness. It was as he told Xenia. His heart was dead and buried with his family. There were times, especially immediately after Arkangelsk, when he thought he heard his mother's voice telling him it didn't have to be this way. But he didn't even remember what his mother's voice sounded like. Besides, why wouldn't she want her death, or the death of her son, avenged?
It was his father who pulled the trigger, but it was the bloody English who put the gun in his hand. It was the English who deceived him for nearly twenty-five years. He was twenty-seven years old when he saw that file. Twenty-seven years old when his life dissolved into a lie, and at the same time, everything made sense. Not that the truth kept him from falling to his knees, half-sick with grief and guilt and fury.
It was early in the morning. Perhaps one or two, he couldn't remember. Alec did remember how exhausted he was. It was about six months before Arkangelsk, and he found the file in a manila envelope resting against his door when he returned from a mission, then a debriefing. Curious, he took it inside, wanting only to fix himself something to eat and get some sleep.
Neither happened. Alec read the report first. By the time he finished, he was on his knees, trembling in shock. He doubled over, barely making it to a bin before retching. At least he hadn't eaten anything in several hours. Once he could stop shaking, Alec forced himself to read the report a second time. The shock began to give way to grief, suppressed for all these years, followed by rage and just as potent, guilt.
Angry. So terribly angry. Beyond angry, it burned him inside out. But he welcomed it. He welcomed the corrosive acid eating away at his soul. This explained so much. So very much. The British psychiatrists who examined the little boy believed he witnessed the murder-suicide, as it was called now. That didn't surprise Alec after all, who believed he couldn't be surprised any more than he already was.
And just who came up with the bright idea, he wondered, not for the first time, of turning the child into an agent for the government that betrayed his parents, and so many others? Whose twisted sense of humor led them to recruit him when he finished with University? He closed his eyes, seeing twenty year old Alec Trevelyan in his mind's eye. Young, wary, but for all that, wanting to save the world. Young, idealistic, and stupid.
Oh yes. When he was twenty, he wanted to save the world. He believed he could. He was smart, he cared about people, and that was all that you needed, wasn't it? Stupid boy. He finished with University two years early. His professors described him as brilliant, though distant. The first person who broke through his protective shields was James Bond, whom he met on his first day in MI-6. Six years older, also an orphan, Bond took young Alec Trevelyan under his wing, treating him as a younger brother.
And from that, a fierce friendship developed, marked by wise cracks and a ferocious protectiveness of each other. And his friendship with James Bond opened Alec's soul to other friendships. . . especially that of 002, William Pryce-Meecham, who became his mentor. But James was special. Even as they saved the world, they bantered like brothers. Saving the world, or saving each other. Alec's fingers stilled. How many did he save James' life? How many times did James save his?
NO. He would not think about this. It made no difference how many times James Bond saved Alec's life. Alec Trevelyan was dead, and Janus took his place. Alec Trevelyan was dead, Alec Trevelyan had to die, because Alec Trevelyan was the product of the bloody English bastards who cost him his family. James would never understand.
And William Pryce-Meecham. . .no. No, he couldn't think about him, either. Sometimes, he allowed himself to dream about what might have been, if he offered that chance to James. It was impossible, of course. He knew that. But that didn't stop him from considering the possibilities. Though Ourumov was his partner, Alec didn't trust him. There were times when images would flash through his mind, and while Alec didn't know where they came from, they warned him not to trust the other man.
He trusted no one. He didn't trust Ourumov. . .he didn't even trust Xenia fully. And again, he looked at the two sisters, sitting quietly in a room off the main ballroom, hands clasped. His eyes lingered on Rowanne Bramwell. Quiet, shy Rowanne who seemed to have a backbone of steel, when she remembered how to use it.
He remembered how her eyes flashed at him with quiet rage when he referred to her glibly as one of the Bramwell beauties. She stood up to him. How many times did she do that, particularly with a man she didn't know? And why was it that some of her confidence returned when she saw his scars? She pulled away when she saw his face, but the retreat stopped when his scars became visible as well.
That alone made her intriguing to him. In Alec's experience, the opposite was usually true. He saw revulsion in the eyes of many women when they saw the scars on his face. And for some reason he didn't entirely comprehend, it enraged him that she wasn't repulsed. It enraged him, because he didn't understand it. It enraged him because his scars were a source of control for him, and she took that control away from him.
He wanted to hate her for being innocent, when his own innocence was shattered so ruthlessly. He wanted to hate her for touching his scars and not being afraid. He wanted to hate her for having everything he ever wanted. . .loving and protective siblings, wealthy parents. She appreciated the love and protectiveness, even as she resented her sister's interference when Alec kissed her in the shadows of the ballroom.
He wanted to hate her, because right now, it was so difficult to get her out of his mind. Though inexperienced, her answering kiss was passionate, and Alec's blood thundered in his veins at the way she melted against him. So young. So inexperienced. So very seductive, that power her inexperienced passion gave him. Alec longed to hurt her, longed for her to know the pain of having her entire life revealed as a lie.
In his mind's eye, he could see her body writhing under his touch, head thrown back. He wanted to break Rowanne Bramwell, but the image vanished when the means of her destruction crossed his mind. He closed his eyes, willing himself to remember the details in his file. He was Janus, and he had no soul. No heart. He wept for the last time when he read that file. Nothing was left. Only echoes of his lost innocence. He turned off the cameras, one by one. Until only the sisters remained.
In the screen, he could see his own reflection, cast over the image of the two sisters. A shadowy figure clad entirely in black. And then, that last capture was shut down. He no longer was capable of feeling. . .but his body still required sleep and nourishment. Alec Trevelyan left the room, silently turning out the lights as he went. He still had a great deal of work to do, particularly when he got back to the train.