Well! Not quite so long a wait this time! In addition to the reviews, which I'll get to in a minute, I'd like to thank Iolana and alleymap for listening while I sorted out a tangle in the next chapter. It was supposed to go in this chapter, but James decided to get stroppy. So what else is new? Oh, and Damien Falco was seen in the most recent JB movie, Die Another Day.
Reviews!
Rhivanna: Wow! That was quite the review you left! I don't believe further comment is necessary. . . you got your point across very well. Poor Alec, indeed, and I'm afraid I'm not finished with him yet. (On the other hand, it makes the smackdown all the more satisfying when it does come, yes?) Thank you for putting your two cents worth in, about Alec. I think what you said plays into it for me, along with a few other reasons. Hope you enjoy this next chapter. (glares at characters) They weren't especially cooperative.
Gin: Ah, yes. . .I can't argue. Sean Bean does have that effect, I've noticed. I think out of all the movies I've seen, I only hated Sean Miller in Patriot Games. . .and I didn't even hate him in the beginning. Ahhh, my reference to Star Wars went over well. I couldn't resist. It occurred to me that the same was true of Gandalf. . .who died and was resurrected, even stronger than before. The book stash? Oh, drat, I meant to get to that in this chapter. . .next chapter. Promise. And I'm glad you liked the comment about 'the dark djinn,' because that's the name of the next chapter!
Elenhin: Yes, I did research medieval torture techniques, and chose the three which were painful, but which wouldn't make me physically ill to write about. The others required graphic descriptions, and I really didn't think that was necessary. Yes, it seems like the whole scene with the chaise lounge has gone over well. I'm glad to hear that. And another vote for Sean Bean's portrayal of Alec as the reason we just can't stay away from him. I can't argue, because for me, that played into it as well. (laughing) Oh yes, the Star Wars reference. I could easily see the boys half-asleep, watching the movies.
On with the story!
Chapter Ten
Living in the Aftermath
On a scale of one to ten, the present snarl in the Janus personnel files was about a five. At least, it would be under ordinary circumstances. But in the. . .well, however much time elapsed since she came here from the library, Rowanne still couldn't get it untangled. In part. . .well, she wasn't focusing all of her attention on it. She was worried. Deeply worried. Not just about Alec, but about the girls as well. And, if she was truly honest, she was worried for herself, as well. The fainting spell the previous night worried her a lot more than she wanted to admit to Alec. Especially now.
Out of the newcomers, she could count on one hand the known allies. They were: Charles Robinson, William Pryce-Meecham, and Sebastian Miller. Barbara Mawdsley, or M, was a question mark. Rowanne knew too much about the game to fully trust the older woman. She would protect Alec as long as she thought him useful. Rowanne didn't judge her for it, nor did she envy the other woman for her job or her power. With power came responsibility, and a whole bunch of headaches. However, that also meant that Rowanne couldn't trust her. . .couldn't afford to trust her.
Natalya Simonova was another question mark. Would she believe what she saw? It was hard to say, and what was worse, she really couldn't blame the Russian woman. Not after what she survived. Rowanne sighed, rubbing her forehead. She remembered how she reacted after seeing the tapes. And the doctors told her how lucky she was. . .both she and Sassy. But was it luck or something else? Four months after GoldenEye, she learned the truth about what was done to Alec following his capture. Once she and Sassy were stabilized, she made the first of many fateful decisions. Alec was, of course, still in a coma, and she contacted a reputable plastic surgeon to fix the scars. Diana argued against it. But then, Diana didn't see what she saw. Rowanne could never bring herself to show her sister the tapes.
It felt too much like a betrayal of Alec. She knew, all too well, that if she showed the tapes to her sister, Diana would back off. But the best she could do was to tell her older sister as much of the truth as she could bear. His captors violated Alec many times over. How could she violate him again? And so, she only told her sister that Alec was captured and tortured, setting him onto the path that eventually led him to Rowanne. Or was it the path that led Rowanne to him? Who could be sure, and really, did it matter?
Not in the least. She knew the truth about the man she married. Janus was still a part of Alec. In some ways, she believed that Janus was an alternate personality, borne of the torture and the memory machine. And in other ways. . . She didn't know. Worse yet, she knew that she would probably never learn the answer. The only one who knew the whole truth about Janus and his connection with Alec. . .was Janus himself. And Rowanne didn't think it particularly likely that he would tell her. She saw his hatred of her in his eyes when he pulled a gun on her, before Alec regained control.
Yes, Janus hated her. Whether it was because she mattered to Alec. . .or because he believed she would betray Alec, it was anyone's guess. If she was right, and Janus was an alternate personality created by the trauma of the torture and mental rape of the experiments. . .then it was likely that Janus viewed himself as Alec's protector. Rowanne was no psychologist, but she knew just enough about alternates to get herself into trouble if she tried to talk about it. Classic case of a little knowledge being more dangerous than no knowledge at all.
Knowledge. That brought her to James Bond, the final newcomer. She had to be very careful with him. She knew all too well that he was probably the most dangerous out of all of them. He had the same knowledge, the same skills, and the same attributes of Alec. Even now, her husband was a dangerous man. Even now, nine years out of the field, he was still a force to be reckoned with, though he regarded himself as soft. But James Bond was twice as dangerous as Alec, because he remained in the field, and worse, he had years of hatred fueling him. She had to be careful around him. He got the better of her once. He would not get another opportunity. Never mind that Alec didn't blame her. She blamed herself.
There was something else. She had to guard her tongue when she was around the agent. Lashing out at him would not help Alec, the girls, or herself. Rowanne had to remind herself that Bond was only now seeing the truth, a truth she knew for years. But for some reason, that really didn't help. She could still see, in her mind's eye, Alec freefalling from the antenna after Bond dropped him. Worse, she still had nightmares about it. She hated James Bond for that, just as much as Bond hated Janus. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. . .but that was the way it was.
And like Bond, it would take time to accept the change. It was just that. . .the girls and Alec were her world. Even more so than her parents, Ethan, and her remaining sisters, because the girls and Alec never judged her other family. Yes, she often felt that Alec was only barely restraining himself when the conversation turned to her mother. Even so, he respected her wish and kept his contempt for her mother to himself. That was more than she could say for Ethan, Corliss, and Lydia. But. . . they were her siblings, and she didn't want to lose them, not after losing Diana.
She checked on the girls before going to her office. Sassy and Sabrina were in the pool, supervised by Sebastian Miller and Matthew Tate. It wasn't that Rowanne distrusted her step-daughter. Sabrina was a responsible girl. But it wasn't fair to her, asking her to watch her little sister all the time. And since the pair volunteered. . .that was even better. Sabrina, she remembered, didn't argue. Rowanne had a sneaking suspicion that her step-daughter was developing a crush on the very cute Sebastian Miller. And of course she noticed that Sebastian was cute. She was married, she wasn't dead, and she knew that Alec looked as well. He just couldn't touch. Not if he knew what was good for him, at least.
Rowanne smiled to herself, remembering his expression when she told him that. 'You can look,' she told him as they walked along the beach at their previous home, hand in hand, 'but don't touch. I'll have to hurt you if you touch.' He had smiled at her, that devastating smile that could melt stone. Alec said nothing, she remembered, but that smile said it all. Rowanne's own smile broadened as she remembered. But, she still had a snarl to work out.
She might have actually had a chance to work out this particular snarl, if the door to her office hadn't practically imploded off its hinges. Rowanne's head snapped up, her blood running cold as an obviously-upset William Pryce-Meecham burst inside. He had been running. He was out of breath, and his usually immaculate white hair was disheveled. And he had been watching the tapes. Those damn tapes. The retired agent said hoarsely, "Come immediately, Rowanne. . .Alec needs you!" That was all that was said. . .that was all that needed to be said. Rowanne didn't even bother saving what she was working on. . . just bolted out of her chair and ran for the video room.
This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.
James Bond unconsciously echoed Alec Trevelyan's earlier thoughts. But where Alec was shocked at the horrifying images he saw of his own torture, Bond was shocked by Alec's reaction. He was currently unconscious, half in the arms of Charles Robinson and half in the arms of the behemoth of a Marine. The ex-Marine said gruffly, "I have him. I need you to go ahead and make sure people stay out of my way."
Charles nodded, his face a mask of concern, then eased Alec more fully into the other man's arms. He wasted no time in speaking, just rose to his feet, ready to lend a hand if it was needed. But it wasn't. Evan White cradled his boss against his chest, as if Alec was the same age as either of his daughters, then rose to his feet. Even more unnerving, the former 006 stirred not at all. His head lolled back, face turned away from James, so that he could only see the back of Alec's head. And then White was striding from the room behind Charles.
William already ran to retrieve Alec's wife. That frightened James more than he was willing to admit. Not just seeing Alec collapse like that, but William didn't even make the attempt to hide his fear. And Alec. A voice that sounded almost like Alec's, but was far more mocking, asked in the back of his head, And how did you expect him to react? He didn't remember being tortured. Didn't remember any of this. Not until you returned, and everything was brought back to him. As if he hasn't been through enough?
Stop. You have no reason to do this, you have no reason to feel guilty. And yet, James continued to follow Charles and White through the house, meeting the bane of his existence at the door to the master bedroom, with his former instructor right behind her. Her lips tightened as she looked at Alec, but her voice was gentle as she said, "Put him on the bed, Evan, I'll take care of him. Where are the others?" James looked around, wondering that for the first time. They were coming behind him, much slower. Natalya. . .Natalya's face was wet with tears, and M had her arm around the Russian woman.
"Will he be all right?" Natalya asked hoarsely. She wiped at her tears as she and M reached the rest of the small group. Her eyes were focused only on Alec as White and Charles gently arranged him on the bed. He wasn't supposed to be so bloody still! Natalya shook her head, whispering, "How did he survive? How could he survive? They hurt him so badly! They hurt him! They didn't want information, they only hurt him because they enjoyed it, because it gave them pleasure!" She added a few choice Russian curses and James winced, grateful he wasn't on the receiving end of her fury.
Rowanne Trevelyan responded with a ghost of a smile, "He'll be fine, eventually. He needs time to deal with what he saw. He. . .he didn't remember any of what happened, Miss Simonova. Maybe I shouldn't have. . .but. . ." She shook her head, and went into the bedroom as Charles and White stepped away. White put his hand on her shoulder and she smiled weakly. James didn't like the way his heart contracted when he looked at Alec. . .and at his young wife. They were both so pale. The American woman murmured, "Evan, do me a favor and check on the girls. They should be in the pool with Sebastian Miller and Matthew. But make sure."
"You got it, Juturna. Robinson, you come with me. Don't worry, Lady Boss. He's strong. After everything else he's been through, he'll make it through this as well. And then we'll get the sons of bitches who did this to him in the first place. I promise," White answered. He squeezed her shoulder again, then shouldered his way out of the master bedroom, Charles right behind. The girl sat down on the bed beside Alec, her hand stroking his right cheek. The remaining representatives of MI-6 and Natalya waited outside the door somewhat awkwardly.
"M, William, I could use your help," the girl said quietly. The pair stepped into the room and Rowanne Trevelyan turned to face them. Her face was very pale and very serious as she said, "William, I need you to go back to my office and save the file I was working on. You can just x out of the document, and when it asks if you want to save the changes, mark it as 'yes.' I don't know when I'll get back to that, and I don't like to leave those files up where anyone can see them." James wondered briefly if William even knew what she meant when she said 'x' out. Bloody computers!
"Consider it done, my dear girl. Just take care of Alec," William replied and swept out of the room once more. James watched him go, wondering if he was the only one who thought this situation was becoming steadily more. . .surreal. More than likely. It seemed like he was the only one who couldn't wrap his mind around what he saw earlier. And if he was truly honest with himself, he would admit he didn't actually want to, either. It would be so much easier to ignore what he saw. . . wouldn't it?
The woman who set all of this into motion called, "M, I need you to do something just as important. Sabrina might take it into her head to watch the tapes. She knows where the room is, but I won't make things easier for her. If you could go back and remove the tape from the recorder, and put it in the storage space under the VCR, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm afraid that what happened just now will get Sabrina's curiosity up, and I don't think any of us are ready to deal with the fallout from that."
"I will do just that, Rowanne. Please, concern yourself only with your husband. I can find my way back. Bond. . .I am trusting you to behave as a professional. Natalya, will you be all right?" M asked. James didn't hear Natalya's response, as he was gazing steadily at the pair on the bed. Alec remained unconscious. Again, James tried to remind himself of the fourteen hellish months he spent in North Korea, of the torture he endured. He tried to summon his anger, his knowledge of his own superiority. But it wasn't there. It was shattered by his friend's screams as he was tortured.
"May we help?" Natalya asked in a small voice, and that finally triggered James' anger. Natalya sounded like she felt guilty, and there was no need for that. She had no need to feel guilty. She did nothing wrong. He leveled his most devastating glare at the back of the woman now tending to his former partner. This was all her fault. It was her fault that Natalya felt guilty. She should have insisted that Natalya not watch the tapes. James was rattled to discover that his glare had absolutely no effect on her. He was told on more than one occasion that his eyes could be a pair of laser beams.
"Yes, you can, Miss Simonova," and Rowanne Trevelyan turned to face them. Actually,her attention was on Natalya. . .she didn't even look at James. Not that he allowed that to bother him. She shook her dark hair out of her eyes and continued, "In our bathroom and under the sink, there's a basin. If you could take it out and fill it with water, I'd greatly appreciate it. You might need two trips. . .I also need a washcloth. Alec is a little feverish, and I want to make sure it doesn't get any worse. His body just received one helluva shock, and his immune system isn't what it used to be."
"I'll get the water, you get the washcloth," James told Natalya. Their reluctant hostess showed no signs of hearing, or even caring. She returned her attention to her unconscious husband. James started to follow Natalya into the bathroom, then stopped. For the first time since Alec's collapse, 007 actually saw his former friend's face. Even unconscious, Alec knew no peace. His face was tense and anguished. James looked away, unable to bear any more. The seeds of doubt were planted earlier. . .the night before when M told him that Rowanne Trevelyan told them the truth about the torture. They grew as he watched the torture for himself.
Despite his ruthless attempts to batter them down, they continued to sprout. Alec hadn't remembered the torture. And he was so shocked by what was done to him, all those years ago, that his mind shut down and took his body with it. That was the only explanation. His mind simply shut down, because it was overwhelmed. As he entered the bathroom, he saw that Natalya already removed the basin in question from under the sink. He joined her and began filling the basin with tap water. Natalya began to hunt for a washcloth. James finally said softly, "It was not your fault."
"I know." That was all she said, that was all she seemed capable of saying. James didn't know what to do, how to comfort her. After a moment, Natalya whispered, "I just keep thinking about his wife. She was young when she saw that. . .so young. And pregnant! She was six months pregnant when she saw that, James! Your M told me that on the way here. . .she told me that seeing that, it almost sent her into premature labor, and I can see why! I can see. . .oh, God. No wonder she hates us. No wonder she is so very protective of him!"
James said nothing, for what could he say? She was right. That was part of the reason he was so angry with Rowanne Trevelyan. After seeing the torture, he could understand her rage toward them, and her ferociously protective attitude toward Alec. He hated her for taking that anger away from him, that surety that GoldenEye really was Alec's fault. And it still might be. But if she was telling the truth about the torture. . .what else was the truth? James shuddered, uncertain if he wished to know the answer to that. How many other things was he wrong about?
Natalya Fyordovna Simonova was entirely too aware of James Bond's anger. She was just as aware that most of it was misdirected against their hostess. When she first arrived here, and learned of Rowanne Trevelyan's existence, Natalya hated the other woman. She was responsible for Alec Trevelyan's continued existence, and the rebirth of Natalya's nightmares about Janus and GoldenEye and Severnaya. But then everything was thrown into chaos, first with Alec's apology, and then with the tapes.
The tapes. Those damnable, evil tapes. Natalya shuddered, remembering what she had seen only moments earlier. No. The tapes were neither evil nor good. They were simply objects. Just as. . .just as the GoldenEye was just an object. It was the men who made those tapes. . .they were the evil ones. And the ones, she was starting to believe, the ones ultimately responsible for the massacre at Severnaya. She thought she went through hell after Severnaya, but. . .how could he survive such brutality? How could. . . She didn't understand. How did he hold onto himself, for all those weeks? Natalya shook her head, taking the washcloth to Rowanne Trevelyan.
James followed a moment later, and the young woman on the bed said quietly, never looking up from her husband, "Just set the basin on the table." She didn't say anything else. Just kept stroking the blond hair, caressing his cheek. His cheek. His now-unscarred cheek. Natalya shuddered, remembering the sight of the hot iron rods burning his face. James did as he was told, and Rowanne continued, "You may go. I require no further aid." From you, were her unspoken words.
James stared coldly at the back of her head, and Natalya said quietly, "Go, James. I will stay and help Mrs. Trevelyan." James transferred his gaze from his former friend's wife to Natalya, who repeated, "We have unfinished business, she and I." Her former lover stared at her a moment more, then nodded curtly. He looked back at Alec Trevelyan, and Natalya saw his expression change. Unfortunately, she couldn't tell what that meant, what his expression meant. Then he left the room, and Natalya was alone with the Trevelyans.
"If you wouldn't mind hanging onto that washcloth a moment longer, I need to unbutton my husband's shirt. I need to start cooling him down, and not just his face. Otherwise, he will get sick," her female companion said. Natalya bobbed her head, and folded over the washcloth. However, instead of merely standing there, she dunked the cloth in the waiting basin while Rowanne made quick work of the buttons. Natalya caught her breath at the sight of the new scars, then cursed herself for her reaction. Rowanne said softly, "Some of these scars are the result of his surgeries, after we left Cuba. I know you've noticed that I'm very protective of him. When he fell from the antenna, and hit the dish, the impact did a number on his spleen."
This explained her comment about his immune system. She looked around, her eyes meetingNatalya's, and said, "He should have died. He should have died of internal bleeding, long before the doctors reached him. In the helicopter, while we were being pulled up into the chopper. To this day, I still don't know why he's still alive. This scar," indicating a pale line on his abdomen, "was to remove the spleen and clean up the bleeding inside. These other scars are from the torture. He wouldn't tell me about them when I asked. Even after I kissed them. After I saw the tapes, I realized how he came by them."
"I'm sorry," Natalya said softly, "I didn't know. None of us knew." The other woman nodded and Natalya handed her the washcloth. Trevelyan's wife began sponging the damp cloth over his face. The water was fairly cool. Not icy. She tested it before allowing it to be brought in here. After a moment, Natalya continued, "M. . .she told me that you were six months pregnant when you saw those tapes. That you almost went into premature labor as a result. Is that when you decided to bring in the plastic surgeons?"
"Pretty much," Rowanne admitted, "Once Sassy and I were stabilized, I asked them to contact the plastic surgeons employed by my family. Soonest they could get to our compound was in about three weeks, but we had time.This was only four months after the accident, and my first priority was to save Alec's life. When he started asking questions about why I saved him, I let him think it was because I knew what happened to him. By that time, I did know. But at the time. . .I wish you could have seen him through my eyes. I loved him, Miss Simonova. I loved him then, and I love him even more now." Natalya swallowed hard. Yes. Yes, she could see that.
"You told him that you saved him because you knew what happened. But you saved him because you loved him. Did you even know you were pregnant at the time?" Natalya asked. Rowanne shook her head as she handed Natalya the washcloth. The Russian woman obligingly dunked the cloth into the water once more, wringing it out and returning it to her companion. Rowanne accepted it with a faint smile. Natalya continued, "What made you decide to make Janus into an anti-terrorist organization? Or was that Trevelyan's idea?" The woman froze, then began to sponge the cloth across her husband's face once more.
"It was my choice, initially. Alec. . .Alec was still largely amnesiac. He was awake, but he remembered almost nothing for almost two years after he woke up. The first year, he spent regaining his strength. The second year. . .in some ways, he was just a child, Miss Simonova, learning his world all over again. That year, it showed me what Alec would have been like, under different circumstances. He was reborn. And yes, as his memories returned, his personality changed. But the gentle, sweet man he was when he first woke up remained," Rowanne Trevelyan answered.
The object of their conversation moaned a little as his wife swabbed the washcloth over his chest, and she gently soothed him with her touch and voice. Natalya waited patiently, because Rowanne still hadn't told her why. After a moment, the other woman continued softly, "As for the why? Well. . .my older sister died in a terrorist attack. For years after GoldenEye was destroyed, Janus operatives were standing down. Janus, their leader, was lost to them, for all intents and purposes. And they were loyal to him."
Natalya swallowed hard, murmuring, "I'm so sorry." She was set on her path by GoldenEye. . .and so was this woman. For the first time, she realized how similarshe was to Rowanne Trevelyan. Andsomething occurred to her. Natalya continued slowly, watching Alec Trevelyan all the while, "You said that your sister died in a terrorist attack, and that was why you recreated Janus into an anti-terrorist organization. When did she die? And why did the Janus operatives agree to this change in their mission?"
"In answer to your second question, they agreed because. . .well, I was their de facto leader. I was Juturna, consort to Janus. I saved his life. Given that, they transferred their loyalty to me, at least until Janus recovered. They. . .they were glad to have a purpose again, I think. Even if it was totally opposite of their original mission. For some of them, I don't think it even mattered. . .some of them just wanted to hurt someone. The who didn't matter," the brunette answered. Natalya nodded slowly, but before she could press the issue of Rowanne's sister, the other woman added, "And my sister was killed in 2001."
Three years earlier, then. Three years, they spent transforming Janus into an anti-terrorist organization. Again, Natalya murmured, "I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say. Instead, she looked around the bedroom. Oddly enough, it reflected the personalities of both inhabitants. She said, uncertain if she was trying to make conversation or if she was genuinely curious, "You have a very interesting home. Very interesting furnishings." There was a soft laugh as Rowanne passed the washcloth to her. Without even thinking about it, Natalya dipped it in the water once more and expelled the excess water before returning it to the other woman.
"Thank you. When I was a girl, I dreamed about living in a house like this. So, when we started to outgrow the old compound, where I took Alec originally, I drew a rough sketch of how I wanted this house to look. . .and asked him what he thought of it. He liked it. . .and. . .well, you see the results. I bought most of the furnishings at flea markets and bazaars. Open air markets. Once I got over my fear of a terrorist attack happening in such a place. I swore to myself that I wouldn't allow my sister's murderers to have that victory over me. But it wasn't so easy. . .not after certain events," the American replied. Natalya chose not to ask what those 'certain events' were.
"Flea markets? But. . .I understood that Trevelyan had money from his legitimate businesses. . .and that you came from money as well," she protested instead. What she was protesting, she wasn't entirely sure. Rowanne turned and smiled unexpectedly, a rueful expression that Natalya would come to recognize over the next few weeks. She always wore that particular expression when she did something unexpected.
"You understood correctly. . .but I didn't have access to that money. And I exhausted a lot of money from my inheritance when I had the surgeons come to Puerto Rico to save Alec's life, then repair his face. I was working on a limited budget. Plus, I have a young daughter. . .and I wasn't about to spend an obscene amount of money on furnishings. I wanted Sassy to have a chance to be a little girl. She could have never had that, not if she was tiptoeing around priceless items," came the surprising answered. Natalya never thought of it in those terms, but it made sense.
"How exactly did you get Trevelyan into American airspace? You were flying from Cuba, after all, so how. . .?" was Natalya's next question. Rowanne stilled, though very briefly. She passed the washcloth back to Natalya, caressing her husband's hair while the Russian woman soaked the item once more. Natalya wrung it out, and then passed it back to Rowanne. The other woman took it, gently sponging her husband's face once more. The tenderness in the gesture made Natalya's throat tighten.
"That is actually a rather long story. I'll sum it up, though. My older sister was seeing a guy for a while during college. When I stayed with Alec in Russia, she asked her former boyfriend to keep an eye on me, since he was there at the time. He agreed, and looked after me up until he was sent to his new posting. Puerto Rico. When we flew into American airspace, Damien. . .that's his name, Damien Falco. . .he recognized my voice and got me permission to land. Once we were on American soil, he met us and explained about Diana's request. See, what neither Diana nor anyone else knew was that Damien was in the CIA," Rowanne explained.
That seemed too neat, and Natalya said so. Rowanne gave a strange little laugh, replying, "I know. But at the time, I was too relieved to care. Damien stuck around for about five months, supposedly to take care of me after my sister left. Didn't find out just how wrong I was until Diana had been home a month. I was seven months pregnant and still wobbly from viewing the tapes. Dylan stuck by me, saying 'Janus would want me to look after you.' Well, we came into the room where Alec was hooked up to machines galore, and found Damien standing over him with a pillow in his hands. Dylan went ballistic. Damien knew whom Alec was, and had orders that if Janussurvived. . .he was to take him out. Or so he said at the time, but by then, I was wary of anything he said."
"And because of his promise to your sister, he had to wait until you were out of harm's way. I would imagine, too, that in those early days and weeks, you never left Alec's side," Natalya guessed. Her companion nodded and Natalya continued softly, "I think we have both been through great strains because of the men in our lives." There was a suppressed snort that could have been laughter or a sob from the other woman, but as Rowanne turned to face her, there was only pain in her eyes. No moisture.
"And yet, we wouldn't trade them for anything," she replied. Natalya wasn'tsure about that. . .well, yes, she was. As much as she hated to admit it, Rowanne was entirely correct. The American woman continued after a moment, "Damien told me, once I talked Dylan out of beating him to a pulp. . .he told me the truth. Or, most of it. Damien knew only what my mother told him, when we landed. My mother told him a number of half-truths, and Damien took matters into his own hands. In those early months, he couldn't get Alec alone. Someone was always with him, monitoring his condition, or. . .or just being with him. When I heard what Damien had to say, I asked Dylan to show him the tapes. Maybe a mistake, but I was so angry. . ."
"And that choicechanged everything," Natalya guessed, nodding in acknowledgment. When her companion nodded, the Russian woman continued, "At that point. . .he switched sides, so to speak?" Rowanne didn't answer immediately. She was busy staring at scars on her husband's body. Her finger kept outlining the scar from the surgery to save his life nine years earlier. Natalya tried to imagine how that girl must have felt. Was it like it was for her, when Severnaya was attacked, then destroyed?
"Switched sides? I suppose you could say that. He was my contact for the next few years, until Jack Wade retired from the CIA. While he didn't know me or my sisters, Jack did know my father. They went to college together, you see. Damien knew this, and that was why he suggested that. . .well, that Jack be hired as our head of security. Apparently, my mother convinced Damien that I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. So, when he realized the truth, he swore to me that he would never harm us again. But you know, maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise for anyone of us. My mother never forgave Alec, because I fell in love with him. As far as she was concerned, he stole her daughter from her," Rowanne explained.
"As if you were a possession? What kind of mother views her child as property?" Natalya asked incredulously. She knew very little of Rowanne's early life, but there was something about the way Rowanne said that. 'Stole' her daughter. Natalya knew that the other young woman went with Alec Trevelyan willingly, so he most assuredly didn't kidnap her. Though certainly, Janus was capable of such things. And Rowanne didn't know the whole truth about him, but she still went with him willingly. Natalya asked slowly, "For that matter, what manner of woman is your mother?"
It occurred to her, belatedly, to ask about Rowanne's picture of the house as well, but Natalya decided it wasn't that important. She was far more interested in what happened in the past. Before this house was built, and while Alec Trevelyan was putting the pieces of himself back together. It was just as well. Rowanne was still thinking about her mother.
"She does what she believes is best for her children. There's an American soap that my older sister used to watch. One Life to Live. I can't bring myself to watch it, because one of the characters on that show is so much like my mother, it's painful. Dorian Lord. She. . .she does what she believes is best for her children, no matter what they happen to think. Even if the children are all adults and quite capable of making their own decisions," Rowanne murmured. She looked over her shoulder, adding with a wry smile, "Alec hates her."
"Because he loves you," Natalya said quietly. Rowanne merely looked at her, and Natalya added, "Anyone can see it. He loves you. He needs you. He would kill for you. . .he would die for you. And he knows that your mother hurt you. That's reason enough for him to hate her." She didn't know how she knew that. She just knew that she did. She knew one other thing, and told her companion so, explaining, "I am quite jealous. I may never have someone to love me like that."
A half-smile appeared as Rowanne answered, "Maybe I should introduce you to my twin brother Ethan." Natalya, much to her own surprise, didn't argue. Rowanne continued, "In any event, I don't want Alec to die for me, and I'd rather he didn't kill for me, either. Janus remains, Miss Simonova, just below the surface. And there are times when I'm afraid that if Alec killed again, Janus. . .Alec would find it difficult to suppress Janus. Even more difficult, I should say. And yet, at the same time, Alec killed long before Janus even came into being. It's such an odd balancing act. But he's my husband, Miss Simonova. I can't help trying to protect him."
"Call me 'Natalya,' please," the Russian woman told her American counterpart, "and I would like it very much if I could call you 'Rowanne' in turn." The other woman nodded with a half smile, and Natalya continued, "And of course you feel like you must protect him. He was wounded, in more ways than one, when he came to you. But, he feels that same need to protect you. Rowanne. . .you are his family. You, and those amazing young girls. I know. . .I know that he is the child of Lienz Cossacks, and I know he lost his previous family, his parents. Your double-oh two told me that."
Much to Natalya's surprise, Rowanne didn't protest that William Pryce-Meecham wasn't hers. In a manner of speaking, by virtue of his relationship with Alec, he was hers. From what the older agent told her, he was Alec's surrogate father, which made him Rowanne's father-in-law, in that strange family that was MI-6. And there was no doubt in Natalya's mind. Alec was still a member of that family, whether he realized (or accepted) it yet. Rowanne said softly, "I do realize that. But what Alec doesn't understand is that he has always protected me. If only from Janus."
Natalya let that go, murmuring instead, "He is still unconscious. Why is he still unconscious? Why does he not stir, or even moan?" Rowanne's eyes darkened a little, though Natalya realized with a twinge of guilt that it was sadness she saw in the other woman's eyes. Sadness. . .sorrow. Not anger. Natalya knew that she would have preferred anger to sorrow and sadness. Anger would have been far easier for her to bear. She looked back at Alec. In spite of herself, the last remaining survivor of Severnaya reached out and gently touched the face of the first living survivor of Orlov's insanity.
"I think he's retreated to a place, deep within himself. Where no one can hurt him. Where no one can reach him. The same place he retreated nine years ago. His body was physically healed after three years, Natalya. But he remained in a coma for another two years. His mind wasn't ready to cope with the outside world, and so it remained shut down. It remained shutdown, until he was ready to start living again. I think that's what's happening now. I think. . .I think he'll come back to us when he's ready," Rowanne answered.
Natalya murmured, "I hope so. I am. . .I am still forgiving him, you understand?" She couldn't forgive him. Not totally. But she was getting there, and she wanted him to recover. It would be harder this way. But. . . It would be worth it. The computer programmer would have said more, but Alec did begin to stir, and Natalya really thought she shouldn't be here when that happened. Besides. Rowanne Trevelyan had the situation under control. She put her own hand on Rowanne's shoulder and said softly, "Thank you." That obviously startled the other woman, for she turned to look at Natalya. The Russian continued, "Thank you for not interfering when I wanted to see the tapes. I had to see them. I had to know why my friends and co-workers at Severnaya had to die."
Alec moaned again, drawing the attention of the two women, and Natalya squeezed Rowanne's shoulder again, saying, "I will leave you now. You do not need me here. Nor does he. I shall close the door on the way out." Rowanne nodded, and thanked Natalya by putting her hand over Natalya's. It was odd, really, how ties were formed. An illusion had been shattered, and the truth was slowly taking its place. Along with that new truth was an alliance, between two women whose worlds had been shattered and then reformed by GoldenEye.
Oh gods. . .his head hurt. That was the first thing that Alec Trevelyan knew. A steady, drum-like pounding in his head. The second thing was the sensation of a cool cloth against his torso. He gave a low groan, and a gentle voice murmured, "Easy, Alec, you're safe." Rowanne. Alec allowed himself a tiny smile. It was good, that she was here. And then something occurred to him. Safe. She told him that he was safe. Why would she say that?
Why wouldn't he be safe? That made no sense. Alec realized he would have to finish waking up, so he could find out what the bloody hell was going on. He slowly opened his eyes. Rowanne, evidently anticipating this, had closed the blinds in their room, so the bare minimum of light filtered into the room. She sat beside him, a washcloth hanging over the side of a basin resting on her nightstand. Rowanne smiled at him, touching his cheek, and murmured, "Welcome back. How do you feel?"
"My head is killing me," Alec murmured. Oh, that hurt. Even talking hurt. However, Rowanne was prepared for this as well. How did she do that? One of these days, she would have to tell him how she didthat, how she was almost always prepared for whatever came their way. One day. Right now, he gulped the glass of water she presented to him and the aspirin. Although, in truth, Alec felt like he neededaspirin the size of a bus. He would take what he could get, however.
With the aspirin safely swallowed, Alec leaned back, sighing quietly. Rowanne asked, "Do you remember what happened?" What happened? Alec closed his eyes, trying to focus his attention on something other than his still-thudding head. Rowanne's hand covered his own, and she said softly, "Don't try so hard, Alec. Just relax." Alec smiled faintly and allowed his fingers to curl around hers. Rowanne answered with a squeeze of her hand, and Alec jerked her all the way on to the bed. She squeaked in surprise, then laughed.
"Stay with me," Alec murmured, though he wasn't sure why he made that request of her. It wasn't his way, to ask her to stay. Much less with everything that was going on right now. But. . .Alec felt so strange. Like. . .like his world had just turned into a Hieronymus Bosch painting. . .or maybe Vincent van Gogh. He never opened his eyes. He didn't need to. Rowanne's arms slipped around him, and he felt her hair against his bare shoulder. Bare skin. Had he been swimming? No, his hair wasn't wet.
He was mostly dry, aside from the moisture from the washcloth. What happened? Alec gave up on trying to figure that out, and instead, focused on the warmth of his wife's body next to his own. Her hand slid up and down his torso. The ex-agent gritted his teeth. He realized it was meant to be soothing, but the action generally sent blood rushing to the most inconvenient of places. Without ever opening his eyes, Alec reached over with his free hand and trapped hers on his chest. It was much safer there.
He felt gentle kisses being pressed to his forehead, the tip of his nose, each cheekbone, his lips, the corners of his mouth, his chin, the line of his jaw. But these were light kisses, designed to soothe, rather than inflame. Alec's arm tightened around his wife, because it was those kisses that alerted him. Something was wrong. He asked softly, "Rowanne? What is it? What's troubling you?" She didn't answer. That was the second clue. The only time Rowanne stalled in answering his questions was. . .
An image exploded in his brain, causing Alec to gasp. The image showed to him Rowanne, bent on a Catherine wheel, her wrists bound and suspended over her head. But the picture blurred and faded, before disappearing altogether. The picture that took its place was far worse. This picture, he sensed, wouldn't go away. This picture, unlike its predecessor, it actually happened. In his mind's eye, he saw a young man with sweat-soaked blond hair and an all-too-familiar face, nearly broken with devices of medieval torture. Bloodied and beaten, exhausted and riddled with pain. Worse yet, he knew the young man's face. Knew it, because he saw that face every day when he looked in the mirror. Oh yes, he was quite a bit younger. But the fact remained. He was the young man who was tortured with medieval instruments of pain and interrogation.
He moaned aloud as the pictures flew through his mind. The torture. The discovery that they negated the choice he made in Scotland. The reminder of what Janus wanted to do to Rowanne when they first met her, because she was so innocent. He tried to tell himself that it was over, that Janus would never have a chance to harm Rowanne. He tried to tell himself that his wife and daughters were safe, but in his heart of hearts, Alec knew better. The game was afoot once more and it would take everything he had to survive its end.
Rowanne must have realized what he was thinking about. She must have realized the reason for his reaction. She must have, because she froze in his arms, whispering, "Oh, Alec. I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?" Forgive her? What was there to forgive? Alec forced his eyes open to look at his wife. There was grief in her eyes. Grief and guilt and sorrow and shame. But why? She did nothing wrong. Nothing, Janus whispered in the back of his mind, but she did suggest it was time to watch the tapes. The tapes. Those bloody tapes. Those bloody tapes, showing the bloody torture of his younger self.
It wasn't her fault. It was a choice I made, and I won't let you unmake it, or try to push the responsibility off on my wife. It was my choice. Janusfell silent. The first-born of the dark twins said aloud, "It wasn't your fault. You made the suggestion. I didn't have to take it. I could have said I wasn't ready. It was time. . .long past time for me to know what really happened. Did to us. I'm just sorry you had to see that. Much less when you were pregnant."
There was a hitch in her breathing, and Alec asked softly, "Did you really think that I wouldn't find out? Dylan told me. After I. . .after I found out about the changes in Janus. After you offered to show me the tapes. He told me that you saw them when you were six months pregnant with Sassy. He wanted me to know how brave you were. Not that he was telling me anything new. You and Natalya. Sabrina and Sassy. None of you asked to be part of this."
Rowanne lay her head back down on his chest, murmuring, "I've never felt brave. Much less that day. You weren't ready. You were still too fragile. Remembering just enough, and still not the entire picture." She pressed a light kiss to his chest, and Alec began caressing her hair. After a moment, Rowanne continued, "I don't. . .I wish. . .god, I should be comforting you right now, not the other way around!" Alec smiled a little.
"You are comforting me, Rowanne. You are a comfort to me. You always have been, from the moment I met you," he murmured. She never talked much about the day Janus almost killed her. He was so angry with her. And yet, in the end, he had to appreciate the irony. For revenge, the Janus Group was created. For revenge and redemption, it became something else entirely. Because while the Janus Group was reinvented as an anti-terrorist organization, in memory of Diana Bramwell, it continued in its new path as a means for Alec to redeem himself.
Given that, Alec couldn't allow Janus to harm Rowanne. There was more to it than that, of course. But that was how he appealed to his destructive alter ego. He reminded his alter ego of the gunshot that woke three-year-old Alek Denisov. Then he directed Janus' attention to the terrified five year old at her mother's side. Some scars never heal. Witnessing the deaths of his parents was one such scar, and Alec was damned if his daughter would go through that.
He felt warm tears on his skin, and Alec nearly groaned aloud. That was the one thing that could decimate both of them. . .both himself and Janus. Tears. Janus in particular feared the tears of a woman. In St. Petersburg, while Natalya was prisoner on that bloody train, Alec would silently beg her to start crying. He needed an impetus to break through the layers of cotton that seemed to surround him. St. Petersburg. The confrontation among the ruins. . .oh, gods! Alec did groan this time, and Rowanne whispered, "What is it? What's wrong, Alec?"
"I just remembered. Oh, God, Rowanne!" he rasped out. Rowanne pulled back, ever so slightly. He could see the fear in her eyes, and Alec pressed his hand against her cheek, lightly stroking the curve of her cheekbone. The touch soothed them both, and Alec leaned forward, kissing the palm of Rowanne's hand. He murmured, "I remember. James told me earlier. . .he told me about something that happened in Russia, something I didn't remember. Something. . .something I just remembered."
"What was it?" she asked softly, scooting up beside him. Alec wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close. She calmed him, allowing him to focus. Janus, for once, was silent. Perhaps he understood that he was coming dangerously close to shattering Alec's patience for good. Wounding with words was Janus' style, rather than Alec's, but the former double-oh agent had certain weapons of his own at his disposal. There was the obvious. . .threatening to kill them both. But he had other possibilities. Including getting rid of Janus once and for all. Just as Janus had access to memories that Alec didn't, Alec had access to information that his dark twin didn't have. And he had no compunction whatsoever about using that information.
"I remember. I remember learning that James was in St. Petersburg. He wanted to meet with Janus. Janus set up the meeting, but I pushed through, just enough to tell Xenia to tranq him, then put him in the helicopter. It was my best. . .my best chance to save them both. James and Natalya. I knew. . .if anyone could get out of that situation, it would be James. He could save himself. . .could save himself and her. Oh, god, I remember!" Alec told her, almost stumbling over his words to get them out.
Rowanne shifted, her free hand reaching out to stroke the hair away from his eyes, and she whispered, "Then tell me, Alec. Tell me all of it." He stared at her, and in a soft voice, he did just that. He told her about the discovery that James was arriving in St. Petersburg. . .about the meeting with his old friend among the statues. He told her about listening helplessly while Janus taunted James with the past, going so far as to bring up one of the last things Alec said to James, so many years earlier. His wife did what she did best. . .and just listened.
After being summarily dismissed by his erstwhile hostess, James found himself wandering about the manor. He bitterly resented the woman whom his old friend married. Passionately resented her. He never saw M behave as a servant, as she did when she told the girl that she would take care of the tape. In some ways, he realized he should have enjoyed seeing someone other than M with all the power, but he couldn't do it. Not when the person with the power was Alec Trevelyan's wife.
And so he wandered around the Trevelyan home. It was a big house, in the Spanish style. A quick glance inside the pool room told him that they had an Olympic-sized pool, where the two Trevelyan daughters were cavorting. Actually, the current 006 and one of the Marines were cavorting with the youngest daughter, with Sassy, while Sabrina watched on the sidelines. She turned her head, as if sensing his eyes on her, and stared right at Bond. Her blue-gray eyes iced over with hatred and contempt. James withdrew, suddenly uneasy at the girl's expression.
She was very much Alec's daughter, and he had to remember that. . .even if she was only seventeen years old. He could not allow himself to forget that this was the girl who would have held him off with only a water gun at her disposal. In spite of himself, James found himself smiling. That was pure Alec, of course. He believed firmly that perception was as important as reality. Yes, Alec would have taught his daughter the same lesson. And in anyone other than Alec Trevelyan's daughter, James would have admired her moxie, even if he didn't approve of her methods. She could have gotten herself killed. He could have killed her, never even realizing that she was holding a water gun. That scared him.
But then, so did the emotions currently raging in his soul. Eighteen years earlier, he believed he watched Alec die. Nine years ago, he learned that Alec was alive and a traitor. Nine years ago, they fought atop the GoldenEye satellite. Nine years ago, he dropped Alec to what should have been his death. Nine years ago, he thought Alec was buried under the satellite antenna. Now, everything that he believed for the last nine years was thrown once more into chaos. Alec survived the explosion. . . but he was captured and tortured.
Forgive me, James, he had cried out. Forgive me. Forgive him, when there was nothing to forgive. When he was the one being hurt so terribly. And irrationally, those words only angered the double-oh agent further. Why did Alec insist on making this difficult? Why could he not simply allow James to hate him? Why? Why did his annoying wife fight so bloody hard to save his life? Why was any of this happening? James had no answers, and he had no way of dealing with his rage. He was angry. He was so angry.
He was angry with Alec for being alive, for being the Alec he remembered. . .and yet, at the same time, he wasn't. In some ways, he didn't recognize this Alec. There was gentleness in him that James didn't recognize. Even as a double-oh agent before being torn away from them, Alec wasn't exactly a gentle person. He couldn't afford to be. He couldn't afford to be nice. MI-6 existed so that the gentle people could keep their gentleness, their civility. Where, then, did the gentleness come from? Another question that couldn't be answered, and that made him angrier. In part because he had a sneaking suspicion that she had something to do with this.
Yes, angry. But not nearly as angry as remembering what was done to Alec. Not as angry as remembering the bitterness and contempt in the eyes of Evan White. As if James Bond was nothing to him, nothing but dirt under his heel. Not even in the eyes of his worst enemy did he ever see that degree of contempt. Evan White didn't care whom he was, didn't care what he could do. He wasn't worthy of Evan White's respect, and the former Marine had absolutely no problem whatsoever with demonstrating just that.
He hated Evan White. He hated Ourumov and Orlov, for what they did to Alec. He hated Rowanne Trevelyan for saving Alec. He hated Janus for simply existing. He hated himself for blaming people for things beyond their control. He hated himself for being out of control. But what was he supposed to do? He was a double-oh agent, sworn to protect her Majesty the Queen. He was sworn to protect England. Alec betrayed them in the past. Or did he? James hated this. He hated being so uncertain. Uncertainty led to one being killed, and James really had no wish to die.
And yet, right then, there was nothing for him to do. No enemy to fight. He was exhausted. As exhausted as any of them. As exhausted as all of them. It would hurt nothing, he decided, if he returned to the quarters currently assigned to him, and rested for a while. But James Bond forgot one thing. . .with unrest came nightmares, and he had just witnessed a waking nightmare.