a/n: Spoilers for No Time to Die herein.
In the helicopter Madeleine kept the girl very close in the same way her daughter latched her own tiny arms around the small stuffed animal. Taken into the heart of the submarine pen, into the garden, Madeleine would not speak. Only when Mathilde was ripped from her arms did she relay a handful of words in French: Don't touch anything. I'll come back for you.
Now, Primo was the assigned guard. With an artificial eye there was less requisite for a general pat-down, but under Safin's orders he adhered to protocol. He worked coldly and efficiently and determined that she was clear. Then he walked her down the hall away from the passing soldiers and bioengineer Valdo Obruchev into a small subterranean cell that was about ten paces across in any direction. Heavy concrete walls broken up by a slit of sky. No furnishings beyond a simple bed and chair and toilet that stood out as anachronistic.
As soon as Primo released his grip Madeleine got away from him. She eyed the chair and toilet and bed but didn't engage with them. She didn't look him in the face either. Better to leave her with some dignity. He turned as if to walk to the door and she spoke,
Mathilde, where is she now? What has he done with her?
Her voice was tightly controlled. Without looking at her face the emotion was palpable.
You must let me see Mathilde, she said. You're the only one who can do so.
The boss is busy.
He's taken enough pains just to bring me here. He will listen, if it's to do with me.
If Safin just gave the order to shoot Swann in the head, they wouldn't have this problem. A mother's desperation couldn't be tempered by isolation and the child had no place within a military operation.
You understand, said Primo, facing the door, that even if I relay your message, there is no guarantee.
Yes. But you lose nothing by telling him.
What the boss did with his time and resources was really his business. To take Swann and the girl right from MI6 was no easy feat. Bringing them into closely disputed waters was just asking for more trouble. Pretty soon they'd have five different agencies breathing down their necks, all trying to earn the title of global peacemaker, and for what? It didn't matter. Primo wasn't paid for his opinions. He grit his jaw and went out into the hall and tapped his ear and said, in Russian: No 5 reporting.
No 1 listening.
Swann.
What of her?
She's asking about the girl.
A beat.
Bring her to me in an hour and we shall discuss the matter.
Primo relayed the message. Madeleine looked him in the eye but gave no indication that she'd understood. She turned around slowly, gracefully, to perch on the edge of the stiff bed. Primo said nothing. Her shoulders fell. Then her head bowed, and she said in a much quieter voice, Leave me alone, please.
Hello, Madeleine.
She was still wearing the clothes she had been captured in—practical taupe jacket and white trousers bespoke the transition into motherhood—but it was not possible to disguise her innate elegance.
Madeleine raised her chin slightly.
Where is Mathilde?
Elsewhere, said Safin. She is unharmed. Only resting. It has been a very long day for her, no?
Madeleine said nothing. There was a hollowness to the blue eyes, but no recent grief. She avoided direct eye-contact but did not turn her head away, studying him.
His own attire was closer to what he'd worn the day he stopped by her office in Belmarsh. Breathable, but much more practical than a kimono. In a drawstring pouch kept around his neck, tucked beneath his shirt, was a vial of insurance.
I know how much she means to you, he said. But what we discuss now is not appropriate for a child. I admit, although it brings me no pleasure, that I have made a significant error in judgement. In doing so it has cost me the lives of several trustworthy operatives. Your hesitation ensured Blofeld's death was achieved by chance. It is fortunate that things played out in the way they have. But I should never have entrusted you with such a responsibility.
Madeleine kept her arms at her sides so deliberately that it could not be natural or comfortable.
You understand, he said, that I cannot tolerate failure or indecision. I would never lay a hand on Mathilde, but there are others on this base who are less discerning of children. Perhaps that will—
—no, like a dam breaking, a sharp burst of emotion piercing through her well-crafted facade of control, bleeding through into the blue eyes before it was wrestled back down through clenched teeth, no, God, take me. Do not touch her. I will take her place.
Without so much as considering his terms, the mother's wrath was provoked to surface. Wretchedness twisted up the delicate face. Her hands balled up into fists, knuckles white. Any tighter and she'd breach the skin of her palms. After taking her primary source of hope away it was only natural she should become distressed. But give any intelligent animal enough leeway and you bred complacency instead of compliance. Options to correct this tendency were myriad.
Why did you call for me, Madeleine?
I just want to see her.
What would you do to convince me?
Anything, said Madeleine. But this was offered up too readily. She did not yet understand that groveling would get her nowhere. That clinging to even the smallest scrap of hope was fruitless. There was more than one way to break in an unruly horse.
Safin dismissed Primo from the room. He walked over, closing the door, clicked the lock and turned.
If you offer yourself in the girl's stead, no one else can take your place. Do you accept this?
Yes.
Madeleine's mouth was a thin line but the eyes even at a distance brimmed with resolve. Safin crossed the space between them in three easy steps.
You were searched when my associate first brought you in? Madeleine nodded. He caught her by the jaw, prying her head up. Speak.
Yes, I was searched.
Her expression set too tightly to be stoic. He let go her face and instead caught the back of her head, brushed her hair back the way his mother used to when he was a child. Without the sentiment it was just a mechanical act. Madeleine stifled a shudder. Her face briefly became his mother's twisted up in a death rattle, flesh eroding. The smell persisted. Safin did not flinch. Let go her head.
Remove your jacket.
Her shoulders set. Without breaking eye contact she reached up slowly and discarded the jacket. Safin raised both hands to her face. Parsing down her throat, shoulders. Naked arms bore the first signs of of gooseflesh. The soft brown shirt would not keep her warm. When his hands came to her waist she tensed.
Turn around.
She did so. He patted down her back, ribs. Crouching down to check the graceful legs, impartial. He stood up.
Face me.
She turned around, jaw tight. A dull smile twisted his lips but did not reach the eyes.
You may undress.
Something died at last behind the blue eyes. Breath faltering, her chin bowed. She had made her decision and she would see it through for the sake of the child who needed her more than anything in the world. She took a step back and he did not follow. Her hands were shaking but not to the point of any incapability to comply. As she disrobed down to underwear he did not follow suit for the same reason he did not allow himself the luxury of impatience or rashness.
She stood very still with the clothes pooling around her feet. She would not look him in the eyes. Anywhere else.
The rest, he said.
Madeleine flinched. There was no need for worry. The neurological injuries suffered in his youth already compromised him in several ways. Even with all the right herbs and a stringent life he could never reverse the damage dealt to his body, only slow its progress. But he could not perform in the same way as her lover. Without the distraction of a biological imperative there was only physicality.
When he took a step forward the blue eyes fluttered closed. He did not take his attention away from her face and parsed over the soft body now for the purpose of eliciting a physical response, like priming a machine. There was no excess of force. When his hand went between her legs Madeleine breathed out hard through her teeth. Suppressing the need to inhale until she could not. A guttural sound strangled in her throat as he entered, bracing for a violence that he would never inflict. Averting her face so he was close enough to place his mouth against the pulse under her jaw. Safin did not.
Retreating into her mind, there could've been any past lover. It made no difference to him and it would make no difference to her once they were through. She had asked for Mathilde but not once for Bond. He did not take his attention away from her face. A flush stained down her pale throat and below but her teeth gritted. Eyes screwed shut. She sounded pained but her body shuddered and reacted harmlessly. His hand came away slick and her legs were trembling. He braced her gently by the shoulders and she made a strangled noise, like a sob.
Safin reached into his shirt and produced the vial. He tapped her chin. Madeleine's eyes snapped up.
This, he said very softly, is the girl's insurance, and yours. And since we know now what you are willing to do, there is no sense in any disagreement between us.
Her mouth trembled. His face set.
Get yourself in order, he said. She will be waiting outside your cell.
In the hallway the girl stood clutching her stuffed animal, pensive. She saw Primo first and tensed. But when she locked eyes with her mother close behind, she chirped and began to run. Madeleine swept the girl into her arms without hesitation and kissed the top of her head, unable to speak.
You have fifteen minutes, said Primo. He wouldn't look her in the eye as the two walked into the cell.
He left them to their business. When the time was up he circled back into the cell. They were sitting together on the bed.
That's all for now, he said.
Mathilde's eyes were wide. Primo walked over, gripped her little forearm. Come along now.
Madeleine raised her head and the naked rage that Safin hadn't seen was directed towards him. For the first time Primo stopped and looked at her.
No harm will come to the girl, he said. Mathilde peered up at him. Primo was only looking at Madeleine. You have my word.
For a second Madeleine's composure faltered, on the verge of breaking but did not. She could barely whisper to the girl: It's going to be all right, I will see you very soon. Primo turned around. Mathilde held her stuffed animal very tightly and looked back to her mother, burying her face in her knees drawn up against her chest. The door closed behind them and the girl did not weep.