Ashleigh was lost in a deep sleep, feeling warm, and secure within the covers that twisted around her body. She dreamt.
She stood on the top of the stairs in her childhood home, the phone was ringing. She felt a knot of terror deep in her stomach, which intensified as the phone cut off abruptly. She forced the feeling down, already worrying the thumbnail on her left hand; tasting the soap she had washed her hands with earlier, its citrus taste bitter in her mouth. She knew she should be studying, she had to return to school soon, not crouching trying to snatch broken bits of conversation from her father's study. The terror intensified, her father, her father was dead, and this was it, the moment she was told. Slowly she began to descend down the stairs.
No. Her dreaming self tried to break through, to shake her thirteen year old self by the shoulders. No. This wasn't how it happened. She had been at school when she had received news of her father's death, in the middle of a games lesson, playing hockey. She had remembered glancing over her shoulder, seeing her headmistress approach the pitch, the hurried whispered conversation, the girls paused where they stood. The whistle had blown, piercing in the autumn peace, and Miss Lockley, the games mistress had called Ashleigh over. Later Ashleigh would watch from the window of the Headmistress's office at her class as they continued with the game. The words would glide over her as she studied a smudge of red dust from the hockey pitch on her white socks, still clutching her hockey stick furtively, vulnerable in her gym skirt and the bib denoting her position as right forward. A car crash, terribly sorry, someone was coming to pick her up, so tragic, a horribly tragic accident. And so she had become an orphan, and lost her father. She hadn't been in the hall way listening… no she had been at school. She approached the door to her father's office tentatively, her hand rose to knock, creeping in, seeing her father sitting in his huge leather chair, his head in his hands.
'Daddy?' she had asked, scared by his look of despair. He had reached for her, holding her in his arms, stonily silent, until she had pulled away from his uncomfortably tight embrace, and asked 'what, what is it?'. A man had died, a man he knew, his friend, a car crash, and Ashleigh had listened stunned as she had been told Alec Trevelyan was dead. Her father crushed by the loss of his friend, had withdrawn into his work, refusing to speak the name of the dead man. She had not understood his devastation then, but later she had. The betrayal, 006's betrayal of England, and of his friends, her father. He had betrayed her father, and now she lay in his bed….
With a jolt, the sheets sticking to her sweat soaked skin she awoke, the light was just beginning to creep into the room. It took a moment to focus on the room around her, and the memories of the night before to come flooding back.
She glanced around, and discovered to her relief that she was alone, running her hands along the crumpled sheets she found they were cool to her touch; she had slept alone for some time. But the dented pillow and the cool fresh scent that filled the air confirmed that at some point during the night she had shared this bed.
Shakily she stood, wrapping the sheet around her naked body, trying not to let horror rise too far within her, she needed to stay in control. Pulling open a door she found the bathroom and turned the shower on, scalding hot, letting the water pound her as if it would remove the feel of Alec's hands from her body. His taste was in her mouth, the smell of his cologne filled her nostrils, and her skin tingled where he had touched her. Frantically she scrubbed at her skin, until it was almost raw.
Ashleigh had just finished dressing; avoiding looking at the bed when the door had opened and the pale eyed man had entered. She was almost relieved, grateful that it was not Janus returning. Now they eyed each other with distrust, and the hatred of enemies.
'You're bringing me back to my own room?' she asked as civilly as she could considering the situation.
He almost seemed surprised. 'I am to return you to your hotel.'
Ashleigh ignored the mocking tone in his voice. 'I thought I was to be held here as a hostage until further notice?'
'It appears that notice is up.' The man gave a sly glance in the direction of the still crumpled bed.
It would be best not to argue Ashleigh decided; she spun on her heel and headed for the door.
'One moment,' the man held up a thick piece of dark material. 'I have been ordered to blindfold you for the duration of your journey. Janus's orders of course.'
Ashleigh paused, her mouth dry, already feeling starkly vulnerable under his icy gaze. Reluctantly she gave a tiny nod, her permission, and was plunged into darkness as the man tied the knot around her head none too gently. She could feel his hands directing her throughout the maze of the house, stumbling uncertain where to put her feet. The cold hit her sharply as they exited the house, and then a hand was on her head pushing her down, and she was surrounding by the smell of new car.
There was nothing else she could do but merely sit there and try to ignore the horrible dizzy feeling that swirled in her mind. Disorientated, knocked off balance by every change of direction she huddled into the seat, and clenched her fists.
She had been stupid, stupid and seduced. Her hatred of Alec Trevelyan bubbled up within her, only matched by her anger at herself for falling into his bed so quickly. How could she have done it? One flash of those greeny grey eyes and she had shucked her clothes so quickly it was a miracle she hadn't given herself friction burns. Trevelyan, Janus, was a killer, who might have easily have killed her instead of kissing her, and no matter how good it had been, she had made an awful error of judgement. She was no flirty agent who batted her eyes to get information; she prided herself on her intelligence and common sense. Well, it appeared that both had abandoned her last night. She sat and fumed as the car cut through the miles, her traitorous body recalling every single electric touch, every shiver of pleasure that had coursed through her.
The car was slowing, she heard the jerk of the handbrake, and the engine cut out. She frantically tried to untie the blindfold, convinced that she was in the middle of nowhere, and about to find herself nose to barrel with a 9mm. The door next to her opened and rough hands helped to loosen the knot. She jerked away, pulling the cloth from her eyes, and then flushed red as she saw the familiar front of her hotel.
'Did you think I would disobey Janus's orders?' Kristov smirked.
'No, I just wasn't sure what his orders were,' she snapped as she got out of the car.
'For you,' he thrust a small box at her in an insolent manner, 'He thought you might require it at some point.' He got into the car and drove away.
On shaky legs she walked into the hotel, her finger jabbing impatiently at the button for the lift. Reaching her floor she stepped out of the lift, and paused, Dmitrov stood at the other end of the corridor, he glanced at her opened his mouth to speak, but numbly she shook her head and fumbled for her key. Once in she rested against the closed door, drawing in her breath deeply, one hand still clinging onto the box Kristov had forced upon her. Sweat had broken out on her forehead, she suddenly swayed, and threw the box on the bed, seeing the purple oval bruises on her wrist where he had held her, her stomach flipped over, and she ran for the bathroom. It was some time before she could stand again, weakly she sat on the edge of the bed, swallowing deeply, trying to get herself under control again.
Curiousity finally got the better of her, and she opened the box. She had to bite back sudden scream of hysterical laughter as she saw the small silver automatic pistol that lay there, even a loaded clip waiting just ready to be used.
'Slightly more original than flowers or chocolates, Alec,' she smiled to herself darkly, and then jumped as there was a violent knock at the door. Quickly she fumbled open a drawer and rammed the box into it. As she opened the door, an impatient James burst into the room
'Where the hell have you been? Dmitrov has just told me he's only just seen you return, we were worried sick when we couldn't find you last night.'
His anger was white hot, and Ashleigh, used to seeing her godfather as the epitome of coolness, never ruffled, never raising his voice was shocked. Now he stood before her, angry and dominating.
She was still feeling weak, but she stood. 'I've been meeting some very interesting people James.'
'Oh yes?' his tone was dangerous.
'Janus.' She paused to give her words extra effect, enjoying the startled expression that flickered across his face. 'Alec Trevelyan is alive and well and in St. Petersburg.'
'I killed Alec Trevelyan.' He raised a hand. 'He is dead. You are mistaken.'
'So he would like you to think. Again.'
'And you spoke with him? What information do you have to report from Janus? I'm sure you found plenty to talk about.'
'Yes, I spoke with him. He believes he is being framed for the Hermes Virus.'
'It's a bloody miracle he didn't kill you. He's killed for less before.'
She raised her chin defiantly. 'I was treated with the utmost respect. I think he thought we could help each other.'
James's eyes narrowed. 'Alec always treats women with 'the utmost respect'', he mocked her words.
'Like you James?' her words were filled with venom.
'I will have nothing to do with that traitor.' James declared, a shard of ice in his voice. 'Neither do I approve of your 'method' of gathering information.'
He could see her crumpled clothes, the dark circles smudged under her eyes, could well recall the way women would fall into Alec's arms, and had no doubt over where his goddaughter had slept the night before.
'I learnt far more on my back last night than either you or Dmitrov,' she hissed, 'as for my method, I think you'll find it's a tried and tested technique, surprisingly common in the world of espionage. You're not averse to it yourself James, so don't play the innocent virgin with me because it certainly doesn't fit your reputation.'
'You learnt nothing!' Bond was harsh in his words. 'You have no idea what is going on with this case, you put yourself in unnecessary danger for nothing, you stupid girl. And as for Alec, do you think he wanted you for anything other than the fact that you are my goddaughter? He'll use you to get to me.'
She frowned, and took a step closer to Bond, drawing herself to her full height. 'I'm well aware that you're withholding information from me, and I'm doing my best under the circumstances to compensate for that. You'll tell me soon enough, or I'll find out for myself, but I believe you know the identity of the figure we're searching for, so does Dmitrov. As for Alec, I'm quite capable of realising his motives behind his actions, but I was enjoying myself far too much last night to worry about that.'
She spat the words out, refusing to be intimidated. For a moment they glared in deadlock at each other, until Ashleigh could bear it no longer, and turned away.
'Caleb Deronda.' James spoke the name barely above a whisper.
There was a second knock on the door, and Dmitrov peered around it. 'James? They have found a body in the port. We are leaving in five minutes.'
James nodded, and turned to leave. 'Caleb Deronda. You will stay here and find out everything you can about him, and his whereabouts while Dmitrov and I go to the port.'
She was being punished, Ashleigh knew it, but she nodded her assent, the obedient agent once more. James walked up to her, and she froze, wondering what he was going to do. Slowly he moved his head close to hers, smelling her hair, first one side, and then moving across her face, his angry eyes inches away from hers, the other.
'You reek of him,' he snarled and stalked out of the room.