'A Stroke of Luck or Gift from God?
The Hand of Fate or Devil's Claw?
From below or Saint's above?
You came to me.'
Garbage; 'A Stroke of Luck'
Days later Ashleigh glanced quickly at the clock and collapsed on the bed. Despite the early hour she was ready to sleep for a week, she stretched and yawned feeling grimy and stiff. It had been a long day, ending with an interrogating video link up with M, and Ashleigh, still feeling shaky from her accident headed for the shower to let the warm jets of water soothe her.
Since her accident it seemed like they had been in constant contact with England. M was equally frustrated with the constant dead ends they were facing and advised them that they should sit tight and let the chaos after the Mariinsky incident die down. The media was howling for information, wanting to know who the terrorists were and why a minister such as Vaskov had been targeted. Now they did nothing but research, James was ready to go through the roof; disapproving of such passive techniques, feeling as if his natural instincts were being restrained by bureaucracy. Quickly she slipped into her pale blue striped pyjama bottoms, teaming them with a vest. She would sit up for a little while and catch the news at home before she slept.
All doom and gloom. It was bloody depressing, and Ashleigh found herself yawning even more. Desperate to hear a friendly voice she turned on her mobile phone, her gaze falling briefly on the other phone in her possession, sleek, silver and silent, given to her by Alec and infuriatingly quiet. On her own phone a message beeped through, her friend Evie asking her when she would be back in the UK. She sighed grumpily, when Hell froze over or when the world was saved again, whatever came quicker she supposed. Another glance at the clock confirmed her hope, it wasn't too late to phone England, and Evie's sense of humour would be the perfect thing to cheer her up. Almost immediately it clicked to the answer phone. How could she have forgotten? Her friends had a life outside of work; it was only Ashleigh who didn't. Once a long time ago she did, but now she could barely remember it. With a little mutter she collapsed back onto the bed.
*
The previous day a man walked into Elliot Enterprises, and smiled at the receptionist behind the desk. It was a pretty redhead there, Rebekah no longer worked at E.E. With devastatingly charming motion, a business card was produced, would it be possible for Ms. Elliot to contact him, he wished to take such a fascinating woman out to dinner while he was in St. Petersburg. The pretty redhead deciding that if she was on the receiving end of such an offer she would have accepted immediately scampered into Ms. Elliot's office. Sheer curiosity drove the voluptuous blonde out, her fabulous curves highlighted to perfection by the expensive suit to face the man who had made such a confident gesture. She was not disappointed; the man was tall, dark and elegantly dressed, carrying himself well, and had a roguish smile. When he asked her to dinner himself she accepted almost immediately, why not? So now she had agreed to meet him at his hotel, dressed in a beautiful, slinky black dress, smiling up at her dinner date. James smiled back, offered her his arm and led her to the waiting taxi.
*
The knock on the door surprised her. Only half ten at night, but still too late for visitors. She supposed it was James and clambered off the bed.
It wasn't James. Pulling open the door, one hand over her mouth to cover a yawn and hopefully James would get the message. She froze. Alec? What the hell was he doing there? She stared at him in silence, unable to form any coherent words, acutely aware she wore no make up and her hair was wild. She felt vulnerable, dressed only in thin cotton; her vest had risen up to expose her pale midriff, and clung to her high breasts. Alec on then other hand was dressed in a charcoal suit and a grey blue shirt, he was calm and composed compared to sleepy appearance. As he looked her up and down a smirk came onto his face.
'I had thought to take you to dinner, but I'm obviously too late.'
With some difficulty she forced the words out. 'What are you doing here? If James saw you...'
'If James were here to see me. He's just left though, an attractive blonde on his arm. I think he might be occupied for some time.'
She came to her senses and glancing up and down the corridor she took a step towards him and slid her hands into his jacket, checking for a weapon. She was taking no chances. He realised, with another smirk, what she was doing and spread his arms wide to allow her freer access. Crouching she ran her hands up his muscled calves, noticing his boots were Italian and made of very soft leather. His suit was well cut, and he wore the same cool and fresh scent that had haunted her since she last smelt it. Breathing it in she stood, feeling her head reel at his close proximity, hating the way he made her feel. She wondered if she threw herself at him now and begged him to drag her into the room and throw her onto the bed, would he say 'yes'? She snapped back to reality and met his eyes once more.
'I'm clean,' he said raising an eyebrow, 'I don't usually carry a weapon out to dinner.'
Crossing her arms over her chest, hoping to cover some of it up, she frowned. 'Isn't it far too late for dinner?'
'It all depends on whether you've eaten or not.'
As a matter of fact she hadn't. And the thought of a meal out was making her mouth water. But she didn't let it faze her. 'I haven't yet. But I'm not sure this is a good idea Alec. Maybe I should just order room service,' she made to close the door between them, but Alec took a step forward, deftly blocking the path of the door, one arm leaning casually against the frame.
'I told you I'd see you again,' he whispered, reaching to stroke her cheek. 'Come out with me. Its just dinner.'
'I'm not dressed.'
'Well, yes, but I could meet you in the bar in twenty minutes,' he dragged his eyes up from her stomach, 'But I think you look just fine.'
She managed a smile 'Fifteen minutes will be fine.' She closed the door on him.
*
So far the conversation had been focused on mundane business talk, but Bond managed to resist a smile as a small foot slid up his calf. Things were going well.
*
Fifteen minutes had nearly passed, nursing a tonic water Alec was slumped on a sofa, wondering if she was going to turn up, when Ashleigh walked in. He sat up straight, her dark hair was falling over one eye, she wore a black satin pencil skirt and a black mandarin collared top. Her kohled eyes flashed in his direction and her glossy lips smiled at him. She paused, just inside the door, making sure he saw her, and then turned. She was making him chase her for once, and he would let her. For now.
Outside the hotel, a car was waiting for them. It was the car that Ashleigh had crashed in, and she checked slightly at the sight of it. Without a word though, she walked round to where a doorman was holding the door for her, and slid in. Alec drove, cruising on near empty roads through the city. Ashleigh sat in silence, watching the night life outside, people moving from pub to club, laughing and smiling. Her face was half in shadow, she still didn't speak and he didn't make her. He would glance at her sometimes, and fight back the urge to run his hand along the length of her leg, when they stopped at lights, he resisted leaning over to kiss her. He hated the weakness she aroused in him.
They pulled up at another hotel, where they would dine in a suite of rooms, organised on a whim when Alec had decided he wanted another night with her. He enjoyed her company, particularly in bed, and he told himself that was it. Nothing else. When she had opened the door, he had nearly turned and left, she had seemed so young and innocent, and he remembered what a dangerous game he was playing. But then he had seen the curve of her belly and the shape of her breasts, and he knew then he couldn't leave. Dinner however was now not his main plan for the evening.
The room was simple and elegant, Alec hated anything to fussy, and he sensed Ashleigh did too. A bottle of wine had been left in their room, opened to breathe, and poured by the discreet waiter who brought their food. He left the couple in peace. Ashleigh suddenly discovered she was ravenous, and Alec seeing this, passed her a glass of wine. As he did so he suddenly noticed the cut healing on her temple, the bruise livid against her skin, the hair pushed forward to hide it. Placing the glass down, he reached up and brushed her hair from her face to examine it. She winced and pulled away.
'Still hurts?' he asked quietly.
'A little. Its bearable.' She played with her fork nervously. 'The car was a wreck.'
He shrugged. 'It was fixed as you saw. Did you find out who was in the other car?'
She looked up at him .her eyes dark. 'I thought you would know.'
'Somebody must have seen you leave with me. You're a new target. People are out to get you.'
'Evidently.'
'Listen to me, Ashleigh. I played this game for a long time, its far more dangerous than you could ever know. You risk your life every day, every minute, waiting for your enemy's bullet. And believe me, there is one out there with your name on it. That crash could have easily killed you, it was meant to, yet you walk away with a few cuts and bruises through sheer damned luck. James was frightened for you. I could see that. Why do you want to risk your life like this?'
'You're asking me that? I'm an agent for MI6 - its my job. I risk my life because I choose to.'
Alec sighed. 'Because of your father?'
She shrugged. 'I don't know. I was twenty one when I first read the files on my father, M gave them to me. Straight out of university. Within six months I went from reading Marlowe and Webster to firing a gun and breaking codes.' She suddenly discovered the urge to talk, the words tumbling from her mouth, and Alec sensing her need, let her talk. 'My friends have no idea what I do. They all hear the same old cover story, I work for a large cooperation called Universal Exports, based in the city. I do this, because I want to do this, and because I no longer have a choice, its my career.'
'You could be killed...'
'Like my father?' she snapped, cutting off his sentence, 'Like you? I'm well aware of the risks, as you were.'
For a while Alec was silent, sipping his wine. 'Do you judge me?'
'Why on earth would I judge you? You betrayed everyone you were close to. You tried to destroy London. You've managed to convince the world that you were dead, not once, but twice.' The next words came before she could stop them. 'Its a bigger achievement than most of the men I've slept with.'
'Are you sleeping with anyone else at the moment?' Like her, he seemed unable to stop himself from asking.
Apart from you? She thought, her eyes narrowing. 'Not really. Being an international spy takes up a lot of my spare time.'
'The rugby player?' so casually asked.
'What about him? Have you been checking up on me?' her lip curled. 'Old habits die hard, Alec. Once a spy, always a spy.'
For a while he was quiet, simply looking at her. 'I know a lot of things about you Ash. Your birthday is the 28th October, making you a scorpio, but you don't believe in horoscopes. You were educated at Westerly, a co-ed public school in Devon, excelling in English and Sciences. Deputy captain of the hockey team. You read English at the University of Bath, and lived in the city for a year after completing your degree. You now live alone in London, and have a small select group of friends that you don't see very often. And the rugby player,'
If she was unnerved by his knowledge of her life, she didn't show it. 'Very thorough. As for the rugby player, he's a friend. Known him for years. A boyfriend at university, it didn't last. How did you know about him?'
He couldn't resist a smug smirk. 'I didn't. I guessed. Intuition. Psychological profiling might be a more modern term. You're an active woman, went to a sports orientated university, and your father loved the game. You've probably learnt something of the game from him. As you said, once a spy and all that.'
She smiled in spite of herself. 'When I was in training, we used you as a case study. The agent gone bad and out for revenge.'
He was amused at this. 'Really? And what did you learn?' It was interesting his name lived on in infamy.
'Your parents were Lienz Cossacks, searching for protection from England, like many others you were betrayed, and your father couldn't live with the guilt, taking both your mother's and his own life. You lived, and grew up to join MI6, eventually proving yourself, and becoming 006. You and 007 infiltrated the Arkeangel Weapons Store in the then USSR, where you were captured and executed. James escaped, in one of his many daring ways. You were honoured as a hero. It was a devastating blow to MI6 losing one of their 00 agents. Years later a new power is rising in Russia, the Janus crime syndicate, headed by mysterious man calling himself Janus, the two faced Roman God. The Goldeneye device is targeted and traced to Janus by James. He was horrified to discover Janus is you. The betrayed had become the betrayer. You're traced to the Caribbean and Alec Trevelyan is killed for a second time. MI6 breathes a sigh of relief and you become a case study. The effects of your personal history upon your psyche.'
She had seen the flare of pain in Alec's eyes at the mention of his parents and now she stopped speaking. He breathed deeply, his grip tightening upon his wine glass, until suddenly he gave a harsh laugh. 'My life. Summarised so briefly.'
She needed to connect with him, to explain herself. 'I live in your shadow,' she spoke quietly, and he could hear the seriousness in her voice. 'Three men influenced my life, my father, James and you.'
She looked at him, and he was hit by her resemblance to her father. 'My father's name follows me wherever I go, the hero, David Kain, 009. As for who my godfather is, well, that's common knowledge in MI6. Through them, I'm associated with you. And all the time, because of who I am, I'm expected to be a great agent. M is convinced that I shall become a wild card like James, reckless, a risk taker, a rule breaker, but I'm not so sure. I think I shall be like you, before your defection of course. I shall do my job, I shall do it calmly, and I shall get results. That is my way with dealing with all of this, to remember that this is simply a job, nothing more, nothing less, my chosen career.'
'Don't you feel anger for your father's death?'
'Of course I do! But its a pointless anger. I might as well feel angry at the cancer that killed my mother. My father's death was as a result of his work. I can get angry, I can try to take revenge, or I can get on with my own life.'
She leant forward. 'I'm not one for psychobabble Alec,' Ashleigh's tone was cool, her gaze hard, 'But I believe that we all make our own choices, the out come of which we have to live with. Your father made a choice that destroyed him, destroyed your mother and damaged you beyond belief. Revenge was your choice, and now you live with the consequences. I could have easily gone the same way as you - avenged my father's death, my revenge upon his killers who took him away from me. I was angry enough to do so. But I couldn't, because in the end my father chose that life, to be a 00 agent. I tortured myself with all the 'what ifs'. What if he had been a business man, like I thought he was? He could have easily been killed in a freak act of terrorism, or a 'normal father' who could have been killed in a car accident like one of his closest friends.'
She reached for his face, resting her hand along his jaw, her thumb slowly stroking his scars.
'Alec Trevelyan, tragically killed in a head on collision in Russia, while working for Universal Exports. It happened three months after I first met you, twelve years old and so in awe of you and so shy I could barely speak. Your death effected my father, and it effected me. Six months later my father takes a bullet between the eyes, executed just like you. And just like you, the official story is a car crash. The irony isn't lost on me.'
He stayed silent, just staring into her dark eyes, so close to his. The rich warmth of them reflected the candle flames, she held his gaze steadily but there was something set in her jaw, and he thought he saw her lips tremble. He let her speak.
'So what do I do? I join the organization that my father worked for. I do the same job that led to his death. My choice. I don't have a license to kill, but I can kill if my life is compromised. I killed my first man when I was twenty three, during one of my first solo missions, and it was the first time I was involved in a physical fight. A guard tried to strangle me, we grappled, I broke free, pulled my gun and shot him in the throat. I was only about a metre away, drenched in his blood. I couldn't think about that man's death, not while I had a mission to complete. So I finished, came home, and that weekend went out with my friends. On e of my rare 'normal' nights. In a nightclub bathroom, I catch a glimpse of my reflection and I saw blood on my face. My imagination playing tricks on me, but it scared me so badly that I couldn't stop crying. My friends tried to calm me down, thinking it was a failed romance or over some man, and I couldn't explain to them that I was a cold blooded killer. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, not all of the psychological evaluations they make you sit through, that moment when you realise you are a killer. I was so sick. All I could think of was this man. Did he have a daughter at home, waiting for her daddy to return? Had I become the same nameless killer as the man who killed my father? But I continued, I carried on, and I've killed since. That's my choice. I live with the consequences of my actions, and deal with them, because if I don't, they'll destroy me.'
'And now?' he hadn't spoken for a while and his voice was husky.
'Tonight?'
He nodded.
'I choose you.'
The Hand of Fate or Devil's Claw?
From below or Saint's above?
You came to me.'
Garbage; 'A Stroke of Luck'
Days later Ashleigh glanced quickly at the clock and collapsed on the bed. Despite the early hour she was ready to sleep for a week, she stretched and yawned feeling grimy and stiff. It had been a long day, ending with an interrogating video link up with M, and Ashleigh, still feeling shaky from her accident headed for the shower to let the warm jets of water soothe her.
Since her accident it seemed like they had been in constant contact with England. M was equally frustrated with the constant dead ends they were facing and advised them that they should sit tight and let the chaos after the Mariinsky incident die down. The media was howling for information, wanting to know who the terrorists were and why a minister such as Vaskov had been targeted. Now they did nothing but research, James was ready to go through the roof; disapproving of such passive techniques, feeling as if his natural instincts were being restrained by bureaucracy. Quickly she slipped into her pale blue striped pyjama bottoms, teaming them with a vest. She would sit up for a little while and catch the news at home before she slept.
All doom and gloom. It was bloody depressing, and Ashleigh found herself yawning even more. Desperate to hear a friendly voice she turned on her mobile phone, her gaze falling briefly on the other phone in her possession, sleek, silver and silent, given to her by Alec and infuriatingly quiet. On her own phone a message beeped through, her friend Evie asking her when she would be back in the UK. She sighed grumpily, when Hell froze over or when the world was saved again, whatever came quicker she supposed. Another glance at the clock confirmed her hope, it wasn't too late to phone England, and Evie's sense of humour would be the perfect thing to cheer her up. Almost immediately it clicked to the answer phone. How could she have forgotten? Her friends had a life outside of work; it was only Ashleigh who didn't. Once a long time ago she did, but now she could barely remember it. With a little mutter she collapsed back onto the bed.
*
The previous day a man walked into Elliot Enterprises, and smiled at the receptionist behind the desk. It was a pretty redhead there, Rebekah no longer worked at E.E. With devastatingly charming motion, a business card was produced, would it be possible for Ms. Elliot to contact him, he wished to take such a fascinating woman out to dinner while he was in St. Petersburg. The pretty redhead deciding that if she was on the receiving end of such an offer she would have accepted immediately scampered into Ms. Elliot's office. Sheer curiosity drove the voluptuous blonde out, her fabulous curves highlighted to perfection by the expensive suit to face the man who had made such a confident gesture. She was not disappointed; the man was tall, dark and elegantly dressed, carrying himself well, and had a roguish smile. When he asked her to dinner himself she accepted almost immediately, why not? So now she had agreed to meet him at his hotel, dressed in a beautiful, slinky black dress, smiling up at her dinner date. James smiled back, offered her his arm and led her to the waiting taxi.
*
The knock on the door surprised her. Only half ten at night, but still too late for visitors. She supposed it was James and clambered off the bed.
It wasn't James. Pulling open the door, one hand over her mouth to cover a yawn and hopefully James would get the message. She froze. Alec? What the hell was he doing there? She stared at him in silence, unable to form any coherent words, acutely aware she wore no make up and her hair was wild. She felt vulnerable, dressed only in thin cotton; her vest had risen up to expose her pale midriff, and clung to her high breasts. Alec on then other hand was dressed in a charcoal suit and a grey blue shirt, he was calm and composed compared to sleepy appearance. As he looked her up and down a smirk came onto his face.
'I had thought to take you to dinner, but I'm obviously too late.'
With some difficulty she forced the words out. 'What are you doing here? If James saw you...'
'If James were here to see me. He's just left though, an attractive blonde on his arm. I think he might be occupied for some time.'
She came to her senses and glancing up and down the corridor she took a step towards him and slid her hands into his jacket, checking for a weapon. She was taking no chances. He realised, with another smirk, what she was doing and spread his arms wide to allow her freer access. Crouching she ran her hands up his muscled calves, noticing his boots were Italian and made of very soft leather. His suit was well cut, and he wore the same cool and fresh scent that had haunted her since she last smelt it. Breathing it in she stood, feeling her head reel at his close proximity, hating the way he made her feel. She wondered if she threw herself at him now and begged him to drag her into the room and throw her onto the bed, would he say 'yes'? She snapped back to reality and met his eyes once more.
'I'm clean,' he said raising an eyebrow, 'I don't usually carry a weapon out to dinner.'
Crossing her arms over her chest, hoping to cover some of it up, she frowned. 'Isn't it far too late for dinner?'
'It all depends on whether you've eaten or not.'
As a matter of fact she hadn't. And the thought of a meal out was making her mouth water. But she didn't let it faze her. 'I haven't yet. But I'm not sure this is a good idea Alec. Maybe I should just order room service,' she made to close the door between them, but Alec took a step forward, deftly blocking the path of the door, one arm leaning casually against the frame.
'I told you I'd see you again,' he whispered, reaching to stroke her cheek. 'Come out with me. Its just dinner.'
'I'm not dressed.'
'Well, yes, but I could meet you in the bar in twenty minutes,' he dragged his eyes up from her stomach, 'But I think you look just fine.'
She managed a smile 'Fifteen minutes will be fine.' She closed the door on him.
*
So far the conversation had been focused on mundane business talk, but Bond managed to resist a smile as a small foot slid up his calf. Things were going well.
*
Fifteen minutes had nearly passed, nursing a tonic water Alec was slumped on a sofa, wondering if she was going to turn up, when Ashleigh walked in. He sat up straight, her dark hair was falling over one eye, she wore a black satin pencil skirt and a black mandarin collared top. Her kohled eyes flashed in his direction and her glossy lips smiled at him. She paused, just inside the door, making sure he saw her, and then turned. She was making him chase her for once, and he would let her. For now.
Outside the hotel, a car was waiting for them. It was the car that Ashleigh had crashed in, and she checked slightly at the sight of it. Without a word though, she walked round to where a doorman was holding the door for her, and slid in. Alec drove, cruising on near empty roads through the city. Ashleigh sat in silence, watching the night life outside, people moving from pub to club, laughing and smiling. Her face was half in shadow, she still didn't speak and he didn't make her. He would glance at her sometimes, and fight back the urge to run his hand along the length of her leg, when they stopped at lights, he resisted leaning over to kiss her. He hated the weakness she aroused in him.
They pulled up at another hotel, where they would dine in a suite of rooms, organised on a whim when Alec had decided he wanted another night with her. He enjoyed her company, particularly in bed, and he told himself that was it. Nothing else. When she had opened the door, he had nearly turned and left, she had seemed so young and innocent, and he remembered what a dangerous game he was playing. But then he had seen the curve of her belly and the shape of her breasts, and he knew then he couldn't leave. Dinner however was now not his main plan for the evening.
The room was simple and elegant, Alec hated anything to fussy, and he sensed Ashleigh did too. A bottle of wine had been left in their room, opened to breathe, and poured by the discreet waiter who brought their food. He left the couple in peace. Ashleigh suddenly discovered she was ravenous, and Alec seeing this, passed her a glass of wine. As he did so he suddenly noticed the cut healing on her temple, the bruise livid against her skin, the hair pushed forward to hide it. Placing the glass down, he reached up and brushed her hair from her face to examine it. She winced and pulled away.
'Still hurts?' he asked quietly.
'A little. Its bearable.' She played with her fork nervously. 'The car was a wreck.'
He shrugged. 'It was fixed as you saw. Did you find out who was in the other car?'
She looked up at him .her eyes dark. 'I thought you would know.'
'Somebody must have seen you leave with me. You're a new target. People are out to get you.'
'Evidently.'
'Listen to me, Ashleigh. I played this game for a long time, its far more dangerous than you could ever know. You risk your life every day, every minute, waiting for your enemy's bullet. And believe me, there is one out there with your name on it. That crash could have easily killed you, it was meant to, yet you walk away with a few cuts and bruises through sheer damned luck. James was frightened for you. I could see that. Why do you want to risk your life like this?'
'You're asking me that? I'm an agent for MI6 - its my job. I risk my life because I choose to.'
Alec sighed. 'Because of your father?'
She shrugged. 'I don't know. I was twenty one when I first read the files on my father, M gave them to me. Straight out of university. Within six months I went from reading Marlowe and Webster to firing a gun and breaking codes.' She suddenly discovered the urge to talk, the words tumbling from her mouth, and Alec sensing her need, let her talk. 'My friends have no idea what I do. They all hear the same old cover story, I work for a large cooperation called Universal Exports, based in the city. I do this, because I want to do this, and because I no longer have a choice, its my career.'
'You could be killed...'
'Like my father?' she snapped, cutting off his sentence, 'Like you? I'm well aware of the risks, as you were.'
For a while Alec was silent, sipping his wine. 'Do you judge me?'
'Why on earth would I judge you? You betrayed everyone you were close to. You tried to destroy London. You've managed to convince the world that you were dead, not once, but twice.' The next words came before she could stop them. 'Its a bigger achievement than most of the men I've slept with.'
'Are you sleeping with anyone else at the moment?' Like her, he seemed unable to stop himself from asking.
Apart from you? She thought, her eyes narrowing. 'Not really. Being an international spy takes up a lot of my spare time.'
'The rugby player?' so casually asked.
'What about him? Have you been checking up on me?' her lip curled. 'Old habits die hard, Alec. Once a spy, always a spy.'
For a while he was quiet, simply looking at her. 'I know a lot of things about you Ash. Your birthday is the 28th October, making you a scorpio, but you don't believe in horoscopes. You were educated at Westerly, a co-ed public school in Devon, excelling in English and Sciences. Deputy captain of the hockey team. You read English at the University of Bath, and lived in the city for a year after completing your degree. You now live alone in London, and have a small select group of friends that you don't see very often. And the rugby player,'
If she was unnerved by his knowledge of her life, she didn't show it. 'Very thorough. As for the rugby player, he's a friend. Known him for years. A boyfriend at university, it didn't last. How did you know about him?'
He couldn't resist a smug smirk. 'I didn't. I guessed. Intuition. Psychological profiling might be a more modern term. You're an active woman, went to a sports orientated university, and your father loved the game. You've probably learnt something of the game from him. As you said, once a spy and all that.'
She smiled in spite of herself. 'When I was in training, we used you as a case study. The agent gone bad and out for revenge.'
He was amused at this. 'Really? And what did you learn?' It was interesting his name lived on in infamy.
'Your parents were Lienz Cossacks, searching for protection from England, like many others you were betrayed, and your father couldn't live with the guilt, taking both your mother's and his own life. You lived, and grew up to join MI6, eventually proving yourself, and becoming 006. You and 007 infiltrated the Arkeangel Weapons Store in the then USSR, where you were captured and executed. James escaped, in one of his many daring ways. You were honoured as a hero. It was a devastating blow to MI6 losing one of their 00 agents. Years later a new power is rising in Russia, the Janus crime syndicate, headed by mysterious man calling himself Janus, the two faced Roman God. The Goldeneye device is targeted and traced to Janus by James. He was horrified to discover Janus is you. The betrayed had become the betrayer. You're traced to the Caribbean and Alec Trevelyan is killed for a second time. MI6 breathes a sigh of relief and you become a case study. The effects of your personal history upon your psyche.'
She had seen the flare of pain in Alec's eyes at the mention of his parents and now she stopped speaking. He breathed deeply, his grip tightening upon his wine glass, until suddenly he gave a harsh laugh. 'My life. Summarised so briefly.'
She needed to connect with him, to explain herself. 'I live in your shadow,' she spoke quietly, and he could hear the seriousness in her voice. 'Three men influenced my life, my father, James and you.'
She looked at him, and he was hit by her resemblance to her father. 'My father's name follows me wherever I go, the hero, David Kain, 009. As for who my godfather is, well, that's common knowledge in MI6. Through them, I'm associated with you. And all the time, because of who I am, I'm expected to be a great agent. M is convinced that I shall become a wild card like James, reckless, a risk taker, a rule breaker, but I'm not so sure. I think I shall be like you, before your defection of course. I shall do my job, I shall do it calmly, and I shall get results. That is my way with dealing with all of this, to remember that this is simply a job, nothing more, nothing less, my chosen career.'
'Don't you feel anger for your father's death?'
'Of course I do! But its a pointless anger. I might as well feel angry at the cancer that killed my mother. My father's death was as a result of his work. I can get angry, I can try to take revenge, or I can get on with my own life.'
She leant forward. 'I'm not one for psychobabble Alec,' Ashleigh's tone was cool, her gaze hard, 'But I believe that we all make our own choices, the out come of which we have to live with. Your father made a choice that destroyed him, destroyed your mother and damaged you beyond belief. Revenge was your choice, and now you live with the consequences. I could have easily gone the same way as you - avenged my father's death, my revenge upon his killers who took him away from me. I was angry enough to do so. But I couldn't, because in the end my father chose that life, to be a 00 agent. I tortured myself with all the 'what ifs'. What if he had been a business man, like I thought he was? He could have easily been killed in a freak act of terrorism, or a 'normal father' who could have been killed in a car accident like one of his closest friends.'
She reached for his face, resting her hand along his jaw, her thumb slowly stroking his scars.
'Alec Trevelyan, tragically killed in a head on collision in Russia, while working for Universal Exports. It happened three months after I first met you, twelve years old and so in awe of you and so shy I could barely speak. Your death effected my father, and it effected me. Six months later my father takes a bullet between the eyes, executed just like you. And just like you, the official story is a car crash. The irony isn't lost on me.'
He stayed silent, just staring into her dark eyes, so close to his. The rich warmth of them reflected the candle flames, she held his gaze steadily but there was something set in her jaw, and he thought he saw her lips tremble. He let her speak.
'So what do I do? I join the organization that my father worked for. I do the same job that led to his death. My choice. I don't have a license to kill, but I can kill if my life is compromised. I killed my first man when I was twenty three, during one of my first solo missions, and it was the first time I was involved in a physical fight. A guard tried to strangle me, we grappled, I broke free, pulled my gun and shot him in the throat. I was only about a metre away, drenched in his blood. I couldn't think about that man's death, not while I had a mission to complete. So I finished, came home, and that weekend went out with my friends. On e of my rare 'normal' nights. In a nightclub bathroom, I catch a glimpse of my reflection and I saw blood on my face. My imagination playing tricks on me, but it scared me so badly that I couldn't stop crying. My friends tried to calm me down, thinking it was a failed romance or over some man, and I couldn't explain to them that I was a cold blooded killer. Nothing can prepare you for that moment, not all of the psychological evaluations they make you sit through, that moment when you realise you are a killer. I was so sick. All I could think of was this man. Did he have a daughter at home, waiting for her daddy to return? Had I become the same nameless killer as the man who killed my father? But I continued, I carried on, and I've killed since. That's my choice. I live with the consequences of my actions, and deal with them, because if I don't, they'll destroy me.'
'And now?' he hadn't spoken for a while and his voice was husky.
'Tonight?'
He nodded.
'I choose you.'