Disclaimer: James Bond is the creation of Ian Fleming. The characters in the story are the property of Ian Fleming and United Artists, MGM, Eon. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is gained by this work.
A/N: Some lines, especially during the scene in the statue park, are quoted from the movie.
Beta: none

Mind Control
By Iolana Khenemet
An Alternate Universe fiction inspired by the movie Goldeneye
October 2005-2006

One

Alec had dismissed James' worries with the witty remark that half of everything was luck but he had to admit that entering the heart of the Archangel'sk chemical weapons facility had been surprisingly easy. He ignored the feeling of dread that was creeping up his spine and plugged Q's device into the ID card slot to seal the door.

From one moment to the next Alec did not know what he was doing there or why he was doing it. Had he accidentally inhaled some of the lethal nerve gas stored in here? A shrill alarm and a red light penetrated the fog clouding his mind. 006 shook his head and stormed downstairs, James close behind him.

006 had been shooting at the Soviets, his semi-automatic spitting bullets at everyone who dared to approach, when the Soviet Colonel shouted, "I'm Colonel Ourumov. Come out with your hands above your heads!" 006 resisted laughing. Just how stupid was that idiot?

Suddenly Alec found himself kneeling unarmed under Ourumov's gun with no idea how he had come there. Uncomprehending and breathing hard, he stared up into the gun barrel. Frightened, he glanced around for James and was relieved that his friend was still alive and free.

Ourumov started counting.

Oh, no - 007 had given up his cover and was coming out to save his life. Alec had to act quickly to prevent this from happening. Sure that it would be the very last deed of his life, he shouted, "For England, James!"

Colonel Ourumov fired and 006 collapsed as if someone had cut the strings of a puppet.

Two

Agony woke Trevelyan and he screamed. Half-crazed from the pain, he tried to get away from whatever was hurting him. He writhed in his bounds, pulled at the straps holding his body to the table and screamed until his throat was feeling raw. God, even breathing hurt. Alec gasped when tears of pain spilled from his eyes, the salty water stinging horribly in the burnt flesh. Who had done that to him? "James," he begged, "help me." Where was James - and where was he?

After endless hours of suffering he found Colonel Ourumov staring down at him. 006 realised that he had been taken prisoner and he clenched his fists even more than he already did. Feeling that something sinister must have been at work, Trevelyan whispered, "How?"

"Mind control and a blank. And so the lost son of Russia returns."

"What?" Alec winced. Speaking was not a good idea.

"Never heard about the town Lienz in Austria and the Cossacks in 1945?" Ourumov smirked. "Then you'll learn a lot about yourself while you're here. Be our guest, Janus."

Alec felt a needle stab his arm. Reality shattered when whatever substance was being pumped into him reached his brain.

The Colonel spoke to someone Alec could not see, his voice coming from very far away. "Some well-dosed conditioning and a new chip in his head and the mind control will be perfect. Right now, it is just the prototype chip which is making him do what we want and which has with limited functionality. It worked close-range yesterday, but when we're done with him, he'll operate completely under our control."

006 still heard the words but already they meant nothing to him. For the next days - or were it years – he could only watch as more and more pieces of his personality drifted away like icebergs lost at see.

Three

Years later, Janus met 007 on a graveyard for decaying Soviet statues. Almost casually he greeted his former friend, "Hello, James."

Bond stopped, rooted to the spot. The stunned expression on James' face was priceless. "Alec?" he whispered.

"Back from the dead. No longer just an anonymous star on the memorial wall at MI-6." Janus could not hold back the bitter mocking. "What's the matter, James? No glib remark? No pithy comeback?"

But Bond just asked, "Why...?"

Janus laughed. "Hilarious question, particularly from you. Would you ever ask why? Why we -"

"I'm asking now."

"Because you left me there; you didn't get me out." Janus blinked. Why had he said that? The words were out of his mouth faster than he could think. Janus shook his head to get rid of the sudden buzzing in his ears.

Bond's anger finally got the better of him. "I though you were shot!" he yelled. "Besides, that's hardly the point since you arranged all that! Everything at Archangel'sk was faked by you!"

"Liar!" Janus shouted back, fed up with the way the conversation had turned. "Closing time, James. Last call!"

On this code word, a tranquilizer hit Bond's neck before he could aim and he collapsed.

Janus went over to Bond. "For England, James." He swayed and dropped to his knees, clutching his head. After a moment the pain passed and he stood.

Two of his henchmen approached. "Shall we put him and Simonova into the tiger helicopter?"

The noise in Janus' ears was back. "Leave them both here. The NKV will take care of them. Tell Xenia to fly the Tiger to our old warehouse." With that said, Janus left the rusting place.

Rough hands grabbed Janus the moment he entered his train and shoved him against the cold metallic wall.

"Are they dead?" The stranger demanded to know.

Janus gulped in sudden fright. He knew who was pinning him, recognised the man from his nightmares. Grigory, wasn't it? "I left them to the Russian Secret Service. They should –"

"Idiot!" The man shoved him again against the wall. "They were supposed to die!"

Following an entirely irrational impulse, Janus struggled to break free. Pain shot through him, a pain that he knew so well. The pain was so intense, that he dropped to his knees. He could not even scream and much less attack. "No," he begged, when Grigory left but like the other times - other times? – the other man just smiled. When the door to the coach was closed behind them, the familiar pain that would last all night and plague him for days returned, searing from his head to every fibre of his body.

Four

They fought several hundred feet above the satellite dish, Janus and Bond, once brothers-in-arms, now archenemies. Bond fought for his country, Janus for revenge and both fought for dear life. They shot and missed, kicked and punched to kill each other, blocked the other's attack in return.

Somehow Bond got hold of his arm, twisted it and pushed. Janus screamed when the bone broke. But adrenalin and the prospect to kill Bond kept the pain at bay, so he fought on as he had been taught. The gun was lying right over there…Somehow Janus got a hold on it. He needed his left arm to hold his weapon arm straight, but since he was the one with the gun, who cared?

"You know, James, I was always better." Janus pulled the trigger. Only a click was the result. He had run out of bullets.

Bond lurched forward and pushed Janus against the wall. Janus' head connected with it hard. All of a sudden excruciating pain shot through him. Screaming, he collapsed. All thoughts about Bond gone, Janus writhed on the floor, the other man nothing but a blurred image over him. He arched his back when another spasm ripped through him. A boot on his shoulder pinned him down. Gasping, Janus groped for help, dug his fingers into the fabric of Bond's pair of trousers and pulled helplessly. "James," he whispered before darkness consumed him.

Five

So close - he had come so close to teach Britain a lesson. Now he was tied to a medical bed andhurting all over. Wherever he was, Janus was sure his stay would not be enjoyable. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and winced. Couldn't fucking Bond have at least had the honour to kill him? At least he would not have to cope with this headache…

Footsteps approached, and he tensed. He knew that woman…Mawdsly, Barbara Mawdsly, wasn't it? She had worked in the personnel department and also as a situation analyst at MI-6. Rumour had it she had replaced M. So it was MI-6 holding him, and it seemed it was only a question of time until he was interrogated and disposed of.

"We need to talk," she said.

Janus smiled wryly. This was getting better by the minute. "I wouldn't know what about."

"About this." She took a remote control and pushed a button. A holographic image of a skull appeared in the middle of the room. "This is yours. And this –" M zoomed in on a part of the neck region. "Is what I'd like to discuss."

Janus stiffened. It was a small device, a device he had seen before. He stared at it, transfixed. They had shown it to him, Ourumov and the other man, whose face he never remembered although he had seen him more often than he liked. Images replayed in his head and he clenched his eyes shut as best as he could, shuddering. The memory of their laughter, cheerful and cruel while he struggled to fight that thing, rang in his ears. No, no, no - he kept repeating this like a mantra to ward off evil spirits.

"Q suspects it to be some kind of mind control."

His gaze switched between the image and her. Finally, he could stand it no longer. "Remove it, "Alec whispered, shivering.

M nodded and gave a signal. When several doctors approached, Alec spotted James leaving the room. For the first time in years, Alec did associate more than burning hatred with the image. But then pain erupted in his head and his vision tunnelled. Janus bared his teeth. He fought with the restraints but a syringe emptied into the vein of his arm ended his struggle. Darkness took him.

FSB: Federalnaja Sluschba Besopasnosti Rossijskoj Federazii: the inland secret service of Russia that replaced the KGB.