And so the story plods ever on. I sometimes forget that as readers, you have no idea what is happening next, and am somewhat surprised when you all review! So thank you for all of the reviews, and its lovely to know you are enjoying this. Casino Royale has been in my head a lot recently - I'd be very interested to see what Ashleigh would think of the new Bond (if I could make that little plot detail work!), after all, she does seem to have a thing for bad boys with blond hair... But that's another plot line altogether.


Ashleigh sat in the small holding cell and stared at the four walls. The cell was small, shaded, lit only from a small high barred window, but at least it had been whitewashed recently so it was reasonably bright inside. A nice, homely touch Ashleigh thought sarcastically to herself.

She sat on the small, hard bench, the very thin mattress offering little comfort. It was airless in the cell, and hot, she had long since rolled down the top half of her wetsuit, the thick rubber had felt like it was suffocating her skin, making it hot and slightly clammy.

She was worried. Very worried. She had been here for several hours, and knew that evening would be approaching soon. She had watched the single shaft of light creep around the cell, growing shorter as the shadows grew longer, and guessed that it was early evening. Her watch had been taken from her, much to her fury, in the hopes it might identify her. She had worn the Omega since she had been an active agent, and like Alec, had grown curiously attached to it. It was also almost standard issue for most agents, and she knew that it would give her away if someone recognised it.

With a sigh, she drew her knees up to her chest and rested her back against the slightly gritty wall. She heard footsteps approaching, and knew it was the guard making his hourly round.

'You ok?' he asked brusquely.

'Yeah,' she said, lowering her head to her knees. She could taste blood in her mouth from where her regulator had been ripped from it, and the inside of her mouth was stinging.

'Need anything?'

'Some clothes would be nice,' she said, but not that hopefully.

'We'll see.' He had a nice accent, Ashleigh thought, a melodious drawl, not at all like the nasal whine she usually associated with the American accent The guard spoke leisurely, as if there was no hurry with words, even a short sentence could be drawn out. It wasn't quite a Southern drawl, but it was pleasant.

She was going mad.

The guard began to walk away. Suddenly, Ashleigh remembered something. 'The rose!' she called after him, jumping to her feet and dashing over to the door. 'The rose.'

'Huh?' The guard turned to her, looking bewildered, and slightly suspicious, as if he were expecting some kind of trick.

'The Rose. That's all I know. If there's someone called the Rose, I want to talk to him, okay?' Ashleigh smiled hopefully, her fingers curled around the bars.

'Lady, there isn't anyone called the Rose here.'

'The Rose,' Ashleigh said stubbornly. 'You tell whoever is in charge here that I know about the Rose, and I want its protection.'

She could tell the guard thought she was insane, but she didn't care anymore. All her bravado was slipping away from her, she was tired, aching, and the horrible feeling of nausea was creeping up on her again, along with the terrible knowledge that she had abandoned Jasmin, most likely to her death.

The harpoon had definitely hit her, Ashleigh knew that much. Could Jasmin have survived? The idea seemed incredulous, the weapon had hit its target, Jasmin had collapsed. In the water, would survival be prolonged, or would it be shortened? The same thoughts echoed in her head again and again, fighting with all the other horrific sights she had seen in her life. Once more, she had seen death, and found it distasteful.

She hadn't liked Van Dien, the agent. She had found her arrogant, and mistrustful. But Jasmin, as a person? Last night, had it only been last night that they had shared a bottle of wine? Time seemed to have slowed, and now stopped since last night. Last night when Jasmin had almost seemed human.

No. Time had stopped since the moment she had woken and realised that Natasha was gone, that what she had seen before she had hit the floor hard hadn't been a nightmare, that someone had indeed kidnapped her daughter.

Ashleigh leant her cheek against the thick rubber of her wet suited knee. The hole in her heart seemed to grow a little bigger every day that passed without finding Natasha. She had a dreadful ache for her, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around the little girl, smell her thick hair, or to run her fingers through the silky nearly black tresses and plait it into a thick rope. She wanted to read with Natasha, feel the pride that always filled her when she realised just how clever her girl was. She loved the mornings when Natasha would creep into their bed, and the three of them would curl up together, laughing and joking together, but she loved it even more when Alec wasn't there, and it was just she and Natasha in the vast softness of the bed, and she could giggle with her daughter and almost feel like a child herself. To give her all the love that her own mother had given her.

If she found Alec, she would find Natasha.

She had to stay focused, but first of all, she needed to get the hell out of this place.

She shivered, and reached for the thin, but soft blanket that had been left folded on the edge of the bed. She wrapped it round her shoulders, and leant back against the wall once more.

It seemed so far removed from her life of only a few weeks ago. She had spent the days analysing and working on the documents that MI6 frequently shipped to her. She was free to work as she pleased, and spend as much time as she wanted with her daughter. A tutor came to work with Natasha for her schooling, and Ashleigh and Alec would pick up on the rest of her education. Alec was already making noises about sending Natasha away to school in the near future, but neither of their hearts were totally reconciled to that idea.

She lived a life that many others would envy, but right now, trapped in a small cell on an American base, on a communist island, she felt a thrill. She was an agent, had been trained as an agent, and she was thinking as one again.

And when they asked her for her identity, she would stand straight and proud, and declare…

'Hey, lady.'

The voice shook Ashleigh out of her daydream and she realised that she had been dozing, her cheek pressed against the cool of the wall. She jerked awake and glanced around, and saw a new man.

'Yes?' she asked, rubbing the back of her arm over her eyes.

'Nice watch,' the man said, before throwing it at her. Ashleigh fumbled it, caught off guard, and immediately turned it over, checking the back of the case. There were small scratches on the edge of the metal, and she knew that they had pried it open, but at least they had tried to do it carefully.

'British, right?' the man said. He was middle aged, a man whose muscle had started to run to fat some time ago, close cropped hair of non descript colour marked him out as having been military at some point.

'That's right,' Ashleigh said cautiously.

The man grinned, and snapped the gum he was chewing. He was holding a faded blue baseball cap, and he tugged it on now, watching her all the time.

'So what agency are you?' he asked, leaning against the bars of the cell. Ashleigh stared at him. 'Well? Are you Met Police? Or something a little more secretive than that?'

'I'm not saying anything.'

'Sweetheart, you're going to have to talk, or else you're going to be staying here for one hell of a long time.'

'I want to talk to the Rose,' Ashleigh reiterated, and turned her head back to the wall.

The man laughed, a real belly laugh that Ashleigh half expected to end in 'yeee- haw!'. 'The Rose? Who told you about the Rose?'

'A friend of mine. A colleague of mine,' Ashleigh said stubbornly.

'Really.' The word was drawn out into the silence. There was a click of metal of metal, and the man opened the cell with a large set of keys. He wandered into the cell, and perched on the edge of the bench. Ashleigh watched him suspiciously.

'Name's Jack Wade, honey,' he held out a large, meaty hand.

'Pleasure to meet you,' Ashleigh almost smiled, shaking his hand.

'So come on, tell me your name. I know you're a Brit.'

'That's all you know, so far.' this time, Ashleigh did smile.

'Playing hard to get. Just like my second wife,' Wade chuckled.

'Tell me who you are first, Mr. Wade, and I'll think about it.'

Wade leant in close to her. 'Officially, I'm CIA. Unofficially… well, that depends on who is giving me my orders, if you get what you mean.'

Ashleigh nodded, feeling a strange affinity for this larger than life man. Even if he was beginning to invade her personal space.

'I'll do a deal with you,' she said finally.

'Go on.'

'I'll tell you my name,' Ashleigh leant in conspiratorially. 'In exchange for some clothes.'

'And if I say no?'

'Then I die of hypothermia overnight. And you have to explain that to both of our governments.'

Wade laughed again. 'No I won't, sweetheart. No one knows this place even exists. Even the US government is a little bit hazy about what's happening here. You're officially off the radar, lady. But fair is fair. If I get you some clothes, you'll tell me your name. And your organisation.'

'And you'll get me the Rose?'

Wade smirked. 'We'll see about that.'

Fair to his word, Wade returned a few minutes later with a pair of slate blue combats and a faded blue fitted t-shirt, marked with a US logo. Ashleigh grinned, despite herself.

'Turn around,' she said primly, gesturing at him. As he turned, she wriggled into the clothing, grateful to be out of the claustrophobic rubber of the wetsuit.

'Are you going to tell me your name now?' Wade asked once Ashleigh had tugged on the tshirt and straightened it.

For a moment Ashleigh paused, her fingers playing with the frayed edge of the hem. 'Kain,' she said. 'My name is Kain.'

'Just 'Kain'?'

'For now.'

'Not what agency you are?'

'I think you have a pretty good idea already. And I know you're planning to run my name through whatever system you have, so you'll just have to wait until then.'

'You know, I don't trust a woman who doesn't like to talk.'

'We're a rare commodity.'

'So you're just going to sit here are you?

'Well, I had hoped to do some sightseeing, I suppose that will have to wait until you decide what to do with me.'

Wade looked her over, and Ashleigh flushed under the direct gaze of the older man. Wade may have been presenting a congenial attitude, but Ashleigh suspected that he was far more knowing, and practical than his devil may care role suggested.

'I have a question,' she said softly.

'I'm not sure you're in a position to be asking questions.'

'My colleague. I was with someone else before I was captured. We were attacked. I managed to get away, but I think she may have been seriously hurt,' Ashleigh decided that that was less painful than thinking about the truth. 'I wanted to know if you found anyone else, if you might be holding her here.'

'Your colleague?'

'Yes. Another woman, a little taller than me. Long dark hair, tanned skin, green eyes. Attractive. She was diving with me.'

Wade paused, and Ashleigh couldn't interpret the look that flashed across his face. 'Who attacked you?'

'I don't know,' Ashleigh admitted. 'There were several of them, all divers, we were under water, they were armed with harpoon guns. They took my partner.'

Wade shook his head. 'We didn't find anyone else, Kain. You were on your own.'

'But…' Ashleigh tried to protest.

Wade glanced around quickly. 'You were on your own, Kain,' he repeated fiercely.

Ashleigh hesitated. She wanted to protest further, but she nodded slowly. 'On my own. As usual,' she said bitterly. Her fingers plucked at the edge of the blanket, and she stared up at the window at the darkening sky. She refused to meet Wade's eyes.

There was a pause, a low cough, and then the sound of Wade walking away. A clash of metal on metal, the click of a lock, and Ashleigh was alone again.