Alone in the bedroom, Ashleigh leant against the door, her breathing shallow and rapid. The dreadfulness of what she had just asked James to do filled her completely and revulsion caused her to bend double clutching her stomach in sudden pain. She slid to the floor, her hands pressed against her stomach, her skin burning hot and damp to touch.
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she sobbed again and again. 'I don't want to, but I have to.'
She couldn't see any other way.
It was some time before Ashleigh managed to compose herself, feeling worn out by the sudden onslaught of emotion. With a shaking hand she wiped her damp face, feeling the faint stickiness of long dried tears and the way they made her skin feel overly taunt. She licked her lips and tasted salt there.
In the small en-suite shower room, she splashed water on her face, pressing her wet fingers to her eyes, hoping to reduce the puffiness there. Glancing up, she was surprised to see that she didn't look that bad, a little red eyed and swollen lipped, but overall she seemed almost normal.
In looks perhaps.
Ashleigh knew that her moral code had altered since meeting Alec. She realised that while Alec kept up a respectable front, and that he had plenty of legitimate businesses that occupied him, there was an undercurrent of something that Ashleigh hadn't dared to explore too closely. M kept him busy too and Ashleigh knew that where M was concerned, Alec was dangerous. He might decide to assist his former boss, or to hinder her, or sometimes, both at the same time.
How had it come to this? She stared at her reflection, wondering where the Ashleigh before Alec had gone to. Her life had been so different. So honest.
Now she was contemplating a mortal sin.
Ashleigh wasn't religious, but the thought disturbed her all the same.
'Alec,' she whispered.
She loved him. She had wanted him from the moment she had seen him, but falling in love had taken longer. When she finally had, it had been totally and utterly. She had never truly known him though and that was the thought that occupied her mind now.
There was so much she needed to say to him.
So much she wouldn't say.
Her reflection stared accusingly back at her, and she looked into her own dark eyes.
'I'm sorry,' she whispered once more. 'Alec, I'm sorry.'
'You made it then?' M's authoritarian tone was diluted slightly by the tinny tone of the speakers in Ashleigh's laptop. 'Did you have a pleasant journey?'
'I'm bruised in places I didn't know could bruise,' Ashleigh complained lightly.
'You asked me to get you out of Cuba discreetly. I did warn you that it would be uncomfortable.'
'And hot, and sticky. And 'uncomfortable' doesn't even come close to describing exactly how it was.'
'You made it though,' M gave a small smile, only just visible on the screen. 'How is James?'
'You were right to be concerned, sir' Ashleigh tapped a pen on the edge of the desk. 'I'm under the impression that he isn't coping with Van Dien's death at all.'
M nodded and Ashleigh marvelled at the change in their relationship. Over the last six years they had become close, perhaps not anything ever close to friends, but Ashleigh knew that M valued and trusted her opinion. Contrasted to six years ago when M had been able to quell any protest from the young agent with a single glance and a pointedly raised eyebrow, it was a major advance towards something almost like friendship. Now Ashleigh was M's main point of contact in Sicily and Naples. She worked hard for MI6 and in return she had earned respect and several long term contracts.
'How serious do you think this grief is?' M's tone was slightly scornful, as if she thought that there was something dirty about such an emotion.
'He's shaken, definitely shaken. He's also very reluctant to get involved with anything. I suspect he's closing in on himself in some form of self preservation.'
'If we were talking about anyone other than James Bond, I might believe that, Ashleigh.'
'You don't believe that he's mourning, sir?'
'Perhaps. I think that it might be more than that.'
'I take it that I'm not going to get any more of an explanation than that, sir?'
'Absolutely not.' Even over a satellite link, M's tone was unmistakable. Ask her no questions and she would tell you no lies.
'You said that you would have further orders for me when I arrived here,' Ashleigh attempted.
M's cold blue eyes stared at her through the laptop screen. Ashleigh suddenly felt like that young agent once more.
'You're not my agent to order, Ashleigh. Particularly in this situation.'
'Sir?' Ashleigh frowned, confused. She tapped the pen faster.
'A car will arrive for you and James tomorrow. You will be transported to a location, where you will receive your orders.'
'Yes sir,' Ashleigh leant forward eagerly.
'Ashleigh. You're not my agent. Not officially. What I am asking you to do, it is a request. You have every right to say no. However, I would appreciate it if you would accompany James. I have a need of those that I trust right now.'
'Of course, sir. Should I tell James?'
'I will contact James directly.' M said abruptly, cutting Ashleigh off halfway through her sentence. Ashleigh bit her tongue, knowing not to argue.
'Yes, sir.' She may not officially be M's agent, but she was obedient all the same.
'You're putting yourself at risk,' Charles shook his head as M closed down the link between her and Ashleigh.
'That is my business, Charles.'
'And mine,' Charles snapped back. 'I shall be the one who has to fill out the paper work to bring back your body. Not to mention all the extra hours trying to explain to the Prime Minister exactly how you got killed, shortly followed by having to find someone to replace you.'
'Your concern is touching.'
'And you are being flippant!' Charles struggled to control his temper.
'I'll let you get away with that little outburst because we are alone. However, you will do well to remember I have the power to transfer you.'
'Your threats may work well on Bond, but not on me. I'm still waiting for my proposed transfer to outer Mongolia.'
'Don't tempt me, Charles. I'm in no mood for this.'
'Of course you're not. You've just discovered there are people out there planning to kill you!'
'It's not that that worries me.'
'It worries me…'
'Yes, Charles,' M held a hand up to silence him. 'The paperwork. You've said.'
Charles took the hint, and remained silent. He tapped his fingers on the desk, staring around M's office.
'Please stop mentally redecorating. I'm not dead yet, and therefore the job isn't yours yet.'
Charles laughed, despite himself.
'This is no whim of mine, Charles. This isn't macho bravery. This is a necessity.'
'Putting your life on the line?'
'I ask my agents to do that every single day. I should be seen to do the same.'
'No, you shouldn't. That's the whole point of being head of MI6. You don't buy a dog and bark yourself, sir.'
'Charming analogy, thank you.'
'You remember Istanbul? You were lucky Elektra King had a sadistic streak.'
M suppressed a shudder, remembering the incident. The oil heiress, Elektra King had murdered her own father, one of M's oldest friends, to gain control of his companies and as revenge. Elektra had been kidnapped as a young woman, held to ransom, and M had advised King against paying the ransom. They had cut off part of Elektra's ear, but worse than that, the young woman had fallen for one of her kidnappers. Together, she and Reynard had concocted a plot that had led to King's death, stolen plutonium, and M trapped in a dusty tower in Istanbul. Charles was right. Elektra had wanted M to suffer as she had. To understand what it was like to wait, to watch time ticking away knowing that no one was going to help you.
M had managed to escape, activating a tracking device with a battery taken from a clock and some small adjustments.
When would these people learn that in order to win, you had to shoot without hesitation? There was no time for deliberation, no time for gloating, and certainly no time for explaining master plans.
Shoot quickly, or not at all. Otherwise, agents, and heads of MI6 tended to escape.
Seeing M's small smile, Charles groaned. 'You were lucky that time. What makes you think you will be this time?'
'I'll be well protected, Charles.'
'I presume you've called in the military.'
'Of course, the head of the Navy owes me a favour,' M opened a file. 'Charles, before you continue asking questions, I have made my decision. I had planned to do this before our most recent communication and I shall continue to do so despite the threat.'
'If you insist, sir.'
M glanced up, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. 'Would it make you feel better if you knew this event could bring us closer to the kidnappers of Natasha Trevelyan?'
'No, it makes me feel worse,' Charles snapped. 'You're risking your life for a child.'
'I'm going to ask you to put aside your differences against the Trevelyans and to consider what you just said.'
Charles flushed. 'Children have been kidnapped all over the world. Sometimes they are recovered and sometimes they are not. Sometimes the parents are not to blame…'
'And sometimes they are.' M sighed, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. 'I have no doubt that it is the actions of Natasha's parents that led to her kidnap, but I promised them both that I would do my best to retrieve her. I cannot risk the animosity of either of them. They are both too useful to me. You can't deny that, Charles.'
Charles scowled this time, knowing what M said was true, even if he didn't want to admit it.
'It took me several years to coax Alec Trevelyan into working for us once more. It has been a highly successful relationship and I do not want to jeopardise that.'
'And Ashleigh?'
'Ashleigh will do what is best for her daughter. Never underestimate a mother.'
'And if she fails? If the child…' Even Charles couldn't complete the sentence.
'We had better hope that that doesn't happen.'
'You're manipulating people again, aren't you?'
'You learn quickly, Charles.'
'And how are you planning to manipulate Ashleigh?' Charles felt a twinge of regret for the young woman. His feelings may have changed towards her over the years, but he still remembered the enthusiastic young agent who he had worked with.
'I gave her what she wanted, and it hasn't worked out. I'm going to offer her an escape route.'
Charles raised an eyebrow.
'I'm going to make her an active agent again.'
'You truly think that is what she wants?'
'She's bored, Charles. Ashleigh isn't content sitting at home playing happy families. She's insisted on more and more work over the last few years. She's useful and has a range of excellent contacts. Alec has insisted on hiding her away, suffocating her slowly and surely.'
'Do you truly believe that?'
'It's an age old tale, Charles. A man falls for a woman for her independence, her intelligence and her looks, and then spends the rest of their lives trying to stop anyone else spotting those very qualities.'
'Speaking from experience, sir?'
'Hardly. Robert is extremely supportive. And that's all I'm saying on the matter.'
'I imagine he is too frightened to argue, sir. After all, his wife has some of the most lethal assassins in the world at her beck and call.'
'Charles?'
'Yes, sir?'
'Shut up and do some work.'
'James?' Ashleigh found James in his study, his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a glass of vodka in his hand. She glanced at the laptop glowing in the corner and made an educated guess. 'Have you heard?'
'Tomorrow morning,' James said, as with a flick of his wrist he threw the dregs of his glass down his throat and reached for the bottle.
'I would say go steady on that,' Ashleigh gestured towards the vodka. 'But since it's you, well, I won't.'
'What are you trying to imply, Ashleigh?' he glared at her.
'Nothing,' she stammered. 'I didn't mean anything by it and for Christ's sake James, you know it.'
James slumped into an armchair in the corner of the room, and Ashleigh cautiously perched on the arm next to him. She ran a hand over his dark hair, and he leant into her until she put her arm around him.
'M knows more than what she is saying,' James said quietly.
'Doesn't she always?' Ashleigh mumbled into his hair.
'Do you ever think when this is going to end?'
'When Natasha is found, it ends.'
'I wish it was that simple for me.'
'James?' Ashleigh felt a flicker of fear.
'It never ends.'
'Of course it does. It has to, somewhere.'
'For a while perhaps. And then it starts again. Another mission. Another enemy. Another death.'
'Jasmin?'
'Jasmin. Elektra. Miranda. There are so many names.' James brought the glass in his hands up to eye level and stared at it. 'Tracy.'
Ashleigh brushed her lips against the top of James's head.
'I hope you understand what you've asked me to do,' James looked at her with shadowed eyes.
'I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.'
'I'm glad you understand. Because I certainly don't.'
'You don't have to,' Ashleigh murmured. 'You know I have my reasons.'
'I hope they're good enough.'
'Please don't ask me to justify them. I'm not sure I can,' she whispered.
He held out his glass to her and she took a modest sip, savouring the cold liquid. He took it back, and ran a hand over her hair, pulling her head down so he could kiss her cheek.
'Get some sleep,' he said into her hair. 'And that's an order.'
