WARNING: This passage contains adult and sexual situations.
Stretching out a hand, he’s more than happy to have woken alone.
If Ronni had been here Bond would have been disappointed, knowing she has learnt her lessons well. Leave before he wakes, make sure your target’s left wanting more, that their need to help is always tempered against the importance of completing your mission. All the things they had said, that she’d asked and he’d answered with the brutal honesty needed had been the reward craved since he first took the number. The fact the sex had been fantastic was very much a bonus, and that remains a surprise he’s forgotten could be appreciated. He knew finally why Q had started this, never just about Veronica, because there was always another side to the story.
My problem is arrogance, continually assuming what the Service decides to record as success.
Ronni had become the focus away from 004 and 002’s demise, from his M, Sévérine, Vesper and everyone else, rapidly evolving into something altogether more fascinating. Her smell is everywhere, on tongue and in nostrils simultaneously, remains of a night that would never have marked the end of her potential, regardless of the final outcome. She’s also left her mark: rubbing discomfort on his forearm, four thin scratches from her nails. Bond closes eyes and returns to the memory: riding his hand, feeling the contraction of pleasure when she first climaxed around him, genuinely grateful that he was asked to stay. Here was an agent who understood the value of giving a target exactly what they desired, and more.
Veronica is perfectly capable of interpreting what is expected by her Country. I have no hesitation in recommending Special Agent Ashby for promotion to the final stage of Active Consideration at the earliest possible opportunity.
He knows the report can be written with a dispassionate tone, and yet every word loaded with his own meaning. Q, I should never have doubted you.
Walking to shower the room is surprisingly tidy: she cleared away the previous night’s detritus without waking him, ability to stealth impressive. Ronni will be serving breakfast now, impeccable in the outfit that he has often recalled is more than enough to make him aroused just by its memory, doing well to store that image away for the next time he’s forced to make love to a not totally desirable woman in the name of Queen and Country. Only then does the cafetière become apparent on the table, flask of hot water beside it, two fresh croissants that are still warm to the touch. There’s a note too, in beautifully elegant longhand, written on one of the hotel’s napkins:
‘For my favourite metaphor.’
007 laughs, and knows he’ll be back on the Active Roster by the end of the week.
Moneypenny looks up from the monitor with a smile as Veronica enters M’s office. She’d taken the visitor’s lift, because this would be the last time it would be necessary, if everything went to plan. That had been the way Eve had chosen too, in the days when a woman was in charge, and there is a moment of yearning for a time where there would be more of her sex around her, and not less. Maybe if they could be as determined as Ronni was, it might happen. She had sacrificed everything to get here: Eve hadn’t had much of a life to lose when she joined the Service.
Bond had said it himself: field work wasn’t for everybody. It fitted Ronni like a glove.
What bothered Eve most was how good Ashby was, even though it shouldn’t. There ought to be no hint of jealousy because of personal circumstances but watching how Bond reacted made her more uncomfortable than it really should. This was an occupational hazard: Eve understood the principle of costs and consequences, yet was still unable to completely grasp the results. This desk job therefore was the best that could reasonably be expected until that situation was resolved.
She really wanted to like Ronni, but she was almost a 00, and there was little doubt the woman would get to the finish. She wasn’t sure being friends would ever be an option that would work for either of them as a result, especially after what had happened with 002. Eve however was an expert in deception, and with her mask in place she is ready to play the role of dutiful assistant.
‘I hope you’ve forgiven me for the last time we met?’
Ronni stops at her desk and eyes Eve with caution, before placing a takeaway travel mug with perhaps a little too much force than was necessary. She’d finally done the homework on this woman, knowing that Bond has worked with her during Skyfall before accepting demotion. She was also well aware that those actions in Istanbul before Silva’s final elimination should have promoted her to 00 status but instead condemned her Service future completely. Were it not for the fact this progress had been associated at least in part with Active Consideration, she’d not still be here, and that could be a bitter pill to ever swallow successfully.
Yet here Eve remained, fronting one of the most significant jobs in the building. There was something else missing from the younger woman’s file that Ronni suspected she’d need to be 00 to access, but that was a rabbit-hole for another day.
She should be more impressed by this woman’s strength in adversity as a result.
‘I thought I’d play it safe and I bought my own refreshments this time. Just to be sure.’
M appears at the door of his office, jacket off, and Ronni unconsciously reacts, straightening as Eve moves the mug to one side, off the desk. The man was not a fan of clutter, and the coffee might smack of the fact Ashby’s working on ninety minutes’ sleep. She is impressed at Eve’s foresight.
‘Good afternoon, Special Agent Ashby. Please come in.’
The two women exchange a glance, neither of them grasping just how much they have in common with the other.
M’s office is exactly as it should be, Ronni decides, back in the days when 00 agents smoked forty a day and drank like fish because that was what the job entailed. She suspects that women had an even harder time: Moneypenny had been through four incarnations after all, while Bond was on his sixth. Ironically the only deaths had been to the women: every 007 who’d held the title was still alive, living out their retirements scattered across the globe. She knows her Bond would make it to pass on his baton, but would she be given the same courtesy?
She’s not stopped thinking about him since dropping off breakfast, knowing this is not healthy, but doesn’t actually care. She’s never loved him, or required him as a role model. This isn’t about forgetting anything, or using their night together for any kind of distraction. She now understands that they truly represent both sides of the same coin, and it has been a long time since there’s been empathy with anyone on the scale she currently possesses with James. He told her to try and hold onto her Christian name, missing having anything that is truly his any more. She responded that everything else was willingly sacrificed, so a name wouldn’t matter, but he thinks otherwise. Ronni understands the importance of knowing who you really are, without the need for labels or signposts. Playing this game to the required standard is all well and good, but sometimes that’s just not enough.
What is needed then is someone that defies the rules.
‘I thought I’d call you in specially this afternoon, as I know you’re between shifts on your current undercover assignment, which I hear has been very fruitful thus far.’
Don’t discuss your assignments with anyone when prompted, not even the boss. Ronni doesn’t need the reminder any more but imagines Q on her shoulder: he’d wear white, and Bond would be in red. That’s how she’d visualise most quandaries from now on.
‘I’ve been looking at your final assessments, and I have to say I am genuinely pleased at what I’ve read. We had some initial concerns at Carnegie, and briefly it appears while you were at the Barracks but you appear to have made strong and steady progress ever since. I think the defining moment for both of us was the American incident. I’m still impressed at your industry and I hope this is repeated throughout your career.’
Ronni allows herself a moment to bask, but keeps it brief, instead deferring her best smile until such time as she felt the New Guy’s comments deemed a response.
‘I wanted to ask you how you felt you’d performed in your final assessment with 007.’
M looks at her impassively, and Ronni holds the expression, neutrality assured. Does the boss know we had sex on company time? Did Q record it all, or were we finally allowed some R&R off the books? At least it would be a good session to archive, they’d both made sure that the time was used productively… if she concentrates there is the memory of his hands on her waist, moving down to anchor hips in place as he penetrated from behind, gasps of pleasure as she’d used internal muscles to squeeze on each inward stroke.
It had been best however face to face, so she could watch him react, no more games or pretending to be someone else. When he refused to break eye contact as he slipped inside her the last time, making her wish that she’d not wasted so many years running away from what her body was capable of. If they’d have met before all of this, away from the world of deceit and death: would have ever connected at all?
She doesn’t let the mask slip, or even falter, answer emerging without thinking.
‘I feel he’s helped me discover my strengths, and assisted considerably with suggestions where I can improve. I don’t think I could have had a more generous assessor. I am very grateful for the opportunity to have worked under him. I look forward to doing so again as an equal.’
Ronni knows now she is capable of anything.