Twelve hours earlier, one of the Navy crafts sent out by M had picked up a small persistent signal, and located the two agents. Exhausted, soaked through, bloodstained, but ultimately alive, Ashleigh had found herself being hauled onto the craft, supported by various crew members and immediately being wrapped in several thick, warm, welcoming blankets.
Refusing to be seen by the ship's doctor, and pleading exhaustion, she had simply requested permission to sleep and had been escorted to a small cabin. Throwing herself onto the small hard cot, she passed into a deep sleep. No dreams came to torment her, much to her subconscious relief, instead leaving her to slide further into the pit of emptiness that surrounded her. She no longer cared. She wanted to sleep. If she never woke up, what exactly would she have lost?
Waking with a start from a memory she couldn't quite grasp, her immediate impression was of being in a small metal coffin. Her head pounded with claustrophobia, and she jerked upright fumbling for a light. Her watch was gone, but a small luminous clock informed her that she had been asleep for over eleven hours.
Wrapped in a heavy waterproof, Navy jacket, she made her way on deck, grateful for her solitude. She found a quiet area where she could just lean against the railing and watch the waves. Sailors hurried about their business, a few throwing her curious glances, but none quite daring to interrupt her.
Her shoulders slumped. No feelings of elation swamped her. The victory still remained as hollow as it had been as she had cried in James's arms. She had once heard someone say that everyone needed something to fight for. Who had it been? She couldn't remember and she didn't care, it was all crap. In the end, you fought for your own life, and you thanked yourself if you somehow managed to survive, because who else would? All the people who's lives she had just saved? They didn't even know the threat they were under in the first place.
When she got onto dry land, she would receive her pat on the back with one hand, while the other forced her next set of orders upon her. And the whole process would start again.
And perhaps he was right. Perhaps she would keep doing this until she died in the process. She no longer cared. Ashleigh Kain fought for Ashleigh Kain from this point onwards.
'Reliving the mission, Agent Kain?' a voice asked from her side.
'I'm sorry?' she started, holding back the strands of hair that whipped her face so she could actually see the speaker.
'You were either reliving the mission, or contemplating throwing yourself in. And I would have thought that one dip in that frozen ocean was enough for anyone.'
'Well, yes,' she muttered, furious that someone had dared to interrupt her self pity. She glared at him, but was rather taken back by the warm smile on his face.
Midshipman Mathew Rhys nodded at the agent he had helped to pull from the water earlier, and held out a plastic cup of coffee to her.
'Vile tasting,' he said, indicating the thick, steaming brown liquid, 'But it's hot.'
'Thank you.'
He waited for her to take a sip, she glanced doubtfully at the murky coffee. 'You're supposed to be resting, Agent Kain.'
She grimaced at the cloying bitter taste as she sipped, she didn't actually like coffee, vile tasting or not, but she appreciated the warmth that spread through her. She began to thaw slightly. 'I needed some fresh air.'
Reluctant to involve herself in a conversation, she turned back to the ocean, hoping the officer would take the hint.
'I'll apologise in advance for pushing unwanted advice upon you, but you were exposed for a quite a while. Not to mention the state of your arm when you arrived. It might be an idea to check in with the ship's doctor.
Ashleigh flushed. Underneath her jacket she had crudely tied her arm up with a strip of her torn vest, having attempted to clean it up as best as she could. It now felt raw and moving it was painful, but it wasn't as bad as she had first thought, the blade had at least gone through cleanly.
'Cat fight?' he asked, gesturing to the parallel scratches along her cheek. Subconsciously her hand flew to them, feeling the coarse texture of dried blood there. She was bruised, battered and chilled to the bone, but she wasn't yet ready to face a doctor.
'You could say that,' she muttered. She formed her features into what she hoped was an apologetic smile. 'Look, I know and you know that the moment I step onto dry land I'm going to be forced to see a doctor, and I promise I'll go then, but... not just yet...'
The stubbornness was clear on her face, but she also seemed distressed behind the dark eyes. He decided to drop the matter. He leant on the railings next to her, standing in companionable silence.
'Amazing, isn't it?'
'What?'
'The way secrecy dictates our lives.'
She glanced at him curiously. He was tall, well built, with close cropped dark hair and smiling blue eyes. He reminded her of what she thought a younger James would look like. Thawing slightly at his easy manner, she relaxed next to him, perhaps he did understand an element of what she was going through.
'I suppose there are too many aspects of our jobs that we can't talk about. Not to family, friends, the people that are supposed to be closest to us, until eventually we end up having to lie to them.'
'Not all the time,' he said guardedly, 'But yes. There sometimes seems to be far too many secrets.'
They continued to stare at the water.
'Why do we do it?' he asked. 'Why do we risk our own lives, so that other's may live in a safe world?'
It was a rhetorical question, thrown out into the wind without ever expecting an answer.
'Do you know what I think it is?' Ashleigh spoke so softly, at first Rhys wasn't sure she had spoken. 'Arrogance. Sheer arrogance. That deep down inside we do it because we believe that only we can, there is something that makes us special, makes us believe that only we can save the world. It all boils down to pride and arrogance and in the end it becomes a drug, an addiction, the thrill of the mission, the adrenaline of success and the praise we will receive, and we do it again and again for the same buzz, all the time becoming more arrogant with each victory. The only reason we don't become like the other side, whoever the enemy may be this time, is because we believe that there is still some good in this world, and that it's worth fighting for. But take that belief away, and we're no better than them.'
She paused, remembering how tempted she had been to take Hermes for herself. 'And it would be far too easy to cross that line.'
Mathews looked up at her, saw the whitened knuckles gripping the rail.
'Do you really believe that?'
'I really wish I didn't,' Ashleigh bit her lip. 'But right now I do.'
