The psychiatrist was an archetypal representation of his profession. With his weak, blurry eyes behind thick glasses, and a straggly thin beard attempting to cover his rather undeveloped jaw, he was the last person Ashleigh felt like opening up to. Instead she watched fascinated as his pen travelled to his mouth once more, which opened willingly to receive its biro offering, revealing slightly yellowing teeth, and a very pink fleshy tongue.
'So, Agent Kain,' the biro was removed from the mouth once more, leaving a long trail of saliva between his rubbery lip and the tip of the pen. The fragile silvery stream broke, and fell, settling somewhere unseen on the dark suit jacket. Ashleigh shuddered. 'I understand this was a very difficult assignment for you.'
'I suppose so.' She shifted on the deliberately uncomfortable chair. It was the last place she wanted to be. Called into this mission against her wishes, she was preparing herself to be deliberately uncooperative.
In went the pen again. He spoke around it, causing his already whiny voice to become muffled. 'Would you care to elaborate upon that?'
'In what way exactly?'
'Well, tell me how you feel the assignment went for you? What do you feel you achieved from this particular assignment?' He was speaking as if he were explaining matters to a slightly slow child.
'I - I'm not sure. Obviously, it was successful, surely that is all that matters?'
'If you think so, Agent Kain.'
The questioning continued in this painful manner. Ashleigh had dealt with these sessions for as long as she had been a member of MI6. There was only one way to get through them, answering the questions as quickly and as briefly as possible, before getting the hell out of there. They covered the usual questions, her childhood, her parents' deaths while she was still young, ('Yes, I believe I was rather upset, my parents were both dead.') and her suitability for 00 status. She answered them all with a practised tongue, and watched impatiently as he jotted down notes on the omnipresent clipboard.
Ashleigh frowned, and glanced at the long mirror that lined one side of the wall. She had an uneasy feeling about it. Outside this room, the temporary HQ set up by MI6 was mysteriously disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Ashleigh wondered if there was another team of psychiatrists sitting on the other side of the mirrored glass. She resisted the urge to glare at them.
*
On the other side of the glass, M watched as one of her youngest agents was interrogated. She glanced at the tall man standing next to her, watching with cold eyes.
'Tell me, Bond, how did she really do?' M said briskly, folding her arms. It had been the question she hadn't wanted to ask for some time.
'She was good,' Bond admitted grudgingly. 'She was coolheaded when she needed to be, and she seems to be quite professional.'
Professional in the sense that she knew what she was doing when it came to the rules, that her training has certainly been completed to a high level. But on the other hand...
M nodded slowly. She wanted James's guidance, but whether she followed it or not was another matter. 'In your professional opinion, could she ever make 00 status?'
James paused, and an almost guilty look flashed across his handsome features. 'No. She's far too emotional, and too vulnerable to outside influences.'
The dark look that crossed Bond's face left M in no doubt who exactly he meant. The old resentment would always be there, burning beneath the surface. 'I seem to remember a few 'outside influences' crossing your path once or twice, 007,' she said with a wry smile, immediately lightening the situation dragging it away from the thoughts of scarred men.
