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♠ | 006 | Video
[When the video clicks on, Bond moves away from the screen to sit forward on his bed, scooping something off the comforter in the process. The communicator is propped up on a chair in front of him; the cushion is just barely visible at the bottom of the screen. Both his hands are full - in his right is a glass, with two fingers of a dark, orange-gold liquid; scotch, a gift from Pepper for Christmas. He doesn't have much more left.
And in his left hand is a necklace - specifically, an Algerian love knot. His thumb keeps running over it, his attention settled on the necklace like it's the only thing that matters. He isn't drunk, but he might be heading in that direction.]
Before I came here, I was in a bar, in Bolivia. The man I was meeting was CIA, and I suppose as close to a friend as I have. I don't make friends, generally. I have colleagues, and acquaintances, and enemies. Felix is a good man, though. The CIA had a capture or kill order on me, but he gave me the intel I needed. Greene was meeting Medrano at the Perla de las Lunas. That was my chance. That was our chance.
There was a girl, Camille. Former Bolivian secret service. When she was a child, Medrano killed her father, raped her sister and mother and killed them, too, all in front of her. He set fire to the house, and left her to die with her family. [This isn't just rote information; he sounds in control, but there's anger, under the surface.] Orphans make the best agents. She escaped, obviously. I don't know how long she's waited for this opportunity. [Because he doesn't know exactly how old she is or was, but.]
I wanted her to have her revenge. Because I don't think I'll have mine.
[He takes a long drink, glances down at the necklace, and stands to pocket it. On his way back down, he grabs the communicator, holding it up to eye level now. He holds up the glass - there's less than a finger left now - contemplating it.]
I think I've started drinking too much. That's part of being a double-oh, you know - drinking. So many covers require blending into high stakes environments. But it's different, here. Everything's sedentary. I feel it more.
[He knocks back the rest of the glass with a vague shrug.] But it's better than grieving.
Let's lighten the mood some, shall we? Ivy told me, on my first day here, that I'm featured in a series of books, and movies. Tell me about them. I think they might be absurd fiction, but I'm concerned there will be a degree of accuracy that I'm extremely uncomfortable with.
And in his left hand is a necklace - specifically, an Algerian love knot. His thumb keeps running over it, his attention settled on the necklace like it's the only thing that matters. He isn't drunk, but he might be heading in that direction.]
Before I came here, I was in a bar, in Bolivia. The man I was meeting was CIA, and I suppose as close to a friend as I have. I don't make friends, generally. I have colleagues, and acquaintances, and enemies. Felix is a good man, though. The CIA had a capture or kill order on me, but he gave me the intel I needed. Greene was meeting Medrano at the Perla de las Lunas. That was my chance. That was our chance.
There was a girl, Camille. Former Bolivian secret service. When she was a child, Medrano killed her father, raped her sister and mother and killed them, too, all in front of her. He set fire to the house, and left her to die with her family. [This isn't just rote information; he sounds in control, but there's anger, under the surface.] Orphans make the best agents. She escaped, obviously. I don't know how long she's waited for this opportunity. [Because he doesn't know exactly how old she is or was, but.]
I wanted her to have her revenge. Because I don't think I'll have mine.
[He takes a long drink, glances down at the necklace, and stands to pocket it. On his way back down, he grabs the communicator, holding it up to eye level now. He holds up the glass - there's less than a finger left now - contemplating it.]
I think I've started drinking too much. That's part of being a double-oh, you know - drinking. So many covers require blending into high stakes environments. But it's different, here. Everything's sedentary. I feel it more.
[He knocks back the rest of the glass with a vague shrug.] But it's better than grieving.
Let's lighten the mood some, shall we? Ivy told me, on my first day here, that I'm featured in a series of books, and movies. Tell me about them. I think they might be absurd fiction, but I'm concerned there will be a degree of accuracy that I'm extremely uncomfortable with.
Private
What does the suit actually look like?
Private
Sometimes I think I should take your approach and simply go undercover and use more fake passports, but I like my flair for the dramatic.
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Were you shot?
Private
I think I was shot, but I can't be certain. The only person who knows for sure won't tell me.
Private
Who knows?
Private
My son, Jason. I'd have been more persistent in finding out but I think my death affected him badly.
Private
Fathers' deaths do tend to do that, to sons. Mine affected me terribly. I think it's the same for you.
Private
How did you cope with your father's death? I'm asking because I think it might help me understand how Jason feels.
Private
I shut myself in a priest's hole for two days. But I was very young. I didn't know how to deal with it. When I was older, I climbed the mountain where they died. It didn't help very much. I imagine not much will help Jason, either.
Private
Did you ever get past it? If not, do you think you could, if you put your mind to it?
Private
I haven't talked about this since my initial psych evaluation when I joined MI6. I suppose I did. I moved on with my life, and used my considerable leavings from their will to buy a truly fantastic Bentley. But I still haven't gone back to the manor house. I never want to see that place again.
Private
There's a way out, there always is. I'm just not sure if it's one we can find. I don't think the Admiral gets bored of us since he keeps bringing people here, or sending them home and then bringing them back with no memories. This ship isn't about redemption, it's about amusing him until we break.
We can't move on until we face the things that have happened to us. Maybe you need to deal with it. Maybe I'm off the mark and there's something else you need to do before going home.
Private
What do you need to deal with?
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I need to deal with my anger. I'm justified in it, but all it's done is hurt people.
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M thinks I'm blinded by inconsolable rage. Maybe you are too.
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I think I could forgive her, but I'm afraid to.
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