Fic: for future II.
Title: for future (Part 2)
Fandom: James Bond (Daniel Craig Era)
Author:
karlamartinova
Beta: persiflage
Pairing: James Bond/M
Genre: Angst, General, AU
Rating: PG 13
Wordcount: 10 459 (5 630/ 4 829)
Disclaimer: Own nothing!
AN: The longest shit I have ever written!
Summary: Skyfall AU; M retires and everything just gets much more complicated.
.
part 1
It feels like they patched a crack on the wall with a tape. It can seem solid but fall off without any warning and they both know it, take careful steps forward and from time to time, one backwards. They talk about the service, remember sad times, and sometimes they together visit the cemetery without names on the gravestones.
“I used to cry every time I lost an agent but after few years, it just felt like a part of the job. Like I did it because it was expected and not because I felt it, they wanted me to be ruthless and cold, and it was much easier to obey,” she speaks as they walk side by side on the street.
Sometimes too close and sometimes too far, they’re looking for the right middle. “You did what you had to do to survive, if you showed emotion they would have replaced you with a faceless bureaucrat in a heartbeat,” he speaks like he understands and Victoria watches his face, he understands and to this moment he doesn't know he does. Their lives are intertwining more and more, they’re beginning to see the things the same way the other one does. She feels on the edge of a cliff.
They stop at a crossing, mixing with other people and they could be mother and son, aunt and nephew, and for a change Victoria enjoys blending somewhere else than just in the shadows. “You didn’t think about me this way before, did you?” she asks because she knows the answer and wants him to give her the same kind of honesty.
He looks sheepishly at her and then the green man lights up and they’re walking. “I called you a bitch, didn't I?” he notes with a smirk and she knows she got what she deserves. Marvels that they could be open, that they can really talk and maybe that’s one of the good things coming out of her retirement, and maybe she can finally see it.
“Noted,” she answers with a smile. He reaches the car first, opens the passenger door for her and then they’re driving back to her house talking about takeaway and how to spend the evening. They might put on the telly and then talk ignoring whatever they decided to put on or they could actually watch it. And the more Victoria thinks about him and her, the more she realizes he’s the first real friend she had.
Friendship with fellow agents was always dangerous, it could develop into something else, and there was always envy, and the possibility of one of them dying in the arms of the other. She made that mistake in the past, more than once, and now she hopes that whenever James Bond decides to die she won’t be anywhere close to witness it.
The door is open when they return to her house and a quick look passes between them but before he could decide what to use as a weapon Victoria remembers that she gave Lauren her key. Criminals usually don’t wear pink Adidas shoes either. “Lauren, Alice,” she calls only to have her granddaughter’s head poke out of the kitchen.
Her daughter follows closely after and when she sees her surprised face she realizes that Bond is still behind her.
“Mum, I’m sorry; I didn’t know you’d have company. We brought some food and movies, and I probably should’ve called.” She’s biting her lip and Victoria isn’t sure how ready she is to mix her two lives together. Bond seems to leave the situation to her because he’s completely still behind her, she doesn’t even hear him breathing.
“That’s okay, sweetheart.” She gets the easier words out and then takes a deep breath, then two and turns to him briefly. There’s a nod only she can see but it’s careful, he’s giving her the decision. “Lauren, this is James. James, my daughter Lauren and granddaughter Alice,” and just like that her lives merge. It’s a feeling unlike any other, but she knows more could be coming soon and she waits for it.
“I’m pleased to meet you both.” Bond moves past her and shakes Lauren’s hand, waves to Alice who comes out behind her mother with a smirk that looks too much like her grandmother’s. “I think I should leave you, family time is important,” he says with a smile and Victoria can see it doesn’t work on her daughter or granddaughter; they’re both looking at him suspiciously, but they don’t seem to be as shocked as she thought they might be. Both obviously thought that her friend James was much closer to her age, but neither of them lets it show. Maybe they expected it with all those secrets she kept from them.
“No, stay, we have enough food, besides we’re the ones who came without calling first. You should stay. If anyone should be leaving it’s us.” Victoria can see her daughter means it; she’s giving her a way out of this situation. They know there’re still parts of her she still isn’t ready to share but life has a funny way of showing us things we didn’t even know we needed.
“Nonsense, nobody’s leaving. Now show me what exactly you brought with you and James? Would you make us some tea?” He nods, leads the way into the kitchen and all three of them follow. And then they’re talking, preparing plates and nobody asks any difficult questions. Most of the things are never planned, they come, surprise us, show us how strong we can be, and how easy is sometimes to handle the most difficult situations.
.
“He seems nice,” Lauren remarks over cup of tea. It’s not in a teasing or prying way but Victoria still smiles into her cup because it took her more than an hour to finally mention him. Last night was surprisingly relaxing and even though they talked about anything other than their past, James engaged in conversations with both Lauren and Alice. He was remarkably natural and Victoria realized she was still thinking about him as the ruthless murderer MI6 paid him to be.
“Mmm,” she sighs not sure where this conversation is heading. Yesterday only proved to her that she needs to let Lauren come to the questions her own way, although meeting James Bond was a much bigger leap she expected. She won’t take it back, but she won’t let her provoke her to answers she isn’t ready to give either.
“So, how long have you known him?” she asks a little too quickly and continues sipping her tea like it was someone else who just asked the question. It’s so unlike her that Victoria knows that it's not just her life is slowly changing, Lauren’s is too, just because her mother is finally really talking to her.
She thinks about it, counts years in her head, but Lauren doesn’t want a number. Her daughter wants to know why that man knows more of her secrets, why him, and maybe she has an answer now. But there’re far too many things to take into consideration before the finality sinks in. It’s difficult to think about her life this way because now it isn’t about decisions and orders and death, it’s all about her, and running away doesn’t work anymore. She wishes it would.
She smiles at her daughter then, takes one of her hands into hers. “A little too long, sweetheart,” Victoria answers and watches her face, her eyes and to her delight, she sees understanding and knows, that Lauren heard everything she had wanted to say. Thank you’s are dancing at the end of her tongue and she lets them.
Bond comes after Lauren leaves; it’s not deliberate, at least not to her knowledge. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says after he hangs his coat behind her door. She’s not sure what kind of reaction he expects so she offers him a drink. She has one too, tries to drown every question she would like to ask, but he’s not there to get debriefed and she gladly stops analysing why he keeps coming back.
“Lauren asked about you,” she says instead and watches a grin spread along his mouth. Something hurts close to her heart but she ignores it, she’s beyond that now.
“She’s you,” he says. “Intelligent and warm and always knows when to ask the right questions.” His voice is warm too, like he’s delighted to know all this, like by knowing Lauren, he knows her better now too. He probably does because watching her daughter’s life tells her a story of how her own might have gone if she said “no” instead of “yes”. And it wouldn’t have been a bad life and she might have been a completely different person now, but regret is unprofessional and she believes in it despite everything.
“Yes, she is.” She smiles to herself and then reaches towards the phone before sentimentality will change this evening in something unexpected. She orders food, makes him prepare plates and tea, and it’s like any other evening in the last few months and Victoria wonders if she’s the only one feeling the change. When he says goodbye she has her answer.
.
She knew writing was difficult, she wrote more reports she would ever be able to reflect on. Dozens per day, thousands in a month, and it was about how her job was useful and how her agents were risking their lives for bureaucrats sitting in leather chairs, and it was never enough. She’s able to swallow the bitterness now but writing it down brings all those memories back.
It makes her remember Alfred and her fingers shake when she types down his name. It’s not his real name, of course, but one she assigned to him because she remembers seeing his mother at the funeral, her knees buckling, her posture crumbling, and she was then a nameless face in the crowd because she wasn’t really supposed to be there. She wasn’t supposed to love him either.
“You got lost?” he had asked her the first time they met. It was in the training and she knew who he was and he knew who she was too. They were recruited the same day, on the same grounds but not together because a boy from a wealthy family wouldn’t talk to a girl who cuts her hair short and wears grey sweaters to disappear.
But they decided they should work together, that they fitted, and Victoria had hated them for that decision, hated how very small he made her feel in those first days. Then they had nearly died and the story continued very differently.
She stops typing, makes herself stand and reach for the photo album. There aren’t any pictures of Alfred in them, she burnt them, every single one, when there was a chance someone might find out about them, about stolen kisses and a baby that could never be born. She looks at the picture of her husband instead, she’s there sitting next to him and she remembers how long it had taken her to fall in love.
She’s still sitting behind her desk with the open photo album when the doorbell rings. She expects Clara and Isabella, they wanted to stop by to discuss the holidays, so she quickly puts it down and goes to the door.
“Grandma has flu and mum stayed with her. She told me to bring you these.” Alice doesn’t waste the time with greeting and just pushes the catalogues into her hands. There’s forwardness about her that Victoria always found very endearing, Alice knows how to play a good girl but she prefers not to, and they all know she could do anything she wants to.
“Thank you, Alice. Want to join me for tea?” she asks and steps away, with everything that's happening and the secrets slowly coming to the surface, Victoria didn’t really have time to talk with her about it. She could imagine her figuring out a few things on her own but if there was any confusion, she felt better clearing it away without Lauren listening to that conversation.
“Maybe a sherry?” Alice winks at her as she walks past into the living room.
“Maybe in about 5 years, missy. Now sit down and think about what I should tell your mum and grandmother about the whole holiday business,” she tells her, and walks straight to the kitchen. Their whole family were proper Brits and tea got consumed on daily basis, it was lovely to know her granddaughter inherited it as well.
When she comes back into the living room, Alice isn’t anywhere in sight. Shuffling noises from the library help her to locate her pretty quickly. She’s looking through the album when she enters. “Sorry, I can never resist a closed door,” she notes with a grin and comes closer with the book still in her hands.
“Is this grandfather?” she asks showing her the picture Victoria had looked at earlier.
She nods and Alice continues to look through it, smiling at the pictures of her mother as a baby. “How did you meet?” The last picture she looks at is their wedding photo, which probably evokes the question.
“In a hospital naturally, I needed to remove some stitches and he invited me for a coffee afterwards,” she says with a smile, much darker memories are emerging as well. It was just weeks after Alfred had died in her arms and going out with another man wasn’t on her mind at all.
“I see, so granddad was a smooth talker,” Alice notes with a smile. “It seems it worked.”
“Yes, you coming? The tea is getting cold.” She wasn’t ready for her memories to overwhelm her like this but today she had already thought about Alfred, maybe connected his fate with Bond’s in her head, and now she wants to forget that it ever occurred to her. Even being sentimental means you can get hurt, death hurts the people you leave behind, it hurts even more when you finally realize what they mean to you.
Alice follows her, closes the door and she realizes she hopes that by that she’s closing this particular topic as well. She wonders if it’s because Bond is on mission or did the memories really take such a toll on her? Victoria managed to evade them for such a long time, pretended they never happened and swore herself to never love anyone one who might die in her arms. Reginald didn’t, it was a lonely hospital bed, and she wasn’t anywhere near when he took his last breath. Guilt had found her then but secretly, she was glad.
It takes her two minutes and two sips to be back at the questioning. “What are you writing at your computer? I saw an open document.” Alice continues to sip her tea pretending that she isn’t all that interested, but Victoria had long ago learnt to read body language and it seems that her granddaughter had been collecting questions for quite a long time. She can’t really blame her.
“I’m writing my memoirs or trying to; it’s too bloody difficult,” she answers because avoiding it won’t be the best course of action, Alice is curious, much more than her mother and Victoria can’t help but admire it. She isn’t nosy, nor is she going to pass it along. She just wants to know.
Her eyes go wide and her lips move already but the question is stuck somewhere between propriety and Victoria’s willingness to answer. It takes only seconds and Alice asks with straightness that makes her grandmother even more proud, maybe she should rethink the possibility of her future.
“So you really were a spy?” It sounds like a question and if it would be written down one day, a question mark would be at the end, but it’s a statement and she doesn’t feel the need to nod because Alice almost drops her cup when no response comes back at her. “That Bond is one too, isn’t he? Is he keeping you safe?”
“No, he’s here for completely other reasons,” she says with a smile and only then realizes that she's guided the conversation into waters that aren’t exactly safer.
“And those are?” Alice asks and shuffles closer on the couch. She has a devilish glint in her eye and Victoria knows she should end this conversation right now, because that’s a question she only allowed herself to speculate about. She isn’t ready to let go of reasons why it would be a bad idea, whatever “it” might be and yes, she touched his face and he held her hand, and it could mean absolutely nothing.
But she’s a pragmatic woman too, emotions brought her grief so she ignored them, and suddenly the answer looks clear. He kept coming back because he wanted to, he gave her space when it became apparent she wasn't ready to analyse the possibility of their relationship changing. He accepted her, understood her, and wanted her family to know about him. And there were pros and cons and a whole list of reasons, but she won’t allow it to confuse her.
“Because I think, he wants to,” the pragmatic part of her answers and even though it might not be true, somehow she knows it is.
.
She doesn’t hear him knocking. He always knocks even though she has a doorbell. It’s more personal, only people who aren’t allowed inside use the bell. It’s a stupid logic but she understands. But when she isn’t downstairs, she doesn’t hear him.
So when she turns around and sees him leaning on her bedroom doorframe, she almost has a heart attack. “Sorry, I knocked,” he says apologetically. She sends him a glare.
“Next time try to sneak upon me a little more loudly, will you?” She continues to pack, only two more shirts, and then she closes the suitcase and faces him. He looks injured, there aren’t many bruises on his face but his whole posture screams pain, and she wants to ask about it but she doesn’t, not now.
Bond notices the suitcase. “Sorry, travelling somewhere?”
“French Coast, Lauren mentioned it last time you met, remember?” Lauren told her to invite him too, somewhere between her talk with Alice and now, and she thought she might have underestimated her granddaughter. It feels wrong though and she realized she underestimated her daughter instead. Both of them learnt how to read her, how to know which words she really means and what really is important. They probably knew it sooner than she did.
“Yes, I think,” he says and looks away. He looks like he might be sulking and she walks up to him and motions to the bag he’s holding in his hand. “Oh, yes, brought some dinner.”
“That could save you. Maybe we could sit down in the living room and have some telly on?” she suggests and Bonds nods already turning around and walking. She walks behind him watching his slow steps, he winces when he starts to climb down the stairs.
She can’t it help now. “What happened?” He stops and looks at her.
“Just a little run in with an Audi A4,” he’s grinning but she can see beyond that and just shakes her head. She doesn’t feel like mothering him, she doesn’t have the right and it’s too soon to express her worry. Besides he knows she worries, she has written it on her face, every single line is a near death experience. There aren’t all his, there’re far too many for that.
Sometimes she likes to think they’re her sins, the guilt she collected through the years, it just needed a way to show itself to the world. Yes, it’s age too but there are lines much deeper than those on her face which hurt much more than those that people could see.
They sit down, nibble on the food and enjoy the peace that wasn’t allowed to her for so many years. But she knows that eventually this will change too and maybe she could make the change now, to tell him that fear is both known and unknown to her and together they could figure it out. And she’s preparing words, phrases, how to tell all those things right.
Bond falls asleep before she has a chance to and she feels frustrated, wired, there’s unknown energy going through her veins and she needs to let it out, to tell him. But he’s sleeping so peacefully, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm, and eventually she gives up and tidies up the rest of the food. Irritation is making her move and she ends up cleaning the kitchen, putting cups from one cupboard into other, and it’s all unnecessary but she needs the activity, needs to think about other things because she feels she might otherwise go crazy.
It takes her another 30 minutes to go back to the living room, he’s still sleeping peacefully but as soon as she covers him with a blanket he begins to trash around. His eyes open a little too quickly and he looks disoriented. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You can take the guest room if you want.” She motions up the stairs but he shakes his head.
“No, sorry, I didn’t plan on falling asleep,” he says and his breaths are getting heavier, it must hurt him. She remembers the pain, remembers having broken ribs and punctured lungs, and how it was difficult to take a breath. And nightmares making your eyes snap open in the middle of the night, the light was always gone and sometimes she was afraid she’d gone blind from the terror. He looks like he knows the same feeling too.
“Take a deep breath.” She keeps her voice down, tries to sound warm and calming. She rounds the couch and sits down next to him. “Slowly. Slowly,” she repeats it over and over. He’s looking straight at her and there’s something unreadable in his eyes, something like wonder and she understands. Only Alfred had known how to make her relax after a nightmare and after his death, there was no one.
His breathing slowly comes back to normal and when he puts his hands on his thighs, they’re not shaking. She takes it as a good sign.
“Better?” she asks carefully and he nods, manages a small smile and it warms her heart. She helped him, like Alfred used to help her. Maybe there really is a chance for her, them. And then she remembers the danger and worry and reaches out, slowly lifts up his shirt and uncovers ugly purple bruises.
He sucks in a breath and she looks up, looking for a sign to stop, but Bond doesn’t give her one and she touches his stomach with the ends of her fingers, trails along the biggest bruise, feels the hot swollen flesh, and imagines all the worry that will torment her daily. Is it worth it? And then she remembers how she didn’t used to worry because it was her life on the line too and it still might be, she isn’t young anymore, her heart might stop any moment, some old enemy might come back and kill her. Regret is unprofessional, she had said to Silva, but it's better not to have any.
Her hand is still resting on his stomach and she makes her decision and looks up, and he somehow knows. Maybe she wore her secrets on her face all the time and maybe only he knows them without her telling him. His hands finds her face and although they're usually rough, they feel soft, James tugs slowly and she follows, feels the muscles in his stomach flex and raises herself on her knees so he doesn’t have to bend.
The kiss starts from a weird angle and they need to move around to find the right position but the waiting makes it sweeter. And then she’s sitting on his thighs taking care not to lean on his stomach, and he’s holding her by her hips and their kisses are getting more heated. She needs too much willpower to stop but he’s hurt and needs to get better so they have time to analyse what’s happening.
“We need to stop,” Victoria whispers, her lips just a millimetre away from his.
“No,” he mumbles and pulls her back and she lets him because she'd forgotten how good it feel to let someone kiss you, to let them show you everything by the touch of their lips, slow means sensual, quick means want and passion, and she knows she wants all that but not now. She wants him whole.
“Yes,” she says and tears herself away from him. “You need to get better first. Now let me put you to bed.”
She stretches her hand to him and he takes it. There’s a new kind of grin on his face she never saw him wear before, but has a feeling she might see it much more in the future. She tugs him up the stairs, he goes willingly but she has a feeling she could have trouble persuading him that he needs to sleep in the guest room, at least tonight.
.
“Good morning, Victoria,” Isabella says cheerfully as she sits down across from her. She smiles as a greeting and continues to sip her morning coffee. The sun is already wonderfully warming up her skin and she’s enjoying herself. It’s the first real vacation she's had in decades and at first she was afraid she'd be bored most of the time. Well, she could imagine some more excitement but the days aren’t as dull as she'd expected, and especially after last night she expects few things to change.
Lauren and Alice join them shortly afterwards. “How are you today?” she asks her mother with a glint in her eye and Victoria just continues to smile. Isabella looks suspiciously between them.
“Did something happen I don’t know about?” Instead of an answer, both Lauren and Alice look somewhere over Victoria’s shoulder. She doesn’t turn around, just continues to enjoy her coffee and waits. She has no trouble finding out when he approaches their table. If not by the look on Isabella’s face, it’s by the shadow he casts over them.
Only then she turns. “Did you have a good swim?” she asks with a smile and ignores everyone else around her. Bond finally looks a little healthier. She had pulled some strings to get him the best care and now there weren’t many remnants of the ugly purple bruises, just a very toned chest that went forever and ended in tiny black swimsuit. He looked gorgeous, and she could hear her daughter’s mother-in-law choking on her tea.
“Very relaxing,” he answers with a smile and nods to the company present before he lowers himself and kisses her passionately on the mouth. It feels like a reminder of last night when he had knocked on her hotel room door with a suitcase in his hand. She wouldn’t let him touch her before she was sure his ribs were properly healed and he flew over as soon as she agreed after consulting his physician. It was frustrating for both of them but the night seemed to make it all disappear.
Now the kiss feels like a beginning of something else and she slowly pushes him away. “You should get dressed; I’ll get you some breakfast in the meantime.” It feels strangely comfortable to have him here, to be able to touch him. She’s still afraid of too many things but she always knew how to take risks too.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, almost salutes, and a couple of snickers come from the other side of the table. Victoria glares their way but it’s only short-lived, the two innocent faces and one still shocked make her laugh instead.
“Don’t forget you’re taking me water-boarding later,” Alice pipes up looking straight at Bond.
“Yes, ma’am,” he repeats before disappearing with a big grin into the lobby.
“Water-boarding? Did we talk about this?” Lauren asks her daughter with a frown on her face, and while Alice uses her powers of manipulation and Lauren tries the same with parenting, Victoria finally faces Isabella.
“You know, you could’ve warned me,” Isabella says with a small smile. “Such a picture is dangerous for an older lady as me.”
Victoria just shrugs her shoulder and then they both burst into laughter, Alice soon joins them and Lauren just looks confused. The word “water-boarding” falls into the conversation a few more times, but she eventually gives up and then Bond comes back and promises many other things as well. Only later does she warn him that he’s a part of the family now, only later does he admit he’s glad about that.
end.
Fandom: James Bond (Daniel Craig Era)
Author:
karlamartinova
Beta: persiflage
Pairing: James Bond/M
Genre: Angst, General, AU
Rating: PG 13
Wordcount: 10 459 (5 630/ 4 829)
Disclaimer: Own nothing!
AN: The longest shit I have ever written!
Summary: Skyfall AU; M retires and everything just gets much more complicated.
.
part 1
It feels like they patched a crack on the wall with a tape. It can seem solid but fall off without any warning and they both know it, take careful steps forward and from time to time, one backwards. They talk about the service, remember sad times, and sometimes they together visit the cemetery without names on the gravestones.
“I used to cry every time I lost an agent but after few years, it just felt like a part of the job. Like I did it because it was expected and not because I felt it, they wanted me to be ruthless and cold, and it was much easier to obey,” she speaks as they walk side by side on the street.
Sometimes too close and sometimes too far, they’re looking for the right middle. “You did what you had to do to survive, if you showed emotion they would have replaced you with a faceless bureaucrat in a heartbeat,” he speaks like he understands and Victoria watches his face, he understands and to this moment he doesn't know he does. Their lives are intertwining more and more, they’re beginning to see the things the same way the other one does. She feels on the edge of a cliff.
They stop at a crossing, mixing with other people and they could be mother and son, aunt and nephew, and for a change Victoria enjoys blending somewhere else than just in the shadows. “You didn’t think about me this way before, did you?” she asks because she knows the answer and wants him to give her the same kind of honesty.
He looks sheepishly at her and then the green man lights up and they’re walking. “I called you a bitch, didn't I?” he notes with a smirk and she knows she got what she deserves. Marvels that they could be open, that they can really talk and maybe that’s one of the good things coming out of her retirement, and maybe she can finally see it.
“Noted,” she answers with a smile. He reaches the car first, opens the passenger door for her and then they’re driving back to her house talking about takeaway and how to spend the evening. They might put on the telly and then talk ignoring whatever they decided to put on or they could actually watch it. And the more Victoria thinks about him and her, the more she realizes he’s the first real friend she had.
Friendship with fellow agents was always dangerous, it could develop into something else, and there was always envy, and the possibility of one of them dying in the arms of the other. She made that mistake in the past, more than once, and now she hopes that whenever James Bond decides to die she won’t be anywhere close to witness it.
The door is open when they return to her house and a quick look passes between them but before he could decide what to use as a weapon Victoria remembers that she gave Lauren her key. Criminals usually don’t wear pink Adidas shoes either. “Lauren, Alice,” she calls only to have her granddaughter’s head poke out of the kitchen.
Her daughter follows closely after and when she sees her surprised face she realizes that Bond is still behind her.
“Mum, I’m sorry; I didn’t know you’d have company. We brought some food and movies, and I probably should’ve called.” She’s biting her lip and Victoria isn’t sure how ready she is to mix her two lives together. Bond seems to leave the situation to her because he’s completely still behind her, she doesn’t even hear him breathing.
“That’s okay, sweetheart.” She gets the easier words out and then takes a deep breath, then two and turns to him briefly. There’s a nod only she can see but it’s careful, he’s giving her the decision. “Lauren, this is James. James, my daughter Lauren and granddaughter Alice,” and just like that her lives merge. It’s a feeling unlike any other, but she knows more could be coming soon and she waits for it.
“I’m pleased to meet you both.” Bond moves past her and shakes Lauren’s hand, waves to Alice who comes out behind her mother with a smirk that looks too much like her grandmother’s. “I think I should leave you, family time is important,” he says with a smile and Victoria can see it doesn’t work on her daughter or granddaughter; they’re both looking at him suspiciously, but they don’t seem to be as shocked as she thought they might be. Both obviously thought that her friend James was much closer to her age, but neither of them lets it show. Maybe they expected it with all those secrets she kept from them.
“No, stay, we have enough food, besides we’re the ones who came without calling first. You should stay. If anyone should be leaving it’s us.” Victoria can see her daughter means it; she’s giving her a way out of this situation. They know there’re still parts of her she still isn’t ready to share but life has a funny way of showing us things we didn’t even know we needed.
“Nonsense, nobody’s leaving. Now show me what exactly you brought with you and James? Would you make us some tea?” He nods, leads the way into the kitchen and all three of them follow. And then they’re talking, preparing plates and nobody asks any difficult questions. Most of the things are never planned, they come, surprise us, show us how strong we can be, and how easy is sometimes to handle the most difficult situations.
.
“He seems nice,” Lauren remarks over cup of tea. It’s not in a teasing or prying way but Victoria still smiles into her cup because it took her more than an hour to finally mention him. Last night was surprisingly relaxing and even though they talked about anything other than their past, James engaged in conversations with both Lauren and Alice. He was remarkably natural and Victoria realized she was still thinking about him as the ruthless murderer MI6 paid him to be.
“Mmm,” she sighs not sure where this conversation is heading. Yesterday only proved to her that she needs to let Lauren come to the questions her own way, although meeting James Bond was a much bigger leap she expected. She won’t take it back, but she won’t let her provoke her to answers she isn’t ready to give either.
“So, how long have you known him?” she asks a little too quickly and continues sipping her tea like it was someone else who just asked the question. It’s so unlike her that Victoria knows that it's not just her life is slowly changing, Lauren’s is too, just because her mother is finally really talking to her.
She thinks about it, counts years in her head, but Lauren doesn’t want a number. Her daughter wants to know why that man knows more of her secrets, why him, and maybe she has an answer now. But there’re far too many things to take into consideration before the finality sinks in. It’s difficult to think about her life this way because now it isn’t about decisions and orders and death, it’s all about her, and running away doesn’t work anymore. She wishes it would.
She smiles at her daughter then, takes one of her hands into hers. “A little too long, sweetheart,” Victoria answers and watches her face, her eyes and to her delight, she sees understanding and knows, that Lauren heard everything she had wanted to say. Thank you’s are dancing at the end of her tongue and she lets them.
Bond comes after Lauren leaves; it’s not deliberate, at least not to her knowledge. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says after he hangs his coat behind her door. She’s not sure what kind of reaction he expects so she offers him a drink. She has one too, tries to drown every question she would like to ask, but he’s not there to get debriefed and she gladly stops analysing why he keeps coming back.
“Lauren asked about you,” she says instead and watches a grin spread along his mouth. Something hurts close to her heart but she ignores it, she’s beyond that now.
“She’s you,” he says. “Intelligent and warm and always knows when to ask the right questions.” His voice is warm too, like he’s delighted to know all this, like by knowing Lauren, he knows her better now too. He probably does because watching her daughter’s life tells her a story of how her own might have gone if she said “no” instead of “yes”. And it wouldn’t have been a bad life and she might have been a completely different person now, but regret is unprofessional and she believes in it despite everything.
“Yes, she is.” She smiles to herself and then reaches towards the phone before sentimentality will change this evening in something unexpected. She orders food, makes him prepare plates and tea, and it’s like any other evening in the last few months and Victoria wonders if she’s the only one feeling the change. When he says goodbye she has her answer.
.
She knew writing was difficult, she wrote more reports she would ever be able to reflect on. Dozens per day, thousands in a month, and it was about how her job was useful and how her agents were risking their lives for bureaucrats sitting in leather chairs, and it was never enough. She’s able to swallow the bitterness now but writing it down brings all those memories back.
It makes her remember Alfred and her fingers shake when she types down his name. It’s not his real name, of course, but one she assigned to him because she remembers seeing his mother at the funeral, her knees buckling, her posture crumbling, and she was then a nameless face in the crowd because she wasn’t really supposed to be there. She wasn’t supposed to love him either.
“You got lost?” he had asked her the first time they met. It was in the training and she knew who he was and he knew who she was too. They were recruited the same day, on the same grounds but not together because a boy from a wealthy family wouldn’t talk to a girl who cuts her hair short and wears grey sweaters to disappear.
But they decided they should work together, that they fitted, and Victoria had hated them for that decision, hated how very small he made her feel in those first days. Then they had nearly died and the story continued very differently.
She stops typing, makes herself stand and reach for the photo album. There aren’t any pictures of Alfred in them, she burnt them, every single one, when there was a chance someone might find out about them, about stolen kisses and a baby that could never be born. She looks at the picture of her husband instead, she’s there sitting next to him and she remembers how long it had taken her to fall in love.
She’s still sitting behind her desk with the open photo album when the doorbell rings. She expects Clara and Isabella, they wanted to stop by to discuss the holidays, so she quickly puts it down and goes to the door.
“Grandma has flu and mum stayed with her. She told me to bring you these.” Alice doesn’t waste the time with greeting and just pushes the catalogues into her hands. There’s forwardness about her that Victoria always found very endearing, Alice knows how to play a good girl but she prefers not to, and they all know she could do anything she wants to.
“Thank you, Alice. Want to join me for tea?” she asks and steps away, with everything that's happening and the secrets slowly coming to the surface, Victoria didn’t really have time to talk with her about it. She could imagine her figuring out a few things on her own but if there was any confusion, she felt better clearing it away without Lauren listening to that conversation.
“Maybe a sherry?” Alice winks at her as she walks past into the living room.
“Maybe in about 5 years, missy. Now sit down and think about what I should tell your mum and grandmother about the whole holiday business,” she tells her, and walks straight to the kitchen. Their whole family were proper Brits and tea got consumed on daily basis, it was lovely to know her granddaughter inherited it as well.
When she comes back into the living room, Alice isn’t anywhere in sight. Shuffling noises from the library help her to locate her pretty quickly. She’s looking through the album when she enters. “Sorry, I can never resist a closed door,” she notes with a grin and comes closer with the book still in her hands.
“Is this grandfather?” she asks showing her the picture Victoria had looked at earlier.
She nods and Alice continues to look through it, smiling at the pictures of her mother as a baby. “How did you meet?” The last picture she looks at is their wedding photo, which probably evokes the question.
“In a hospital naturally, I needed to remove some stitches and he invited me for a coffee afterwards,” she says with a smile, much darker memories are emerging as well. It was just weeks after Alfred had died in her arms and going out with another man wasn’t on her mind at all.
“I see, so granddad was a smooth talker,” Alice notes with a smile. “It seems it worked.”
“Yes, you coming? The tea is getting cold.” She wasn’t ready for her memories to overwhelm her like this but today she had already thought about Alfred, maybe connected his fate with Bond’s in her head, and now she wants to forget that it ever occurred to her. Even being sentimental means you can get hurt, death hurts the people you leave behind, it hurts even more when you finally realize what they mean to you.
Alice follows her, closes the door and she realizes she hopes that by that she’s closing this particular topic as well. She wonders if it’s because Bond is on mission or did the memories really take such a toll on her? Victoria managed to evade them for such a long time, pretended they never happened and swore herself to never love anyone one who might die in her arms. Reginald didn’t, it was a lonely hospital bed, and she wasn’t anywhere near when he took his last breath. Guilt had found her then but secretly, she was glad.
It takes her two minutes and two sips to be back at the questioning. “What are you writing at your computer? I saw an open document.” Alice continues to sip her tea pretending that she isn’t all that interested, but Victoria had long ago learnt to read body language and it seems that her granddaughter had been collecting questions for quite a long time. She can’t really blame her.
“I’m writing my memoirs or trying to; it’s too bloody difficult,” she answers because avoiding it won’t be the best course of action, Alice is curious, much more than her mother and Victoria can’t help but admire it. She isn’t nosy, nor is she going to pass it along. She just wants to know.
Her eyes go wide and her lips move already but the question is stuck somewhere between propriety and Victoria’s willingness to answer. It takes only seconds and Alice asks with straightness that makes her grandmother even more proud, maybe she should rethink the possibility of her future.
“So you really were a spy?” It sounds like a question and if it would be written down one day, a question mark would be at the end, but it’s a statement and she doesn’t feel the need to nod because Alice almost drops her cup when no response comes back at her. “That Bond is one too, isn’t he? Is he keeping you safe?”
“No, he’s here for completely other reasons,” she says with a smile and only then realizes that she's guided the conversation into waters that aren’t exactly safer.
“And those are?” Alice asks and shuffles closer on the couch. She has a devilish glint in her eye and Victoria knows she should end this conversation right now, because that’s a question she only allowed herself to speculate about. She isn’t ready to let go of reasons why it would be a bad idea, whatever “it” might be and yes, she touched his face and he held her hand, and it could mean absolutely nothing.
But she’s a pragmatic woman too, emotions brought her grief so she ignored them, and suddenly the answer looks clear. He kept coming back because he wanted to, he gave her space when it became apparent she wasn't ready to analyse the possibility of their relationship changing. He accepted her, understood her, and wanted her family to know about him. And there were pros and cons and a whole list of reasons, but she won’t allow it to confuse her.
“Because I think, he wants to,” the pragmatic part of her answers and even though it might not be true, somehow she knows it is.
.
She doesn’t hear him knocking. He always knocks even though she has a doorbell. It’s more personal, only people who aren’t allowed inside use the bell. It’s a stupid logic but she understands. But when she isn’t downstairs, she doesn’t hear him.
So when she turns around and sees him leaning on her bedroom doorframe, she almost has a heart attack. “Sorry, I knocked,” he says apologetically. She sends him a glare.
“Next time try to sneak upon me a little more loudly, will you?” She continues to pack, only two more shirts, and then she closes the suitcase and faces him. He looks injured, there aren’t many bruises on his face but his whole posture screams pain, and she wants to ask about it but she doesn’t, not now.
Bond notices the suitcase. “Sorry, travelling somewhere?”
“French Coast, Lauren mentioned it last time you met, remember?” Lauren told her to invite him too, somewhere between her talk with Alice and now, and she thought she might have underestimated her granddaughter. It feels wrong though and she realized she underestimated her daughter instead. Both of them learnt how to read her, how to know which words she really means and what really is important. They probably knew it sooner than she did.
“Yes, I think,” he says and looks away. He looks like he might be sulking and she walks up to him and motions to the bag he’s holding in his hand. “Oh, yes, brought some dinner.”
“That could save you. Maybe we could sit down in the living room and have some telly on?” she suggests and Bonds nods already turning around and walking. She walks behind him watching his slow steps, he winces when he starts to climb down the stairs.
She can’t it help now. “What happened?” He stops and looks at her.
“Just a little run in with an Audi A4,” he’s grinning but she can see beyond that and just shakes her head. She doesn’t feel like mothering him, she doesn’t have the right and it’s too soon to express her worry. Besides he knows she worries, she has written it on her face, every single line is a near death experience. There aren’t all his, there’re far too many for that.
Sometimes she likes to think they’re her sins, the guilt she collected through the years, it just needed a way to show itself to the world. Yes, it’s age too but there are lines much deeper than those on her face which hurt much more than those that people could see.
They sit down, nibble on the food and enjoy the peace that wasn’t allowed to her for so many years. But she knows that eventually this will change too and maybe she could make the change now, to tell him that fear is both known and unknown to her and together they could figure it out. And she’s preparing words, phrases, how to tell all those things right.
Bond falls asleep before she has a chance to and she feels frustrated, wired, there’s unknown energy going through her veins and she needs to let it out, to tell him. But he’s sleeping so peacefully, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm, and eventually she gives up and tidies up the rest of the food. Irritation is making her move and she ends up cleaning the kitchen, putting cups from one cupboard into other, and it’s all unnecessary but she needs the activity, needs to think about other things because she feels she might otherwise go crazy.
It takes her another 30 minutes to go back to the living room, he’s still sleeping peacefully but as soon as she covers him with a blanket he begins to trash around. His eyes open a little too quickly and he looks disoriented. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You can take the guest room if you want.” She motions up the stairs but he shakes his head.
“No, sorry, I didn’t plan on falling asleep,” he says and his breaths are getting heavier, it must hurt him. She remembers the pain, remembers having broken ribs and punctured lungs, and how it was difficult to take a breath. And nightmares making your eyes snap open in the middle of the night, the light was always gone and sometimes she was afraid she’d gone blind from the terror. He looks like he knows the same feeling too.
“Take a deep breath.” She keeps her voice down, tries to sound warm and calming. She rounds the couch and sits down next to him. “Slowly. Slowly,” she repeats it over and over. He’s looking straight at her and there’s something unreadable in his eyes, something like wonder and she understands. Only Alfred had known how to make her relax after a nightmare and after his death, there was no one.
His breathing slowly comes back to normal and when he puts his hands on his thighs, they’re not shaking. She takes it as a good sign.
“Better?” she asks carefully and he nods, manages a small smile and it warms her heart. She helped him, like Alfred used to help her. Maybe there really is a chance for her, them. And then she remembers the danger and worry and reaches out, slowly lifts up his shirt and uncovers ugly purple bruises.
He sucks in a breath and she looks up, looking for a sign to stop, but Bond doesn’t give her one and she touches his stomach with the ends of her fingers, trails along the biggest bruise, feels the hot swollen flesh, and imagines all the worry that will torment her daily. Is it worth it? And then she remembers how she didn’t used to worry because it was her life on the line too and it still might be, she isn’t young anymore, her heart might stop any moment, some old enemy might come back and kill her. Regret is unprofessional, she had said to Silva, but it's better not to have any.
Her hand is still resting on his stomach and she makes her decision and looks up, and he somehow knows. Maybe she wore her secrets on her face all the time and maybe only he knows them without her telling him. His hands finds her face and although they're usually rough, they feel soft, James tugs slowly and she follows, feels the muscles in his stomach flex and raises herself on her knees so he doesn’t have to bend.
The kiss starts from a weird angle and they need to move around to find the right position but the waiting makes it sweeter. And then she’s sitting on his thighs taking care not to lean on his stomach, and he’s holding her by her hips and their kisses are getting more heated. She needs too much willpower to stop but he’s hurt and needs to get better so they have time to analyse what’s happening.
“We need to stop,” Victoria whispers, her lips just a millimetre away from his.
“No,” he mumbles and pulls her back and she lets him because she'd forgotten how good it feel to let someone kiss you, to let them show you everything by the touch of their lips, slow means sensual, quick means want and passion, and she knows she wants all that but not now. She wants him whole.
“Yes,” she says and tears herself away from him. “You need to get better first. Now let me put you to bed.”
She stretches her hand to him and he takes it. There’s a new kind of grin on his face she never saw him wear before, but has a feeling she might see it much more in the future. She tugs him up the stairs, he goes willingly but she has a feeling she could have trouble persuading him that he needs to sleep in the guest room, at least tonight.
.
“Good morning, Victoria,” Isabella says cheerfully as she sits down across from her. She smiles as a greeting and continues to sip her morning coffee. The sun is already wonderfully warming up her skin and she’s enjoying herself. It’s the first real vacation she's had in decades and at first she was afraid she'd be bored most of the time. Well, she could imagine some more excitement but the days aren’t as dull as she'd expected, and especially after last night she expects few things to change.
Lauren and Alice join them shortly afterwards. “How are you today?” she asks her mother with a glint in her eye and Victoria just continues to smile. Isabella looks suspiciously between them.
“Did something happen I don’t know about?” Instead of an answer, both Lauren and Alice look somewhere over Victoria’s shoulder. She doesn’t turn around, just continues to enjoy her coffee and waits. She has no trouble finding out when he approaches their table. If not by the look on Isabella’s face, it’s by the shadow he casts over them.
Only then she turns. “Did you have a good swim?” she asks with a smile and ignores everyone else around her. Bond finally looks a little healthier. She had pulled some strings to get him the best care and now there weren’t many remnants of the ugly purple bruises, just a very toned chest that went forever and ended in tiny black swimsuit. He looked gorgeous, and she could hear her daughter’s mother-in-law choking on her tea.
“Very relaxing,” he answers with a smile and nods to the company present before he lowers himself and kisses her passionately on the mouth. It feels like a reminder of last night when he had knocked on her hotel room door with a suitcase in his hand. She wouldn’t let him touch her before she was sure his ribs were properly healed and he flew over as soon as she agreed after consulting his physician. It was frustrating for both of them but the night seemed to make it all disappear.
Now the kiss feels like a beginning of something else and she slowly pushes him away. “You should get dressed; I’ll get you some breakfast in the meantime.” It feels strangely comfortable to have him here, to be able to touch him. She’s still afraid of too many things but she always knew how to take risks too.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, almost salutes, and a couple of snickers come from the other side of the table. Victoria glares their way but it’s only short-lived, the two innocent faces and one still shocked make her laugh instead.
“Don’t forget you’re taking me water-boarding later,” Alice pipes up looking straight at Bond.
“Yes, ma’am,” he repeats before disappearing with a big grin into the lobby.
“Water-boarding? Did we talk about this?” Lauren asks her daughter with a frown on her face, and while Alice uses her powers of manipulation and Lauren tries the same with parenting, Victoria finally faces Isabella.
“You know, you could’ve warned me,” Isabella says with a small smile. “Such a picture is dangerous for an older lady as me.”
Victoria just shrugs her shoulder and then they both burst into laughter, Alice soon joins them and Lauren just looks confused. The word “water-boarding” falls into the conversation a few more times, but she eventually gives up and then Bond comes back and promises many other things as well. Only later does she warn him that he’s a part of the family now, only later does he admit he’s glad about that.
end.