Life in Motion
Title: Life in Motion
Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva aka Bond/Silva, Q/Moneypenny aka £Q
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,433
Summary: Silva and Bond revisit the glass cage, but with different results. Part of Towards Dawn.
A/N: I guess this fic also fills one of the 00Silva-exchange's (tumblr) prompts? Sort of? Idk how that happened. Got cages on the mind man.
James straightens his tie and his suit before entering MI6. For a moment he thinks that he’s going to be arrested for treason the second he steps into the building, but he isn’t. Instead M meets him at the door. M is tightlipped, his face tense. That tells James all he needs to know, it’s going to be a long day. He tries to keep his face impassive while M tells him about the capture of Raoul Silva. About how surprised he was to see the man in London. Makes remarks about how sloppy Silva was, how easy to capture him it was. How Silva fled but wasn’t able to get far. The whole thing makes James’ head hurt. But he nods and yes sirs, no sirs when he needs too.
They walk to his office and James sits down in the chair. He knows that M will get to the point in time. So he sits there trying not to think about Silva, about everything, about how much he might lose. Finally M looks at him, “He’s not speaking.”
He stops to hand something to Eve who has come into the secondary office. They are still underground for the most part. There is a small group that works above ground as a front, but M had taken to the underground space and so it had stayed. Eve looks at him, while she’s standing there signing whatever it is that he handed her. Her face is pinched, but for the most part she doesn’t look afraid. He realizes then that he’s not alone. She hands the document back to M and he signals her to go with a smile and a nod.
M turns back to look at him, “What I mean to say is that he’s speaking. He just won’t speak to anyone, anyone but you.” M looks frustrated.
“You want me to speak to him.” James says it like a question.
“We need to know what he knows, if he’s hiding anything else. And we have to know it sometime over the weekend. I’ve already spoken to the Prime Minster, considering his prior crimes she agrees with me. He will be sent to Her Majesty’s Super Max Belmarsh, no later than Monday.”
Something in James’ throat tightens. Silva will die there, his soul will be crushed there. He remembers the helpless look in Silva’s eyes when he had been tied to the chair. His cries of fear, so rarely shown. Part of him wishes to reach across the desk and smash M’s face into the desk. Can feel the undercurrent of his violent tendencies so often kept under check boiling inside of him. You do not understand he wants to say, the Raoul Silva you met is no longer the Raoul Silva you know. But that would be to admit his own treason, his own dealings in the shaping of this Raoul Silva. It wouldn’t mater anyway, even if he was in court, he could yell and he could shout but he’s sure the sentence would be the same, “I’ll do as you command.” He says, face betraying nothing of his inner musings.
M nods curtly, “Nothing more 007. You may go.”
He stands tugging down the lapels of his shirt. He walks over to where Q is hammering away at his keyboard. The closer he looks the more he realizes that frankly, Q looks bored. His eyes droop just a little and his tie is a bit off, “I have a project for you.”
Q looks up at him his fingers stilling, “Something more interesting than this I hope.”
“Much more.” James tries to look friendly but his eyes are hard.
He gestures for Q to follow him and they walk off into the direction of the male’s locker room. It’s the only place James knows that doesn’t have cameras. When he turns back to look at Q he can tell that Q already has come to correctly deduce the exact reason James has brought him here. He leans back against one of the lockers, “It was an eventuality Bond. You must know that.”
James laughs bitter, “Perhaps.” He pauses, “That’s not why I wished to speak to you.”
“Oh?”
“I want to speak to him, without all the,” he gestures, “security.”
Q gets this look on his face, something between worry for a friend and deep concentration, “Are you thinking about committing treason 007?”
“That’s classified.” The truth is he hasn’t figured out if he is yet either, “Can you do it?”
Q glowers at him, “Of course I can do it. Give me a few minutes then you can go chat to your lover as much as you wish.”
It takes a moment for what Q says to sink in, but by the time it has Q is already gone. He gives himself a moment to gather his wits. Walks over the sink and splashes a little ice-cold water on his face. It gives him the shock he was looking for. He glances at the clock on the wall and after about ten minutes have passed he walks back outside. When he enters back into the main room Q gives him a little wave, which he supposes is Q’s way of telling him it’s done. The walk to the cell room feels like one of the longest walks of his life. When he gets to the door he shoos off the guards and they fall back down the hallway.
He keys open the door and it unfrosts and then slides open. Silva looks up from where he is sitting. He is dressed in white again. His posture is still not as confidant, but he still sits like a snake. The whole thing is eerily familiar, but the circumstances could not be any different. They stare at each other for a moment and James realizes that the moment he came to MI6 this morning his mind was made up. He takes a small moment to wonder if Q is recording this and then decides he doesn’t care. For some reason he trusts Q. Hopes his trust isn’t unfounded, “Q is blocking the surveillance.”
It’s amazing to watch the way that Silva’s body language changes, the way his body slumps just a little more but how his eyes become darker, more dangerous. He is like a snake uncurling after a threat has come near to challenge it and then scurried away to find better pray, “For me James? You’ve been a bit naughty. Mummy wouldn’t be pleased.”
Mummy is dead hangs between them but James doesn’t say anything. That topic is light, and hardly weights anything anymore, “Not so long ago you told me a story about two rats, about how they could either eat each other or eat everyone else.”
The cage almost lights up with Silva’s laugh, “This is not story time dear James.”
James doesn’t argue that point but forges on, “It is important that you let me finish love.” He waits to see if Silva says anything else, when the man doesn’t he continues, “I still do not want to eat everyone else. But I do not think I can bring myself to be the last rat standing again.” He pauses, “But I cannot stop who I am either, cannot let go of my need to protect. You or this country.”
Silva leans forward in his chair, “Oh James, now you have gotten me all a flutter. Just what are you suggesting?”
“They are planning to send you to a Super Max.” James tells him, “I cannot let this happen, but I have to know you won’t hurt anyone any more. Not unless the ruddy bastard deserves it.”
Silva looks James dead in the eye, “I can make no true promises dear…” he stops, “But I do need my creature comforts.”
It is the best confession he knows he will get out of Silva. The man will always be a bit crazy, a bit insane. But he has been mellowed a bit by M’s death. He will not bring the world to ruin unless pushed, “If this were a psychology exam I dare say you would have passed.” He tells Silva.
“This endless flattery will get you nowhere.” Silva says, “But you dance around the subject. Like a shy butterfly who has seen flame for the first time. Tell me your plans.”
The words stick in his throat, worse than honey, worse than tar, “Treason.”
The gleam in Silva’s eyes, the one that belongs to killer Silva brightens and for a moment, James finds himself blind.
Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva aka Bond/Silva, Q/Moneypenny aka £Q
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,433
Summary: Silva and Bond revisit the glass cage, but with different results. Part of Towards Dawn.
A/N: I guess this fic also fills one of the 00Silva-exchange's (tumblr) prompts? Sort of? Idk how that happened. Got cages on the mind man.
James straightens his tie and his suit before entering MI6. For a moment he thinks that he’s going to be arrested for treason the second he steps into the building, but he isn’t. Instead M meets him at the door. M is tightlipped, his face tense. That tells James all he needs to know, it’s going to be a long day. He tries to keep his face impassive while M tells him about the capture of Raoul Silva. About how surprised he was to see the man in London. Makes remarks about how sloppy Silva was, how easy to capture him it was. How Silva fled but wasn’t able to get far. The whole thing makes James’ head hurt. But he nods and yes sirs, no sirs when he needs too.
They walk to his office and James sits down in the chair. He knows that M will get to the point in time. So he sits there trying not to think about Silva, about everything, about how much he might lose. Finally M looks at him, “He’s not speaking.”
He stops to hand something to Eve who has come into the secondary office. They are still underground for the most part. There is a small group that works above ground as a front, but M had taken to the underground space and so it had stayed. Eve looks at him, while she’s standing there signing whatever it is that he handed her. Her face is pinched, but for the most part she doesn’t look afraid. He realizes then that he’s not alone. She hands the document back to M and he signals her to go with a smile and a nod.
M turns back to look at him, “What I mean to say is that he’s speaking. He just won’t speak to anyone, anyone but you.” M looks frustrated.
“You want me to speak to him.” James says it like a question.
“We need to know what he knows, if he’s hiding anything else. And we have to know it sometime over the weekend. I’ve already spoken to the Prime Minster, considering his prior crimes she agrees with me. He will be sent to Her Majesty’s Super Max Belmarsh, no later than Monday.”
Something in James’ throat tightens. Silva will die there, his soul will be crushed there. He remembers the helpless look in Silva’s eyes when he had been tied to the chair. His cries of fear, so rarely shown. Part of him wishes to reach across the desk and smash M’s face into the desk. Can feel the undercurrent of his violent tendencies so often kept under check boiling inside of him. You do not understand he wants to say, the Raoul Silva you met is no longer the Raoul Silva you know. But that would be to admit his own treason, his own dealings in the shaping of this Raoul Silva. It wouldn’t mater anyway, even if he was in court, he could yell and he could shout but he’s sure the sentence would be the same, “I’ll do as you command.” He says, face betraying nothing of his inner musings.
M nods curtly, “Nothing more 007. You may go.”
He stands tugging down the lapels of his shirt. He walks over to where Q is hammering away at his keyboard. The closer he looks the more he realizes that frankly, Q looks bored. His eyes droop just a little and his tie is a bit off, “I have a project for you.”
Q looks up at him his fingers stilling, “Something more interesting than this I hope.”
“Much more.” James tries to look friendly but his eyes are hard.
He gestures for Q to follow him and they walk off into the direction of the male’s locker room. It’s the only place James knows that doesn’t have cameras. When he turns back to look at Q he can tell that Q already has come to correctly deduce the exact reason James has brought him here. He leans back against one of the lockers, “It was an eventuality Bond. You must know that.”
James laughs bitter, “Perhaps.” He pauses, “That’s not why I wished to speak to you.”
“Oh?”
“I want to speak to him, without all the,” he gestures, “security.”
Q gets this look on his face, something between worry for a friend and deep concentration, “Are you thinking about committing treason 007?”
“That’s classified.” The truth is he hasn’t figured out if he is yet either, “Can you do it?”
Q glowers at him, “Of course I can do it. Give me a few minutes then you can go chat to your lover as much as you wish.”
It takes a moment for what Q says to sink in, but by the time it has Q is already gone. He gives himself a moment to gather his wits. Walks over the sink and splashes a little ice-cold water on his face. It gives him the shock he was looking for. He glances at the clock on the wall and after about ten minutes have passed he walks back outside. When he enters back into the main room Q gives him a little wave, which he supposes is Q’s way of telling him it’s done. The walk to the cell room feels like one of the longest walks of his life. When he gets to the door he shoos off the guards and they fall back down the hallway.
He keys open the door and it unfrosts and then slides open. Silva looks up from where he is sitting. He is dressed in white again. His posture is still not as confidant, but he still sits like a snake. The whole thing is eerily familiar, but the circumstances could not be any different. They stare at each other for a moment and James realizes that the moment he came to MI6 this morning his mind was made up. He takes a small moment to wonder if Q is recording this and then decides he doesn’t care. For some reason he trusts Q. Hopes his trust isn’t unfounded, “Q is blocking the surveillance.”
It’s amazing to watch the way that Silva’s body language changes, the way his body slumps just a little more but how his eyes become darker, more dangerous. He is like a snake uncurling after a threat has come near to challenge it and then scurried away to find better pray, “For me James? You’ve been a bit naughty. Mummy wouldn’t be pleased.”
Mummy is dead hangs between them but James doesn’t say anything. That topic is light, and hardly weights anything anymore, “Not so long ago you told me a story about two rats, about how they could either eat each other or eat everyone else.”
The cage almost lights up with Silva’s laugh, “This is not story time dear James.”
James doesn’t argue that point but forges on, “It is important that you let me finish love.” He waits to see if Silva says anything else, when the man doesn’t he continues, “I still do not want to eat everyone else. But I do not think I can bring myself to be the last rat standing again.” He pauses, “But I cannot stop who I am either, cannot let go of my need to protect. You or this country.”
Silva leans forward in his chair, “Oh James, now you have gotten me all a flutter. Just what are you suggesting?”
“They are planning to send you to a Super Max.” James tells him, “I cannot let this happen, but I have to know you won’t hurt anyone any more. Not unless the ruddy bastard deserves it.”
Silva looks James dead in the eye, “I can make no true promises dear…” he stops, “But I do need my creature comforts.”
It is the best confession he knows he will get out of Silva. The man will always be a bit crazy, a bit insane. But he has been mellowed a bit by M’s death. He will not bring the world to ruin unless pushed, “If this were a psychology exam I dare say you would have passed.” He tells Silva.
“This endless flattery will get you nowhere.” Silva says, “But you dance around the subject. Like a shy butterfly who has seen flame for the first time. Tell me your plans.”
The words stick in his throat, worse than honey, worse than tar, “Treason.”
The gleam in Silva’s eyes, the one that belongs to killer Silva brightens and for a moment, James finds himself blind.