Last Gasp (J/A) (2/47)
This fic is rated: D for Disturbing
Fandom: James Bond: Goldeneye
Characters/Pairing: James/Alec
Summary: Sequel to Broken for Me. Alec has a moment of lucidity.
Word Count: 1,447
Warnings: Imagery of severe physical trauma (dropped a few hundred feet), brainwashing and implied previous man-sex might be squicks.
This series contains sex that, while nominally consensual, takes place during and after brainwashing. As the character is incapable of giving any meaningful consent, the sex in the story would legally and ethically be considered rape. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Feedback: yes, please!
My FanFic Masterlist
The Complete Saga
Chapter One
X-Posted: forengland, were_lemur
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond. I don't own Alec Trevelyan either (alas), nor any other characters mentioned in this fic. James, Alec, etc. are all property of Ian Fleming and MGM. I'm just playing with them for a while. Not making any money, don't have any money, please don't sue!
“James.”
His own voice sounded hollow in his ears; he could barely hear it. But James did. Instantly, he was at his side, brushing the hair back from his forehead, leaning in close to hear his words, to provide comfort and relief.
Alec was insanely grateful for his presence. And this did not bode well for his psyche.
“Can I get you something, Alec? Ice?”
“Yes,” he heard himself saying.
Then James was gone. Alec could hear his footsteps retreating, the door opening and closing. He found himself counting seconds, one-one-thousand two-one-thousand three-one-thousand.
At forty-eight-one-thousand -- an eternity later-- he heard the door open and then close again. He twisted his head against the cervical collar, desperate for the sight of James, but all he could do was stare straight ahead and wait and count footsteps. Nine footsteps, back across the room, nine measured treads, an eternity, an agony of anticipation.
He hated himself, hated his weakness, hated how puppy-eager he was for the moment when Bond’s face would appear in his peripheral vision.
And then he was back. Alec felt himself relax, warm-cool-pleasure flooding over him. James was back. He’d be taken care of. Hand in the cup of ice, then moving to his face. Cool-cool-relief against his lips, sliding into his mouth. He held the chip of ice there, let it melt and finally slide, cool, down his throat. A moan of pleasure escaped him, to thrum against James’s fingers.
“That’s it,” James murmured. “That’s better.”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?” James’s face above him -- filling the whole world -- grew worried.
Alec scraped the last of his rage -- the last he feared he would ever have -- and flung it at James. “Everything!” he cried, in a voice that felt like it would crack. He wanted more ice, wanted James to feed him more ice, and tell him that it was all better. But he had just enough of himself left for one last stand, and one last chance to make it. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I’m trying to take care of you. Trying to help -- “
“Forced dependence. Control of pain and relief. Isolation.” He had to fight to get the words out. “Classic brainwashing techniques, James. We’ve both studied them.”
He braced himself for the reprisal, knowing that he deserved it. But to his surprise, James laid one cool hand on his hot forehead. “Alec, shhhh… you’ve been through a rough time. I’m not surprised you’re looking for someone to blame.”
Damn him. If only he’d get angry. If only he’d rage, hit, threaten to withhold drugs. But he was too smart for that. Too smart to give Alec anything to cling to. Now Alec had to sustain his rage all by himself.
“You bastard.” It came out more tired than angry. “You dropped me. Deliberately. Withheld treatment, withheld morphine. Made me scream. Made me wish I could speak, so I could beg you, beg you, to make the pain stop.”
“Alec, I -- “
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He closed his eyes, so he couldn’t see the wounded look James had plastered on his face. “You did this to me, you did it all, I know you did. I know what you’re doing.
“But do you know the worst part, James? The worst part is, it doesn’t matter. I know exactly what you’re doing, the techniques, the strategies, but none of that matters. It’s working.” He let out a breath that might have been a laugh, or maybe a sob. “Knowing doesn’t help. Makes it worse, in fact. Because I can feel myself slipping away, with every shot of morphine, every chip of ice, every kind gesture or moment of tenderness. You’re killing me, James, and sometimes, I welcome it.”
“Alec -- ” Fingers combing through his hair, and he craved the touch, would lean into it, if he were not restrained.
“Please. Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to isolate you, Alec; I’m trying to keep you safe. If MI-6 were to find you, they’d put a bullet in your head, no questions asked.”
“The bullet would be kinder, James, I’m drowning in you, dissolving. Soon there’ll be nothing left of me.” And would that be so bad? He shoved that thought down, refused to acknowledge it. “Please, James.” He knew he was begging, but was willing to try anything. “Please. Stop this. Before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“For me, James. Another day or two, and I’ll be nothing but a hollow shell, waiting for you to pour yourself into me.” And if that was what James wanted? An automaton, an Alec-shaped toy?
He raised his left hand, the only part of him that wasn’t bandaged into immobility, though it felt like moving it through cement, and touched James’s cheek. Traced his hand down to the corner of James’s mouth. “We were good together, once.”
“And we will be again.” James captured Alec’s hand, and kissed his fingertips, then the palm.
“No.” He tried to pull his hand away, but he didn’t have the strength. “Not like this. It won’t be ‘we’. It will only be you.”
“Alec. I’m sorry.” James began to rub Alec’s palm with his thumb, slow, gentle circles. “There’s so much I should have said years ago. So much I should have admitted.”
“Your love for me?” Alec twisted his lips into a bitter parody of a smile. “I killed that when I left you. When I betrayed you. When I tried to kill you. Three times, I tried. Not because I loved you, but because I hated you! I couldn’t bear the world if it had you in it, couldn’t bear knowing you were out there, somewhere, so I baited my trap, baited it just for you and waited. And you came -- ”
“But you didn’t kill me.” James’s voice was calm. “If you’d wanted me dead, you would have done it while I was unconscious. A bullet to the brain, and a second to make certain. You could have gone on to Cuba that night -- there was nothing stopping you. On the train, you didn’t have to give me three minutes. You could have set off the bomb as soon as you left.”
“I wanted to watch the light go out of your eyes. I wanted to be the last thing you saw, not that damn woman!
“So why didn’t you shoot me when you had the chance? At the top of the ladder -- you could have done it. So why wait?”
“Fuck you!” He drew a breath, and the dryness in his throat sent him into a coughing fit. The coughing started pains that had died down, ripping across his chest, erupting through his shoulder, and running down his limbs, bringing tears to his eyes. If he couldn’t stop coughing, it was going to get bad. But he couldn’t make himself stop. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, tried to get his breathing under control. But his throat was too dry.
And then he felt the cool smoothness of ice at his lips. He opened his mouth, let it slide in, sucked at it eagerly. Too soon, it was gone. He ran his tongue over his lips to capture the last of the moisture.
Then James was there, with more ice. This time, he let it melt slowly on his tongue. It felt so good. Better than alcohol. Better than sex.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“More?”
“Please.”
James placed the ice gently on Alec’s tongue. His fingers lingered for a moment, to trace his lips.
For a moment, Alec wished James would replace fingers with lips. Would feed him the ice mouth to mouth, melt it with the heat of his kiss. A soft moan escaped him, desire or despair, he could not have said which.
Fingers left his lips, moved to stroke his hair. “Do you want morphine?”
“Please,” he murmured, afraid James would change his mind. He wanted desperately not to think, almost as much as he wanted to not hurt. Or maybe they were one and the same, symptoms of the same cause, the penalty for hurting James?
He felt the needle’s kiss. James’s kiss, his blessing, bestowed unexpectedly; he would not have to scream to earn it. Not today. “Thank you,” he whispered, as the morphine began to work its magic, spreading through him like liquid warmth. “Thank you.”
“Shh. Sleep now. Heal.” James’s voice wrapped around him, soothing him, comforting him, protecting him from the pain of his shattered, betraying body.
James would keep him safe. James loved him, and that was all that mattered.
Next Chapter
Fandom: James Bond: Goldeneye
Characters/Pairing: James/Alec
Summary: Sequel to Broken for Me. Alec has a moment of lucidity.
Word Count: 1,447
Warnings: Imagery of severe physical trauma (dropped a few hundred feet), brainwashing and implied previous man-sex might be squicks.
This series contains sex that, while nominally consensual, takes place during and after brainwashing. As the character is incapable of giving any meaningful consent, the sex in the story would legally and ethically be considered rape. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Feedback: yes, please!
My FanFic Masterlist
The Complete Saga
Chapter One
X-Posted: forengland, were_lemur
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond. I don't own Alec Trevelyan either (alas), nor any other characters mentioned in this fic. James, Alec, etc. are all property of Ian Fleming and MGM. I'm just playing with them for a while. Not making any money, don't have any money, please don't sue!
“James.”
His own voice sounded hollow in his ears; he could barely hear it. But James did. Instantly, he was at his side, brushing the hair back from his forehead, leaning in close to hear his words, to provide comfort and relief.
Alec was insanely grateful for his presence. And this did not bode well for his psyche.
“Can I get you something, Alec? Ice?”
“Yes,” he heard himself saying.
Then James was gone. Alec could hear his footsteps retreating, the door opening and closing. He found himself counting seconds, one-one-thousand two-one-thousand three-one-thousand.
At forty-eight-one-thousand -- an eternity later-- he heard the door open and then close again. He twisted his head against the cervical collar, desperate for the sight of James, but all he could do was stare straight ahead and wait and count footsteps. Nine footsteps, back across the room, nine measured treads, an eternity, an agony of anticipation.
He hated himself, hated his weakness, hated how puppy-eager he was for the moment when Bond’s face would appear in his peripheral vision.
And then he was back. Alec felt himself relax, warm-cool-pleasure flooding over him. James was back. He’d be taken care of. Hand in the cup of ice, then moving to his face. Cool-cool-relief against his lips, sliding into his mouth. He held the chip of ice there, let it melt and finally slide, cool, down his throat. A moan of pleasure escaped him, to thrum against James’s fingers.
“That’s it,” James murmured. “That’s better.”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?” James’s face above him -- filling the whole world -- grew worried.
Alec scraped the last of his rage -- the last he feared he would ever have -- and flung it at James. “Everything!” he cried, in a voice that felt like it would crack. He wanted more ice, wanted James to feed him more ice, and tell him that it was all better. But he had just enough of himself left for one last stand, and one last chance to make it. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I’m trying to take care of you. Trying to help -- “
“Forced dependence. Control of pain and relief. Isolation.” He had to fight to get the words out. “Classic brainwashing techniques, James. We’ve both studied them.”
He braced himself for the reprisal, knowing that he deserved it. But to his surprise, James laid one cool hand on his hot forehead. “Alec, shhhh… you’ve been through a rough time. I’m not surprised you’re looking for someone to blame.”
Damn him. If only he’d get angry. If only he’d rage, hit, threaten to withhold drugs. But he was too smart for that. Too smart to give Alec anything to cling to. Now Alec had to sustain his rage all by himself.
“You bastard.” It came out more tired than angry. “You dropped me. Deliberately. Withheld treatment, withheld morphine. Made me scream. Made me wish I could speak, so I could beg you, beg you, to make the pain stop.”
“Alec, I -- “
“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He closed his eyes, so he couldn’t see the wounded look James had plastered on his face. “You did this to me, you did it all, I know you did. I know what you’re doing.
“But do you know the worst part, James? The worst part is, it doesn’t matter. I know exactly what you’re doing, the techniques, the strategies, but none of that matters. It’s working.” He let out a breath that might have been a laugh, or maybe a sob. “Knowing doesn’t help. Makes it worse, in fact. Because I can feel myself slipping away, with every shot of morphine, every chip of ice, every kind gesture or moment of tenderness. You’re killing me, James, and sometimes, I welcome it.”
“Alec -- ” Fingers combing through his hair, and he craved the touch, would lean into it, if he were not restrained.
“Please. Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to isolate you, Alec; I’m trying to keep you safe. If MI-6 were to find you, they’d put a bullet in your head, no questions asked.”
“The bullet would be kinder, James, I’m drowning in you, dissolving. Soon there’ll be nothing left of me.” And would that be so bad? He shoved that thought down, refused to acknowledge it. “Please, James.” He knew he was begging, but was willing to try anything. “Please. Stop this. Before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“For me, James. Another day or two, and I’ll be nothing but a hollow shell, waiting for you to pour yourself into me.” And if that was what James wanted? An automaton, an Alec-shaped toy?
He raised his left hand, the only part of him that wasn’t bandaged into immobility, though it felt like moving it through cement, and touched James’s cheek. Traced his hand down to the corner of James’s mouth. “We were good together, once.”
“And we will be again.” James captured Alec’s hand, and kissed his fingertips, then the palm.
“No.” He tried to pull his hand away, but he didn’t have the strength. “Not like this. It won’t be ‘we’. It will only be you.”
“Alec. I’m sorry.” James began to rub Alec’s palm with his thumb, slow, gentle circles. “There’s so much I should have said years ago. So much I should have admitted.”
“Your love for me?” Alec twisted his lips into a bitter parody of a smile. “I killed that when I left you. When I betrayed you. When I tried to kill you. Three times, I tried. Not because I loved you, but because I hated you! I couldn’t bear the world if it had you in it, couldn’t bear knowing you were out there, somewhere, so I baited my trap, baited it just for you and waited. And you came -- ”
“But you didn’t kill me.” James’s voice was calm. “If you’d wanted me dead, you would have done it while I was unconscious. A bullet to the brain, and a second to make certain. You could have gone on to Cuba that night -- there was nothing stopping you. On the train, you didn’t have to give me three minutes. You could have set off the bomb as soon as you left.”
“I wanted to watch the light go out of your eyes. I wanted to be the last thing you saw, not that damn woman!
“So why didn’t you shoot me when you had the chance? At the top of the ladder -- you could have done it. So why wait?”
“Fuck you!” He drew a breath, and the dryness in his throat sent him into a coughing fit. The coughing started pains that had died down, ripping across his chest, erupting through his shoulder, and running down his limbs, bringing tears to his eyes. If he couldn’t stop coughing, it was going to get bad. But he couldn’t make himself stop. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, tried to get his breathing under control. But his throat was too dry.
And then he felt the cool smoothness of ice at his lips. He opened his mouth, let it slide in, sucked at it eagerly. Too soon, it was gone. He ran his tongue over his lips to capture the last of the moisture.
Then James was there, with more ice. This time, he let it melt slowly on his tongue. It felt so good. Better than alcohol. Better than sex.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“More?”
“Please.”
James placed the ice gently on Alec’s tongue. His fingers lingered for a moment, to trace his lips.
For a moment, Alec wished James would replace fingers with lips. Would feed him the ice mouth to mouth, melt it with the heat of his kiss. A soft moan escaped him, desire or despair, he could not have said which.
Fingers left his lips, moved to stroke his hair. “Do you want morphine?”
“Please,” he murmured, afraid James would change his mind. He wanted desperately not to think, almost as much as he wanted to not hurt. Or maybe they were one and the same, symptoms of the same cause, the penalty for hurting James?
He felt the needle’s kiss. James’s kiss, his blessing, bestowed unexpectedly; he would not have to scream to earn it. Not today. “Thank you,” he whispered, as the morphine began to work its magic, spreading through him like liquid warmth. “Thank you.”
“Shh. Sleep now. Heal.” James’s voice wrapped around him, soothing him, comforting him, protecting him from the pain of his shattered, betraying body.
James would keep him safe. James loved him, and that was all that mattered.
Next Chapter