Out of ... (J/A) (25/?)
This fic is rated: T for Taking a Break from the Secks and Violence
Fandom: James Bond: Goldeneye
Characters/Pairing: James/Alec
Summary: James goes to London to pick up the Doc.
Warnings: none
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.
Word Count: 483
Feedback: yes, please!
X-Posted: were_lemur, forengland
Series Master List
Chapter One
Previous Chapter
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond. I don't own Alec Trevelyan either (alas), nor any other recognizable 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!
A/N: Forgive the delay, please; I was busy NaNo-ing.
James strode impatiently down the street of the East End, toward the clinic. He shifted the bag from the bookshop in his hand -- full of paperbacks and a crossword magazine, to keep Alec entertained -- and sidestepped a pair of shoppers. They glared at him but kept moving.
Alec had turned a corner; he was more alert, but also restless and frequently bored. James had forgotten how badly he reacted to the enforced inactivity of convalescence. Last night, he'd kept James up half the night, talking about anything he could think of. Old missions, office gossip, books -- both fiction and non, football ... anything to keep from having to lie awake. Keeping Alec amused had become a full-time job, and a surprisingly exhausting one at that.
Alec hadn't been happy about him leaving, either, even for a few hours. James thought it would do him good to have time to think about what his life would be like alone. Let Alec miss him, let him be grateful when he came back.
He'd left his watch with Alec, but he had Alec's watch in his pocket. He'd tell him that the doctor had found it. She'd back him up -- what choice did she have? He'd have to keep an eye on her, though; she'd made her unhappiness more than clear two weeks ago, when he'd dragged her out in the middle of the night.
It was time, he decided, to re-establish control, both of the Doctor and, when he got back, over Alec. He could play themselves off against each other; subtly hint to the doctor that Alec was using her, and then let her do the rest when she got there. Hell hath no fury ...
By the time he reached the clinic, he was in a good mood. He walked in -- and found it unusually empty, only a few nurses and patients.
He walked up to the desk. "Can you tell the doctor that Mr. Smith is here to see her?
"I would if she were here," the woman said, shooting him a look of pure loathing. "But she's gone." The receptionist handed him a letter. "She left this for you.
He ripped it open, and read:
I have taken my brother and left the country; please don't bother trying to find us. I have included an approximate schedule for your friend's recovery; however, I strongly recommend he see a professional physical therapist. You will, I hope, understand my reluctance to give referrals.
He stared at it for a moment, in shock. She'd left them -- she'd run out on them. Run out on him.
Feeling suddenly out-of-control, as if the earth had been jerked out from under him, he turned and walked back to where he'd left the car. When he reached it, his control broke. He sat there, shaking with fury, for a long time.
Next Chapter
Fandom: James Bond: Goldeneye
Characters/Pairing: James/Alec
Summary: James goes to London to pick up the Doc.
Warnings: none
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.
Word Count: 483
Feedback: yes, please!
X-Posted: were_lemur, forengland
Series Master List
Chapter One
Previous Chapter
Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond. I don't own Alec Trevelyan either (alas), nor any other recognizable 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!
A/N: Forgive the delay, please; I was busy NaNo-ing.
James strode impatiently down the street of the East End, toward the clinic. He shifted the bag from the bookshop in his hand -- full of paperbacks and a crossword magazine, to keep Alec entertained -- and sidestepped a pair of shoppers. They glared at him but kept moving.
Alec had turned a corner; he was more alert, but also restless and frequently bored. James had forgotten how badly he reacted to the enforced inactivity of convalescence. Last night, he'd kept James up half the night, talking about anything he could think of. Old missions, office gossip, books -- both fiction and non, football ... anything to keep from having to lie awake. Keeping Alec amused had become a full-time job, and a surprisingly exhausting one at that.
Alec hadn't been happy about him leaving, either, even for a few hours. James thought it would do him good to have time to think about what his life would be like alone. Let Alec miss him, let him be grateful when he came back.
He'd left his watch with Alec, but he had Alec's watch in his pocket. He'd tell him that the doctor had found it. She'd back him up -- what choice did she have? He'd have to keep an eye on her, though; she'd made her unhappiness more than clear two weeks ago, when he'd dragged her out in the middle of the night.
It was time, he decided, to re-establish control, both of the Doctor and, when he got back, over Alec. He could play themselves off against each other; subtly hint to the doctor that Alec was using her, and then let her do the rest when she got there. Hell hath no fury ...
By the time he reached the clinic, he was in a good mood. He walked in -- and found it unusually empty, only a few nurses and patients.
He walked up to the desk. "Can you tell the doctor that Mr. Smith is here to see her?
"I would if she were here," the woman said, shooting him a look of pure loathing. "But she's gone." The receptionist handed him a letter. "She left this for you.
He ripped it open, and read:
I have taken my brother and left the country; please don't bother trying to find us. I have included an approximate schedule for your friend's recovery; however, I strongly recommend he see a professional physical therapist. You will, I hope, understand my reluctance to give referrals.
He stared at it for a moment, in shock. She'd left them -- she'd run out on them. Run out on him.
Feeling suddenly out-of-control, as if the earth had been jerked out from under him, he turned and walked back to where he'd left the car. When he reached it, his control broke. He sat there, shaking with fury, for a long time.
Next Chapter