Chapter Text
Am I dead?
James wonders if he says it out loud, but then he dismisses the idea. Everything is dark and he feels so light, as if he is floating, gliding. He feels so warm. He wonders if he fell asleep because the next time he comes to, he hears a voice. A sweet, familiar voice, saying his name.
"James."
He doesn't want to open his eyes, feeling as if this simple task will take all his strength. But then he feels a soft, delicate hand on his shoulder and he wants to open his eyes to see for himself, see if his guess is right. Although he knows it can't be. It just can't be her.
When he does force his eyes open, his blue meets green and he feels his heart leaping in his chest. He looks from her eyes to her lips and then back again. This time he asks, "Am I dead?"
Vesper laughs, the sound between amusing and patronizing. "If someone knows how it feels to be dead, it’s you."
It is no real answer to his question, but this is Vesper and just looking at her makes him forget everything else. Well, not entirely.
"Come. Let us walk for a moment."
James doesn't realize he is lying on his back, eyes looking at a clear, blue sky the second Vesper steps aside. He gets up and looks around, not sure what to expect from his surroundings, but he isn't too surprised to find they are in Venice. A very deserted Venice. His eyes flick back to Vesper. Beautiful, breathing Vesper. Her white floaty dress clings to her body because of the soft breeze and she holds her hand out for him to take. For a moment, James hesitates, unsure what will happen the second their skin touches, but then he steps closer and their fingers entwine. He looks around as she takes the first step and walks right next to her. There is no one except the two of them and he wants to know why, but he is afraid of the answer. He isn't even sure what he wants to say or talk about, wondering if Vesper has anything to say to him. But she only smiles, hugging his arm as they walk along the canal. James sees their sailing boat waiting patiently not too far away, but Vesper steers them a different way.
"You are not angry with me," she says after a while, but James doesn't look at her. Yet he feels her eyes watching him, curious of his reaction. He doesn't even know what to say to this. Years ago he would have told her he was more than angry. He felt betrayed, disappointed, but most of all he felt left alone. It left a scar that hurt more than being shot by Moneypenny. It hurt so much, he never dared touching it again. Until Madeleine.
Madeleine.
"I'm not. I just wished you had told me. I could have helped you."
He feels her grip tighten and as he looks to her, he sees her smile. "You can't save everyone."
Vesper makes them take a turn and James sees a black, blurry spot on the other side of the canal.
"What is this?"
He feels her eyes on him and as he looks back at her, he sees she wonders if he really doesn't remember.
"This is where we parted."
"That is one way to put it."
They continue their walk and after a while James hears himself saying," I went for him. I gave up everything for her, but I went for him."
Vesper is silent and James wonders if she even knows who he is talking about, yet he doesn't even explain before he continues putting his thoughts into words.
"She reminded me of you. A wild creature no one would dare tame."
Vesper is still silent, letting him talk. He wasn't even aware how much he needs to say all of this and so he lets the words tumble from his mouth.
"She isn't you. Never will be. It was presumptuous of me to think I can fix a Vesper-shaped hole with someone else."
Vesper stops, her hand slips back into his. "Do you know the story of the perfect heart?"
James looks at her, not sure what her story has to do with him.
"It's about a young man who says that his heart is the most beautiful and perfect heart in the village. An old man speaks up and says that, no, his heart is the most beautiful. The young man is confused seeing his heart beats strong and has no scar while the old man's has holes and other spots filled with other pieces. So the old man says, 'Yours is perfect looking, but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in mine but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges.
Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away and the other person hasn't returned a piece of theirs to me. These are the empty gouges - giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too and I hope someday they may return and fill the space. So now do you see what true beauty is?'"
Vesper falls silent as she looks back up at James. Time has no meaning in this place and so James doesn't know how long the silence stretches on before he asks, "What does the young man say?"
"He says nothing. He walks up to the old man, rips a piece from his heart out and offers it to the old man, who gives him a piece of his own battered heart in return."
James thinks about it as they start walking again and he understands what she wants to tell him, but just as he wants to speak up she stops and he notices they are at the sailing boat. He looks from the boat to Vesper and he sees in her eyes this is the final goodbye.
"You won't come with me," she says, holding both of his hands in her own as she smiles up at him. "You have a beautiful heart, James. Make it more beautiful." She steps closer and kisses him.
In the past, James would have moved heaven and hell if he could have been with Vesper again. Now, though, he doesn't hold her back when she steps away. He helps her into the sailing boat and watches her walking over to the helm. The boat moves and he keeps his eyes on her for as long as possible, the silhouette of the boat starts glowing and he has to look away as it starts hurting his eyes.
James turns away and stumbles as he finds himself in Talamone. On the terrace of Villa la Torre to be precise and as he turns to the building behind him he sees Mathis sitting on a chair under a sunshade. He seems relaxed, not in the slightest bothered by James’ presence.
"Sit down. Drink." Mathis points to the bottle of wine on the table and two glasses. "I haven't tasted it yet, but it doesn't look like the cheap one I usually have."
James laughs as he steps closer and sits down opposite of his friend, the white shirt and khakis standing in stark contrast to his tanned skin.
"Ah, James. I would recommend this lifestyle to you, but I think you still have some years before you can join me here."
He doesn't question his friend’s words, although they do remind him very much of what Vesper said only moments ago.
For now, though, he doesn't say anything in return. He reaches for the wine and pours them both some of the dark red liquid before he leans back himself.
"I never thought it would end this way." James isn't even sure why he says it, but he feels as if he owes Mathis that much. Espionage comes with paranoia and every friend is an enemy. He wonders if things would have been different, if he had trusted their friendship.
Mathis moves to reach for the glass, but it nearly looks like a shrug.
"It was a risk I was willing to take. Don't think you could have changed anything." Mathis downs the wine before he holds his glass out for James to refill it, which he does gladly. Seeing Mathis at peace here in Talamone warms James’ heart, easing some of the weight he had been carrying for the past years.
"I'm still..."
"Don't say sorry. We both know you are not. Your country first, then comes the rest. This is the world we decided to live in. With all the consequences." Again Mathis lifts his glass, drinks and sighs as he puts it down on the table.
The silence between them is amicable and James lets his thoughts wander. He wants to know where he is, what this place means, but before he can ask him the same question he had asked Vesper, Mathis speaks up again.
"Thank you. For staying. You didn't have the time and yet you stayed. I appreciate it. Especially after..."
James thinks back to this moment in Bolivia, when he held Mathis in his arms. He never told anyone how he had held Vesper and how he thought of her while life was slipping out of Mathis. But Mathis knows James and he knows how much he was still hurting back then.
"But...you could have left me on the street. The dumpster? Really, James?"
James sees Mathis' lips turning into a smile and so he smiles in return, raising his full glass of red wine. "Only the best for my friends."
He raises his glass and Mathis does the same with his empty one and for a moment James forgets what Mathis told him, how this was not his place to stay. He lifts the wine to his lips and watches Mathis standing up.
"Ah, James. It was so good to see you. But you have to leave now. England will fall without their best double-oh agent."
Before James can say anything in return Mathis turns to the open patio door and light engulfs him, just like Vesper before, and he turns away so it won't hurt his eyes.
When he opens them again, he is standing in front of M's office door. Mansfield. Not Mallory. He even has the decency to knock before he enters. This time he isn't even surprised to find her sitting behind her desk, the white of her twin-set nearly the same as the white of her hair.
"Too soon," is all she says as her steel blue eyes look at him. He smiles as he steps closer.
"Always good to see you, Ma'am."
"I wish I could say the same. You look a bit worn down."
James' smile widens as he stops in front of her desk, the bloody ceramic bulldog looking at him judgingly.
"What do you want here? This place is not for you."
James looks at her and wonders if it is worry he sees on her face as she waits for his reply.
"I don't know, Ma'am. I don't even know where I am."
"Good. Just so we are clear, you still don't get a bloody apology." She leans on the table, her eyes challenging.
"Oh, I already accepted your apology the first time. It goes without saying," he says with a little tilt of his head, the smile not once leaving his face.
For a moment he thinks he sees the ghost of a smile on her lips, but then she stands up abruptly before she walks around the desk and stops in front of him. "Then it goes without saying I'm not holding you responsible for what happened at Skyfall. Some rats are just smarter than others."
"That they are. I just still wish this particular rat had found its end sooner."
M nods, lips pursed as she thinks about it for a moment.
"Death doesn't suit you and staying here won't give you the peace you so despairingly desire. An unknown author said words you should take to heart: ‘What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now.’"
James wants to argue how he didn't choose to be here, but now that he is he knows it is what he needs. He heard words he needed to hear to let go, but if the look on M's face is anything to judge, she knows it already.
"Are you ready for your new mission, double-oh seven?" she wants to know and this time he does see a smile on her face.
"Yes, Ma'am."
She nods again and he knows he is dismissed. This time he doesn't wait for the light or any sign for this to be over. This time, he turns back to the door and walks right through it, realizing too late there is just a big, black void.
His fall is short and when he hits the ground, it is without pain but a lot more uncomfortable than before. Now he feels cold and short of breath, each intake of breath accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest. The darkness around him is interrupted with sparks of light. He tries to hold onto the light and the pain and then, for the first time in the darkness, he hears another voice.
"He is back. Ready for evac."
Darkness consumes him again and this time, he doesn't feel anything.
00Q00Q00Q
James concludes the painless, floating void was more comfortable than the antiseptic scented, rustling hospital sheets he was lying on. He has been in this situation so many times before, he doesn't have to open his eyes knowing where he is. Breathing is still hard and he takes it he got shot in the lung, but he feels too tired to check where a new scar on his body is born. He hates the state he is in: too tired and exhausted to move or even open his eyes but too awake to go back to sleep. With the last ounce of strength, he forces his eyes open and stares at the white ceiling. At first it is blurry, going in and out of focus, but when his eyes adjust he notices he isn't alone. Slowly, he moves his eyes and sees a silhouette with a golden halo sitting next to his bed. He doesn't need a confirmation to know it's Madeleine.
He tries to open his mouth, but the mere thought pushes him too much towards unconsciousness so he stops and waits. His throat is dry; even if he had the strength to say anything, to show he was awake, he doesn't think his vocal chords could produce a coherent word. As it seems, though, it's not necessary. James feels more than he sees Madeleine move and then the soft touch of her hand on his cheek, the scratchy sound giving away how long he has gone without a shave. Her hand moves up to his hair and she scoots closer, her breath tickling his skin.
Again he parts his lips but she shushes him. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."
He tries to swallow but his mouth is so dry, it is nearly painful.
"I knew you wouldn't come for me."
James is surprised by her words, not sure if this is the right moment for this conversation when he is just coming back from the dead without a way to explain himself. But then again, he thinks, it makes it easier and he knows he is a bloody bastard for getting away so easily.
"I don't blame you. I knew I couldn't keep you, but the illusion was nice no matter how little time we spent together. Then again I was never sure if this version of you was the real you." Her hand brushes through his hair and he wishes he could see her properly to tell if she was as okay as she wants to appear to be, but he knew her well enough to be aware how convincible she could be. Just as he was, despite her words of doubt. Maybe, he wonders, they both had lived a lie.
She keeps fondling his hair and he drifts away slowly as she presses her lips to his cheek and gets up abruptly. Madeleine leaves without another word and all James can think about is how much he craves some water before sleep consumes him again.
He feels a little more refreshed the next time he wakes up. Strength is slowly returning to his body and he can open his eyes without too much of a struggle. Like before he knows he is not alone, but before he can even think about trying to speak, he gets interrupted.
"You have a very twisted way of declaring your love."
Somehow he manages a smile upon hearing Eve's voice.
"I don't think our dear Q processed what your appearance means."
He wants to argue, seeing he isn't even sure what it means himself, but for that he has to speak and James knows this is impossible. As it seems he doesn't have to because as Eve steps closer and looks down at him, her playful expression disappears.
"Unless your intentions were completely different. You have a lot of explaining to do once you are cleared."
James knows this just too well. The questions will include his disappearance, him not checking in with MI6 upon hearing of Q and Madeleine being held hostage, and with that risking not only his own life but the Quartermaster's as well. What worries him most is Eve's expression as she mentions his clearance.
Deep down he is glad he can't ask, but at the same time he needs answers. He needs to know what seeing Vesper and Mathis and M means. He needs to know why he chose Q. Not once on his way from the airport to the location they sent him did he not think about Q. As he left MI6, James didn't say goodbye. At least not in a way that counted.
"I also hope this means you are staying." For a moment James averts his eyes, seeing he isn't sure he wants to stay, with or without knowing what it is that took him back to Q. "Dr. Swann left some of your things for you and said we should let her now once you settled back in."
James stays silent. Wants to because he has nothing to say. With Madeleine gone he lost his chance of a normal life, but then he thought back to what Vesper told him. About not filling holes with shadows of people just because it is convenient. Was Q convenient? Was his value to MI6 the reason for Bond going on a killing spree to see him one last time? He remembers seeing this tiny scrawny thing for the first time in the foyer, those big green eyes looking at him curiously and inquiringly and Bond found himself looking back challengingly. Not that Q ever accepted the challenge. He always kept his distance, always watching but never approaching. Reliable, smart Q, who saved Bond's life so many times he had stopped counting. According to MI6 rules it goes without saying, it is Q's job. And yet Bond found himself more times than not in situations where other Quartermasters, even Boothroyd, would have left him to his fate. But not Q. Q who fought nail and teeth for every agent. Q who attended every funeral of every agent he had lost. Green-eyed, lithe Q.
He falls asleep while thinking of Q and when he wakes up, it is to the sound of Mallory talking to one of the doctors.
"Prognoses?"
"Someone his age..."
"I didn't ask for what I know. I asked for what I didn't know."
Mallory's words are followed by a deep sigh from the doctor. James keeps his eyes closed, straining to hear every word that is said in front of his room.
"He had worse injuries, but it's only natural someone his age won't be fully functional after his release. His respiratory volume has dropped from ninety-five to seventy-eight. Even with rehab the chances of those numbers increasing are slim. We could extract every bullet from his body, but some went through badly healed scar tissue which will make it harder for him to regain the same flexibility and strength he had before. There might be a limp..."
Mallory interrupts the doctor. "I think I've heard enough."
And so does James.
He has no idea how much time passed between the visits of Madeleine and Eve or Mallory. He wonders if Alec or Tanner had come to visit. And of course he thinks of Q. He inhales sharply and maybe it is the thought of the Quartermaster that makes him think he can smell Earl Grey Tea and nicotine, but when he shifts he hears rustling of clothes and as he opens his eyes he sees Q stepping away from the window and towards the bed.
James blinks. Once, twice, three times but Q is still there. Not returning his inquiring gaze, but reaching for a small cup on the side table and then he lifts a tiny spoon with crushed ice to James' lips. Nearly greedily he sucks the cool chips into his mouth. The effect is immediate and he feels the rawness in his throat slowly disappearing. Q feeds him another spoonful and then another. He does it for as long as James parts his lips and only puts it away when he shakes his head no.
No one speaks. James is so used to everyone speaking up first, he waits for Q to start. Apparently he does the same because all he does is staring down at his hands clasped in front of him, rubbing his thumb nearly frantically. James watches him for a while taking his anxious and nervous demeanour in. Just as he tries to speak, so does Q and both fall silent again.
In the end it is Q speaking up first. "To me there is no reasonable explanation for what happened. I went through every possibility and variable without coming to an explanation what in your right mind possessed you to enter this room. So before I give you a chance to explain yourself, I would like to take this moment to thank you."
It is a shame Q does everything in his power to deny James a look into his eyes, head bowed in an angle all James can see is a mop of ink black hair and the frame of his glasses. He senses more than he knows Q has more to say and so James does what he can do best. Stay silent.
"I'm not certain if what I will tell you now comes as a surprise or if it will have any effect on your opinion of me, but seeing you meant a lot to me. Although I wish you hadn't come. If, then for Dr. Swann's sake, but not mine because we both know you value Dr. Swann more than..."
James' eyes slip to his hands, the skin on his thumb seeming nearly raw from the way Q is wringing his hands. The silence and the sleep was good for James, so when he reaches up to stop Q from fidgeting he does so without straining himself too much. His hands lays on top of Q's and while he does quit his own torture, his words are still spilling out.
"But I'm certain the MI6 is very thankful for your dedication. As M so diplomatically told me, it would have been hard to replace me so he is relieved to see me in one piece."
James' grip tightened upon hearing those words and as he looks from their hands up to Q's face he finds he can finally see his green eyes; he thinks back to the first time they met after Q became Quartermaster. Never had James been this intimidated by anyone in his life. Q was so full of life, so breathtaking, so young. His mind was still clouded from Vesper and the bullet that sent him into an early retirement, but this short exchange changed his perspective. He still wondered what had happened if Q instead of Moneypenny had backed him up in Macau. The thought was only fleeting, passing his mind occasionally, but still there.
"MI6 had nothing to do with my decision." James' voice is a hoarse, mumbled, mess, but judging from the surprised expression on Q's face still coherent.
Bloody MI6, James thinks. He might be one of them, but he does what he does for his country, accepting the terms coming along with it. Yet Q should know James better. How little he cares for rules and guidelines, how many times he went his own way. And this was no different. Saving Q instead of Madeleine was in MI6's interest, but it was not the reason why James went for him.
He remembers the time after Skyfall. How he went to ground after another mission, not being able to shake the weight of failing M. off his shoulders. Some days he still felt her weight in his arms and some nights all he could do to numb this feeling was drinking himself into a stupor. It was one of those nights he found himself in front of Q's apartment complex. James wasn't sure what brought him there, why he sought out the young Quartermaster, but before he could come to the conclusion breaking into his apartment was a bad idea, he was already seated on his couch with a bottle of scotch and a cat by his side. He had expected for Q to throw him out, but instead he sat down with him and listened, not once questioning his presence. James had never felt welcome, most of the time being treated as a menace, but Q...open, vulnerable Q offered him a place for the night and did everything to settle him in for the short time James was staying. He left the next morning before Q was awake. There are times James thinks about this feeling whenever he forgets he is still, underneath it all, a human being.
The position is awkward and James feels the strain from lifting his arm up to soothe Q so he lets it slip back on the bed, but his eyes are still on Q.
"Would you..."
He doesn't need to finish the sentence before Q reaches for the cup again and feeds him some more ice and James is startled by how easy their communication is. It is one thing to be so in synch in the field. Another when it goes beyond what is strictly necessary.
For a moment, he closes his eyes.
"Should I leave?"
James shakes his head no. He was relieved when Madeleine left without too much conversation; he was exhausted from Eve's short visit; he was still trying to process what he heard while Mallory was here. But with Q it is different. Strong, reliable Q.
"I'm sure I will regret my question."
Q's voice is tense, but shaky and James opens his eyes to see his avert again. He waits for him to go on, to say what he wants to say although he is sure he doesn't have an answer just yet.
"But I have to know why."
He doesn't need to elaborate, but it doesn't bring the answer to this question any more clearly to James' mind. He exhales and while he tries to think of a satisfying answer, he hears Vesper's voice in his mind, about his beautiful heart and he is reminded of his own words of a Vesper-shaped hole and suddenly he realizes why Madeleine's piece never fitted.
"Vesper was right."
James' words made Q's eyes flick up to his in confusion. "I can't fix a hole when it is already fixed. And M was right, too. I need to move on."
"What do you mean?"
Of course it doesn't make sense to Q, of course it confuses him, but James takes the risk and tells him. "I saw them. Vesper. Mathis. M."
"James...."
Not double-oh seven. Not Bond. James.
"And I heard the doctor. About my condition. Shot to the lung?"
Q nods, still confused as he tries to make sense of James' words.
"Bloody brilliant," James says, but as hard as he tries to get angry about it, he just can't. Everyone saw it coming. Mallory gave him the option before Skyfall, back when he was not completely shattered.
"What do you mean you saw them?"
For a long moment James thinks about the question and how much he can say without getting locked up, but then he decides it doesn't matter anymore. Q has seen him at his worst and James isn't sure if it can get any worse than this. And so he tells him about Vesper and Mathis and M, about the light and how he feels as if they all forgave him. A forgiveness he wasn't even aware he needed until then.
Q is silent for a very long while before he says, "They lost you. Two times they got you back. The third time...I yelled at them they should continue trying. They didn't. And then your heart started beating again."
James thinks of the black void and he wonders if what he experienced was real or just his mind playing tricks on him. He wants to believe it was true because he needs their absolution to deserve someone like Q.
"I think I should leave."
He knows he still hasn't answered Q's question And he knows it is cowardly to stay silent, but what can he say to make Q believe what he feels is the truth and not just a desperate try to cling to the bit of life left inside of him with the help of the only person who doesn’t only see the mess that is him?
Q is already at the door as James speaks up.
"You asked why." Q stops, but doesn't turn back to face James and he knows he only has this one chance to make it right. He feels words appear on the tip of his tongue he has said before, but he knows it won't be enough for Q and it wouldn't be fair and so he sticks with what he does know. "You asked why and all I can say is that I don't know. I can't explain why my first thought went to you and why it was you I chose. If this is not enough I don't blame you. Buggering hell, I wouldn't choose me right now either." He shifts in his spot, tries to sit up and notice for the first time the oxygen tube under his nose which he brushes away and pulls himself up to lean against the pillows. His eyes focus on Q's back, silently begging for him to turn around and when he does he sees the weariness clearly written on his face. "I don't know what you saw in me. But I know what I am now although it is something I need to get used to and I'm not sure how well I will adjust to civilian life. Not after I thought I would die in the field. And I live because of you. If what is left is good enough for you..."
"Pity is definitely not a good enough explanation."
"Pity? I'm wondering who is pitying whom here. I'm damaged good, Q. Had been at the moment we met for the first time. People have respect for my reputation. For the trigger that has to be pulled. Not for the person who pulls it. Even less now that I won't be able to climb a flight of stairs without needing a respirator."
Q returns to his side and for a moment James thinks he leans down to kiss him, but instead he puts the tube back into its place underneath his nose. He blinks once, twice and a third time.
"You're talking yourself into a rage and I think some oxygen could help your brain capacity."
With a sigh, James leans back. He feels like he has lost and there is little more he can do. His attempt was pathetic and Q deserves better. He closes his eyes, trying to drift off into this blissful nothingness which had welcomed him so many times before.
"And you are not going to fall asleep on me," Q's voice interrupts him and he blinks his eyes open again. "If we are talking about what we are not, then I need to rob you of the illusion of me being some saint. Keeping you alive was for a solely selfish reason and I hated my desire to see you coming back from the field the moment you decided to leave after Spectre. With someone that was definitely not me." The confession tints Q's cheeks with a bit of pink and James isn't sure if he admires him for his backbone or is afraid of what it implies.
"But I'm back."
"That you are. And rather unexpectedly. As far as I know your apartment was..."
"Sold?" James interrupts, not believing his luck.
"Rented. It might take a while to find you something to move into. Until then..." Q falls silent and James wonders what could keep him from speaking after everything they talked about.
And then Q continues. "Until then I could offer you the guest room in my apartment. It's nothing big. The apartment, that is. And there are the aforementioned cats. They tend to sleep on people's face, but you can always lock them out. Sometimes I suffer from insomnia and work on new programs or watch a whole season of Doctor Who. I'm a night owl and not big on breakfasts; most of the time I won't start talking until I’ve had my first cup of Earl Grey..."
"Are you trying to talk me out of it?"
James watches Q lick his lips nervously and a smile flicks over his face. "No. I just want you to know what you would agree on."
"Then I have to say to me this sounds pretty much perfect."
-End-