lastrat | ♠ | 002

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♠ | 002 | Video

[Much different from the man who posed skepticism and disbelief a few days ago, Bond is now smiling. He looks at ease, and for once like he isn't constantly on guard. It erases some lines from his face, makes him look a little younger, a little lighter.]

I never was much for Christmas, you know. Can't understand why now. It's nice, isn't it? The coming together, the gaiety of it all. I think I've been rather rude since I got here, and I'd like to apologize to you all. I'm sure you've only been trying to help, and I ought to have been more receiving. That's what this season's all about, isn't it? Setting aside your disbelief and believing in miracles.

[Another warm smile, and he nods.] I think I like that.

[Private to the Admiral]

[This list will be angrily replaced later, but for now, happiness and good will towards man and all that.]

Haven't written one of these since I was a boy, but if you insist:

For Ivy, a beautiful dress. Green, naturally. With a leaf motif, since she seems so fond. For Castiel - I think he could use a halo, don't you? For Lark - Mm. I'm not very good at this. Aftershave, or cologne, something expensive that he'll enjoy.

And for Vesper-- [He trails off, thinking hard.] A necklace, I think. With a key on it. [A pause, then a smile. Yes, that'll do nicely.]

[Spam for Vesper]

[When he ended the post, he realized he was just sitting here alone, with Vesper only next door. Why shouldn't he believe miracles? She was dead, and now she was alive. And he'd attacked her. James hung his head for a moment, and reached into his jacket pocket, where he could turn her Algerian love knot over in his hand. This was stupid; he ought to apologize. He ought to go and enjoy her company. He ought to let her soothe the ache in his chest. Why shouldn't he?

So a moment later, he was at her door, knuckles tapping against the wood quickly.]

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[If he was himself, he might point out what a hypocritical bitch she was. But he isn't quite himself, so he just shakes his head at that, and pulls her closer, so he can wrap an arm around her waist.]

I'm not dead. And more importantly, neither are you.

[Alright, she can't help herself. She leaned into him and put her arms around his waist, putting her head on his shoulder. There might be something off about him, but for the moment, she's not that interested in pushing him away or finding out what it was.

Because she was dead. She'd drowned, and her options were stay here and work, or go on to whatever was after that. That was the end of it.]

I'm so sorry.

[He wraps his other arm around her shoulders, holding her close and kissing her head.]

Don't be. [He just wanted to stand her and hold her, to know that she was alive, and so was he, and that yes, maybe sometimes miracles do happen. He wondered, idly, if this meant he should go to Mass - but it was fleeting, because he was more interested in relearning the feel of how she fit in his arms, of how she smelled, of how she felt.]

I've missed you.

[She really didn't want to cry again, but it's hard not to give in to the choking swell of emotion, because God, she'd never meant to hurt him, she hadn't wanted to, and she had anyway.

She wanted to explain, but she didn't really know where to start or if he'd even want to hear it, if he'd believe her or not, and right now, standing like this and holding onto him was enough. Maybe she'd have time to talk to him about it now and he'd listen, even though she still didn't know why. Was this like one of the floods people had warned her about? And if it was, what was that going to mean for them when it was over?]

I've missed you, too.

[He smiled against her head, and let out a pleased sound with his exhale.]

I was hoping you'd say that.

[And a moment later - though a long moment, because he's reluctant to let her go for any length of time - he lets her go just long enough to pick her up, cradling her against his chest. Because why not? Why not?]

I hope you weren't planning on kicking me out soon.

[She was surprised, but didn't protest at all as he picked up up, and it really just sort of startled some of the emotion out of her, for the time behind as she put her arms around his neck and held on.]

Of course not. [She wasn't, even if he'd come in here angry and upset, she probably would have let him stay and tried to explain what had happened and how sorry she was instead of telling him to leave immediately.

She was still studying him, though, and gently cupped his cheek with her hand, gently running her thumb along his cheekbone.]

Are you sure you're feeling alright?

[She smiled, and turned to lay a kiss against her palm.] I'm wonderful, [He said easily, and turned to carry her to the couch, sitting down with her in his lap so he could wrap both arms around her. though a moment later, he reached up to cup the side of her neck, thumb running across her throat. The smile fades, and concern slips into his expression.]

Did I hurt you?

[She didn't believe him, but she didn't try to argue, either, letting him position them on the couch without protest. She did flinch slightly when he touched her neck, but she still didn't move away, and tried to smile reassuringly.]

No. I'm alright. [She'd been scared and upset when it happened, and there was a part of her still that was worried and scared about how much of that had been directed at her, the real her, and not whatever Bond had thought this place was when he first got here, but she was fine. More or less.]

[She flinched, and something incredibly, painfully sad crossed his face for a moment. Pulling his hand back, James hesitated for a long moment before he leaned in and kissed her collarbone, gently, apologetically.]

I'm sorry. Vesper-- [But instead of saying more, he shifts up to kiss her neck, then just resting there on her shoulder. She smells just the same as he remembers.]

[She took a deep breath and tried to relax, tried not to think about the inevitable fallout when things went back to normal, closing her eyes and bringing one hand up to run her fingers through his hair.] I'm the one who should be sorry. I am still sorry. [Even if he'd told her not to be, because she doesn't think she can ever stop.]

[He ran his hand down her spine and then up again, exhaling quietly against her skin. He never wanted to let her go again, and maybe he wouldn't, if she'd let him.]

I would have gotten you out, [he whispered against her neck. He would have given her his last breath to get her to the top.]

[She held on to him tightly, trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest and the still present threat of tears.]

I didn't want you to. [And it hurt to admit, it hurt to think about, but she couldn't stop. She'd thrown the dress she'd worn in the bottom of her closet where she wouldn't have to see it again.] I knew- [And her voice cracked, so she swallowed before continuing, trying to talk through it.

Maybe it wasn't fair, to say this now, but she wanted to explain, to tell him why she'd done it.] I knew you'd hate me for what I did. I couldn't live with that.

[His chest felt tight to hear her say it, and he closed his eyes for a long moment before reaching up to cup the back of her head, stroking her hair quietly. When he caught her gaze, he didn't let it go, and pressed both hands against the sides of her face.]

I can't hate you. It would be so much easier if I could-- [He runs his fingers through her hair, shaking his head.] Part of my drowned with you.

[She almost wanted to look away when he said it, not sure if this was just the flood or something he just wouldn't admit to without its influence, but the second part, well. Even if he hated her, that wasn't hard to see as the truth.

Her vision blurred and she blinked, taking a shaky breath.]

I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but that's the truth.

[He could see the tears in her eyes, and it physically hurt to look at. Cupping her face again, he breathed out slowly.]

I want to trust you. [But she'd lied, worse, she'd fooled him, and that was alarming. Still, tis the season, isn't it? Now is the time to forgive, forget, move on. So he leaned up and kissed her, one hand running the length of her spine.]

[She half sobbed into the kiss before returning it. It was brief, because she still felt guilty, for so many reasons, but especially because she felt like she was taking advantage of whatever this was if she let it go any further, and she didn't want that.

So she pulled back after a moment, but rested her forehead against his, a hand gently cupping the back of his neck.]

Did you- [She had to swallow, trying to force her throat to loosen up.] Do you know why? [She'd been working for Quantum, she'd betrayed him, she couldn't force herself to say it.]

[Christ, she was crying. He ran his hand over her hair again when she pulled back, concern creeping into his face. The question came, and he looked away, eventually pulled back to rest his head against the back of the couch, so he could watch her face from a decent distance.]

Your boyfriend, Yusef. They grabbed him. [He ran the back of his hand over her shoulder, not sure how to comfort her with this.] Best way to blackmail someone is to use their loved ones.

[He did know. She wasn't sure if that was a relief or not, because he'd still be furious, but maybe, maybe things would be a little easier. Maybe. Not that she really had any expectations or hope for their relationship's future. She was dead.]

Yeah. [She was crying, just a little, but manages a sad smile anyway, and she she couldn't hide the affection in her expression as she looked at him.] I suppose I've proved that a few times, haven't I?

[It's self depreciating humor, because she'd done it again, with Bond. She'd turned into some awful cliche without even realizing it.]

I would have. [He says it quietly, like he isn't sure he wants to admit that - to her, to anyone. He looks away for a long moment, breathing out slowly. White knew he would have, too; that makes it worse.]

I know. [It had been one of the reasons she'd locked the door, why she'd effectively told him it was alright, it wasn't his fault, not to save her.

She reaches out to stroke his hair gently, expression fond and at the same time desperately sad.]

I do love you, you know. [She hadn't let herself say it before, when she'd known it couldn't last, when all it would do was make the damage worse. But, well. She meant it. More than anything.]

[He smiled lightly as her hand brushed through his hair, but when she spoke, he reached up and caught her hand, pulling it down from his head slowly until he could kiss her palm.]

I do believe that's the first time you've said so.

[He'd known - he'd thought he'd known. Then he'd convinced himself she hadn't. It was easier that way.]

[Her smile was a little wobbly, but it was still there, even though her eyes were still wet, because you couldn't say things like this without getting emotional.]

I know. But I have for quite a while, by now. [Before she'd even consciously realized it, even. He was sweet and charming and a complete asshole, and she apparently couldn't help it.]

[Don't forget undeniably good looking. Holding her hand in his, he let out a breath and pulled her toward him again, arms wrapping around her waist.]

When did it start being about me? [Or when had he deal stopped being for Yusef's life. M had already given her supposition, but he needed to hear it from her.]

[She settled against him comfortably, reassured and comforted by his solid, familiar presence. It made it easier to talk about.]

When Le Chiffre took us, and Quantum arrived to take care of him, I promised them the money if they'd let you live. [It had been immediate. She hadn't hesitated before begging them to let him live, to take him to a hospital instead of shooting him in the head, even though she'd known what it would mean for Yusef.

She snuggled closer, and her voice was thick with emotion again.]

I knew what that would mean, but I couldn't even think about Yusef, I just didn't want you to be hurt anymore and I couldn't let them kill you.

[He could hear it when she spoke, and stroked her back slowly, letting her take her time, giving her something solid to lean on. He didn't shudder to remember that particular questioning. His mouth went tight around the corners, that was all, but it was an unpleasant memory, all of it, from what Le Chiffre had done to him to hearing her cry out in the next room.

He decided to die, to let her die, rather than give up the password. She'd done the exact opposite, and he could feel some quiet guilt squirming in his stomach as he decided not to bring it up.]

I never thanked you. [He kissed her shoulder lightly, and there was a silent apology there, too, for what he couldn't tell her.]

♠ | 002 | Video

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