"Do it," Silva rasped desperately, his eyes squeezed so tight bright colours oozed across the inside of eyelids. Whether it was the brush of Her hair on his temple or the faint, lingering scent of Her perfume, he could almost make himself believe they were the lights of Hong Kong at night. "Do it!" He pleaded forcefully. What was She waiting for? He was giving Her power back, if he'd ever truly had it in the first place. Surely She could see this was the way it was supposed to be. He held Her finger firmly to the trigger of his Glock and pressed the barrel harder into Her temple. Free us, his mind wept, Free us bo-
First he felt the dull thud of the hilt of the knife hit his back, then the throbbing burn began to emanate from the blade. He roared in pain-not from the knife, too many knives had been taken to his flesh for this one to truly hurt- but from their destiny being torn from them.
He turned around stiffly to stare down that treacherous usurper. Go away! his mind raged. It was meant to be this way! It has to be this way! It's always been this way, it's Hers to end! Not yours, not mine, Hers, only Hers!
But with one of his lungs filling up with blood and lymph, he could only manage a savage growl as he advanced on his supplanter. Rolling his neck and his eyes, he grunted as he shuffled jerkily forward. She's not yours, She's not yours! Who are you to come between us? She took your name too, you're just a number to Her. Who do you think you are? He collapsed to his knees in front of his literal backstabber.
"Last rat standing," Bond insufferably answered.
His vision blackened and his breath shallowed out as he fell forward, never knowing if he hit the ground.
April 13, 1968 - Gibraltar
"There was nothing we could do. Eclampsia can still sneak up on us like this. Young, first-time mothers are especially at risk," the doctor explained mechanically but not coldly to the Spanish man and older Portuguese woman.
The woman rounded on the younger man. "Bastardo!" She slapped him and continued yelling at him in Portuguese-inflected Llanito, "You did this! Your filthy hands pawing at her, seducing her! And you only married her for our money! But now she's gone! You took her from me, but you damn well won't get anything else from us!"
"Mrs. Duncan, please," the doctor spoke soothingly. "The baby lived. You have a son, Mr. Moreno," he said turning to the younger man. "Against all odds-by all rights he should have gone with her, but he clung to life, and his prognosis is excellent all things considered. He'll grow up big and strong, he's already shown such strength. You have a son to be proud of. Come and meet him, both of you."
He led them down the corridor to the NICU where the baby was being kept for observation. The little sign on his incubator introduced him to the world, the son of Olívia Madalena Rodrigues Duncan Moreno, whom she lived just long enough to name Tiago Ángel Duncan Moreno- the first of his many names.
Author's Notes: I have a process blog for this fic on Tumblr (gimmeshelterfic) to collect quotes, pics, meta, and other bits of inspiration, so if I go a while without updating the fic, you can at least verify I'm still thinking about and working on it!
Feedback most appreciated while I hammer out the details of this story as I go.