Ressurection – Prologue
A/N: This is the start of something. Enjoy.
He thinks he recognises the woman four rows in front. He recognises the shape of her shoulders, the elegant curve of her neck, the sights and the smells. He remembers meeting her on that train to the casino.
"I'm the money," she said.
"Every penny of it," he had remarked in return.
He also remembers comforting her in a shower in Montenegro, eating breakfast with her on the banks of Lake Como and then watching her drown herself in a lift in the basement of a collapsed Venetian mansion some 5 years previously. He remembers pulling her lifeless body from the water then his vain attempts to give CPR. He remembers the officials who came to take the body away and then M's phone call.
"..I'm sure hoped they'd let her live. But she must have known she was going to her death."
Followed by him saying; "…the bitch is dead."
He hears some anonymous official doing a reading. Quoting Tennyson; "We are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are — one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will, to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
He smiles slightly at the irony within the poem. At least this isn't his funeral. It's his old boss' – M – Olivia Mansfield. M was stabbed by a rogue agent. Mallory is in charge now. He is 'M' and they've nearly finished the repairs at Vauxhall Cross.
He didn't go to her funeral, he didn't even know whether she had a funeral. He didn't know where the body was buried. Maybe it was dumped? Eaten by the fish at the bottom of a Venetian canal, adding to the aquatic food chain.
He remembers catching up with Yusef – her ex-boyfriend. Yusef had already moved onto new conquests – a pretty young thing from Canadian intelligence but he doesn't remember her name. He held his nerve and he didn't shoot him, much to everyone's surprise, including his own. Yusef is now serving life behind bars, he'll never know freedom again. She didn't know freedom from the day she met the bastard.
The fact of her treachery is painful. All the time forced to work for the other side. She had summed it up over that first dinner in the dining car on the way to Montenegro – "…if you lose, our government will have directly financed terrorism."He hadn't lost, but she had stolen the victory from him. To the extent where he was asking; what's the point? She was an unwilling pawn in a covert game of chess.
She must have come to pay her respects to the late M. But it's impossible. She's dead. He watched her die. He watched her push him away as he tried to save her. He watched her drown that day in Venice. But he thinks he sees her four rows in front, clad in black. Looking as elegant as the day they met on the train to Montenegro.
He loses sight of her at the end of the service. Vesper Lynd simply vanishes from the London church yard. Vanishes into the summer sun. It was definitely her, but Bond doesn't believe it. She is dead. Dead. But then maybe he isn't the only one with a hobby.
He knows his: resurrection.
A/N: My first Bond fanfic. Please review. More to come shortly.