I.
He is a normal man, he has a normal job. He went to a public school, followed it by graduating with a double first from Cambridge in maths and economics. He is rather handsome, blonde hair and blue eyes with a rather muscular physique for someone who sits behind a desk for a living. He gives off a mysterious aura because although he is friendly, he doesn't socialising or discussing a lot about himself. He goes through women about as much as others go through underwear, and he is okay with that. He likes women, he likes drink and he likes cars.
No government agencies tap him on the shoulder, he isn't a double-oh. He works for Her Majesty's treasury. He is just another soulless workaholic who lives in one of the modern flats of Chelsea. It's empty, he brings a woman home and she knows only as much as he has told her. He makes a large sum of money, enough that he could retire early even.
They meet through work, sparks fly instantly. She gives him a verbal whipping despite her position being beneath him. She can't lose her Treasury reputation as office bitch now, can she? He is attracted immediately. He wants to be put in his place by only her and her quick tongue. He invites her to dinner. She refuses.
After 3 months, 10 invitations, she caves. There's only so much time a woman can spend refusing James Bond. Surprising everyone they get married two years after. They honeymoon in Venice. In a city that ended them in another life.
II.
He is in a hotel bar waiting for the final say that he can return to London, waiting for the all clear that his mission is over. She walks in wrapped in a silk black number, similar to one she wears in another life to a casino. She has elegant curls pinned over one shoulder as she walks up to the bar to order her drink.
"And a drink for the lady." He tells the barman, indicating that he adds it to his ever growing tab. He knows it will take more than a wink and a few compliments for her. He isn't one to back down from a challenge though, if he was then he wouldn't be an agent.
"No thank you." She purrs, glancing at him before flicking her eyes back to her drink.
"I insist." He replied, giving her his most charming smile.
"I suppose you think this whole charming persona will have every woman on her knees." She replies with a smirk as he calculating eyes assess him.
"It's not a persona, I am charming." He laughs with a smile.
"I have a boyfriend." She states abruptly, her hand almost flinging to stroke the necklace at her throat. She accepts the drink anyway, after all it is only a drink and he should back off now. Even if it is her inability to let go of Yusuf that is preventing her from engaging with this man.
"Well, if you ever break up with him then here is my number." He smirks, downing the last of his nameless martini to buy him a little time. Deciding to give her his personal mobile number may end up being a mistake, but he likes to live dangerously. Scrawling it on the back of a business card he has withdrawn from a silver case which he keeps on his person for appearances sake; he hands it to her. Surprisingly she takes it.
"Universal exports, Mr Bond." She smirks, pocketing the sleek white card in her clutch bag. "Sounds terribly mysterious, maybe I'll call you about it sometime." She teases, leaving the bait in the air that there is a chance he could have her.
"Well, I think that will have to wait for another time." He hums as his phone rings. "The boss is calling but I hope that next time this rings it's you on the other end." He replies cockily, walking out of the bar as he knows it's M saying he can return to London.
The next call isn't her, but a few weeks later it is. She traces the logo with her nail as she awaits his answer. It's time to forget the past. "James, I would like to know more about this mysterious job of yours. How about you tell me over dinner." She challenges, knowing he is not the sort to leave a prize when he wins a game.
III.
Once upon a time there was a train to Montenegro. On that train was one of the finest agents in Mi6, he was a bit of a maverick but he got the jobs done.
On that train the agent meets an accountant, a woman who should be dull but captivates him. She challenges him with verbal spars, she reads people almost as well as he does. She is everything he has wanted despite never wishing to fall for a woman.
They talk, amuse themselves with mind games. She is the money. He is the agent, they shouldn't work well beyond business yet they do.
All he should remember from this journey is how his lamb was skewered. A perfectly fine meal, ruined. Instead, he recalls everything about her. They shouldn't fall in love but they do, he is enamoured by the many facets that makeup Vesper Lynd. She is fire to his ice; she is the warmth that runs through his veins.
After all, without Vesper he is a cold hearted bastard.
IV.
They meet through university; yes she is two years his junior but they still manage to meet. The ice queen and the womanizer. Normally he doesn't pay attention to the waitresses at the small cafes around Cambridge, but she stands out. Her cool blue eyes assess him as he orders; she knows who he is despite being a freshman.
"Mr Bond." She states blandly before he can get a word out. "I am working, I do not wish to respond to your advances. My eyes are going stay on the orders or on my textbook in my breaks; no matter how hard you try they are never going to wander to your perfectly formed arse." She smirks playfully, despite how she knows this will just create a spar with him.
"So you noticed." He grinned, moving over to the counter where she was working. "Since you know, you must have spent some time admiring it to draw that conclusion."
"This is my job." She deadpans, facing him from across the counter where he has sat ordering coffee for the past 2 hours. "You may be some Eton boy who is paying your way through this university by barely dipping into the top of your trust fund but that's not what I have to do. I do not think this university is a joke like you do, but you would coming from money even though there obviously isn't a constant supply if the chip on your shoulder indicates anything." She deduced with a cool glare.
"Your beauty is a problem, you feel the lecturers and your peers won't take you seriously because of it so you make up for it with the masculine way you dress." He replied, backhanding her comment. "You act cold as you feel it is the only way people will give you the merit you deserve, when actually all it does is give you an air of arrogance. The title of ice queen." He continued, playing her at her own game.
"I will not become another one of your disposable pleasures Mr Bond." She bit back with disdain, her abhor for him dripping from her words.
"I know." He stated, placing a large tip for her on the counter. "I don't intend you to be." He gave her a nod of acknowledgement before leaving. A few trips to the cafe later and it's still the same, she doesn't hate him but she doesn't like him.
It's only when he saves her after a situation at a party where Yusuf's friends think it is amusing to drug her drink that she realises he is a good guy. Yes, he beats them up. But that doesn't mean he is a bad guy, they deserved it.
V.
She is the only female double-oh, her work is neat and clean. She is the black widow of mi6, a silent killer amongst a legion of foot soldiers. He is intrigued by how a woman has risen so quickly and has a shot just as accurate as his.
Vesper Lynd spits fire at any man who crosses her path and judgement; she is how M would have been at that age if her shot was better. They spar from time to time, verbally and physically. How he loves to be between her thighs despite the threat they hold to break his neck. Silky smooth, white as milk. God, he'd love to have her in his bed. Their spars are passionate enough so why not spar naked?
She hates him in some ways; that he represents a class of boys who do not have to work for this job, who stayed in public school despite their dalliances with the staff of the boarding house. She has to prove herself everyday just because she is a woman.
"Bond, I am here for the mission and not your perfectly formed arse." She states coolly, sitting on the bed in the hotel room they had booked for this job. "I may be posing as your wife but that doesn't mean I will be tangled between your sheets."
Oh, how wrong she is. Not even 48 hours later, she is dressed in this sheet. They can blame it on adrenaline. On nearly dying for what must be the 100th time at least now. They know that would be a lie though, it is the result of months of pent up sexual tension.
She regrets it weeks later though; sat on the counter in her bathroom she wonders how to tell him, hell how to do her job even. Agents can't be pregnant, but here she is. Oh, what a mess the perfectly organised Miss Lynd has made now.
VI:
People say miracles can't happen, that in a world as real as this no one can rise from the dead.
Those people are wrong.
It is by chance that he finds out she is alive, amusing as it is that they met because of a game of chance and that is how they meet again. Dr Jones is on leave so all Dr Jones' patients are handed to a Dr Madeleine Swann, a Miss Vesper Lynd or rather Miss Rebecca James is one of her new patients.
She fits her in on a Friday afternoon, a dreary London afternoon when nothing of significance is supposed to happen.
"Mister, you can't go in there." A voice calls from the waiting area as James heads towards Madeleine's office to surprise her. "She's with my Mum, and it's secret stuff that they're talking about." He states seriously, looking up from his book on aeroplanes with piercing blue eyes.
"Firstly my name is Bond, James Bond. And secondly, I was going to surprise the nice lady with your mum." James is never compelled to talk to children, but he is drawn to the boy. He carries an air of familiarity about him, a familiarity that is reminiscent of a woman from his past.
"Well my name is Charlie James, but Mummy said not to give my surname to people I don't know cos they might be dangerous." He told him simply, turning back to his book. "And maybe next time you should check to see if your friend is busy before trying to barge in when my mum is telling her secrets." He glared, wanting to protect his mum from this rude man.
"Charles James Lynd, you apologise to that man for being rude now. I did not raise you to talk to people like that even if you are trying to protect me." Vesper called, telling him off as the man sat dumbfounded by her voice. "I am so sorry-" She trailed off, eyes wide as she took her son's hand to leave. She needed to get away now, he wasn't supposed to know.
"James." She whispered, feeling almost breathless at the sight of him. He had aged in the nine years since she had last seen him; the stubble gave away an air of inactivity. Had he decided to retire from the service? It was a different James Bond that stood in front of her than the one she knew all those years ago, he was weathered; the years had beaten him down.
"Mum?" Her son asked from next to her, making James' eyes snap down as he realised why the child seemed so familiar. This was his son. Her son.
"James?" Madeleine asked, leaving her office at the sounds of voices outside. Once again, another person captured his attention. "If you want to go to dinner I'll grab my coat." She smiled. He nodded, yes that was why he was here. Not for Vesper or their son.
She was alive though. He wanted to know how. Why. Their son, he wanted to know him too.
"Here is my business card, I have written our address on there. I am guessing you have questions." Vesper spoke quietly, leaving a trail of water in her wake as she left.