IAN FLEMMING AND EON OWN 007. STORYLINE IS MINE
AN: Someone famous once said, 'I can resist everything but temptation.' The same can be said for me and a certain blonde, blue eyed Mr Bond. This one shot and any that might follow are MY interpretations of James Bond as played by Mr Daniel Craig. The Moneypenny in this story and the history they share, are also my own creations. Thank you for taking the time to R/R, hope you can find something to enjoy.
You Know My Name was the theme to Casino Royale, written and performed by Chris Cornell.
YOU KNOW MY NAME
Desperate to try and escape the distorted and nightmarish images that had made sleep impossible for the third, or was it fourth night in a row? Bond had begun to walk.
He didn't know or care where he was going, he just wanted to inflict enough physical exertion upon his already aching muscles, that when sleep did come again, exhaustion would ensure it was dreamless. Bond knew that he could have created the same effect, by downing the rest of the bottle of Grey Goose he had in his fridge, but he had made a promise to himself early on in his career, that he would never allow himself to become reliant on booze to ease his troubled mind. And it was a promise that he had, baring those hellish months following Vesper' death and the end of the Quantum affair, kept.
The creeping glaziers splintering into barren rock on the coast of Greenland, the undulating series of verdant falls of the Iguaçu Falls on the border of Brazil and Argentina, the majesty of the Northern Lights. Bond had seen them all at one time or another. And whilst their beauty could not be denied, there was a part of him that thought the sight of the sun rising slowly over Tower Bridge, bathing the already busy water in a dusky pink and gold glow, was equally as breathtaking.
He had been away from home for too long. As despite the places he was required to travel to, sometimes for weeks or months at a time, Bond always had and always would consider England, London as his home. The place he had sworn to protect from threat. But after the Keyrani debacle, he had begun to wonder, if an oblivious Queen and judgemental and increasingly hostile Country was enough of a motivation to continue risking his life.
It wasn't as if anyone would miss him when he was gone. Double Os or 'blunt instruments' like him, as a rule, had very short life expectancies. And for the first time in Keyrani, Bond had felt that he had come perilously close to bending that rule as far as it would go. Bond was sharp, fast ruthlessly brutal when necessary, but he was tired. Emotionally and physically. The grief, the sheer pig headedness that had fuelled him after Vesper' death, after Agent Fields death, after Mathis' death...it was fading and fast.
And for the first time in a long time, as he had lain in the darkness night after night, with only his own tortured mind for company, James Bond was afraid.
He did not want to reach the end of his life without having been more, meant more than a tally of kills in a file. A memory that M would raise a glass to now and then. Bond wanted, needed someone to see, make the effort to look behind the bullshit.
It was a terrifying feeling, especially after the soul destroying pain he had gone through with Vesper, but it was one he could no longer deny.
Bond needed to let someone in. He needed someone to care for and for someone to care about him.
Before it was too late.
"I saw the light on."
She didn't speak.
Because she knew that there were no words that could even begin, to soothe the maelstrom of emotions she could see reflected in his tired blue eyes. And because she wasn't sure exactly what she would say if she did. Instead, Moneypenny simply took Bond's hand and lead him upstairs.
"You need to rest James." She said finally, as she positioned him by the side of the spare bed and began to ease his heavy woollen coat from his shoulders. Ignoring his bitter snort of humourless laughter at her words. Once the coat had been removed and carefully draped over a chair, Penny began work on his shirt.
The well defined hard planes of his chest, which were covered in a painful map of bruises and cuts plus, the almost heartbreakingly weary look in his eyes, which were following her every moment with almost laser like intensity, told Penny that the man standing before her was no longer James Bond the boy. And yet, as she looked deeper, ran her fingers lightly over the barely visible scar at the top of his left forearm, gained from falling in through a dormitory window. The twenty years that had elapsed since they had last been in a position like this one, seemed to have fallen away.
She had her James back again, if only for a moment.
He had been her first real kiss, her first lover and her first broken heart.
And for a long time afterwards, she had hated him.
Hated him for being like all the rest, for promising the world and then casting her aside, when someone prettier, thinner, more exotic and alluring had come along.
But as she had sat beside him in the public gallery of Court Number 1 at the Old Bailey, those laser like blue eyes never leaving Richard Keele, the man responsible for making and delivering the bomb that had killed not only his parents, but twelve others, she had forgiven him.
James Bond was a broken man. Had been shattered the moment that bomb had gone off. And whilst his godfather Sir Thomas Crispin paying for him to attend Clear Mount, one of the most prestigious private schools in the country and giving him a generous allowance and an account at a Saville Row Taylor had been meant to give him the 'start in life' his parents had intended. Penny had realised that James would never really start 'living' his own life, until he realised that he was his own man and stepped out of his father's shadow.
That was why she had almost cried when he had first appeared on her door step in his Naval Uniform. James liked the sea, he liked to sail, but he was not a Navy man. His father had been however. And James had been determined to make both his father and Sir Crispin proud, to repay the effort and money that had been spent on him.
Penny shuddered slightly as she remembered the last time they had seen each other. Penny had been just about to get into a cab headed for the station and her return to Oxford, when she had felt James catch her arm.
"Leave a light on for me heh Pen?" he had said with a soft smile.
James had been due to embark on his first tour of duty on a destroyer the following day, and during the long breaks between proceedings had been regaling her with naval stories and traditions. Including the one where sailor's wives or loved ones left a light burning in the window to guide them home.
"Always." She had replied, her fingers ghosting lightly over his cheek. She had always been thankful, that she had managed to hold back her tears until the cab had moved off.
Penny had known that James was working for MI6, almost the moment she had arrived, the through vetting process having discovered their past connection. And she had also quickly learnt that James' name was the byword for ruthless efficiency, rule breaking and fantasy amongst the secretariat. But after getting over the initial shock, Penny had decided to leave James and her feelings for him, firmly in the past.
She had a life and career of her own to worry about. It was true that none of her subsequent relationships had given her quite the same feelings as her relationship with James had, but she had some nice, decent men in her life. Whose only problem was, that they couldn't, despite their initial protestations cope with her career.
Whilst she may have started off in the 'typing pool' her language and creative skills had seen her move into the 'legend' department pretty quickly. Whilst certain health problems, had meant she was unfit for service in the field, Penny had always felt that as agents were carrying the passports, papers and back story's she had so meticulously put together for them. There was a part of her out there 'doing her bit for Queen and Country' as S, the retired head of section had put it.
The first time she had been required to create a legend for Bond or 007 as he was officially known, she had promptly sprayed her keyboard and computer screen with coffee.
For six years she had managed to navigate the corridors of Vauxhall Cross without seeing him. She had heard about his operations, his close calls. She had stood her heart threatening to burst from her chest, listening as Bond had called in from Montenegro saying that he had been poisoned. His heart had stopped for thirty seconds, hers had taken weeks to start beating properly again.
She had wanted to seek him out when she had heard what had happened with Vesper Lynd. Bond's resignation had barely hit M' in-box before it was it halfway round the building. They had all sniggered at the notion of James Bond in love. He enjoyed his job, his life, he enjoyed being able to take his pick from some of the most beautiful women Penny had heard the gossips insist. But she knew that there was a part of James Bond, who loved, who thrived on being loved and cared for, and having someone to do the same for.
Had she been jealous?
The weekend that followed her hearing about his resignation had past in tear soaked alcoholic oblivion. Penny hadn't been exactly sure why she was crying, for, what could have been, what she deep down had wanted, for what James had lost and how she knew it would hurt him, or the fact she could do nothing to help him.
Except give him a fighting chance of staying alive.
The Keyrani situation had been a complicated joint operation with the CIA, which had required Penny and her team to work overtime on a series of legends for the agents that had been involved. Whilst Penny had relished the challenge, she had not appreciated the interference from the CIA man, who could still not believe that someone of her age, who was also a woman, could be in charge of such a department.
Three screaming rows, two nights out drinking and four pretty decent shags later, they had come to an understanding. She had been in her office, trying to finish up some last minute details before heading to a 'brainstorming' session with Quinn the yank, when she had seen James again.
She had been stood on a stool in a cocktail dress and high heels, muttering about doing painful things to the new recruit who had placed the printer cartridges on the top shelf when her foot had slipped. However instead of ending up in a painful heap on the floor, two strong hands had appeared round her waist to steady her. Looking over her shoulder at her saviour had almost caused her to fall again.
It had had given her a small thrill to see the look of surprise and appreciation on his face as he took her in.
"Penny" he had gasped.
Over the years she had been called many things variations of her first name Jude, Judy, J, the more formal Miss Moneypenny or just Moneypenny, but the only person who had ever been allowed to call her Penny following her mother's death, without receiving a withering stare, was James.
"007"
She had not meant to respond in such a formal and clipped tone and had hated seeing the flicker of hurt that had flashed in his eyes. But Penny had known that she had had to at least try, and maintain the protective wall she had built around her heart where he was concerned, especially when they were both facing such an important and possibly deadly situation. Her resolve had been tested almost immediately, when seeing her wobble as she took his hand and attempted to climb down from the stool, he had rested his large hands securely on her waist and lifted her down, holding her still as she had gotten her bearings.
To be so close to him after so long, to feel those arms that had always made her feel so safe, to feel those blue eyes fixing her in a gaze that felt like it was melting her bones.
"What I need to know Miss Moneypenny is whether you can remain professionally detached enough to concentrate on the task at hand, now that you and Bond have renewed your acquaintance."
A less than pleased M had demanded of me a week later. Penny had found out from Mitchell, M' current private secretary, that James had been called in for a particularly vocal debrief, two days after our meeting, regarding something he had done or rather not done, on another assignment he had under-way.
"You don't need to worry about me..." Penny had assured her, earning herself an intense and rather disconcerting stare.
"Glad to hear it. I just wish I felt the same were true of Bond. Seeing you again, has unsettled him for want of a better word. And I need him focused on this damn Keyrani affair, especially with the American's peering so closely over our shoulder. I do not need a jealous and frankly little unstable Bond threatening to turn the CIA' Mr Quinn into a jigsaw puzzle."
Bond knew there was nothing sexual in Penny's touches, but he couldn't contain the soft sighs that escaped him as her hands, brushed over his chilled skin. It was as if he could feel not only the heat of her small soft hands, but also the genuine concern and compassion in each touch, deep in his core.
"Sit." She commanded and he obeyed, like the confused and exhausted little boy he felt himself to be at that moment. He watched as Penny dropped to her knees in front of him and began removing his shoes and socks.
Why had it taken him so long to see what a beautiful woman she really was? Physically, she may not have been as obviously attractive as the women that usually caught his eye, although he had to admit, she had truly blossomed from the awkward and slightly plump teenager he had known all those years ago. Her almost razor sharp cheek bones and large expressive green eyes, made her face striking to look at and her body had become sensuously curvaceous. But what had caught his eye most and caused his lips to twitch into the almost alien feeling sensation of a smile, was the tumbling mass of curls. Reaching out a hand, he found them to still be damp.
"Was about to start straightening them when you knocked." Penny said as she finished what she was doing and sat back on her heels to better observe him. Bond found himself frowning as he remembered how she had been teased about her unruly curls and puppy fat by the other boys at Clear Mount. He included at one stage Bond thought ruefully.
But then, he had seen the real Jude Moneypenny. Not the Headmaster's daughter who had to be polite to the hundreds of boys that passed through the school year after year. The Jude who had had to keep her head up, mouth shut and tears in check, as she had run the gauntlet of cat calls, jeers and clumsy physical passes that filled her time back at the school.
He had seen the Jude who had cleaned his cuts and gone to bat for him with her formidable father when he had been caught fighting with boys who enjoyed tormenting him over his orphaned, 'charity case' status. He had seen the Jude who had coached him through the seemingly impossible to grasp Shakespeare and Latin. Who had sometimes physically, dragged him out of his dormitory during those seemingly endless holidays, when everyone else had gone home.
He had ended up being a complete bastard to her. His head being turned by the power his Naval Cadet and then officer uniform had given him with women, both those of his own age and older. And yet, she had turned up the court to offer him support as he had seen the man responsible for his parents death sentenced to life. Bond knew that her friends, her family, had accused her of being weak for doing that, he had thought the same if he was honest, mistaken her kindness for weakness. But time and experience had taught him, that her ability to withstand some truly awful events in her life, he had needed to walk away and pound out his frustrations on a punch bag after reading her file, whilst still having the courage to open up her heart and trust, to give, was her incredible strength.
Others however, like Nick Quinn, did not know these things. He was looking for a pleasurable distraction for a few weeks, before he returned home to his wife and three children. Bond knew that what he had said and almost done to Quinn was the very definition of hypocrisy, but he had been unable to stop himself. Unable to silence that voice of so long ago, that had defended Penny's virtues to his sneering so called friends. And of course, it had caused her to literally storm back into his life, cornering him the underground parking structure, she had stood in front of his car, grim faced, hands on hips until he had apologised.
"I am a grown woman now James, not some shy little teenager that needs defending from brain dead morons. I am believe it or not, capable of fighting my own battles and deciding who I will and won't fuck..."
The last word had been deliberate and had the desired effect of driving him crazy. The word coming from her mouth, the images it created in his mind, the guilt had all felt so wrong. She had been right he had no right, to have behaved the way he had. But seeing her again after so long, remembering what they had had despite their young ages, the happiness, and the peace she had given him. Seeing her strength now, what she had become. Seeing someone who even knowing everything he was, everything he had become, still cared. It had been the look in her eyes, the genuine concern and warmth he had seen when he had asked her again to keep a light on for him and her reply of always, that had gotten him through more than one interminable night in Keyrani.
It was that look, that strength, her light that he had without even really realising it followed as he tried to fight his way out of the darkness that was threatening to engulf him. He had been scared, truly scared that she would shut the door in his face, consign him, what they had to history. And he knew that she still could, that her concern may only be one of a friend, who was worried by his deathly pale haggard face and shaking hands.
"I'll leave you to do the rest...bathroom is through there..." Penny said quietly, snapping him out of his reverie.
"Stay...please" he said shooting out a hand to catch hers. Bond hated hearing himself sound so pathetically weak, but he was just so damn tired, so scared of facing the darkness and the horrors within it again, facing them alone.
When she paused, Bond took his chance to pull her a little closer until finally, she was standing between his legs running her hands gently through his hair as he gazed up at her.
"Oh James, what have they done to you?" she sighed softly.
"Say it again..." Bond pleaded as he slipped his arms around her waist.
"What?" she asked in confusion
"My name...not Bond, not Commander, not 007, but my name" he asked, spitting out his various titles as if they tasted too disgusting to even speak.
"Your name is Bond...James Bond. And that is nothing to be ashamed of, because James Bond, the James Bond that I knew...he is a good man. And although he has done, seen some horrible things, I know the good man is still in there. I know that my James is still in there..." Penny said laying a soft kiss to his forehead.
What was she doing?
Losing him again was going to hurt so much more this time. They hardly knew each other as fully formed adults and they had been through so much, since they had last seen each other. But she as she had told him, she just knew that his good heart was still in there. She knew that her James was still in there.
"Sleep now." She said quietly as she lay down on her side beside him and began to gently stroke his face. He had reached a level of exhaustion that would have caused most men to collapse long ago, but she could see in his eyes, that he was still fighting against his body and its need for rest.
"You are safe here James..."
The look on his face had been so heartbreaking, she had found herself moving closer to him without even realising it, opening her arms and pulling his head down to rest in the crook of her neck, where she felt, rather than heard, the soft whimper and gentle sobs that shook his frame and finally carried him off to sleep.
A quick glance at the clock told Penny that they had both been asleep for just over two hours, before James had begun to cry out and try to defend himself against a foe only he could see.
Penny had high enough security clearance, to have learnt that the Keyrani operation had been a brutal and bloody fuck up from start to finish, that had cost 6 three good agents and the CIA five. James had been in hospital for over a week when he had returned, recovering from both internal and external injuries. And whilst his body was apart from a few of the more jagged scars, almost healed, his mind was not.
What the fuck had that bastard General Quasi done to him? Penny raged silently to herself as she tried to wake James and avoid blows from flailinglimbs. Finally, unable to bear the sightof him thrashing and crying in agony any longer, Penny had taken a risk. Moving herself, she had positioned herself astride him and used all of her weight positioned in key areas to pin his arms by his side. She knew she would not be able to hold him for long, especially as his body was slicked with cold sweat, but she hoped she could manage to wake him.
"James...JAMES WAKE UP...JAMES YOU ARE DREAMING...YOU'RE SAFE JAMES. YOU ARE SAFE HERE...I'M HERE...PENNY...YOUR PENNY." She had said loudly and firmly. It took a moment, but finally he began to calm, began to stop fighting against her.
"Penny...Penny left a light on for me... to guide me home." he mumbled as his eyes began to open more fully and focus.
"Always my darling... always..." Penny whispered roughly.
Of all the things that had gone wrong on the Keyrani operation, of all the horrors he had seen, James' nightmares always returned to those seemingly endless moments before Felix had arrived. The moments when General Quasi' psychotic son had strapped Bond's battered bruised and bleeding body to a table in the small, fetid room and began to administer his own versionof death by a thousand cuts. Even now, months later, Bond could still feel the searing pain of the salt being thoroughly rubbed into every wound. He could still see Karim' flaccid face twisted in grimace of almost sexual pleasure as he loomed over him, informing him in graphic medical detail, exactly where he was going to cut next and how much it was going to hurt.
Bond had tried to tune him out, tried to focus, but the burning, mind numbing pain, the gut churning stench of his breath, the feel of spittle landing on his face had kept pulling him back to reality. That was till tonight. Tonight, all Bond could hear when the distorted face had opened his mouth was;
"You're safe James. You're safe here; I'm here...Penny...Your Penny..."
The hands that were touching him, were not trying to harm, to hurt, they were trying to comfort, to protect him. The cold, dead, black eyes were replaced by dazzlingly bright green ones that were full of hope, safety and the peace he craved.
"Penny...Penny left a light on for me... to guide me home."
"Always my darling...always..."
And when Bond had finally managed to open his eyes, to focus, there she was using everything she had in her slight frame to try and comfort him, protect him. And as the early morning sunlight streaming in through a chink in the curtains caught her hair, he had never seen anything more beautiful or so fragile. And yet he had never felt so safe.
Reaching up, Bond let his fingers gently ghost along her cheek and twist in her hair.
"I'm sorry. I...I should go"
Yes you should.
This is crazy.
What the hell am I doing? Penny raged silently to herself whilst reaching up to cover his hand, which was now cupping her cheek, with her own. Penny's sigh became almost a whimper as she saw all her own confusion reflected in his eyes.
"But for you to leave...that would require me moving. And, to be honest James...I really don't think I can..." Penny chuckled softly, desperate to lighten the mood if only for a minute, desperate to hold onto the feel of his touch just for a minute longer.
James looked confused for a moment, before he saw how her thighs which were either side of his stomach were shaking with the effort of keeping him pinned.
"I can imagine a grip like the one you have on me at the moment, takes some muscle control." He teased but he was genuinely impressed by her strength.
"My personal instructor at the gym was Brazilian, used to roll cigars on her thighs...taught me a few things."
"Is that so? Now that..." James began to say, before using his own considerable strength to sit up, wrap his arms protectively around Penny's back and roll them so that she was lying flat on the mattress, allowing him, to loom over her. "Is something, I would very much, like to see..." he breathed.
God she was beautiful.
"Well, she only lives down the..." the rest of her sentence was cut off by Bond as he claimed her mouth, a little roughly, with his own. She whimpered softly in surprise against his lips, but did not push him away, preferring instead to snake her arms around his neck as she allowed him to deepen the kiss.
Bond found that it was his turn to moan, when Penny began with surprising skill, to respond, to engage his probing tongue in a battle for dominance of the kiss, whilst allowing the fingers of one hand to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck and the other to begin moving down his back.
Bond had forgotten, just how much of a turn on, kissing could be. But his body he found, despite its exhausted state, had not. He began to let a little of the weight he had been supporting on the arm beside her head, fall upon her as he pillowed his body against her own, closing the already small space between them.
Penny's whimper became a moan when she finally, reluctantly, pulled away in need of air, and felt James' need for her pressing against her thigh.
Oh God.
The pride and pleasure she felt at having caused this reaction in him after all this time, her body's almost painful need to continue touching him, for him to continue his almost torturous exploration of her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts.
Ok, how the hell had he gotten her nightshirt open, with one hand?
With that dangerous mouth and tongue of his, was dampened when her fingers found one of the many wounds that mapped his back, causing him to hiss in pain
"This...we shouldn't be doing this. You...you need to rest...I'm meant to be looking after you..." Penny sighed as her body arched up towards his still moving hands of its own accord.
"You are Pen...you are...you, you're light, your touch...it's the only thing stopping me from going under... I need you." James rasped as he positioned himself directly above her, his hands either side of her head. The room was now bathed in bright sunshine, but the light in James' eyes, that gave them an almost frightening intensity, seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him, from that place where we hid all our truths, all our greatest fears.
Oh James
My poor broken man, what the hell have they, this oblivious and ungrateful fucking government and all of its double dealing and deceit done to you? Penny raged silently to herself as she wrapped her limbs almost protectively around him, letting him guide them both, to the edge and much needed oblivion
There were no more words after that, just deep sighs and moans of need, of want, whimpers of the intense relief they both felt as they found the reconnection and peace in each other they both so desperately needed.
It had been years, another life time, but their bodies seemed to have perfect recall of the moves they had learnt so many years ago, to this most tender and intimate of dances. And although Penny knew she could, probably was placing herself in the path of pain and suffering when James had found the strength to replace the armour he hid behind, it was a risk she was willing to take.
Not for Queen or Country.
But for the spy she would always love.