A/N: First foray into The Hour fandom after adoring the programme since it was first on. Tried to resist the impulse to write fic for so long but that Casino Royale dialogue in 2x03 was too much to resist. I'm not sure what the context for this conversation is - you can make one up - but I imagine they're not at their usual studio because they're by the river. To be honest, the setting was inspired by all the bench-by-the-Thames conversations that Harry and Ruth (another doomed OTP) had in Spooks and somehow it seemed fitting. Hope you enjoy!
They had sat in silence for a long time watching their breaths form clouds in the cold air before Bel spoke.
"She hates Casino Royale. Freddie, how could you?"
"Lots of people hate Casino Royale. It's hardly a crime." He flicked the ash from his cigarette over the side of the bench.
"No, but you don't have to go and marry them, do you?" she retorted.
Freddie didn't reply. He just observed her, her arms wrapped round her to keep from shivering, her eyes looking straight ahead to the river.
"If I didn't know you better," he said eventually, "I'd say you were jealous of Camille." Her head whipped round to frown at him. "Fortunately I do know you better."
"I wonder if you know me at all."
"In the end does anybody ever know anybody?"
She ignored the rhetorical question. "Sometimes, Freddie, since you've come back, when I look at you, I see a stranger. And frankly that terrifies me because if I don't know you, who do I know?"
"It's an eternal quest, the eternal quest if you like. I'm not sure there can be more than one eternal quest... can there? What do you think?" He barrelled on, unstoppable, leaning forwards and smoking hard. "But what more, after all, has man wanted since the dawn of time but to know one another, truly know them? That, Moneypenny, is why we get married."
He raised his head to meet her eyes but she was frowning.
"No, that is pretentious rubbish you've picked up in French cafés and you know it is."
"It's not rubbish. Do you know what Plato said was man's greatest purpose?"
Bel was shivering now and she shrugged in irritation as she pulled her packet of cigarettes out of her handbag. "Does it really matter what Plato said? Come on, Freddie..."
"Plato said that every human being was one half of a whole. A whole with four arms and four legs and two heads and two hearts. And each one of us is constantly searching for our other half, the half that will make us complete."
He was staring at her very hard and Bel opened her mouth to reply, to ask a question, was that what Camille was to him? but he continued before she could speak.
"Though in the end it's pointless." He enunciated the word very clearly, despite his voice dropping. "Pointless. We're all strangers."
It was Bel's turn to watch Freddie, which she did as she uselessly flicked her freezing fingers over the catch on her lighter.
"Is Camille a stranger?" she asked eventually.
He met her eyes and held them for a long time in silence. Then his gaze dropped and he took her cigarette from her unresisting fingers, lit it with his lighter, and held it back out to her. She took it, her hand trembling a little as it brushed his. For a few moments they smoked in silence, both of them focussed on the progress of a barge down the Thames. Around their feet a pigeon picked at the long discarded crumbs of Bel's sandwich.
Freddie flung back his head and stared at the sky. "She hates it here. She hates the smell, the place we live, the people, she hates that I have to work so much..."
"Is there anything at all that she doesn't hate?" replied Bel lightly, nevertheless feeling a frisson of resentment at the implied insult to herself, to her job, to the kind of life she led, even to her country.
He grinned at her, recklessly and unwisely. "She likes me! Isn't that enough?"
"Is it?"
"Isn't it?"
She stood up suddenly. "You haven't grown up. You think you have, but really you haven't at all." She bit her lip. "I pity her, you know. Being married to someone as willfully insensitive as you."
"Bel, what-"
"I'm going inside. Or hadn't you noticed there was a frost last night? I'm numb."
She turned on her heel and left before he could reply, leaving him with his mouth open. He had the impression that one of them had hold of completely the wrong end of the stick and he was not so lacking in self-knowledge as to automatically assume it had to be her.
At the entrance, Bel disposed of her cigarette and took a couple of gulps of air, steadying herself, before pushing the door open and going into the warm. Freddie gave her a minute but it was too cold to stay outside without an excuse. He barrelled through the door shortly afterwards, to find her still there in the vestibule.
"Bel..." he began anxiously with a question in his voice, but she was smiling widely, forcefully even.
"Four legs, you say? And two heads?"
He concealed a sigh of relief. "Yes. Seen any around lately, have you?" He started down the corridor, glancing briefly back at her.
"Actually I was wondering if we'll find them on the moon. It's only a matter of time."
"Quite possibly. The question is, then, which of us should get the honour of conducting the interview, Hector or myself?"
They pushed open the double swing doors and strode through together.
"Shouldn't it be Lix's scoop? She is foreign affairs."
"You're assuming ITV doesn't get there first of course."
Bel stopped walking, a teasing grin on her face but her eyes were cautious. "What if they do? Are you worried?"
He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled at her, rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. "I'm not afraid of ITV. Anyway, I thought you were all about a bit of healthy competition. Or are you calling it something else these days? Fraternising with the-"
"As you said yourself: healthy competition." They had reached the studio door. "I'm so glad you feel that way about it."
She went in before him, her heels clicking on the linoleum.