Bond was broken. Battered, bloodied, and on the brink of going into heat. He had accomplished the mission objectives, bringing the diplomat and his family back to England unharmed. Eliminating insurgents and blowing up buildings, having Q in his ear shouting directions and lecturing about gadgets and exploding pens—it had all been like so many times before. Except. Except that he had been forced to suppress his heat. Not just for a day or two, but for an entire week. And when he finally sat in the plane, the family safe and sound strapped up in their seatbelts, his mind started spinning.
Memories, long forgotten, forced their way up into his consciousness. Holding Olivia, M, his M, in his arms, closing her eyes; letting go of Vesper, watching her drown; and Tracy, again and again, Tracy, the first time he rescued her from the sea, the first time they kissed, made love. She had been the only alpha, he ever had bonded with.
The emotions became overwhelming and he had to fight to keep from crying. Bluntly, he brushed the single tear away, clenched his hands into fist, counted his breaths.
Somehow, he kept from falling apart on the plane. Delivered the family to someone from the government, before taking a cab to Six. It was late at night, and he hoped Mallory would be in his office.
Bond had never thought the special omega-clause in his contract would come to use. And when Mallory had taken over Mansfield's position, Bond had signed the new amendment without looking twice.
Driving through the empty streets of London, Bond recalled the first and until now last time he had been forced to use the clause. It had been an utter disaster. Olivia was an alpha who had been already bonded for many years back then, and as an unbounded omega, he could ask for her to be his back-up if he needed an alpha for his heats. Normally, the agents would find someone they trusted even if they wouldn't bond with them. But every now and then, something happened which required a higher security clearance, because the omega would be too vulnerable or traumatised to be helped through his heat by a civilian alpha.
Bond shook his head, a small smile on his face. For the entirety of three days, the two of them had been fighting for the upper hand. Olivia won in the end, but Bond went out of his way to avoid a repetition.
Now? Now he needed to be taken care of. Which had him up and in arms already. He knew he was close to a mental breakdown—and physically, going by the increasing pain and inability to move properly. Mallory was the only one who could be trusted with whatever secrets and information Bond would spill out during the next few days. He just hoped that Mallory was ready for him. He had sent a text just before he left the airport, but had gotten no reply.
Wouldn't that just be his luck in this case? He could feel the first cramps in his abdomen. They would become much stronger, because of the suppressants. Breathing through the pain, the cab came to a stop. Bond paid the driver and limped outside.
The building was almost empty, only the night watch was on guard and some of the boffins. He looked out for Q, but the unruly mop of hair was nowhere to be seen. Not that Q could help, being an omega himself. But Bond held a soft spot for the quartermaster and had on several occasions tried to get him into his bed. No luck there. Yet.
Moneypenny was nowhere to be seen. A bad sign, as Bond knocked on the door and pushed the handle down. It opened! Mallory was inside and clearly ready for him.
"I told Moneypenny to clear my schedule. She has arranged for the safe flat to be—"
A new cramp hit Bond and he curled in on himself, barely able to stand up, pressing his arms and hands into his stomach, trying to breathe. Then, he could feel Mallory's hands stroking his back softly. A soothing voice muttering utter nonsense to him. The smell of alpha, of safety, enveloping him. Bond leaned into the warm body standing close.
When the cramps had faded, Mallory somehow got him into another car, after having him drink some kind of medication. He felt dizzy, but the cramps vanished or at least it felt as if they did. He had no idea how long the drive had been or where they were, but Mallory got him out of the car and into a flat. Into a bed for sure, Bond thought, when he felt soft cushions and blankets around him.
Mallory had taken off their clothes, ensuring a much needed skin on skin contact, which helped Bond relax further. Mallory was massaging his chest and belly with strong, capable hands. Blankets were draped around Bond when he started shivering; they were taken away when he felt hot. Mallory seemed to know what to do without being prompted. Also, he was placing his hands in ways that soothed any cramps as soon as they started.
It wasn't a show of dominance as it had been with Olivia. This was care taking first and foremost. It felt good. Different. Bond relaxed enough for Mallory to begin cleaning his wounds and dressing them.
"Nothing seems broken," Mallory said quietly.
His voice was hushed and he murmured continuously while he examined Bond's body, explaining his findings and mumbling an occasional 'good boy' as Bond held still through the whole ordeal. Bond put it down to the onsetting of his heat that he didn't snap back at Mallory for the endearment, but deep down he had to admit that he revelled in it.
The feeling of being taken care of, not having to be the one in charge—Bond could let go, for once. Mallory posed no threat. He was an alpha, even his superior. But right here, right now, Mallory was the caretaker. Giving Bond what he needed, giving him the time and space to slip into the heat slowly and as painlessly as possible. At the same time grounding him with gentle caresses, the physical contact surprisingly calming to Bond.
Any sense of time was long gone when Bond felt a shift in his body, in the atmosphere in the room. Mallory had cleaned the first aid kit away and was helping Bond to drink some water, before climbing into the bed to him, this time cuddling closer.
The next phase had begun.