Skewered - Chapter 1
A/N: This is experimental. Bear with me.
"Skewered."
It was almost a cliché, meeting in the meat aisle of the Food Hall of a Central London Marks and Spencer's. He'd only popped in to grab a bottle of wine and a ready-meal for one. It was a lonely existence for James Bond.
Madeleine and James had not lasted. She'd returned to the Continent, Bond somehow remained at MI6.
"Pardon?" The woman turned to find the source of the familiar voice staring back at her.
"Skewered," Bond repeated. "How I felt when I last ate lamb. Avoided the stuff ever since."
"That was over 10 years ago."
"It's become force of habit," he replied.
"You look well."
Bond grimaced. "And you look-"
"Not dead." She supplied.
"I was going to say that you look not a day over 30."
She rolled her eyes.
"You're too kind," she said crisply, "I'm not vain but it is fair to say that the years have been kind to me."
"Staying alive helped."
"To an extent."
He smiled thinly.
"Are you still in the service?"
"'In-house consultant,' whatever that means." It was Bond's turn to roll his eyes. "Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"In the service? You wouldn't be in front of me unless they helped."
"No, still at the Treasury."
"They let you stay?"
"I'm a good accountant."
"Yes, well..." He leaned forward on the pretence of browsing the sausages.
"Well?" She raised an eyebrow, challenging him.
"After 2008 wasn't there a tendency to prosecute bankers who stole large amounts of money...couple of hundred million dollars here and there..."
She could have slapped him. She nearly did.
"Cerebral hypoxia and attempted suicide make you reconsider things. Besides, you're forgetting I was the victim too," she said haughtily.
"Yes, yes you were." Bond mused.
"And I'm not a banker, I'm an accountant."
"Mhmm..." Bond was now looking at the chipolatas with considerable interest. By the time he turned, she had stalked away; heels clicking on the mezzanine.
Bond stared at her retreating back with a small smile, before grabbing a ready meal and wine and hurrying to the till. He was now a man with a plan.
He was skewered; he had been for 12 years.
As she left MS she found him lying in wait, leaning nonchalantly on a a dark metallic grey Aston Martin DB11.
"Mr Bond." She envied his car. The man had taste.
"Ms Lynd." He replied in kind. "It's beautiful isn't it," he gestured at the car, "Q-Branch wanted me to test it and I don't think they'll ever get it back. A 5.3 litre, V12 under the bonnet that they modified to make quieter with an experimental hybrid drive train. All the usual bells and whistles, a few extras too!"
"Defribulator as standard?"
"As standard."
"I hope I never have to use it."
"You haven't give me a heart attack yet."
"As I recall, last time I saved your life."
"Yes. Yes you did."
She pursed her lips. "Goodnight Mr Bond." She began to walk away.
"Dinner?"
"Pardon?" She turned, incredulous.
"Would you like dinner?"
"Tonight?"
"There is a little restaurant on the Marylebone Road. I fancy lamb chops."
"I thought you were having wine and a ready meal, judging by the contents of your bag."
"I was. Then I met a beautiful woman who I hadn't seen for many years who saved my life."
"We had dinner after that instance. I'm afraid I must be going Bond," she turned again.
"Vesper?" He opened the passenger door. "Please? I insist."
She turned at the mention of her first name to look at the emotion crossing the face of James Bond.
"I'm glad I didn't buy anything for the fridge today," she sighed.
"What?" Bond was momentarily confused.
"Milk or frozen," she said exasperatedly, gesturing at her shopping. "Let me put this in my car and I'll join you." She dialled a number on her phone, raised it to her ear and strode off. "Hi...yeah it's me...I'll be home a bit late tonight...something came up at work...don't wait up for me me...I know...I'll see you later...ok...Goodnight." By the time she had finished the conversation she was stood once again in front of Bond.
"Husband?" He queried.
"Not exactly."
"Boyfriend?"
"Do you think I'd agree to dinner with you if I was attached to somebody else?"
"You did last time."
"That was different. No, if you must know, that was my daughter. She's eleven. Twelve in September."
"Oh-" she got into the Aston and pulled the door shut. Bond joined her after a moment.
She sat there wondering if the man could do the maths. Any woman could.
A/N: Feel free to tell me what you think.