Bond. Carmon Bond.
Walking into MI6's backup base was ridiculously easy as far as Carmon was concerned. All she had to do was dress herself in a black pencil skirt, matching blazer and heels, smile at the guard and she was in. As she walked passed one of the exiting man, she made sure to bump into him, flashing him an apologetic smile as she lifted the badge clipped to his suit and enter the lift, clipping it to the inside of her own top. Managing to walk into the head of MI6's office was a little concerning, especially after what had happened, but she didn't let her mind dwell on that. She had more important things to focus on. Closing the glass door behind her, she pointed a finger at the surprised, short woman.
"First of all, building security sucks." She said, holding the widened blue eyed gaze of the white haired woman, "Secondly," She turns to blonde man she now stood beside, "How dare you leave without telling me." She snapped, half stomping her heeled foot.
The only change in his blank look was the raised eyebrow, "What are you, six?"
Copying the move, Carmon dropped her arm and looked him over critically, "And what are you, eighty?" She bit out sarcastically.
"Excuse me!" The short white haired lady called shrilly, "Who are you?"
Looking at the short woman calmly, she tilted her head, "Carmon ma'am."
"And how did you get in here?"
Raising her eyebrows slightly at the angry woman, she focused on her, "I walked in ma'am."
"How did you get past security?" She asked with a narrowed gaze.
Glancing at the man standing beside her, still not showing any emotion, she smirked. Looking back at the woman glaring at her, she stepped forward and placed the ID clip on the desk, "I walked past them ma'am."
For a moment no one moved, both blondes watching the woman behind the desk closely as she read over the name on the tag.
Gareth Mallory.
They were not disappointed.
"Idiots!" She hissed, yanking the phone up to her ear, "Tanner double the security and then get up here!" Slamming the phone down, she planted both hands on the desk and leant on it, heaving a strong sigh. When she looked up, she saw that her agent and Carmon were talking quietly. Obviously Bond knew her, 'No surprise there.' She thought with a roll of her eyes. Standing up straight, she watched the young lady closely as she spoke, "Why are you here, Ms Carmon?"
Without much of a look, Carmon reached into her blazer and pulled out an object the size of a tape cassette. "Thought you'd like this back." She said, tossing it to her.
Catching the item between her hands, she turned it around and looked at it, gasping loudly when she realized what she held.
"M?"
Looking up at Bond, she absentmindedly noticed the look of concern, "The hard-drive." She whispered, sitting down.
Bond looked from M to the device, to Carmon before looking back at his boss. "Are you alright M?" He asked, stepping forward.
"How did you get this?"
"I ran across the man on his way to deliver it to his boss and decided to get it back." She explained with a shrug.
"Where'd you run across him?" James asked, his brow furrowing in a frown.
"In a bar."
"And what were you doing in a bar?"
Smirking up at him, Carmon crossed her arms, "Having a drink."
As the two spoke, behind the desk M pulled out bottle and a glass, pouring out a generous measure of the amber liquid. "But how did you manage to get the hard-drive?"
Turning around, Carmon took the quarter filled glass, ignoring the narrowed gaze, and looked at the bare wall in front of her, "I took the bloody shot." She whispered, chucking back the liquid like a pro.
Ice blue eyes narrowed at the practiced move, while the others widened in shock at the answer.
Firmly placing the glass back on the table behind her, Carmon waited until she heard the older woman stop pouring before bringing it back around to her lips, only for it to be pulled from her grasp. Pushing up from the table, she glared at the frowning agent.
"Give me that back." She growled.
Throwing the drink back, Bond slammed the glass on desk, "I'm not going to let you get drunk."
"Why? You do it often enough."
"I happen to be over the age of eighteen." He growled.
M was glad she was already sitting at the mention of age, because she didn't know whether she was more horrified, angry, or surprised. She certainly didn't look under age. "Christ." She whispered, filling the glass for a third time.
Just as she was about to drink it, it was snatched away again. Reacting quickly, M reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist, "Enough." She said sternly, taking the glass with her other hand.
Turning around fully now, Carmon looked from the hand firmly gripping her wrist to the cool blue eyes of the petite woman, a slow smile spreading across her dark red lips. "Feisty," She licked her lips, "I bet you're just the same in bed."
Mouth dropping open, M stared wide eyed at the teen in front of her. Before she could say anything, Tanner entered her office.
"Ma'am?"
Dropping the hand she held, M pulled herself together and looked at her Chief of staff, "Mr Tanner, this is Ms Carmon, she's Bonds…" She waved her hand, not quite sure how to put it.
"Daughter."
M's head snapped up as the pair spoke in unison. Well, that made a lot more sense then what she had presumed. "Daughter?" She repeated quietly.
'How the bloody hell did I miss that? I'd know those eyes anywhere!'
Matching blue eyes stared at her; unnerving her as they seemed to peer into her soul.
Carmon let out a chuckle and looked at her father, "Wow, they really do think of you as a lady's man, don't they." She laughed, "Surely they realize you're actually a one woman man-"
"Carmon." He snapped, cutting her off effectively.
Any trace of amusement vanished at the tone. "Oh don't you Carmon me. I'm not the one who left without saying why!"
"You know damn well why I left."
"Oh yes, how could I forget. For Queen and Country!" She yelled, throwing her hands up, "How about for once, just once you admit the real reason you came back!"
The two stood toe-to-toe, panting in anger; neither willing to back down. Opening his mouth to release the stream of excuses he had used over the years, he found himself frozen by the sound of his boss's soft voice.
"Bond, take a walk. We'll finish up later."
Breathing in deeply, he took one last look at his daughters cold eyes and left.
As the glass door clicked shut, Carmon exhaled sharply. Straightening up, she took a calming breath before turning to Tanner, who stood next to his desk, and smiled.
"Mr Tanner, pleasure to meet you." She said, holding out her hand to shake his, "As you know, I'm Carmon Bond and your security sucks."
Sitting on the beautiful, yet uncomfortable couch in the room her father had been staying in, Carmon carefully started on shading in the last section of the picture she had been working on since she had been dropped off at the hotel. Just as she was about to finish it, a sharp knock echoed through the room. Looking up, she considered ignoring it, but as the second round started, she sighed and stood up.
"Just a minute!" She called, putting her sketch book down on the small table. Looking around for her black robe, she found it lying across the back of the armchair across from her. Sighing again, she quickly put it on and tied it as she crossed to the door. All but yanking it from its hinges, she growled, "What?"
The young man, dressed in his dark green jacket and black pants stepped back in fright, "I-I'm sorry ma'am, but you're room has b-been cancelled. You h-have until midnight to leave."
"By who?" She snarled.
"By me."
Looking from the shaking man to the short woman she had only met that day, Carmon pursed her lips. "What are you doing here?"
M smiled sadly, "To take you home dear."
Narrowing her ice blue eyes, Carmon glanced at the uncomfortable man beside the short woman, "And if I don't wish to leave with you?"
"My daughter, always has to be difficult she does." The petite woman joked, glancing up at the man who still stood beside her. Turning back to Carmon who now seemed less inclined to slam the door in her face, she continued, "Just because we had a fight dear doesn't mean you have to leave."
For a moment, Carmon held the door tightly in her grasp, starring at M in contemplation. Stepping aside sharply, she gestured for the older woman to come in before shutting the door. Outside, the man let out a sigh of relief before making his way back down to the front desk.
Back in the room, the two women stood facing each other. Carmon with her arms crossed, M with her briefcase hanging by her side.
"Why are you really here M?" Carmon asked, walking back over to the seat she had been sitting in before.
Watching the dark blonde closely, M spoke carefully. "To take you to my home."
Blue eyes snapped up from the sketch pad, "Why, I'm perfectly fine here."
"It would be unwise to leave the daughter of an agent alone," She explained, making her way over to the armchair, "Besides, I can't explain the expenses of renting the room now that Bond is on a mission."
"You wouldn't have too." Carmon dismissed, turning back to her sketch, "MI6 hasn't been paying for the room since the first night."
"What?"
Sighing, Carmon carefully rested her hand on the spiral of the book, making sure none of the charcoal came in contact with the paper as she answered, "Dad has been paying for everything since the second morning. He had it transferred to his account the morning he went back to work."
"Why would he do a thing like that?"
Across from her, Carmon stared at her, as if expecting her to answer her own question.
"What?" She asked, becoming self-conscious at the continuous stare.
"Nothing," She sighed, turning back to her picture.
M, watching the girl closely, frowned, "Aren't you going to pack?"
"No."
"Why ever not? The rooms been cancelled."
"And whose fault is that." Carmon drawled, looking up at her through her lashes. When all she got in reply was pursed lips, she sighed and closed her book, "Look, we have until midnight and I've already rung down for room service. I'm not leaving anytime soon, so you might as well make yourself at home."
"I was right." The short woman scoffed, "You are difficult."
"And you're a bitch, so I guess we're even." She said, reopening her book. Only a little more and it'd be finished.
"You're father called me a bitch."
Carmon glanced up, "Why would he do that?" She asked sarcastically.
She ran a hand through her short hair, "I told the Doctor to ask about Skyfall." She admitted quietly, crossing her legs.
Slowly, the blonde girl looked up at the woman, her expression blank. "You're lucky."
"Oh? How so?" The shorter of the two asked disbelievingly.
"Anyone else and he would have shot them." She said, closing the book she held with a snap, "Skyfall is not something he talks about, and for good reason." Standing, she ran a hand through her long hair, "The psychological problems that his report will not doubt have are from things you know nothing about."
"I may not have been as young as he was when he lost his parents," M started, a deep frown marring her expression. "But the trauma he suffered-"
Carmon let out a sharp laugh, "The trauma from losing ones parents at such a young age. The reason he rejects authority figures, because he had no one to tell him right from wrong and had to be independent from such a young age. Ha!" She turned around, her hair flaring out, "He was taking care of himself long before those people died. Your reports," She spat, "Only tell part of the story. You, only know part of the story."
Turning away from the gobsmacked woman, Carmon ran both hands through her hair. Chest heaving from her rant, she waited until her heart had calmed enough before turning back around to face her father's boss. Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head. "Why don't you order yourself something to eat, I'll run you a bath. After a day like today, I have no doubt you'd like to relax."
"What I'd like is to go home."
"Yes, well what I'd like is to have my father not constantly be in danger of being killed, but just like you, life's a bitch." She looked at her, flicking her head to the phone by the door, "Ring for tea while I run your bath and then I'll pack." She made sure to be in the bedroom before the older woman had a chance to say anything.
Standing there, just around the corner, she waited, listening. When she heard M place her order, she moved through to the bathroom. Flipping the tap to almost boiling, she added some scented body wash before quickly cleaning up the mess she had made earlier. Taking her dirty clothes to the bedroom where she dumped them on the bed to deal with later. Looking through the cupboard, she pulled out the extra towel and robe, hanging the later on the back of the door and placing the towel on the basin beside the tub. Listening closely, she heard the tell-tale sign of a phone being replaced on the hook. Sighing, she dipped her hand into hot bubbly water. Flicking the water from her hand, she turned the tap off before walking back through to the sitting room.
"Baths ready."
Nodding, M stood up from where she sat, "Dinner will be here in twenty minutes." When all she got was a dismissive wave of her hand, she sighed and left. She didn't understand why she was bending to the will of a seventeen year old, or why she was allowing her to speak to her in such a way, but there she was, stripping down to hop in the heavenly scented bath because she told her to. Stepping into the hot water, she let out a groan in pleasure.
'Christ this feels wonderful.'
Back in the sitting room, Carmon sat back in her spot on the uncomfortable sofa and opened her book once more. Now that the woman wasn't in the room, she could finish it. As she focused on the shading, she slowly relaxed, the anger she felt towards the head of MI6 gradually leaving her. Tongue peeking out between her bare lips, she carefully signed the picture in the bottom right corner. Holding it back, she looked over the sketch. Nodding in acceptance, she looked up at the clock. Fifteen minutes until dinner would arrive. Just enough time to pack. Cleaning up her art supplies, she stacked everything up and carried it into the bedroom.
Spying her clothes from earlier still on the bed, she pulled out her small suitcase and stuffed them in before zipping it up. Her gear done, she moved to the wardrobe and pulled out the few clothes her father had left behind and folded them. Once all the clothes were neatly folded, she pulled out the duffle bag from the bottom of the cupboard and put them in. Zipping it up, she took both out to the main room and left them by the door before turning round and packing the few items she had in her satchel. As she was clipping it shut, there was a knock on the door.
"Right on time." She muttered, placing her bag with the rest by the door. Opening it, she stepped aside to allow the man to push the cart through.
"Will that be all ma'am?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Of course ma'am." He tipped his head and left, closing the door behind him.
Uncovering the two dishes, she carried them over to the small table by the window, placing them down just as M walked out of the bedroom, running a hand through her darkened hair. Glancing her over, Carmon couldn't help but smile as the somewhat damp satin robe draped across her body like liquid. On her, it came to her knees, but on M, it rested comfortably around her shins. Dragging her eyes back up from her waist, she noticed how low the pink material sat open. She could definitely understand the allure the woman had.
"Feel better?" She asked, straightening up.
"Yes, thank you." M adjusted the neckline of the robe, "Are you?"
Arching a brow at the shorter woman, Carmon looked at her, "Am I what?"
"Calmer?"
She snorted, "I suppose so, yes."
Pulling her chair out, M sat down, "So you won't be calling me a bitch again?"
Sitting across from her, Carmon smiled faintly, amusement colouring her eyes, "The night is still young M."
Ice blue eyes snapped open at the light touch on her ankle. Sitting up, she looked at the short woman smiling at her from the end of the bed.
"Good morning dear."
Carmon narrowed her eyes at the cheerful woman, "What time it is?"
"Five thirty."
"Fuck you and everything you stand for." She spat out before falling back to bed, pulling the blanket up and over her head.
Arching her brow, M raised the steaming cup she held to her lips to hide her smile, "Breakfast will be ready soon."
A muffled groan was her response.
Shaking her head, she turned and left, closing the door behind her.
After waiting a few moments, Carmon flung the blanket back and got up. No point in lazing about now that she was awake. Pulling out the only other set of clothes she had with her, Carmon ducked into the bathroom and quickly changed. Looking into the mirror above the sink, she stared at reflection. Her eyes and hair were a dead match for her fathers, but everything else, the high cheekbones, small nose and thin lips were all her mother. Sighing, she ran a brush through her hair and tied it up, not bothering with any makeup.
Down in the kitchen, M made up two plates of eggs and toast. She wasn't a big eater in the morning and she had the feeling neither was Carmon. 'How did I not know James had a daughter? We do a background check every year. Why didn't he tell us? Who is she? Why is she here?' Just as she was placing the plates on the table, the person occupying her thoughts walked in dressed in skinny jeans and t-shirt. Glancing down at her feet, she couldn't help but arch her brow in question at the black converse, but otherwise stayed silent.
As the teen sat down at the small table, she turned to the kettle. "Tea?" She inquired, filling her cup up once more.
"No thank you."
Nodding, she turned around and sat across from the already eating girl, "What will you do today?"
"I'll have to go out shopping. I only have what I wore yesterday and this," She gestured to what she had on, "Then I'll start looking for an apartment for Dad and I. When I get back, I'll unpack what little of our gear I have."
"An apartment?" M asked, her brow furrowing as she looked at the girl.
Finally Carmon looked up at her, "Well you did sell Dads old one."
"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like." She offered, "I'm hardly here, so you'd have the place to yourself most of the time."
Carmon huffed out a laugh, "I honestly don't believe you would allow both my father and I to stay here if he comes back." She smirked at the older woman, picking up her piece of toast, "After all, you wouldn't allow him to stay the night when he returned."
M looked down at the table in guilt. She had just been so angry. She knew he had been in severe pain when she found him in the dining room, but her anger at him for not telling her he was alive stopped her from offering him to stay. Instead, she had ordered him away.
"James always come back." She whispered.
"One day he won't."
After that, they spoke very little, sitting in a heavy silence until M got up to get ready. While the shorter woman went upstairs, Carmon cleared up the small mess left behind. Washing the dishes the by hand always helped clear her mind. Leaving them to dry on the rack, she left the kitchen to retrieve her satchel from the guest room. Making sure her wallet was in there, she picked up her jacket and left, running into M in the hall. Looking her over, she noticed the tight navy dress she wore under the loose coat that she would no doubt wear the whole day. The dark black stockings gave her pause for a moment, the outfit would look much better with sheer ones. She knew the older woman must know that, so why was she wearing those ones?
M, once again beginning to feel uncomfortable at the analysing glare, cleared her throat. "Ready to go?" She asked when blue eyes locked with her own.
"After you."
Nodding, M lead the way down the stairs and to the front door. As she pulled her trench out from the cupboard, she looked at the young girl, "Would you like to be dropped off somewhere?"
"No, I'll take a bus or something."
Nodding again, M walked out, spying the car pulled up in front of the house. "I'll give you my direct number, just in case you need anything."
Carmon snorted, "I already have it."
"What?"
"Dad gave it to me in case of an emergency before he left yesterday. See," She said, holding her cell up, the screen alight with M's contact information, "It's under Bitch."
M rolled her eyes, "Very funny."
"I thought so."
Shaking her head, M opened the door and hopped in, only to pause and look at her over the door, "You will be careful won't you."
"I will."
"Good." M sighed, "Call if you need help."
This time Carmon rolled her eyes, "Get in. You're late."
"Right, bye."
Again Carmon's eyes rolled. "Bye." She waited until the car was gone before turning away and walking down the street. "Christ," She muttered, pulling out her headphones. Staying with her was going to be an experience.
When M walked through the door that night, it was to the sight of Carmon sitting in front of the lit fire, sketch book resting on her raised knees, listening to something, if her headphones where anything to go by. Oddly enough, seeing the teenager so relaxed in her home didn't cause her any hesitation, rather, she felt quite warmed by the sight. She refused to look into why she didn't mind Carmon staying with her beyond the idea that she was lonely.
Slipping from her over coat, she hung it up in the cupboard and walked over to the teen, stopping just beside the armchair she had set up near the fireplace and rested her briefcase beside it. As she rummaged through it, looking for the file she wanted to read over, she spoke.
"What do you want for tea? I can have my driver-"
"I've already prepared tea." Carmon said, wrapping her headphone around the small brick beside her, "If you can wait an hour to eat, I can heat it up for you." She continued, making her way into the kitchen.
"You prepared-" She spoke, following the blonde, "I usually just order in."
Glancing up from where she was bent over, putting a dish in the oven, Carmon spoke, "Yes, I figured that. So I went to the grocers around the corner and bought a few things." Standing up, she wiped her hands on the dish towel, "You have enough time to shower if you want."
"What is it?" The older woman asked, eyeing the oven suspiciously as her younger roommate walked past.
"A casserole."
M nodded slowly, surprise stilling clinging to her features. When she was seventeen she didn't know how to scramble eggs, let alone make a casserole. "I think I'll work instead." She said, turning around.
Already sitting back in the corner of her of the sofa, the young Bond picked up her sketch book once more, "Okay."
Picking up her brief case, she walked round to her desk and set up her computer. Not too long later both women were wrapped up in their own work. One focused on the reports on the screen, the other on the page before her. But as the time passed, M noticed that Carmon was looking up at her before turning back to her book. Finally, when she could no longer stand staring at her screen, wondering why she was constantly under scrutiny from the younger girl, she looked up at her.
"Is there something wrong?" She asked, folding her arms on the desk calmly.
"No."
"Then would you explain why you keep looking at me?"
"I can't look at a beautiful woman?"
"That still doesn't explain why you were looking at me." She said with a frown.
She smiled widely, "It'll have to do for now. Tea's ready."
"That was delicious Carmon." M said, leaning back in her seat at the table, "Where did you learn to cook like that?"
Copying her, Carmon shrugged, "When I was growing up, my mother left me alone quite a bit, so I spent most of my childhood with the lady who lived upstairs. She taught me pretty much everything I know. She didn't have any of her own children, said she didn't find the right man to settle down with. Maria, her name was. She was more of a mother to me than my own was."
Frowning, M slowly licked her lips, "If you don't mind my asking Carmon, who is your mother?"
"Elizabeth Saxton."
"Does she know where you are?"
"She's dead."
M's eyes widened at the blunt answer, "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," She shook her head, "She gave up her rights to me when I found dad. She never wanted me."
"So James has full parental rights over you." She nodded, "What did you do when he was working?" She asked, leaning forward.
"When I moved in with him, he sat me down and explained what he did. He explained that he couldn't be here all the time and gave me the choice of going to boarding school or having a live in nanny. I chose boarding school."
"How did that work out? What if you were on holidays and he was away?"
Carmon looked at the white haired woman, eyes flicking from one spot to the next, "Why do you want to know?"
"Curiosity." She said shrugging, but the light blush of her cheeks said otherwise.
Smirking, Carmon huffed, "Uh-huh. Well, for the most part, he tried to be there for me when I came home, but if he couldn't be, I stayed with Maria, failing that, he hired someone to stay with me."
For a few minutes, neither spoke. Carmon sat watching as M put her thoughts in order, waiting for her to ask whatever questions were floating around in her head.
"How much do you know of what your father does?" She asked slowly, looking at her without any trace of emotion, "You said he explained what he did, how much did he tell you?"
"Everything."
"What."
"Dad told me everything. He works for MI6, he goes on missions to bring down terrorist cells, he kills when he's ordered too." She paused, looking at the frozen woman, "That he's been tortured multiple times. That your bodyguard was part of a group called Quantum and tried to kill you. That someone is now trying to destroy you and everything you've worked so hard for and that you're not telling him everything." She finished slowly, watching the older woman.
"He shouldn't have told you any of that." She whispered angrily.
Carmon shrugged, "If he hadn't, I wouldn't have known about the hard-drive and been able to bring it back to you." She sighed, rolling her shoulders, "Besides, who else is he going to confide in? He can't go to a therapist, he wouldn't be able to speak about everything. He can't go to his co-workers, even if they would understand what he's feeling, because they haven't been read in on some of the cases he's dealt with or don't have the clearance. The only one who he would be able to talk to wouldn't listen to him, because to her, he's nothing but a pawn. She only likes him because he's the best she's got."
M pursed her lips, "You go for the jugular don't you."
"M," She sighed, leaning forward, "You must realise by now that I don't care about much. My father is at the top of the short list of what I do care about, and because he works for you, he is in constant danger. I have a lot of anger towards you for sending him away."
"He doesn't do it for me; he does it for Queen and Country. It's his duty!"
Carmon shook her head and pushed up from the table. "I wish it were that simple." She sighed, turning to leave.
"If that's the way you feel," M called, standing up, "Why are you still here?"
"Because for some reason, my father cares for you and I care for my father." She turned her head, barely looking over her shoulder, "I'm going to have a shower."
And before she could say any more, the blonde was gone, leaving M standing in her kitchen confused with what she had just been told.
Sitting at her desk, M read over the progress report Bond had sent her. It wasn't much, but at least he was getting somewhere. Sighing, she clicked out of it and opened another email when Carmon walked back down, dressed in her short black satin nightie and matching robe. Without a word, she sat down in the corner of her sofa and opened her book. 'All right then.' M mentally sighed, turning back to focus on her work.
It wasn't long, probably an hour or so later that Carmon closed her book and neatly packed away her pencils. After stacking them carefully on her book, she laid down with her head on the small throw pillow she had been resting against and sighed.
"Do you really think he would sleep with an underage girl?" She asked quietly, looking up at the white ceiling.
Looking up from her screen, M frowned, not sure where this line of questioning was going, "Your father?" She pursed her lips, "I would not be surprised if it turned out some of the women he's slept with were underage." She said, leaning back in her chair, "Why?"
Blinking quickly to stop the tears from spilling over, Carmon answered, "He isn't what everyone thinks he is. They're just marks, part of the job." She whispered, rolling onto her side, "No one looks past the exterior, not when you're double O."
"No, I don't suppose they do."
"I thought for sure you would." She sighed, "The way he speaks about you, I thought for sure you saw beyond the façade of a womanizer." Shaking her head, she stood up, collecting her book and pencils, "I was wrong."
"Were you?"
"Yes."
M sat back in her chair, her hands folded neatly across her stomach, watching as she made her way to the stairs.
"M," She said, pausing on the first stair, "You should know, I know everything about my father. He holds nothing back when he tells me things. Because of this, I know he isn't the lady's man you think he is. He doesn't sleep with anyone outside of work. He wouldn't betray the woman he loves like that."
Having said her piece, she nodded her head, whispered a soft good night and went to bed.
For the next few days, things continued the way they had on the first day, M went to work, Carmon went apartment hunting, hoping to find something before her father came back so he wouldn't be forced to stay in a hotel. They shared dinner, made small talk, never touching on the topic of James, and sat in the living room together to work on separate things before heading to bed. But on the fourth night, things changed.
M was sitting on the sofa, laptop resting on her knees, staring at the screen with an unreadable expression. She had found the photo that had been used in the short animation she had received just before MI6 had blown up. So focused on the pictures in front of her, she didn't hear the door opening behind her.
"I'm back."
Jumping, M spun around, "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," She admonished, turning back to her screen.
"Sorry." Carmon said sheepishly, stopping behind her to look at the screen, "What's that?" She asked, pointing to the portrait of her in the union jack.
"A taunt."
"Oh?"
"Someone from my past wants to kill me."
"No kidding, blowing up your office was just for fun." She drawled, having already guess that. Looking at her, she frowned, "You know who it is, don't you."
"That photo was taken in Hong Kong before I became M. I gave a rogue agent to the Chinese after he hacked their system and got six other agents back."
"So it's the rogue agent wanting revenge."
"He's supposed to be dead."
"So was Dad." Carmon scoffed, walking around the sofa to put the small bag on the coffee table, "Come on, you need to eat."
M finally looked up from the screen, "What'd you get?"
Carmon hesitated, "Chinese."
"I think I'll pass." She replied dryly.
Grimacing, Carmon looked up at her, "I can make you something."
M shook her head, "No, that's the reason you went out to get food, you didn't want to cook." She sighed, "Besides, I'm not all that hungry."
Frowning, Carmon looked her over, "You probably haven't eaten since this morning." She commented, heading for the kitchen. Seconds later, she walked back out, thrusting a banana in front of the sitting woman's face. "Here."
"A banana?" She asked, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.
Carmon shrugged, "Well, I don't feel like cooking, and it should be enough to tide you over until morning." She smirked, "Plus, potassium."
"What am I going to do with you?" She sighed before peeling away the yellow skin.
"Oh I could think of a few things." She waggled her brows, laughing when M looked at her in shock.
Shaking her head, she muttered quietly under her breath, "Christ."
Flashing her a smile, Carmon sat down on the floor and opened the small container of rice, easily manipulating the chopsticks in her hand to pick up her food. As the two ate, M continued to stare at her screen in contemplation. Before her, the screen flashed, the images she had open distorting before an advert popped up. Eyes widening, she dropped what was left of her banana.
"Shit." She hissed, grapping her cell from the table in front of her, pressing one on her speed dial, "Tanner, he's hacked into the network again. Trace it."
Dropping her own dinner, Carmon all but dived onto the couch beside her, staring at the slot machine on the screen. "Christ." She looked from one column to the next, eyeing the coat of arms, M and gun before it started spinning. Slowly one by one, each picture was replaced with a skull. A few seconds later, the screen went black, the words Think on your sins sitting in the middle tauntingly. The screen flashed and returned to what it was before.
"What do you mean he didn't hack into the network?" She waited, "He used mine? How?"
Carmon looked from the computer to M.
"Well find out!" She cried, snapping the phone shut. "Christ."
Hopping up, Carmon quickly cleaned up their food, dumping it all in the bin in the kitchen before walking back out.
"What are you doing?" M asked, frowning at the rushing girl.
"We're leaving." She said, taking the laptop and putting it on her desk. "He knows where you live. You're not safe here."
"What are you talking about? This place is constantly being watched."
Carmon sighed, "M, by hacking into your own network, not MI6's, he found out where you live. This man blew up MI6 Headquarters. I don't think a few guards are going to stop him from coming in here and killing you while you sleep." She glared at the short woman, "So grab what you need, some old clothes you won't miss and let's go."
"Let me call the ca-"
"No."
"Why?"
"Forgive me for not trusting your people, but the last person who drove you tried to kill you. We'll take a taxi."
Six blocks from her house, dressed in her work clothes with only a thin jacket on, M pulled a small suitcase behind her, mentally arguing with herself on why she decided to continue wearing her heels. 'Oh yes, because she said we were going to take a taxi, not walk.' She sighed and swapped her case to her other hand. Looking beside her, she sneered at the flats her companion wore while adjusting the small duffle she had slung over her shoulder.
"You've probably realized, but I'm not as young as you, nor am I in flats, so when can we get that blasted taxi." She gripped, "And why did you pack so much? You told me to bring only what I needed."
Rolling her eyes, Carmon readjusted the bag hanging from her own shoulder, "I'll ring for a taxi after the next block or so. As for the bags, we don't know if he knows I'm staying with you, so I bought everything with me, besides, Dad would be pissed if I left his gear there."
"You have your fathers stuff?" M asked, frowning at her.
"Well I wasn't leaving it at the hotel."
"What do you have?"
"Clothes mostly, pair of shoes, journal." She shrugged, "The usual."
M looked up at her in surprise, "He keeps a journal?"
She nodded.
"What does he write about?"
"He doesn't."
"He doesn't what?"
"Write. He's not allowed to. He draws." She explained as she dug around her own satchel. Growling, she took the bag from her shoulder containing her father's things and thrust it to M, "Hold this, I can't find my cell."
Grabbing the bag, M watched as she lifted things from out of the bag. Sketch book, novel, MP3, pistol. "You have a gun!" She gasped, looking up the teenager with wide eyes.
Carmon looked up at her with an arched brow, "My fathers an MI6 agent and I'm bunking with the Head of said agency, of course I have a gun!"
"Was that a silencer?" She cried, her eyes focusing back on the bag.
Sighing, Carmon closed her satchel and took back her father's gear, "Think of it this way, if someone was attacking us in your house and I shot them, would you want the neighbours ringing the police because they heard gun shots?" She asked, not looking up from the small buttons she was taping.
M tilted her head in agreement, only to glare sternly at her at her next thought, "How'd you even get a gun in the first place?" At the arched brow, she sighed and looked down the road, "Right, never mind."
"Yes, hello," Carmon turned slightly, speaking softly into her phone, "I would like a taxi to take my mother and I to the Molten hotel." She waited a few beats, listening to the server before giving their whereabouts. Nodding her head, she said a soft thank you before ending the call. "Five minutes."
"Good." M grumbled, looking around. She sighed and glanced back at the blonde, "We're staying at that dump?"
"No." And that was all she said on the matter until the taxi arrived.
Looking around the dingey little room, M couldn't help but scowl. The brown wallpaper was peeling off everywhere, the old wooden floor looked like it hadn't been swept in month, and the bed which their bags sat on was nothing more than a mattress on top of a pile of bricks and piece of board.
"I'm not staying here." She snapped, spinning around to look at the girl coming out of the disgusting bathroom.
"You're not." She said, moving to stand beside her, "Which case holds your old clothes?"
M pointed to the small duffle bag beside her case. Before she could say anything, Carmon unzipped it and started unpacking the small amount of clothes; hanging up the few dresses that looked like they hadn't been worn in years. The jackets that matched soon followed the dresses, as did the pants and tops, while the shoes were sat neatly underneath. When she finally pulled out the underwear, M found her voice.
"What are you doing?" She hissed, snatching the white cotton bra the teen held out of her hand.
"Making it look like you're actually staying here!" She hissed back, snatching the article of clothing back.
"Why?" M demanded as she watched her dump the last few items in the top drawer of the chest of drawers.
"So," She said, glancing up, "If they look for you, they'll think you are staying here."
"They'll catch on when I don't come back." She pointed out, crossing her arms.
Taking the bag over to the still open wardrobe, Carmon dropped it down next to the shoes, "Doesn't matter. By that time, Dad should be back and you'll have proper protection."
Frowning, M uncrossed her arms. "If we're not staying here, then where are we staying?"
Carmon looked at her with a smirk, "You're office."
"It doesn't have a bed." The older woman bit out.
"No, but it has a couch."
M sighed and looked at the ceiling, it wasn't the worst plan in the world, and she couldn't deny that the girl had a point in making it look like she was staying somewhere else, but she wished she had told her from the beginning. 'Just like Bond.' She thought, looking back at the blonde who was swinging her bags back over her shoulders. She frowned as a thought occurred to her, "Tell me we're not walking."
Looking up at her slowly, Carmon licked her lips, "It's not that far."
"It's at least ten blocks." She ground out, "And may I once again point out my heels and my age."
Biting down on her bottom lip, Carmon looked at the shoes in question. They were wedges, low ones, but still, not made for walking long distances in. Flicking her eyes up at the still glaring woman, she unzipped her own suitcase and pulled out a pair of flats and held them out for her, "Here, you can borrow these."
Looking at the plain black slip ons, she sighed and took them, stepping out of her shoes as she did so. As she tugged them on, she thought of something else, "How are we getting out of here? There are camera's in the front office."
The guilty look came back. "The fire escape."
"You must be joking." She said, slowly straightening up.
Quickly picking up the discarded heels, Carmon slipped them into her case and zipped it up, "We can't be seen leaving, especially with our bags."
"I'm too old to be climbing down the fire escape." M said crossly.
"It's only one story, you'll be fine."
When the two finally entered into M's large office, it was quite obvious that both of them were glad to finally sit down. They both put their bags in the far corner, although Carmon kept her satchel beside the sofa she and M were sitting on, and relaxed as much as they could.
"I'm never doing that again." M moaned, resting her feet on the small table in front of them.
"What? Climbing down a fire escape, or walking the entire way here?" Carmon asked, closing her eyes.
M chuckled, "Both."
Huffing a soft laugh, Carmon cracked open her eyes and watched her as she felt her stand up.
"I need a drink."
"I don't suppose you'll pour me one, will you?"
"Not bloody likely." M snorted.
Shrugging, Carmon turned back to face the wall, "Worth a try."
Settling back down, she listened to the sounds of her pour a drink. It didn't take long for her re-join her on the sofa, but by the time she did, she was already dozing off. It was the sound of the glass door clanging open that jolted her back to reality. Sitting up straight, she looked around to find Tanner standing there, surprise and confusion colouring his face.
"Ma'am? What are you doing here?"
Placing her glass on the table, M stood up and made her way over to the shocked man, "Well, it was pointed out that by hacking my own network, the perpetrator now knows where I live, so Carmon and I left the house and came here."
"But your house is under constant surveillance ma'am." He said, frowning, "No one would be able to get in."
Looking behind her at the scoff, M rolled her eyes, "They managed to blow up HQ from my office, I'm not taking the chance that they can get into my house and kill either of us."
"Us, ma'am?"
Carmon gasped, "Have you forgotten me already Mr Tanner?" She asked, mockingly placing her hand over her heart, "I'm hurt."
"I-oh, Miss Bond. I didn't see you there." He shifted uneasily, looking away from either woman.
Snorting, Carmon waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder, "It's cool. Ignore me, I'm gonna try to sleep." She said, twisting her body around so she sleep comfortably on the somewhat short couch. "I'm too old to do so much walking." She peeked around the edge of the sofa and smirked at the glaring woman, "Or to climb down a fire escape." She winked before rolling over and settling down.
Tanner looked from the couch to M, frowning in confusion, "Ma'am?"
M shook her head, "Ignore her Tanner; she's just being a pain."
"I resent that."
Growling, M sneered at the back of her sofa, "Go to sleep already." All she got was the young woman flipping her the bird. Sighing, she turned back to her chief of staff, "So what have you found out?"
Later that night, after most of her staff had gone home; M sat on the coffee table and looked at the sleeping girl. During her sleep, some of her hair had come lose from her braid and covered her face. Leaning forward, she gently tucked the strands behind her ear, sighing when she sat back. She looked so peaceful, so calm, young. Looking at the teenager, she suddenly felt old. Sighing again, she stood up and walked around the sofa to her desk.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Stopping at the soft voice, thick with sleep, she turned and looked at the now sitting up blonde, "To work."
"You need to sleep."
Turning fully now, she looked at the girl in amusement, "If you haven't realized, there's only one sofa, and you've already claimed it."
Standing up with a soft moan, Carmon carefully made her way around the dark blue furniture and passed the stout woman, "Couch is all yours."
Arching her brow, M watched her as she pulled open the glass door, "And where are you going?"
"Toilet, then to find something to eat." She yawned, "Want anything?"
M shook her head, "No thank you."
"Kay, back soon." She mumbled before stumbling away.
Shaking her head once more, M turned to the sofa and sighed, she wasn't going to get much sleep on the uncomfortable piece of furniture, that's for sure.
When Carmon finally came back, she walked into the office expecting to find M sitting at her desk, typing away on her computer. What she found instead was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. M had curled up on half of the couch, arm tucked under the small pillow she rested her head on with her thin jacket covering her from her shoulders to her toes. Smiling, Carmon put the water bottles and fruit she carried on the small cabinet near the wall and quietly picked up her satchel. Making her way to the other side of the coffee table, she sat down and pulled out her art supplies and sketch book, as well as her phone. Clicking a few buttons, she made sure the shutter and flash were off before taking a quick picture of the sleeping woman, intending to show it to her father as soon as she could. Slipping her phone back in her bag, she pulled her book close to her and opened to a blank page. She needed to draw this. Picking up her pencil, she started sketching the outlines of the slumbering woman, looking up occasionally when she made a sound to check she was still asleep.
It didn't take her long to finish the drawing, the picture only requiring the barest of shading as it was a simple line drawing, so after she packed up, she found herself faced with the question of where to sleep.
"Cold hard floor, or the cold hard table." She muttered under her breath, "Decisions, decisions."
On the sofa, M sighed and wriggled further back into the cushions, "Shut up and lie down already." She ordered, her eyes still closed.
When Carmon failed to do as she was told, M sighed and held up her arm, lifting her jacket up for her to slide on in beside her, "Get in."
Mentally shrugging, Carmon slipped off her shoes and carefully laid down on next to woman. Forcing herself not to tense up anymore then she was when M lowered her arm over her waist, she swallowed around the lump in her throat. "The last time I slept on a couch with someone was when Maria was looking after me." She admitted quietly, staring at the ceiling.
"Do you still speak to her?"
As she spoke, she slowly relaxed into warm embrace, "At least once a week. She likes to be kept up to date with everything that's happening in my life."
"She sounds like a lovely person."
"Yeah, she is." Carmon sighed, settling down fully. "Night M."
"Good night Carmon."
Lying on her side, held against the short woman behind her, Carmon smirked, "Hey M."
"What?"
"Can I tell Tanner I slept with you in the morning?"
It took her a little while, but when Carmon finally found the showers, she sighed in relief. While her sleep was much more restful then she had originally thought it would be, sleeping in her jeans was not something she liked to do; especially when the person she shared the sofa with was a furnace. Pulling a face at the memory of waking up, half under the small woman, sweating up a storm, Carmon hung her bag on a hook, pausing when she noticed a neatly folded pile of clothes underneath a familiar pink robe she hadn't seen since moving in with M. Scoffing in amusement, she grabbed her few toiletries, her robes and made her way to the showers.
"Hello M." She sang, startling the older woman into dropping something. Laughing when she heard a soft yelp followed by a muttered curse, she slipped into the other cubicle.
"Carmon? What are you doing here? In fact, what are you doing up?"
"I'm here to have a shower." She explained, pulling her shirt over her head, "As for the reason I'm up, this weird lady slept on top of me and she was like a bloody furnace. I woke up sweating like a pig."
"Weird lady!"
Carmon chuckled and turned on the taps. Testing the water with her hand, she quickly stepped under the cool water and started running her hand through her hair. Humming softly as she poured her shampoo into her hand, she quickly massaged it into her scalp. As she ran her soaped up hands through to the ends of her hair, she quietly started singing.
"It's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough, you'll always sound precocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious."
In the stall next to her, M groaned. Smirking, she sang louder, making sure to be careful about not getting any of the suds in her mouth.
"Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay
Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay
Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay
Um diddle, diddle diddle, um diddle ay."
"You're doing this on purpose," M huffed, "Aren't you?"
Laughing, Carmon reached out for her conditioner, "What's wrong M? Don't like Julie Andrews?"
"I have nothing against the woman, but you singing at the top of your lungs this early is not something I can handle right now."
Hearing the tiredness in the older woman's voice, Carmon nodded to herself, "Very well, I won't sing."
"Thank you."
She answered in a voice just as soft, "You're welcome M."
Not too long later, when Carmon was drying herself off, the older woman cursed under her breath.
"Damn."
Looking up, Carmon frowned, "What's wrong?"
"I forgot my robe and my clothes." She groused, slapping her hand against the thin wall between them.
Chuckling, Carmon eyed the pink satin robe she had hung up on the back of her door beside her black one. For a moment she considered not telling her she had picked it up, but considering everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, she decided not to push the woman any further. Wrapping her towel around her, she tugged it from its place and carefully hung it over the wall into the other cubicle, making sure to not drop it, in case it fell in some water.
"Here." She waited until the soft material was tugged from her hand before dropping her arm.
"Thank you, Carmon."
"No problem," She hesitated for a second before continuing, "If you want, I can stay in here so you can get dressed, or I can grab your clothes for you."
For several minutes, the older woman didn't answer, worrying Carmon enough to call out to her. "M?"
A soft sigh, "That would be very kind of you dear, thank you."
She wasn't sure to what M was talking about, but when she didn't hear the sound of her leaving her own cubicle, she figured she was waiting for her to grab her clothes from the bench. "Okay, just give me a second." She muttered, quickly pulling on her own satin robe. Tying the sash tightly, she left the stall and padded to the bench, picking up the clothes and the small bag beside it. Turning around, she let a startled shriek and dropped the bag, while she clutched the clothes to her chest.
"Carmon? Is everything alright?"
Swallowing down her panic, Carmon called back to the older woman, never taking her eyes from the rapidly growing red faced man in front of her. "I'm fine; Mr Tanner startled me is all."
"I-I apologize Miss Bond, I-I didn't know you were here." He stuttered, looking anywhere else but at the teen.
"It's fine." Smiling slightly, Carmon snatched up the fallen bag and walked back over to the showers, knocking on the only closed door. When it opened, she held out the clothes, the bag resting on top.
"Thank you." M said quietly, her cheeks matching her robe.
Giving her a half smile, she glanced her over, her whole body freezing when she saw the dark black swirl on the inside of her right ankle. She couldn't see it all, but from where she was standing, it looked like a… Eyes widening, she looked back up at the concerned blue eyes in front of her. How hadn't she seen it the first night?
"Holy shit."
"Carmon?"
"Holy shit." She repeated, looking back down at the elegant J that rested on her pale skin.
Seeing where she was looking, M tensed, "Carmon, I ca-"
"Does anyone know you have-"
"No."
She smiled widely at the shorter woman, "Cool."
The two were brought from their quiet conversation by Tanner clearing his throat. "Uh, ma'am?"
Sighing, M rolled her eyes while Carmon ducked back into her cubicle get dressed herself, "Yes Tanner?"
"Bond's on his way back."
M found herself unable to really focus on her work for the rest of the day. Bond was on his way back with the man responsible for all the destruction and death around her, she should be over the moon from that, but she wasn't. Something wasn't sitting right with her. 'Why did he give up so easily?' She thought, absentmindedly looking at the teen seated on the table. 'What?' Shaking her head, she focused on her with a frown.
"Carmon." She called, making sure not to let any emotion slip into her voice.
Looking up from her book, she hummed, "Hmm?"
"Why are you sitting on the table?"
Carmon tilted her head to the side, her long hair slipping easily over her shoulder as she considered her answer, "So you can't look over my shoulder and see what I'm doing."
Narrowing her eyes, M glanced at the now closed book resting in her lap, "And what exactly, were you doing?" She asked slowly.
Smiling, Carmon packed her book and pens away, "Nothing." She chimed innocently, standing up, "I'm going to get something to eat. Want anything?"
Eyeing the teen, she slowly shook her head.
"Okay then." She beamed, slipping her bag over her shoulder, "Be back soon."
M watched her go. Since that morning, she had relaxed, for lack of better word, around her. It was as though she had finally broken through the wall the teen had put up, if only she knew what it was that she had done. Sighing, she ran her hand through her white locks and turned back to her computer. It was time to work.
Looking at the woman who was focused on her computer screen through the glass of the door, Carmon took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Entering the office, the silver traveling mug she held in her hand was quickly placed on the desk in front of the busy woman as she walked passed.
"What's this?" M asked, glancing at the cup.
"Coffee."
Immediately she snatched up the mug and brought it to her lips, "Thank you dear."
"You're welcome." Carmon said, dropping into the corner of the sofa with her bag beside her.
"I was beginning to think you'd wondered off with how long you-"
Carmon flinched at the abrupt ending, knowing she had finally looked up from whatever she was doing. Slowly turning around, she forced a smile at the frozen woman. Self-consciously, she pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and started fiddling with it. "Like it?"
Eyeing the now dark brown hair critically, M held back the smile that wanted to break free at the sight of the anxious teen, "Your father won't." She said, leaning back in her chair.
For a moment, Carmon stopped fiddling nervously with her newly dyed hair and looked at M. If she was honest with herself, her father's reaction wouldn't bother her much, but this woman's opinion mattered to her. Of course, she was a Bond, so she wasn't honest with herself. Forcing a smile, she dropped her hair and sat up straighter, trying to appear confident and unconcerned.
"Good."
Arching her eyebrow slightly in amusement, M sat back up and turned back to her work. From the corner of her eye, she saw Carmon sigh, her shoulders dropping, and turn back to face the wall. Smiling, she reached out for her mug of coffee, "It suits you."
