After Skyfall

Apparently the protocol for dealing with a completely illegal mission by MI6 on British soil requires a lot of paperwork through the 'right channels', bureaucracy at its finest and of course a strictly official way of action which includes an enforced holiday for one of her Majesty's agents. And while James Bond has to stay at home and out of trouble, his new Quartermaster is apparently too important to also be suspended. His only punishment seems to be being interviewed by more or less every MI5 agent in the country.

At least this is what he is complaining about when Bond receives finally his medical evaluation (which he passes without any interference from anybody else) and meets the Quartermaster in the elevator. Listening to Q's entertaining description of MI5's idiocy is the highlight in those long weeks since M's death. And the longer the investigation of the events lasts the more Bond is inclined to believe that Q has been entirely too nice in his diatribe.

It had also been a pleasant surprise to learn that Mallory had his back during the hearing and the interrogation but unfortunately, the man didn't want to offend his authorities as M's successor by bringing Bond back to active duty as one of his first official acts and without official clearance from MI5. But Bond aches to return, he needs it.

In more ways than one.

Even if nobody would believe it (especially those doctors trying to evaluate his psyche) he knows that it isn't in his best interests to be on his own for too long with only the demons and ghosts of his past waiting to raise their ghastly heads. And with the destruction of his childhood home and the death of M on his hand those ghosts have recently gotten a hell of an addition. As impressive as M had been alive, Bond is pretty sure she could give his other memories a run for their money.

Usually he would drown those voices from the past in vast amounts of alcohol, but lately he has lost the taste for it. The first burn in his throat – once the beginning of a long (or not so long) affair with a bottle – is now almost choking him. Raising his second glass almost always brings back M's mocking voice: 'Ran out of drink where you were, did they?' Oh yes, a hell of a ghost.

His other coping method of anonymous sex also doesn't work. All those women lost their uniqueness to him, became simply bodies and he couldn't even pretend enough interest in them to get them to next available bed. Even worse, he isn't even interested in getting them in the next available bed. And the same goes for the men. Beautiful bodies, sculptured and perfectly groomed from head to toe, but they all seem bland. Too willing, to superficial, too available.

He had never thought that one day he would end like this.

The other reason is simpler, more straightforward. He needs to get back in the field just to know that he is still be able to do his job. That he is still a Double-0-agent.

Otherwise where would he be? What would he do?

Retirement?

He wouldn't even know what to do with his time.

A desk job? Following rules after being a free agent for so long?

This is usually the point where he deliberately stops himself thinking. Not willing to go further, just reassuring himself that the only thing keeping him in London right now is the missing clearance from MI5.

So he keeps himself occupied. Working out, keeping in touch with his contacts, getting his stuff out of storage.

With the money MI6 had gotten for his apartment after his 'death', he buys a new flat. Which he decorates for the first time in his life after his own taste and doesn't use the furniture that comes along with the four walls and the roof.

Thanks to the slow progress of MI5, he has already cleared most of his storage, leaving only a few boxes behind that he had gotten from Skyfall, back then when he had just joined the Royal Navy and thought he could bring some form of home in his shabby rooms. Instead, he had never gotten around to unpacking them and eventually put them in storage.

Maybe it would be a good idea to get rid of them immediately without looking through their contents. If they stayed closed for all those years what would he miss if he didn't open them now? After all, Skyfall was gone – in more ways than just the obvious – and had been for a long time. To be honest MI6 had done him a favour selling it. He would never have done it. Cutting the last ties to his parents, obliging the family tradition. The latter is probably the reason why he can't simply throw those boxes away. His decision to go through them may be his last farewell to Andrew and Monique Bond. As expected most of the stuff is pretty useless to him right now. He keeps some of the pictures, some of the old books, but the boxes are more or less as heavy as before.

It's the last box that stops him in his tracks. Underneath an old blanket he discovers an old trunk, looking way more ancient than all the other stuff that has gone through his hands in the last days. And although it was literally decades ago, he suddenly is back in Skyfall's attic, the wind is storming against unyielding walls which are groaning against nature's forces. He remembers the dim light, barely illuminating the room enough to move around it without any accident. And he remembers the soft click as he succeeded in picking the lock of the trunk.

Almost reverently he takes the trunk out of its box, wiping a layer of dust from the surface. The light in his new apartment is way better than it had been in the attic and he recognises all the signs of old age in the trunk. The slightly broken leather on the surface, the darkened metal ornaments. He is not an expert for antiques, but as a spy it is extremely useful to have a vast knowledge of all kinds of topics and he knows enough to safely assume that this trunk is probably more than two hundred years old.

Hesitantly, he tries the lock just as he had done as boy, only half wondering where he has left his set of lock picks. But he is almost startled to find that the lid opens easily. He recognises the first layer of tissue paper and its smell of age with the hint of lavender. Much more carefully than back then, he takes it out. And underneath is the doll, looking up at him as if it is asking where he has been all the time. James is tempted to apologise, but instead just picks it up. Again he is startled by the sudden click indicating the movement of the eyelids, but he can't help but smile. The doll is carrying its glasses in its right hand and James takes them and puts them back on its nose.

Now he is old enough to register the carefully modelled face, the craftsmanship behind the making of this doll. He takes one of the hands and despite thinking of himself as a cynic, he finds himself softly caressing over the tiny fingers, looking almost real and only the touch actually giving away their artificial nature. When he looks back at the dolls face he is astonished how oddly alive those eyes look for a lifeless being. He remembers that even as a child this doll seemed to have a life of its own, but right now it startles him that those eyes really seem to look at him, judging him. Oddly enough it reminds him of Q, of their initial meeting, the assessing, the judging. Come to think of it, the doll looks like a mini-version of Q with its dark-framed glasses, the old-fashioned cardigan and not to forget the unruly curls on its little head.

The thought of having a mini-Q at his home amuses him to no end and he would almost swear that the doll is smirking right back at him.

"What am I going to do with you now? I probably can't take you with me on my next mission, although you'd be a delightful companion."

He shakes the head over himself at talking to a doll, but he nevertheless places it very carefully on one of his book shelves. While he checks the rest of the box he glances every so often at his mini-Q. It is oddly reassuring having it here, among those things he had bought for himself, a memory of Skyfall. And it does not only bring back the memory of one afternoon, but of others he had spent there, enjoying his childhood home before all went to hell with the accident that killed his parents.