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Bond was sitting in the interrogation room, ignoring the man that was circling around the table. The police station was a small, concrete building, cold inside. The interrogator continued to pace around the table in the centre of the room.

"You were in a restricted area. You had an incredibly amount of weaponry on your personas well as in your vehicle. A policeman's body was in the alleyway you'd just left. And you claim you had no intentions against our government. Can't you see why this is difficult to believe?" Bond just smirked at that.

"It would be in your best interest to let me go. Trust me." He'd have left hours ago, if not for the fact that he was handcuffed.

"No. You have no identification, passport, drivers license, or otherwise." Bond looked up at him.

"We already sent out for that. Are you this impatient?" He smiled slyly. The man crossed his arms over his chest and glared. Bond sighed, leaning back in his seat. He'd been off his game, that was why the local police had dragged him in. No identification, an alarming amount of weapons, and he was being interrogated. He blamed Amherst, at least indirectly. Usually, Bond found it fairly effortless to work under the local police station's radar; he operated well under said radar. Unless, of course, he was as distracted as he was now.

Meanwhile, a cop was on the phone to the office, whose number Bond had given them with the utmost reluctance. "Will you come and give verification that he's authorized?" the cop asked the woman on the phone.

"Who is it?"

"He wouldn't give his name. Said he didn't have identification, anyways." A sigh followed this.

"Is he blonde? And… just a moment" he heard the woman put her hand partially over the receiver, and call out, "Villiers, how would you describe Bond?" the answer came, and with a definite snicker to her tone, she repeated it, "And is he cocky, infuriating, and impossible to get information out of?"

"Sounds just like him."

"I'll have someone on the next flight over." The call was disconnected. The cop reported this to the interrogator, who sighed and opened the door to the interrogation room.

"Looks like you're going to be in here for a while." He called out to Bond. Bond shrugged a shoulder.

"Fine by me."

A few hours passed, filled with conversations that infuriated the interrogator with their lack of information.

"Monsieur Derton" A cop opened the door and poked his head into the room. "The representative is here."

"Representative?" Bond asked, too much of a mocking note in his tone to miss arousing suspicion. Derton narrowed his eyes at Bond.

"Don't move." He looked back to the cop, "And?"

"The rep wants to talk to him." Derton shrugged at this and left the room. Bond sighed, waiting to see who was to lecture him. Amherst walked into the room. James hung his head, biting his lip. Anyone but him. I could have dealt with anyone else, he thought, almost angrily, and M damn well knows that.

"Didn't expect to see you here." He finally spoke. Amherst came over, one hand on the tabletop, watching Bond intently. Bond could tell Amherst resented being sent over to retrieve him, he looked both tired and thoroughly irritated.

"Someone had to come bail you out of jail. Seems your lack of cooperation has gotten you into trouble yet again." His tone was as steeled as that of the interrogator.

"I-"

"Or maybe it was your inability to give them any of the information about you that they wanted." Bond glanced up at Amherst momentarily. The aid appeared unaffected, but underlying his tone was a constant foundation of anger and pain.

"They didn't ask nicely."

"They shouldn't have had to ask." Amherst's steeled gaze didn't lift.

"They didn't deserve that information."

"Maybe not" Amherst was glaring at him. "But I'm sure it would have helped your cause a great deal if you'd told them anything at all."

In the other room, the cop and interrogator were watching the exchange with confusion. The double talk was lost on them, making it that much more perplexing. "You interrogate him, and he says nothing" the cop said, frowning. "And this man's beaten him into submission in a matter of seconds."

"Shhh."

Meanwhile, Amherst was still staring down James. "Couldn't you have just cooperated in the first place, so we didn't have to go through this whole ordeal?" He sighed heavily, turning away. Bond got up, with only a little trouble due to the fact that his hands were handcuffed before him.

"I'm sorry." James said it with too much of a heartfelt desperation for it to have been directed towards the present situation. Amherst didn't look at him. "I've… I've missed you. That's what's gotten me into this mess. I can't think about anything but you…" he drew in an unstable breath. "I'd say I want you back, but I suppose I never had you in the first place, did I?" Bond lifted his head, watching Amherst. "I want to be serious. I'm willing to risk it. And I don't want anyone else." Amherst smiled.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Sounds like you weren't expecting me to." Bond ventured a guess. Amherst shrugged a shoulder.

"I had faith in you. Most days."

Bond went over, putting his arms around Amherst's neck and kissing him deeply.

"Only you would." He purred, kissing the aid again, the chain of his handcuffs cool on the back of Amherst's neck. "You're by far my favourite saviour"

"You've had others?" Amherst inquired, amused. Bond shook his head.

"No. But if I did, I swear you'd be the best out of all of them."

Before leaving for England again, Bond made Amherst stop at a restaurant, explaining only that the lead was meant to be there and that he really only needed a minute to talk to the lead. Amherst hesitated due to M's threat to have Bond home on the soonest possible plane back, and eventually relented.

"Great. Come on." Bond opened the car door, walking over to the sidewalk. Amherst followed slowly.

"Why?"

"You're helping." Bond had already set off for the restaurant. Amherst trailed along behind, reluctance written on his face.

"I'm not supposed to get involved..." Bond barely heard him, opening the door for him and then following. "Training rules..."

"I trust you." James said, with a small smile, "And I need you to seat him in a corner of the restaurant so I can talk to him. Please?" Amherst sighed.

"Fine." He sidled behind the front counter. And as he walked back from leading the man to the proper table, Bond slid by him, and with the grace of a pickpocket, had slipped a folded paper in his pocket and then disappeared from sight.

Meet me after this is over. I want to treat the most handsome waiter here to dinner.

*

M lectured at Bond for the better part of an hour, although it was clear that most of it went right over his head. The only thing he retained from the entire lecture was that she was in no mood to be annoyed, so he slipped out as soon as possible.

"Hello." Bond closed the door to M's office behind him. Amherst looked up from the computer, which he was shutting down, and gave Bond an amused look.

"You need a ride to your apartment, I presume?"

"I don't really want to ask for a car." Bond admitted, the extent of his confessions as to what had occurred in the office. "Besides, I'm leaving for Scotland in a day, I hardly need it." Amherst collected his things and led Bond to the car park, for the most part in shared silence.

"Why'd you drive today?" Bond asked as Amherst unlocked the car.

"Had to bring a box of empty files and didn't want to carry it."

"Ah." Bond opened the passenger side door and got in, trying to organize his thoughts and failing. The thought of his own apartment was far less than appealing, but try as he might, he couldn't, not without hearing M's words in his mind, relentlessly echoing.

"So?" Amherst was saying, as he closed his own door. Bond looked over.

"Sorry, what?"

"Stay with me tonight. Your apartment depresses even me."

"Hell, I'm never going back there alone." Bond agreed instantly. Amherst arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Bond noticed this only after a short while, as Amherst searched for the car keys. "What?"

"Nothing." Amherst had found the keys and turned the car on, pulling out of the car park.

"What were you thinking?"

"I just… nothing. It was nothing."

"Liar." A small smile.

"I was just… after I left, my sister called me, and we were talking about… what you were probably doing, right then."

"And?" Bond pressed. Amherst avoided the blue eyes, taking a keen interest in the road instead.

"It doesn't matter."

"Sure it doesn't." Bond watched him, and the reluctance told him exactly what Amherst had thought. "You thought I was with someone else." There was something else beside the scoff in his voice that made Amherst wonder. "No."

"Ah." He said nothing more, aware that Bond knew the question hovering there. The fact that he wasn't answering said a lot. "So, if not, then you were…?" he prompted. There was a prolonged silence that Bond dragged out as long as possible.

"Crying and not sleeping."

"You act as if-" you love me, and you're ashamed of crying about it, Amherst wouldn't voice half the sentence the sentence, "you're ashamed of it."

"Forgive me for being myself, but I'm not used to it." James said, something of a chill to his words. "And it certainly doesn't strike me as the most admirable response." Amherst shrugged a shoulder.

"Perhaps not to you."

"You think otherwise?" This was meant to be offhanded and distant, but instead sounded almost hopeful. Amherst hid a smile.

"I might."

"Even so," Bond shifted his attention to the window, "I hope you won't make a habit of causing it."

"I'll try not to."

"Hm." An irritated tone. "Very comforting promise."

"What would you like me to say?"

"Something along the lines of promising you won't-" he broke off.

"make you cry." Amherst finished. Bond almost, almost blushed.

"Yes. Promise you won't make me cry anymore." James said softly. Amherst glanced over at him, James's look asking him to vow that he wouldn't do the one thing he'd thought no one would ever have to swear to avoid. It had seemed impossible that 007 had such emotions. Amherst was glad he did, even as James seemed to hate that he did indeed have emotions and have not a clue about how to deal with them.

"I promise."

*

Bond was usually detached and professional when it came to the assignments he was given. Death was something he'd come to accept, and accordingly distance himself from emotionally. Lives were compromised regularly, and he just had to be grateful it wasn't his own and move on. But every agent had a weakness. Bond wasn't the type to submit to it, but his emotions took a bashing he had to sort out later.

As Bond left M's office, Amherst could see that something had been different. He'd just returned from some assignment, and looked unusually weary, and strangely detached. He had given M the report of the mission he'd been on, and rarely did he look so defeated.

"James" Amherst said softly, when Bond went to leave the room without so much as a word in his direction, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine." The normally confident voice was quiet, snappish. He closed the door behind him without so much as a backward glance. Amherst hesitated a moment.

"M, could I go home now? It's ten minutes to eight." He called out, received permission to do so.

"-and if you see Bond on the way out, remind him he has a vacation tomorrow, because he left before I could tell him." M replied.

"Sure. Bye" Amherst called out, and then bolted from the room. Amherst cut through the reception office, spent a few seconds pressing the elevator button, then ran down the stairwell, hoping the entire time that he'd be able to catch James. Bond didn't show emotions often, seeming him on the verge of a breakdown was unheard of. Amherst ran out of the building, saw James halfway down the block.

"James!" James turned towards him, and the look of desolation on his face was almost too much. "Going to your apartment?" Amherst asked. Bond nodded, deathly silent. "Want to come home with me instead?"

The look of gratitude on James's face was so absolute that Amherst was glad he'd chosen not to believe that James was fine, and dreaded to think of what would have happened if he had. Nothing that would scar, he knew, but it hurt to think of James being alone in the state he was in.

Later, nearing midnight, Amherst was gazing at the window, barely lit by the meagre moonlight, lying in bed and wondering when James would come over. He was currently wandering around the loft-like apartment, restless and silent, with the weak excuse of jet lag. It was a lie, they both knew it. He'd gone to Scotland for two days.

"James" Amherst called out softly. "It's almost midnight." James didn't reply, just wandered into the room, pulling off his shirt before climbing into bed next to Amherst. He moved close, resting his head on Amherst's shoulder.

"I can't sleep." He mumbled against Amherst's neck. "I just… can't sleep…"

"What happened?" the warm weight against him was comforting, and it felt like he was next to a heater. As usual, James's warmth did nothing to benefit 007 himself, and he clung tighter to Amherst. This close, his quivering breaths were obvious, as if fighting the threat of tears. Amherst slipped his arm around James, and the warmth kept him from being deceived into believing that Bond was emotionlessly cold inside.

"I…" James drew in a shaky breath, and Amherst almost didn't want to know what had happened, "There were…" he tried to say, but his words became lost in quiet tears. A soft, almost inaudible whimper from the intensity of the emotional anguish followed. For a few long unbearably minutes he was unable to speak. "Innocent people were killed" James eventually managed to whisper, "so many… and…and… there were children. They were so young, so, so young…" His ragged breaths were the only sound in the room, tears hot where they fell to Amherst's neck.

Part of Amherst's mind whimpered that he didn't want to get involved with a Double-O, didn't want to deal with the crippling apathy and sudden deterioration into grief, didn't want to help put the world back together after it fell apart again.

But then James broke down sobbing and the thought was forever gone. I didn't have to get involved tonight, Amherst thought vaguely, reaching his other arm over to complete his embrace of James, who curled up against him with a strangled moan of something far too close to agony for either's comfort, I could have let him go.

But to let him go once tonight would be letting him go forever. Amherst already feared he'd be forced to do that someday, he didn't want to do that now. Not thinking of that day, Amherst kissed the top of James's head, listening to his sobs and wondering if apathy wasn't nothing more than an abstract ideal.

*

The next morning, rain was pounding at the windows to a relentless tune. Amherst got out of bed, shooting a glare at his alarm clock, blaming it for how he'd forgotten to set it again. He had an hour to get to work, and to figure out how to make it appear as if Bond hadn't stayed the night, because arriving at the same time was sure to arouse suspicion. At least he's asleep, Amherst thought, looking down at him. James had eventually cried himself to sleep, hold on Amherst never loosening, and the entire ordeal was enough to break his heart. Amherst pulled the blankets back up to James's shoulders and left the room.

James didn't particularly like waking up and finding Amherst gone, but he could hear him moving about in the next room, and that was comforting. James couldn't yet find the will to get up, staying sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He always dreaded the inevitable, recurring crush of guilt and regret; his old solution was to attempt to forget by way of getting drunk. This, though, didn't hurt so much in the morning. The worst part of his job was unavoidable, but he felt able to live with himself at the moment, even though he didn't have himself to thank for that.

He glanced up at the sound of footsteps, as Amherst came into the room. His hair was still wet from his shower, shirt and tie undone. "You're awake" He paused to kiss James, continuing to get ready. James was silently thankful that Amherst wasn't mentioning anything from the previous night as he collected his watch, wallet and keys from the dresser. "I have to go, or I'll be late" James groaned at that.

"Then I'm late, too."

"You've got a day off." Amherst glanced at him in the mirror, then away.

"Oh…" James trailed off, thoughts working back to the inevitable solitude, and the setting that would worsen it. His own apartment was worse than a hotel room, because it was intended to be a home, and so plainly wasn't.

"Will you be here when I get home?" Amherst asked mildly, frowning down at his tie and his inability to knot it properly. James almost couldn't speak. He's so… he couldn't finish the thought, watching Amherst in the mirror, I've never been this lucky.

"Can I be?" he asked softly.

"I'd like that." James saw Amherst's gentle smile, and wondered how he'd finally, after all his life, gotten truly lucky. I've never had a saviour before, he thought, watching Amherst, and I almost walked away from him...

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love, wild-sunshine