00

Fresh from their shower and having redressed the bandages, Silva tossed aside the roll of gauze and crawled over the form of his naked lover laying prone across their bed.

Trailing teasing, feather-light kisses down his sternum, Bond shivered against him as the blonde licked a lazy path around his navel; his small needy noises

going straight to Silva's cock.

"Tell me what you want, my dear."

"You bloody well know what I want," the Agent glared, his cock leaking where it throbbed against the tense muscles of his abdomen.

"Tell me whose mouth you want to have suck you down and drain you dry, meu querido, whose name will you shout as you're pleasured to the breaking point before being tipped over the edge to your shattering petite mort?" Silva commanded as he vindictively licked a wet stripe down to those blonde curls at the base of his lover's cock purposefully avoiding the straining erection itself.

Bond swallowed thickly, gripping the sheets as he felt those full tantalizing lips hover over him.

"Tell me who you are fucking, James."

"Oh, sod off you overjealous prick" Bond spat from beneath the punitive blonde, "It's pretty apparent you're the only one in bed with me at the moment."

"At the 'moment'," Silva sneered blackly.

The Agent's over-boiling irritation momentarily overshadowed his pressing urge for release and he bolted upright, forcibly shoving his companion backward.

Firmly gripping the man's broad, muscular shoulders he looked him squarely in the eye, "Are you really that daft? Does it look to you like I've had any time to be philandering about searching for some new conquest?"

Silva dryly returned his companion's leveling look of scrutiny.

"Hold up," Bond demanded suspiciously, his arousal subsiding against budding indignation, "Why should I justify myself? Just what exactly do you think this is we're doing here?"

"Oh, James, you want to label it? How sentimental of you." the blonde retorted teasingly. "I thought you were above all that, huh?"

The agent regarded his companion with a twisting discomfort as he registered the subtext within man's acerbic remark.

"Alright," The Agent said, retreating coolly, "I see."

"Do you?" the blonde countered furrowing his brow, "Because I have cause to doubt that."

Pulling a frustrated hand through his disheveled locks he peered sharply at his companion, his eyes glittering challengingly.

"I'm a selfish man James," Silva informed pointedly, "I refuse to share."

Shifting back, Bond hesitated in consideration, never dropping his eyes from the other man's steady trained gaze.

"I refuse to share you," the blonde specified meaningfully.

His companion stared at him unresponsively and the moment stretched unbearably- far beyond Silva's limits of considerable patience.

"Ever," he sincerely admitted with crisp disarming finality.

The Agent's heart clenched in his throat, at the burgeoning realization that he'd somehow, inadvertently gotten himself into an unarguably exclusive and quite serious, nameless relationship with this clever, damaged and damaging man.

And yet, for reasons he could not immediately identify, his anxiety dissipated and with resolve he decided that none of it mattered one whit.

In for a penny out for a pound: Bond impulsively lunged forward, capturing his companion's mouth against his own in a demanding, passionate kiss.

Silva responded with immediate, gratified exuberance, scrambling for purchase and pulling his lover's form flush against his own. Drawing his calloused hands up the sinewy strength of the man's smooth-skinned back he shuddered a throaty sigh, arousal coursing through him.

"Sim, meu James."

The blonde groaned and rolled his hips forward, trapping his swelling cock against the other man's as they explored each other with hungry desperation.

Without care for his sutures, the Agent forcefully rolled them over and pressed down upon his lover, clutching into the roped muscle of the blonde's hips with bruising possession before owning the man wholly in a crashing collision of tongues and clashing teeth.

Matching rhythm, they writhed and bucked frantically against each other with one single unified purpose, flesh smacking against flesh and Silva pressed upward; his eyes shuttering as he moaned at the glorious sensation caused by the hot friction of their swollen cocks sliding, crushed against each other leaking a clear slippery lubricant between them.

"Sim, sim meu querido," Silva grunted, "Mine, always, mine."

Humping frantically downward, riding against his lover with wild abandon; the ridges of their slick, throbbing cock heads rubbing back and forth together, Bond grunted, shaking apart as sparks of white hot pleasure shot through him.

Mouth clamping down into the straining tendons of his lover's neck, the Agent reached release, spurting thick, hot white cords across the blonde's chest and stomach. Gasping breathlessly, overcome by the erotic sight of his lover breaking to pieces in pleasure above him, Silva's eyes shut tightly closed as he arched upward shuddering his climax in response.

Collapsing spent beside his companion, his stitches punishing him with sharp twinges from the incurred abuse, Bond grimaced.

"Now I'm really going to be stuck in bed."

Silva rolled over and regarded his gloriously debauched companion with warm affection, stroking a hand across the stubble against his still flushed cheek, "Stay here and don't you move a single finger, meu querido, let me get us something to clean up with, hmm?"

Bond watched his naked lover from where he lay as the man stood in the bathroom, door ajar while holding a folded wash cloth beneath a steaming stream from the sink faucet

"You're rather quiet," the blonde remarked, toweling himself off in the doorway.

"Just thinking."

"Hmm," Silva mused, crawling back into the bed alongside him, "Anything you care to share?"

The Agent closed his eyes, allowing his lover to wipe him clean of the remainder of their activities; the warmth of the cloth and Silva's dextrous, massaging hands both calming and reassuring.

"Not particularly, no."

Playfully, Silva flicked the nub of his nipple causing him to jerk, cracking one eye he frowned, batting the teasing hand away.

"You're so full of secrets," the blonde complained, "you never tell me anything."

"Shut up and come to bed will you? Such a bloody chatter-box," the Agent sighed grabbing the man's wrist and tugging him down to lay beside him.

"Boa noite e sonhos doces, James," Silva whispered softly against the back of his lover's shoulder, wrapping an arm securely around him as he tucked in, spooning him from behind.

"Hm...yes. You too." Bond replied, almost inaudibly in response, though for the first time in years, he felt truly wide awake.

00

"I don't like this at all, Nadimah."

Beneath the dim glow of the moonlight in a small, yet luxurious condo set within the hills of Santorini upon an embankment overlooking Athinios Bay, Nadimah concluded her reprisal of the situation that had occurred within Soúroupo to her Boss, explaining the breach in their security system and clutching her drink nervously as he stalked irately to their bar to pour himself a full glass of E&J's.

The short, dark skinned man clad in a sleek, deep navy suit could have been a spitting image of Nadimah; her male doppleganger.

So similar, and so different: two sides of one coin: the chaos to her control. As the only children of an affluent, influentially relevant family within the Pakistani political sphere, Nadimah's entire insular world circuitously revolved around her fraternal twin: Naadir had always protected her, taught her and indulged her, and thus she was absolutely dependent and devoted to him; no other individual on earth could replace the utter supremacy of his position within her heart.

A rebel faction had attacked the Majilis-e-Shoora and executed the remainder of their supporters as well as the parliament's surviving family members.

She'd been in school in America when she'd received the news and her whole world had shifted to a single new purpose: destroy those whom had wrought destruction down on her,

Maneuvering her way into the CIA, she'd thought she'd found a means and was sorely disappointed by their lack of interest. The terrorist cell escaped into the fold of the underworld and Nadimah was bitter.

On assignment in Croatia, while investigating a small contingency of technologically savvy insurgents she came across the mastermind carefully cloaked in the center of the web, finding him to be the very last man she'd ever hoped to see again.

Reunited, her fractured soul was healed and she stayed.

Naadir's path had led him similarly to seek revenge, though through means beneath the law as he'd allied with a group that promised him justice; employing his skills in return for their aide.

Herded as sheep to shepherd, swayed by his logic and masterful charismatic influence, she joined him once more, and without a last, single glance behind, together they vanished.

Their employers had provided as promised securing their loyalty and Naadir, hungry to reestablish their lost wealth and lured by the satisfying fulfillment of power, clung to his position, possessed by singular, fundamentalist intensity.

"This does not bode well for me, for us," Naadir amended as he downed his drink with shaking hands.

Nadimah worried her lip, sitting forward anxiously in her seat as she watched her twin pace across the room before her; radiating impassioned fury.

"He has already taken out several of my own operations and infiltrated, replacing them with men from his own. He seeks to take over," Naadir concluded angrily, "That man is a danger to us both Nadimah, my piyaara behn, surely you recognize the inherent danger we are in?"

Regarding her brother with due respect, she bowed her head, "I can. Which is why I sought you immediately, bhai."

"If upstairs sees how effective Silva is, how profitable it could be working alongside such a powerhouse, they won't have use for us," Naadir spat, "And if we are of no use, we will be eliminated."

Nadimah narrowed her eyes, "I don't think my position is in jeopardy- they still would need a paymaster to manage their accounts, you could convince them that you could work with me, or under Silva temporarily, and failing that I-I would find a way to protect you."

"I don't want your protection, you feeble-minded cow!" Naadir roared with spitting rage, "I need to ensure my security. After everything I've worked for, I will not be taken down by some enterprising, slithering snake usurping himself into my hard-earned position."

"Silva informed me that he is not seeking permanent employment within the organization, his desire is to take them on as 'clients' to fulfill some vague ambition or another."

"So he claims! He has too much clout- he puts much on the table, and if you don't think they won't be greedy to ally with such a powerful satellite organization then you are mistaken. They're sure to make him an offer or two I'm sure he won't be able to refuse... Besides," Naadir countered circling in on his sister, "Do you not think, qeemti bhen, that once that serpent is installed he won't appoint his own associates into your place for his convenience? He's done so already at every turn and Upstairs won't blink. Their loyalty to us extends as far as our use to them. This could potentially ruin everything I've worked so hard for. Everything I've done to take care of us, of you, in honour of our family's name!"

Naadir dragged a hand roughly through his slicked-back black hair and glared at his sister, "And however much you've attempted to insinuate yourself into the good graces of his companion, from how it sounds, you didn't particularly win any prizes with Raoul Silva, himself."

"He seemed extraordinarily possessive of the man," Nadimah intoned pointedly, "It's not my fault his partner flirted so openly with me."

"You certainly played on that, didn't you, which may work to our advantage," Naadir mused.

"I imagined it might."

"The man- that ex MI-6 agent, he could be of value to our organization with his knowledge of the inner workings of the SIS. He'd definitely be an asset. He could be our asset. Put us back into their good graces," he sighed, "The head-honchos aren't particularly pleased with me over Jakov and Corsenza- and if they find out about Glasgow, or Allah-forbid what went down at Soúroupo, heads will roll. Our heads. But if we can hand-deliver Bond in a tidy little package at their front door..."

Nadimah shook her head in disagreement, "But Bond is Silva's associate-"

"Somehow we must find a way to sever their connection and deliver Bond with his tacit agreement to suppress knowledge of Silva's existence." "Raoul Silva poses an incredible threat to us and he must be removed from the equation."

"What do you propose? They appear to be loyal to each other. Bond is his partner he works directly alongside, if we take Silva out, I can't imagine Bond would be pleased, so how can we ensure his willing compliance?"

"Win his trust, secure his loyalty to you. To us. Seduce him if you have to. Plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Convince him Silva's not to be trusted. You're clever, I'm sure you can figure out someway to do so."

"Say he buys the deception. Then what?"

"I'll take care of the rest."

"You'll personally have Raoul Silva assassinated," Nadimah voiced with skepticism.

"You lure Bond away. I'll keep Silva distracted and then I'll take him down myself. I want no one else to be party to any of this."

"What of Silva's installed operatives?"

"I'll pay them to work for me and flush out the ones that can't be trusted," Naadir grinned with a malevolent glint sparkling in his dark eyes, "String them along for a bit. Pretend you're unsure of their qualifications or that they need to gain your trust before you work on their behalf to arrange for them to meet the boys. You do your part, and I'll do mine, mayra ishq.""

Nadimah concealed her doubt, smiling in concordance with her brother's plans; her heart sinking as she recognized how vague Naadir's plan seemed to be. But she would defer to his judgement as always, because at the end of all things, he was her first and last love, and she trusted him wholly; always.

00

Silva stirred awake to find his yet sleeping companion stretched along his side snoring softly through slightly parted lips. In the privacy lent by the quiet moment, he hardly dared to breathe as he let his eyes linger over his lover; the gentle rise and fall of his chest scattered with claiming bruises, the etched lines and tensed muscles of the man's face smoothed in repose. For once, the Agent seemed younger, relaxed and less rigid; it was humbling to Silva to think that he might have contributed in some small way to this.

Perhaps, he concluded, that Helena, (R.I.P), had been onto something after all.

Good god, the man was glorious. How could he not adore him?

Silva smirked as he perused the naked length of his lover's form before sighing quietly, "Ah, meu amor, what I would give to wake up like this cada manhã."

Carefully, he slid his numb arm out from beneath the dead weight of his companion yet lost in somnus. Shaking out his newly freed arm to get the blood flowing back through and flexing his fist until it tingled with that peculiar feeling of pins and needles reawakening at last, Silva arose from the bed.

"Is it that time already?"

Silva turned around, donning his robe and flashed a grin at his groggy companion, "Bom dia, meu querido, welcome back to the land of the living."

Regarding him with a small, contemplative, nearly microscopic smile Bond titled his head to the side questioningly, "No coffee?"

"I'm working on it. Very demanding, even first thing in the morning, aren't you."

The Agent grinned, amused, before patting the vacated bed beside him, "Come back here."

Silva raised an eyebrow.

"What for?"

"I want to talk about something that occurred to me last night."

"Ah, and here I thought you wanted me back for a kiss, tu entristeces-me."

"I never said I didn't," Bond quipped with a sly, seductive glint that did far more to surprise the blonde than it did to arouse him.

"Hmm, you are certainly in an improved mood, are you quite well?" Silva teased joining his companion back down on the bed, "Should I be worried, my dear?"

"Ha, bloody ha," Bond retorted leaning in to quickly peck his companion on the lips.

"Actually, how are you feeling this morning, James?" Silva inquired seriously, "How is your arm, and more importantly, that poor leg of yours?"

Bond shook his head impatiently, "Fine. I could use a pill or two, but I'm fine."

"So whatever is this you care to talk of?"

Kicking off the sheets, the Agent stretched with a loud yawn, shaking off the rest of his sleepiness.

"I've had a thought about our dinner date with Nadi this evening."

"Oh, her," Silva frowned narrowing his eyes, "Alright, what about the little ladra de homem?"

"Is that...did you just call her a 'man-thief'?" Bond demanded staring at his companion incredulously.

"More or less."

The Agent laughed for a good, long moment.

"So much insecurity," Bond drawled, "Cannot be healthy."

"Hardly. I know you're not going anywhere."

"So sure of that are you?"

Laughing, Silva lunged forward rolling atop his infuriating lover, trapping him to the bed beneath, "Very."

Pushing him off with exasperation, Bond climbed out from under the man and strolled over to the dresser, wrapping himself in his own robe.

"I was thinking it might be wise to find out as much as we can about her considering she's our only link to our 'boys upstairs'."

Silva lackadaisically sprawled across their bed. "Obviously."

"You pull up as much intel on her as you can this afternoon," The Agent continued as if uninterrupted, "And then, this evening after supper, I'll attempt to extract more details over a drink or two."

Silva glared at his companion with a petulant pout, "Solo?"

"I have the feeling she doesn't particularly care for you much."

"The feeling is more than mutual. The hussy. I don't appreciate the way she looks at you like you're some succulent piece de carne fresca."

"Ha," Bond snorted, "Because you don't."

"The difference here is, I senti o teu sabor, meu doce querido, and she would not have the first idea what to do with such rara delicia."

"You have a disturbing way of putting things," The Agent cringed, "Brings to mind that whole analogy you made once about 'eating' each other. Not particularly arousing imagery when you state it like that."

"You have a very banal imagination, James," Silva huffed, "Why do I even like you?"

Bond raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself before looking back up at his companion with a wry smirk.

"Ah, there's a selling point," the blonde chuckled.

"In any case, I think she might be more amenable without your glowering presence lurking suspiciously in her periphery."

"I do not 'lurk suspiciously'."

"No, I suppose you have too much panache for that. You fashionably hover with incertitude."

"I resent what you're implying. I'll have you know I made Double-Oh before you were barely out of Academy."

"You're not that much older than me."

"Exactly," Silva bragged, "Just far more talented."

Smiling dangerously, Bond stalked back over to the bed, straddling the blonde beneath him, "I'll show you talent."

"Meu deus, sim," Silva sighed, pleasure rolling through him as his lover pressed down upon his not uninterested groin, "Por favor faz, seu maravilhoso, wicked man, show me just what this talent is you speak of."

"Oh, I plan to," the Agent replied, shutting his lover up with a sound kiss.

It was a long while before it occurred to either to place the order for room-service.

00

As the afternoon wore on, the two men sat in their shared room. The Agent cracked his neck boredly flipping through the stations on the television while the blonde sat at the desk fully engrossed with whatever it was he was staring at on his computer, his expression continuing to darken as the hours progressed.

Bond shifted back in the low sofa, propping his foot up onto the ottoman with a slight wince, hissing quietly in discomfort.

"Not that I advocate your tendency to liberally abuse pain medication, but I do have some in my case," Silva offered from the other side of the room.

"Oxys'?"

"Codeine," the blonde replied, "I can't stomach the other stuff."

Rifling through his companion's bag, the Agent came across the bottle and downed the pills with a swig from an open bottle of Maker's Mark.

"Your poor abused liver." Silva drawled with a pitying look at his partner, "Sometimes I wonder how you ever pass your health examinations."

"I was blessed with the iron constitution of a true Scotsman."

"Yes, Braveheart, that seems rather apparent," the blonde laughed shaking his head before focusing back on the computer. Bond lay back once again in his chair, propping up his leg while awaiting the medication to take effect as he browsed the television guide to find something worth distracting himself with.

After a long while of spacing out on some rather banal documentary, the sharp pain in his leg having somewhat abated to a dull throb, the Agent was startled back into cognizance by Silva's small, irritable 'humph'.

"Still nothing?" Bond inquired with a measure of surprise as he peered at his companion whom had finally moved to settle upon the bed with the laptop perched upon a pillow in front of him.

Silva had the good sense to look shamed as he shook his head.

"There wasn't much to go on. I assume her name is short for Nadimah but there are millions of Nadimahs' and I can't seem to find anything of much interest in the CIA databases. We have a closed file on a missing Agent in Croatia and having hacked into that, either the CIA, the organization we are dealing with, or Nadi herself has very carefully managed to expunge any specifications from the files."

The blonde looked up, baffled by his partner's silence before frowning at the man's expression, "Don't pull that face at me."

"What face."

"That- whatever you're doing," Silva exclaimed, gesturing at the Agent with a disgruntled scowl.

Bond shook his head with bemusement, "I'm not doing anything, I think you're projecting your irritation, Mister Silva."

"I did come across something of some interest, Mister Bond."

"Do share," The Agent insisted, sitting forward.

"There was a rather incomplete attempt to terminate the records of 872346-A's case file, the one reported as MIA in Croatia that I believe roughly fits that story your girlfriend gave us in Soúroupos . I managed to recover a ghost imprint and processed it through my system. The scan of the fragmented deletion pieces together like an old psych eval," Silva mused, "there is something here about some rather tragic affair regarding the death of her family."

"That is all you have?" Bond sighed, "That's not very specific."

"Nor is it very unusual for an Agent, is it, hmm?"

"I recall M having stated once that orphan's make excellent recruits," the Agent remarked with a touch of nostalgia infused with overriding bitterness, "She had a valid point: No one to worry about or have worry after you... no one that a foe could potentially use as fodder against you."

Silva inhaled slowly as he observed the change in his companion's mood.

"I'm accustomed to you speaking of her with more deference in your tone."

"She was brilliant at her job. That did not make her any less of a bitch."

Bond stared at him challengingly, pointedly glancing down at the copious scarring dispersed across his companion's chest exposed by the man's opened shirt before his eyes fell away.

"You weren't the first, nor were you the last of her crimes."

Silva stared at his partner in open contemplation.

"Thought of this often have you?"

"The subject has crossed my mind more often of late."

"Perhaps you're playing into your role as 'rogue agent' with too much vigor," Silva remarked.

"Or perhaps I'm merely pointing out the facts." Bond retorted crisply, "What she did to you, to me, to Ronson, to others before us... she had one job, and she did it effectively; without apology for sacrifice. She also did it without consideration of consequence."

The Agent lowered his head into his hands, "I don't blame you for any of it. I would have done the same."

For a long while, the blonde peered at his companion before coming to a decision.

"Two years ago, James, had I but one single reason to live other than for hope of her remorse- I would not have done," Silva articulated carefully, "There is no satisfactory palliative for the damage within; the external violence that has been wrought, what good does it do us? Eye for an eye? We are numb, you and I, in the end, our training prevents it."

Bond stared at his companion with a confused frown, "How do you figure that?"

"Emotion... what is it Corsenza said? All just chemicals. Do we even feel so deeply or are all our reactions just superficial shadows of the real thing? Are they masks we wear to assimilate and relate and operate functionally among our fellows? That's what we are trained to think. That's what they tried to make us into; automatons. The perfect soldiers."

Silva watched the Agent; observing the dawning revelation as he processed his last statement.

"You see, James, the sweetest revenge was when I was in the greatest physical pain at the hands of my interrogators, I was thrust beyond the breaking point and I forgot my training. It forced me to remember that I was human. Just a man. I was so angry, so betrayed and filled with hatred, so despairing, so resentful, so many things- the specifics didn't matter. It was the fact that the emotion was there and it existed and had the potential to be a full spectrum of anything at all," the blonde expressed emphatically, "I burned with so much feeling, I felt everything so deeply, and it was a mercy. It was liberating."

Silva glanced back up at his companion meaningfully and paused, hesitating before coming to his conclusion.

"Had I one single reason as I do now to channel everything differently, I think I may have thanked her instead."

The Agent looked down at his hands clutched tightly at his knees and said nothing and Silva chuckled softly, setting aside his computer.

Rising from the bed he came beside the Agent, moving a chair across from him and sat down before the man.

"Oh, but you are so afraid of that, aren't you? It terrifies you...hmm?" Silva asked softly, reaching forward to caress the stern line of his companion's tense jaw, "All of this talk of emotion? Of sentiment? Passion? Dare I say... affection? You felt a glimmer of something once, did you not... for Vesper Lynd?"

Bond sucked in a breath at the sharp twinge in his chest.

"For one or two before her perhaps?" Silva pressed on, "Or do you block the memory of it as you think you ought?"

Still, the Agent trained his expression away from the piercing gaze of his companion, steeling himself against the invasive line of inquiry.

"You don't have to. Let it go, James. Strip yourself of the armour. Do yourself a kindness for once, and if nothing else, let yourself feel something."

Bond swallowed thickly as Silva peered at him intently.

"If not for me then for something. Anyone or anything is better than no one or nothing at all."

After a long moment of no reaction, Silva sighed wearily and stood up returning to the bed.

"There is one last thing that may be of some interest," Silva said at last, switching back from his tangent, "It occurred to me that post our meeting underground, we were quite conveniently supplied a face to our book-keeping friend, thus, I retrospectively considered it wise to take a peek back at their surveillance feeds I'd hacked yesterday. Lo and behold, I witnessed Nadi on several occasions passing through Soúroupo. Footage dated two nights prior, I witnessed our friend enter alongside a man bearing incredibly similar features."

Bond furrowed his brow, "Hadn't you just inferred that her family had been offed?"

Silva turned the laptop to point out the zoomed in image on the screen. Though the resolution was blurred, the Agent could see what his companion meant.

"I cannot, with absolute authority, resolutely claim this man is her kin..." Silva intoned trailing off, "But the resemblance is uncanny, no?"

"Mm," Bond replied thoughtfully.

"Tonight, James," the blonde decided, "After our supper, when it is just the two of you, try to find out what you can of him, yes? Ply her for whatever information you can get. Gain enough trust so that we may convince her to arrange for us a meeting. If you must, turn on that charm of yours."

Bond smirked, "That is an area I excel at."

Silva frowned as he appraised his companion, "Don't get carried away, hmm?"

To the blonde's chagrin, his companion shrugged noncommittally.

"Ends justify, right?"

"Sim, James," Silva sighed darkly, "Within reason."

A heavy silence fell between them as Bond regarded his companion's strange sullen expression. Compulsively, the Agent found himself reaching out to grab the man by his wrist and pulled him in, placing a brief kiss to the side of the blonde's frown.

"Within reason," he reassured, before the man tugged him down to the bed to lay alongside him.

00

Post supper, Silva had made up a vague, yet polite explanation to excuse himself, and Bond escorted his raven haired companion to the darkly-lit bar in the corner of the restaurant. Seating himself in a small secluded booth across from the paymaster, he smiled, toasting her.

"I would toast you to the beginning of a new era, but somehow I think you're still uncertain of me," Bond said, quirking a grin, "At the very least, I'll toast you to what I believe may be a potentially beautiful partnership, Nadi."

"Hm, we'll see," she replied noncommittally, clinking her glass with his own, "But in any case, I suppose I can appreciate the sentiment. Also... please call me Nadimah- I really cannot abide nicknames."

He raised an eyebrow, "It is all you provided."

"I didn't trust you not to snoop around for more information than I felt ready to divulge at the time."

"On that note-"

"Ha!" Nadimah interjected with a short laugh, sweeping her long, loose raven hair behind her neck, "I might have figured you two would try to pry into whatever you could go off of...what is it you think you know of me? Hm?"

The Agent looked down carefully considering his response.

"I don't wish to spoil the evening by bringing up old ghosts, but I must ask you..." he paused before looking back up, "What happened to your family?"

The woman narrowed her eyes.

"I thought I had done a pretty sufficient job deleting those files from the CIA database," she huffed, "But since you two are obviously so clever and already know, I suppose I'll explain. A band of violent insurgents attempted to lead a coup against the government in Islamabad when I was at University in the U.S. They killed my entire family."

Bond peered at her skeptically, "Your entire family?"

Nadimah gaped at her companion with an expression of dawning surprise, setting down her drink with a loud clink upon the table's surface.

"You do not believe me?" She demanded with an affronted tone, "No words of sympathy, huh, you just go in for the kill."

"I do not intend to offend you, and I do extend my condolences, however belated they may be, but what of your brother?" Bond inquired speculatively, "Is he not well?"

Piercing him with a scrutinizing, angry glare; twisting the beauty of her soft features, she leaned back in her seat, folding her arms defensively across her chest.

"You're guessing," she accused, "but yes. I do have a brother."

"It seems like a sore subject for you, I apologize."

Softening she seemed to come to a decision, "It is. Naadir is my twin, and I am thankful everyday that he survived... but he was never the same after. Looking after him was difficult, he was always so...sensitive. He works for me now within the organization. Very low-level of course in an administrative capacity- I barely imagine he knows what we are doing is not exactly legal."

"You sought vengeance against the terrorists, that's why you decided to join the CIA initially," Bond surmised, "I imagine they failed to apprehend them and you found yourself rather disappointed. Naturally this compelled you to join with the men you work for now."

"That's the short of it."

"They promised you they'd bring them down in return for your services?" The Agent supposed with a satisfied prescience, "And they delivered."

"Precisely."

Nadimah leaned forward sipping her drink before gazing back up at her companion curiously, "What compelled you, James, to work with Raoul Silva?"

Bond smirked as he considered the question, "I supposed if one is going to 'break bad' then one ought to do so in earnest."

The paymaster laughed, amused by the reference, "You're an interesting man, Mister Bond-"

"James, please."

"James- I would not have taken you for the sort to be up on the latest pop-culture. You seem more of a classical sort of fellow, to me."

"One finds a bit of time between missions to turn on the television once in awhile."

Nadimah grinned, delighted and intrigued, "What else do you like to do in your spare time, James?"

"Wouldn't you like to know..."

00

Apprising Naadir of the story she had improvised earlier in the evening, her brother agreed to introduce himself to the two men the following night over supper.

Naadir played his role easily, feeling satisfied in his assumption that both men were convinced and pleasantly offered to challenge Silva in a game of cards, allowing for Nadimah to entertain the Agent in the suite she had checked into earlier in the day.

Several drinks in, both companions were quite relaxed; their conversation flowing casually between them. Bond's aim to gain her trust and eventually ease into alluding once again to his request.

"Is that all this is about?" Nadimah huffed irritably, "I thought we were really making progress toward something else, darling."

"Of course, you know that is the reason we're here," Bond replied slyly, "But...it does not have to be the only reason."

Having finished replenishing their drinks at the wet bar, she sauntered over to reclaim her seat beside the Agent, regarding him warmly as she passed him his glass, "Then what is the other reason?"

"You tell me."

Nadimah smiled; lowering her eyes coquettishly before gazing back up at her companion.

"Do you think I'm attractive, James?"

"Yes."

"Sleep with me."

A long silence stretched between the two as Bond hesitated; not with discomfort or indecision, but with some small measure of regret as he attempted to calculate his response.

"Huh," Nadimah at last intoned, examining him coolly, "Silva wasn't lying- you two are involved... intimately."

She frowned at her companion's impassable, mute reserve.

"It's funny, because even if you weren't attracted to me- which I know you are to some degree, I'd think you'd bed me anyway- in some endeavor to secure a sense of intimacy between us that might convince me to arrange that meeting you so desire," She determined, "Yet, you're willing to subvert your immediate goals out of some sense of... what is it: fear or loyalty?"

"It's complicated."

"It's romantic," Nadimah argued, "Isn't it? On either your end or his... although I think it's probably more likely on his."

"You are either unwilling to risk needlessly endangering yourself by sleeping with me... or you're being respectfully considerate of his wishes," she intuited, leveling her companion with a pointed look.

When Bond refrained from response, Nadimah leaned forward and stroked a hand affectionately across his cheek, "Are you in love with him?"

The Agent's eyes widened at the woman's blunt question, "Are you really asking me that?"

She shrugged, drawing her hand away and replacing it into her lap.

"I dont particularly expect an honest response," Nadimah remarked with an amused little grin as she observed the Agent's ears redden with either cloying embarrassment or indignation; Or a combination of both she considered.

"I cannot dignify such a ridiculous question with an answer."

"Oh?" she laughed teasingly, "So you are then."

"I think I am quite done humouring you," Bond retorted disdainfully, downing the last of his drink.

"You don't deny it," Nadimah pointed out as she helpfully removed the glass from her companion's tight grip and set it beside her on the table.

Bond stared blankly for several seconds before inhaling deeply and closing his eyes defaulting to silence; much to his companion's interest. Crossing her legs demurely, Nadimah leaned back, slowly sipping her cocktail as she regarded him.

"Are you fucking?" She inquired in a brazen, disarming manner watching with subtle interest as her companion froze. "I assume you must be."

"You are an unusually straightforward woman," Bond remarked, exasperated, "If you must know, then yes- we 'fuck'."

"Hm," Nadimah peered at her companion knowingly, "Even so, at the risk of sounding terribly full of myself, you would bed me in an second. And we certainly could without letting your boyfriend in on it. I mean- I could certainly be discreet."

Bond smirked.

"It does make you sound terribly full of yourself, though I won't deny you are correct in this instance. I would be more than willing to take you to bed," the Agent informed with credence before leaning back to chuckle; sounding to Nadimah quite terribly amused, "Though, I must say, you are rather forward."

"Straightforward and forward? Redundant much?"

The Agent shrugged.

Nadimah tipped her head back and laughed mirthfully, kicking him playfully in the shin with the pointed toe of her black, high-heeled shoe, "Not accustomed to that, huh? Do your paramours typically play hard to get?"

"Mm," Bond mused, "Not lately, anyway."

"Now, darling, what I'm saying is this: While you would fuck me, you won't. And frankly, I won't either- I'm no home-wrecker."

The second woman in the past month to make such a claim; the Agent shook his head at the irony.

"I'm quite serious," Nadimah insisted.

"I appreciate the fact that you're taken. As I said, I've never been and I do not intend even now, in this case, to be a home-wrecker," She repeated adamantly, "And I suspect, in this particular situation, there may possibly very well be a home to wreck."

"Interesting evaluation," Bond drawled sarcastically.

"Don't you mean correct?"

Bond huffed a dark laugh before easily confiscating Nadimah's still half-full drink right from out of her possession and gulping down the last of it.

"Yes, darling," she intoned consolingly, "You go on ahead and suppress all those scary feelings of yours with a bit more brandy."

"I might be a little in love with you," he admitted, somewhat bemused and more than inebriated, "You are fantastic."

"You, my friend, are drunk," Nadimah snorted, slapping her companion's arm playfully before snatching back her stolen drink.

"Both could be possible."

"You're in love with yourself," Nadimah huffed, batting away the Agent's hand wandering provocatively up her thigh.

"Love and hate are not so dissimilar..." he mused, "Are they?"

"Do not be a maudlin drunk, sweetheart. I know better than to buy that you aren't completely in love with yourself- all men of your particular nature usually are."

"That's true," The Agent conceded, "But it hardly precludes me from having enough left over for you."

"You're not in love with me," Nadimah smirked, "I mean maybe you are with someone... your friend you claim you're just fucking...or perhaps the idea of it all."

She sighed her expression pensive, "But who knows really... do you even, James? Do you think you are even capable?"

Bond peered at her intensely.

"I've dabbled once or twice."

"Then what happened?"

"They usually die."

Nadimah raised an eyebrow, "Well that is certainly unsettling. Thank heavens you don't actually love me or I'd be scared for my life."

The Agent removed his hand from her knee and brought it up to tenderly cup her chin, "I am being completely serious when I say this, Nadimah, whomever it is you give away your heart to someday, will be a very lucky man, and I can only hope he truly appreciates you."

Her heart twinged within her chest before she pulled away feigning a smile; though Bond could see it did not reach her eyes, "I think I better turn in for the night, and you ought to as well. After all, I don't want your man to come storming in here looking for you."

The Agent let himself bypass the urge to point out her swift change in mood and resignedly smirked, playing into her desire to maintain the airiness, "Indeed, that would not be my preference. It was a pleasure, my dear. Until tomorrow?"

"Of course, good night, James."

00

Naadir tossed his glass into the recessed cavern of the electric fireplace where it shattered loudly against the slate tiling.

"How could you have failed to get him to sleep with you? For whatever you lack in looks surely I thought you could make up for in cleverness."

Nadimah winced at the insult, her fists tightening at her sides.

"Bond seems, for some reason or another, loyal to him, I'm not sure how exactly, but when I suggested he was in love with Silva, he hardly did much to dissuade me from thinking this was the case."

"That's disgusting," Naadir cringed, clearly revolted, "The very idea is abominable to me. I was unaware they were sodomites."

"From what I've observed," Nadimah argued, "Bond is not implicitly disinterested- I mean he seems genuinely attracted to me, and if Silva were not in the picture, he would have gladly taken me to bed."

"Raoul Silva is a perverse, despicable fiend and I am willing to bet he's extorting Bond in some way..." Naadir grimaced, "Upstairs is breathing down my neck, Nadimah, we need to work quickly."

"What would you have me do?"

"I have some information you may find prudent to impart to Bond tomorrow evening. Since you've befriended him, it would not appear so overly impertinent if you were to throw a jab or two at his partner. It is imperative we draw Bond to our side. We need him to believe us. Believe you."

Nadimah looked at her hands in her lap, unresponsive, and Naadir scowled.

"What is your problem, Nadimah?" He demanded stalking over to where she sat, regarding her strange desolate expression with increasing agitation, "Why do you not speak?"

"Are we doing the right thing, Bhai? By killing Silva? If the boys find out- then we may as well have signed our death warrant."

"You know very well I can make it so they don't. This is not about some fear of yours that they'll discover us, is it," Naadir intuited, "Do not tell me you would sacrifice our livelihood- our safety for the sake of your own sentimentality."

Shaking her head, Nadimah frowned, "I would not-"

"You would, you whore! Look at you- pathetic! One evening with some man you've known for all of a day, and suddenly you're stricken with guilt! You sicken me. I can hardly bear the sight of you," Naadir spat maliciously, "How could you be so selfish?"

Nadimah closed her eyes, swallowing thickly as Naadir sat down beside her, sweeping her hair back and tenderly pressing his lips to her face, "Do you not love me anymore, my piyarra bhen? Is that it? You would have me die? You would feel that is the right thing to do?"

She could not hold back a flood of hot tears escaping her eyes and her face crumpled as she shook her head, "No, no, Bhai, don't say such things to me, you know I love you more than anything in the world. I would never refuse you anything."

"Then you will do as I ask, my love?"

She nodded as he wrapped his arms consolingly around her; clutching her trembling form tightly against his chest, "Whatever you want."

"I want only you," he responded softly; sadly, "I want you to only want me."

"I do," Nadimah replied, her tone broken with anguish, "only ever you."

Through the cast of the dim luminescence cascading inward from the clear night sky outside their window, Naadir slowly stripped away his sister's dress. Pressing his lips against against the pulse of her neck and then the shell of her ear, he whispered in their mother tongue his endearments before ridding himself of his own clothing to climb atop her.

She lay beneath him, staring up at the shift of shadows on the ceiling above; unresisting as he took his pleasure out on her body; in a grim parody of the love he claimed to profess for her. Though she recognized the action for what it was; Nadimah knew it would be a futility to deny him; she knew she was already lost.

At a punishing pace, he rutted against her nubile form and she whimpered softly a small pained cry as he violently faceted onto her mouth with his own; his sharp teeth biting through her lip.

"I love you-"

Tears streamed down Nadimah's cheeks as she tasted the coppery blood upon her tongue and she closed her eyes tightly to shut out the world; transporting herself elsewhere as he unrelentingly drove into her body; consumed as he was by his desire to fill and take and stake his claim.

"I love you so much," he grunted into the crook of his sister's shivering shoulder; shuddering as he spent himself inside of her; she cringed as she felt the hot torrent of his release flood inside.

"With everything that I am."

Naadir lay beside his twin, stroking back the black strands of hair clinging to her damp forehead and leaned forward to place a tender kiss at her temple, "You owe it to me, piyarra bhen, to love me more."

Nadimah swallowed her initial response as she wiped away the fleck of blood welling from the sore upon her swollen bottom lip and squinted at him meaningfully through the dark.

"I do," she reassured him softly as he held her to him.

Hours ticked by as they lay side by side, until she observed his breathing ebbing to a gentle snore; the silhouetted outline of his chest rising and falling slowly enough to indicate he'd at last succumbed to sleep and carefully, so as not to disturb Naadir, Nadimah pulled herself from his arms and padded to the bathroom.

She stood beneath the hot cascade of the shower; allowing the blessedly scalding water to cleanse away all evidence of sin.

For a time, she wept openly, her wracking sobs safely muted by the din of the torrential spray hitting the tiles at her feet. Releasing outward her inward, keening agony until she wore herself ragged and it all slipped away; replaced by a sort of numb, fatigued acceptance and Nadimah weakly sunk against the steamed wall, collapsing her head between her knees. She watched as the water spiraled down the drain with renewed determination.

She would not disappoint her Bhai.

Crawling back into the bed, she slipped beneath the covers and folded herself around Naadir's peacefully slumbering frame.

At long last, cloaked within the warmth between them, Nadimah closed her eyes, surrendering to the welcoming and vast black void of unconsciousness.