Disclaimer: I do not own Casino Royale, James Bond, or any of the characters.
AN: I don't know if there is a deleted scene for this (I don't think so, but I can't be sure) or if it is explained in the book, but I thought that there would have been something more behind the broken wine glass James spots before comforting Vesper in the shower. Hope you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts.
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Broken Glass and Other Like Things
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She reached the fourth floor, opened the door, and quickly walked over to the elevator. She pressed the button and waited in silence, hoping that Le Chiffre wouldn't choose that minute to come out of his room.
Once she returned to the lobby, she went down to the basement, the fancy room with the poker table. Once she spotted Mathis, she shakily informed him of the bodies at the bottom of the stairs, and then walked away.
She hurried out, trying to force a smile on her face and look as calm and confident as when she first entered, but her mind was slipping, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she lost control of her actions.
Once back in the room she shared with James, she poured herself a glass of red wine and took off her shoes. She took a generous sip, barely noticing how her hand shook as it raised the glass.
A couple of sips later, her whole body was shaking and the glass dropped out of her hand, the top of it shattering and wine spilling on the table. She fell to the floor, staring at the glass in confusion and something akin to hated, though she didn't quite know why.
Her brain began turning of its own accord.
She noted the last bit of wine tipping from the broken glass. It reminded her of the last bit of life escaping the man as James strangled him.
She noted the deep red stain the wine made across the white tablecloth on the table. It reminded her of the blood spattered on James' face and clothing as he fought the man in the stairwell.
She noted the plain white of the tablecloth. It reminded her of the white bedsheets she'd laid in as a child at the orphanage, listening to the crickets buzz in the wetland through the window that wasn't supposed to be open.
She noted the coolness of the hardwood floor beneath her. It somehow reminded her of the soft bed of cold, wet grass she'd fallen asleep on countless times after she'd run away from the orphanage.
She noted the brokenness of the glass and the tiny shards that surrounded it. It reminded her of humans in general, most of them damaged beyond repair, walking the thin line of functional and dysfunctional, breaking and broken.
She once again noted the brokenness of the glass and the tiny shards it left behind. It reminded her of herself, trying to promise so much for others, yet so fragile and easily breakable.
She shakily pulled herself up from the ground and walked towards the bathroom, running her hand along the wall as she went to steady herself. She glanced at herself in the mirror, unable to give a coherent thought about her appearance before walking over to the shower.
She turned it on, the water ice cold, but she didn't have the energy to care or do anything about it if she did. Clothing be damned, she stood under the cold stream before sliding down the wall, hiking her dress over her knees and pulling her legs to her chest.
She sat there for some time, shaking slightly under the cool water, falling like ice onto her skin. It was one of those times in her life where she didn't think, didn't talk, didn't do. She simply existed, and that was the extent of her being.