Alison frowned as she dipped her paintbrush into the tin of paint and looked down at her phone once more. The entire living area was covered underneath white sheets to stop them from getting paint on the furniture. The floor was hard after having taken the carpet up and leaving the floorboards down. They had intended on spending the Saturday painting the walls before the new carpet was laid on the Monday night. They had settled into a routine of, almost sickeningly sweet, domestic bliss.

Q would go to work at the same time as Alison, both of them walking to the nearest tube station but getting different lines. He would kiss her goodbye and watch her disappear down the tunnel before he went off himself, a smile on his face. She would return home from work earlier than him, dumping her bag and books on the desk that they had bought and placed in the spare bedroom that acted as an office but had a pull-out sofa.

She would stay there and finish marking any work she had to mark before Q came back and they would cook dinner together before sitting down and watching some TV series or they would sometimes decorate if they had enough energy. It was as they watched some true crime documentary that Alison said she didn't like the colour of the walls in the living area. And that had led to new paint and a new carpet being ordered.

"You're thinking," Q said to his fiancée as she knelt on the floor and shrugged her shoulders, her paintbrush moving up and down the middle section of the wall as Q stood on step ladders and painted close to the ceiling, trying to keep a neat line.

"Don't you think it's weird?" Alison asked from him, putting her brush in the tin of paint again before moving it back to the wall. "I've tried to call Madeleine three times since Friday and I've had nothing back…no text…no reply."

"But your dad did text you to say that everything was fine," Q pointed out to her.

"True," Alison said to him. "But he hasn't even called me…and that text was pretty abrupt."

"They're probably just enjoying time away," Q said to her as she put the brush down on the lid of the paint tin and stood up, hands going to her hips. She had specks of paint on her face and fingers, her body covered in blue overalls she had tugged on over the jumpsuit she had been wearing to stop that from being ruined. Q wore a grey sweatshirt and dark jeans, black socks on his feet.

"It's weird," Alison deadpanned with Q. "She was supposed to be coming to help me pick out a wedding dress next week and I've heard nothing."

"You're worrying about nothing," Q said, looking down at her and moving down the steps, placing his own brush next to hers. They only had one wall left to paint and Q was looking forward to getting that done. The windows were wide open and letting in a small draft and helping to get rid of the smell of paint.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you're a worrier," Q responded to her. "Alison, I know you quite well by now and I know that you worry about your father, but he would let you know if there was something wrong."

"I guess," Alison said to him and she felt him move a finger under her chin, curling around it and tilting her head up so that he could press his lips to hers softly. He knew that he wouldn't distract her too much, but he could do his best. Pulling back, his nose brushed hers as he pecked her lips one final time.

"Try calling him later if you want," Q said. "Or send him another text to see what he says."

"I will," Alison said. "But it's just that…things have been going so well…and I get used to knowing that something will go wrong because it's all I know. All I know is that I get this perfect life that I love and then something comes and destroys it."

"That won't happen," Q promised her. "I assure you, Alison, that things are going to be fine from now on."

"I'll hold you to that," she said and stood on her toes, kissing him once more. "Come on, we need to get this done because we might need to give it a second coat once it dries tomorrow."

"Oh, the joys of owning your own home," Q said. "You know, I never thought there was anything wrong with the colour of the walls before. This is you creating more work."

"But this is a nicer cream, isn't it?" she said, looking at the wall with her hands on her hips. "The other colour was too white and clinical. This is more homely. Besides, it's just painting walls, nothing too strenuous."

"You're not the one with the job of climbing the ladder."

"But you do it because you love me, right?" she teased him.

"I question it sometimes," he teased her straight back and she flicked some paint at him from the end of her brush, letting it land on his face and speckle on his glasses. She laughed at the sight of him as he shook his head and looked to her with a cocked brow and tilted head.

"You're going to pay for that," he warned her and grabbed hold of her before she could run away, listening to her shrieking as he dragged her to the floor and plotted his punishment.

…

Alison didn't know how her father was going to react to her news. She had been annoyed at first, being polite on the phone and then cursing loudly when she had hung up. She had thought that these types of things only happened in films, never in real life. The venue where her and Q had arranged to get married had been forced to shut down due to money flow issues. And now they had no venue.

She had gone wedding dress shopping on her own when her father informed her that Madeleine would be unable to go with her. She had picked out a dress and had tried it on, but it cost more than she wanted to spend. She knew she had her mother's inheritance, but she had intended on using that for decorating and the potential of a bigger mortgage if they did choose to move out of London to a bigger house.

And then the venue had told her that there would be no wedding. They had sat and ate a Thai takeaway one evening on the sofa when Q had said that he would rather just get married in a registry office than find another venue and go through the pain of that as Alison agreed with him. And so things had escalated from there. They had agreed to forgo the big wedding and the expensive tasting menu. Instead, they had decided that they didn't want to wait to get married. They wanted to get married with their closest family by their side and that was it.

So they had booked the registry office. Alison had talked to Q about the dress and he had told her to buy it, despite it being close to nine thousand pounds. But Alison didn't do it, especially when she knew that Q would tell her she looked lovely in whatever she wore.

"You could walk down the aisle wearing a bin bag and I would still find you the most enchanting woman," he had told her as they lounged in bed the following morning after discussing the change in plans.

"Dad!" Alison called him over when she saw him walk into the bar.

He had come to her, pulling his sunglasses off of his face and tucking them into the pocket of the leather jacket he wore over his white shirt tucked into his dark trousers. He was looking rather sharp, his haircut neat and his face cleanly shaven. He sat down next to her on one of the bar stools at a table in the corner after pecking his daughter on the cheek.

"Alison, how have you been?" he asked her.

"Fine," she said to him with a smile and he drank in her appearance. She did look well. She had a glow about her that he couldn't deny and her hair had been cut to sit neatly on her shoulders, hanging in soft curls. "Well, busy with work, but fine. You know how it is around the exam period."

"I do," he said, remembering how she put on extra revision classes and invigilated exams. "And how is Q?"

"Busy with work," Alison said. "He is looking forward to dinner tomorrow night and seeing you."

Q always gave Alison time alone with her father, knowing that they had a close bond, especially following the death of her mother. He didn't get in the way of that. He never wanted to. He respected what they had.

"Is he?" Bond asked, a teasing tone to his voice.

"Well," Alison drawled lowly. "He's still scared of you."

"Clever boy," Bond said and he heard Alison laugh as she picked up her glass of white wine and her father did the same. She had ordered a bottle in advance that was currently sat in a wine cooler on their table and was still quite full. "Anyway, what is the urgency with meeting? You sounded quite jumpy."

"There's something I need to tell you," she said to him. "And I didn't want to do it over the phone…anyway, you haven't told me about Madeleine."

"She's fine," Bond said quickly. "So, this thing?"

"Right, yes," Alison said, suspecting her father was deflecting. But she would work that out in a moment. "Anyway, Q and I have some news and I don't want you to freak out."

"You're pregnant?" he questioned.

"No," she said quickly, almost spitting her wine out at hearing him ask her that. "No, we're not expecting a baby…I'm not pregnant…I don't think anyway," she said, blabbering on and then shaking her head. She was always careful, preferring not to have an unexpected surprise. "We've had to move the wedding up. The venue called and they've gone bankrupt so we had to find somewhere else."

Bond nodded thoughtfully. He didn't know if he was ready to be a grandfather just yet. "And which Manor House have you gone for this time?"

"None," Alison said and her father arched a brow. He remembered her telling him how when she was a little girl she had always wanted the big princess-style wedding. "We've decided to go for a registry office instead…just around the corner from us. The reception is going to be back at our flat and we've ordered champagne and we're going to get pizza. Q's parents are coming and there will be you and Madeleine, but that's it. We don't want the big wedding and inviting friends from university…extended family…we want it to be small and intimate."

Bond nodded again and took a sip of his wine. "I've got to say, this is nothing like the big wedding I thought you'd have."

"Do you know much they cost?"

"Alison, if money is stopping you-"

"-It's not," she interrupted with a shake of her head. "It's not money that's stopping us, dad…well…I mean it is and it isn't…it's just that we want to get married and we want the day just to be for us. We don't want the big fuss, really. That's not who we are. We're quiet and that's fine with us."

"And you're sure about this?"

"Positive," Alison said.

"Right," Bond said and sat back slightly, hand resting on his thigh as his other held his glass of wine. "So, when is the big day?" he asked, taking a sip.

"Two day's time."

He almost spat his wine out then, placing a hand over his mouth to stop himself from making a mess. Alison watched him stop his spluttering as she rested her folded arms on the table in front of her.

"I know it sounds last minute and it kind of is because the registry office got us in because of a last minute cancellation, but we're not rushing into this. We both know what we want and we want to get married."

"Two days?" Bond checked with her.

"Two days," she echoed back. "So you two better not leave the country anytime soon."

"We won't," Bond promised. "Well…I won't anyway."

Alison's brows furrowed together as she watched her father. He looked away from her and she wondered just what was going on. She took another sip of wine and he knew she was looking at him intensely.

"We're no longer together," Bond said to her and Alison wondered what that was supposed to mean. He continued talking. "Madeleine and I were in Matera. We'd gone to visit Vesper's tomb…you remember Vesper-"

"-I remember," Alison promised her father, not wanting him to go through the pain he felt whenever he remembered Vesper. "What happened?"

"Assassins came for us," Bond said. "But while we were there she mentioned something about Spectre and her involvement in it. It was like she wanted to tell me something but she didn't…like she was keeping secrets from me…and then moments later, we were attacked by assassins who I assume came from Spectre."

Alison shook her head, struggling to believe what she was hearing. "Were you hurt?"

"We got away unscathed," Bond said to his daughter. She supposed it made sense why her father had been so aloof with her and Madeleine wasn't returning any of her calls. "But I broke up with Madeleine. I think she betrayed me, Alison. Assassins came for us as the same time she almost admitted she was keeping something from me."

"I don't believe it," Alison said firmly, her head still shaking. "Dad, this is Madeleine. Look at everything she's done for us."

"You weren't there, Alison," Bond said to his daughter. "You didn't hear what she said or see what happened. It didn't feel like a coincidence."

"It had to have been," Alison said. "Dad, I'm being serious."

"She denied it, of course, but I couldn't trust her," Bond said and Alison forgot her wine as she pulled her phone out and James shook his head. "She won't answer your calls."

"We can sort this out," Alison said to her father. "I know Madeleine. I know that she loves you and would do nothing to hurt you…and after everything she's done for us…to help us…how could you even think she would betray you?"

"Because I've been betrayed before," Bond said, voice slightly terse. He knew that his daughter wouldn't entirely take this news well, but he knew what had happened.

"Have you tried to talk to her?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you love her!" Alison snapped, knowing that she was attracting attention to herself. "And she loves you. Why would she betray you? You've spent months together and she risked herself to help you…to protect me from Jennifer. Do you think that someone who doesn't love you, who would betray you, would act like that?"

"She could be a good actress."

"I don't believe this," Alison said firmly and moved from the stool she was sat in. "If you're not going to sort this out then I will try because she's a good woman, dad. She's helped me more than you know."

Picking up her satchel from where it hung on the back of the stool, Alison tugged it onto her shoulder and picked up her leather jacket.

"She's not your mother, Alison," Bond said and his daughter looked at him, her eyes showing hurt and her face scrunching up.

"I know that," Alison said to him. "I know she's not my mother because my mother is dead…does that mean that I shouldn't care about her?"

"I never said that."

"Then what were you implying? That because you've done with your latest squeeze I should be too?" Alison asked from him. "And that might have worked in the past when you had one night flings like you had with my mother, but Madeleine isn't that. She's a woman you love and you've ran away from her."

"And you trust her word over mine?" Bond asked, ignoring the stares in the restaurant as he tried to keep his voice lower than his daughter's.

"Don't do that," Alison sniped. "Don't make this sound like I have to choose between you and her."

"That's what you're doing," Bond retorted. "I know she betrayed me and you're stood there telling me that you're going to try and find her…that you don't believe she betrayed me."

"Because I don't and you don't have any solid proof," Alison said. "So don't try and make it sound like I'm the one being irrational because that's not fair."

"I'm not arguing with you over this. Madeleine has gone and that is all there is to it. You only knew her a few months and you'll forget about her eventually. We both will."

Alison shook her head, eyes wide and a loo of disbelief on her face "Funny," Alison said sarcastically. "Mum used to say the same thing about you whenever I would cry over you going after seeing me for just a weekend."

She turned and stormed out then, Bond calling after her. But she didn't listen to him. She kept on walking and completely ignored him, wanting nothing more than to go home and find Q.

...

A/N: Would love to know what you think as always! Do let me know your thoughts and anything you'd like to see!