A warning: this is not a happy fanfic..I guess that says were it heads.

Chapter 4: Jasmine

James clenched his hands to fists. He wanted to grab the throat of the megalomaniac who was responsible for this and squeeze the air out of him. He wanted to shot him from a short distance and see the life die in his eyes. He wanted to blow up his organisation and the madman with it. It was unbelievable that this should simply have happened with no evil mastermind behind it hungering for world domination. James could have screamed in frustration and probably he had. But M had not lied, he felt that. Running a shaking hand through his wet hair, he looked around.

Where only hours ago a coastal forest had been was now, well, nothing. The trees had been uprooted and washed away. The small village was gone. Boats lay on top of cars, buildings had been ripped apart. One of the few that still stood was his hotel. The realisation was only now beginning to sink in how close he had come to dying. The water had rushed into the hotel and washed over them while they had been running upstairs. Somehow they had managed to cling to the handrail until it was over. Most people, however, had not been so lucky. Corpses filled the beach, the water, the land. Children screamed for their mothers, wives mourned their husbands, parents desperately searched for their children. Death and suffering surrounded him.

Out of reflex he grabbed outstretched hands and pulled people to their feet while their faces blurred to meaningless masks. Jasmine, he had to get to Jasmine. He struggled against the knee-deep water and the mud sucking at his feet to get to the path she had shown him just yesterday. Debris blocked his way, and more than once he had to climb over a tree trunk. Sometimes he had to make a detour because there was no way anymore. Yet he moved with all possible speed until he reached the bay where her house was situated.

The wave had hit here as well, destroying most of the small village. He noted with relief that her house was one of the few that had been spared. He dashed over, in through the open door. Panting hard, he looked around. "Jasmine?"

Icy fingers seemed to grip his heart when he spotted light brown skin, black hair and a torn blue hair band. It had to be her. He broke into a sprint as fast as the mud would allow.

She lay face-down next to the remains of a bush that had been in full blossom. He dropped to his knees beside her. "Jasmine?" Carefully he turned her on her back. His fingers automatically reached for her throat. There was no pulse. Reviving her was not an option, her body was already cooling. He stroked her silken, damp hair and untangled a twig from it. She looked as if she had only decided to take a little nap but unlike Snow-white, she would not wake up if he kissed her. James wrapped her in his arms and pressed her small body to his warm chest. His lips brushed her skin, and he was not ashamed of the tears running down his cheeks. A sigh escaped his mouth when he realised he did not even know her real name.

Gently James lifted her up and carried Jasmine back into her house. He wanted to lay her down on the bed but looking at it, he could not. Only hours ago they had made love here; he had looked into her sparkling eyes, so much alive, and kissed her cinnamon-tasting lips. He put her body down on the sofa instead. Holding her hand, he promised her to make sure she was buried in a civilised way, he would look trough her belongings for her ID as soon as he could. James stroked her hair one last time.

Then he left. There were lives to safe.

-end-

I hope you still enjoyed reading this although it did not have a happy end. I ahve to say that writing a Bond fanfic which is not Goldeneye related is something almost "new" to me but it was interesting and Bond was quite nice to write and characterise.

Lady Slone: I'm glad you liked it so far, I hope I have provided a good read with the last chapter as well.

Mix-Me-A-Martini : How are your Bond stories doing, anything new coming up?

Diamond77: You're still writing Nightingale, as I see. I have to admit I admire anyone who can write a story of that length.