Disclaimer: I don't own "James Bond" or any of the 007 characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: I wanted to do a little OOQ wing fic and got carried away. Inspired by the following prompt: "Humans can not fix the problem because humans are the problem."
Warnings: angel!Q, mild language, canon appropriate violence, drama, angst, romance, pining, wing fic, religious themes and references, angels and demons.
Suspire
Chapter Three
The fetid stench of demon-flesh was so strong it knocked him back when he appeared outside the room they were keeping Bond in. He gagged, wings wrenching under his skin. Screaming to be free. The reaction was so visceral his stomach turned. There was no sign of the creature itself, but he felt it's presence. Knowing he only had seconds before the demon sensed him as well.
It had been a long time since he'd been in the presence of one so powerful.
Not without his brothers and sisters.
The demon was old. Ancient. The first ones had a certain musk about them. Misting the air with age-old echoes of cruelty and malice. Back when hell had been new and the screams of the damned could be distinguished from one another. Not caught together in one loud, encompassing howl of torment.
His wings shuddered underneath human muscle, sensing Bond on the other side of the cement wall. His head cocked as he took it in, listening, senses on a knife's edge. He could hear the tension traveling between leather-cuff restraints. Counting the sharp, shuddering breaths as Bond worked the cuffs against each other. Sign enough Bond was conscious and trying to escape.
Of course he was.
He would have expected nothing less.
In fact, he would have been disappointed if he hadn't.
He twitched in place, breathing in the after-tart of hellfire. Realizing the problem immediately. There was no way to free Bond without showing himself. He'd hoped for a less guarded cell with mechanical constraints he could trip the power to release. Something. Anything. But there was nothing. In fact, the entire building had no power at all. Nothing he could use to even distract the guards on the other side of the hall. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Damn!
His fists clenched at his sides. Glock unfamiliar and dangerous as it dug into the curve of his waistband. Steeling himself for the inevitable as his hand closed on the door handle. Testing the give. The lack of a deadbolt. The ease of the springs and mechanism underneath. He closed his eyes. Breathing unevenly.
It was unlocked.
He pressed his hand against the cement wall with a loaded breath. Able to feel the warmth of the man's soul. It was a flawed little thing. Multi-hued and slightly worse for wear. But it was there. Still shining brightly, in spite of everything. If he was being honest, he'd admit it had been one of the things that had drawn him to Bond in the first place. A 00 Agent with a soul that still hummed and sang was a rare thing. A soul that still basked in the light and reached towards his grace with instinctive hope.
It had been fading that day in the gallery.
In danger of going out completely, if he was any judge.
But Bond had been able to rally.
And bit by bit, that tarnished little soul became a little less shredded.
He'd admired him for that, if not for his blatant disregard for MI6 property.
Souls were tricky things. Wild, intangible and not at all recyclable. He'd followed his fair share as they floated off to the ether. Leaving behind its shell with a natural exhale any angel could detect from miles off. Herding them carefully onto the road they all inevitably traveled before they were judged. He still let himself listen sometimes, when he was feeling especially alone. Letting himself get caught up in the near constant symphony of the saved and the damned. Reassuring himself that some of the Almighty's machinations still plodded on.
He closed his eyes, fingers threatening to curl like stubby claws. Fighting the instinct to flare his wings protectively around himself. Shuddering and rocking back on his heels as he contemplated the idea of finally breaking that last barrier. Of letting Bond see him, all of him, as he truly was.
It wasn't something he'd ever thought would happen.
Not past the odd day dream.
But he couldn't deny it didn't have a certain... appeal.
Bond's soul had always been loud.
Screaming.
Playful.
Jaded.
Willful.
Wounded.
Tired.
And with good reason.
From the moment he'd met him, Bond had been bowed low by the weight of tending to the fires of life. But he wasn't ready to abandon his hearth. Not yet. Not even when that weight would have certainly crippled anyone else.
Such a rarity of will and strength was worth preserving.
No matter the cost.
Maybe there was a chance he could snap in and out of the room before Bond noticed?
Perhaps he could undo the restraints from behind?
Making sure the path was clear so Bond could escape into the city?
It sounded almost possible, in theory.
The key word being 'almost.'
He exhaled, wondering when he'd started thinking in calculations and complex chemical structures that only ever led back to Bond. Avenues and lane-ways that focused on him, and only him. It wasn't just a human thing to love, after all. He'd just never expected to fall in love with a man who had chaos instead of oxygen in his bones.
Love was complicated.
And he was sure he didn't understand the half of it.
But here he was, ever the fool for the chance to grasp it for his own.
Had God intended for this?
Or had not even the creator known such a thing was possible?
There was no way to know for certain.
No guidance he could seek.
No-
The scent of hell-char made him tremble. Wondering if it was just his imagination, or if the foul stink was getting stronger? Closer? Either way, he couldn't afford to delay. He only had one chance at this. One chance to free Bond and get out of this mess without entanglements.
He closed his eyes, momentarily steeling himself.
He'd pray, but the ugly truth was, there was no one left to listen.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. There will be more to come.