AN: Here's Kara Milovy, and my (bad) attempt at romance. Also: I just recently got that her name was another Ian Fleming-style pun (example: Pussy Galore): Cara (cherished, beloved) Me-Love-y. Insert facepalm.

Chapter 2

The concert, as usual, was superb.

Damien enjoyed all kinds of music, but the classical genre had a special place in his heart. Many of his treasured memories of his mother included classical music in some form: opera playing on the record player in the garden on hot lazy summer afternoons, humming along to Bach's violin concerto on the radio while she dressed for a party, holding his small hands and dancing with him to the Strauss waltzes, Schubert's 'Ave Maria' soaring to the church rafters at her funeral…

He shook off that train of thought and continued on his way. This was not the time for melancholy.

Picking the lock on the flimsy door of the dressing room was easy. As he set up, he tamped down the small gurgle of nervousness that rumbled in his belly – what did he have to be nervous about, anyway? He must be out of practice.

Laughter and chatter drifted in from the hallway, and the doorknob rattled just as he slipped behind the paneled dressing screen, holding his breath and letting it out slowly in a controlled stream.

Well, here goes.

The door opened, and the light flickered on, accompanied by the swish of a long skirt and the click of high heels.

There was a quick intake of breath and a pregnant pause as the woman caught sight of what he'd left for her. The door closed gently.

Then…

A whistle. A wolf whistle, to be exact.

He slowly stepped out from behind the screen, grinning sheepishly. "I'm afraid I don't have that keychain anymore."

"What a shame," Kara said, thirty years older but still elegant, still lovely. "I liked that keychain. Very useful." Her accent was softer now, but her speech was still charming, very charming.

"It was," Damien agreed, still smiling.

"How are you, Damien?" Kara asked, pouring out the martinis he had prepared. Her hand shook a little.

"To be perfectly honest," he confessed, "I'm relieved that you remember me. If you hadn't, I would have had to make a rather undignified escape." He lowered his voice, eyes twinkling. "You might even have called security to escort me out."

She laughed, a brilliant glittering sound. "Never!" She handed him his glass, and their fingers met briefly, hot and cold at the same time.

"Kara," he breathed her name, and it felt right on his lips. "Beautiful as ever."

"And you," she murmured. "Handsome still. And very charming." She took a sip of her drink to hide her suddenly blazing face.

"Kara," he said again, but more boldly, "What are you doing tonight?"

She took a deep breath. He could see the pulse fluttering in her swan-like neck. "I think I can make time for an old friend."

. . .

They ate at a little place he knew. It hadn't changed in the three decades since he'd retired (he had, of course, staked the place out beforehand to make sure there would be no hiccups). It was perfect: private, quiet, and dark.

Kara looked lovely in the dim light of the flickering candles, her warm skin and pale hair contrasting against the dark satin of her dress. Although she had come directly from her concert, her makeup was light. Damien suspected that she wore hardly any on normal days; she was the type to wear her natural skin with comfort.

They spoke quietly, of unimportant things at first, but slowly sharing more personal details.

Kara had been married and divorced (Damien had known this, of course, having done a little digging beforehand, though he didn't let on that he had – he suspected that she knew he'd done it anyway).

"But no children," she said, her smile turning sad. "That's part of the reason why we divorced. I couldn't have children. He wanted them." Her hand tightened around her fork and she frowned. "He has them now. With his new wife."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"It was a long time ago." She took a deep breath and visibly forced herself past it. "What about you?" she asked in a brighter tone, putting her fork down, setting aside her past. "Are you married? Children?" Bold. Just like she was before, but sadder, with more experiences under her belt.

"One boy. He's all grown up." Danny really was a fully-fledged adult now, with a life of his own.

"Your wife?" Kara asked, curious, as a friend, but also…she wanted more, and wanted to know if he was free. She fingered her glass thoughtfully.

"Not married," he replied, significantly, in response to all the parts of her question – Married? Seeing someone? Interested? No, no, and yes. "I raised him on my own." Countering. No, there was no one else in the picture.

"What is he like?" she asked next. "Handsome and charming and dangerous like you?" Her lightly rouged lips curved mischievously, teasing him. The expression suited her just as much now as it did back then.

He knew that his own expression had brightened; thinking of his son always brought a smile to his face. "In his own way, yes to all of the above."

She had been looking at him curiously ever since he had mentioned Danny. Her warm brown eyes gazed steadily at his face, taking in more than he meant to let her see.

"Do you have a picture?" she asked eagerly, "Let me see."

He found himself doing what parents these days did the world over; he pulled out his phone and opened the photo app to find a good picture of his boy.

"Here he is. That's one of his cats." Ada Lovelace, the white persian, swatted her fluffy tail in Danny's face, capturing him in an expression that was somewhere between annoyed and delighted.

Kara studied the photograph, recognition flashing across her face for a moment. "I know him," she said, sounding puzzled. "He came to my concert in Brussels last month. He…said he wanted to donate to the school." Kara taught at the London Music School between concert tours. "We had lunch."

Damien sighed, taking the phone back from her. "Of course he did. Nosy little bugger," he said, but without animosity. "He arranged this trip for me as a birthday present. I daresay he predicted I'd want to have dinner with you and decided to vet you beforehand."

Kara looked at him, amused. "So your son is in the same business as you? He's not an investment banker like he said?"

He fixed her with a look of mock severity. "You don't really expect me to answer that, do you?"

"That means yes," she decided gleefully. "He's a very charming young man. He didn't seem dangerous to me. But he is your son, so he is, of course," she said, completely matter-of-fact. "He has your eyes."

He stared at her, slightly taken aback. "It doesn't disturb you that my son literally investigated you before he set up a meeting between the two of us, even though I didn't even know that it was a set up?"

Kara continued to smile serenely and sipped her wine. "I suppose he had to make sure I was someone he'd want his father to associate with, especially if he loves you as much as you obviously love him. I think he wanted you to be safe."

Damien sat back in his seat. "You are a very odd woman, Kara."

She looked innocently at him. "Didn't you already know that? Besides, after everything that happened, do you expect me to be shocked when it comes to anything that has to do with you?"

He shook his head wryly, chuckling softly. "Kara, Kara. Always full of surprises."

She laughed, and he was caught again by how beautiful she looked.

"You said that it's your birthday?" she asked, blushing under his gaze.

"Yesterday."

"Happy birthday." She lifted her glass to toast him.

"Thank you." He sighed. "These days, it's just another reminder of how I'm getting older and older all the time."

"Better to get older than to die young, isn't it?" she pointed out. "You survived your job. That has to mean something."

"It means I ache all the time," he chuckled dryly, then sighed reflectively. "All joking aside, I've been lucky. I've had a good life, especially after I retired."

"Because of your son?"

"Yes."

Her gaze turned thoughtful. "It must be wonderful," she said with a touch of envy, of longing, in her voice, "to know that you've created and raised a young man like that. He was very kind, very polite, very nice."

"Are you sure you're a good judge of character?" he teased, wanting to lift her spirits. "After all, might I mention that you thought Koskov was also a nice man?" General Koskov had been a manipulative liar who'd been very willing to (literally) sacrifice Kara, his then-girlfriend, for his own purposes.

She made a face and slapped his arm lightly. "You're terrible for reminding me of him. I know that I have a bad taste in men, you included."

He laughed and captured her hand in his. It felt small and fragile in his hold, though the callouses on her fingertips spoke of their power. "I definitely agree on that assessment. Your ex-husband is an idiot for letting you go. You're a one-in-a-million kind of woman, Kara."

She flushed and swatted his arm again with her free hand. "You are trying to lure me into bed with your charm, Damien!" she exclaimed, her eyes dancing behind the annoyed facade.

"Is it working?" he purred, still holding her hand, and drawing light circles on the back of it with his thumb.

She made a frustrated sound, but kept her hand where it was. "Oh, you! You are a very bad man!"

"Very bad," he agreed, his green eyes twinkling as they bore into hers. "I am a terrible, awful, dangerous man, and you should run very far from me, very fast."

She pulled her hand out of his and crossed her arms on the table. "Do I look like the kind of woman who would run from danger?" she asked sternly, her lips only twitching a little.

"No," he said, also with not-quite-suppressed humor, "You look exactly like the kind of woman who would charge on a horse right into the middle of an enemy airfield, straight into battle, with absolutely no training."

Kara dissolved into giggles. "I was very young, wasn't I?" she said mirthfully.

"And very headstrong," he agreed, smiling.

"I would do it again," she declared with absolute certainty, "And this time I know how to use a gun!"

Damien shook his head, his lips curving, "Like I said, you're a one-in-a-million, Kara."

She smiled at him, a warm, gentle smile. "So are you, Damien Drake."

. . . . .

2 October 2018

Damien had extended his trip to Vienna another three months as he accompanied Kara on her European concert tour. Now, they had just landed at Heathrow, as she had a concert in London – her final one for this tour – on the tenth.

They were going through what had now become their routine at the baggage claim; he insisted on holding all of the bags, and she took her cello (still the same bullet-scarred Stradivarius instrument and case that had taken them across the Bratislava border into Austria).

"Those look heavy," a familiar voice said at Damien's shoulder. "Need a hand?"

"Danny, what are you doing here?" Damien asked, surprised to see his son, but not too shocked, even though he hadn't mentioned anything to him about returning to London. He had wanted a little more time to think on how he was going to formally introduce Kara to his son. Evidently, he needn't have worried; Danny had already pushed his inquisitive nose into his business…as usual.

"Someone forgot to tell me he was coming home," Danny said, taking one of the bags and slinging it over his skinny shoulder with ease. "But that's what you get with someone like him," he said as an aside to Kara. "Hello Ms. Milovy. I heartily apologize for the subterfuge, but something tells me you don't mind."

Kara grinned and hugged him enthusiastically, kissing him on both cheeks. "You must call me Kara, Danny. It is good to finally meet the real you, not John Melville the investment banker," she gave him a reproachful look.

"Can you blame me?" Danny asked, ducking his head shyly. "He's got terrible taste in women, generally."

"Does he?" Kara said, eyeing Damien, who looked resigned to his fate. "He never told me that."

"Oh yes," Danny said, enjoying himself. "He had a wild time of it while I was at uni. Something about an empty nest, feeling useless, midlife crisis…Ow!" He rubbed the back of his head dramatically where his father had taken a swipe at it.

Damien smirked. "Keep your anecdotes to yourself, young rascal."

Kara giggled and leaned towards Danny. "Tell me later?" she whispered, but not very quietly.

Danny winked. His father rolled his eyes.

"I'm so glad to finally really meet you, anyway," Kara said, beaming at Danny. "Your father has told me a lot about you."

"And I've heard a lot about you. All my life," Danny lowered his voice. "He's a huge fan. Did he tell you that? We had all of your cassettes and CDs when I was growing up, and we'd always tune in if you were on the telly. Every concert, every interview, everything."

'Oh, for heaven's sake, Danny, stop that!' Damien projected silently, inwardly mortified, though his expression remained mildly amused.

Kara laughed. "You are naughty, aren't you? Trying to embarrass your father."

Danny shrugged. "Payback for all the times he's embarrassed me. He's very good at it."

"He loves you very much."

Danny's eyes softened behind his thick glasses, just as his father's did when speaking of him. "I'm rather partial to him myself. Look, and now he's grumpy because we're talking about him like he's not here."

"Do you know," she said, linking elbows with him, leaving Damien to walk after them with the rest of the bags, while shaking his head ruefully. "I think we are going to get along fabulously."

"I think so, too."

. . . . .

Danny led them to the parking garage, where he had left his vehicle, a sensible silver SUV with tinted windows.

When they neared, the vehicle inexplicably began bouncing and emitting muffled sounds.

"Your other son is upset because you abandoned him for three whole months," said Danny rather drolly, unlocking the car and opening the doors remotely. "He's been sulking. I don't think he'll want to see you for at least a week." This was said over the enthusiastic barking of an extremely excited golden retriever, which, it ought to be mentioned, was the source of the bouncing of the car.

"Easy, Horatio," Damien laughed, answering his dog's happy (and wet) kisses with a good vigorous rub of his ears and sides. "Did you miss me?"

Horatio, evidently thinking that he was still puppy-sized, was trying to scramble up into his master's arms in an effort to get as close as caninely possible.

"Alright, alright," Damien said, picking him up with a groan like an oddly-shaped toddler. "I'm home, you daft dog." He walked over to Kara. "Say hullo to Kara, Horatio."

Kara was delighted to see this side of the usually undemonstrative man. She offered her hand to the dog to introduce herself.

"Hello, Horatio."

The dog gave it an experimental sniff. The powerful tail wagged, thumping against Damien's thigh, and the pink tongue lolled out of the doggy grin. Kara petted the thick yellow fur and scratched behind the ears. The tail wagged even harder, and the dog closed his eyes with a happy whine.

"Lovely, the dog likes her," Danny said from where he was loading the luggage into the boot, "So we're keeping her, then? Last test passed and so on?"

"Ignore him," Damien muttered to his…girlfriend?

Kara only chuckled and allowed Danny to help her into the car, as Damien's arms were full of happy wagging dog.

"I guess this means I'm driving," Danny said, opening the passenger front side door for him with a gleeful flourish.

"You needn't look so eager." Damien settled himself into the very comfortable seat with the dog scrabbling for purchase in his lap.

"He never lets me drive when we go somewhere together," Danny explained to Kara as he swung himself into the driver's seat and clicked his seatbelt into place.

"You taught yourself how to drive when you were three. I think that speaks for itself."

"Exactly! I have more experience behind the wheel than anyone else my age." There wasn't a hint of irony in the young man's delivery.

"Most people could see over the wheel when they learned to drive," his long-suffering father pointed out, "In fact, most of them could reach the pedals."

Danny scoffed. "That could be — and was — easily remedied with a few simple adjustments."

"And that attitude is why I hate driving with him."

Danny glanced in the rear-view mirror at his extremely-amused passenger. "Kara, I assure you; I am a very good driver. I've never been in an accident I didn't mean to cause."

"I rest my case."

Danny huffed, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Do you know how hypocritical that sounds? You literally risked your life multiple times a day for years, not to mention the thousands of traffic accidents you personally caused, and you don't want to get in the car with me."

"Watch that car on the right."

"I see it, I see it."

"Brake!"

"Stop backseat driving!"

Horatio whined.

"You're scaring the dog!"

"He's picking up on your anxiety, Dad! He was perfectly fine on the way here."

. . . . .

Notes:

Keychain - One of Boothroyd!Q's gadgets. It dispensed knockout gas if you whistled 'Rule Britannia' and a wolf whistle would set off a bomb…but also it worked as a keyring finder? (Yeah, I know, possible plot hole, movie people, but I liked that last scene in the movie, which I replicated here in part, so I kept it).