Chapter 04

****James Bond****

James nearly had a heart attack the moment he entered their room. She wasn't in the bed. "M!" He hoped that was not loud enough to attract any unwanted attention.

"Here."

The whispered answer didn't help. She was in the bathroom. Alone. "Everything all right?"

He stopped in front of the closed door. It wasn't appropriate for him to barge in on her naked, unless she was in trouble or wanted him to. Especially when she's your...well... she's someone who he holds in high regard, but is becoming acutely aware of on a far more sexualized level.

"Not even close, Bond."

"Do you need help?" Silence. He really should give her some time. They are not on any schedule, but her silent pause concerns him. His nerves were fried. "M?" Don't let her fall, God. Please, just don't let her be hurt even more. He tried to hold her upright with just the power of suggestion.

"I need a minute."

"Ok." He didn't move an inch. "Can you talk to me and take your minute simultaneously?"

"Bond," her stern tone was back. "I can hardly stand and breathe at the same time. Would you kindly shut up?"

"Don't strain yourself. I can help. You may not be aware of this M, but you're not the first woman I've seen naked." Maybe that wasn't the best approach, but he couldn't resist.

"Yes, I'm sure your lady friends were ecstatic to have you in a bathroom with them. However, you're constantly forgetting, that I'm not one of them. I would appreciate a bit of privacy, while we are having this conversation. If I ever hear office gossip about you, putting your hands on me in any way, I will let you rot in Antarctica for the rest of your miserable existence. You would never set foot on British soil again and we won't see each other again. Do I make myself clear, Bond?"

She was telling the truth. Any other woman, he would have bragged about taking care of, but not her, even if she needed help. Not in this serious matter.

Well, maybe it was time for the truth. "M, twelve hours ago, my allegiance to MI6 ended when Mallory told me to seduce you and find out, if you really have an amnesia. I'm not working for him. Even if he now calls himself M, he's not my boss. I would protect you with my life. You know me, I'm insubordinate, I flirt with anyone, and I have bedded anyone you've told me to for information. I've certainly riled you up in the past until your blood pressure is sky high, but I would never disrespect you in any way."

Truth was a bitch. "If you had amnesia, I would have taken you away and I would have stayed by your side, regardless of your memories. I would stand by you for the rest of your life. Hiding you from our own agency. Killing anyone, who would try to harm you and pretending I'm whoever you needed me to be. As your son, a nephew or a lover I will protect and stay with you. I will not use any false seduction on you, or attempt any mind games. I would never lay a hand on you without your full consent."

The soft click of the lock was his answer. She was leaning against the wall, obviously wet from her shower, wrapped up in a white fluffy towel, one hand protectively curled around her wound.

"Bond, stop being melodramatic. I can't stand on my feet much longer," she whispered brokenly.

He carefully pressed her to his side. "Tell me if it's too much. I can carry you." He knew very well she would be uncomfortable, if he was to put his hand under her naked thighs.

He would be strangely uncomfortable having to cradle her to his chest while almost naked in a small towel. He doesn't want to put her through that situation not to mention himself and what her proximity seem to be doing to him. They stripped her in the hospital. They touched her while she was unconscious. She deserves to have some say in this matter now.

James pulled back the comforter from the bed and let her settled down on her own. She is still only wrapped in a towel. He averted his eyes to give her more privacy and wrapped the sheet around her. "Ok?"

"I would very much loved to say yes, but unfortunately no."

"Is there something I can do to help? I bought some clothing and slip on shoes for you." She was tired and he could sense her helplessness. She had put her trust in him, in her employee. One of the people she had to show only her strength and ruthlessness. Bond can sense the weariness and her dislike of having to rely on him so heavily.

They are too much alike. James hates being weak and allowing himself time to heal.

"Just for feeling this I want to kill Silva all over again."

"Do you want me to find someone else to kill?" It was meant as a joke. They needed a lighter atmosphere between them.

"Very much so, but we can't attract unwanted attention," she chuckled darkly. "Maybe later when I have my health back."

"That's the spirit." She was silent. Probably thanks to the strain of her actions in the bath. "You do know I have to change the dressing on your wound? Unless you can do it yourself..."

"Which I can't, "she answered. "Yes, I know very well and how much I dread the experience. Have at it, Bond."

M lowers the sheet and pulls open her towel exposing the bandage and the wound.

James found another towel in the bathroom and patiently waited until she pulled it across her hips and arranged the other across her breasts. Still much of her torso was bare to his eyes. He momentarily averted his eyes while she made these preparations. He could practically feel her embarrassment.

Bond busied himself with the bandages and supplies. When it was time, he removed the dressing as gently and carefully as he could. His fingers were clinical and light on her skin. He didn't dare look in her eyes or stare for too long, mind tending to wander to what is under the towels she has strategically placed over her body. She already focused her eyes on the ceiling while he worked on her.

"It looks good. There will be a scar, but they did a great job."

"At my age, scars aren't priorities, Bond. I won't have them that long."

The matter of fact tone she used made him still. He slowly released a breath. "Don't say that to someone, who watched you die. Once was enough and I don't wish to experience it again anytime soon," he whispered.

"Bond..."

"I've dreamt about that day every night. I don't want to think about it awake, or have a debate with you about your longevity." He should leave well enough alone. Bond really doesn't want to chastise her, but he couldn't stand her matter of fact tone. Now her silence was unbearable. "I'm sorry." He said to clear the air between them.

"It wasn't your fault, Bond. You got me out of there in time."

"I really didn't," his knuckles on the bed sheet were gradually paler.

"They didn't kill me. I'm..."

"Yes, they did!" Again, the yelling won't help their situation. Especially not when she's not feeling well. Bond takes a deep cleansing breath. She helped teach him self-control. No reason not to use it. "They did kill you. I held you in my arms when you stopped breathing. Believe me, that's a moment I won't forget anytime soon. Your heart stopped at the same time the paramedics defibrillated you in the church, on that stupid filthy floor, a few steps from his cooling body!"

The need to touch her was back. Just to feel the slightest reassurance she didn't stay dead. He was captured in the force field of her body, but he couldn't reach out. It wasn't his place. She was M, the untouchable.

"I will secure the perimeter," he whispered and quickly left her alone.