The London Science Museum, as it turned out, had been the perfect place to take young Henry Lynd on that grey March afternoon. The boy was fascinated to the point of obsession by machinery, by cars and buses and planes and trains.
He loved the power that these machines had, power that he, as a small, often powerless boy, did not. But there was a curiosity as well, that Vesper noticed, as she stood beside her son and James Bond, the three of them gazing up at the 1862 Stephenson's Rocket steam locomotive the museum had on display.
She had seen her son's face light up when he'd spotted the train, and she had watched how his keen eyes roamed over every part of, his little brow screwed up in concentration, almost as if he were trying to figure it out.
She'd smiled when he'd turned to James, who'd been standing next to her, and started asking questions about the train, how it moved, how it worked, and she felt her smile widen even further when the man crouched down to the boy's level and began answering all of the boy's questions patiently and knowledgably, surprising even Vesper in the depth and breadth of his mechanical expertise.
She watched as her young son listened to the man he did not yet know as his father, his little face rapt as James explained the concept of a steam engine to the boy, about how the forces produced by burning coal and boiling water could somehow manage to make a train move down the tracks.
And as they moved around the museum, taking in as much of the displays as they could, she found her son deferring to James more and more readily, asking him things that even Vesper could not give a thorough answer to.
But James, it seemed, though why she was surprised, she didn't know, was quite versed in a wide variety of subjects. He had become familiar with many a large piece of machinery, whether they cars, trains, or aeroplanes, as she suspected he had had many opportunities to do so in his line of work.
But perhaps she had not expected the way he was able to explain these things to the boy in plain language, to quickly discern Henry's level of understanding and explain the concepts so that the boy truly understood. She had also not been prepared for the patience that James had for Henry's incessant questions, which often left even her exhausted.
When they entered the flight exhibit, with its impressive displays of countless aircraft from many different eras, she knew by the look on her son's face that they would be spending the rest of their visit here. Anything that flew held a special place in Henry's heart, and he was fascinated by the concept that an immense, heavy piece of machinery could fly so seemingly effortlessly through the air.
And James did his best to explain the concept of lift to the boy, though the boy seemed a bit dubious that a mere difference of speed in airflow could move a massive craft through the air, could make a heavy aeroplane fly like a tiny bird.
James acquiesced to Henry's request that he lift him onto his shoulders so he could see the suspended aircraft better, and with a look at Vesper somewhere between amusement and bemusement, he lifted the boy one-handedly onto his shoulders.
Vesper found herself swell with pride and contentment at the sight of her son atop his father's shoulders, finally, after all these years. It was difficult to keep the smile off of her face as they strolled the exhibit, if not from Henry's endless enthusiasm and the easy way that he and James got on, then from James's obvious befuddlement and the almost perplexed glances he shot her at the boy's evident affection for him.
As they made their way around the room, Vesper noticed a few envious stares from some of the other mothers, pram-pushers with harried demeanours and occasionally misbehaving children.
Vesper knew that she and James, even despite his unkempt appearance today, made an attractive pair, with their contrasting complexions; him swarthy and towheaded, and her with her fair skin and jet-black hair.
It was perhaps that that had attracted them to each other in the first place, that contrast between the two of them, light and dark. And if the heads they so often turned on the few rare occasions they'd been out together were anything to go by, it made for a lovely combination.
But today she allowed herself to revel in the covetous looks these other women gave her, slim and dark-haired, out with her well-built blond partner and their energetic, adorable son. She knew it was petty, and she had never been a particularly vain woman, but, in truth, these women knew nothing about this little family, other than what they could glean from their appearance.
They knew not of her son's lonely birth, nearly nine months after she'd tried to kill herself and was so, so thankful that she somehow had not succeeded. Or of how his father had not known of his son's existence until earlier this afternoon. They knew nothing of the torment she'd felt, the pain she'd endured raising him on her own, an ocean away from the man she loved, in a city that had been so foreign to her.
So, she let the others believe what they wanted to believe today, that this was a happy, loving household out for an enjoyable family day in London. She deserved it, she supposed, after all that they'd been through.
After a few hours spent ogling every single aircraft in the entire gallery, with James explaining the significance of nearly every one to Henry with unerring patience, she set to convincing her son, whom she was sure had exhausted his new friend with his innumerable questions, that it was time to leave.
He put up a bit of a fuss, explaining to her in an impossibly guileless manner that brought smiles to both James and Vesper's faces that he really liked it here and wanted to stay and there was so much to see.
But, she explained to him, it was getting late and they'd need to head back to the hotel for dinner soon and she was sure he'd like to cross the street to the park where he could spend some time at the playground beforehand.
So, after James assured him that he would be coming along, catching Vesper's eye and eliciting a smile, they left the museum, Vesper promising to the boy that they'd have plenty of time to come back at a later date and explore the rest of the museum.
It was nearing five o'clock in the evening as they passed by Royal Albert Hall on their way to the park and the sun was much lower in the sky behind the thin clouds than it had been two-odd hours earlier. But there was still plenty of light for her son to join the few other children playing on the massive pirate ship in the playground.
James stood off to the side of the playground, looking out of place among the decidedly youthful crowd of children of all ages and young parents. Vesper watched as her son joined the other children, climbing up the stairs and immediately immersing himself in the group, quickly making friends. He wasn't shy around other children, for that she was grateful, as she had been a shy, reserved child, clinging to her father's side most of the time.
She'd not had very many friends growing up, and her father's death had compounded this, making her withdraw into herself, and even the most concerned carers could not reach her. She was very happy that her own son had not had to endure the loneliness that she had, had never cried himself to sleep missing her.
A smile touched her lips as she watched him play happily, and as she stood there she was aware of a presence approaching from her left. Her smile got a little wider when she felt James's shoulder bump up against hers, much in the way she had done to him that day, long ago, after he'd miraculously managed to beat Le Chiffre at poker.
And much in the same way he had done that day, she turned her head to look at his face, and the dangerous grin he wore.
His shoulder was warm against hers through the thin coat she wore, and a shiver went through her. His touch had always had that effect on her, and except for the firm grip he'd given her arm earlier in the day in surprise, it was the first time they'd touched each other in years. His arm was firm and muscled against hers, and she resisted the hazardous urge to slip her arm through his and lean against him.
The day had been long and emotionally draining, and she was beginning to tire now, the shock and surprise she'd felt at having him unceremoniously step back into her life now fading to weariness. It would be so easy, so comforting just to rest her head on his nearby shoulder, to let him envelop her in his arms for the first time in years.
But their son, who to the untrained observer appeared to be ignorant of his mother's actions at the moment, apparently completely immersed in play, was watching them, this Vesper knew. He was always aware of her, and she of him, the consequence of single motherhood and raising a very observant and empathetic little boy.
So she resisted, taking what comfort she could in the fact that James was near, that he was here with them, finally. They had not had much of a chance to speak alone to one another since Henry's quick trip to the loo back in Kensington Square, and again she found herself at quite a loss for words. James, it seemed, felt the same, and they stood there for several minutes silently, watching their son play.
Their conversation in the café played back through her head, and at once a thought hit her. She smiled widely and was surprised to hear James's gruff voice speak a few seconds later.
"What?" he asked, and she turned to see that he was watching her, and had been, it seemed for quite some time. She felt herself flush momentarily, but brushed it off, looking back out at the playground.
"It's nothing," she said, nonchalantly, "I just remembered that you got something wrong." She turned to see amusement on his face and she couldn't help but smile.
"Oh?" he asked, curious.
"M didn't actually discover my pregnancy," she started, "she didn't learn of Henry's existence until he was nearly three weeks old." James turned to her, surprised.
"He wasn't born in America?" he asked. She shook her head, a rueful smile creeping onto her face.
"He was born in London," Vesper said, watching the surprise on James's face at this, "in Croydon, actually, on the twenty-fourth of April."
"Croydon?" James asked, astonished. He turned back toward the playground. "M knew my habits," he stated, after a few seconds, and she looked up at him curiously, "she knew I never ventured very far out of central London, unless it was travelling on the M4 to and from the airport. It was clever of her to hide you in plain sight," he finished, turning to look at her. "She got you a flat?" Vesper nodded.
"Yes," she replied, a nostalgic smile on her face as she thought of the little place where she had become a mother, "number eight, Gulliver Court." She turned to look into James's face, his blue eyes bright in the late afternoon sun. "That's where our son was born," she told him, and she suddenly felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, because she was tired, and the memory of her son's entry into the world came back to her very strongly, and also because this was James, in front of her, after all these years, and they were speaking about their son's birth. But then she blinked and took a deep breath. "He was born in the bath, in the morning," she told him, watching as a genuine smile crept onto his face. "It was perfect, James."
"I would've liked to have been there," he told her, his voice low, laden with emotion. She smiled.
"I know," she replied, and she held his gaze for a few breathless seconds, as they acknowledged all that had passed in that time. Then she looked away, back out toward the playground, where she spotted her towheaded son at once, up in the crow's nest of the ship, waving at her. She laughed, and heard James laughing beside her, and they both waved at the boy, before he disappeared back down to the deck of the ship.
James was still standing next to her, his shoulder against hers, the solidness of him a comfort in the waning afternoon. They stood this way for a few minutes, watching the children play, before James spoke again.
"When did you arrive in London?" he asked.
"Saturday evening," she told him, thinking back on that day that seemed incredibly long ago, when she had stood at the window in their hotel, looking out at this very city.
"Saturday?" James asked incredulously, and she nodded, smiling. She knew as well as he did that their meeting, barely two days after her arrival, had been incredibly serendipitous. "Where are you staying?"
She told him.
"The one on Edgware Road, just on the other side of the park?" James asked, and she nodded.
"Why?" she asked, amused.
"Because it's barely two miles from my flat," he told her, and she laughed incredulously, "why did you choose it?"
"The hotel?" she asked. "I don't know, I thought it would be close to all the sights, and to the park." James laughed. "What?"
"Why do I get the feeling that somewhere M is laughing right now?" he said, smiling, looking at her. She couldn't help but smile as well, at the ridiculous thought that that woman had somehow been so clever as to orchestrate their reunion from beyond the grave.
Vesper, though, chose to chalk it up to fate, and to luck, which she so fervently hoped was finally beginning to change.
"I learned of the attack on MI6," she said, feeling bold, "and I waited, and waited. I followed the news, but there was nothing after the inquiry."
"No," James replied softly, "there wouldn't have been." Vesper turned to look at him and caught a flash of deep pain in his eyes, before it quickly disappeared again.
"What happened, James?" she asked, her voice soft and low. But he shook his head, giving her an approximation of a smile.
"It's not the best time," he said, and she nodded, understanding. He would tell her, eventually.
They stood for a few minutes again, keeping an eye on their son, who was still clambering around the pirate ship energetically. Vesper knew she would need to fetch him soon, as the playground would be closing, and he would need supper, and probably a bath, as well.
"So you simply packed up and left?" James asked her, after a while, and she turned to him in surprise. "Once you learned of M's death, I assume." Vesper shook her head at his uncanny skills of deduction.
"I only knew that I had to come back here," she told him, because it was the truth. She'd been drawn to this city. Leaving New York had been the only option.
"To me?" he asked, and she turned to see he was teasing, but that the lack of mischief in his eyes betrayed him.
"Why else?" she asked, and he laughed quietly. She looked out at the darkening playground, at her fairhaired son, who was climbing deftly down a rope. "He needed you, James," she said, after some time, "maybe he doesn't realise it yet, but he will, eventually." She turned to look at James, who was watching her carefully.
"And that was the only reason?" he asked her, his eyes twinkling, and she fought very hard to keep the smile off her lips. "Because of…our son?" There was some hesitancy in his use of the shared pronoun, and it gave her an excited little twinge in her gut. He had turned toward her in the dwindling light, and was stepping dangerously close to her as he went on. "You didn't, oh, decide to jump on a plane and come to London just because you wanted to see me?"
She found a smile had come to her lips despite her best efforts, and that James, seeing it, seemed almost satisfied.
"That may have been part of it," Vesper whispered, and she saw the gratification in James's eyes at this admission, the recognition that there was still something there, after all this time, and that it was reciprocated. She ignored that familiar twinge deep in her belly, and the fact that her heart had begun to beat faster in her breast having him this close to her.
"But," she started again, tearing her gaze away from his face to look at their son, "he's my priority, James," she told him. "He adores you, you know," she said, trying to regulate her breathing, pushing away the risky feelings he could always evoke in her, "already. I can tell."
"Well, I quite like him, too," James said, and Vesper could not help the wide smile that came to her lips, unbidden.
"You were great with him," she said. James shrugged nonchalantly.
"He's a clever boy, and well-behaved, as well," he said, and she smiled, looking over at the boy in question, "though I will say with certainty that he did not get any of that from me." Vesper laughed deeply, looking back at James.
"You'd be surprised," Vesper told him, "he reminds me of you more and more every day." He raised his eyebrows at this, but did not say anything, and Vesper turned back toward the play area.
"I was wondering," James said, after a while, "if the two of you might be up to join me at my flat for dinner tonight?"
Vesper turned to look at him, surprise, she knew, evident on her face. Her first instinct was to gently turn him down, but the complete lack of guile on his face momentarily took her breath away. He was without his mask, stripped of his famous armour right now, completely and utterly vulnerable, and at once she saw that the events that had led up to M's death had had a very profound impact on him.
And in that instant she saw the need on his face, saw that he needed her and their son more right now than she needed him. But, the rational part of her that had become more and more pronounced since she'd become a mother knew that it would be imprudent, that being nearer to James than she had to be when they were both in such a weary and vulnerable state was not a good idea, not with all there was between them.
"James," she started, but then, as it often was, the decision was made for her when her son ran up to them, and she turned away to greet the boy.
"Mom," he said right away, and she knew what was coming. His energetic demeanour had gone, and she could see the events of the long, eventful day had taken its toll on him. "I'm getting tired," he said, rubbing his eye, "do we have to walk all the way back to the hotel?" His tone of voice was getting dangerously close to whingeing, and she knew he was on the way to a tantrum if he didn't get some rest straight away.
Vesper looked up at James, who was watching the mother and son curiously.
"You live nearby?" Vesper asked him, reluctantly.
"Just on the other side of the park," he told her, pointing west toward Kensington. Vesper sighed, crouching down in front of her tired little boy.
"James has invited us for dinner at his flat," she told him, and he looked up at the man with wide blue eyes. "Would you like to go there instead? It's closer."
And as she expected, the boy's face brightened considerably and he nodded. She grimaced. "Okay then," she said, standing up and grabbing her son's hand, trying valiantly to avoid looking at James. But she could not for long, her eyes flicking over to find him looking very pleased with himself indeed. She sighed deeply, wondering just what she was getting herself into, mentally repeating her earlier mantra of steadfastness and unyielding.
"Lead the way," she said, and he did.