Bond a beach, and M on a motorcycle. For detectivecaz who wanted a story about M on a motorcycle.
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The fist narrowly misses his face as he lands his own fist into the stomach of his attacker. Pushing back the discomfort from the blow the first attacker landed to his face, Bond attacks lightning fast.
Bond presses his advantage but previously unknown third attacker grabs him from behind. His arm crushes his windpipe. The sound of a machine cuts through the grunts and shouts of the fight. An old motorcycle engine, the sound echoes off the wall of the abandoned warehouse.
Bond flips his opponent over his back to the ground, crashing the heel of his shoe into the man's windpipe as an old Triumph roars closer to them. Distracting the two men with oddly blank nondescript faces. Bond elbows one of the men sent to waylay him from his mark. The mark that seems a hazy memory to Bond now. All he can think of is escape. This is all a distraction from his true goal.
The Triumph arrives, as the small obviously female driver flips Bond's attackers the bird and nods for him to get on. She flips up the tinted shield but the face and hair are mostly concealed by the black helmet. However, the eyes pierce him as if straight to his soul...he knows those eyes but how...
James doesn't delay, and jumps on behind her as she speeds off. He knows his rescuer, or at least he should. She's so very familiar but things are hazy since the blow to his head. The leather jacket cannot hide the curves this woman possesses and the smell of perfume hits him like a slap in the face.
Smell affects memory, and every cell in his body screams in acknowledgment. Bond's hit with the scent and proximity to the woman he would most like to see, M...his M, but she died.
She left him…
Why..
Didn't…
She…
Tell…
Him?
Why…
Did…
She...die?
Silva...knife...dead rat. He bloody well did that for her! All for her! Everything was for her! Now there is nothing left for him. He grips the mystery woman's waist tighter.
The last time his body felt this numb and this attuned to someone was at Skyfall. He held her as the cold water froze his body and her heart gradually slowed. He felt as though he would never be warm again.
James only feels alive now in the field and that includes behind this leather clad woman on an old Triumph. Could his M have ridden a bike like this? No...something is still off. None of this is right. It feels too strange.
She weaves in and out of the traffic here in France. The beach is in the distance and the sun is going down. She slows the bike and stops by the seawall. James climbs off the bike and is hit by a wave of dizziness. The heat of southern France does nothing to warm him...he's cold. Dead cold.
The cold is crawling up from the ground, up his feet up his legs to his torso. All the adrenaline from the action now finished, allows his muscles to become cold. His chest fills with an icy chill.
Bond has felt disjointed like this for ages now. His head barely in the game. He fights to stay alert and to speak with the short mystery woman who saved him. She seems to halt removing her helmet and looks about to get back on the bike.
Bond reaches out his hand to her arm. She turns towards him and suddenly the helmet is gone. The sun seems to blind him in it's decent. The silver white hair he believed was blonde on first glance throws him off balance.
She's talking to him but he he can hear no sounds. He's stepping backwards as sounds seem to cone in around him, with only the muffled thudding of his heartbeat making any sound. He feels himself falling backward as his ass hits the pavement and the woman blocks out the remaining rays of the setting sun. His body falls back and his head hits something hard.
Bond's vision blurs in and out as a cold grips him down to the bone. He's too tired...M's here but she has not spoken...does she not recognize him? Why did she save him when he couldn't save her?
Will he see her where he's going?
Black…Grey….Piercing white. Sound returns with a vengeance, as Bond's head feels incredible pain and sensitivity to light and sound.
A doctor shines a light in his eyes. Christ it hurts. He feels alive, how could he not with his head in a bloody vice. Pain equals life, it always has.
Eve's there, he closes his eyes again. The light hurts and the pain makes him groan. He feels a floating sensation again as drugs take him on another voyage.
Tanner's voice battles with Mallory's. Then Eve comes back to bring in two strange voices. A woman and a man.
"Hello, James." The woman sounds like M. "I don't know if you can hear me but thank you for...trying to save me….my mother."
I saved you M. You were on the beach and saved me on that motorcycle... and you looked damn hot doing it.
Mouth dry.
Trying to answer.
It sounds out in his head, but he cannot give voice to M's doppleganger. She sounds the same but does not smell the same. The hair is full of dark curls, not a silver pixie cut.
I loved you.
I really did.
Why did you leave me?
There wasn't time to tell you. Why is there never enough time?
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Weeks later:
Bond stands at the back of the funeral. His body now partially healed from the beating and hypothermia he suffered at Skyfall.
The strange dreams he had between life and death still linger. Her children Judi and Ryan are there and he speaks with them after the service. They thank him again for trying to save her. It leaves him feeling even more hollow.
Judi looks and sounds just like her. He wonders if she...no...no...it's too much. The grief is still too visceral. He would destroy her life just as he did her mother's. Finding solace in the daughter will only bring more tragedy.
The children knew nothing of her real life until the Prime Minister and Mallory tell them after her death. What a shock that must have been.
Judi might look the part, but nothing about her on the inside, is the iron of the woman he loved. She may sound the same in his ear as they made love but it won't be the same. He can only ever try to seduce a copy...the original is dead and it's all his fault.
Contemplating seducing M's daughter makes him smirk in a bitter and remorseful way. The look on her face if she found out...she would likely throw the china bulldog at his head. Her face flushed and her eyes flashing. Like her tossing that ashtray across Mitchell's flat. If there hadn't been others there…what would he have done. Would he finally have shored up the courage to do something about the deep seated desires he held for her for so long a time.
What...what would he have done...he had just come home from Siena...he was desperate to see that she was unharmed. Tanner reassured him that she was; but still. She almost died then; that damn metal pole barely managed to save her. Why didn't the damn stone wall of Skyfall protect her?
No; he was too much the coward in her presence. Her rejection would cut worse than anything...worse than his parents death. Bond killed Mitchell and he killed Silva, but nothing could save her from bleeding out. Kincade did his best but he didn't know she'd been hit either. The reality of wasted opportunities is all Bond's left with standing beside her grave.
Nothing left to do now but live a life of what ifs. Bond only has a few good years as a double 0 left. If he makes it without her guidance it will be a miracle.
To be continued...