He was pacing. He never paced. It was unattractive, and it showed anxiety, it showed weakness. But no matter his feelings on the subject matter, he was pacing. Like a mad man. He was back, he had done more paper work than he ever had in his life, and he had no other excuse. He didn't want to see her, he had no reason to want to see her, or a reason to see her at all for that matter. Sure he saved her life, but he had saved countless people's lives in the past, and he never ran back to shake hands with them. Besides that nurse, that damn nurse, he had no ties. She saw his face for five seconds before she passed out from blood loss; they weren't exactly connected for life.

It all came back to her one little sentence. A sentence he couldn't get out of his brain.

"You're a good man," it really shouldn't have been such a brain teaser. He saved her life from a sex trade king pen, of course he was going to appear good in her eyes, he looked like Mother Teresa compared to whom had previously been keeping her company.

Bond rubbed his hand violently over his face dueling noting he needed a shave, and ceased his pacing. It was then that he turned to look at the clock hanging mockingly on the wall. He had informed the persistent little nurse he'd swing by around five.

It was four-twenty.

Resolve, shaky as it was, began to course through his veins. She was just one woman, she couldn't possibly know him, and she couldn't possibly have any inkling to his inner thoughts and emotions. That was ridiculous even to his own ears.

Decidedly, the Englishman snatched his keys from their spot on the desk, grabbed his coat, and headed towards the door. He almost made it without incident too, when a very familiar lady spotted him.

"What in heaven's name have you been doing here?" her voice held contempt as she looked up from the file in her hands.

"Paper work ma'am" it was simple and straight forward enough.

"Paper work?" her eyebrows crinkled in expressive confusion, "Bond you haven't so much as plucked a paperclip from your desk since you started at this agency," she had stopped walking altogether, and lowered the files in her hand to her side. Her full attention was on her double-O at the moment. And that didn't seem to be changing anytime soon.

"I must be maturing. Your dream come true I believe ma'am," his light tone contradicted his glaring eyes.

"Yes, having an agent that actually follows orders has always been a dream of mine," her sarcasm was dry and unyielding.

"If that's all…"

"Just one question 007; have you been to see her yet?" there was very little question about whom they were discussing.

"On my way there presently ma'am" he inwardly rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Good. Play nice Bond, or I'll have you killed." With that last statement, M left him alone hurrying down the hallway.

.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

When he reached the parking structure, his emotions had all but been packed away. He had little intention of striking up a friendship with the woman; he simply wanted to see if she was all right. His car made the affirmative beep that it was indeed locked, and he pocketed the keys swiftly. Walking through the double doors, he looked around to the elevators. On the ride up he found himself rehearsing what he was going to say, what he should expect.

He had vivid images of her in his mind. Scenarios of what her beliefs and personality were flew by him a mile a minute.

She would be one of those naturalistic people. She would believe that all people are essentially good and that people only did bad things because of the government poising the water. She would thank him, informing him that the hideous quilt he saw in the corner was knit for him, and it was symbol of peace and serenity.

She would be one of those annoying people. Her voice would be high and nasally now that she wasn't on the verge of bleeding to death. She would stare at him with big brown eyes and attempt to further their connection by giving personal information and gushing about his saving of her. She would be constantly touching her hair afraid that it looked unkempt and messy from bed rest. She would beg him to stay the night and keep her safe.

She would be one of those damaged people. Her eye contact would be brief and far between. She would curl up when he approached, flinch if he touched her. Her voice would be dry and patchy and he would feel a monster when her eyes fell on him and he saw fright and contempt.

The last one scared him more than he would admit. He wasn't entirely sure if his fragile psyche could handle such a prominent hit. Everything he believed about himself, every negative thought would be confirmed the moment he opened that door.

The ding of the elevator broke him out of his thoughts, and he continued on down the hallway.

"Awe, finally here I see sir. She is in room 37B, down the hall to your left," the nurse gave him a warning eye and turned back to her work. Slight surprise broke out over the agents face. He had expected much more pomp and circumstance than that. Recovering quickly, he strode down the hall, easily locating the door, and he raised his hand to knock.

He hesitated, fist hanging in midair, and he began to rethink this idea. Just as he was turning his head to see if he could sneak past the front desk, a crash refocused him.

Bypassing the knock, he grabbed hold of the handle and pushed open the door in a flash.

"For the love of all that is holy… I swear if… IF YOU LEAVE THAT BLOODY CORD THERE AGAIN FRANK…" brown eyes turned finally to rest on blue, and her browns widened slightly. "You're not Frank."

"No, I'm not" his hand was still on the doorknob, his stance rigid as he took her in. She looked pale and malnourished, her brown hair had regained some of its shine though, and her eyes were much livelier than he had thought originally. Currently, she was hanging onto a portable I.V. stand, leaning much of her weight on it, breathing a little to ragged to be normal. Her gown falling off one shoulder, and frazzled hair made her look positively mad, not to mention some residual anger in her face.

"I apologize, Frank, the afternoon nurse, seems to forget that I take walks every evening, and leaves the damned I.V. cord a mess, just waiting to trip me," she said as she straightened herself, and stood a bit taller.

"Sounds rather dangerous," his voice was steel and he strode forward as she seemed to list a bit to the side.

"Thank you, but I am fine. Really," her voice was now pleasant, gentle, like he was the one attached to an I.V. He stepped back to his position in the doorway.

There was a lapse in conversation, as the woman looked a cross between expectant and calculating.

"May I ask what you're doing here? Not to sound rude, but you are the last person I ever expected to see," her tone was light, curiously shining through almost innocently. Bond smiled a small smile as she did not give him a peace blanket, or flirt with big eyes, or look at him like he feared. She did nothing he had thought thus far. It was a good sign.

"I came to see how you were doing," they were all mild conversational statements that he had made thus far and he knew she knew it.

"You check up on all the people you save, or just the ones you curse at?" he felt alarmed for a moment as he recalled the colorful language he used when he had been trying to revive her. He then saw her upturned lips, and he smiled a small smirk as well. "I was going for a stroll, such beautiful things to see around here, don't want to miss them," her sarcasm was dry Bond noted. He had not met many women with such a sense of humor, it intrigued him. "You're welcome to join, though I can't promise the lions will be out today, they seem to vanish whenever I'm around," she hobbled out of the room, keeping a firm hand on her I.V. pole, the wheels making a slight sound as they rolled.

"Must be afraid of you," he held the door open for her, as he was still in the doorway, he smiled as she rolled her eyes slightly.

"Well, when you look like this, there have to be some perks," she threw over her shoulder as Bond closed the door behind her and walked to catch up.

They started out at a slow pace, the silence between them not quite awkward, but not particularly comfortable either. She was the first to break the silence, her tone conversational.

"You know, if you have other things to do, which I presume you do, you don't need to feel obligated to…"

"I'm not"

A moment passed.

"I didn't come out of obligation," his tone had softened slightly.

"Well okay then," she stopped her slow trek and turned to face him. "Olivia Grayson," she stuck her hand out, and he looked down at it for a moment. He had two options: take her hand and respond with the truth, or take her hand a lie. He could give her a false name, have a pleasant conversation, and be on his way. They would never meet again, (he would make sure of that) and she would go on with her life. They wouldn't become friends, she wouldn't be in danger, and he would be himself again. Alone, but keeping others safe. There would be no risk of hurt, or betrayal. She wouldn't have the opportunity to look at him with those big, seemingly knowing, brown eyes and destroy the last bit of sanity he had left. He took a moment before taking her hand and responding.

"It's Bond. James Bond,"

And so they meet! Hope this chapter was entertaining dears. I will continue to explore this I believe, maybe make it a story instead of a four-shot, we'll see :) R'Nr!

For Zenyatta19: it has come to my attention "Alright" is not a word. It is indeed "all right" two different words; just some food for proverbial thought my good people. And me, I won't talk about the fact I wrote it the incorrect way last chapter.

Again, so much inspiration from the great series by hybridbpv; Check out what amazing stuff is happening over there too!