Just a faded photograph…

He stood at the graveside, deep in thought: it had been just another fling between missions. The phone call 9-months later had been a hell of a shock.

The DNA test had proved everything: he had a daughter.

He'd stayed away, not wanting to risk endangering them: there where those who would hurt them to get to him. All he'd ever had where a few photographs mailed from halfway around the world and a deduction from his pay check to cover maintenance.

He placed the single rose at the grave side with the card: In memory of Joyce Summers, all my love, James Bond.

The End