Title: Not Left Behind
Pairing: 006/007 (as in Sean Bean/Pierce Brosnan)
Summary: Alternative ending to the Goldeneye.
Feedback: Would be lovely
Disclaimer: I do not own any recognisable character.
Author's Notes: Thank you Kazren for useful comments.
The curse was honest but the hand of 007 held on.
"What, James, some more... witty remarks before... you-"
"Shut up and climb back, you idiot!"
James looked beautiful in his anger, the wind tousling his hair. But it was hard to formulate words while being held by him from only one wrist.
"So that you can... take me in and... prosecute me and... see me secretly executed?"
"One more word and I will let go."
It was hard to climb back, the metal was slippery; the structure shook and groaned.
"It will not hold." he gasped when he managed to crawl back beside James onto the small metal disk. Under them was the deadly drop.
James frowned. "I hear that."
They both crabbed a strong hold of the wires when the whole antennae lurched.
Somewhat hysterical snort forced itself out when he huffed: "So we both die."
There was an odd comfort in that.
"No." James was facing something over his shoulder, relieved.
Then he heard it too - a helicopter was approaching. He looked over his shoulder and saw a flash of blond hair and a smirk. "A girl to rescue, James? You're losing your touch."
"I could have let you go so you are not the one to mark my touch or lack of it."
The chopper stopped, hovering very close, and eased slowly even closer. The wind of the rotors made it almost impossible to hear what Bond was screaming: "We both jump."
"Why would you care-"
"Just jump, alright?"
His shoulders and arms complained when he held on to the skids of the machine, dangling like a puppet.
The helicopter took height and as if their push had been the last straw of strain the structure could take, the antennae slowly turned and came loose, falling down into a ball of fire.
They clung for their whole might when the blast tore by and shook the chopper like a leaf. It was miracle that they even managed to keep being air born.
When they dropped to the ground, it did not feel real. 'Like the blast all those years ago had not felt real and the torture hadn't felt at first although then it became the only reality...'
He observed with an odd feeling of detachment how the helicopter lurched upwards, swerved sharply and then nose-dived into the closest valley. Bond had stood and he visibly flinched when a distant explosion was heard. So there was no strawberry-flavoured Natalya anymore. Pity, she had been a fiery girl.
He struggled to sit up: "What happened?"
"Must have struggled over the gun…"
"She held one on the pilot's head. Didn't you notice?"
'And that's, my fellows, is the difference between 007 and all the other 00-agents – he notices everything.' He shrugged the idle thought off. "You liked her?"
"Will you mourn her?"
"Yes." Bond turned and faced him. "I always do." He came closer. "You alright?"
The concern surprised a tiny chuckle out of him: "Why, James? I am the enemy."
A small smile. "You are fine when you answer with remarks like that."
A hand, offered with unexpected ease, though Bond's eyes were still weary.
"Are YOU quite alright?"
"Yes." He was hauled up. "We must move."
The hotel room was small and hot and absolutely nothing a 00-agent should have. Nothing posh and glorious.
He felt dizzy and aching from the fight and flight: "What is this, James? Why did you-"
"Shh..." and suddenly the greatest of 00-agents was kneeling in front of him, rumpled and tired and... Was that a relief in his eyes? Bond sat and just looked at him. "Did you really think I wanted you to die?"
"I must confess that you were pretty damn convincing."
A sad smirk to go with world-weary eyes. "We are both trained to do that, to be convincing, remember?"
"I remember. Then why?"
The sadness radiated into the eyes of the British agent and he looked old and haggard. "I saw how they shot you. I believed it."
"And you blew up the plant."
A hand covered his facial scars, made him whole again and ripped his heart out. "I did. I am so sorry of this."
"Not your fault actually." He felt frozen, not able to move, only to talk and feel his former friend's hand warming his scarred cheek.
"I did betray the British Crown but not at once..." The sarcastic smile tugged at his marred skin. "I did not want to at first, so they convinced me." He slumped away from the touch, tired, so tired. "They were very persuasive. And they made me remember things I did not want to... and they revealed some quite good reasons of why they did what they did."
"I know." The eyes were now beyond all tiredness and sadness.
"So my question still stands."
"I..." The silver-tongued world famous charmer stuttered and swallowed nervously. Then he looked up and closed the distance between them with a solid kiss. It was thorough and somehow brutally honest. "This is why."
He felt now even more surreal. He eyed his kneeling companion with an exhausted curiosity. "Is this now one of you standard procedures?"
"No. You know my dossier from cover to cover. Hell, you know ME."
"I do. No hint of homosexuality." A wry smile, he could not manage more. Nothing more.
The hand was back, warm, comforting, a touchstone in this bizarre moment. A whisper, like a prayer or a pleading sigh: "I mourned you like no other... not even my wife."
"I am supposed to believe you, right?"
"Yes!" Vehemence, strong like steel.
"Why? You seduce everybody."
Bond drew back, hurt but hiding it. He took a seat on the bed. "I am unarmed. Here." He threw a small key to the other man. "Handcuff-key." He took the cuffs out. "I am willing to cuff myself to this bed."
"You have gone totally mad."
"Kill me or do whatever." And the cuffs clicked closed around Bond's wrists, trapping him on the bed.
A second later he was unable to breathe, the ex-006 on top of him and his hands on his face cutting off his air supply.
"Are you still so sure? 3 minutes is all it takes and that beautiful sly brain of yours is gone."
Bond strained, bucked, trashed but he couldn't do anything. Had he really been so wrong that he was going to die here because he admitted a truth?
Before he began to lose consciousness, the pressure let up and the hands became gentle.
"You are a fool, James. Such a fool."
The following kiss again cut his breath short but for other reasons entirely.
"How did it take so long?"
Bond looked at his former friend's eyes, hoping that the next question he was going to ask would not be true: "Did it take too long?"
Alec thought about it for a second. "Probably." But his fingers were busy unbuttoning James's shirt.
"At least we are alive."
The hands stilled. "For how long?"
Bond sighed and uttered honestly: "I do not know. They know it was you, I did report that."
"And now you saved my arse and became a traitor yourself." Alec's smirk turned into full-blown grin. "At least we may die together."
"Perhaps they will believe we are both dead already."
"Could work." The ex-00-agent had progressed to unbuckling and unzipping. "Your main informant died in that crash, the facility became an inferno…"
"They cannot get much evidence out of that wreckage, indeed."
"They can find your watch and your charges…" And suddenly Alec was naked himself, above him, on top of him, trying to melt with him. A smirk, so similar in his boyish side of his face and so foreign in his scarred side, but the sound of his voice was the same when he leaned in and began to move, rubbing against the 007 like a big dangerous feline: "Are you charged now?"
"For you… now and always."
It was sweet and desperate and absolutely necessary.
"I always wondered how did you hair feel like…" he heard Bond muse and the agent's fingers raked through his dirty blond strands.
"That's a weird thought from a guy."
Bond shrugged but did not stop playing with his hair. "I suppose, in the hindsight, I was taken by you from the start."
"You knew that I swung both ways. You could have-"
"Yes, but I did not realise some things back then."
He turned and looked at his bed partner. Time had treated Bond very well. He wished that he could say the same about himself. Alas, he knew differently. "You don't know what you have until-"
Bond smiled sadly: "Exactly. Come here."
The kiss this time was still honest and hungry but also full of pleasure of play. And that was not the only thing ready to play.
"We are not that old yet, it seems," commented Bond, shifting a little.
"No, not that old at all." He pressed closer, making the 007 arch under him. "Do you want to take the big step?"
"Yesss." Bond's eyes were closed and he looked as debauched as one possibly could.
Bond appeared to be oddly focused above him, although his breath was coming in ragged gasps.
"You know…," he panted, swaying a little, "I always wondered what women felt… when they rode me…"
"You are hardly moving…"
"I will… canter quite… soooo-oh." Bond's dark head fell back, baring his throat. Alec could see the sweat making it glistening way downwards. He wanted to lick it, to taste it… He reared up, forcing a strangled moan out of the 00 agent, and then he was lapping Bond's neck and collarbone and neck again…
"You, Alec, are a very… bad… boy."
"Says the one… who is… shagged by him."
The bed began creaking but they hardly heard it, the heat around them made the small room simmer. The shadows seemed to grow longer and darker around them when their inner fire got fiercer. Their pace picked up, got harsher, rougher, skin slapping against skin, nails raking, dragging lines, moans turned into groans and near-screams and then it all came crushing down like a tsunami.
"So what now?" James' hand rested on his chest. The handcuffs had left a red ring around the wrist.
"I don't know…" The mumble from the pillow became clearer when James turned his head. "Are we going to stay dead?"
"We can try…"
"Then we have to get whole new identities and all that… and clothes because I am sure Q has-"
"Let's think about it tomorrow. We need to sleep." He could hear how a smug smile made it way onto Bond's face.
"Aren't we sleeping alread-"
"Shut up, James."
Bond nodded and burrowed closer, holding on like he had done before. And it seemed that this time he was not going to let go.