Thank god Q had made Bond's little radio waterproof. M had been on the verge of death when the agent had remembered the thing, which had been in his back pocket, and an MI6 helicopter had picked him, Kincade and M, who had started to succumb to her injuries by that point, up from the charred ruins of Skyfall, Bond's childhood home. M was alive - again, thank god - but only just. There had been so much blood on her clothes, her coat in particular, Bond could have sworn that you could've wrung it out of them, and Kincade had told him that she had been limping for the whole time on the walk to the chapel. M had shrugged it off, telling both men that she had had either sprained her ankle, or even that she was completely uninjured. Bond hated her for doing that, but, stern and somewhat demanding as she was, Bond loved her at the same time (okay, in a kind of mother-son type way, not the way that he had completely fallen for Severne, or however you were supposed to spell the Russian hooker's name) and he didn't want her to die. At least not because of him. She had said on several occasions that Bond would be the death of her, but he had never intended for that to be true.
"James," Kincade put his hand on Bond's leg. The 00 agent brushed it away. They were both sat awkwardly in the A&E of a hospital in, well, really the middle of nowhere. Kincade looked Bond in the eyes firmly. "James, keep your tampon in. I've got as little idea as you have on what the hell just happened, but you sitting there wetting your knickers isn't going to help Emma at all. Now if - and only if, god forbid - she doesn't make it, I don't want you to beat yourself up about it. No matter what happens, it wasn't your fault. And really, would it kill you to wash your hands every once in a while?"
Bond snorted. "Like you can talk!" Both men were looking at the congealed blood darkening on Bond's hands. M's. He had made a pact to himself that he wasn't going to wash it off until he knew M's fate for certain. He didn't care what the old gamekeeper said. It was his fault that M's chance of survival was now down in the regions of 30%, and if she died, he would carry the blame until he did as well.

Bond looked across the room at a woman with frizzy dark hair that he was sure he knew. She had her face buried in a wet tissue, and there were tears gathering in her eyes. Wait, Bond thought. He did recognise her. "Eve?" He said tentatively. "What are you doing here?"
When Eve spoke, her voice was oddly thick. "I got clearance to come here as soon as I heard the news. H-how is she?"
"Don't have a bloody clue." Bond said. "I know that she's lost about three litres of blood, that there's a seventy percent chance that she's going to die, and that all that is completely my fault, but I don't know at all how she's doing at this particular moment in time."
That was about to change. A male oriental-looking nurse walked up behind the three; Eve had gone and sat by Bond and Kincade, and tapped Bond on the shoulder. He turned around, somewhat angrily. "What?"
"Mr Bond, this is about Evelyn-"
Kincade looked confused, and Eve hissed something in his ear. Bond scowled. "She didn't make it, did she?"
"No. Actually, she's doing pretty well. We've had her on a blood transfusion for a while, and she's starting to come round."

Thank god. Thankgodthankgodthankgod!

The sight of M in her current state didn't exctly make Bond feel much better, but at least she was alive. Okay, she looked eerily dead, but he could see her chest rise and fall with her every shaky intake of breath. Some little comfort, but not much. Her eyes were closed, and, although at the time it had seemed as if it had just ended up covered in blood from the wound in her hip, it had later been discovered that M had also been wounded in her left hand and forearm, and her injured arm was folded over her chest. There were a load of tubes and wires running in and out of M's arms. Bond looked at the floor. He was alone, Kincade and Eve had waited outside. This was his fault. His chain of guilty thought was cut off by M saying something. "Well, now I know that I couldn't be you," her voice was somewhat hoarse, and it clearly took a lot of effort to say anything at all. "Turns out that ressurection is a lot more painful than it sounds. I honestly can't imagine having it as a hobby." She shifted her position so she was sort of half sitting up. She grimaced as she did this, but managed it. Bond smiled, though the thought of what had happened to his boss, and more specifiaclly, how it had actually happened in the first place made him want to cry.

"How the hell, may I ask, are you still alive?"
"Yeah, I love you too, Bond," M turned to face her 00 agent, her piercing blue eyes seeming to penetrate his soul. God, M's eyes always freaked Bond out, even on the rare occasions that she was trying to be pleasant. "I'm putting it down to willpower. Plus I'm not mad keen on the idea of Mallory getting my job. Honestly, is it worth expecting you to take the blame for all of this? Still, it takes a weight off of my shoulders. All this time I thought Silva was dead, and because of me..." M's voice tailed off when she noticed Bond staring at the chart pinned to the foot of her bed. "Jesus, how many middle names does one woman actually need? Hey, I always thought that M was just a randomly assigned intial. I never knew it stood for-" M cut him off, glaring at him. Her expression told Bond clearly that she wasn't joking.
"One more word, I'll have you killed. We've been through this before. Last time it was a threat; now it's a promise. Anyway, the Marrion part was my mother's name, I'll give you that, but it's only my...third name, I think. And you knew all that before, anyway. We've been here before. Different time and place, but freakishly similar situation. You already knew my real name, as does everyone in that waiting room by now."
"Yeah, sorry about that," Bond put a hand to the back of his neck, something he always did when he got kind of nervy. "Still, I think it suits you, the name Ev-"
"I just need to say the word and you lose your job. Don't push your luck."