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Chapter Text

Chapter 1: POV James

With a gentle purr, the Aston Martin DB5 lulled lazily down a nameless Italian coastline. The sun was just beginning to set, and the sun glistened against the sheen on the vintage vehicle, spreading distorted colors of pink and purple across its gleaming silver coat. For once in his adult life, the driver, a recently retired 00’ … had no plans to look over his shoulder…someone had helped him see that he had something better to do with his time.

His thoughts were politely interrupted when a hand gently began to massage the back of his neck. James tore his eyes away from the road to catch a glimpse of his companion, who had inched her way across the leather seats to reach him. As their eyes met, his stoic disposition quickly melted away, and he kissed the top of her head.

“How’s the view?” he whispered in her hair.

He still wasn’t sure how she managed it, but Madeline Swan had stolen his heart. On paper their relationship made little sense. She was a doctor. He was a blunt instrument. What the outside world could not see, was that when she saw him, James knew she saw herself reflecting back at her. She was his mirror, and the only person who could understand him.

As the sun dipped below the waterline, James pulled their car into the nearby Matera, where hotel arrangements had been made for them.

James extended his hand to Madeleine as she stepped out of the car.  

“Where are you taking me?“ she asked with a grin.

“To bed, I hope.”

With a mischievous smile, James led her with around the vehicle to tip the valet and open the passenger door. Together, the couple walked arm in arm into the hotel lobby, teasing and stealing kisses as they meandered through the courtyards.

Their hotel suite was magnificent. The balcony had a gorgeous view of the village square. The couple was also pleased to see the staff had gifted them with chilled champagne.

With sleepy eyes, Madeleine released James’ hand, and made her way towards the vanity to begin her nightly routine. They had been traveling together for months, and James had grown used to her evening rituals. When they were not otherwise occupied, James loved to watch Madeleine remove her rings, wipe off her makeup, and run a comb through her hair. With each layer she peeled off, not that she wore much makeup to begin with, James felt that she was revealing more and more of herself to him. It was a shame that he would miss her routine, but tonight, he had better plans in mind.

“Darling I wouldn’t get ready for bed just yet. I have something to show you.”

Through the mirror's reflection, Madeleine's eyes darted to meet his. “Oh? I thought you wanted to take me to bed?” she quipped in response.  

“Not just yet, but do keep that red dress on, it suits you.”

Madeleine's interest was piqued, so she replaced the choker around her neck.

"Lead the way, Mr. Bond."

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: POV Madeleine

Arm in arm, the couple weaved through the busy cobblestone streets, which were still heavily occupied with locals. They would occasionally stop to peek through a shop window, steal a passionate kiss or pause to catch their breath. They seem to be walking aimlessly through the buildings until it dawned on Madeleine that James was leading her someplace. Carefully, Madeleine began to take stock of the circumstances before her. James' palms were beginning to sweat, his free hand was fidgeting with the flap of his jacket pocket, and with each passing moment, the church steeple at the center of Matera grew larger and larger.

Then, as if confirming her suspicions, the church clock tower struck 12 midnight.

Madeleine decided to break their tension with a familiar joke. “A religious man? Are we leaving this life of sin for the priesthood?”

James said nothing, but smiled and raised her left hand to his mouth for a tender kiss.

Madeleine was worried now. He always had something smart to say. “James, you have my attention.”

James took both hands in his, and turned to face her.

"But do I have your heart?” he whispered nervously. 

Madeleine's heart skipped a beat in her chest. His ocean blue eyes seared into hers. James was being serious. For fear her voice might falter, she took a deep breath and whispered her response.

”I never took you for the marrying kind?”

He laughed at this. 

“Well truth be told, I’m not the marrying kind, but you were the one who taught me that I always have a choice…and…I choose you, and whatever course you are charting. You have my heart, Madeleine. So I ask you again. Do I have yours?”

Madeleine’s mouth slowly curved into a smile, and with that smile, relief and joy seemed to envelop them both.

“Yes. You have all of me.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: POV James

The ceremony was much shorter than either of them expected. But then again the wedding itself was entirely unexpected. With two nuns serving as the witnesses, the couple’s nuptials, led by an aging priest, lasted a total of 10 minutes.

The bride and groom couldn’t make it back to the hotel quick enough. In traditional wedding fashion, James swept his bride into his arms and carried her across the threshold. Quickly matching his enthusiasm, Madeline kissed him passionately and began to frantically fumble with his tie and jacket. They howled with laughter as they clumsily bumped through the door frame, leaving a trail of shoes and clothing along the way. Back on her own two feet, Madeline impatiently pushed the two of them against the room’s support beam. She reached behind James’ back to peel off the suspenders, and his tailored dress shirt. With a cheeky grin, she tossed the shirt to the floor.

In between kisses, Madeleine whispered in James' ear.

“I have never met a man who wore more clothes than me.”

“Oh, are you in a hurry, then?” he teased. 

Madeleine silenced his playful quip with another passionate kiss. Her mouth was hot and greedy against his. She gently tugged at his bottom lip, and tangled her hands through his hair. James opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, and felt the taste of her tongue. Desperate for air, Madeleine broke their kiss, panting and whispering various French words he had never heard before.

“Je t'aime”

That one, he knew. Between kisses and caresses, James whispered it back to her, “Je t'aime”

In earnest, he felt like his heart was about to burst. In one swift motion, Madeleine’s dress slid off her shoulders and pooled to the floor with the other discarded clothes. Skillfully, James lifted his bride off of her feet and wrapped her legs around his waist. James’ knees nearly buckled from the anticipation, but in three easy paces, he had successfully led them to bed. As their breathing quickened, James pulled her body closer to him. He laid slow, soft, open mouth kisses just under her jaw, causing her back to arch with anticipation. In an instant, their limbs and souls began to intertwine. For the remaining hours of their wedding night, they made love and made promises to one another. In that storm of sweat, sloppy kisses and sweet exchanges, James Bond swore fealty to the only living women he felt he could trust. Once their bodies were spent, they slept, wrapped in each other’s arms.

A few hours later, and much to James’ dismay, the sun began to peek its head over the horizon. James rolled over to look at his new bride. A piece of her hair was trailing across her forehead. With a finger, he quickly brushed it aside, and kissed her gently on the lips. Careful not to wake her, he peeled off the covers and made for the balcony. It was still dark out, and the villagers were not yet awake. James watched Matera slowly come to life.

After a few minutes, James felt the air shift behind him as the balcony door swung open. The pitter patter of Madeline’s bare feet were unmistakable, and he breathed a sigh of relief as her arms encircled him from behind. 3 months they’d been traveling the world together, and it still surprised James how her mere presence could lift his spirits.

They said nothing for a while.

“Good morning Mrs. Bond” he whispered. 

“I like the sound of that, but I think I'll keep Dr. Swann," Madeleine countered gently. 

James wasn’t the least bit affronted by her reply. From the moment they met, it was clear that Madeleine knew her own mind.

“Fine then, Madeleine, what shall I call you?” James resigned. 

Madeleine thought for a moment, then said, “This morning? I think wife will suffice. How are you this morning, mari?”

“Terribly sore. Well done, you.”

Madeleine’s arms squeezed around him playfully. "Would you say married life suits you, Mr. Bond?”

James let out a chuckle and replied, “Darling, any life with you would suit me just fine.”

James felt her gently nibble on the exposed skin below, and she whispered, "Do you know the worst thing about you?”

“My sense of humor?”

“No, it’s your charm.”

“Come here, then and let me charm you properly.”

James gently removed her arms from around his chest and pulled her close for a proper kiss. Without shoes, Madeleine had to stand on tiptoe to reach his lips. This amused James thoroughly, so he picked her by the waist to alleviate her struggle. After a moment or two, James lowered her back down and gazed into her blue eyes.

“James, when did you know?”

“Know what?” he asked curiously.

“When did you know that you loved me?”

James pondered for a moment, then replied, “The night we spent at L’American.”

Madeleine’s face went completely ashen.

“Merde! I was completely drunk.”

Amused by her embarrassment, James burst into a fit of laughter. “I found your rejection oddly ... attractive.”

Madeleine shook her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe that I made such an impression.”

Not wishing to torment her further, James gathered himself, and took her back into his arms. Their eyes returned to the balcony view of Matera. They were quiet for a moment, before James returned the question.

“And what of you for me? When did you know?”

Madeleine did not miss a beat. “When you begged me to look away from my father’s tape…there was …something in your eyes..”

James asked another question. "Madeleine. Why are we here, in Matera?”

“Vesper. She’s buried at the acropolis.”

“I know where she is buried," James responded briskly. 

Sensing his discomfort, Madeleine turned in his arms to face him. “Can you forgive her, for us?”

“I left her behind a long time ago… I belong with you now.”

James could tell she was not satisfied with that answer Madeleine pulled out from his embrace, and walked toward the edge of the balcony. Gently, she said, "As long as we are looking over our shoulder, the past is not dead. You have to let her go. Even if it's hard." 

"You mean, if we're to have a future?"

Madeleine turned her head slightly, and nodded in agreement.

James: “So if I do this …and then?”

Madeleine: “I’ll tell you all of my secrets.”

James: “Ok….”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: POV James

James was in shock. Blofeld was dead, and by his hands. Madeleine was involved somehow, but to what end? While Moneypenny and Q were squabbling like chickens, sifting through files in search of details on the deadly nanobot weapon, James sat staring at his infected hands. Q assured James that the serum Madeleine had exposed him to was harmless to him, or anyone else, as it had successfully found and terminated its intended target.

But James had to admit that the experience with Blofeld shook him up. It wasn’t his mysterious demize that mortified the retired agent, it was the secret Blofeld revealed just before he died. Like a nasty, manipulative snake, he whispered something that chilled James to the very bone.

“It was all me, James, Madeleine didn’t do a thing," 

Once the realization sunk in, James felt like he had been shot in the chest. How could he have been so blind? The bastard planned the ambush, played on James’ insecurities, and pushed him to reject and abandon the love of his life.

His mind flooded with fury. Grasping for any mortal creature to blame, James reached for the flesh around Blofeld’s neck, and prepared to choke the life out of him. To the author of all his pain, James bid Blofeld goodbye.

His death was a relief, but not a cure for the remorse and confusion James would feel in later days. Madeleine had not betrayed him. But James was certain he betrayed her.

His musings were interrupted when Moneypenny asked, “Bond, do you know where she is?”

Madeleine was running, and he knew where. Unwilling to reveal her safe house, James deflected the question, determined to sort out these mysteries on his own accord.

“No, I don't know her at all.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: POV Madeleine 

With sweaty palms, Dr. Swann prepared to board the two hour flight to Oslo. This could very well be a mistake, but for Madeleine there was no question, she had to leave London. It was easy to diagnose her symptoms. Survival mode: Flight. She was likely in a state of shock. No emotions , she coached herself. Madeleine could not afford to make poor choices. She could not afford to behave emotionally, like she did in the prison. There was too much at stake. 

Unable to rest or relax her mind, Madeleine allowed herself to sift through the recent memories that bombarded her senses. Just once more , she thought, and then, I will put these phantoms behind me . 

Faces from my past, l'homme masqué, Blofeld…James. 

Back at the prison, she recalled James’ unmistakable voice rounding the corner. As their eyes met, recognition set it, and her former lover stopped dead in his tracks. It was clear he was stunned to see her. 

Before she had time to take another breath, James had all but disappeared, and in his place stood the pompous and arrogant suit she remembered him to be upon their first meeting. Bond, the blunt instrument, quickly plastered on his award winning smile and extended his hand in greeting. “Dr. Swann, good afternoon.”

Madeleine felt cold. Was this how it was going to be? Was he going to pretend?  Despite her training, and intimate history with the man before her, she felt entirely unsure of how to label this behavior. So, she kept her hands still, and did not make a move. After all, she knew she could not risk it. 

Madeleine stared him dead in the face, and gave a curt reply. “Mr. Bond.” 

Not a moment too soon, Madeleine heard the security alarm blare. The cell doors opened, and the unwilling interrogators shuffled their way inside the cell space. With a metallic clank, the doors slammed behind them, and for the first time in five years, Madeleine found herself alone with James Bond. Physically, they were mere inches apart, and yet, Madeleine sensed an immeasurable void between them. They were like strangers. 

Trembling now, the doctor strained to maintain her decorum. As Blofeld’s chained chariot scraped its way towards the interview table, two thoughts competed for dominance in her mind. One, I will have to kill a man. Two, There will be no escape for me.

In a final attempt to regain her composure, Madeleine concentrated her efforts on controlling her body language. It didn’t make much difference though, because the suit by her side had taken notice. 

“You're shaking?” he observed. 

A chink in his armour. Was he concerned for me? 

James instinctively reached out a hand to take her wrist. 

Madeleine felt her heart sink to the pit of her stomach. No! Don't touched me!

Quickly, but too late, the doctor ripped her arm out of his grasp.

Shocked by her rejection, James asked, “What’s wrong?” 

Realizing her mission had all but failed, Madeleine called for the observing agents to open the doors. 

I’m not going to wait around for this. 

But James was insistent. “Madeleine. Madeleine! What’s the matter?” he repeated again.

 “James... you don’t know what this is. Don't make me do this. Please.”

Unnerved and dumbfounded, James asked “Where are you going?”

 “Home.”

If he ever really loved her, she pondered, he would know what that message meant. 

With a jolt, the plane’s landing gear had hit the tarmac. She had arrived in Oslo. 

We will survive. Madeleine would make sure of it. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: James POV

The Toyota Land Cruiser squeaked to a halt at the gate.

Before shutting off the engine, James took stock of the conditions surrounding the waterside property. The vegetation was dense. One road in. One road out. Very secluded. Intentional.

Clever girl, he thought.

The MI6 agent had no reason to anticipate danger, and yet, James carried in his chest an odd sense of dread.

Or was it regret?

Immediately, he shook it off.

James shoved the car door open, and stuck one leg out. Let’s get this over with, he relented. Just before he slammed the door behind him, the agent felt another warning nag at him in the back of his mind. He eyed the glove compartment where he kept his firearm.

It’s just old instincts. You don’t need it, you fool.

How could he ever face Madeleine with a weapon in hand?

The memory of one of M’s more painful rebukes gnawed at him. He remembered a humiliating MI-6 cock up, when she berated him for his brutality. A younger, more arrogant Bond mocked her frustration, with a smart-ass quib.

“You want me to be half monk, half hitman?”

M retaliated with a fiery dart of her own.

“Any thug can kill! I need you to take your ego out of the equation. Exercise some judgement, for God’s sake.”

James had since developed enough self-awareness to admit, he had been a cold, heartless bastard. That’s what they had trained him to be.

But in recent years, his ego, his insecurities, and his emotions had cost him dearly. M was right, James had to be both people. The problem was, that line between monk and hitman was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish. It was Madeleine that taught him that he always had a choice. He didn’t have to be a machine. He could be a man.

But this man did not know what was waiting for him at the end of the dirt road. So, James reached into the glove compartment to collect the weapon.

A little extra caution never hurt anyone…

James circumnavigated the structure before settling on an entry point. The yellow cottage appeared vacant. He approached the sliding glass door at the back. He was surprised to find it unlocked.

Did she know I was coming?

James pushed the door open just an inch, and peaked inside. No movement in the house. With his right hand, James reached inside his jacket, and slowly upholstered the PPK. Pushing his body against the cracked door, James moved silently through the door frame and into the sitting room. He scanned the kitchen and dining room for any signs of foul play. This wasn’t an ordinary house, he thought.

There were no pictures on the walls.
No dishes in the sink.
No notes magnetized to the refrigerator.

James had not taken five more paces before he heard a voice from above him.

“Is that for me?” the voice inquired.

Madeleine's voice. 

Then, everything clicked. This was her childhood home. The home she meant to bring him to, so many years ago. Today, it was her safe house.

 A combination of shock and embarrassment washed over him, and he quickly re holstered his weapon.

“No.” He said curtly. The only threat here is me.

“Then why did you come?," she asked. 

“Because you told me to.”

 Madeleine slowly descended down the spiral staircase, and said, “I didn’t think you would remember.”

“I remember everything...”

She was wearing white trousers and a white tank. Her shoulders were uncovered and her neckline was exposed. As if that wasn’t enough to leave James completely stunned, Madeleine had her hair pulled back, and he could see every line and every curve on her face. Madeleine did not look particularly happy to see him, in fact, James noted that her body language seemed somewhat hostile. This was her home, and her territory. He was just a guest here.

The discomfort between them did not matter. Regardless of the outcome of the mission, James was determined to amend a much more personal error. Five years ago, he broke Madeleine’s heart, and cut her out of his life. In truth, he had come here to tell her he was wrong about her.

God, how could I have let her go.

-“You need to tell me who gave you the poison, Madeleine?

When Madeleine made no move to respond, he continued.

-“You should know that he is dead.”

-“Good”

-“He told me you didn’t betray me.”

Madeleine met his gaze, and responded, “I understand you are not built to trust people”

-“Neither are you”

-“Then we were fools for trying.”

James’ heart stopped in his chest. Did she regret our time together?

“I wanted to...” James admitted. 

He paused for a brief moment, noting the long streaks of evening sun touching the skin on her face. Suddenly, every other responsibility on his shoulders felt weightless. All that mattered was Madeleine.

She took no measures to speak, so James went on.

“I don’t know if you wanted me to come here, or why you tried to kill Blofeld or who gave you the poison to do it, or how long you have been working with them... But I do know… for what felt like five minutes of life, I wanted everything with you. And it's not because I didn’t trust. It's just that feeling…”

Madeleine's eyes, once fixed on the floor, slowly made their way up to meet his.

“Now, I’ve come here to find out who gave you the poison. But I’m not going to leave here without you knowing, that I have loved you, and I will love you. And I do not regret a single moment of my life that led me to you…Except when I put you on that train…”

I laid it all out … I love her.

With this heartfelt declaration, James saw her eyes began to glisten.

“Do you know the worst thing about you?” Madeleine queried. 

He couldn’t believe it. A familiar joke they had shared a million years ago, and she was quoting it back to him. Encouraged, James began to close the space between them. He took two steps toward her. She did not retreat.

In a playful tone, he suggested the obvious.

“My timing”

“Don’t...”

“My sense of humor?”

“…Don’t…”

Tentatively, James reached out his hand and pulled Madeleine’s body close to his. Despite her palpable discomfort, she did not resist his touch, and she did not pull away. Instead, she slowly leaned in. With the sun setting behind them, their lips drew nearer and nearer to each other.

“What, then?” James asked.

Madeleine tried to muster out a response, but James had that twinkle in his eye, and cut her off before she could finish.

“-You look incredible.”

All at once, the broken lovers collapsed into each other’s arms and shared a feverish kiss. In this embrace, James attempted to convey all the feelings he had harbored for her while they had been separated. For him, this brief kiss meant forgiveness, longing, and happiness like he had never known in his adult life. Though he wasn’t entirely sure of the depths of her feelings, he didn’t mind too much. Madeleine was here, and she was kissing him back. Nothing else mattered.

Suddenly, James thought he heard tiny footsteps coming from the landing directly above them. In an instant, he tore his face away from Madeleine’s, and pushed her protectively behind his back. In the blink of an eye, James, the charmer, was gone.

His eyes quickly locked on a little figure sitting at the top of the staircase.

It was a child, no more than 5 years old, with a mop of dark hair and big blue eyes. 

My eyes. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Madeleine POV

This was it. 

Madeleine had to make a choice, to love the man before her, or to cut him off completely.

In a flash of warning and nostalgia , she remembered a line her father used to write in the love letters he composed for her mother. 

“I love you a little, a lot, passionately, not at all.” 

Over the last few years, Madeleine figured she and James were both products of the machines that made them. 

Madeleine’s father made her into a romantic, and a realist. What a wicked combination. 

James’ tragic occupation made him into the blunt instrument Her Majesty needed him to be. 

When it came to building meaningful relationships, Madeleine realized they had been fools for trying. Neither of them were capable of trusting others. The only person she had to blame for her heart break was herself. It was her naivety, not his rejection, that was her downfall. 

Just as she was ready to push him away, the setting sun flashed across his forehead. In his eyes, Madeleine caught a glimpse of the man he had shown to her, all those years ago in Matera. He looked… human. 

Suddenly, Madeleine found herself leaning into him. The space between them was disintegrating, and without logic or reasoning, the two shared a kiss. For a brief moment, James and Madeleine become lost in a dreamworld of their own making. Was it the way electricity coursed through her body when he touched her, or the glimpse of humanity she recognized in his eyes? Whatever it was, she abandoned all objectivity, and threw her arms around his neck. Just as James opened his mouth to deepen their kiss, he tore himself away from her. 

Like a light switch, their dreamworld dissolved, and reality took its place. James whipped his head in the direction of the landing, where a little girl stared at the couple in disapproval. Even behind James’s back, Madeleine could tell he was severely caught off guard.  

Madeleine fretted in silence. Even if she did love James, and she was sure she did, he could never know the child sitting at the top of the stairs was his. For all intents and purposes, the child she carried for 9 months did not officially exist, and Madeleine intended to keep it that way. 

When the child was born, Madeleine created a series of fake identities, passports, birth certificates and immunization records to make Mathilde moveable, but virtually untraceable. There is no mention of Commander James Bond on any of these records or documents. 

If anyone knew this child belonged to the former 007, she and Mathilde would spend their entire lives looking over their shoulders. 

She simply could not risk it. So no, James could never know he had unwittingly fathered this child. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: POV James 

After tucking Mathilde into bed, Madeleine led James down the stairs. She must have sensed James’ curiosity about the little girl, so in a cool and casual tone, Madeleine addressed the elephant in the room.

Madeleine: “She’s not yours” 

James felt a bit deflated. 

If not my child, then whose? He wondered.

James: “But…but, the blue eyes?”

More definitively this time, Madeleine turned her head over her shoulder to look him in the eye

Madeleine: “She’s not yours” 

James: “Ok.”

Madeleine: “I want to show you something.”

Reading her body language, James quickly registered her firm correction as controlled, but unmistakable fear. Madeleine knew all too well what it meant to be the daughter of an assassin. If James did acknowledge the child as his own, he would expose them both to immense danger. 

Mathilde was his daughter. James didn’t need Madeleine to spell it out for him. The truth was written all over the walls of this safe house. But if it made her mother feel better, he would play along with her. 

Madeleine led James down the stairs to her father’s secret panic room. 

In hushed tones, Madeleine conveyed the extent of her association to Lyutsifer Safin. When she was a young girl, Safin came to her Norway home, and murdered her mother. In her flight to escape, she fell through some ice but was saved by the same man who attacked her.

“He says we are connected now,” she recalled. 

She showed James a collection of maps, photographs, and files of the Safin family, and Mr. White’s mission to dispose of them. She explained that Safin’s attack on her childhood home was in retaliation for the death of his own parents. As the deceptions, lies and motives unfolded themselves, James realized that Mr. White, Blofeld, Spectre, and by extension, M from MI6, had created a monster so covert, and sinister, that to neutralize him would require connections well out of the government's reach. What scared James most of all was Safin’s obsession with Madeleine. 

In light of this new evidence, James deduced that Safin was a sociopath with a God complex. Safin didn’t just want to watch the world burn, he wanted to fix it. 

Men who want to play God cannot be reasoned with. They must be eradicated. 

Madeleine: “Are you going to find him?”

James: “There are a thousand reasons why we need to find this man. You’ve just given me a reason to kill him.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: POV James 

In the summer months in Norway, the sun did not set. With the light streaming in through the blinds, James was sure he would not sleep much, so he situated himself on the couch to stand guard. Even if they were in such a remote location, the 00’ felt there wasn’t much room for neglegence. 

After a moment or two, Madeleine emerged from the hallway with an extra blanket folded under her arm. She had pulled her hair out of the loose bun, and had removed her shoes. James watched her casual movements as she made her way to the sitting room. Without meeting his eyes, she dropped the blanket at his feet. 

Madeleine: “I’m sorry I do not have better sleeping arrangements for you. It’s a small house.”

James: “I hadn’t noticed.”

James hoped she would linger in the sitting room for a moment, but Madeleine made no moves to stay. She turned on her heel and padded down the hall without another word. 

In one swift motion, James sat up in his chair and followed after her. Madeleine must have heard  him coming. When James rounded the corner, he saw her waiting at her door with her back facing him. 

Madeleine: “What are you doing James?”

James: “You’ve got your armor back on, don’t you.” 

Madeleine said nothing.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, James lost his patience. He took her by the shoulders, and turned her around to face him. 

James: “Madeleine, please look at me!”

Her eyes were shut, and her brow was furrowed, but James could see she was fighting back tears. When she opened her eyes, she shoved him away. 

Madeleine: “I’m sorry James, but that kiss was a mistake.”

James: “Is that what you’re calling it? A mistake?” he asked incredulously.

Madeleine: “James, you can call it whatever you want, but this… relationship ...will never work. The world has not changed. We have not changed.”

James could see that her eyes were becoming cold and clinical. He knew her tells better than anyone, this was a defense mechanism. 

James: “I don’t want to talk with Dr. Swann. Let me talk to Madeleine.”

Madeleine’s eyes bore a hole into his soul, but she said nothing.

James steadied himself with a deep breath and released his grip on her shoulders.

James: “There’s not much more I can say then, is there?” 

Madeleine: “No. Goodnight, James” 

Without another word, she pushed her way into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. 

James let out a defeated sigh, and rested his head against the white casing of the door frame. He could hear Madeleine’s muffled sobs on the other side of the door, but he made no move to enter. In his younger days, he might have insisted she let him in, but that unbridled bravado would make no appearance here tonight. 

He decided to leave her alone. She would not be forced. She would not be persuaded. Whatever her decision was concerning James Bond, she had to make it on her own terms and in her own time. 

James was about to stagger back to the sitting room, when he heard the door creek open. 

He did not look. 

He did not move. 

Finally, he felt her familiar touch reach beyond the door frame, and grasp the cuff of his shirt. Their fingers intertwined, and with impressive force Madeleine pulled James through the door and into the darkened bedroom. 

A wave of relief washed over him. 

Before his eyes could adjust to the dim lighting, James felt a pair of lips crash against his. With a muffled chuckle, he was reminded just how spirited Madeleine had been during their first few nights together, as young lovers. Not wishing to disappoint, James moved quickly to match her intensity, and pressed her back against the wall to return the passionate kiss.  

Madeleine: “I’m sorry, James. I was afraid,”  she said between kisses.

James: “Don’t be.”

He hushed her apologies with a hot, greedy kiss. Madeleine met his enthusiasm in kind, and after pausing for a breath, she tilted her head up and kissed the base of his neck. James closed his eyes to savour the moment. He could not sense where her body ended and where he began, but the neurons in his brain told him she was everywhere . 

James reveled in it. He felt her tongue inside his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair, and her arms spreading across his back and shoulders. In a moment of weakness, he felt his legs begin to quiver beneath him.

After all this time, how does she have such power over me? 

She took his face in both hands and trapped his lips in another desperate kiss. James responded immediately, opening his mouth so that she could slide her tongue against his. 

After a moment, Madeleine broke their kiss, and whispered in his ear. 

Madeleine: “I want to see you. Take your shirt off, James.” 

It was too dark to see the light in her eyes, but James remembered this side of her. Commanding. Confidant. This woman knew exactly what she wanted. 

With a chuckle. James promptly stripped off his shirt, and chucked it across the room. 

James: “Your turn now, darling.”

Bond heard Madeleine giggle in the shadows. Somehow, despite the depth of their love for each other, James sensed a hint of shyness from her. She turned around, inviting James to kiss her neck and shoulders while she peeled off her white tank top. In the dark, he let his lips linger over her porcelain skin, slowly trailing kisses down the curve of her spine. She was getting antsy. Hoping to test her patience,  James took his time, allowing his fingers a chance to explore. He touched her hair, licked the skin under her ear, and felt her body shiver under his hands as he carefully unfasten the clasp of her brasier. 

Madeleine: “Don’t play with me.”

Itching to have him closer, Madeleine turned around to face him, and James quickly lifted her off her feet.  Instinctively, she secured herself to his body by wrapping her legs around his waist. With one hand on her backside, and the other fidgeting with his belt buckle, James had waited long enough. 

Madeleine: “ Are you as scared as I am?” 

James : “No. Do you know why?”

Madeleine placed a hand on his cheek, shaking her head in reply. 

James: “Because this is it for me. This is forever.”

After a passionate kiss, his pants, along with his belt buckle, hit the floor with a dull thud. All at once, their hips collided, and Madeleine let out a slight gasp. 

Madeleine: “James!” 

James: “Have I hurt you?”

Breathing heavily, Madeleine couldn’t get a word out, so she placed a hand on his hip, to steady herself, and urged him onward. Understanding her meaning, James carried Madeleine to the bed. She was underneath him now. He kissed her tenderly, and gently guided her hips closer to his, positioning himself deeper inside her. Their movements were slow, comforting, and tender.  As he hovered over her, Madeleine kissed and caressed the skin on his shoulders and back. When the pleasure became intense, James felt her squeeze and scratch as well, which he was sure was a good sign. In Madeleine’s embrace, James felt no pain, only infinite tenderness. 

Just before she reached her peak, Madeleine craned her neck off the pillow to whisper in his ear, 

Madeleine: “Je t'aime" 

James:  “Je t'aime"

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: POV Madeleine 

It was still night, and Madeleine found herself tangled in James’ arms. She had dozed off and was hovering in and out of consciousness. After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she smiled to herself. Madeleine had to admit it; that was the best night's sleep she’d had in years, and she knew exactly why. James was here, and he was keeping her safe. 

In the protection of his arms, Madeleine let her mind wander to last night's events. Time had not dampened an ounce of the passion they felt for one another. She bit her lip as she remembered the way James lifted her off of her feet, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pinned her up against the wall. His touch was firm, passionate, yet gentle. Madeleine couldn't believe it, but there was this insatiable desire between them, like an itch demanding to be scratched. Regardless of the sheer desperation between them, Madeleine recalled the way James held her, honored her, and possessed her all at the same time. 

How did he manage it? She marveled to herself. 

While the night was still young, she had woken James up once more to make love to him again. The second time was different than their first. Heightened. Frightened. Vulnerable.

Up until this moment, their love for each other had been stifled by their mutual need to survive. But five years is a long time to deny oneself the touch of another. 

While tangled in each other's arms, James and Madeleine realized that being together was just as dangerous as being apart. No words were spoken, and as their bodies and souls intertwined, Madeleine felt James unlock that final piece of himself to her.

She saw a tear form and fall from the corner of his eye. Tenderly, Madeleine reached out her hand to gently wipe it away. 

As their breathing slowed, James collapsed alongside her, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. This time, Madeleine held him in her arms, and traced lazy circles on his bare back. Wherever her finger touched, she noticed gooseflesh would follow. His heart thundered and pounded against her naked chest. Skin on skin, Madeleine's mind began to drift, and she thought she felt the very marrow in her bones begin to melt. 

Can you die of happiness? Madeleine wondered. 

Interrupting her thoughts, James rolled onto his left side to face her. His blue eyes pierced into her soul, and he smiled. Madeleine smiled back at him, and brushed a finger along the wrinkles on forehead, and the crows feet on the corners of his eyes. The years had been kind to him. He might be a little older now, but James Bond was still heartbreakingly handsome. 

Madeleine : “How does an old man like you have such stamina?”

James : “Oh please, I’m hardly ready for retirement.”

Madeleine : “Maybe so, but I must say, I was thoroughly impressed.”

James : “Don’t I know it. You were so loud, I thought you’d wake the child.” 

Madeleine’s face burned with embarrassment as she playfully swatted at his bare chest. 

Madeleine : “I have no defense.” 

With a chuckle, James leaned forward and tenderly brushed his nose against hers. A familiar gesture from a lifetime ago. 

James : “We were making up for lost time. Nothing to be sorry for.” 

Madeleine smiled at that, and reached her head forward to capture his lips with hers. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: POV James 

------

His eyes were closed, but James wasn’t sleeping. Madeleine was snoring slightly and mumbling indiscernible French under her breath. Even with his arms wrapped around her bare torso, and a leg hooked around her hip, James felt like she was a thousand miles away. He longed to wake her, to talk to her, and to look into her eyes, but he decided against it. Instead, James kissed the back of her head, and breathed in the scent of her hair. After a few minutes, he felt her body shift slightly beneath his arms, and Madeleine woke with a start. Her eyes darted around the room, and James thought she seemed a bit disoriented. Not wishing to disturb her thoughts, James remained silent, but kept his arms securely in place around her body. Madeleine’s breathing finally slowed, and she reached her hand back to touch James’ face. 

Madeleine: “Je rêvais”

James: “Where did you go to?”

Madeleine: “Somewhere that time does not exist.”

James: “You’re here now.”

Madeleine: “James. All the time we’ve lost…"

James: “It doesn’t matter…"

Madeleine: “Will you show me what I missed?”

James flashed her a cheeky smile and pulled her on top of him. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and finally her lips. To James’ surprise, Madeleine pulled away from his kiss.

Madeleine: “No, I want to know...what happened here?”

James observed as Madeleine lifted her slender hand to touch the bruise on the bridge of his nose with her index finger. 

James: “Just a scratch"

Madeleine: “A scratch? From where?”

James: “I was in Cuba, helping Felix find the Russian scientist responsible for the poison. We were double crossed. The ship was lined with C-4, and it sank. 

Madeleine: “And Felix?”

James: “He didn’t make it...”

Sensing her anxiety, James took her hand from his face and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. Madeleine seemed comforted by this. With her free hand, she trailed a path down his leg, finally resting it on the angry, red, skin on his upper thigh.

Madeleine: “And here?” 

James: “A disagreement. A scuffle I had in Jamaica.”

Madeleine: “You lived in Jamaica?”

James: “After everything that happened in Matera, I took my sailboat and skulked off for a while. To lick my wounds.” 

Madeleine said nothing. She returned her hand to his face, tracing a finger from his earlobe, across his jaw and down below his chin. James felt a shiver go down his spine as her soft skin scraped against the stubble on his face. She searched his ice blue eyes for something. James held his breath for she would ask him next. 

Madeleine: “James, were you happy?” 

He blinked twice, and then turned his body away from her to face the opposite wall. He couldn’t look at her when he answered this stream of questions. He knew Madeleine’s probing was coming (she was a psychotherapist, after all) but he could not have predicted the emotional gut punch that would follow. It knocked the breath right out of him. 

James: “Could you ask me something … easier?” 

The 00’ heard Madeleine exhale in frustration. She was irritated with James’ weak attempt to evade her. He felt her gently caress his shoulder, and then, she rephrased the question. 

Madeleine: “Did you ever find peace?” 

James: “No. No I did not.” 

He felt Madeleine reach across his chest and pull him back towards her. 

Madeleine: “Because of me?” 

James: “Yes. And the choices I’ve made.” 

With that, Madeleine’s eyes fell, and James felt her gently touch the crown of her head to his forehead. Another familiar gesture. 

James: “And what about you? Have you been happy? Did you find some peace?”

He watched her as the gears turned inside her brain. She was trying to choose her next words carefully. 

Madeleine: “I’ve been looking over my shoulder for 5 years now. Mathilde gives me hope that someday that could change.” 

James touched her cheek in response. For a moment, the couple silently grieved for the peace that they had lost, and the happiness they did not share. No words could express that type of disappointment, and they made no attempt to communicate it verbally. Instead, they simply held each other, and promised that once they had awakened from their shared heartbreak, that they would move forward with no regrets.

As they quietly contemplated, James felt something strange brush against his hand. A bit of string had escaped from the intricate pattern of the duvet. James twisted the piece of thread between his fingers and plucked it free. Madeleine watched his movements. 

James: “You know, I just realized that I never got you a proper ring.”

He reached for her left hand, and wrapped the small strand of string around her fourth finger. 

James: "Will this suffice, for now?"

Madeleine: “James, you can’t seriously mean-"

James : “I do mean it, Madeleine.”

Madeleine was stunned at this shift in their conversation. 

Madeleine: “You don’t think we just got carried away that night?” 

James: “Not in the slightest.”

James watched as Madeleine’s eyes filled with tears.

James: “Did you think I’d forgotten?” 

Madeleine: “Not forgotten … maybe just … regretted it.”

James : “I offered you the world, and at the first test of honor, I betrayed your trust. I failed us. Not you.”

Madeleine: “We weren’t ready then.”

James: “I know, but I feel like we are ready now. We don’t need rings. We don’t need a priest or a piece of paper to prove what we already know. We love each other.” 

Completely stunned, Madeleine said nothing. James decided to take another approach. 

James: “Will you help me?”

Madeleine: “Help you with what?”

James: “With life. Trust. Staying safe. All of it.” 

Madeleine: “We’ll help each other.” 

James: “I promise.”

Madeleine: “I promise.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: POV James 

She does have your eyes. 

James’ body convulsed violently as he sputtered the excess water from his lungs. He was alive, but barely. His arms and limbs, at least what was left of them, were propped onto a stray piece of wreckage, while his head bobbed up and down over the waves of the sea. Like a child fighting sleep, he felt his conscious state slip further and further away from him. He was alive, but in a matter of minutes,  he was going to die. The 00’ would bleed out into the middle of the ocean. He felt no pain, no dread, and no regret. Madeleine was safe. Mathilde was safe. James would let the waves lull him into a peaceful sleep. There was nothing left to fight.

“It’s a good life, isn’t it?” James whispered to himself. 

It was a good life. James had done all he could with the time he had. And he regretted nothing. Just as he was ready to let go, he heard a voice…

You know I think you’re wrong. We always have a choice. 

It was Madeleine's voice. 

James’ mangled body protested, but his mind couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was right, maybe he did have another choice…?

Before James could decide his fate, darkness overtook him, and he felt his body begin to sink.  

(Beep, Beep, Beep)

James awoke with a start. Confused. Cold. Frightened. His vision cleared, and James observed a series of tubes inserted into his wrist, around his nose, and into his groin. 

Where am I?

James sat up and attempted to untangle himself from the tubes and wires, but felt pain and numbness in his lower legs, particularly on the right side. He pulled back the blanket to investigate the damage. Just beneath the knee, James Bond could see his leg had been badly damaged. He was covered in bandages. The little skin that was exposed was seven different shades of black and blue. He attempted to wiggle his toes on his right foot, and felt … nothing. 

Jesus Christ. What’s happened to me?

Disoriented, James tore the tubes from his wrist, and flicked the pulse oximeter from his index finger to the floor. The machines protested immediately. 

Nurses and doctors suddenly plowed their way into the hospital room. When they cast their eyes on a conscious, and cognizant, patient, they relaxed slightly. Finally, a tall balding man, in a white lab coat, entered the room.

“Commander Bond, you’re awake and lucky to be alive.” 

Immediately, James did not like him.

“I can’t say I agree with you. Where am I?” James grumbled.

The doctor ignored James’ prickly demeanor, and scribbled something in the nearby chart. 

“You’re in the ICU, welcome to the British Defense Support Unit in Singapore.”

“Where is my team? My family?”

“Your friends are fine. Let’s worry about them later.”

James was flustered with the doctor’s dismissal.

“I need to get in contact with Q, he has some details on my -”

“We have been made aware of your recent virus exposure. MI-6 has given us clear instructions on your treatment, Commander Bond. You are doing remarkably well, now that you’ve been given the antidote.”

Bond was flabbergasted. 

“An antidote!?”

The doctor ignored Bond’s surprise, and continued writing in his chart without making eye contact. 

The doctor continued, “Commander Bond, it would be better to let you rest for now. We will discuss the remainder of your treatment in a few hours.”

“For fucks sake! You can’t just leave me in the dark. I have information, I need to be debriefed -'' 

“Fine then, you can start your debriefing with a psychiatrist -”

Without another word, the white coat padded across the room to open the door. 

James recognized his visitor immediately.  It was Madeleine. Tired, disheveled, but still effortlessly beautiful, Madeleine rushed past the doctor to close the space between them.

“James!”

Before she could reach out and touch him, James remembered Safin’s serum and panicked.

“No, don't touch me!”

Madeleine froze, looking frightened and dejected.

“James, what’s the matter?” 

Still in the room, the doctor interjected, “Commander Bond, you don’t need to be afraid. You’ve been quarantined for 3 weeks, and you have been administered the antidote. All nanobots have been neutralized.” 

James eyed the doctor suspiciously, then searched Madeleine’s eyes for confirmation. 

“Madeleine, are you sure it’s gone?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Tentatively, James extended an arm to her. Madeleine threw herself into them immediately, indifferent to the tubes and wires that covered his face. She kissed his cheeks, his forehead, and finally his lips. 

Clearly uncomfortable, the doctors and nurses dismissed themselves and left the couple alone. 

Between kisses, and caresses, Madeleine whispered into his ear.

“I love you. I love you, ” she repeated, almost like a prayer. 

“I love you too. Let me look at you.” James took her by the shoulders, so he could examine Madeleine properly. Her eyes were swollen, and her cheeks were splotchy and tear stained. 

“Are those tears for me?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Oui, je pensais que tu étais mort.”

“I’m torn to bits, but I'm not dead.”

“Are you in pain?” she asked, her voice full of anxiety.

“Nothing a morphine drip can’t fix,” he quibbed. 

 “James, be serious.” she answered quickly. 

James smiled at this, and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. 

“...I can’t feel my right leg,” James admitted, and he watched Madeleine’s face fall.

It was clear she did not know what to say, so James chose to change the subject. 

“Where is Mathilde?” he asked. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: POV Madeleine 

The doctors and nurses quickly realized that visiting hours did not apply to her. Madeleine stayed by James’ bedside morning, noon and night, only leaving to shower, pick up food, or retrieve her daughter from the nursery on base. 

James’ injuries were extensive, and his recovery would take weeks if not months. In that time, Madeleine made quiet, careful arrangements for the three of them to continue James’ recovery in London, when he was well enough to travel. The naval base was efficient, but James was growing more frustrated by the day. Nobody, not even Q or Mallory, could have prepared Madeleine for how terrible a patient Commander Bond would be. In Madeleine’s presence, James was cordigal but prickly to hospital staff. Once his caretakers were out of sight, James was padding, or rather, hobbling down hallways, trying to recover a shred of his independence.

As a psychiatrist, Madeleine found his male ego absolutely fascinating. As sensible woman, Madeleine was absolutely furious with him.

In the time they spent between surgeries and recovery, Madeleine never attempted to explain the nature of their familial dynamic to anyone. People were quick to assume, but polite enough to refrain from asking further questions or details. This was a conversation neither James or Madeleine felt fit enough to address at the present time. She was his fiancé … there was a string on her finger to prove it. 

Besides being James’ fiancé, Madeleine was also a mother, and she quickly found hospitals were not conducive places for young children. So, Mathilde frequented the nursery situated on base. Each day, when daycare was over, the child would excitedly burst through the hospital doors, and dump her backpack onto James’ bed. It didn’t matter if Bond was sleeping or awake, Mathilde would tell him all about the friends she had made at school, and the books her teacher read to her during rug time. Madeleine detected a slight language barrier between James and Mathilde (French was not his first language), but that did not stop the two of them from getting to know each other. Mathilde kissed him, hugged him, sat with him on his squeaky hospital bed, and told him stories as she flipped through the pages of her coloring book. There was an immeasurable love growing between the pair. If Madeleine were a shallow woman, she might feel the slightest bit jealous. But how could she be jealous when she saw just how much James and Mathilde offered one another?  

On a not so special day, after what was likely James’ fifth reconstructive surgery, Mathilde rushed into the hospital room, and stunned both her parents.

“Papa, ta jambe va mieux?” she asked innocently. 

James was speechless. Madeleine was overcome.  

Mathilde had addressed him so nonchalantly, so matter of fact, as if calling James, “ papa ” was as natural to her as breathing. And she was right. Mathilde needed no explaination, and she certainly did not need permission. James was her father . 

It was as clear as day. 

Back to his senses, James turned to Madeleine, and searched her eyes for confirmation.

“Did she just call me - ?”

“-Oui,” Madeleine responded with tears dripping down her cheeks.

Growing impatient, as toddlers do, Mathilde. climbed onto James’ cot, and addressed him a second time. 

“Papa, pourquoi maman est-elle triste ?”

“Don’t worry darling, she’s not sad at all …”