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Deceived

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Chapter 1 - Not so dead after all.

 

James Bond was exhausted as he entered his apartment after attending M's funeral. He never thought that feeling pain could be so exhausting. He still beat himself about the fact that he had been unable to save her. It was crazy, unbelievable even; he could save the world from nuclear disaster, but he had been unable to save the woman he loved. Thanks to Olivia Mansfield, code name M, the world's greatest Double-O and notorious womanizer had learned what love truly was.

 

Bond had many regrets in his life, but his biggest regret was that he had not been able to tell her that he loved her, really loved her; as he had never loved any woman ever before.

 

Our time on earth isn't forever and yet we're arrogant enough to think it is.

 

A drink and a shower was what he needed right now, and as he went to the bathroom, images of M swirled around in his head. No matter how much James tried, he couldn't forget her. No matter how much he tried, the events of what happened at Skyfall haunted him.

 

As the hot water rolled down his back, he closed his eyes. As he knew it would, the images of her bleeding in his arms came flashing back in his mind. Why hadn't he been able to save her? He should have been able to save her. She was the reason why he wanted to wake up in the morning, and now she was gone. His right hand made a fist and he punched one of the walls in front of him so hard he bruised his knuckles. It hurt sure, but now at least it wasn't pain caused by the loss of someone he loved. Maybe it was time for him to end it all once and for all. Death would be a release. A bullet in his head… fast and easy. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing… half of the espionage world espionage wants me dead anyway. The reason for me to move has been take away from me forever so why can't I just join her, he thought. As he stepped in the shower.

 

The thought stayed with him while he showered until he turned off the water before stepping out of the shower; until he finally he brushed it aside. She wouldn't want to him to do it. She left him her beloved Bulldog, she kept on her desk for he a reason, and it wasn’t for him to commit suicide. James put on his bathrobe and returned to the living room, and sat on the couch.

 

James was so lost in his thoughts, and the suddenly tempting idea of killing himself that he hadn't noticed the envelope on the floor near the door. It was only when he stood up to pour himself a drink and fetch his gun that he took notice of it.

 

He took the few steps to the door and bent down to pick up the envelope, before opening the door to see if the mysterious messenger was still somewhere around, but of course there was no one to be seen so, he closed the door again and looked down at the missive. At first sight there was nothing unusual to it.

 

When he flipped the envelope over to see if something was written on the front, he only saw his name written in beautiful and familiar handwriting. When he recognized it, his heart stopped beating for a moment; no this couldn't be. This was impossible. Then his heartbeat increased considerably as he felt a wave of rage course through his entire body.

 

Bond opened the envelope rather forcefully.

 

Meet me, you know where as soon as possible.

 

If this is who I think is, there is going to be some explaining to do! James thought.

 

He dressed without thinking. Yeah, he was still an Double-O, but the current M, Gareth Mallory, had given him a few days off. He said he couldn't use an agent in such a bad shape and state of mind; that he'd get killed at the first opportunity. It never occurred to Mallory that it was exactly what James was after.

 

So Bond put on a pair of blue jeans, a pullover and a pair of sneakers. Anyone crossing his path on his way to his meeting would never guess what he does for a living, let alone believe he was the great 007. He realized that he'd forgot to put on his jacket in his haste when the cold night air hit him. The cold air was a welcome freshness for his state of mind, because the more he approached the meeting point, the angrier he became.

 

If his suspicious were right, then he didn't really know what he would do. He would definitely be happy and relieved, but he right now, those two specific feelings were pressured down by a mountain of anger, sadness, and pain.

 

About ten minutes later, his suspicious were confirmed.

 

"Bond."

 

“I take it being dead wasn’t to your tastes after all.” Each one of his words was like a stab in the heart.    

 

Of all the reactions she would expect him to have, none of them was this one.

 

"Knock it off, Bond. You've no right to snap at me like that."

 

"You're not my boss anymore. Gareth Mallory is my boss now."

 

"Touché."

 

"Why? How? You died in my arms for Christ’s sake, I felt your life leave you! It nearly killed me.”

 

"I had no choice."

 

"That's an easy answer."

 

"Really, Bond… I promise you, when I did what I did it was my only option."

 

James didn't respond, he just looked at her, suddenly aware that this was really real. was alive a standing in front of him. He's piercing blue eyes were suddenly shining with tears.

 

The sight before her broke her heart. Never in her life would she have thought she would witness a crying James Bond. She had to do something. She'd really hurt him a great deal apparently. For the first time since she knew him, Olivia Mansfield realized how much impact she had on the man.

 

"Oh, my dear boy, come here."

 

He approached her slowly, and she took him in her arms she felt him begin to cry the moment his head lay on her shoulder. No words escaped her, she just held him against her.

 

When his sobs subsided, she spoke in a soft voice, "I'm truly sorry, James, I never intended to hurt you like this."

 

"Then why?" He wasn't sure why the question escaped him. It didn't really matter why she had chosen to do what she had done; the deed was done. But that choice had left him with an invisible, open wound that would take a long time to heal; if it ever did.

 

"I need your help."

 

There she was again, a few minutes of tenderness and then back in hard bitch mode.

 

"Mallory gave me a few days off," he said dryly. If she could switch attitudes so fast, so could he.

 

"Perfect."

 

"And why exactly should I help you, ma'am?"

 

"For Queen and country, Bond as always."

 

To be continued...