Disclaimer: This is slash fanfiction, and alludes to male/male love. If you don’t like that sort of stuff, may I suggest you go back to learning how to use the mouse properly so that you won’t click on links like this anymore.
I don’t own any of the people you recognize, and unlike Sony, I won’t even pretend to. They belong to MGM, and you can find more info from their website and also at the Ian Fleming Foundation website. I’m just writing stuff for free, because I like getting email about it - hint, hint. And frankly, even if I did own them, I’d probably still write fan fiction because it’s so much damn fun!
And respectful worship on bended knee to the writings and stylings of Len Deighton, author of many fabulous novels on the intriguing art of espionage.
All quotes in Gaeilge (unless otherwise noted) are seanfhocal (proverbs) taken from the Daltaí na Gaeilge Daltaí Seanfhocal Archive. Daltaí na Gaeilge, meaning “Students of the Irish Language,” is a non-profit organization dedicated to promoting and teaching the Irish language. However, the first quote is a line from the traditional Irish tune, “Moll Dubh A’Ghleanna”/ “Dark Moll of the Valley.”
Ó imigh uiam ‘s nach pill go brách orm!
Depart from me and do not come again!
It was just a matter of logic; plain, simple math. Either James and I were meant to be together, or we weren’t. Xenia stared at me as I continued to quietly rip the intelligence report that she had handed me into bits.
“Is everything all right?”
I didn’t look at her. Would he forgive me? Would he even remember me? I laughed harshly, and Xenia jumped. I think I was scaring her, but I couldn’t make myself care. She paled to wretched insignificance beside the simple possibility that I would see James again.
Had he spent the last few years as I had, seeing my lost love in every lock of blue-black hair that had crossed my path? Nights of passion made pointless by an unexpected memory? Or had it been easier for him, thinking that I was dead?
Had that made it worse? Had he tormented himself with the thought that he could have saved me? Or had he just patted himself on the back for a job well done?
With an impatient growl, I stood, and pulled Xenia to me. I had caught her off guard, and I pushed her down to the desk, trying to drown out my pointless fears in her fearsome sexuality. She responded exactly as I wanted her to, animalistic and eager. We shoved all the papers off the desk, and I took her right there. It was violent, and over quickly, even for us.
She didn’t ask why, and I didn’t tell her. I watched her dress, and kissed her before she walked away.
I smiled when I discovered that she had taken the remains of the report that I had been reading. It didn’t matter. I had more important things to do.
I had to prepare myself to see James again.
Castar na daoine ar a chéile, ach ní chastar na cnoic (ná na sléibhte).
The people encounter one another, but the hills never meet (nor the mountains).
Just take one step.
One step, James. Show me you forgive me. Show me I still come before Queen and country. One step.
“Alec?”
Never was my name sweeter than on James’ sweet, trembling lips. The gun wavered, and I knew that he would not shoot me. But I could see he was still fighting, that his beautiful eyes were still full of doubt and fear. Not of me; never of me. Of himself. My dark Irish beauty was afraid of what he might do. Not to me; for me. Could he let me go? Could he come to me?
One step, James. Come to me.
He swallowed hard, and raised the gun again. His eyes were hard, fighting to hold back tears of sorrow for what he knew he was going to lose.
He saw the hurt in my eyes, and only the timely appearance of Xenia, angry as a wet cat, saved him from the humiliation of breaking into tears in front of me again.
I steeled myself for what I had to do. My gamble had failed. The man I loved was lost to me forever.