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[james bond] the last crown - pg
Title: The Last Crown
Rating: PG
Length: ~600 words
Fandom: James Bond (genderswap!everybody, basically)
A/N: For![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trope_bingo! James Bond genderswap for my AU: Other square. Fancasting photoset can be found on Tumblr here!
On AO3 | DW
M unbuttoned his jacket and threw it over the back of the low sofa. The whisky glass on the table sat untouched, for the moment. Instead, he brushed a thumb across the ring he wore on his right hand. "I haven't always been such a pillar as you see before you today, Bond."
"I've heard the stories about Tripoli, sir."
"No, no, that is mere gossip only. There I was exactly as you would believe. I speak of Mexico. In the shadow of Chapultepec, almost," he waved a hand. "Where it began. The office there has never produced much in the way of good work, so my transgressions were little noticed."
Transgressions that had now come back to haunt him. Whatever M had convinced himself, there was nothing in the service that was little noticed. Jane knew that better than most.
"You mean little remarked upon, surely."
A shrug, as though the difference meant nothing. A difference that had nothing to do with the sweat beading on M's forehead or the ring he kept stroking as he stared out at the skyline, bathed in the pale light of dawn. Nothing at all to connect it to the ribbons of smoke lazily rising into the sky.
As though there were no blood or brains staining Jane's skin.
Moneypenny.
M rapped the table with his knuckles as he sat, straightening the crease of his trousers before reaching for the glass. "There is every possibility that Thorpe plans only to bring me down," he said, sounding as though he had already convinced himself it was so.
Jane let the moment draw out, waited for her pulse to drop back to normal. She might not yet know the other secrets that lurked in the shadows of the Mexico City, but she had looked into Thorpe's eyes. Felt his skin under her hands. He might have set his sights on M alone, once. Perhaps he dreamt of wrapping his hands around his father's throat, of knocking the man from his pedestal.
But the world had grown since his dream first took shape. Time had moved on.
Near the door, Q crossed her legs. Her shoes were wet and sooty, the shoulders of her white coat sodden and dark. Aside from the bruises on her face, she might have been just another office drone caught in an inconvenient downpour. The device in her hands flashed blue repeatedly before she tucked it in a pocket and nodded at Jane.
Now it was time for Jane Bond to move on as well.
"The convoy will be here soon. Q will see you downstairs when it arrives."
M drained the glass of whisky, far from his first since Jane had delivered him to the safe house. "Are you to ride to my rescue then, 007? Retrace my steps and slip into my past until you run this particular rat to ground?"
There was little running to be done. The summons from Thorpe still rang in her ears.
"No one more suited to the task at hand, sir."
"For queen and country, then, Bond." He touched a finger to his brow, his attention already moving back to the bottle that waited on the narrow kitchen counter.
Jane pulled back her hair and slipped on her glasses. There was one last stop to make, a rendezvous with Q's assistant at the university to collect her supplies and set the rest of the plan in motion.
"For queen and country," she promised, "above all."
Rating: PG
Length: ~600 words
Fandom: James Bond (genderswap!everybody, basically)
A/N: For
trope_bingo! James Bond genderswap for my AU: Other square. Fancasting photoset can be found on Tumblr here!On AO3 | DW
M unbuttoned his jacket and threw it over the back of the low sofa. The whisky glass on the table sat untouched, for the moment. Instead, he brushed a thumb across the ring he wore on his right hand. "I haven't always been such a pillar as you see before you today, Bond."
"I've heard the stories about Tripoli, sir."
"No, no, that is mere gossip only. There I was exactly as you would believe. I speak of Mexico. In the shadow of Chapultepec, almost," he waved a hand. "Where it began. The office there has never produced much in the way of good work, so my transgressions were little noticed."
Transgressions that had now come back to haunt him. Whatever M had convinced himself, there was nothing in the service that was little noticed. Jane knew that better than most.
"You mean little remarked upon, surely."
A shrug, as though the difference meant nothing. A difference that had nothing to do with the sweat beading on M's forehead or the ring he kept stroking as he stared out at the skyline, bathed in the pale light of dawn. Nothing at all to connect it to the ribbons of smoke lazily rising into the sky.
As though there were no blood or brains staining Jane's skin.
Moneypenny.
M rapped the table with his knuckles as he sat, straightening the crease of his trousers before reaching for the glass. "There is every possibility that Thorpe plans only to bring me down," he said, sounding as though he had already convinced himself it was so.
Jane let the moment draw out, waited for her pulse to drop back to normal. She might not yet know the other secrets that lurked in the shadows of the Mexico City, but she had looked into Thorpe's eyes. Felt his skin under her hands. He might have set his sights on M alone, once. Perhaps he dreamt of wrapping his hands around his father's throat, of knocking the man from his pedestal.
But the world had grown since his dream first took shape. Time had moved on.
Near the door, Q crossed her legs. Her shoes were wet and sooty, the shoulders of her white coat sodden and dark. Aside from the bruises on her face, she might have been just another office drone caught in an inconvenient downpour. The device in her hands flashed blue repeatedly before she tucked it in a pocket and nodded at Jane.
Now it was time for Jane Bond to move on as well.
"The convoy will be here soon. Q will see you downstairs when it arrives."
M drained the glass of whisky, far from his first since Jane had delivered him to the safe house. "Are you to ride to my rescue then, 007? Retrace my steps and slip into my past until you run this particular rat to ground?"
There was little running to be done. The summons from Thorpe still rang in her ears.
"No one more suited to the task at hand, sir."
"For queen and country, then, Bond." He touched a finger to his brow, his attention already moving back to the bottle that waited on the narrow kitchen counter.
Jane pulled back her hair and slipped on her glasses. There was one last stop to make, a rendezvous with Q's assistant at the university to collect her supplies and set the rest of the plan in motion.
"For queen and country," she promised, "above all."