[Sept. 17] [James Bond] Mockingbird

[tortillafactory.livejournal.com]

Title: Mockingbird
Day/Theme: Sept. 17 - Scenes from the life of a double monster
Series: James Bond
Character/Pairing: Bond
Rating: PG-13 for language and thematic elements

Note: This is the first part of what will be a multi-part series, based on each day's theme. I am, at the moment, unsure how long it will last.



Hundred thousand people - I'm the one they frame!
- Ah Ha, "The Living Daylights"

"Just going to take a little blood sample, I'm afraid."

Bond looked up. "Eh?"

"For, you know. Testing." Molly had turned her back to him and was shuffling through a drawer.

"Testing?" He sat up on the cot. "What kinds of testing?"

Pulling a file out of the cabinet, she said, "oh, all kinds. Just to make sure you haven't - picked up anything."

Bond smiled ruefully. "I suppose there's no chance of me getting out of this, then?"

Laughing softly, she patted his shoulder. "We'll have a chat when your results come back, Commander. Just sign this release form."

She'd handed him a clipboard and pen, with two or three pages of tiny print. Squinting, Bond detected only legal gibberish.

"Has M cleared this?"

She looked surprised. "Of course!"

"It's just that I've never had to sign a form before. New government health regulations, or somesuch nonsense?"

"Oh, I suppose," said Molly vaguely, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.
Bond thought it odd that Dr. Molly Warmflash, who took such pride in her work, didn't bother to find out about procedural changes.

Then again, it was odd that she would change her diagnosis based on how long he lasted in bed.

Life, he reflected, didn't always make sense.

At the moment, he and M were on good terms. His last few missions had been completed with as little inconvenience to her organisation as possible, and she seemed to be growing appreciative of even his less orthodox methods. If there were anything untoward going on, she'd tell him.

Letting out a breath, Bond pondered at the rather incongruously painful ache that a small needle in the arm can cause. His veins were small and had a tendency to shut down when invaded, so the whole process took a bit longer than he would have liked. But it was over with a few minutes, and he was soon out the door, sporting a jaunty bit of cotton taped to his forearm and just the tiniest smear of Molly's lipstick on his cheek.

Almost a month later, he came striding in to Universal Exports, Ltd. at 11:00 a.m. sharp. As soon as he reached Moneypenny's desk, she looked at him rather grimly.

"M wants to see you," she said. "Straightaway."

He raised his eyebrows. "Something wrong?"

Penny shrugged, turning her eyes back to her paperwork. Feeling slightly chilled, Bond went into his superior's office.

He wasn't particularly surprised to see a man sitting in the corner. The man sat with his back straight, his hands folded, and wore a trenchcoat. A rather extensive moustache graced his upper lip, and there was no question in Bond's mind that he was a police officer. Both he and M looked up with Bond walked in, and the man stood.

"Bond," she said in acknowledgment. "This is Superintendent Finn, from Bassishaw Ward."

They shook hands. Bond's mind was racing - this wasn't the first time he'd been mixed up with the police. Usually getting disentangled was a simple affair, and a few words from M set the whole thing straight. He hoped nothing had changed.

"Commander," said the Superintendent in a gravelly voice. "I know it isn't terribly often that the paths of the police and the Secret Service cross, but I hope we are able to reach a resolution swiftly and with as little inconvenience as possible. There is no need to fear anything from us; we will not demand any information which you are not at liberty to give. Your superior," he nodded towards M, "may at any time authorise you to reveal information that was previously kept secret. If you find it acceptable, she will remain in the room for the duration of our conversation."

"Of course," said Bond, doing his best to ignore the condescending tone in the Superintendent's voice.

"Do you recall your whereabouts on the night of April 9th?"

Bond thought he must have looked as bemused as he felt, because M was bringing something up on her laptop. "According to my records, you were in London at the time. You came in at nine forty-five a.m., were in a conference until lunch...assigned to administrative work for the rest of the day."

"Could be any day in a thousand," said Bond, looking at the Superintendent. "What, exactly, is this all about?"

The other man did not answer, nor acknowledge the question. "To the best of your knowledge, were you at any time near Coleman Street?"

"It's not likely. I seldom go to that part of town."
"Did you make any arrangements to meet anyone outside of White Horse yard?"

Bond shook his head. This was sounding more and more ominous. "Certainly not."

"Thank you, Commander. I believe those are all the questions I have."

"Hold on." Bond put up his hand. "I believe I've a right to know what this is all about. What happened on Coleman Street?

The Superintendent looked offended. "I was getting to that. Commander, please be aware that you are not, as of yet, being officially accused of any crime. We cannot and will not detain you unless further evidence surfaces. A young woman, who must remain anonymous at this time, was physically assaulted and raped in between two buildings at 1 a.m. on April 10th. She specifically named you as the perpetrator, and we are just beginning our preliminary investigations at this time."

There was a cold grip of dread in his chest. "What?" he heard himself saying. "Me?"

The Superintendent seemed bored. "At this time, the blood sample which you voluntarily gave to Dr. Molly Warmflash on June 8th is being analysed in conjunction with DNA samples from three other, more recent rapes in the same area, which are believed to be related to the one which occured on April 10th. We have no viable samples from the rape in discussion."

Helplessly, Bond turned to M.

"You signed a release," she said, quietly. "They could have demanded a sample from you personally. But the Superintendent and I thought it would be easier on everyone involved if you didn't have this hanging over your head...Dr. Warmflash agreed to use the excuse of a blood test, she thought a mouth swab would make you suspicious..."

He found that his throat was closed and he could not swallow. "Hold on," he said, his voice hoarse. "Hold on - what did she say? The victim, what did she say about me?"

"She said that she recognized the attacker's voice as being that of a casual acquaintance, one James Bond who had mentioned he worked at Universal Exports, Ltd. She said that after having run into each other several times in town, you agreed to meet the night of April 9th, on Coleman Street. That is all the information I am at liberty to reveal at this time, Commander." The Superintendent examined his fingernails.

"Why'd she keep so bloody quiet about it for so long, then?" The words burst out before he could stop them.

"Bond!" M cut in, sharply. "Please."

"It's all right," said the Superintendent. "I understand." Bond had the feeling he didn't. "Thank you for your cooperation, Commander Bond. I will be in contact with you as things develop further."

He walked out, and Bond was too numb to stand, too numb to speak.

"There's nothing we can do," said M, sounding very tired. "If the tests don't match -"

"If?" Bond rose to his feet. "If?"

"James, I'm only -"

"Don't bloody tell me what you're only doing!" he shouted. "After all I've done, you won't even vouch for my character? Is your precious organization going to suffer? I am your organization! You bloody well know it, too! Now, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?"

"Bond. Please. I did everything that I could." She was too weary to even fight back. "Everything depends on the evidence now."

"Evidence," said Bond. "Fuck their evidence. I never agreed to meet anyone. I never touched a woman unless she wanted it."

M looked stern.

Bond walked to the door. "I may be a complete bastard, you know, I may be a monster. But I'm not that kind of monster."

When the door slammed, M flinched as if she'd been hit.