[Sept. 30] [James Bond] L'étage

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Title: L'étage
Day/Theme: Sept. 30 - Exeunt omnes
Series: James Bond
Character/Pairing: Bond/OFC
Rating: PG



All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts.

- William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Her face was everywhere - on posters, on billboards, on the windows of restaurants, and on soda cups in McDonald's. Bond couldn't have escaped her if he'd wanted to. Occasionally he wondered what it must be like to live in her skin - to go everywhere, seeing yourself, or some representation of yourself, and endure the curious stares of the great unwashed masses.

And all the while, pretending you're somebody you're not.

There was no way, Bond decided, that anyone could live up to that image of perfection. If she showed up in public with one single pimple, one blemish, the papers would have a field day. Halfway into his second martini, he was beginning to feel sorry for her.

Then again, she'd chosen that life, hadn't she?

He walked through Hyde Park on Sunday, early, when most decent people were in church or in bed. When he closed his eyes, the sunlight burned the image of her face on the inside of his lids. There was something sweetly exotic about her. Yes - he had to admit that, if only to himself. She looked like an overgrown little girl. In a good way.

There were footsteps coming up from behind him on the path. Averting his eyes, Bond took longer steps and did his best to appear in a hurry. He was in no mood for conversation, and though most Londoners kept themselves to themselves, the occasional tourist would mistake the ennui in his eyes for friendliness, and attempt to strike up a discussion with him.

From the sound of the footsteps, he thought it must be someone light. It was. She was a girl, a very slender and small girl, with a dark bob of hair and big sunglasses that covered most of her face. She came up beside him and met his stride.

He couldn't help but look again.

She smiled, politely, and then he recognized her.

Her face was everywhere.

So she was an actress. So she was famous. It didn't matter. Why was his heart thumping?

"Morning."

Her voice was soft and familiar. "Hi."

"I didn't know you were in town," he said, because it was something to say.

She smiled. "I'm giving a little talk at the Drama Centre."

"I see - well, lovely."

He wondered if she expected him to say something else - something about her fame, or her films, or the posters all over town.

"You're all over," he heard himself blurt. "Posters, napkins...I don't make it to the cinema terribly often, but I've seen you quite a bit."

Laughing, she said, "thank you."

Bond reflected that he oughtn't try to speak to celebrities before he'd has his coffee. At some point they had stopped walking, and stood side by side at a fountain.

He cleared his throat. "By which I mean - well. It's not an unpleasant thing - to see you, I mean."

"You're way too nice."

"Probably would be nicer if I were qualified to praise you as an actress, but...well, I did see a film of yours. Some time ago, I think. You were quite young. I'm certain you're tired of hearing about it, but you were rather splendid for your age. Or any age. Gary Oldman was in it, I think. And that French fellow."

She plucked a leaf from the branch that brushed her shoulder. "Jean's not French."

"Really?"

"Morrocan."

"You don't say."

"I do say."

They both smiled.

"So, what do you do?"

Bond took a breath, dreading, as always, this inevitable question.

"Different things. A little freelance journalism at the moment."

Grinning, she said, "not for Entertainment Weekly, I guess."

"'Fraid I'll never be as successful as - well, anyway, I don't think I'd like to have my face pasted all over town."

She laughed. "People assume I like it - I never really asked for it. I guess part of me does want the attention. But mostly it just gets annoying."

Bond ran his fingers across the iron fencing. "Funny, I always thought - well, I thought people who got famous had something other people didn't."

"Maybe I do," she said, raising her eyebrows. "It's not like I'd know."

Her smile still dazzled.

"All right," said Bond, clearing his throat again. "I'm boring you, and anyway I've got to be off. Have a lovely time at the Drama Centre, all right?"

"I'll do my best. You're not boring me - but you can leave, that's okay. I won't be awfully offended."

They smiled at each other, and Bond said, "all right, in that case - I've enjoyed our chat. But it's time I was home. I've got an appointment later. I'll be seeing you, I suppose."

She frowned a little.

"On the posters," he clarified.

"Oh, right!" She laughed softly at herself. "Yeah...yeah, you will. Wish I could say the same about you. But you wouldn't want your face plastered all over town."

"Not if I can avoid it."

He walked into the still-rising sun, leaving her in his shadow.

She was an actress. And he - he was an actor, wasn't he, really? It wouldn't work out.

No - most certainly not.