31_days | [16 April] [James Bond] A Birthday Visit

Title: A Birthday Visit
Day/Theme: April 16th - I will show you fear in a handful of dust
Series: James Bond
Character/Pairing: Bond, Felix, me
Rating: PG

Note: Just a bit of self-indulgent whining disguised as a self-insertion humour fic. As bad as it sounds. But it's my birthday, so it's okay.

"Oh, Christ," said James Bond, without a hint of reverence. "Not again."

I chewed moodily on an Easter jellybean. "Go away."

"Look." He leaned back in his chair. "It's one thing to be shameless, I think we can all agree that's no good. But you use shame like a security blanket. It's disgusting. And why now? Why today? It's your birthday, for God's sake. Also - I can't very well go away, can I? You're bloody writing me to be here, you daft cow."

"I am in no mood," I insisted, glaring at him over the rim of my mug of tapwater.

"Then concoct a nice story where I go off and play golf all day, why don't you? Too sensible for your tastes? Not melodramatic enough?"

I shut my eyes, turning away slightly. "Et tu, Bruté?"

"Jesus. Okay. Look at -" His eyes scanned my bookshelves. "John Grisham, for instance. He's written the same bloody book about fifty times, and he's a millionaire. Mediocrity can't be all bad."

"You don't understand. How could you possibly understand? You've never been mediocre. I want to be extraordinary. I can't be extraordinary. So what am I supposed to do, settle for being average?"

He smiled. "Suicide's an option."

"That's not funny."

"It's pretty funny."

"I almost killed myself. A few years ago."

"Bollocks." He stretched his legs out in front of him. "All right, so, look at it this way. You have discriminating taste. You've got a knack for spotting the truly good stuff, and a way of telling people how they can fix what they've got. So what if you can't do it for yourself? Just enjoy what you're doing, don't try to write the Great American Novel. Maybe nobody will remember you when you're dead - but they might remember a hundred names that are only famous because you helped them get there. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

I sighed. "I guess."

He smiled at me, his eyes narrow like a cat's. "Don't tell me you're conceited, Liz."

"I'm not conceited, I just want -"

"- to be extraordinary. You mentioned that. Not everyone can be, you know."

"How hard can it be? YOU are!"

"I'm also not real. Puts a bit of a crimp in the social interactions, you know."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed. You've got more friends than I have."

Just to prove a point, I hastily conjured Felix into the corner.

"She's right, you know," the Texan quipped. "Though most of her friends still have all their limbs. So it may actually add up to a total of slightly more."

I shushed him with a gesture. "I'm just worried, you know? I'm worried I'm just adding to a stereotype. I'm worried I'm just another fanfiction sheep, following the crowd. Someone actually assumed that I'd liked Wuthering Heights, which was utter utter tripe - what must they think of my writing, then? A two-bit rip off of Charlotte Brontë? God forbid! I wanted to be fresh, I wanted to be unique. There is nothing new under the sun." Tears stung at my eyes, and Bond looked as if he wanted very much to escape.

"Right," he said firmly. "First - you're a girl, so stop fighting it. Wear a damn skirt every once in a while, enjoy it. Drop some weight. Go out and waste time with boys before you're old and useless. Second - you're not insane, so stop pretending to be. Mucking about in darkness is for people who have to, like me. You're just a step above the gothics you mock. Third - I'm not your personal voodoo doll. Let me go so I can waste some more money, all right? If you're a good girl and don't bother me for a few days I'll teach you baccarat."

I smiled weakly.

He patted my shoulder in a rather avuncular way. "I know what you're afraid of, and it's not worth it. Just enjoy. 'Who of you, by worrying, can add a single day to his life'?"

I jumped. "Did you just quote -"

"The Bible, yes." He grimaced. "Sorry. A bit of the Gardner crept into me again. I'd best get back before I start enjoying tea or something."

"Okay -" by the time I thought of something to say, he was gone. I smiled at the floor. "Hey, Felix."

"Still here. Expendable as always."

"You wanna go catch a movie or something?"

"Sorry, I kinda gotta be in a fanfic in about an hour. It'll be painful, but, you know." He shrugged. "I'd better go catch a shower."

When the steady clunk-clunk of his artificial leg had faded away, I settled back down to my keyboard with a smile.

Yeah, it would be all right.