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31_days2006-04-28 11:54 pm
tortillafactory.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2006-04-28 11:54 pm
[28th April] [James Bond] The Fingers of Your Hand
Title: The Fingers of Your Hand
Day/Theme: April 28th - On an ever spinning wheel
Series: James Bond
Character/Pairing: Bond
Rating: PG-13
His fingers were stuck together.
Bond went to the sink, relishing the feeling of soap on his hands. The water, pinkish, swirled down the sink.
Another day, another kill. Bit like a hunter, really. A people-hunter.
A demon-hunter, sometimes.
In his mind, Bond made a clear distinction between true villians and the weak. So many people were just caught up in a storm, ruled by those who understood and chose to create chaos regardless. Both needed to be killed, sometimes, but Bond liked to know which was which. As if his understanding could be their salvation.
Vesper had taught him the difference, and ever since he had been careful to know.
People were shocked when they realised he sometimes had to kill old friends. Who else would you kill? The only other human being he'd met who understood was a doctor, who described the reactions of his friends and family when he explained he performed autopsies on the patients he had been treating. Bond, with a smile, had told the doctor his job wasn't exactly at risk. He couldn't imagine cutting someone open like that - pulling him (it?) apart. He had the same respect for this doctor that he had for the paramedics who scraped bodies off of the ground; it was one thing to put them there, but it was quite another to deal with the aftermath. It wasn't something Bond liked to think about. He disliked hiding fresh, intact bodies quite enough.
Blood, however, was an occupational hazard. He was used to it by now. At the required civilian medical course all the 00s took every few years, the man in the white coat always told them to never, NEVER touch someone's blood without protection - it was all Bond could do not to laugh. According to these pawns, Bond would have been striken down with the human immunodeficiency virus long ago.
He looked down at the red underneath his fingernails, and went back to the sink.
He felt unpleasantly like Lady Macbeth, but the blood was still there.
The blood was always there.
The cycle worked like that. As soon as he was clean, another kill came along.
He took the nailbrush on his hand and scratched at his fingers until they bled.
Day/Theme: April 28th - On an ever spinning wheel
Series: James Bond
Character/Pairing: Bond
Rating: PG-13
His fingers were stuck together.
Bond went to the sink, relishing the feeling of soap on his hands. The water, pinkish, swirled down the sink.
Another day, another kill. Bit like a hunter, really. A people-hunter.
A demon-hunter, sometimes.
In his mind, Bond made a clear distinction between true villians and the weak. So many people were just caught up in a storm, ruled by those who understood and chose to create chaos regardless. Both needed to be killed, sometimes, but Bond liked to know which was which. As if his understanding could be their salvation.
Vesper had taught him the difference, and ever since he had been careful to know.
People were shocked when they realised he sometimes had to kill old friends. Who else would you kill? The only other human being he'd met who understood was a doctor, who described the reactions of his friends and family when he explained he performed autopsies on the patients he had been treating. Bond, with a smile, had told the doctor his job wasn't exactly at risk. He couldn't imagine cutting someone open like that - pulling him (it?) apart. He had the same respect for this doctor that he had for the paramedics who scraped bodies off of the ground; it was one thing to put them there, but it was quite another to deal with the aftermath. It wasn't something Bond liked to think about. He disliked hiding fresh, intact bodies quite enough.
Blood, however, was an occupational hazard. He was used to it by now. At the required civilian medical course all the 00s took every few years, the man in the white coat always told them to never, NEVER touch someone's blood without protection - it was all Bond could do not to laugh. According to these pawns, Bond would have been striken down with the human immunodeficiency virus long ago.
He looked down at the red underneath his fingernails, and went back to the sink.
He felt unpleasantly like Lady Macbeth, but the blood was still there.
The blood was always there.
The cycle worked like that. As soon as he was clean, another kill came along.
He took the nailbrush on his hand and scratched at his fingers until they bled.