queen_insane (queen_insane) wrote,

Bang Bang You're Dead (00Silva)

Title: Bang Bang You're Dead
Fandom: James Bond (Skyfall '12)
Characters/Parings: 00Silva or Bond/Silva, Sévérine
Rating: R
Word Count: 777
Summary: During the scene where Bond is asked to shoot Sévérine things go very, very wrong.
A/N: It's a fic, from a new fandom. I have nothing to add. Thank god 00Silva chat happened and made me have thoughts again.
==Warnings: Canon Character Death (sort of). Sort of Noncon but not really, evilness==

“Let's see who ends up on top.”

Silva’s breath ghosts across him and James Bond shutters, finds himself going hard and tries to regain some sort of control. Tries to find something to hold onto. A woman’s life is in his hands, not an innocent to be sure but someone who needs a second chance. Needs what he thought M would give him. His hand still shakes and he finds himself gripped in this terrible cowardice. If only M had been honest with him, if only he had been honest with himself.

“Let's see who ends up on top.”

The words haunt him. He can still feel the phantom of Silva’s hands on his legs, his chest, touching the wound on his chest, fingers ghosting over wound that M gave him, even though she didn’t. In that moment he had been angry but also soothed, because this hand, this hand attached to this madman, had understood. The ache that scar would always carry.

“Let's see who ends up on top.”

He tries to aim but Sévérine blurs in front of him, he finds himself dizzy. He is still hard. He hates that. Violence has always turned him on, it’s one of the reasons 00 agents are as good as they are. As much as they wish to protect the country they will always, in some small way like what they do. Addiction to the job, to the rush, to the madness of it all, the control that it brought. His first kill was messy, his second easier, the third he almost enjoyed. And now each job was like that moment before you truly became drunk, that warm buzz, that warned you how dangerous it could become. That if you went any further you would come to depend on that buzz, that desire, that rush. You continued on anyway hoping that just once you could forget.

“Let’s see who ends up on top.”

But you never do.

The trigger under his finger feels slick.

He takes a breath.

“Let’s see who ends up on top.”

He fires.

The glass on Sévérine’s head shakes and then falls off. Her body goes limp. There is red staining the back of the statue. Behind him he can hear Silva’s laughter, “James, oh James, this is even better than I could have pictured. Look at what you have done James.”

Sévérine does not move. James wills her too but she does not. He cannot find the words so he sinks to his knees, refuses to look at her, at the dead body in front of him. Silva comes behind him and he feels the man pet him. Feels his hand stroke and ruffle his hair as if to comfort. But there is no comfort here, “Such a beautiful mess you have created James.”

He tilts Jame’s face back up so he can look up at Sévérine’s unmoving body. The one thing about being an agent is that he has never questioned that what he has done is for the greater good. The one truth he holds of 00s is that their actions are for the good of Queen and Country. Even if he’s gunning for someone where the kill is questionable. But this, this is different. This is senseless.

Blood drips down her forehead and lands on the dusty ground. Silva still continues to pet him. At the gentle caress, he loses protocol and leans into the touch, into the comfort offered, “She knew you were not ready, and yet.” Silva pauses to tut, “Look at the mess Mummy has created for you.”

He looks. Part of him shouldn’t, really shouldn’t but he looks and feels just a little bit of rage, just a little bit of something that feels like anger and fire seep into his bones.

Silva pulls him up like a puppet and fiddles with his clothes, brushes him off, and then fixes his shirt. When he’s done he moves to touch Bond’s face and he doesn’t shy away. He doesn’t want too. He can see the smirk on Silva’s face and then Silva’ leans in and kisses him. For a second Bond doesn’t respond, puts up one last final resistance before he gives in. The worst part he realizes, when his body has been dragged over to the statue where Sévérine’s body is still cooling so the two of them can grope and fumble their way to madness. The worst part is through the whole thing, from the moment he was given the gun to this very moment, was that he was still hard, still aching.

He wonders if he will ever be able to forgive himself that.
Tags: 00silva, fic, skyfall
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded