Being Kincade's daughter and growing up with James. As children being joint at the hip but that all changes when Monique & Andrew die. Looking after Skyfall with your Father and being devastated when the house burns to the ground. James not wanting you to be involved with Silva but you refuse to leave him. Let's be honest with Kincade as your father you were never the damsel in distress kind, The grey haired man made sure you could defend yourself.
Summary: You want your father dead. A British spy needs him for information. After the years of abuse and killing the innocent that your father has put you through, you’re not exactly willing to negotiate and you’re certainly not about to fall for the spy’s charms. Plans change when one of your father’s schemes traps the two of you in a room rigged to blow.
Notes: Bond… James Bond (Don’t forget to leave reviews and let me know if you’d like to see more classic movie imagines!)
You’d grown accustomed to the feeling of a gun in your hands. More still, you were used to the sound of it’s shot and the sharp scent of blood that followed. But you could never stop yourself from wincing as the life left your victim’s eyes. It was something you’d never be used to, which you supposed was a good thing. It meant you hadn’t turned into your father. The man before you slumped over, dropping the key to the locked room behind him. Just one more kill. And then you’re free. You promised yourself the same thing every time you took another life. Just one more.
You quickly unlocked the door and slipped inside that dark room. You held your breath, the absolute silence setting your nerves on edge. It wasn’t until you turned the light on that you realized that you weren’t alone. He seemed almost as surprised as you were, but his shock was quickly replaced with a smirk.
“If you’re looking for Anton, he’s not here.” He stepped cautiously away from the desk, keeping his hands in the air while he stared down the barrel of your pistol. His eyes fell to the family photo on Anton’s desk. One of you and him on an island off the coast of Jamaica.“But you already know that.” You slammed the frame down, taking a step towards him.
“Empty your pockets.” You ordered. He complied, showing you his own weapon, a pistol similar to yours, and the document that he’d taken from the desk. The very thing that you were after. You held out your hand. “I’ll be taking that.”
“Why are you looking for Marcus Vansco?” The man questioned, a knowing and smug look on his face.
“I could ask you the same question.” You cocked the pistol, returning his smirk. “Who are you?”
“The name’s James Bond.” You clenched your jaw, gripping the pistol tighter.
“I’ve heard plenty about you, Mr. Bond. What does the British Secret Intelligence Service want with him?” You growled. Any interference from the agencies would spell trouble for your plot against the criminal mastermind.
“He has information of a much grander operation than his petty money laundering and smuggling.” You jabbed the pistol into his chest and ripped the parchment from his hands.
“Petty?” You snapped. “Do you know how many people have died because of him? How many lives were ruined?” Johnathan... His smirk never faltered.
“You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Vansco?” Before you could react, he grabbed your weapon and twisted your arm behind your back. “Get in a fight with daddy, did we?” He snarked. You struggled, but he just continued to twist your arm. You had to bite your lip to keep from crying out.
“My name isn’t Vansco. It’s Y/L/N.” You slammed your head back into his face, breaking free of his grip. He swung at you, shock briefly gracing his features. You dropped down to the floor, sweeping his legs from underneath him sending him crashing into the coffee table behind him. “You don’t really think I would keep my father’s name, do you?”
“I suppose not.” He reasoned, grabbing your ankle and yanking you down. He climbed over you and reached for the paper in your hand. You wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped him onto his back. He didn’t even wince. “Usually I prefer to have dinner first, but I can’t say I don’t enjoy the view.” Without warning, he rolled, slamming you into the side of the desk, knocking the breath out of you.
Despite the dizziness, you observed the statue behind Bond and smiled.
“I admire your efforts, Mr. Bond.” You reached underneath the desk and felt the wood until you felt a small, metal button. “But I’m afraid this is a family matter.” You pressed the button and watched the dart enter the spies neck. His eyes widened before he collapsed, the alarm system beginning to blare overhead. You scurried across the floor and grinned victoriously at the phone records in your hand. The most recent call was to a location in Italy.
You grabbed your pistol and aimed it at the unconscious spy. You summoned every instinct that you had developed being your father’s assassin, but the gun felt heavier than it ever had. You couldn’t do it. And you didn’t have time to reevaluate leaving a British spy alive and on your tail. And so you ran, leaving the debonair Mr. Bond to be found by your brother’s security guards. If you were lucky, they’d kill him for you.
James was not used to losing. As the train rattled, so did his injuries sustained from his battle with Vansco’s daughter. Even without those records, he was able to track Vansco by following his son, Anton. The heir to the criminal dynasty sat only a few tables away in the dining car and James carefully observed all that approached. So when his eye-catching younger sister passed James to meet her brother, she was hard to miss.
With your sights set on your brother, you failed to notice your previous opponent hiding behind his menu. All that mattered was getting through the Anton.
“Y/N... how pleasant to see you.” He greeted with a tight smile. “We’ve all been looking for you for a very long time, dear sister. Ever since poor Jonathan.” It took all of your control not to stab his fork into the back of his hand. He was still your brother, even after everything he’d done for the tyrant that you once called father.
“Jonathan died because of our father. Because I dared to try and make myself happy without him. And he’ll do the same to you.” You wished you could make him see, to make him understand that love does not come from fear. A loving touch is not the same as the sting from the back of his hand.
“I have everything I could ever want.” Anton laughed. “I have wealth and power and a family that stays together no matter what.” He grabbed your wrist tightly. “Come home, Y/N.” You shook your head sadly.
“We never had a home, Anton.” A single tear fell for him, but there was nothing more you could do. You tried to step away, but his grip on your wrist remained.
“I can’t let you leave.” He snapped, but you could almost see the slightest trace of regret in his eyes. “Father wants to talk to you.”
“And I want him dead.” You yanked your arm away only to have Anton’s companions draw their weapons on you.
“I wouldn’t do that.” A voice behind you said. Bond appeared beside you, his gun pointed at your brother’s head. He spoke to you with a smirk. “Did you miss me, dear?”
“What are you doing here?” You spat.
“Following your tracks.” He kept his eyes on Anton. His smug look infuriated you. “And saving you.” You gritted your teeth.
“Who said I needed saving?” You grabbed hold of the man closest to you’s arm, pulling him forward as his collegue shot his weapon. You ducked and the bullet entered the man’s chest. James took on the man who’d fired and had him on the floor along with his colleague in seconds. Anton chuckled.
“Don’t the two of you make a nice couple?” He snarked. He nodded and you both felt a sharp pain in the back of your necks. “Oh well.” You stumbled towards him as the drugs took over.
“Anton don’t-” You passed out before you finished. But as you fell, you could have sworn that Mr. Bond caught you before you hit the ground, even as he himself fell unconscious.
Betrayed and nursing a splitting headache, you barely had enough energy to open your eyes. Not that there was much to see. The room was relatively empty except for the table in the center and your antagonizing room mate, who was just beginning to wake up as well. There was one large sliding door at the front of the room, but no means to open it. But it wasn’t being trapped that scared you. It was the small box in the middle of the table and the quiet ticking that it omitted.
“Bastard.” You hissed, knowing that your father was somewhere, watching you. “Going to kill me too, now?” You screamed looking around the room until you found the camera in the corner. “Come out and face me, you coward!”
“You always were a little spit-fire, weren’t you, Y/N.” Your father’s voice boomed. “And now you’ve dragged Mr. Bond into this mess.”
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Vansco.” James announced calmly. “About those missiles you’ve smuggled.”
“So that’s why you’re here?” You exclaimed. “To take information back to your little agency.”
“I’m here to prevent a war, Miss Y/L/N.” James responded before turning his attention back to your father. “Perhaps we could talk face to face.” A deep chuckled echoed through the room.
“ I was hoping you’d say that, Mr. Bond.” One of the panels in the wall opened, revealing a man with a gun. And it was pointed at you. He fired before either of you had time to react and the shot tore through your side. The panel closed and you stumbled back, wincing in pain. Vansco continued. “Left unattended, my daughter will surely bleed out in a matter a few, painful hours. I’m giving you a choice, Mr. Bond. Stay and save the girl who tried to kill you on multiple occasions, or leave, earning the information you seek and your freedom.
“Oh, and no matter what your decision is, Mr. Bond, that device on the table will explode in exactly three hours. The choice is yours. Stay and die with my treacherous daughter, or complete what you came here to do.”
The door slid open and you tried to rush forward, but the panel opened once again, this time the weapon aimed for your head. There’d be no escaping for you. James looked from you to the door and back again, watching the blood seep through your blazer.
“Go.” You muttered. “At least only one of us will die.” You tried to keep standing, but the blood loss was starting to make you dizzy. Every instinct was telling him to go through that door, but something else, something against all his better judgments, told him to stay. As he walked towards you, the door closed.
“Pity...” Vansco scolded. “I was so looking forward to meeting you in person. Goodbye, Mr. Bond.” James tore off a piece of his rather expensive shirt and pressed it to your wound, helping you sit down on the floor.
“What are you doing?” You coughed. “You could’ve gotten out of here.”
“Something tells me that you might be more useful than your father.” He whispered. “Keep your voice down and pretend to be angry with me.”
“I am angry with you.” You fired back. The corner of your lips lifted into a semi-amused smile. You winced as he applied more pressure to your side.
“Sorry.” He looked up at you with those dark eyes of his and you understood how he got his reputation. He was devilishly charming. Being on a cold floor with a bullet in your torso probably wasn’t the most romantic of circumstances, however. “Why’d you turn against him in the first place? What could make you want to kill your father after years of doing his bidding?”
“Those years of doing his ‘bidding’ were nothing more than a young girl being told that everything she did was for her family. Every person she killed, she killed in the name of Vansco. And for years, I believed everything they told me.” You took off your blazer to give him better access to the wound and revealed the other scars your father was responsible for. “I believed that every cigar burning into my skin, every bruise, were marks of things I’d done wrong. I thought I deserved them. That they were results of my failings toward the family.”
You weren’t sure why you were telling him all of this. All of the things that you’d held inside you for the past three years. Maybe it was because it didn’t matter. You were both going to die now. Despite his foolishness, you couldn’t help but be grateful that you weren’t alone.
“He’s a monstrus man.” James uttered. You laughed bitterly.
“That’s not the worst of it.” You could feel all of the emotions rushing back. The grief, the anger, the pain. You eyes teared up. The blood loss was making you delirious. “He killed my fiance.” You didn’t have the strength to keep up the walls you’d built in your lifetime. You could finally let it go. “His name was Jonathan and he was perfect. A baker from Cardiff. Nothing special, but he was mine.” You took a deep breath. James never said anything, nor was there any judgement in his gaze. He just listened. “My father didn’t like me having something of my own. Something that could make me happy outside of his little world. So he burnt the bakery to the ground with Jonathan inside.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was sincere, without the slightest trace of sarcasm. You wiped your eyes and sat up as tall as you could.
“That’s why I’ve been hunting him down for the past three years.” You looked around, your eyes falling upon the bomb on the table. “It’s only fitting that it leads me to my grave. Poetic.” He placed a hand on your cheek and you let him.
“You’re not going to die.” He promised. “I might be able to get us out of here.” He handed you the cloth and told you to keep pressing on the wound while he searched the ceiling for something to grab onto. There was a crack that he could latch his fingers too, swinging his body back and forth, until he finally kicked the panel where the shooter had appeared.
Nothing happened. He kicked again, and still nothing. It wasn’t until he kicked the third time that the panel fell back, revealing a small compartment leading to a hallway within the walls. He dropped back down to the floor and held out his hand to you.
“Follow me.” He helped you stand and the idea of being free again gave you just enough adrenaline to keep going. You both knew that your father would be after you as soon as he saw that you had escaped, so you moved quickly down the passage until a pair of guards attacked you. Even with your injury, with you and James paired together, they didn’t stand a chance.
You took their guns and continued. After only a few meetings, you were shaping up to be a pretty good team. Room after room, hallway after hallway, there still didn't seem to be an exit.
“Very clever, Mr. Bond.” The voice of your father returned, only this time it wasn’t over a speaker. You turned around quickly, making your head spin.
“Son of a bitch!” You screamed, aiming your weapon at the man you hated more than anything in the world. He only smiled.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Two guards dragged Anton out of a room with a gun at his head. “Your brother has done right by this family. It would be a shame to kill him for your mistakes.”
“He drugged me and brought me here.” You sneered. “See if I care.” Marcus shrugged and nodded to his men. He cocked the pistol and Anton looked up at you. Just one more kill. But this was a life you couldn’t have on your hands. “Wait!” You lowered your weapon. “Let him go.”
“You see, Y/N,” Marcus paced towards you, “Nothing ties us together like family.” The back of his hand left a sting on your cheek as he struck you. James clenched his jaw.
“Vansco, I believe we still have something to discuss.” He hoped to draw the attention away from you, but it didn’t work.
“I’m afraid you missed your chance for that.” He motioned to his guards and brought both you and James to your knees before him. “Now you must die with my deceitful daughter.” He latched his hand onto your wound and squeezed. As hard as you tried to stop it, you couldn’t keep from screaming out in pain. James struggled against the guard holding him, but there wasn’t much he could do while Marcus kept the guns on you.
“I’m sorry I got you into this, James.” You whispered. Your father smiled.
“You’ve grown fond of our little English spy, haven’t you?” He chuckled. “And now you’ve brought him to his death. Just. Like. Jonathan.” As your final act of defiance, you spit on his expensive shoes and looked at him with all the hatred you could muster.
“Pig.” You snapped. His face contorted with rage and he took his guard’s gun, wanting to deliver the final shot himself. You closed your eyes as the shot rang through the hallway, along with James’ voice.
“No!” He exclaimed. But you didn’t feel anything. As you opened your eyes, you saw the blood seep from your father’s chest. Two more shots followed, both finding their mark in the heads of the guards. You and James turned around in shock, finding Anton holding the smoking gun.
“Bastard.” Anton muttered, his hand falling to his side. You leapt up and your brother enveloped you in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You heard a groan of pain from the ground and broke apart. Marcus was crawling, trying to get away. James stepped on his leg.
“I believe this is what you came for.” James stated. You took your brother’s gun and stood over the man you once called father.
“This isn’t for Anton or James or even Johnathan.” You hissed, placing the gun on the back of his head. “This is for me.” You fired and silence fell over the world. You stood, wiping the blood off of your face and turned to face the two slightly shocked men. “James, you said you needed information on a missile shipment. Anton?”
“The missiles are being sent out tonight.” He stuttered.
“Is there a way to stop them?” James asked. Anton shook his head.
“There’s a passphrase that only Marcus knew.” He sighed. James leaned against the wall, defeated. You smirked.
“Can you show us the control room?” You asked, looking at Anton. He nodded. “Boys... follow me.”
Once you found the control room, Anton logged into the messaging system.
“The only way to stop them is to send them a signal with the passphrase.” The screen held a blank line, awaiting its orders.
“Type in ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend.’” You suggested. They both looked at you with confusion. “It’s a phrase he would say to me often.” Anton shrugged and entered it. The screen soon read: Copy that. Shipment suspended until further notice.
“That’ll give my friends plenty of time to round up Vansco’s workers and put an end to this operation.” James rejoiced. He gave Anton a pat on the shoulder. “Sorry, old chap, but I’m afraid they’ll take you too.” Anton nodded.
“I deserve whatever is coming to me.” In all of the commotion, the two didn’t notice how you wavered on your feet until you finally collapsed, the last thing you saw being James’ concerned eyes and once again, his arms were there to catch you.
You’d woken up in handcuffs before, but never to a bedpost. The pain in your side was considerably decreased, but your head spun, trying to figure out where you were. It was then that you realized that you weren’t wearing the same clothes you had when you shot your father.
“Don’t worry, I had nothing to do with that.” A smug voice came from the bathroom of what appeared to be a hotel room. “Nor was I responsible for those cuffs. I’m afraid my friends at MI6 are behind that.” James walked out in a robe with a smirk on his face. “Good morning.”
“They’re charging Anton, aren’t they?” You sighed. James nodded.
“I have been able to advocate for you, however.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I suggested that you might make a very good ally for tracking down the rest of Vansco’s empire. And with Anton’s cooperation, you both might be allowed a little leniency.” You laughed.
“You want me to be an agent in tracking down my father’s henchmen?” As the thought slowly sunk in, you realized it might not actually be a bad idea. But there was still that pinching metal on your wrists. “Then what’s with the handcuffs.”
“They thought I would be in danger if you woke up in a bad mood.” He chuckled. His finger started to trace up your leg, but you kicked it away.
“Not so fast, Mr. Bond. I haven’t agreed to anything, let alone any of your romantic advancements.”
“Then what do you say?” he inquired.
“I suppose it might be refreshing to work for the other side for once.” You shrugged. Keeping his eyes on yours, he leaned over and kissed your hand.
“It will be a pleasure to work with you.” He unlocked the handcuff and the two of you just looked at each other. James may be a flirt, but he wanted Vansco’s men gone just as much as you. You didn’t protest when his lips finally found yours. After all, the enemy of your enemy... is your friend.
Q going to James for girl advice, no offence to James but he never seemed short of having beautiful women surrounding him. Q was socially awkward at the best of times. Let alone when he was trying to build up the courage at ask Y/N on a date. Dangerous weapons and arrogant spies (not mentioning any names) he could deal with no problem, but a gorgeous, smart and downright amazing woman... no way!
