My Heart is Buried in Venice
James Bond seeking for love since the death of Vesper. That's it.
I proclame this the official alternative No Time to Die ending. No one has the right to say the opposite.
A bit of 00Q inspired by My Heart is Buried in Venice.
Seeing her face after thirteen years had been a shock, something he wasn't prepared for; although it was just a picture on a grave, the sight of her immediately left Bond with no emotions but the grief he had been holding for a decade.
"I miss you" was all he had been able to tell her, all of the emotions coming back to him in an instant: the pain, the guilt for not succeeding in protecting her, the rage against Le Chiffre and the hate he felt towards her for betraying him, abandoning him.
Bond missed Vesper, but still was able to hate her for leaving him alone in that cruel world.
He hated his parents in the same way (he knew it had been an accident, but still he had felt abandoned his entire life), he also hated Blofeld for not being able to love him like a brother and taking everything away from him.
Bond did not cry as he held Vesper's corpse in his arms, staring at her glassy eyes and purplish lips. It was too much to cope with, it almost felt unreal: he had spent years trying to get someone to love him, begging for affection without using any word, and it went away with the same rapidity wherewith Bond had grabbed it.
Then, it came the anger: Vesper had been so selfish and mean to leave him after he had searched for that love his whole existence, and she knew that her actions were going to stab him right to the heart. However, she had taken a huge risk in order to protect him, and Bond couldn't completely blame her anymore (oh, he wished he could have blamed it all on her).
His heart had remained there, bleeding and buried in a canal in Venice, waiting for someone to take it home.
But Bond had no clue where home was: it wasn't Skyfall, it wasn't MI6, it wasn't his flat nor London and it was none of those women's arms. Bond did not know what home was.
Home wasn't Camille, the girl he had kissed in the car. He blamed it on adrenaline (or maybe sympathy?) but Bond certainly wasn't in love with her; there had been a brief moment in which, parting their lips, he had expected to find himself in front of Vesper's blue eyes, but found Camille's displeased glare. He let her go as she walked away without saying a word (not a goodbye nor a smile), knowing she was safe and he had no reason to get affectionate.
Home wasn't even Tanner, the best friend he had ever had, a real shoulder to lean on. He was a cool man, with the ability of solving every trouble or riddle, but Bond was far away from bothering him with his nonsense shit. He could tell Tanner cared, and it made the agent feel less miserable and lonely at times, but it still wasn't enough to trust someone with his worst demons yet.
An unexpected encounter had been the new quartermaster, a way too enthusiastic kid with a silver tongue. Q was the reason why he first smiled at Vesper's memory after years: his ability of fighting Bond's insults was equal only to her level, and the agent had to hold back a chuckle.
He decided to keep him as a friend, someone who had all of the qualities to not annoy him.
Moneypenny had become a sort of home. It took Bond some time (and a rejection from her) to realise that he wasn't searching for a shag or romance from that woman; he was searching for comfort and a friendly figure. Moneypenny had something that reminded him of a mother and his inner child wanted nothing more than to stay by her side. She was sweet, understanding and honest, but still not home. She was more a shelter after a storm.
Returning to Skyfall had been a throw back into his childhood and blowing it up had been pure joy. It was not true that he had always hated that place: he had once felt at home there, the memories made it horrible; he could see his mother smiling at him, his father calling for him to go hunting together with Kincade, the fireplace was brightening the place as it did on every winter and he heard himself laughing and giggling all around. It was too much, blowing it up only silenced what he did not want to remember.
But then M collapsed. He barely caught her in time and she was bleeding. That asshole had kept her injury hidden (for what reason he still did not know) and was dying in his arms. He cried all the tears he hadn't been able to push out in Venice, all the tears he had held back in the hope of being strong enough.
He had been abandoned again, but he couldn't say he hated M for that, no matter how much he tried. She wasn't exactly affectionate, but Bond had loved that, in the way he would have loved a mother, she gave him a sense of certainty. Again, he couldn't blame her for leaving.
His heart was still buried in Venice.
"Make me disappear" he pronounced those words nonchalantly, feeling Q tensing next to him. That kid (no, a man worthy all of his respect) had tricked Bond into trusting him and the agent still struggled to understand how he could have let himself being so weak in front of that willowy smartass. Bond could have killed him with such ease, however hurting him felt wrong: he would have rather let Q kill him without moving a limb.
Austria made him realise how protective of him Bond had become, even after meeting Madeleine. As Q appeared from the hotel room door Bond had immediately sensed something was wrong: the way he carefully peeked through the door, the way he relaxed at recognising the agent and his brief rambling gave Bond the impression that something wasn't alright. But Q was Q and Bond knew he wasn't a fool, so he didn't dare to ask.
When he kissed Madeleine (and all that came after) it was completely out of adrenaline. But he did not care and rather let himself drown into it, because it felt too good to reject it, it felt nostalgic and he finally had gotten back what he had lost in Venice. He did everything to keep it, he did everything to save Madeleine and was almost able to forget himself for the times he didn't succeed.
He got back to Q-branch to take the Aston. It actually wasn't the real reason, he wanted to look at the place one last time before saying goodbye to all of it, before leaving and retiring. He had never thought he would have retired, but what he had at the moment felt enough to leave his job.
Q appeared surprised when Bond entered the lab, looking at him with a confused frown. "There's just one thing I need" but it felt utterly wrong as he took the Aston and sat in the car with Madeleine, it felt horrible as he looked at Q's soft smile without saying anything. Maybe he just needed time to adjust to the change, after all it was new to him.
His heart wasn't in Venice anymore, but it wasn't with him either.
The happy ever after in which he had believed so much shuttered in smithereens right under his sight. He should have seen it coming, he had been so stupid for thinking he could have trusted someone like Madeleine, someone who had dealt with spies their entire life. He made sure that, this time, it was him to abandon her, getting Madeleine on the train. "How will I know you're okay?" "You won't. You'll never see me again" and it felt so good to finally hate her, hate her with every drop of his blood. This time, he could blame it all on someone else.
Bond spent all of his permanence in Jamaica missing something he couldn't acknowledge. At first he connected it with breaking up with Madeleine and losing love again, but it wasn't that. There was something he wasn't aware of. When Felix offered him a job, Bond thought he had been missing the action; but, on that rubber dinghy, he was still missing something, even with the adrenaline in his veins, and he knew he wasn't missing Felix (or, at least, that was just a part of the problem).
He started understanding what was wrong with him when Moneypenny brought him to Q's house. The melancholic feeling left room for excitement, a pleasant pain in his chest, and he couldn't help the words that came out of his mouth once Q opened the door: "Hello, Q: I've missed you".
He hated himself for saying it, despite knowing he totally meant it. Looking around and taking the bottle of wine in his hand, Bond tried to make peace with the fact that he had been genuinely missing Q (which probably meant he was screwed).
Q rushed to them, likely trying to save his bottle of wine, and Bond felt an enjoyable sparkle in his heart; at least before Q spoke: "He'll be here in twenty minutes".
Jealousy was Bond's response, but forced himself to look totally neutral at the statement.
Needless to say, he felt less murderous when Q cancelled the date, but couldn't help feeling also guilt for settling into his house like a parasite and and ruining said date.
The first days at Q's house felt incredibly relaxing, as if Bond was finally able to enjoy his retirement and the domesticity he had always avoided. He always got up first in the morning, making sure Q ate enough (because he had the suspect that the quartermaster had the habit to skip meals); he chuckled at the surprised reaction Q gave when he woke up and found breakfast, when he found a ready meal to take to work and when he came back home and found Bond cooking dinner in the kitchen.
Bond loved taking care of Q, giving him the affection he had sought for all of his life, and he was not expecting anything in return; he was doing it for the sake of seeing Q's smile and because he wanted to.
But he ruined everything in the moment he kissed his beloved quartermaster. He felt how he kissed back, although Q's expression wasn't pleased but rather brought a series of emotions that confused the agent (was he mad? Scared? Annoyed? Maybe all of that). Something broke that day: Q became more careful, colder, as if he was really scared (for the first time) of being near Bond, and the agent couldn't bare to see it.
He knew what had gone wrong when he kissed him, Bond was well aware of the fact that others weren't clueless about the instability of his usual relationship; he talked to Q (and he wished he had talked way before), apparently succeeding in assuring him that he was completely serious about whatever they had in that moment.
And when Bond got to sleep with Q in his bed, he started feeling like home was a possibility: there was room for trust in there, for peace and calm, and he lingered into Q's arms every time he fell asleep, trusting him with his life.
Even knowing that Madeleine had not betrayed him didn't cause him to leave Q; he made sure that Madeleine and Mathilde were safe, killed Safin and got the job done, but he wasn't looking for something in the past, for something he had missed. He wasn't looking back.
Lying in bed with Q, Bond was at ease and calm, relaxed by the steady breaths of the asleep quartermaster. They were naked under the duvet, right after an act that had been consumed under adrenaline, but Bond didn't care; he didn't need adrenaline to love Q like that, his love wasn't based on it and he didn't wait for Q to wake up, because he had stopped feeling lonely once his lover had fallen asleep.
Trying to not disturb his deserved rest after all of the emotions of the day (the agent got slapped for scaring him like that), Bond ran a hand through Q's humid hair, not expecting to find Vesper's face after kissing his forehead, not missing her like he had used to. She still lived in his memory, young and beautiful as he remembered her, but she wasn't his place: Vesper was in the past, he wasn't searching for her anymore.
The way Q shifted closer (probably seeking a source of heat) made Bond's heart beat faster and he claimed Q in his arms.
For once, love felt calm, there was no rush and it didn't need to be perfect; as long as he was with that man he didn't care about anything else.
His heart was home.
This is for everyone who feels unlovable and undeserving of affection. Your person is coming, your place is coming.
Thank you, Emmi.