#pretender!alec

[thatsuittho]

December fic roundup

I wrote some 00Q, wanted to get better at writing 00q00 and then I fell into an Alec-shaped hole without meaning to and I’ve been sorting these AUs out and they grew so much that I guess I’m writing Variations of Alec Trevelyan for a few months. (These are my biggest efforts yet, so someone help me I’m not equipped for this lol.)

MI6 Cafe Prompt Fills:

the food fairy fiasco -  Q-branch has a mysterious benefactor that leaves baked goods without a trace. Bond gets jealous. 00Q

Pull of you | holiday, interrupted - (Q-centric urban fantasy AU) Q's yacht explodes while on holiday in the Celtic Sea. In the subsequent weeks, while the police investigate the cause of the bombing, he searches for his mysterious savior. Thanks to @darkjediqueen for the alpha read and @angel-n-darkness for providing me with a logical perpetrator. (Updated weekly)

A very good team II - Spies doing spy stuff (Background 00Q00)

Explicit sex:

Four, two, six, twelve - (Warning A/B/O dynamics; consensual sex)  Futurefic set after Attention. Bond is drugged and abducted mid-mission. He wakes up to find the quartermaster incapacitated and R urging him back to London. OOQ

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Variations of Alec Trevelyan

Pretender!Alec, inspired by The Pretender (ultimately civilian!James/Alec, worldbuilding stage):

ficlet 1, age 6 | ficlet 2, age 20-23 | ficlet 3, age 15 |

In an alternate universe, double-O agent Olivia Mansfield, 38, returns to MI6 with six-year-old Alec Trevelyan after betraying his parents to the Russian troika. MI6 realizes Alec is a Pretender, a genius with the ability ‘to become anyone he wants to be’, and spends the next twelve years training him to be the perfect undercover agent.  (This one is wikipedia’s fault for implying MI6 looked after Alec after his father committed murder-suicide. Poor wording got the creative juices flowing.)

Legends!Alec, spoiler-filled crossover between TNT:Legends S1 and Craig!Bond movies (past James/Alec, current multiple pairings, plotted and rough draft in progress): 

WIP Wednesday snippets can be found under this tag: legends!alec 

The year is 2014 and Martin Odum is on the run. In London, Q and James discover everyone in MI6 has been lied to for over a decade. Alec Trevelyan, going by the name Martin, is alive and well, if a little shell-shocked by recent events. Together, the three men must deal with the ramifications of Martin’s situation and uncover who is willing to kill to ensure Martin never remembers his past.

[thatsuittho]

ficlet: trevelyan, the freak of MI6

Alec Trevelyan, pretender inspired au, early 20s, newly minted 006

“There he goes, the freak of MI6.” Hawke’s senior agent muttered. Hawke automatically craned his neck to glance around the hallway. A blonde man dressed in black fatigues was walking in the opposite direction.

“Trevelyan. Stay away from him. Word is anyone that gets too close ends up with a dead-end career up north.”

“Why’s he called a freak, sir?” Hawke whispered, still looking back surreptitiously. The blonde’s head twitched and he spun around, face red. His supervising officer had no compunction and answered him at conversation volume.

“He’s the new 00. They sure take them young these days,” he added, obnoxiously loud, then continued, “Lad’s a sponge: he has M-branch’s highest success rate for deep cover missions but he’s no personality of his own. Nothing about him is normal and we can’t find out where he’s come from, either.”

“A double-O?” Hawke gaped. “He doesn’t look a day over 20. Is that legal?”

“Take it up with M,” the older agent shrugged. “He vetted Trevelyan personally.” Hawke decided he was better off forgetting about the mysterious 006.

—

Years passed before they crossed paths again, quite literally, in the same hallway. Hawke almost didn’t recognize the younger man he bumped into because he hadn’t gotten a good look the first time. It was Trevelyan that remembered him.

“Agent,” the blonde smiled broadly. “Hawke, isn’t that right? We passed each other on the way to your evals three years ago. You caught an earful about me.”

Just like then, Hawke went red with displaced embarrassment and gaped at 006, speechless. The man had no tact, whatsoever! And his smile sent chills down Hawke’s spine. It was a handsome smile; Hawke bet all the ladies and some gents would swoon at the sight - all cheekbones, crinkled eyes and even, perfect teeth. And yet Hawke got a foreboding feeling that reminded him of his former supervisor’s words. Trevelyan was smiling, but his body language was that of a predator.

It made him extremely nervous that Trevelyan remembered him so clearly. And recognized him when he’d grown a beard in the last six months.

He hoped his reservations weren’t plastered all over his face. “Agent, I didn’t catch a good look at your face, so you have me at a disadvantage. How have you been?”

Trevelyan tilted his head a fraction, smile broadening, exposing his canines. “I’ve spent most of my time deployed overseas. The rebellion in Crimea from 1988-1990? That was me. I just got back from infiltrating diamond mines in the Ivory Coast.”

Hawke was thrown off by the absence of small talk. How the bloody hell could this man stay undercover for months and years as blind as he was to social cues? Weren’t agents in the double-O branch supposed to be the most subtle and charming in the entire British intelligence community?

“Um, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you’re able to decompress and reacclimate before your next assignment,” he stammered.

“Do I look unwell?” Trevelyan lost his smile, affecting a genuinely puzzled frown. Hawke glanced furtively around the corridor for a distraction. This conversation had derailed into unwanted territory as soon as it started and there was no salvaging it. “No, of course not. It’s just an expression.”

“What does it mean? When is it commonly applied in conversation?” Trevelyan approached with every word and Hawke abruptly realized he hadn’t actually had 006’s attention before. “Is the question literal? Is it normal to comment on a person’s physical health?”

Hawke realized he was well and truly stuck. He mentally groaned.

Christ, 006 was a freak.

[thatsuittho]

ficlet: alec, welcome to england

I’m working on two longer stories for Every Fandom Bang that are variations of Alec Trevelyan. Legends!Alec is coming along very well, so it’s time to get off my @$$ and get pretender!Alec going.

Alec Trevelyan, Pretender-inspired AU, Age six

“Report, 009.” M’s gaze drew downwards. “Why is there a child in my office?”

“This is Alec Trevelyan,” Olivia Mansfield nudged him forward, only to be refused. Alec planted his tiny feet and kept his head bowed.

“Rude little bugger, isn’t he?” M remarked, unimpressed.

“He did have a trying day, sir.” Olivia gave up trying to get Alec to play nice. 

“They didn’t tell us they had a child during negotiations. As ordered, I retrieved the package from Austria and made them believe we were traveling to England for asylum. I successfully transferred the package to the Troika’s military where they were immediately destroyed. The package was not allowed to touch Russian soil.”

“You’re a soft touch, 009. Did your motherly instincts get in the way of your common sense?” M snapped. “We’re an intelligence agency, not a nursery. What will we do with a toddler?”

“I’m six!” Alec burst out in thickly accented English. “And I want my Mama and Papa! Where did you send them?”

A shrewd expression crossed M’s face. He knelt down, keeping a reassuring distance so as not to overwhelm the boy. “Do you remember what happened today, Alec? That your parents left you behind? They changed their minds, you know. They went back to Russia without you.”

Teary-eyed, Alec finally lifted his face and looked from one grown-up to the other. “My papa wouldn’t do that. He loves me. He said we were going to be happy in England!”

M affected a tender mask. “I’m sorry, Alec. But you are in England now, and your parents chose to stay in Russia. We can take responsibility for you. We’ll school you and feed you and give you a place to sleep until you’re all big. And perhaps then you’d like to work for us so you can go back to Russia and look for your parents.”

Without waiting for acknowledgement, M turned his gaze on Olivia. “Take him to M-branch housing for the night, 009. I’ll make a few phone calls and we’ll get him established.”

Olivia nodded sharply and ushered Alec out. The boy, bewildered and on the verge of sobbing, stumbled under her stern hand, but his face remained dry. M took note of that. The quartermaster will like his steel, he thought. He reached for the phone and dialed Q-branch.

“Boothroyd speaking.” The quartermaster greeted.

“Q, it’s M. I have a candidate for your Pretender programme.”