Eve had once helped James shave. She had joked that he was putting his life in her hands. It was probably the closest James had ever come to completely trusting her.
Eve pretended that shooting him hadn't bothered her, but it shook her to her core. All those weeks she had thought he was dead...she went around doubting herself, hating herself. She had killed before; it was a job requirement at MI6. But killing a co-worker, and a person at times she could even call a friend, was vastly different. Even when she found out he was alive, she couldn't shake the negative feeling she had about fieldwork.
So she became a secretary. It was good work, with good pay and benefits. She liked M, liked Q, like the field agents...especially Bond.
It started out as flirting- doesn't it always? Quips and jokes and sexual tension. Then it became quickies in hotel rooms. Then overnight bouts of sex in her flat.
She would never call them boyfriend and girlfriend- it was sex. They respected each other, liked each other, could talk to each other. But it wasn't a relationship.
When she finally confessed to Q what was going on, she phrased it as “friends with benefits”. Q had simply stared at her with a raised eyebrow. She knew what he was thinking- that it sounded like she was in love with 007, and he was...well, he was 007. Love wasn't a option for him.
She didn't mean to get pregnant. It wasn't anything planned, or even anything she had thought about seriously. She liked being able to play the field- she dated when she wanted, when she wanted. Casual sex was par for the course. She had always been careful. But she forgot to go get her shot and then...she was staring at the lines on a pregnancy test.
She remembered throwing the test in the garbage and screaming her head off in despair. She knew it was Bond's, because she hadn't had sex with another man in months. Bond was away on a mission and she found herself in a huge mess.
She almost went and had an abortion several times. But her Catholic guilt, long stowed away and forgotten about, reared its ugly head. She couldn't do it. And as the days went by, she became more and more attached to her unborn baby. She decided to keep it.
When Bond came back from his mission, she gritted her teeth and told him. She explained all she wanted from him was a fair amount of child support- after all, a secretary's salary only goes so far. He didn't have to see her or the baby if he didn't want to, she said.
She had never seen Bond speechless, but he was. He seemed so thrown off balance that he just keep nodding, agreeing to all of her terms. She saw him only a couple more times during her pregnancy, since he was on some mission in Africa. He always treated her with the utmost respect and courtesy- asking her if she needed anything, if she needed help with doctor's bills. She was rather impressed with this more mature side of James.
He was still out of the country when Christina was born. With the help of her mum, Eve set up the nursery and adjusted to life as a mother. When she returned to work, no one asked about who the father was or where he was. Everyone just assumed Christina was the by product of one of Eve's many one-night stands.
Q knew, of course, and he must have been the one to tell Bond that the baby had been born. That was her only explanation when she opened the door one night several weeks after Christina's birth and saw Bond standing there.
“I thought you were in Africa,” she said stupidly, feeling severely undressed in her night robe. James of course, looked good enough to eat in his suit.
“I just got back. May I see her?”
Eve's brow furrowed in surprise. “Sure. Come in.” She led him down the hall to the baby's room. “She's sleeping but-,” she was surprised when he thrust a yellow blanket in her arms. “Um...”
“I wasn't sure what to get. I bought it before I came over. Q suggested yellow.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“She'll love it.” She tiptoed in the nursery. “Here she is. I named her Christina Eve Moneypenny.” She hadn't put Bond on the birth certificate- easier to keep it a secret that way.
He examined Christina carefully. She was so small, so delicate. She looked so much like Eve it made him smile.
The smile made Eve draw in a sharp breath. It was a smile tinged with interest, amusement and something like...pride.
Eve and James went back to their old ways that night. He would come over now and again and they would have sex. He would spend time doting on Christina and bring her elaborate and expensive gifts. When he would go away on a mission, she wouldn't hear from him for several months. During that time, she knew he was screwing other women. And thought it hurt her heart, she knew she had to move on. She couldn't keep her heart locked up in a man that couldn't love her back.
So she dated, too. She tried to tell herself that James was only Christina's father, nothing more. She dated nice guys, guys with good jobs and houses. Guys that her mother loved, guys that could provide her with a stable life. But she couldn't ever really fall in love. Every time James showed back up, she fell right back in bed with him.
“Have you missed me?” those blue eyes would never stop making her weak in the knees.
“Hardly,” she rolled her eyes, giving him a kiss. “But I'm glad you came.” She was happy she was wearing her tightest dress and highest red high heels. He looked over her appreciatively.
“You look amazing.” He pulled her next to his body and his muscles felt even harder than usual. His hand reached down to grope her ass.
“None of that.” She shook a finger at him. “Christina is here.”
“Good. I brought her something. It's in the hallway.”
“Christina!” Eve yelled. “Come in here, love.”
She watched as Christina ran into the room and straight into his arms. James exclaimed over how beautiful her dress was, twirling her around. Eve's chest felt heavy. James' charm was like a drug for all women, his daughter not excluded. Christina lived for his visits.
James scooped her up and left the kitchen. She heard them out in the hallway, chattering over the large dollhouse he had brought her. It was always gifts- expensive toys, dresses, games. He paid for the prestigious preschool she was attending. She let them have their time- after all, she had Christina all the time and Christina had her father around so rarely.
A while later, the nanny showed up (the actual nanny, not Q, who liked to boast that he was the most responsible babysitter for Christina, since he could give her mini science lessons). Eve and Bond exchanged a knowing look and Eve quickly arranged for the nanny to take Christina for the night. This was always the plan, and finally they were alone.
She didn't know how he always made her come. Something he did with his fingers. Or maybe it was the words he always mumbled against her skin when he was kissing his way down her body. Or maybe it was the way he moved when he was inside her. Whatever it was, it always worked.
After two rounds, they lay in bed, drinking together. He never talked about his missions. Sometimes he would complain about politics or the latest gadget Q had supplied him with. She told him all about Christina's school and how she had learned the alphabet.
She didn't like to think about their arrangement too much. Christina was still so little. She didn't realize her lack of a real father, one that was around on a day to day basis. Bond was around a few times a year and Christina treasured those visits. She thought her father was a banker- that was the lie Q and Eve had been feeding her for years. She was still too young to question why a banker would carry a gun on his person at all times and need to go on mysterious trips to the Middle East. Eve worried that one day, her daughter would grow up and feel a void. Feel unloved and unwanted by a man she worshipped.
She hoped James was willing to pay for therapy someday. She wasn't sure that mounds of gifts at Christmas and a few visits to the park would make up for all the nights he wasn't around.
He adored Christina. There was no doubt in Eve's mind that he loved his daughter, as much as he could, anyway. He wanted the best life for her. And Q had explained patiently to Eve once that maybe not having James around all the time was the best thing for Christina. After all, he was a trained killer with a volatile temper and a host of other issues, including alcoholism. Maybe his devotion and gifts and private school tuition were enough. Eve had to admit even to herself that Bond would never be able to handle Christina on his own.
“What are you thinking about?” He ran a finger down her bare spine.
“What?” she whispered, startled.
“You're lost in your own world. What are you thinking about?”
She propped herself up on an elbow and studied him. She wanted those eyes to run up and down her body forever. She wanted his breath on her skin, making her moan and yell out his name. She wanted him to fall in love with her every single time he looked at her, like she fell in love every single time she looked at him. She wanted things to not be so damn complicated. She wished she didn't love him with every single part of her body. She wished she didn't ache when he was away.
He smiled and she felt her heart break into little pieces once again.