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Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if I had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Many people have died with James Bond’s ice blue eyes boring into theirs. Ice is the last image they see before they die. Unless they pissed the man off the end was always quick, ice and then black, quick and nearly painless, a gun to the head and lights out almost instantaneously. Unless they really piss James off, death was easy, quick. If the dead men and women could talk they might even mention that they would die twice by his hand if they had to die again.
A quick flash of ice…and then sleep.
Fire was a poor way to die comparatively. It was slower, drawn out, and hurt like hell. Fire only came for four men, four men who made a grave error. James had been walking home when he had been shot from behind, in the shoulder. Four men jumped him, assaulted him when he tried to get up, took his things from him, and left him for dead in the streets. It hadn’t been a fair fight, had James slept for more than two hours in the forty-eight before the incident, had he had his gun, had he not already been shot twice, he might have fared better in the scruff. As it was he wasn’t supposed to have left medical…he just wanted to go home to sleep, he wanted to be in his own bed with Q next to him.
James went back into the hospital and the fire began to burn.
Q went on the hunt, desire to destroy was burning in his heart. It wasn’t strictly official and it wasn’t a good use of resources, but Q searched and found each of the four people who had dared hurt James.
The first man didn’t know what was coming, he only met a sweet, handsome, flirtatious man at the bar. He brought the flirtatious, green-eyed man home. Then he was tied down and tortured for hours before the man finally told him why he was screaming.
“You shouldn’t have touched James Bond.” Q whispered, leaving the gas on as he left the flat, igniting the fire as he left.
The second man was shot three times and left to bleed out in an alley
The third was tortured within an inch of his life and was screaming for mercy before Q finally killed him.
The fourth was burned inch by inch with a metal rod, bit by bit. It took days to make sure that every inch of flesh was bubbled up and blistered. No one knew why there was a body left in a street, blistered, shot three times and set on fire.
None of them saw the fire coming, none of them saw it chasing them, but once the fire took it burned hot and painful and there was absolutely no stopping it.
“Q…?”
“Yes, James?” Q asked, sitting next to James’ side. He’d finally been allowed to come home and they were both curled up next to each other.
“You killed them.”
“Yes.” Q answered simply, no regret in his voice.
“I saw the bodies.”
“I thought you might…”
“Remind me to never piss you off.” James commented. “You alright?”
“They deserved it.” Q shrugged before he pressed a loving kiss against James’ lips before pulling him closer. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”