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recollections of wind chimes and dynamite
( ao3 )
it’s when james remembers that it hurts the most.
when he remembers the clicks of old typewriters, the heaviness of the keys that he had been forced to push down until the paint had begun to wear away and he’d been reprimanded by the agents upstairs. when he remembers the, what? fifteen minutes he’d been married to the love of his life? how she’d laughed, how she’d kissed and held his hand and let him hold her. how her blood had been sprayed against his face.
how the booze had tasted so sour in the days that had followed.
Because I spent Saturday watching football, drinking beer, and reading Bond/Q fic and Pax wanted some recs: