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Bond returned to his home. The empty house, the house that he has brought countless women to, seduced and made love to. Had he made love to them, or had he merely used them for a night of sex that he enjoyed so much. Did it matter? He removed his jacket and took out his Walther P99. He carried it with him to his kitchen and removed a bottle of Smirnoff Vodka from his fridge, promptly moved to a nearby cupboard and took out a glass. He made his way to his sitting room and sat down. The bottle was put on the table, as were the glass and Walther. He opened the bottle, poured the glass halfway and drank. The taste of vodka in his mouth tasted good. He let it wash down as he thought of Brakovsky, the Afghan dipolmat he has just killed in Russia, the attempt to arm the nuclear weapon and the disaster that was averted in seconds. Moscow would never know how close it and a large portion of the rest of the country came to nuclear devastation. He had saved the world...again. Would the rest of the world ever hear of it? No. Would he be called of to another mission tomorrow? Yes, and chances are when he came back to his empty home he would ask that question again, and the answer would always be the same.
He looked to his bedroom and the empty bed, one of the few times it had been. He always imagined how things would have turned out had...had...
He had to forget it, it was a long time ago. She was dead a long time. He had never let anybody in before, no one had gotten close, except for Tracy. There had been women before Tracy, so many he had lost count, but she got in, under the surface and managed to find her way to his heart. It was nice. No one else had, but she did. Never before or since had he let anyone in the way she did, and he loved her. They had all the time in the world and there in lay the problem. He had all the time in the world. He was living fast, he could die young, but what was the point. None of his relationships were lasting, but then again, he was 007, licence to kill, agent of MI6. It never ended well. He could never let them in, even if he tried, he couldn't. Was it that he afraid to, he didn't know. The last thing he wanted was to cradle another dead loved one in his arms.
He took another glass of vodka and downed it in one mouthful. It was time to get some sleep.