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[Pam Bouvier]

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This is a first attempt, so please be honest, but be your usual, kind selves!
Although I am no where near the league of this sites fan fiction writers, they have given me the courage to give this a shot!



"I was told I could find James Bond here,"she told the nurse at the desk.

"Oh yes. Room 101. Back down the hall. Second door on the left."

Pam Bouvier turned on her heel and started back down the hall. At one time, she was told, Shrublands had been a first rate health resort. As she walked down the dreary hallway,she found it hard to imagine. The wallpaper was faded and drab. The air smelled of urine, institutional cooking, and despair. Your typical convalescent hospital.

How the hell did he end up here, she wondered, as she took care to watch out for some inmates as they took their morning walks. All clad in hospital gowns, walkers in tow, their eyes far away.

Once she stood in the doorway she found Bond speaking softly to the nurse, a small Asian woman of maybe 38, who was nodding as she completed her examination of his lower back.

As the nurse helped him out of bed and into a chair, pillow on the seat and walker within arms reach, Pam remembered the warning Felix Leiter had given her that morning.
"Don't be suprised at what you see. He's very different from the man you knew in Isthmis."

She took Bond in quickly, not allowing her face to give her away.

Bonds' eyes caught hers once the nurse moved away from him.

"I bet you don't remember who I am,"she said, leaning slightly against the wall.

"You're Miss Kennedy, my personal secretary,"he said without missing a beat. A smile forming on his lips," I knew it was you when I saw you get out of your car."
Pam Bouvier glanced out the window, her rent a car directly across from it.

She laughed and went to Bond,"Same old James, always one step ahead of me,"she said.
"What's this, "she inquired as Bond extended his hand to her and moved to hug him.
Gently,but firmly, Bond steered her away, holding her hand. His hand felt dry and slightly cool. "Still not waiting to be asked,"he teased her."I've picked up a bug in here. Don't want you telling Leiter you needed penicilin after you were with me."

Pam smiled at him,"Am I intruding?"

"Hardly. Felix called. Said you had run into each other at Heathrow. He was on his way back to Washington, you had just arrived."

Pam glanced around the small room as he spoke. An unread paper by the bed, a pile of get well cards, and a Bible neatly stacked on the bedside table a pair of reading glasses beside the pile. Bond himself was in navy robe and slippers. His frame was slight, but not frail. He must have lost 50 pounds, she thought. The hair, grey streaked thining strands. Although he had aged, he still was an attractive man. More urban looking, but his eyes still had a shine to them.

The nurse had brought a chair in as they spoke. Pam moved it closer to Bond and sat, legs crossed.

"Felix said you were here, but he didn't go into details. He said your kidneys started to fail and you'd been in the hospital."

"Yes, the doctors still can't figure out what really happened,"Bond said leaning back in the chair. He with the care of someone to whom pain had become as constant and unwelcome companion. He relied a story of sudden illiness while on holiday. As he described the symptoms, Pam grew more alarmed. It was a story all too framiliar.

"I can't believe you came,"Bond said suddenly.

Pam smiled,"I heard you were ill. I was shocked, James, I figured you were finally enjoying retirement..golfing, gambling, burning your.."wick" at both ends.."

"I still can't believe you came,"he said again. "I'm talking too much. Felix tells me you married."

Pam nodded and held her hand out. The simple, elegant, emerald cut diamond shining brightly in it's silver setting."Yes. We were on our way back from Paris
and I ran into Felix."

Bond looked puzzled,"Why are you both still in London?"

Edited by Pam Bouvier, 13 November 2005 - 09:35 PM.

[Pam Bouvier]

Pam shifted slightly in chair.

"I'm here on my own," she said avoiding his questioning gaze. She could still here her husband words ringing in her ears,"You want me to meet you Denver? Pam, you haven't seen him in, what, 15 years...you don't owe him anything."
It had been a tense, unpleasant exchange of words and wills at Heathrow. How could she make him understand. She did owe Bond, more than she cared to admit to her husband or herself.

She forced herself to meet the inquiring, steady eyes. Eyes she remembered so well, so fondly.

"I'm here on business,"she said.

"I thought you left "the business" shortly after the Sanchez affair."

"For a time,"she said remembering there last night in the Keys. He was heading back to London in the morning for a new assignment. She, at Leiter's insistance, to D. C. to pursue a staff position on the DEA's South American task force. They both knew career and personalities would make a future together unlikely...

"I'm actually not with DEA now. Left when I got married,"she said remembering the hellish wedding night of the Leiters'.

"It's not like you to hold back,Pam."

How can I tell him, she wondered. How can I tell him what his own government, a government he spent his life defending, as done to him?

[Pam Bouvier]

She looked away from his inquiring eyes," Things were less complicated in Isthimas."
Bond looked with her with an amused gaze,"Longing for the days when your biggest worry whether I was going to pursue Lupe LaMoor?"

"Don't you mean, when my biggest worry was how to save your a**,"she countered with a chuckle.

Bond laughed,"Those were the days,"his smile faded and he took her hand,"Tell me."

"James, as I said, I'm not with the DEA anymore. I was out of intelligence work until I got a call from an old army buddy."

Bond nodded. He recalled, even years later, Pam mentioning that she has been an army plot who had "..flown out of some of the worst hell hole in Southeast Asia"
as she angerly chaistized him for what she, at the time preceived, as his sexist nature.

He listened as she recalled a former army intelligence officer who suffered from the same symptums as Bond: kidney problems, memory loss, and lack of mobilty.

"Pam, it's a devastating situation, I agree, but-"

"James, he thought he was exposed to something in the field."

"Pam, we all know what can happen in the-"

"The agency knew, James," she lowered her voice as another guest walked by the open door."The bast**ds knew. It happened during a joint operation with MI6. In Russia. In the '90's. They were trying to bring a rogue agent in ..."

Bond squeezed her hand tighly as her voice trailed off. His eyes met hers.

"Who is he Pam?"

"His name was Jack Wade."

[Pam Bouvier]

"The Goldeneye mission,"Bond said more to himself than Pam.

Bouvier nodded,"Yes. Apparently Goldeneye wasn't the only thing the Janus group was involved in. Trevelyn and his people were transporting what is known now as IM29."

The use of IM29 was common knowledge in the intelligence community. An odorless, tasteless chemical, that when airborne could infect anyone within 25 miles of it. First developed by the Russians for use by the military, during a series of rebellions and civil wars. Later abandoned, once the Russians own soldiers became inadventantly exposed, the risk factor out weighed the benefits.

Bond pondered her statement,"If you're right, that explains why the Doctors have been at a loss. What shape is Wade in?"

Pam waited a moment before looking Bond squarely in the eye. "That's why I'm here. He's dead, James. There is an antidote. The Taliban has it and no one is willing to deal with them to get it. The whole "we don't negotiate with terrorists" line. It was Jack's last chance and the company said no way."

Bond sighed,"Wade was a good man. But Pam, you know they're right."

"James, don't you get it? They have the antidote because they don't want their people to die. They also have IM29 and plan to use it in the West."

Bond felt a chill down his back as she spoke. There had been too many near misses with the Taliban in the last few months, many involving chemical warfare weapons. The attempt to contaminate the water supply in White Plains, Georgia, the failed attempt to infect subway passengers with a fatal flu virus in Liverpool...IM29 was more deadly and virtually undictectable for several months. It could be planted in a metropolitan area easily and by the time anyone started showing symptoms, the exposure rate would be astranomical.