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ficlet: James Bond fanfic
Good heavens, it's something other than SGA fic for a change ...
So I have this weird soft spot for the Ian Fleming James Bond books. I *know* they're horribly sexist and racist and not even very well written, and they do get repetitive after a while (in fact, there are a couple I *still* haven't read all the way through, because I hit my stall-out point on the series in about the same place every time). And I don't like the movies much, although the Timothy Dalton ones are OK -- coming closer to the book Bond than any of the others. But the books ... yeah. Mostly because of Felix Leiter, who I adore, and who has NEVER been done right in the movies. Bond, they get close every once in a while, but Felix? Never. I'm kind of torn about Casino Royale, which I haven't seen yet; as far as I can tell, they did a great job with Bond, and followed the book very closely. But Felix? I know I shouldn't make snap judgments before seeing the film, but the promo shots and reviews that I've seen give me very little hope that the latest incarnation of Felix comes anywhere close to capturing the elements of his character that I love so much in the books.
Book!Felix is basically Bond through a glass lightly; he's the flip side of Bond's dark coin. In the books, Felix and Bond are best friends. They're about the same age and they're both in the same line of work (Bond spying for Britain, Felix for the U.S.), but where Bond is straight-laced and serious, Felix is happy and good-humored -- he's practically too *nice* to be a spy, really -- and he brings out the lighter side of Bond in a very delightful way. Also, in the books, the shark attack that was used as a plot device in "License to Kill" actually occurs pretty early in the series, and where I truly lost my heart to Felix was in Diamonds are Forever, the next book, when he turns out to be more badass than Bond with ONE ARM AND ONE LEG. I mean, DAMN, Felix. He's also capable of driving a stick shift sports car with only one arm and one leg, too, which is just cool.
Anyway, after my last re-read of the books a couple of years ago, I wrote a little Felix-centric fanfic, and I was going through my old stuff tonight and decided to dust it off and post it here. This takes place between the books Live and Let Die and Diamonds are Forever ... basically a missing scene, of sorts. The final scene is from the book Diamonds are Forever, only from Felix's point of view.
Another interesting thing about this story is that I was obviously trying to emulate Fleming's writing style -- as I usually do when I write bookfic -- including the slightly overwhelming macho-ness of his guys and feminine-ness of his women. I'm not sure how effective it was. Kind of fun, though.
Title: Solitary Pursuits
Fandom: James Bond (books)
Rating: general
Word Count: ~1700
Solitary Pursuits
New York.
Felix Leiter was not a man who ever thought about suicide. He had nothing but contempt for men and women who chose to end their lives that way. But today, for the first and perhaps only time, he leaned with his good arm on the railing of the Empire State Building's viewing platform and felt the siren song of the pavement so far below.
The moment passed; the wind cleared his head. He raised his eyes to the skyline of the city, the pillars of glass and steel rising from a low gray haze.
Desk job.
He might have known it was coming. It still hurt. Most of his adult life he'd given to this agency. And, it was true that they weren't turning him out onto the street ... but there was no place for him behind a desk.
He had a brief, vivid mental image of himself -- blond hair turned gray, face shadowed and drawn with a lifetime's regrets, quietly typing at a small desk wedged between a copy machine and the door to the men's room. A shudder passed through him. No. He hadn't fought his way back from a hell most men could only imagine, through months of surgery and therapy, for that kind of life.
"Nice view," said a quiet, husky woman's voice near his shoulder. A familiar voice.
Felix turned his head in surprise. Seeing her here, amid the everyday banality of the tourists thronging the railing, left him momentarily voiceless. Solitaire. He had last seen her before ... well, before. Months ago. Very long months ago.
"I had heard you were here in New York. I didn't expect to just run into you sightseeing, however." Her eyes searched his face. What was she looking for, he wondered. Scars? There would be a few, showing red along his hairline. Bitterness? The look of a lost and crippled man? Ah, no ... he didn't think she would find that, since he didn't feel it in his heart. To the extent possible for a spy, Felix believed in wearing his heart on his sleeve ... even if the sleeve was all he had left of the arm beneath it.
"What happened? The last I heard, you and James had run off somewhere together."
Solitaire shrugged and dropped her eyes from his face, but not before he saw pain flicker there. "If you are James Bond's friend, then you know what he is like."
"James is a one-woman man," Leiter said with automatic loyalty, although he mentally appended ... at a time.
Solitaire laughed. He couldn't ever remember hearing her laugh before. She seemed much more relaxed than the frightened, runaway gangster's girlfriend that she had been when he met her the first time. And he hurt suddenly, aching with mixed emotions: nostalgia for brief happy hours by the sea, camaraderie in the midst of danger ... joy shattering into a nightmare haze of pain, drugs and hospitals.
He blinked, shaking himself back to reality. She was speaking.
"... is always one other woman, Felix. Her name is the British Secret Service. I believe James is wedded to her; he may have mistresses aplenty, but he will never take another wife."
Felix smiled. "If he meets the right woman, you may be surprised."
"Then I must not have been that woman," she said, with only a trace of bitterness.
"I wouldn't know it to look at you," Felix said. She was as beautiful as he'd remembered, a study in contrasts, white skin and black hair. She was dressed today in a conservative but classy cream-colored silk suit. James always did have excellent -- though expensive -- taste in women.
Solitaire started to speak, then closed her mouth, and smiled. Leiter took that as encouragement, and he said, "I was about to get a bite to eat; I wouldn't mind such lovely company, to brighten a dull day. We can catch up."
"You've been taking charm lessons from James again," Solitaire said, but she took the arm he offered ... his left arm: the one of flesh and blood.
Lunch was a quiet affair in a small restaurant that Leiter favored, slightly out of the way. They made small talk, caught up on their lives since leaving the islands. Leiter didn't speak of surgery or rehabilitation, but there wasn't much else to speak of, since that had largely been his life since he'd seen her last. He saw that Solitaire's eyes kept going to the steel hook resting on the edge of the table, and she ended up carrying most of the conversation. In the end, though, he did tell her briefly of his demotion to desk jockey.
"I can't see you being happy at a desk," Solitaire said. "You're very like James that way."
Being constantly compared to James Bond was wearing on a man. On the other hand, you got used to it, being James's friend.
"Have you thought about doing something else?" she continued.
Leiter raised his eyebrows. "Like what? Go back to my daddy's ranch and herd cattle?"
He delivered the suggestion in his flat Texas drawl and Solitaire took the bait hook, line and sinker. Her eyes widened. "Your father has a ranch?"
Leiter laughed. "No. The only thing my father ever herded was money. I'm a banker's son, don't let the accent fool you. But seriously, Solitaire, I can't imagine what else I'd do. This kind of work is all I know."
"But if they're not treating you well, you don't have to stay with the, er..." She looked around, dropped her voice. "The same employer."
Felix opened his mouth to tell her that being employed by the U.S. government wasn't exactly like working for a five-and-dime; you couldn't just move over to the competitor across the street. But the words died on his lips, because she was right. There were all kinds of other options right under his nose. He could think of a half-dozen people he knew in all sorts of security firms who would probably give him a field job in a heartbeat, arm or no arm.
Solitaire bent over the table -- giving him a good and undoubtedly intentional view down the top of her silk suit -- and peered into his face. "Why, I do believe you're thinking it over?"
"Contemplating my options."
She smiled, touched her full lips to the mouth of her wine glass, but did not drink. She seemed to be considering her words. When she finally spoke, she said, "About everything?"
Leiter raised his eyebrows again, and waited for her to explain herself. Instead, she leaned boldly across the table and brushed his lips with hers. Then she leaned farther yet, for a deeper kiss. She tasted of mint, lilac and white wine.
Leiter savored the kiss, then pushed her gently away. "As a one-armed man, I must say I appreciate the affirmation of my manhood," he said with a quick grin. "But James is my friend, and you were his girl."
"I'm not his girl any longer."
"No," Leiter said, "but friendship aside, speaking as a man, I don't think I'd want a woman to look in my eyes hoping to see another man looking back."
A shadow of anger crossed Solitaire's face, but then she laughed. "No, I suppose you're right."
"When you get over James, if you're still interested, come back and see me then."
He had feared anger, hurt, tears ... but she only laughed again. "Perhaps I will."
Coda - 8 months later
It was pure chance that Leiter happened to be on that street on that day. He was stretching his legs ... well, leg; he'd taken to long walks throughout the city as a way of building up his atrophied muscles and getting used to moving with grace despite the artificial leg. By now, he hoped his gait was natural enough that any observer would assume he was merely an ordinary two-legged man with a slight limp. If your enemies could spot a weakness, he knew, they could and would use it against you.
So he was strolling along, scanning the crowds with his usual watchfulness, when he caught a glimpse of the lean, familiar, dark-haired figure, coming in his direction.
It couldn't be! James, here in New York? But of course it could, Leiter thought. Bond got around.
He dropped quietly back to pursuit mode, slipping with ease into the familiar habits of holding a tail. He could tell that Bond suspected something; there were frequent glances over his shoulder, and a general wariness to his posture. Leiter felt his lips pull back in his customary grin. James's instincts were as sharp as his own. Matching wits against him was pure joy.
He trailed Bond for several blocks and could see his quarry becoming ever more wary, sensing the pursuit even though Leiter knew he had not been seen. The moment came, finally: a moment when Bond was looking the other way, and Leiter had worked his way close enough that two quick steps brought him close enough to touch his friend's back. Ah, James, you're lucky I'm on your side. Let's teach you a lesson, shall we?
He seized Bond's arm with his hook in a well-practiced motion, while jamming the first two knuckles of his left hand into his friend's back. He couldn't keep the grin off his face, but he managed to keep it out of his voice as he growled, "All right, Limey. Take it easy unless you want lead for lunch."
He saw Bond's dark head duck down to the side, almost imperceptibly. Bond had noticed the missing hand, and, still thinking himself under attack, thought to use that weakness against his assailant. Lightning-fast, he spun around, aiming a fist at Leiter's stomach. Leiter's reflexes had always been as fast as Bond's, though, and he caught the fist in his left hand, laughing. Even with one arm and one leg, it was nice to know he could still get the drop on James Bond. "Not so good, James. You must be getting old."
Disbelief and then surprised delight spread across Bond's sharp, dark face, and Leiter answered Bond's grin with one of his own.
I'm all right. WE'RE all right.
He hadn't really known it until then.
~fin~
So I have this weird soft spot for the Ian Fleming James Bond books. I *know* they're horribly sexist and racist and not even very well written, and they do get repetitive after a while (in fact, there are a couple I *still* haven't read all the way through, because I hit my stall-out point on the series in about the same place every time). And I don't like the movies much, although the Timothy Dalton ones are OK -- coming closer to the book Bond than any of the others. But the books ... yeah. Mostly because of Felix Leiter, who I adore, and who has NEVER been done right in the movies. Bond, they get close every once in a while, but Felix? Never. I'm kind of torn about Casino Royale, which I haven't seen yet; as far as I can tell, they did a great job with Bond, and followed the book very closely. But Felix? I know I shouldn't make snap judgments before seeing the film, but the promo shots and reviews that I've seen give me very little hope that the latest incarnation of Felix comes anywhere close to capturing the elements of his character that I love so much in the books.
Book!Felix is basically Bond through a glass lightly; he's the flip side of Bond's dark coin. In the books, Felix and Bond are best friends. They're about the same age and they're both in the same line of work (Bond spying for Britain, Felix for the U.S.), but where Bond is straight-laced and serious, Felix is happy and good-humored -- he's practically too *nice* to be a spy, really -- and he brings out the lighter side of Bond in a very delightful way. Also, in the books, the shark attack that was used as a plot device in "License to Kill" actually occurs pretty early in the series, and where I truly lost my heart to Felix was in Diamonds are Forever, the next book, when he turns out to be more badass than Bond with ONE ARM AND ONE LEG. I mean, DAMN, Felix. He's also capable of driving a stick shift sports car with only one arm and one leg, too, which is just cool.
Anyway, after my last re-read of the books a couple of years ago, I wrote a little Felix-centric fanfic, and I was going through my old stuff tonight and decided to dust it off and post it here. This takes place between the books Live and Let Die and Diamonds are Forever ... basically a missing scene, of sorts. The final scene is from the book Diamonds are Forever, only from Felix's point of view.
Another interesting thing about this story is that I was obviously trying to emulate Fleming's writing style -- as I usually do when I write bookfic -- including the slightly overwhelming macho-ness of his guys and feminine-ness of his women. I'm not sure how effective it was. Kind of fun, though.
Title: Solitary Pursuits
Fandom: James Bond (books)
Rating: general
Word Count: ~1700
Solitary Pursuits
New York.
Felix Leiter was not a man who ever thought about suicide. He had nothing but contempt for men and women who chose to end their lives that way. But today, for the first and perhaps only time, he leaned with his good arm on the railing of the Empire State Building's viewing platform and felt the siren song of the pavement so far below.
The moment passed; the wind cleared his head. He raised his eyes to the skyline of the city, the pillars of glass and steel rising from a low gray haze.
Desk job.
He might have known it was coming. It still hurt. Most of his adult life he'd given to this agency. And, it was true that they weren't turning him out onto the street ... but there was no place for him behind a desk.
He had a brief, vivid mental image of himself -- blond hair turned gray, face shadowed and drawn with a lifetime's regrets, quietly typing at a small desk wedged between a copy machine and the door to the men's room. A shudder passed through him. No. He hadn't fought his way back from a hell most men could only imagine, through months of surgery and therapy, for that kind of life.
"Nice view," said a quiet, husky woman's voice near his shoulder. A familiar voice.
Felix turned his head in surprise. Seeing her here, amid the everyday banality of the tourists thronging the railing, left him momentarily voiceless. Solitaire. He had last seen her before ... well, before. Months ago. Very long months ago.
"I had heard you were here in New York. I didn't expect to just run into you sightseeing, however." Her eyes searched his face. What was she looking for, he wondered. Scars? There would be a few, showing red along his hairline. Bitterness? The look of a lost and crippled man? Ah, no ... he didn't think she would find that, since he didn't feel it in his heart. To the extent possible for a spy, Felix believed in wearing his heart on his sleeve ... even if the sleeve was all he had left of the arm beneath it.
"What happened? The last I heard, you and James had run off somewhere together."
Solitaire shrugged and dropped her eyes from his face, but not before he saw pain flicker there. "If you are James Bond's friend, then you know what he is like."
"James is a one-woman man," Leiter said with automatic loyalty, although he mentally appended ... at a time.
Solitaire laughed. He couldn't ever remember hearing her laugh before. She seemed much more relaxed than the frightened, runaway gangster's girlfriend that she had been when he met her the first time. And he hurt suddenly, aching with mixed emotions: nostalgia for brief happy hours by the sea, camaraderie in the midst of danger ... joy shattering into a nightmare haze of pain, drugs and hospitals.
He blinked, shaking himself back to reality. She was speaking.
"... is always one other woman, Felix. Her name is the British Secret Service. I believe James is wedded to her; he may have mistresses aplenty, but he will never take another wife."
Felix smiled. "If he meets the right woman, you may be surprised."
"Then I must not have been that woman," she said, with only a trace of bitterness.
"I wouldn't know it to look at you," Felix said. She was as beautiful as he'd remembered, a study in contrasts, white skin and black hair. She was dressed today in a conservative but classy cream-colored silk suit. James always did have excellent -- though expensive -- taste in women.
Solitaire started to speak, then closed her mouth, and smiled. Leiter took that as encouragement, and he said, "I was about to get a bite to eat; I wouldn't mind such lovely company, to brighten a dull day. We can catch up."
"You've been taking charm lessons from James again," Solitaire said, but she took the arm he offered ... his left arm: the one of flesh and blood.
Lunch was a quiet affair in a small restaurant that Leiter favored, slightly out of the way. They made small talk, caught up on their lives since leaving the islands. Leiter didn't speak of surgery or rehabilitation, but there wasn't much else to speak of, since that had largely been his life since he'd seen her last. He saw that Solitaire's eyes kept going to the steel hook resting on the edge of the table, and she ended up carrying most of the conversation. In the end, though, he did tell her briefly of his demotion to desk jockey.
"I can't see you being happy at a desk," Solitaire said. "You're very like James that way."
Being constantly compared to James Bond was wearing on a man. On the other hand, you got used to it, being James's friend.
"Have you thought about doing something else?" she continued.
Leiter raised his eyebrows. "Like what? Go back to my daddy's ranch and herd cattle?"
He delivered the suggestion in his flat Texas drawl and Solitaire took the bait hook, line and sinker. Her eyes widened. "Your father has a ranch?"
Leiter laughed. "No. The only thing my father ever herded was money. I'm a banker's son, don't let the accent fool you. But seriously, Solitaire, I can't imagine what else I'd do. This kind of work is all I know."
"But if they're not treating you well, you don't have to stay with the, er..." She looked around, dropped her voice. "The same employer."
Felix opened his mouth to tell her that being employed by the U.S. government wasn't exactly like working for a five-and-dime; you couldn't just move over to the competitor across the street. But the words died on his lips, because she was right. There were all kinds of other options right under his nose. He could think of a half-dozen people he knew in all sorts of security firms who would probably give him a field job in a heartbeat, arm or no arm.
Solitaire bent over the table -- giving him a good and undoubtedly intentional view down the top of her silk suit -- and peered into his face. "Why, I do believe you're thinking it over?"
"Contemplating my options."
She smiled, touched her full lips to the mouth of her wine glass, but did not drink. She seemed to be considering her words. When she finally spoke, she said, "About everything?"
Leiter raised his eyebrows again, and waited for her to explain herself. Instead, she leaned boldly across the table and brushed his lips with hers. Then she leaned farther yet, for a deeper kiss. She tasted of mint, lilac and white wine.
Leiter savored the kiss, then pushed her gently away. "As a one-armed man, I must say I appreciate the affirmation of my manhood," he said with a quick grin. "But James is my friend, and you were his girl."
"I'm not his girl any longer."
"No," Leiter said, "but friendship aside, speaking as a man, I don't think I'd want a woman to look in my eyes hoping to see another man looking back."
A shadow of anger crossed Solitaire's face, but then she laughed. "No, I suppose you're right."
"When you get over James, if you're still interested, come back and see me then."
He had feared anger, hurt, tears ... but she only laughed again. "Perhaps I will."
Coda - 8 months later
It was pure chance that Leiter happened to be on that street on that day. He was stretching his legs ... well, leg; he'd taken to long walks throughout the city as a way of building up his atrophied muscles and getting used to moving with grace despite the artificial leg. By now, he hoped his gait was natural enough that any observer would assume he was merely an ordinary two-legged man with a slight limp. If your enemies could spot a weakness, he knew, they could and would use it against you.
So he was strolling along, scanning the crowds with his usual watchfulness, when he caught a glimpse of the lean, familiar, dark-haired figure, coming in his direction.
It couldn't be! James, here in New York? But of course it could, Leiter thought. Bond got around.
He dropped quietly back to pursuit mode, slipping with ease into the familiar habits of holding a tail. He could tell that Bond suspected something; there were frequent glances over his shoulder, and a general wariness to his posture. Leiter felt his lips pull back in his customary grin. James's instincts were as sharp as his own. Matching wits against him was pure joy.
He trailed Bond for several blocks and could see his quarry becoming ever more wary, sensing the pursuit even though Leiter knew he had not been seen. The moment came, finally: a moment when Bond was looking the other way, and Leiter had worked his way close enough that two quick steps brought him close enough to touch his friend's back. Ah, James, you're lucky I'm on your side. Let's teach you a lesson, shall we?
He seized Bond's arm with his hook in a well-practiced motion, while jamming the first two knuckles of his left hand into his friend's back. He couldn't keep the grin off his face, but he managed to keep it out of his voice as he growled, "All right, Limey. Take it easy unless you want lead for lunch."
He saw Bond's dark head duck down to the side, almost imperceptibly. Bond had noticed the missing hand, and, still thinking himself under attack, thought to use that weakness against his assailant. Lightning-fast, he spun around, aiming a fist at Leiter's stomach. Leiter's reflexes had always been as fast as Bond's, though, and he caught the fist in his left hand, laughing. Even with one arm and one leg, it was nice to know he could still get the drop on James Bond. "Not so good, James. You must be getting old."
Disbelief and then surprised delight spread across Bond's sharp, dark face, and Leiter answered Bond's grin with one of his own.
I'm all right. WE'RE all right.
He hadn't really known it until then.
~fin~
no subject
I especially loved the ending of your story, where Felix reaffirms both his worth as an agent and his friendship with James. Marvellous!
no subject
And it's also so very nice to know I'm not the only one! Usually when I mention the books to people, I get a blank stare or a "You like THAT?" kind of response. And the books aren't really the sort of thing that you can unreservedly recommend to most people, because there are really *so* many things about them that are very dated (to put it politely).
no subject
I'll admit I preferred Pierce Brosnan the best, though I considered him AU Bond and not the real thing.
I haven't re-read the books in years just because of the darkness and sexism you mentioned. My memory goes right to the awful things James did and had done to him, including the death of his wife, and I just hate to put myself through that. I doubt if very many other people these days would really get into them either. Except for the titles and a few major plot points, the books have very little in common with today's movies, that's for sure!
no subject
I need to be in the right mood for the books, though, and now that I've re-read them, I doubt if I'll be in the mood again for another ten or twenty years. They *are* very dark, very ambiguous books, and there are times when you wonder if you should be rooting for the hero or against him.
Like you, I read the books first, and was just turned off by the movies. Except for one of the Brosnan ones and the Dalton ones, I haven't seen any of them all the way through. It was such an utterly different take on the character -- a very Hollywood-ized version of Fleming's dark, conflicted Bond.
no subject
I found this after googling various combinations of "james bond" and "fic", and I'm very glad I did. It's a lovely description of friendship, of Felix (though I'm not really an expert on book!Felix), and it was nice to get a glimpse of a post-Bond life of a Bond girl.
no subject