It had been six months since he had “died.” Three months since he had come back. Two and a half months since she had died. Two and a half months since he had stopped caring.
Two and a half months since he had stopped fighting. Two and a half months since he had felt anything other than empty.
He had been on leave for two months after he went overboard on his first mission after M’s death.
Bond didn’t even defend his actions when Mallory brought him in and assigned him the mandatory leave.
He knew that if M was still there she would have screamed her anger until he went deaf and then whispered her disappointment until he dropped his gaze and the urge to apologize built up in his
Instead, Mallory just sighed and sent him into temporary exile where Bond tried to numb the ache in his chest with booze and sex. But whiskey was still poison and sex was even more potent.
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