Bach to Bond

Q hit play.

The smooth, effortless notes drawn from the space between bow and strings fills the air.

He’s alone in bed.

He rolls onto his knees, head bowed for a moment before straightening each vertebrae and locking them together, finishing the move with a roll of his shoulders. Head tipped back towards the ceiling, he stretches his arms up, interlocking his palms and fingers.

The music plays on.

………………………………..

Each night spent with Bond always had the same effect.

Life after death.

With a sigh, Q flops forward, the piece coming to an end.

“Beautiful,” murmurs James from the doorway.

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