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maderrOnly, like, a page. If this completely sucks, feel free to say. I have one vote for 'nice', already.
Much to my dismay, Bond, Mummy, etc etc do not belong to me. I think we all know what would be happening if Craig and Fehr were mine.
James woke with a start, but long years of hard-learned lessons kept him from moving.
He stared up at the ceiling, uncomprehending for a moment. Usually, he was not so slow. A moment later his mind began to work, and he realized it was not a ceiling at which he stared. Of all things, it was a tent.
He had woken in stranger places, to be sure, however, those usually came with logical explanations. At present, he could recall no good or bad reason he should be lying in a tent.
A quick, subtle examination proved his limbs to be unsecured. So, the chances he was a prisoner lessened slightly. The temperature, the very feel of the air, told him he was in a desert.
There it was, and obviously his landing had been a bit rougher than anticipated, if it had taken him so long to recall his situation. Next time, he would not be quite so decisive in choosing to shoot the pilot. He was apparently still learning the hard way that pilots always had tricks up their sleeves.
Nasty tricks that apparently landed him in the desert, somewhere.
Tired of lying still, James sat up—immediately regretting the way the tent spun around, but sitting and dizzy was better than lying down and holding still.
As quick as that, he felt eyes upon him.
Glancing up, he immediately snapped to the presence that must have been there all the while, but which he had not felt until this moment. When, he realized, his watcher had chosen to let his presence be known.
Beauty did not impress James. It was, like all things, a tool. Particularly useful, particularly deadly. The man was beautiful, one of the more remarkable men James had seen, and he had slept with men whose beauty was lauded the world over. He knew men and women alike, more than he could count, who would kill for the dark hair and eyes, the lines of cheeks and jaws, the way those tattoos seemed natural and all the more beautiful for it.
So, no, the beauty did not impress him.
The stillness, however, intrigued him.
James detested holding still. He could do it, had done it, for hours unending and minutes that stretched on for years. He was among her Majesty's best, even if her Majesty and the estimable M loathed that fact. He could do plenty of things he did not enjoy, though holding still was particularly high on that list.
This man, however, held so still James could not be quite certain he was breathing. If not for the sharpness of those eyes, the curve of his mouth that could have meant nothing or everything, James would have taken him for a statue.
"It seems to be a habit of your people," the man suddenly said, nothing but his mouth and eyes moving, "to climb into the sky, and fall back out of it. Why you cannot keep your feet on the ground, I do not know."
James stood. "I hope I did not land on anyone or anything of importance."
"Close," the man replied. "I would say the horses will never be the same, but they are used to crazy men falling from the sky." He stood, so slowly and lightly that it drove James mad. Perversely, the man reminded him of snow, the way it appeared to drift slowly down and settle lightly. Snow never seemed to hurry, save in a blizzard, and those came so hard and fast, one was left reeling.
"I thank you for the rescue," James said. "I am happy to arrange recompense, of course, especially if your generosity would extend to seeing me to the sort of civilization to which I am accustomed."
The man nodded. "It will be done, though it will take a few days. We have other concerns at present, and those must be attended before your dilemma can be addressed."
James realized, belatedly, that the man's English was perfect. His accent moved with it, and he wondered if that was natural, or artifice. The cynical, realistic voice said it was artifice—people underestimated those who spoke a second language with a distinct accent.
But, cynicism warred with instinct, which said this man had little patience for artifice.
Much to my dismay, Bond, Mummy, etc etc do not belong to me. I think we all know what would be happening if Craig and Fehr were mine.
James woke with a start, but long years of hard-learned lessons kept him from moving.
He stared up at the ceiling, uncomprehending for a moment. Usually, he was not so slow. A moment later his mind began to work, and he realized it was not a ceiling at which he stared. Of all things, it was a tent.
He had woken in stranger places, to be sure, however, those usually came with logical explanations. At present, he could recall no good or bad reason he should be lying in a tent.
A quick, subtle examination proved his limbs to be unsecured. So, the chances he was a prisoner lessened slightly. The temperature, the very feel of the air, told him he was in a desert.
There it was, and obviously his landing had been a bit rougher than anticipated, if it had taken him so long to recall his situation. Next time, he would not be quite so decisive in choosing to shoot the pilot. He was apparently still learning the hard way that pilots always had tricks up their sleeves.
Nasty tricks that apparently landed him in the desert, somewhere.
Tired of lying still, James sat up—immediately regretting the way the tent spun around, but sitting and dizzy was better than lying down and holding still.
As quick as that, he felt eyes upon him.
Glancing up, he immediately snapped to the presence that must have been there all the while, but which he had not felt until this moment. When, he realized, his watcher had chosen to let his presence be known.
Beauty did not impress James. It was, like all things, a tool. Particularly useful, particularly deadly. The man was beautiful, one of the more remarkable men James had seen, and he had slept with men whose beauty was lauded the world over. He knew men and women alike, more than he could count, who would kill for the dark hair and eyes, the lines of cheeks and jaws, the way those tattoos seemed natural and all the more beautiful for it.
So, no, the beauty did not impress him.
The stillness, however, intrigued him.
James detested holding still. He could do it, had done it, for hours unending and minutes that stretched on for years. He was among her Majesty's best, even if her Majesty and the estimable M loathed that fact. He could do plenty of things he did not enjoy, though holding still was particularly high on that list.
This man, however, held so still James could not be quite certain he was breathing. If not for the sharpness of those eyes, the curve of his mouth that could have meant nothing or everything, James would have taken him for a statue.
"It seems to be a habit of your people," the man suddenly said, nothing but his mouth and eyes moving, "to climb into the sky, and fall back out of it. Why you cannot keep your feet on the ground, I do not know."
James stood. "I hope I did not land on anyone or anything of importance."
"Close," the man replied. "I would say the horses will never be the same, but they are used to crazy men falling from the sky." He stood, so slowly and lightly that it drove James mad. Perversely, the man reminded him of snow, the way it appeared to drift slowly down and settle lightly. Snow never seemed to hurry, save in a blizzard, and those came so hard and fast, one was left reeling.
"I thank you for the rescue," James said. "I am happy to arrange recompense, of course, especially if your generosity would extend to seeing me to the sort of civilization to which I am accustomed."
The man nodded. "It will be done, though it will take a few days. We have other concerns at present, and those must be attended before your dilemma can be addressed."
James realized, belatedly, that the man's English was perfect. His accent moved with it, and he wondered if that was natural, or artifice. The cynical, realistic voice said it was artifice—people underestimated those who spoke a second language with a distinct accent.
But, cynicism warred with instinct, which said this man had little patience for artifice.
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Date: 2008-11-06 01:47 am (UTC)FUN FACT: The Mummy Returns was on tonight.
ANOTHER FUN FACT: This crossover makes me smile like a small pink princess receiving a flying unicorn.
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Date: 2008-11-06 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 01:53 am (UTC)Heh. I'm glad the snow worked ^^; I almost took it out.
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Date: 2008-11-06 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 02:02 am (UTC)The snow metaphor made me laugh in a pervy fangirl kinda way. <3 Friggin awesome.
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Date: 2008-11-06 02:29 am (UTC)I LOVED this line: "It seems to be a habit of your people," the man suddenly said, nothing but his mouth and eyes moving, "to climb into the sky, and fall back out of it. Why you cannot keep your feet on the ground, I do not know."
So awesome. ^___^
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Date: 2008-11-06 02:53 am (UTC)Yes. That is exactly what he looks like. Now I must watch 'The Mummy' again, just so I can bask in the pretty.
I agree with your claim that this fanfic is 'doofy', and I agree with the others that more would be nice.
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Date: 2008-11-06 02:55 am (UTC)especially if it has one of my favorite actors in it (oded fehr? gorgeous!). And James Bond. Who doesn't like James Bond?
and anything James Bond, oh yes. I'm gonna like this (forgive me if i'm not coherent. my brain is swimming through verbs conjugated in Spanish and facts concerning CO2 emissions.)
and the comparison to snow in a desert? i like it! it's doing wonders for my sluggish brain.
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Date: 2008-11-06 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 11:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 12:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 01:33 pm (UTC)Sometimes I wish the dessert sun was not so hot and burning so that everyone would have to go around topless.
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Date: 2008-11-06 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-06 05:32 pm (UTC)YESYESYSESYES.
*approves compltetly*
This is my life.
I particularly like how you have sext desert man talking, I can competely see him saying all of that. XD
yay for M!
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Date: 2008-11-07 02:28 pm (UTC)I love Ardeth's stillness, and I like the comment about him being like snow and I love how Bond decides he wouldn't be much on artifice.
You totally rock. ^__________^