It had been three hours and you were approximately 2 seconds away from putting your head down on the table and taking a nap. You had accompanied Gareth Mallory to this meeting per his request, and although you had been more than willing to come along to assist him, it had only taken about an hour of boredom before you were highly regretting it.

It was Mallory's arm nudging yours which brought you from your reverie. You tried to mask your dazed expression as you looked over at him, but knew you had failed when he raised his eyebrow and gave you a knowing smirk. You mentally made a note to schedule him a few extra long days in payback for this.

After a field mission had gone awry, resulting in the death of one of MI-6's top agents, you chose to take a break from field work and were assigned to aid Mr. Mallory in his transition in becoming head of the agency.

Today's schedule focused on a hearing concerning his predecessor, and he had asked you to accompany him. You had willingly accepted, more than eager to be a part of such an important affair, one of which concerned the Prime Minister herself. And maybe, just maybe, you were keen on spending the day with the new M outside of the walls of MI-6.

It didn't take long before you understood why he had been chosen to replace the old M. A veteran himself, he understood the inner workings of an agency such as this. He knew how things had to run in order for agents to be successful and to keep them out of harm's way. He had field experience that the elder M did not, and he knew how to use the knowledge to his advantage.

And then there was you, not completely useless as a field agent turned secretary, for the time being at least. In the few months you had been assisting Mallory you had already been influential in the department, even from behind a desk.

During the car ride over, Mallory had warned that 'the PM does like to prattle on', and although you had politely chuckled at the time, you had no idea how true this statement was. Hour three and still no end in sight.

That is until the doors opened.

Policemen marched into the room, only instead of having their pistols holstered, they raised them toward the crowd. Before your mind registered the first shot you felt strong arms wrap around you and pull you roughly from your seat. You fell to the ground and grunted as a heavy body landed on top of you. You opened your eyes and found yourself inches from Mallory's face, and registered gunshots and screaming somewhere in the distance.

"Stay here," he said quickly but firmly, and before you really realized what you heard he was gone.

Your mind kicked into gear: policemen, gunshots, screams, people running, hiding, obviously not policemen.

Adrenaline flooded your body and immediately you felt your field training flow through your mind. It was a part of you, a reaction and a reflex.

You had to do something.

You listened before you acted, trying to get a bearing on who was where and doing what. You felt focused and more alert than you had since that last mission which had gone so horribly wrong. You quickly crawled toward the end of the long desk and peeked around the corner. Subconsciously you searched for Mallory first and saw him in the distance, crouched behind a wall with a gun.

Secondly you registered bodies, but not as many as there should have been. Guess that's what happens when a shootout goes down in a room full of active and retired MI-6 agents. Your eyes continued to scan the room. Whether injured or dead you didn't know, but the elder M was slouched against a desk, blood covering her lower body.

Only two uniform-clad men were still standing. One was being dealt with on the opposite side of the room by two agents, the other was stalking toward Mallory's position. Although Mallory was holding him off, he was gaining ground. Instinctively your hand moved to your hip, only to realize you did not have a gun. You glanced back and noted that if the 'policeman' got much closer Mallory would have to run, only that wasn't exactly an option with him pinned against a wall. You looked around, starting to feel the panic rise but quelling it quickly. This was no time for panic. You were trained, rusty, but trained. You searched for a weapon but came up empty.

So you took off your heels.

You grabbed the first in your hand and braced yourself, aimed, and fired. You threw it as hard as you could and with a bit of luck watched as it nailed the man in the side of the head. He stumbled for a moment, but a moment was all that was needed as Mallory raised his gun and fired once.

Suddenly all was quiet.

You stayed where you were for a few moments as adrenaline continued to pump through your veins. You eyes lingered on the man who had just fallen but it wasn't long before you felt arms wrap around your shoulders and bring you to your feet. You weren't aware of who was leading you from the room and the next few hours were a flurry of movement. You were checked over by medical staff, questioned briefly by actual police, and then sent home in a hired car. On the ride back to your flat you realized two things- you never did lay eyes on Mallory again that day, you weren't sure where he had gone or if he was even okay; and two, that you somehow still had a hold of one of your heels, the other long gone. You felt strange thinking about it on a day like today, but a shopping trip would most definitely be needed in order to replace the fallen shoe. Maybe it would even be cathartic after the day's events.

When you returned home you immediately went to take a long bath in hopes of relaxing, followed by leftover Chinese food from the night before. You felt anxious, never quite settled. You tried to talk yourself out of it- you were used to this, it was your job.

Except now your job was sitting behind a desk.

You jumped when you heard a knock on the door, hissing as you dropped lo mein onto the carpet. There was no need to be so jumpy, you were fine, you were safe. Everything was alright.

"Coming!"

You hurriedly picked the noodles off the carpet and threw them onto the plate before standing and walking to the door. You peeked through the peep hole and had to do a double take.

Somehow you were still surprised to see the head of MI-6 standing outside of your flat as you opened the door. He looked a bit haggard with his suit rumpled, his usually perfect hair out of place, and two butterfly stitches across a deep red cut on his cheek. Seeing him disheveled like this was unusual, but you didn't hate it. You had always tried to ignore the fact that you found him attractive. There was no place for that at work, he was your boss and that was it.

"You look cozy," he said as his eyes trailed down your form. You felt awkward standing before him in your long sleeved t-shirt and fluffy pajama pants. You stood silently, still surprised to see him of all people standing outside your door at 10 o'clock at night. He shifted his weight and averted his eyes momentarily, "I just wanted to stop by and make certain you were okay."

Finally finding your voice you said, "Oh, wow. Um, thanks. Yeah I'm okay…"

The two of you stood looking at one another for a few moments before you moved to the side and gestured him forward. He stepped inside and looked curiously but quickly around your flat.

You shut the door and he turned to face you, pulling something from behind his back, "I also brought you this. Thought you might want it back."

You smiled for the first time in hours as you took your missing high heel from his hand.

"I had to go back and look for it, so you should be extra appreciative," he said with a small hopeful smile.

"Well, I am beyond appreciative. I was just thinking about how I had to go buy another pair," you paused for a moment. "Thank you, by the way, for pushing me out of the way."

"You're most certainly welcome. Couldn't have my right hand woman fall to those people."

You smiled again as you studied his eyes. Light blue eyes which you had admired before, but never quite as much as in this moment in the dim light of your living room.

"Well, okay then. I just wanted to make certain you were doing well, but judging by the smell of Chinese food I see you've made out just fine."

Suddenly you felt the anxiety rush back, not even realizing it had been missing in the few short minutes he had been in your presence. You didn't want him to leave.

"Can I make you tea, sir? I mean you came all this way…" you offered, unsure of what you would say if he said no and left you alone again with your thoughts.

He nodded, "Sure, why not."

You told him to make himself at home before running off to the kitchen, when you returned you found him without his suit jacket and intensely browsing your bookshelf.

"You have very interesting reading tastes," he said teasingly and you knew he had seen the wide variety of books. Everything from Freud to romance novels littered your bookshelves.

He placed himself on the couch and took the tea from your still slightly shaking hands. You knew he had noticed when he looked up at you with concern.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked quietly.

You nodded and took a seat beside him, "Yes, I'm fine. Just… rattled, I suppose."

He settled back into the couch, "Understandable. I'd be concerned if you weren't. It's been a while since many of us have seen that kind of action. Myself included."

"Yeah, I'm just a little rusty…"

He sipped from his cup, "This is damn good tea, I insist you make this more at the office." He saw you sitting quietly, "Oh please do continue to eat, don't mind me."

"Oh no, I'm fine, I don't wish to be rude."

"Pfft. Eat, please. Food will help settle your nerves."

You being here helps settle my nerves, your mind replied and you quickly shut the thought out. You reached for the Chinese container, he was right, you were starving.

A few moments passed in silence until he said cheekily, "So, you threw a high heel at him?"

"Well, yes."

"Ah, and out of all the weapons in the world you chose a shoe because…?"

"Well I didn't exactly have all the weapons in the world at my disposal, now did I?"

"I suppose you're right. I just can't seem to believe what I saw," he said with a genuine laugh.

"It worked, didn't it? You should be grateful, sir," you replied, sounding more at ease than you felt.

"I am immensely grateful, thank you. Really," he finished seriously.

You looked back to your food, "You're welcome." After taking a bite you eyed his sutures, "What about you, are you okay? That looks like a pretty serious cut."

"Ah, that's the worst of the damage, and it's nothing that can't be healed."

"Does it hurt?"

"A little, just stings a bit," he said and gave you a smile before wincing. "Ow, although I must say smiling doesn't feel the best."

"Well I've been told my tea could cure cancer, so maybe it will help."

He took another sip, "I would fully believe it. I'm certainly in good hands it seems."

It wasn't long before he emptied his glass and you your leftover container. You knew your time together was almost through. You folded your hands into your lap and hope he didn't notice them still shaking. He was trained to see these types of things though, he was hardwired for it, but you were surprised when he took your hands gently in his.

"It's really okay. You're safe now."

And that's when it happened, you couldn't help it, but the tears began. You cursed yourself for showing weakness, especially in front of him, but before you knew it you were pulled to him and were crying against his chest.

His hands rubbed up and down your back soothingly as he held you tightly to him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you were lecturing yourself that this was highly unprofessional and would come back to bite you in the ass, but he just felt so damn warm and you were just so damn tired.

"It's okay… you're at home now… they're dead and no one can hurt you…" he whispered quietly against your hair. "I promise…"

It took a while, but eventually you pulled away from his arms. Although they had calmed, the tears had not stopped completely, and you felt embarrassed as you wiped them away with your sleeve. You hadn't even been aware that he had left until he returned and handed you a glass of golden liquid.

"Wha-?"

"Drink it. I dug around but I found your liquor stash," he placed the drink in your hand. "Drink."

You brought the glass up to your lips shakily and relished in the burning warmth as it traveled down your throat. It was oddly soothing, but not as much as his arms had been. The first glass was barely finished before he had refilled it. You weren't much for numbing your emotions with alcohol, but you couldn't deny that he was right- you felt a lot better.

You sighed deeply and leaned back into the cushions. From the corner of your eye you saw him visibly relax.

"I'm sorry," you croaked and winced at the sound.

"Don't be, I'm just glad you seem to be feeling better," he said and reached out to give your hand a gentle squeeze.

You turned to look at him and felt the room spin slightly. Oh yeah, you were feeling much better.

"I'm glad you came to check on me," you said quietly.

He looked down almost shyly, "I was worried."

"I don't know what happened," you said and blinked the haze away. "I just got overwhelmed, I guess."

He took your glass and refilled it once more. When you gave him a wary look he said, "I assure you I am not trying to get you drunk. Just trying to make it easier for you to fall asleep. I think you need it."

You thanked him and noticed for the first time a small faded scar on his top lip and wondered if the rest of his body was covered in similar marks.

The two of you sat comfortably for a few minutes until your yawn broke the silence.

"Ah, I see it's kicking in," Mallory said with a small laugh.

You chuckled, "Apparently so."

He stood and asked, "So do you want to sleep in the bed or on the couch?"

"Hmm, the couch I believe."

He then took the blanket lying across the back of the couch and handed it to you, taking the liquor glass from your hand.

"I'm going to go now, and I know you won't, but please take the next couple days off."

"I'm not going to if you aren't," you replied stubbornly and stifled another yawn.

He rolled his eyes, "I figured not. I'm serious though, I don't want to see you in the office tomorrow."

You threw the blanket over yourself and he fixed the end so that your feet were covered, "Good for you."

He was quiet for a few moments, "You're a bit cheeky when you're tipsy."

"Hmm."

You heard him pick up his suit jacket before he said, "Okay then, goodnight."

It was these words that instantly brought you from your reverie.

"Wait! Com'ere," you said and cursed yourself when it came out slurred. He watched for a moment as you sat up and waved him over.

He walked back to your end of the couch and kneeled down, his face not far from yours, "What?"

"I juss wanted to say thank you, again."

"You're very welcome," he smiled, likely amused at your current hazy state.

You couldn't help yourself when you reached forward and dragged your fingers down his red silk tie. It wasn't until after you told him you loved that tie that he began to wear it more often. You really had no idea what came over you- ok, so maybe you knew it was the alcohol- but nevertheless you eyed that tiny scar on his lip once more before slowly leaning forward and pressing your lips against his.

It was the smallest of kisses, but it ripped a wave of arousal through your body. You pressed closer and he immediately pulled himself back. His eyes were filled with surprise as his mouth hung slightly open, lips now moist and shining in the dim light.

You stared at one another for a few moments before Mallory placed his soft hand on your jaw and pulled you forward. Your lips met again and this time he didn't pull away. It was rushed and full of hot breath and you had never felt so needy in your life. His other hand reached behind you and ran up the back of your neck and tangled gently but firmly in your hair. Your own hands made their way under his suspenders and ran along his light blue shirt. You reveled in the way his chest felt under your small hands- strong, solid, and sexy as hell. Your left hand traveled up his shirt and pulled him forward by his collar before moving across his slightly unshaven neck and you couldn't help but release a short moan at the feel of the soft bristles under your fingertips. You continued your path upward toward his cheek when he winced harshly and pulled away.

"Oww…" he said and rubbed the cut gently, trying to assuage the sharp pain.

"Oh my god Mallory, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's really okay, it just… hurt a bit," he said as he looked into your eyes and gave you a small reassuring smile. He removed his hand from his cheek and averted his eyes from yours, "Okay, well, it's obvious that I need to go now."

"You don't have to go," your heart fell the tiniest bit.

"Yes," he said gently. This really didn't go as planned… as if you even had a plan.

"You can stay," you insisted quietly and ran your fingers up his loosened silk tie. You gripped it gently and pulled him forward just a bit before placing another small kiss on his lips. You felt his breath hitch from behind his open mouth when you ran your tongue along his lip.

He pulled minutely away, "No…"

"Yes," you said with a smirk and a side of alcohol-induced persistence. "I want you to."

You kissed his pink lips again, nibbling gently on his bottom lip. He took your hand in his and pulled it away from his tie, "Not when you're like this." He paused and you tried in vain to keep the disappointment from your face. "But maybe later…"