Author's note: This is set after Skyfall. Gareth Mallory is the new M and uhhh thats rly all :) oh and the Q in this story is the one from skyfall. I didn't know what one to put in the characters spot or whatev so yaa... enjoy :)

Chapter One: The Start

The cool, crisp air whistles though the barren trees. Snow gently floats to the frozen ground. The weather is nippy, miserable, and biting, but James Bond is ignoring that little detail.

James rubs his hands together, trying to keep them from freezing. After all, he can't have his hands numb to work a gun properly. And he definitely is going to need a gun. He grabs the guard that he'd knocked out a minute before. He hoists up the guard to an eye scanner and pries the man's eyelids up. The scanner beeps and James grins.

"Bingo."

The alley-way door opens with a loud swooshing sound and James is in. He pulls out his Walther PPK, cocking and loading it. James says goodbye to the cold, frigid weather that Russia boasts and says hello to the warm, inviting heat from within the top-secret building he's easily just gotten into. Well, the Grand Dalia Hotel isn't exactly top-secret, but they don't let just anybody in.

James points his gun to the ground and slinks through the hallways, his ears perked for any sounds of unsuspecting workers or evil masterminds; you know, the usual. He finally comes to the one place he's been searching for and he slips his gun into his pocket, adjusting his suit. He opens the doors and is greeted by elegance.

Prestigious men dressed in perfect suits dance with beautiful women dressed in sparkling, shimmering dresses. Couples sit in tables and chairs and sip wine, laughing at each other's alcohol-induced jokes. James descends the staircase and grabs a drink off a passing worker's tray, downing the drink in a single gulp.

James scans the room with his eyes, passing over numerous important-looking people. His bright, icicle-blue eyes finally settle upon a slightly over-weight man surrounded by three body guards sitting in a booth and beside him sits the most beautiful woman in the room: The woman has light brown hair, blue eyes, and light skin. The group look up as James approaches their table.

The bodyguards rise from the booth but James raises his hands. "I have no business with you."

The overweight man starts to rise but James shakes his head. "Not you, either."

The man frowns and awkwardly sits back down.

The beautiful woman looks up. "Me?"

"Of course. I always make a point to dance with the most beautiful woman in the place at these sort of things," James says smoothly.

The woman blushes and giggles but the man just glares at James. "Well, since the woman your referring to happens to belong to me, you will not go near her," the man says in a heavy Russian accent.

James furrows his brow at the man's words. Belong? "Can't the woman decide for herself?"

"The woman has a name!" the woman stands up abruptly. "And it is Sonia Letvia!"

"Well, Sonia Letvia," James asks, flashing the woman a dashing smile, "would you care for a dance?"

"I would!" Sonia replies, exiting the booth and grabbing James' hand. "I'd like to dance with a real man for once!"

"And what does that mean, woman?" the man yells but James and Sonia were already dancing into the middle among the other dancers.

The two dance around the elegant ballroom and James leads, as gentlemanly as he could. Sonia looks beautiful in an emerald green dress with diamonds outlining it, strappy silver heels, and a jade necklace. James looks just as good in a sleek black suit and bow tie with matching shoes.

"You truly are the most beautiful woman in this whole room," James tells Sonia.

"Why, thank-you, Mr... what is your name? I didn't catch it," Sonia asks, blushing again.

"Bond. James Bond," James says, grinning. God, he loves saying that.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" Sonia raises her eyebrows playfully.

"It usually does," James grins. "By your blushing, I can tell you aren't told you're beautiful that much, are you?"

Sonia looks down. "No. Bevlo never even tells me that I look remotely pretty."

So it is Bevlo, James thinks to himself.

The reason 007 James Bond is here is a big one. Bevlo Astafurov is a highly-skilled assassin and M had just delivered James a tip that Bevlo was planning to assassinate the prime minister of England. Bevlo didn't have any beef with the prime minister, but usually assassins didn't kill people because they themselves wanted to; they usually had an employer. It is James' job to figure out who this employer is. And Sonia is James' best bet to get information; Bevlo isn't going to talk unless James resorts to more, uh, unconstitutional methods.

"Well, he should tell you," James says, staring into Sonia's eyes. "You deserve to be told that you are the most gorgeous woman in the world. That deserves some recognition."

"James," Sonia says, looking at the floor. "I do have a boyfriend."

"You could change that," James flashes Sonia a dashing smile.

Sonia laughs. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"A little," James replies. "But that's not what I'm here for."

"Oh? What is?" Sonia asks, tilting her head in a playful way.

"I'm here to ask about Bevlo," James starts but doesn't continue as Sonia drops James' hands. "What?"

"I should've known!" Sonia yells. "All anyone ever wants from me is information about Bevlo! Bevlo! Bevlo! Bevlo! It's so maddening!"

James stays quiet. When a woman is yelling, you let her yell.

"Tons of men come to me and I think, 'Hey! Here's a nice guy who has noticed me,' but nooooo! They just want information about Bevlo!" Sonia screams.

"Look, I don't like Bevlo all that much, either. If you hate the guy, why don't you break up with him?" James asks.

"It's not that easy," Sonia gets quiet. "He knows things about me."

"Like what?"

"Bad things."

"Well, do you know if he's planning anything?"

"I don't know! He never tells me anything!" Sonia sighs, walking over, pulling out a chair, and sitting down in a huff.

James pulls out another chair and sits down beside Sonia. "Do you know if he's on a job right now?"

"I think he said something about England or something," Sonia sighs. "I know he mentioned England at least. Oh and something about the Prime Minister."

So he is on a job, James thinks.

"Do you have any other information, Sonia?" James asks, putting his hand on Sonia's knee.

"Well, I know we're leaving Russia early tomorrow," Sonia says, taking a large sip from a random glass set atop the table and makes a face. "Oh, this is terrible!"

James grabs the glass and takes a sip for himself. "That's because it was stirred."

James looks up from the table and sees Bevlo rising from the table and walking over to the table James and Sonia are sitting at.

"Time to go, Sonia," Bevlo says, grabbing Sonia's arm and yanking Sonia up from the chair.

"Ow!" Sonia yelps and James glares at Bevlo.

"Say goodbye to your new friend," Bevlo commands.

"Goodbye, James," Sonia mumbles, being hauled off by Bevlo.

"Til later, Sonia," James nods.

HE DEFINITELY IS PLANNING AN ASSASSINATION, James thinks. ONE THING IS FOR SURE; BEVLO IS NOT LEAVING RUSSIA.

James rises from the chair when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

"Yes?" he says, answering the phone.

"James!" James hears Q's out-of-breath voice on the other side of the mobile. "You have GOT to look up on YouTube 'Cat Chasing Its Tail'! It is the funniest thing ever! I almost died laughing!"

James rolls his eyes. James had grown very fond of the young, dark-haired, be-speckled quartermaster, but sometimes he could be so bothersome. After M's death, James has become really depressed. Well, everyone did, but James took hard; James had come to think of M as a mother, after he'd lost his real one.

It was as if he'd lost another mother.

One day, when James was feeling especially down, Q had come in and found James crying. Yes, JAMES BOND, had been crying. And it was all-out bawling. He didn't really know what had happened, but he couldn't hold in the tears and sadness any longer. Of course the funeral was hard, but it was the little things that made James choke up.

"Did your favorite soap opera get cancelled?"

James looked up and saw Q leaning against the door frame of the break room.

James wiped away the tears that had clustered in his crystal-blue eyes and wiped his nose on his sleeve, something he usually never did.

"How'd you guess?" James asked sarcastically.

Q sat down on the couch James was sitting on. "But seriously, what's wrong?"

"I know it's been a while since M died, but I can't help the feeling I want to cry whenever I see a bulldog because of her horrid little ceramic one, and just little things like that," James said in one long breath.

Q nodded. "I know. It's really hard. Especially for you. I could tell you and M had a special relationship. But do you want to know what I think?"

"Enlighten me."

"This might sound cheesy or whatever, but I think M is looking down from Heaven and looking after you as she did in life. Guiding you along or something."

James looked up into the warm hazel eyes of the young quartermaster. "That's not cheesy at all. That was beautiful."

Q grinned. "Well, that's what I was aiming for."

James chuckled. "Then, you were right on."

"Feel better, 007," Q said, rising from the couch. "And if you ever need any more 'beautiful'," Q does air quotations here, "quotes, you know where to find me."

"Will do," James laughs. After crying so much, it feels good to laugh.

Q is a good kid, but right he doesn't have time for YouTube videos.

"Q," James says haughtily, "I don't have time for cat videos! I'm working!"

"Oh, really?" Q asks questioningly. "What were you doing before I called? Not flirting with girls, were you?"

James grins. "Perish the thought."

Q laughs and replies, "Oh, how I think that? It's not as if that happens every day or anything."

James himself cracks a smile. "I'd never do that, Q."

"Whatever," Q says. "Just look it up later."

"Sure, Q," James says, ending the call.

Now, on to more pressing matters: stopping Bevlo from leaving Russia.