~Short Fuse~
M looked up sharply from his desktop as he heard the door click.
"Ah, 007; I was wondering when you'd get here, I've got those final details you were promised." He withdrew a file from his drawer and slid it across to Bond's side of the desk, "I expect that Twenty-Two briefed you on most of the case already."
"Sir," Bond affirmed, "…But I was wondering, why Twenty-Two?"
M looked at him bemusedly.
"You don't find her to be a capable agent?" (They both knew what capable meant in regards to Bond and they also knew that Twenty-Two was very beautiful and extremely "capable". Under other circumstances, Bond would have accepted her as a partner any day.)
"Quite capable, sir," Bond replied, "But I thought that Montague and I were…" he stopped when he saw the change in M's facial expression.
"Is she alright?" he asked, already knowing she wouldn't be. M only sighed and said simply,
"No."
Bond raised an eyebrow. Again, M sighed and lowered himself slowly into his chair.
"She's dead," he said quietly after a moment.
Bond blinked once.
"Dead, sir?" he asked stiffly.
"Yes," M replied, shuffling through some of his papers, "…I believe it was a suicide bomber." He scrutinized Bond for another half-second before seeming to decide the younger agent deserved the rest of the story.
"She was in Mombassa dealing with a hit man targeting our people. Her cover was compromised by one of her fellow agents, she could not escape the building in time, and within ten minutes the whole structure was blown to pieces." M noticed the way that Bond's fingers had gripped the corner of the desk and quickly added,
"Before you start getting any ideas of vengeance, we took care of the one who sold her out. All the loose ends are tied up." He regarded 007 carefully as if wondering how far he could probe.
"She said no to you, didn't she?" he asked with a small smile. Bond pursed his lips in affirmation.
"Had her own set of rules then."
"Yes sir," Bond replied in the same stiff voice, "She didn't take shit from anyone." He tipped his head. "…I'll see you tomorrow, sir."
"Yes…" M replied distractedly, already rummaging through another drawer.
Bond took his file off M's desk, carried himself out the door, and gave a slight nod to Moneypenny. In fact, he managed to get all the way to his car before letting himself process it.
Elizabeth. Montague, Elizabeth. Beautiful, stubborn, resourceful Elizabeth, who had an answer for everything, didn't give a damn how her hair looked when she went out, was contentedly married to her job, could find that special brand of dark humor in every situation, had saved his life four times that he knew of, refused to tell him about the others, and wouldn't give him the time of day. Dead? Surely not.
This was part of something larger I had outlined but never got around to. Figured I might as well post this much.