Word Count: 2,217
Rating: T
AN: This started with a post I did on tumblr for having a Bond!Bellarke AU idea and this anon gave me this additional idea as Clarke being 007, and not Bellamy. (For those of you wondering, my original Bond!AU will probably end up multi-chapter if I decide to write it, but it depends on the response it gets), and well this is the drabble that was born of brain-storming that. Enjoy. Beta'ed by Ro.
Of gun powder and silk
One-shot
"007, you have a new assignment." The words didn't make her even twitch; Clarke was always aware of her surroundings and had heard the footsteps and the breathing long before she had been approached.
Clarke rolled her shoulders and put the gun - her own Walther P99 - down, next to the tool kit that she had been using to clean said weapon. Looking up, she saw R, the recently appointed Quartermaster, who was busy tinkering something on her tablet and holding out impatiently a file case.
Clarke rose fluidly on her feet and accepted the file, a surge of adrenaline and a rush of danger singing through her blood; paper files were rarely used anymore and only when the information inside proved to be too sensitive for MI6 to risk and have it on a server where it can be hacked.
And that for the 00-agent was something close to heaven - it meant possibly months of field work, away from the stifling restless breaks Medical was trying to impose on all field agents, away from M's gaze, with whom Clarke had a complicated relationship, and the freedom to do what she was best at - serve the Queen by getting rid off of all her enemies around the world.
A quick look over the file and Clarke had to use her training and hide her initial reaction of giddiness and gleeful smile.
Diana Sydney read on top in bold black letters, a name MI6 had recently connected with a conflict in the Middle East that had unfortunately put a stop on Britain's advancement on peace negotiations with Pakistan.
Clarke remembered that mission vividly; it wasn't hers, but 006's and her fellow agent had barely gotten out alive with the Minister of Defence, losing four other diplomats in the slaughterhouse.
Anya had been so bad after the mission that Clarke had seen no other option to quell her rage but to request of M 006 to be sent on a mission with her in Singapore so that they could take down a weapon trafficker. Needless to say M had been more than grateful that Anya wasn't going to blow something up in their country and readily authorised her as the second 00-agent for the assignment.
The job had been dirty, bloody and exactly what Anya had needed to pull back more tightly her bloodlust.
R and the other tech-savvy people of the Q-branch had managed to find even more traces of Sydney's influence in various conflicts over the years, but until now they didn't have solid proof to issue a kill command.
"A solo job."
R finally looked at her and distractedly pushed her brown hair back.
"Yes, the intel should be enough and you'll have daily briefings with M and I to tail your progress. 002 and 009 are respectively in Canada and Alaska, and will be on stand-by in case you require their help."
Clarke's eyes subtly narrowed and she wanted to bristle at the assumption that she wouldn't be capable of finishing the job alone. Instead of saying anything, she smiled and showed a bit of teeth.
"Of course, tell them not to wait. When am I to leave?"
"Your flight is in 5 hours."
Clarke opened the file once again - Virginia, USA, here she comes.
"Again." Diana's voice grated on his nerves and Bellamy clenched the belt in his hand tighter.
He pulled his arm back and swung forwards, the belt swishing in the air and landing with a sickening sound against the skin of their prisoner.
The guy screamed when the welt split open his yet again and more blood painted his back red.
Diana just smiled at the sound, taking pleasure from the pain she was causing, and stepped forward to pull at her prisoner's hair, hard enough to illicit another sob.
"Please, I didn't know."
She tusked and liked her lips, like a predator zeroing on her prey.
"I pay you for one thing only - to make me invisible. And you didn't do your job. Do you know what you've cost me? How much work I have to do now? No, Mister Smith, I'm sorry for not taking your head sooner." She let the head drop dejectedly from her hand and pulled out a handkerchief to clean away the sweat and dirt from her fingers.
"You," she pointed to the fourth person in the room and the guy stepped forward. "Take our prisoner to the cell, I'll deal with him later. Blake, go fetch my son, will you?"
Bellamy pulled his feelings behind a mask and put back on his belt, his hands steady and hiding his loathing.
Remember, you're doing it for her, he chanted in his head, for her.
Bellamy met her for the first time when he was out buying flowers for his sister. The woman was a pretty little thing - long legs, beautiful body, shiny hair, gorgeous mouth, sparkling blue eyes and a wit to match it all.
Elizabeth - call me Eliza - Taylor had magnetism to her that not even Murphy's famed conquests ever came close to possessing. Yet, there was something about her that made Bellamy think twice.
The background check he was "politely" requested to do when she turned out to be Sydney's new attorney came back clean and there was nothing suspicious about her and somehow that put him even more on edge.
Bellamy couldn't explain it, but he knew, he knew she was something more than she appeared to be.
And he hated her for being an unknown.
"I've seen you looking at me."
He lifted his head and looked straight into her eyes, gaze not for once wavering and wandering over her semi-naked form.
Clarke smirked behind her cup of coffee and did so that the bathrobe she was wearing slipped off her left shoulder showing even more skin; she saw the muscle in his jaw jump and counted it a victory.
"No, ma'am." His words were brisk and firm and edging on dismissive.
Bellamy Blake.
He was assigned to be her watch dog the moment she came close to John Murphy, Diana Sydney's son and potential heir to the crime throne she was slowly building for herself.
It wouldn't be a first time when a guard's eyes would roam her body when her target was away, both with suspicion and lust, but it was the first time she was looked at so clinically, as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle and she didn't seem to fit in anywhere.
Clarke hummed and turned back to enjoy the sunset.
R had given her enough information and Clarke did some snooping as well, and she was pretty sure that Blake was the person she would need to get to the bottom of the organisation.
He was a sharp individual with a very good judgement and skills to back it up and he would make a good asset to have and Clarke had briefly contemplated the idea of seducing him into her bed and out of their sphere of influence, but that brought a problem with itself.
Clarke had observed him enough to know that he hated what he did, so the question was - why was he choosing to stay?
"Why am I even assigned to you?"
Clarke concluded that she wasn't supposed to hear the pained sigh but she answered nonetheless.
"Are your feet hurting you, sweetheart?"
She could feel his eyes at the back of her head and turned around to look at him - he was indeed glaring at her.
"Well, maybe," he snapped back, "seeing as you didn't see fit to let me know that after you're done in the bank, you'll be doing some shopping, princess."
Some was mildly put.
Clarke was throwing left and right Sydney's money and buying things she was fully aware she was never going to take back with her to Britain.
But she needed to stick close to her cover. Plus, annoying her grumpy guard had quickly become one of her favourite things to do when bored; and his bark was worse than his bite.
As a punishment, she dragged him to another high-class store.
Maybe she enjoyed their verbal sparring a little bit too much.
Bellamy woke up with a groan, his head was pulsing with pain and his shoulders and back ached from the uncomfortable sensation and position of having his hands tied back behind a chair.
The clicking of heels had him raising his head and he had to blink at the sudden flood of light when a flashlight was turned on.
"I didn't plan on doing it this way."
Bellamy froze - he knew that voice.
"But your employer refuses to show herself in front of me and, unfortunately, I have no luck locating her secret hideout. So now," another chair was dragged in front of him and he winced at the loud screeching. "You and I are going to have a little talk and fix that."
The person sat in the chair and leaned forward until Bellamy could see clearly - Elizabeth.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, M, the information is reliable."
"I'll need some time to check the location and send you the blueprints." That was R and Clarke ended the call.
Now, Clarke had a dilemma on her hands - get rid of Bellamy or believe him about his sister and help him get her out.
Killing Sydney was her first priority.
Anything else was second.
As ever, nothing on her mission could go right, ever.
The alarm had sounded off no less than 10 minutes after Clarke had entered the building and seeing as she hadn't killed or seen anyone, including not being detected by their cameras courtesy of R, the 00-agent suspected a mole somewhere in MI6.
"R, find me another route to her!"
"After 200 meters take the left; there should be a door." R's steady voice sounded in 007's earpiece.
Clarke did and the door unlocked the moment she laid her hand on the handle. Bless R and her mad hacking skills.
She continued forward, one gun tucked in the back of her pants and the other in her hand. Clarke did a quick count and groaned at the number - she had twenty bullets in total.
She loved a good challenge.
"Get in the car!"
Clarke used her gun to break the jaw of an incoming attacker and didn't waste any more time to jump into the open car, door slamming behind her as Bellamy hit the gas.
The static screaming in her ear eased off as the car drove away from the signal jammer and M's voice announced that the connection was back on.
"007, report your situation."
"Thread neutralised; leaving location."
"Good, I expect your report on my desk first thing in the morning."
"Yes, M."
Clarke felt Bellamy's eyes on her and turned to smile in hopes of reassuring him; she was a right mess no doubt.
Checking the magazine of her gun - empty - she tucked it in her shoulder holster.
"Hey, R?"
"Yes agent?"
"I'll need two more tickets." Clarke looked in the rear view mirror and immediately noticed the similarities between the girl occupying the back seat and Bellamy; his sister no doubt. "And passports, make them siblings."
There was a minute of silence but she waited.
"Blake?"
Clarke's grin was positively feral, M was going to hate that.
"Yes."
"Do I want to know?"
"Do you?" She stood perfectly still but Bellamy didn't let that fool him, not after having seen her in action and experiencing first-hand of what she was capable of.
He let the question bounce in his head but really, his answer had been perfectly clear from the beginning.
"You know," he sounded mischievous and sly and he caught the flicker of amusement mashed with battle-readiness in her in the slight straightening of her back. "you never did say thank you."
One of her perfectly groomed eyebrows went up. "For what?"
"Saving your ass of course."
Bellamy took a step forward and when she didn't tense or step back, he took another.
She hummed and he slowly put his hands on her waist.
"I do seem to recall you spending a lot of time staring at my ass." He laughed and leaned his forehead against hers.
Blue eyes bore into his and Bellamy felt goose bumps rise at the careful scrutiny.
"I'm not quitting."
MI6, being a 00-agent, going on missions, risking her life, being loyal to the Queen; any of that.
"I don't expect you to as long as you come back to me."
"Bellamy?" Her lips brushed his. "Shut up and kiss me."
He never felt happier to carry out an order.
His fingers traced her spine and she snuggled closer to his naked body.
"I have a question."
"Shoot." Bellamy rolled his eyes when he felt her smile against his neck.
"You got any real name, princess?"
Her whole body shook with laughter until tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes. When she got it under control, she wiped them away and rested her chin on his chest.
"Griffin, Clarke Griffin."
So, so, so?
How was it?
P.S. for those of you waiting for Whiteness - my laptop broke down and I lost ch. 12 (all of it) and I'm now in the process of re-writing/typing that but it's a tedious work because I already loved the chapter I had written and writing it again is not the same and it feels fucking wrong and I'm just frustrated with the whole thing. Please, be patient with me, I'll get it done soon.
- M.