This isn't really anything special, but I just watched the newest Mission Impossible movie and I was in the mood for spies and all that jazz. For those of you who have seen the film you'll probably recognize the beginning of this scene to be quite like one of the ones in the film itself (Kinda. It's not the same in the slightest...) I might write something else with spies. But probably with them both being Fems, dueling lesbian fem fatales might just be the thing which finishes me off...

Enjoy! ;)

Well shit. That hurts.

Alistair blearily looked up and past the haze of blunt-force trauma to gauge his surroundings. A large room. Okay good start. But details, Alistair, details.

Okay, the room was concrete. There were tables, there were things on the tables, boxes, or... briefcases? The door was to his left... no that wasn't a door, it was a cupboard, which means the door is behind you. He tried to turn but- Hands... His hands were bound above his head, held fast by what felt like leather handcuffs. At least they have the decency to not use metal ones.

Ow, fuck, his head.

Behind him came a chuckle, "You look like a monkey when you've just woken up."

Alistair went stiff, he'd recognize that voice anywhere. Instantly, the pain in his head became a distant and unimportant memory, no time for that now, not when she was there.

He grunted, "The head-trauma isn't helping. You'd know, wouldn't you Rose?"

The source of the chuckle, Rose, sighed heavily, wandering lazily over to stand in front of him. She raised a thick eyebrow at him, and he felt his head swim again. Rose is here, but why the fuck is Rose here?

"Sorry about that, pet, but the oafs said you just would not go down any other way."

He spent a moment looking at her. She hadn't changed all that much since they'd last met. She was still hard, cold, her face betraying absolutely nothing of her intent or her motive. He shared a silent laugh with himself as he remembered the other agents refer to her as The Ice Queen, also remembering her almost stabbing one of the agents over it. She wasn't wearing a wig this time, so her hair was short and severe, but he liked it, it matched her personality better than any of those styled wigs ever could.

Alistair forced a debonair smile, "Ah, but you go down all too easy, don't you?"

Her head snapped up at him, a cruel fire in her eyes.

That was what made Rose beautiful, in Alistair's humble opinion. She wasn't conventionally attractive, Rose. She didn't have a small nose, or full lips, or elegant eyebrows. She had a petite frame, small breasts and small hips, coated with a fine layer of muscle, which to some people would have made her misshapen. But she had wit, and fire, and absolute confidence in herself and her abilities. She was the best. The best Agent, the best assassin, the best traitor.

"Now is not time for innuendo, Alistair."

Alistair shrugged against his bonds, "You make it too easy."

She walked closer to him confidently, as if she were certain that Alistair couldn't break the bonds he were in at any moment, even though she knew full-well that he could. She ran a hand over his bare chest (Why am I shirtless?) her lips curling up cruelly, "And so do you," she said, before leaning up to smack a kiss against his jaw, "I know you could get out if you wanted... So why are you still here?"

Okay, so maybe he was wrong earlier, she hadn't walked confidently despite the fact that she knew he could free himself, she walked confidently because she knew he wouldn't. Smug bitch.

She leaned back, "Or have you missed me that much."

"It doesn't matter if I've missed you. You're a traitor."

She rolled her eyes, rubbing over the spot where she'd kissed him, "You look good in red, Alistair."

Alistair found himself swallowing. He had thought the next time they met it would be easier to see her as nothing but a traitor. Scum. Because that's exactly what she was. But with every gentle brush of her fingertips he felt the contempt inch away, and it was harder to remain indifferent.

She leaned up again, this time pressing her lips against his. The kiss was hard, lasting only a few seconds, but seeming an eternity because Alistair had to resist the urge to kiss her back. How long had it been now? Five years? More?

She leaned back, raising that eyebrow again, "You know, this would be a lot more entertaining for the both of us if you'd just play along."

"Maybe you'd be more appealing to me if you weren't a traitorous bitch," he grit out in reply.

Her eyes turned a little soft at that and she cupped his face gently, "Oh Alistair," she sighed, running her fingers over the line of his jaw, "You really can't see, can you?"

Alistair kept his face neutral, never removing his eyes from hers, not replying in the hopes that she'd elaborate.

She pressed their lips together again, more gentle this time, "I never did any of this to hurt you, I did everything I have to keep you safe."

"What're you-"

"How do you think you're alive now? In Beijing? Monte Carlo? I've been protecting you, Alistair. You're too good an agent to be wasted in places like this."

Alistair's eyes narrowed, his mind racing in a million different incoherent directions as he tried to figure out if she was bluffing or not. She was a good lier, but Alistair knew her tells, and he couldn't see any of them now.

She ran her thumbs up his cheekbones, "I don't expect you to believe me. You're a good agent Alistair, to believe me would make you a fool. I-"

"Alice!"

Alistair stiffened, and Rose peered around him her face returning to something impassive, "Yes, sir?"

"I do ever so hope you're doing your job."

Her face turned hard, "I will do my job in due course, right at this moment I am taking advantage of the situation."

"Will I be regretting my decision to allow you to question him? I trust that your history isn't going to affect results."

"I promise you, sir, that any involvement we've previously had is more than likely nullified by my actions over the last few years."

"Just because-"

"Sir! How do you expect me to do anything to him, questioning or otherwise, while you are still within this room?"

"Watch your tone."

Rose turned back to Alistair, and there was the sound of a door closing behind him. She ran her hands up his chest again, pausing to trace his collarbone, "That man is human scum," she said plainly, and Alistair felt the urge to laugh at her familiar bluntness, "If I had any say in the matter I'd have shoved a knife through his neck years ago."

"Then why don't you?"

She looked up at him in surprise, and in truth Alistair was just as surprised by his own question as she was. She narrowed her eyes at him, "I can't because some other, equally twisted fucker would take his place, and then I would be the one with a knife through their neck. Who is supposed to protect you when that happens?"

Alistair rolled his eyes, "I'm not-"

Rose pressed their lips together to quiet his protests, "Darling, you're a brilliant man, and I loved you once, but you're a reckless fuckhead when push comes to shove."

Alistair sighed, "Did you never consider that there were other ways to do it?"

He wasn't sure exactly when he started believing her, god knows it was easier thinking she was a piece of human trash, but there was something so sincere about her actions that he couldn't help but believe it.

She smiled, sighing, "Of course, but none as purely effective as this. Now will you humour my requests and kiss me?"

Alistair leant his head down as far as his bonds allowed, pressing their lips back together as hard as he dared. Rose sighed, gripping the back of his neck and digging her nails into his skin. But it didn't matter, not that pain, or the pain in his shoulders from the restraints, or the pain in his head from the blow. She was kissing him, her body pressed against his, her lips against his own, their tongues sliding together, her hands sliding over his skin, and the only thing he wanted right then was to be out of his bonds so he could touch her too.

When they parted, she touched his face tenderly one more time, "I'm going to tell them some false information, when I give you the signal, you are to make your escape, I will assist you in any way I can."

Alistair shook his head, "You didn't have to do all this. You could have protected me and yourself."

She smiled sadly, "Ah, this was easier when you didn't know the truth, but it was eating at me Alistair, and when I saw you I couldn't keep you in the dark any longer. You still don't know everything, but I hope you now know that everything I've done has been for a reason." She sighed, "I've already sold my soul to Satan, you still have a chance."

Alistair smiled a little, breathing out a laugh, "Ah, but Rose, I'm ginger, we don't have souls to begin with."

Rose stared at him for a moment before barking out a laugh, "You ridiculous man. How have you managed to stay the man I loved after all these years?"

Alistair closed his eyes as she ran a hand through his hair, "I'm not, you just always brought out the best in me."

She shook her head, "That's not true, I've seen you, you're... sadder, but the same."

"And whose fault do you think that is?" Alistair asked, and Rose looked away with a heavy breath through her nose.

She leant up to kiss him again, "Avoid the eastern hangar, it's more heavily guarded."

And then she was gone before Alistair could get more than a syllable out.

Half an hour later, the lights in his cell cut out.

Half an hour after that he was on a motor bike, twenty minutes away from his cell and Rose. And part of him wished he'd stopped and stolen her as well as that jacket on the way out.

For someone who H/C's Scotty as gay, I sure write him with Fem!England a lot...