"You know you aren't supposed to be here," she shut the door behind her and set her keys on the hall tree just to the side of the door. She could smell the faint, lingering scent of his cologne the moment she walked in.

He had been sitting there long enough that his eyes had adjusted to the dark. The faint moonlight from the window was enough for him. He doubted she could see anything at all from where she was standing, but somehow, her eyes locked onto him from across the room.

He shifted in the seat just slightly, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward onto his knees.

"Technically, you aren't supposed to be here either."

The corner of her lips turned up into that sexy smirk that drove him absolutely mad.

"Touché."

She flicked on the light without warning and he immediately turned his eyes downward, slowly lifting his gaze until the light no longer agitated him. For a few seconds, he just stared at her. He liked her choice of clothing, pale blue shirt with jeans… sensible shoes, as always, and a scarf draped over one shoulder. And although her outfit was certainly very flattering, he couldn't get over her face. He didn't realize just how much he'd missed seeing her. Every line, every twitch of her mouth… how she'd bite her lip and her long eyelashes would fall against her cheek when she'd lost her train of thought and was trying to remember what she'd forgotten. How she could never keep her hands still if she was nervous. Mallory moved his feet a lot when he was annoyed, but, needless to say, it had no effect on James. Not like M… his M.

Olivia didn't say another word. She simply unpacked her shopping and put it all away as if she hadn't even noticed he was there. He watched with silent fascination as she unpacked the shopping, putting everything in its proper place before making a start on her dinner for the evening. From what he could see, it looked rather good, and she certainly seemed to know her way around a kitchen. He began to daydream about them cooking a meal together one day. He could make a lovely dinner for the two of them… or perhaps breakfast in bed. He smiled, deciding he liked the second option much better.

She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes, wondering what on earth he was thinking about that was making him grin like an idiot.

He noticed she only put one serving of salmon in the oven. "Don't I get any?"

She shrugged. "Had I known you were coming, I might have been better prepared." She briefly glanced over her shoulder before turning her attention back to the pot of vegetables in front of her. "You should have called."

He chuckled silently. "Lucky for you, I've already had dinner."

"How did you find me anyway? Did Mallory tell you, or have you been taking liberties with company resources again, hmm?"

He shrugged. "Bit of both. Mallory unknowingly left me a clue and I ran with it."

She grabbed the tea towel from the table and wiped her hands. He watched her stand on her toes to take two tumblers from the cabinet and fought the urge to smile at how cute she was.

He quickly got a handle on his facial expression when she turned to look at him.

"Eyes closed, 007."

There was a note of command in her voice that sent a jolt of desire straight to his groin. He bit back the 'yes, ma'am' that was just on the tip of his tongue and nodded just once, closing his eyes without hesitation.

A few moments later, he felt the couch dip as she sat down beside him. He took the dull sound of the glass bottle on the coffee table as his cue to open his eyes again.

He arched an eyebrow, giving the bottle a pointed look.

"It's bad enough that you know where I live. I don't need you breaking in here and helping yourself to my scotch as well."

"Who says I don't already know where you hide it?" he smirked.

She rolled her eyes and effortlessly opened the bottle. His eyes never left her hands while she poured a glass for herself. She then set it back on the table, picking up her glass.

She sat back on the sofa and crossed her legs. "You can pour it yourself."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded.

"You don't have to call me that anymore, James. I'm not-"

"Yes, you are." He cut her off sharply, pouring himself a very large drink before downing half of it in one go.

Her face fell.

She always knew he had a soft spot for her, despite her being a 'bitch'. But she never thought he would become so attached that it interfered with his work.

This wasn't good.

"You need to let go, Bond."

"You think it's that easy? You think I'd be here if-" he stopped. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be going.

"You shouldn't be here," she echoed her earlier words. "You should be in the field. You should be focused."

"Yes, I should be. I should be in the field with a gun in my hand. And you should be in a box in the ground."

She noticed he'd curled his fists in his lap, what he always did when he was trying to keep his anger in check. Though, she couldn't figure out if he was upset that she wasn't dead, or if it was that she'd lied to him.

"I'm well aware of what should be happening, but as you can see, that's not what's going on, is it?"

He closed his eyes and sighed taking a few seconds of deep breathing to steady himself. He didn't mean to snap at her and goodness knows he didn't wish her dead.

"I'm sorry."

She nodded, taking the opportunity to study his face while his eyes were closed. "We'll have something to eat… take some time… and afterward, you can tell me why you're here."

He nodded once, opening his eyes and taking another sip of his drink.

She got up to go check on the meal and left James on the couch by himself, swirling the scotch in his glass. He was fighting every impulse to turn the bottle upside down and chug the whole thing, but he didn't want to be under the influence when he told her what he'd come to say.

The only sounds to be heard were her fluttering about the kitchen and the steady drumming of his own heart pounding away in his ears. He'd been hoping to just say it and get it over with before he lost the nerve. Though, perhaps it was better this way. Building up to it instead of just blurting it out. Might give him a chance to think of something more eloquent than 'I miss you'. Besides, he had a few questions of his own, the first being how the hell she managed to pull it off.

He sighed. She'd probably throw him out. She'd probably make some excuse about it being unprofessional. He'd never been one to believe in miracles or fate or any of that nonsense. But god or no, he'd been granted a second chance, and if this truly was going to be his last bit of time with her, he needed to tell her.

He heard a delicate 'clink' on the table in front of him and looked up to see a small plate with a bit of salmon, a few vegetables, and a bit of bread.

"Eat."

"But I-"

"Yes, I know what you told me, and I know what your idea of dinner consists of. If it comes in a bottle, it doesn't count. Top shelf or not." She pushed the platter a little closer to him. "Eat. Then we'll talk."

She decided to let slide his instinctively muttered 'yes, ma'am' and simply let him eat his dinner in peace. Maybe by then he'd calm down enough to tell her exactly what was going on.