Just to let you know, the sentances or paragraphs of italics where you hear someone being referred to as Evelyn are M's thoughts. Evelyn is what she still calls herself, although the MI6 computer system just has her registered as 'M', as opposed to the name she was called when she was an agent. (I refer to M's past self as Evelyn Cameron. I just think the name suits the charcter for some reason.)

M choked on a sob that got caught in her throat as she tried to avoid crying in front of one of her agents. Eve didn't seem to notice this, so M just masked her emotions as she had been doing since she became and agent. She had been in the Secret Service for nearly half her life now. A slightly worrying thought, but M focused on her current predicament. She turned to Eve. "Alright, so maybe I was wrong. Serious situation. Incredibly so, in fact. Look, Eve, get a tannoy sent out to all the agents who've been leaked in the building and tell them to report here immediatley. Senga's in Krgystan; try and get her back to the UK as soon as possible. And find out how the hell the agents' identities have gone viral. Hack the computer that sent them if you must, just get them offline and shut down the account which sent the files onto Wikipedia. I need to get in contact with Silva."
Eve nodded, but as she turned to leave, she did a double-take and pointed to a scar about four millimeters wide and three inches long just below the short sleeve of M's blouse. "Since when was that there?"
M indignantly pulled her cardigan back over the little scar. "It was an accident in espionage training when I was thirty," M lied. "Now just get on with what you've been told to do."
Evelyn, stop being so stupid. I don't care if the whole scenario with Silva is bringing back bad memories. You need to keep it in. What if she'd seen the others? Stop being so careless!

M stood up as Eve left the room again, slamming her laptop shut and jamming her headset into her ear as she did so. The headset was set to send messages to any agent on the system when M said their name; the thing was equipped with voice recognition. She quickly barked into it; "Agent Silva? Agent Silva! This is M, do you copy?" But all she heard in response was a low drone that indicated the fact that there was no one on the other end. She waited about ten minutes. Tried again. Still no answer. She used the same process again. Same result. She decided to try it one final time. "Silva? SILVA?! Come on, pick up, man!"

But answer there came none...

Eve poked her head round the door. M pursed her lips, sighed, and said; "You've definetly done everything?" Eve nodded again. "Blimey, that was quick! Well, status report, then."
"I hacked the computer and wiped the hardrive. The articles are off, but the photos are still all over Google Images, and I can't shift them. The USB files had been dumped on Silva's laptop and the drives on the USB keys got wiped too. I got the computer's digital fingerprint, so we can trace it. I've arranged flights back for Senga and the MI6 files of the leaked agents are off our computer systems. Any luck with you?"
"None at all," M said. "I'm getting nothing from Silva, his location still hasn't changed. I'm actually starting to fear the worst-"
At that point, M heard a bleep and noticed the red light flashing on her headset, indicating that someone was trying to get ahold of her. She hastily put it back into her ear, and heard the cool, clear Spanish accent of her missing agent. That was some comfort. But Silva was breathing heavily, his voice was oddly thick and he sounded stressed and weak. "M, this is Agent Silva, do you copy?"
"I hear you loud and clear, Silva. Where the hell have you been?"
"Agent in distress, I repeat, agent in distress. I'm roughly three miles outside of Dandong, I'm trapped in a derilict farm. They found my computer and all the USBs. I'm being torture and held here against my will. If you can do anything, anything at all, please do it. Help me..."
M let a tear fall when she heard the voice of her agent. But she couldn't do anything. "Silva, I can't. They leaked six agents' files onto Wikipedia and Google Images. Y-you- you were one of them. We had to erase you from our system." M was having to force herself to speak. Her voice was barely a whisper and she was firing out her sentances like bullets, short and sharp. "If I could do anything, I swear I would. I-I'm so sorry I have to do this. But we've got to let you go. We can't help. I'm sorry. M out..."

"God, I feel terrible," M said, as she sat at her esk with Eve's hand resting on top of her own. It was late that night, and M was badly shaken about having to leave Silva to his almost certain death. "I think I know how the last M felt when I..." M's voice tailed off when she realised that she was saying something she shouldn't be.
"This is about that scar again, isn't it?" Eve said, looking at her boss. "M, I know you were lying when you said abouth the espionage accident. I'm taking a degree in psychology, I know what I'm on about."
M scowled at Eve. "What happened then is neither relevant or something that you need to know. It's classified information and well in the past. It doesn't concern you in any way shape or form. And I don't like to talk about it. You know too much already. I think you'd better go home now. Just leave me here."

Evelyn, this is getting ridicuous. DON'T KEEP TELLING HER THINGS ABOUT BACK THEN. Now you need to stop thinking about this. Or the dreams are going to start...

That night, Eve lay in bed awake, trying to work out the situation with M. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that M had once been in a similar situation to Silva. But how, Eve couldn't work out.
She knew that it was absolutley none of her buisness. But she wanted to know...

M was slumped across her desk, picking at her chipping nail polish. It was about 1 am, and despite not having slept in more than 100 hours, she was still keeping herself awake. Her hands and her entire body now were shaking badly, but she was keeping herself up in a girlish fear of her recurring nightmares. But not just any old nightmares. Everything that M dreampt had actually happened. And when she drifted off to sleep, she didn't want to relive the jolt of one of the bullets hitting her arms or legs.
Or the crunch as her leg was smashed.
Or the memory of trying to take her own life.
Or, the worst one. She didn't want to think about hearing the steady beep of the heart rate montior she was hooked up to growing slower, and slower, until it went flat.
Her chances of survival after that one mission had been only 20%. But, despite being medically dead for around fifteen seconds, M had pulled through. But she didn't want to think about it.

She didn't want to relive those three days. Not now. Not ever...