A/N: This chapter isn't super exciting.

Disclaimer: I don't own James Bond, blah blah blah.


"Alright Bond, your GPS will now track that car."

"Good, because Quake's in it, along with a man that he abducted a few minutes ago."

M was silent for a few seconds. James could feel the woman staring at him. "His name is Eric Peterson. He is a computer software engineer," she whispered.

"His name is Eric Peterson, and he is a computer software engineer," James echoed. He could hear M order Tanner to look up the man. "I have his..." He glanced at her. "friend with me."

"Lillian Reynolds," she whispered.

"Lillian Reynolds," he echoed again. M said nothing. "You should look her up too." He could feel Lillian glare at him.

"Bond, watch yourself," M replied. James smiled and said nothing, letting her know that he understood. "Anyway, that car is headed to the airport, and your Peterson looks clean, as well as Reynolds. I suggest you drop her off before you reach them."

"No," Lillian snapped, sitting up.

"I agree, we don't have time. Quake's men could target her," James added. She sat back in her chair, watching the road fly out from under the car as they drove recklessly through the city.

"Well then, you know what to do when you arrive."

"Connection terminated," the car informed them. James focused on driving. He swerved often to avoid cars that were too slow. The speedometer was registering around 100 kilometers per hour.

"Thank you," Lillian murmured. James stared straight ahead.

"You proved yourself when you bested Quake's partner," he replied. She shifted in her seat.

"Who is Quake? Who is M? What are we doing?" she asked, voice becoming despaired.

"Quake is an international terrorist. Why he decided to grab your friend, I don't know. It was probably something to do with his software engineering abilities. M is my boss. I am a member of MI6, number 007. And we are currently speeding through London after your friend."

"He's my boyfriend really," she grumbled. "And why should I trust you? Why did you drag me along? Why are you even bothering to answer my questions?"

"Do you really have any options as to whether to trust me or not? M already told us both that you are clean. And I dragged you along so that they wouldn't send more men after you. I'm sure they have everyone Eric is associated with flagged. And your questions need to be answered. You need to know, whether M thinks so or not."

"She's your boss."

"She knows me."

"Oh? And what is there to know?"

James smirked. "I'm not going to tell you. That you can find out on your own. And what is there to know about you?"

Lillian said nothing. He cleared his throat. "Search Lillian Reynolds."

"Searching," replied the car. Lillian's mouth dropped.

"What are you doing?!" she yelled.

"I need to know. It's my job," he said simply. He was smirking.

"Lillian Reynolds. 26 years old. Accountant for Averson Incorporated. Black belt in karate. Two siblings, Alexander and Jennifer. Middle child. Parents are Jacob and Arlene. In a relationship with Eric Peterson. Dating for one year. Likes it when he calls her 'Lil' or 'Lils,' but hates it when others call her by those names. Devout churchgoer. Enjoys water skiing, broomball, an occasional jog, and reading. Attended-"

"Please stop," he demanded. The car went silent. "Activate GPS," he said after two minutes had passed. The GPS blinked to life. "Track the car," he told it. A red dot appeared, and James focused on its location. They were gaining rapidly on the car. Lillian stared at the screen. "This might get ugly," he informed her. She glared at him. He jerked the wheel the left, narrowly avoiding being hit by oncoming traffic. Lillian slammed into the door. The street they were traveling down now was less busy.

James eyed the GPS. They were closer to the car. He pressed the gas pedal down as far as it would go. "There!" Lillian shouted, and pointed through the windshield. The car was now in sight. "Do you do this a lot?" she asked him.

"All the time." She rubbed her face with her hands. Their car gained on Quake's quickly, and James steered into the other lane to pull up next to the enemy. "If I were you, I would lean my chair back as far as it will go," he ordered. Lillian stared at him, and then did as he said. She was almost laying down. James rolled down both front-seat windows, letting wind rip through the car. A bullet whistled through Lillian's window seconds later. James leaned forward and let it exit through his window. He flicked a button, and both windows closed. He jerked the wheel to the right and smashed into the other car. Lillian was frozen, looking horrified.

James kept twisting the wheel, trying to shove the terrorists off the road. The other car began to accelerate and pulled free. James swore silently and pushed his car faster. He glanced at Lillian. "Sit up now." She did. "Roll down you window. Then I need you to open the glove box," he directed. The terrorists suddenly veered to the right, taking a strange side road. James gritted his teeth, and yanked his car to follow. Lillian shrieked as the car slid sideways down the street, the snow coating the road slick. James angrily pressed the gas pedal, and the car recovered, shooting down the side street.

With shaking hands, Lillian managed to open the glove box. She did not like what she saw.

"Take out the gun," James snapped. She stared at him.

"No!"

"Take it out!"

"I'm not shooting anyone!" she yelled.

"Shoot at a tire!" He shouted back. He could see her boil over with anger, but she snatched the gun up anyway. Leaning out of the window, she carefully aimed, and pulled the trigger.

Quake's car spun out of control as the tire blew open. James slammed on the brakes as the other car did several donuts. He was about to switch gears to park when the terrorists' car stopped sliding and drove off again. James punched on the gas, and began to recklessly drive after Quake. Lillian rolled up her window and dropped the gun in glove box before moaning and plopping her head in her hands.

James sighed and turned on to a main road. He cut off several cars and blew threw seven stoplights. He made a sharp left turn, and nearly collided with an enormous SUV. Lillian looked sick.

"You are a horrible driver," she informed him icily as they pulled into the airport parking lot at 170 kilometers per hour. He said nothing, but slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding into a parking space.

"We need to figure out where they're headed before they reach their plane. And... can you disguise yourself at all?"

Lillian opened her purse. James was surprised; he hadn't seen her bring it along. She pulled out a tube of lipstick and a hand mirror. She carefully applied it, her lips bright red when she finished. She dropped that back in her purse and pulled out an assortment of eyeshadow. She rubbed her brush through a bright green shade, and smudged it onto her eyelids.

"Better?"

"Perfect. Let's go."

They exited the car in unison, and James took her arm in his and led her through the parking lot.