A/N: Alright guys. Let me start by saying I am sorry. I am buried up to my ears in college crap and urgh...I wanted to update these faster. Mountaintops was updated first because the next part of Stand and Deliver still needs a lot of work for those of you who read both. Thanks for the support. Not gonna lie, this chapter is kinda filler but they make for good build up! Review if you wish! (I do not own OUAT or James Bond)

Chapter 4:

With a groan, Q turned his main desk right side up and set the very expensive and now very broken computer monitor upright as well. He ran his hand along the cracked screen like it was a fallen comrade and sighed heavily. Everyone in the room turned collectively as M entered the ground zero that was the tech room. Bond held out his hand to help her step through the door frame and over the piles of broken glass that littered the tile. Everyone had gone about their duties, taping off dangerous passageways, calling the cleanup crews and helping those injured find medical attention.

"How the hell did this happen?" she addressed the room and held her hands up in question.

Q leaned his hands on the desk and spoke to the table top, not caring as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. "The bloody construction. Did everyone not see what they were wearing?"

"They've been here for weeks repairing the fire damage to the south end. While working, they scoped out MI6, watched us use the right doors and in the end they walked right in the damn door without a hitch." Bond crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall as he explained what he had gathered in his moments of silence.

"Why did they take agent French?" M shoved a few pieces of glass away with her lavender colored pump so she could stand on solid ground and look at the two men.

"They wanted me." Q said quietly, still looking down. "A-agent French told them she was the quartermaster. She lied. Lied to save me." He gritted his teeth and shoved the broken computer onto the floor with a crash and stood up straight, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Everyone in the room jumped except for Bond and M at Q's sudden outburst. He felt like he had let her down, like it was his fault and at the moment there was nothing he could do to remedy it.

After a moment of silence Bond pushed away from the wall and stood beside Q. "Now the question is, what did they want with you? And how do we stop them?"

Q nodded and bit his lip, looking around the room and glaring at the other temps until they either filed out or resumed tedious work. With a sigh, he turned back to Bond.

"Time to save the world again 007?" Q said after a pause and slid his glasses back onto his face; both men regaining their steely expressions as they looked at one another. Whatever they felt for Agent 009 had to remain locked down, and they both knew it. To do anything else would be to write a death note for the three of them and spell failure for the operation.

"Indeed," M said as she put her hands in the pockets of her suit jacket and nodded approvingly. "Get to work. Both of you."

Darkness. That is all the Belle saw as she adjusted her wrists against the unforgiving plastic of the zip tie. As soon as the helicopter had left London, Renard had blindfolded her. She bit her lip as she tried to keep her breathing even. Belle was not afraid of much but tight places rattled her more than she cared to admit; the cramped compartment of the helicopter now paired with the darkness of the blindfold was not helping her phobia.

It seemed they had traveled for hours and she shifted in her seat as she felt someone's presence in her personal space. Renard took her chin in his hand and turned her toward him as he spoke, "What's your name?"

At this point, Belle would have liked nothing more than to spit in his face, but now was not the time for such a thing. She was trapped at the moment with no means of escape and it was probably best not to do anything rash.

"French. Belle French." She said quietly and turned her head back down as he let go of her face.

"Belle French, the quartermaster of MI6. Prettier than I thought you'd be." He sat back in his seat and took off his glove, pulling a small metallic wand out of his pocket.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" she sneered. He moved closer and unbuttoned her coat, reaching inside. Belle had had enough, her patience only went so far; she was nervous, trapped and couldn't see what he was doing. She kicked her leg out, hitting nothing but the air in the compartment as he easily dodged her and grabbed her by the throat with the hand that was still gloved.

He gripped her tight enough to get her attention and snarled close to her face. "Hold still. I will knock you unconscious and I cannot promise my men are quite the gentlemen that I am."

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she listened to his words and bit her lip. Gentleman her arse. But she stayed silent and nodded as much as his grip on her throat would allow. He slowly released her and moved her coat to the side, waving the bar of the wand along her torso and down her legs slowly. It issued a small beep at her belt but stopped and Belle knew what he was doing, he was checking her for bugs that could still be in place from MI6. The file said that Renard was a borderline genius, so she shouldn't have been surprised that he would think of something so basic as a tracker.

Her whole body tensed as he turned her around and the device in his hand went crazy as it passed over her bound hands. She tightened her grip on her mother's ring and willed the damn thing to stop beeping.

"What do we have here?" He said as he set down the device and made her unclench her fists. She whimpered as he slid the band off of her finger and she hated herself for allowing him to hear such a noise. She couldn't see what he did with it; she only knew that it was gone. The last thing she had of her mother, as well as her last hope, vanished in an instant.

He dropped the ring into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, checked to make sure Belle's seatbelt was secured as he stood and grabbed the handle attached to the ceiling, "We're landing."

The helicopter landed with a soft jolt a short time later and Belle scrunched up her face as Renard slid the door open and a wind colder than any she had ever known in London blew through the cockpit. He leaned over and slid the blindfold off of her eyes and tossed it aside as he jumped down into the snow drift. The light reflected off of the frozen mountains was blinding and she winced as her eyes adjusted to the blindfold being gone.

He reached up and lifted her out of the helicopter and she sank lightly into the snow. He leaned in and whispered against her hair as she took in the scenery and the blades of the aircraft slowed with a deep whomp, whomp sound that echoed over the vast mountains. "Welcome to Russia, madame."

They walked up the small hillside. Renard's hand firmly grasping Belle's upper arm half dragging, half assisting her through the ridiculous amount of snow. His crew filtered off around him until only three remained in place, poised at his back, each holding an automatic Uzi to their chest. Mountains, mountains as far as the eye could see, covered in snow with bits of jagged rock spaced throughout. It was gorgeous but Belle's heart sank as she realized there was no sign of civilization anywhere. As far as a means of escape went, her odds were slowly declining.

As they topped the hill she let out a small gasp at the sheer size of the mansion secluded in the drifts of ice and rock. Once closer, Belle concluded that 'mansion' was not the right word for Renard's hideout. Castle, yes 'castle' was more proper when describing the ornate structure of stone and glass that towered above them, strong yet still forgotten by time alone in the extensive wilderness.

Renard opened the giant wooden doors and immediately started barking orders to the few men that were lounged in front of the fireplace to their right. He pulled Belle to a stop and passed her off to a taller man with shaggy black hair and eyes so green Belle had a moment to wonder if his mother had been a lynx.

"Take her upstairs."

"Wait." Belle said as the larger man started guiding her towards the double staircase in the center of the grand hall. But no one was listening, Renard had turned his back and the rest of the men in the room knew where their orders came from and it was not her.

"OUT." Renard yelled as he walked into the library and the one man who was in there scrambled to obey, shutting the door firmly behind him. After the nameless lackey had vanished, Renard walked to the window and threw open the glass frames, letting the cold air blow into the room as he inhaled deeply.

However frigid the air might have been, he couldn't feel it. Neither cold nor hot penetrated his flesh and his body remained at a constant state of normalcy. Balling his hands into fists, he squeezed until his fingernails cut the top layer of skin on his palm, but he didn't feel that either. All he wanted was a release and the bullet in his skull was the barrier. Striding to the shelf he threw the first glass object he saw and shattered it against the stone wall, he flung a book into the porcelain case in the corner and stood in the room breathing heavy and looking at his destruction. The plan of taking MI6 had gone swimmingly, he had his quartermaster, he was winning. So why did he feel like this?

Elektra.

She was there. They had her. Nearly ten years ago his entire plan had gone under once he found out Bond had put a bullet in the breast of his beloved Elektra King. And now she was back, alive; judging by the look in her eyes, perhaps not entirely sane but alive nonetheless. He couldn't feel anything for anyone but when it came to her he tried, God in Heaven did he try for her, and she shunned him. Used him up, then shut him out. After he crawled out from what was supposed to be his watery grave, he spent these many years rebuilding his plan, recruiting for his cause and coming to terms with his hate for the person he had come closest to loving.

Seeing her however, had almost undone all those years of hard work. The way she looked at him in desperation to rescue her from the people who had taken their lives had pulled at his cold heart for a split second before the beautiful karma of her situation had made it all too easy to leave her behind.

Then there was Bond. He had stood in the way far too many times and his only redeeming quality was that he had put an end to Elektra, and now he didn't even have that. Britain's secret service now knew too much, they knew he was alive and well, but he had traded that knowledge for their quartermaster. The next phase of his plan was secured upstairs in a dainty package topped with burnt sienna curls and as he gained his composure once more, Renard had faith that this time would be different.