Hello again! This was last updated two years ago, and I'm really, really sorry that it's taken so horribly long. Not sure exactly how long it'll take to finish this, but I wanted to have another go at it. I'm keeping the first chapters the same, save for a few formatting fixes, and will continue on from chapter six anew. This accounts for the slight shift in writing styles from six to seven- in two years, my writing's changed considerably, hopefully for the better.

Enjoy!

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The apartment building appeared empty in the moonlight, the cool wash of three AM that seemed to pull back to midnight, the cold and the dark. The windows reflected nothing, revealed nothing, and it was too easy to blur the image and see a hotel, anywhere. Bond found himself bothered by this, far more than usual, and attributed it to exhaustion and nothing else. He'd taken the first flight out, the duration of which had been riddled by thoughts that refused to be silenced, enough so that arriving to a dark, impersonal apartment almost appeared desirable.

Dark, however, should have been darker. Bond stared down at the light seeping from under the apartment door, his mind, over-tuned machine of escape and attack that it was, already simultaneously analyzing methods of entry as well as possibilities as to what he would encounter. He edged the door open, gun leading, and the first thing he noticed was that the intruder was cooking.

Cooking well.

That fact did little more than irritate him further; the audacity, that someone would break in, and ridicule him... Bond had no culinary talent, was something of a disaster in the kitchen. He was unfamiliar with the entire apartment, the kitchen most of all. The sight he was presented with was enough to stop his breathing entirely.

Tan-Sun was standing at the island counter, eating something he'd cooked and staring off into space. MI6 had nearly searched the world over for Tan-Sun, and to find him here... Bond's sharp intake of breath made Tan-Sun glance over, and he beckoned for Bond to sit at one of the counter stools across from him.

Audacity. Bond had always preferred blunt enemies. They were far easier to distance himself from.

"Forgive me for the ridiculous question, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"I think that's rather obvious." Tan-Sun shook his head, as the words the audacity of that bastard crossed Bond's mind yet again, "I'm hiding."

"Right." Bond lowered his gun, finger staying curled over the trigger. "That's fairly obvious. You aren't very good at it, are you?"

"I'm not hiding from you."

"You really aren't very good at this, are you?" Bond just glared when Tan-Sun smiled.

"We're not playing the same game, Bond. I'm hiding from them. If I were hiding from you, I would at least have had the foresight to hide under the couch."

"If that's all you want, you could have hidden in M's office, too. She's less liable to shoot you."

"If you're that eager to get a bullet in me, I suggest you shoot me in the leg or something. I doubt M would be happy to find me dead." Tan-Sun shrugged, "although the blood would be something of a bother. Then again, your kitchen is pitiful anyways."

"Not one of my concerns."

"So I gathered." The casual behaviour was wearing on Bond's nerves. "I figured this beats hiding in the compound garage. The farther away the better. And if there's one place I'd never go, it's here." Bond watched the long fingers tapping against the counter top, then looked up to scan Tan-Sun's face. The enviously chiseled features showed no anxiety.

"And you trust I won't pose more of a threat to you."

Tan-Sun shrugged a shoulder at Bond's remark. "A risk I'm willing to take."

"Rather impetuous of you."

"True." Tan-Sun ignored Bond's glare and wandered into the sitting room. "How perfectly charming," he drawled, "they do say impersonal is the new black." Bond drew in a breath, held it and counted to ten. "The photographs are a nice touch, if lacking human subjects. Did they come with the frames?"

"If all you're going to do is mock my apartment," Bond growled, stalking to the doorway, "perhaps you would be better off in the compound garage." Tan-Sun; sitting in the centre of the couch with his laptop open before him; looked over his shoulder at Bond.

"The décor would certainly be better," he shrugged, turned back to the screen. Bond remained in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, surveying the room. He found himself wishing his apartment had more furniture. The couch wasn't nearly suitable; the armchairs, of course, wouldn't do; the floor didn't appear to be all that comfortable; the table was laughable. And that was the extent of the furniture.

"What is so utterly fascinating?" Tan-Sun had been watching him for some time, Bond noticed too late. He slung an arm across the back of the couch, staring at Bond unwaveringly.

"A… er…." Bond bit his lip; delicate phrasing was not his forte. "nothing." Tan-Sun arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. Bond wandered out of the room, but returned a minute later, having found nothing to help him. "It would seem…" he began hesitantly. Tan-Sun looked at him expressionlessly, "If you're to be staying here, I suppose you'll want somewhere to sleep."

"Nowhere else, hmm? Not a problem." He smiled wolfishly. Bond scowled.

"The floor it is."

Despite everything, when woken at sunrise by Tan-Sun climbing into the bed, Bond did nothing but allow Tan-Sun's embrace to envelope him, in a warmth unfamiliar and impossible.

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Bond woke to emptiness in Tan-Sun's place, wrapped in nothing but cold silence. His absence momentarily set off internal alarms, but the clattering of a chair in the kitchen quieted them. He found Tan-Sun in the kitchen, holding the Bond's phone in one hand and half a bagel in the other.

"It would seem that your phone book is in Russian," Tan-Sun said dryly, not looking over, "security precaution?"

"Yes."

"You speak Russian?"

"Don't you?"

"Hilarious," Tan-Sun grumbled. Bond shrugged, distracted by the fact that there was a plate with a bagel and a cup of tea sitting on the counter, clearly meant for him. "The number? Or would you rather I dial every person in here?" Bond rattled off the number absent-mindedly, taking a seat. "Good morning. This is Tan-Sun Moon." Tan-Sun spoke into the phone, "I just wanted to inform you that I am, at the moment, in 007's kitchen."

Bond could just barely hear M's voice, saying, "excuse me?"

"I merely wanted you to be fully aware of this fact." He listened for a moment, then held the phone out to Bond. "She would like confirmation that you are not being held captive. I appreciate her confidence in me, but the accusation is slightly ridiculous, given the situation." Bond arched an eyebrow and took the phone.

"Yes?"

"Moon is in your apartment?" M's words laid an assault to his ear in their volume. He cringed, holding the phone a few inches away.

"Yes."

"So you are aware. Tell me you're not being held hostage."

"I am not being held captive," he confirmed, glowering when Tan-Sun snickered. "I highly doubt he would be capable of such."

"Don't doubt me," Tan-Sun warned, and Bond just rolled his eyes.

"Fine," M was saying, "let me speak with him. I will set some ground rules. Surveillance will be arranged."

"Of course." Bond handed the phone back over. He mostly tuned out the argument, only hearing Tan-Sun's occasional outbursts.

"It's not trespassing," Tan-Sun protested, "it's self-invitation. Clearly very different." Another pause. "I really don't think breaking and entry is our main concern here." Bond took his breakfast and wandered into the living room to flip through channels aimlessly as Tan-Sun talked in the kitchen. When Tan-Sun walked into the room, he handed the phone to Bond without a word.

"M say anything important?" Bond asked. Tan-Sun looked almost rattled, if such a thing were possible.

"Looks like I've got a trip to Cuba coming up," he said flatly, "some unstarted business to take care of."

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Hope everyone liked that!

Not sure how regular updates will be, but I wanted to at least start, for the wonderful people who are still waiting for updates.

Please review!

Love ya,

Sunshine