A.N. Obviously, I own none of the characters, vehicles, gadgets or locations of this fanfic unless I say otherwise in an A.N. like this one. Kudos to MGM and Ian Fleming for inventing them and bringing them all to life.

(20 YEARS AGO)

Archangelsk, Siberia

The two black-suited men swiftly drifted through the Russian nerve gas facility like shadows, not a camera not guard aware of their presence. 006 and 007. Comrades, killers, but above all, friends.

"Night night," Alec Trevelyan muttered as he dispatched a guard silently, Walther PPK claiming another victim, and prepared to move on.

"Wait, Alec," James Bond hissed, throwing up a hand. Moving into the small room where the guard lay dead in a crumpled heap, the two agents peered out of the glass windows. Below was a warehouse full of highly explosive tanks, undoubtedly full of pressurised nerve-gas.

Alec whistled. "That's it. Let's get down, plant the charges, and be back in town for a pint."

James grinned. "It's almost too easy."

Alec smiled too. "Half of everything is luck, James."

"And the other half?"

Suddenly, raucous alarm bells sounded, blaring throughout the facility. 006 and 007 knew exactly why.

Alec grimaced. "Fate!"

The agents quietly slipped out of the room and made their way to the stairs, where they ran to the warehouse floor and spread out. Both slipped charges from bags, both set the timers to six minutes.

Bond set his fifth timer, and glanced up to see an entire legion of Russian troops smash through the glass windows and pour down the stairs. Trevelyan was immediately on the scene, and unblinkingly brought down the leading soldiers with a steadfast aim. However, as more and more soldiers came out, and Bond set his sixth timer, Trevelyan was overwhelmed and forced to the floor. An imposing figure stood over him. General Arkady Grigorovitch Ouromov aimed his gun at Trevelyan's head and looked up to where Bond was hidden, at work with his charges.

Uncharacteristically, Bond didn't even notice the cease in gunfire. He planted the eighth charge, and set it to six minutes, at which point every other timer around the room, busy ticking down, also reset to the same time and started ticking again. It was an essential safety measure by Q to ensure that the first charge didn't run down and kill you before you had planted the last one.

Jokingly, he shouted, "Shut the door, Alec, there's a draught!"

No response. No repartee, no witty reply, nothing. The door didn't even audibly close. Suddenly, Bond noticed the eerie silence.

"Alec?" Suddenly, 007 was worried. He glanced out, and his stomach sank. At least fifty Russian soldiers had rifles trained on his friend Trevelyan, as well as General Ouromov, who was actually pressing his gun into 006's head. Bond knew that this time, there would be no dodging the fire. Not for Alec, anyway. He ducked behind the gas tank again.

"Come out with your hands above your head!" Ouromov's nasal Russian accent rang out.

"How original," 007 muttered, and prepared to set the timers to three minutes instead.

But then he stopped.

In a moment of blinding clarity, 007 realised what had to be done, and didn't make the fatal mistake of setting the timers to three minutes.

He stayed well behind the gas tanks, and called out to Ouromov:

"We are both prepared to die for our country. Our lives mean nothing compared to the destruction of this facility. So, I warn you, I will blow this whole place now if you don't do what I say." Bond pulled a switch from his pocket and waved it in the air. He hoped that Ouromov would take the bait. In reality, the bomb charges were, of course, on timers, and would detonate whatever happened. But, as the two MI6 agents had placed them facing away from the doorway, the Soviets probably didn't know that. At least, Bond hoped so. The switch itself was useless, a leftover from some remote mines used earlier on that day. But Ouromov didn't know that.

The Russian colonel glanced quickly around. As none were pointed at him, he could see none of the readouts on the charges, but he suspected they read "Armed" or something similar. And he knew that there were easily enough charges to blow the facility sky-high. If he hadn't stopped Trevelyan, maybe by now there would be enough firepower to blow the dam below too. There was a short period of silence as he thought hard. A bead of sweat rolled down Ouromov's brow.

"What do you want?" he hissed.

007 allowed himself a grin. Perhaps he was getting somewhere. But he needed to resolve this quickly. They only had another three minutes before the place went up.

"I want you to drop your gun. Actually, throw it over to me. A responsible adult. Alec, don't move."

Trevelyan hadn't, for the last five minutes.

The gun clattered at Bond's feet, and he picked it up. "Good. Now, let Alec get up, and walk slowly over to me."

Ouromov was furious. "No! We will not let you both go just so you can walk out and blow us up!"

Bond raised two placating hands. Two minutes left. "If you allow myself and Alec to leave via that conveyor belt," he indicated the one, "then in return, I will push the switch back through, so that I cannot detonate the charges. I expect you will get a bomb disposal team to help out, and tighter security…"

Ouromov licked his lips, tasting the sweat beaded on them. In the end, it was a good deal. It all came out with the British spies off location, and he had the switch, so the charges couldn't blow. Yes, that was probably good.

"Fine." He took a step back, and motioned to Trevelyan. "Go." Alec stood up, and paced across the room, quietly thanking Bond sincerely. The two spies, Bond holding the switch high and with one finger resting on it should they be fired upon, walked across the room to where the conveyor belt disappeared in a tangle of rubber mesh, leading to the outside.

One minute.

Alec went first, crawling through the opening and out of range, feeling like a piece of luggage being transported outside. James then backed in, holding the switch high.

Ouromov retrieved his gun and aimed it shakily at 007, from just a couple of metres. "The switch, or I shoot it from your hand!"

Bond smiled, and placed the switch on the floor, crawling out of sight. Everyone visibly and audibly sighed with relief.

As soon as 006 and 007 were outside, they dashed around the tarmac surrounding the menacing building, to where they had cut through the perimeter fencing. Scrambling through the jagged hole, they ran over the thick grass, to where their transport was parked. It was an Aston Martin DB5, which was actually Bond's private car, but there was no time to discuss issues like that. Alec happened to be running on the left side of the pair, so he rounded the bonnet and leapt into the seat, slamming the door. James clambered quickly into his seat, Alec gunned the engine, and they were gone, disappearing down a small lane into the cold Siberian night.

Inside Archangelsk Chemical Weapons Research Facility, Ouromov turned to address his troops, seemingly in triumph. But as he turned, he was able to read the faces of the 13 charges on the huge nerve-gas tanks. Ouromov's mouth opened in shock, and he silently mouthed the words:

"Three…two…one…"

It was hard to tell what killed them first. The deadly nerve gas, or the gargantuan explosion. Either way, 006 and 007 were well away, and on the route to London, another assignment in the bag.

A.N. Okay, so basically, this chappie was all about how 006 didn't leave MI6 at Archangelsk, but returned home and resumed service, alive and well. Please R+R!