It was late January, her son was at school and she was at work. It was still in that bitterly cool stage of British winter where you never knew if snow or rain was contained in the overcast skies. Charlie always hoped for snow but in Britain, winter never promised such weather.

She paid no attention to her employees huddled round a TV in the staffroom as she got her coffee the afternoon, only pushing through the small gathering when she heard the familiar tone of Sophie Rayworth from BBC News at one. "The investigation is underway on the possible cyber-attack on the British Secret Service at their base Vauxhall cross..." She continued the report, drawing Vesper closer to the TV screen. Her heart was racing, was he okay, was M okay?

On the screen Vauxhall cross was shown spewing thick plumes of smoke from its upper levels where the bomb had obviously gone off. "Reports of 4 dead and many taken to the hospitals from the scene to treat injuries shortly after the explosion."

She stood, completely dumbfounded as the news continued on to the next headline. James rarely spent any time at Vauxhall cross, only to get missions or verbal warnings from M because of things he had done on missions. M still worked there though, the woman who had given her an opportunity to have a life of raising her son, as well as hundreds of Mi6 employees.

She had no clue that at the exact same time in Turkey, James Bond was watching the same news story play out. The same headline that was putting her life into a churning mess was assembling his back together. It would be the one thing that would bring him back from the dead, and eventually back into her life.

She waited, hours after she had put her son to bed that night for a call from M. Nothing. She left a message on the number M had given her when she moved to Cambridge. Nothing.

Watching the breakfast news a few days after whilst she made her son's breakfast she saw why, the woman was being brought under scrutiny for the security breach. They wanted to find out who was responsible for the terrorist attack and assumed she had the answer. M had more important things to sort out than answering a message.

She read the list of names in the Times Obituaries after she had read Charlie's bedtime story and knew he was asleep. She scanned them. Once. Twice. Relief flooded her as her brain finally registered the lack of a James Bond in the section. He was still alive, well as far as she knew he was.

As Winter turned into Spring, the names were released, they trickled through the media as rain trickled through the small canopy of leaves a few trees provided in early March. The undercover agents were executed, he wasn't though. She took her son to school, watching him run into the classroom before she left, she worked. She automatically checked the news now, she read of the public inquiry being held in Trinity Square due to the public pressure of the head of Mi6. Someone needed to be blamed. M was the obvious Scapegoat since they had no perpetrator.

Then the horrifying reports were released of a Terrorist attack on the underground, 3 people dead due to an explosion which caused the train to derail. She learned of the many fatalities, none of them being MI6 officials though. Namely the train driver and a few security guards.

Then there was silence. Too much silence, the calm before the storm. Vesper couldn't dwell on it though, she had a life to get on with. She worked, played with her son Charlie, read to him, fed him, walked him to school. This was her life, it didn't revolve around MI6. It couldn't revolve around it, she had a son after all.

No perpetrator was caught; no news fuelled the story as it was laid to rest. The trail had gone cold as the weather grew mild. That was until she caught a part of a News segment whilst she cleaned the sitting room, putting her son's toys away. The boy in question sat by the coffee table, colouring in as a wind down activity before bedtime.

"Mallory has been instated as the head of the secret service, Olivia Mansfield died last month at the age of 65." Vesper had no recognition of the name but the photo that accompanied it showed a woman she knew very well. M.

She was dead.

Vesper froze in shock falling onto the sofa behind her, as her son looked up with a frown from the cushion he was sitting on. The reporter went on as her ever inquisitive son stood up and sat next to her on the sofa.

"Mummy, what's wrong?" Wide blue eyes stared up at her from where he was nestled into her side, eyes so full of concern at her reaction to the man on the telly.

"Nothing darling." She murmured, pulling him into her arms and kissing his forehead as she ran her fingers through his blond hair. "I'm okay, why don't you show me what you've been colouring and then we can read a bit before bed." She smiled, trying to process the news report that was long over.

Somehow Vesper managed to walk her son through his bedtime routine, reading him 2 chapters of the lion, the witch and the wardrobe.

Her son, so innocent and untainted by the world he was born into. He was only in reception now but soon he would learn more at school. Ask more questions. Where is daddy mummy? Why don't I have a daddy?

James. He was out there, the thought of him made her emotional and panicked over what to do. Was it fear, dread, anticipation - she didn't know what she felt anymore. She didn't even know if he was alive, his superior was dead so what concrete evidence suggested he was still living.

As she got up the following morning and got her son ready for school, she could only hope that the stern looking Malory would be too preoccupied with the shakeup of the secret service to keep an eye on her. Who says he had even found her file? Hurrying into work, she watched the bustling streets of central Cambridge to see if any eyes followed her.

No phone calls. No one keeping an eye on them. Weeks flew by as the weather grew warmer, Charlie's birthday loomed and he was as energetic as ever. Running, jumping as he rambled on about his day to her when they played in the small garden.

She made sure her son was her priority, that he monopolized her time so she didn't think of James. It had been 5 years since she 'died', who knew if he even remembered her. Sometimes the mischievous grin, the James smile as she called it, would appear on Charlie's face and made her want to drop everything. She could take her son to London, find his father so he could have a family. It was frivolous and so unlike her, but she wanted the best for Charlie, for him to know his father.

Some might even call it fate when her boss had called her into his office that afternoon, James was still right after all these years about her aloof nature in the workplace. People thought her to be arrogant, that her prickly shell gave her an heir of superiority. That was why even when she had a 5 year old son, people thought her to be unapproachable. She had no work friends. She had Charlie, Maria their nanny and a couple of parents from the school. Her boss was offering her a transfer, a promotion to their main office in London. She told him she would think about it but she already knew her answer. Charlie was young enough to move and not be completely uprooted by it. He was young enough for his curious nature to not question where his daddy was. It was time to move.

It was time to find James bond.