Chapter 11

***James Bond***

James didn't have to open his eyes to know, where he currently was. The old underground bunker that MI6 was using had a particular smell and grayness that could not be manufactured by any other facility. With a sigh, he tried to rise from the bed, wondering how long he'd been lying here when he should be out there finding the people who tried to take M from him.

As he moved from the bed he grimaced. The pain was less, but it was still there.

"I wouldn't do it if I were you," a voice called out.

He looked at the agent near the window. "And you are?" Probably someone who would rat on him to the medical staff.

"I'm acting on strict orders from M, not let you get away before you're alright."

"Well, I'm ready for discharge. How long have I been here and where's the doctor?"

"Three days. M said not to let you leave."

One stupid knife wound. One. It didn't bother him more than usual, but he forgot to check on it. Bond was so used to having injuries, he didn't even bat an eye. Unfortunately, it festered under the dressing he used. He was in a combat situation, when the severity of it finally caught up with him. He felt dehydrated, slightly fevered and most of all, like a stupid rookie. It was a mistake. Well, he'd done worse things...kissing his boss was one of them.

"Where is she?"

"Fighting over the big chair with Mallory, I would expect. She wasn't very happy about you being injured and not telling anyone."

"Harumph." If she stayed hidden and dead like the world believed her to be. Mallory hid her away to heal and she would have had an advantage on her enemies, once she came back healed. The change in her recovery plans began with someone high up and knowledgeable, wanting her captive or dead for what she knows.

"My clothes?"

"In the wardrobe."

"Is Michael still with her?"

"Yes."

"And Tanner?"

"No word, so far as I know."

"Then it's time to help him." He purposefully walked to gather his clothes. "Could you fetch the good doctor?"

"You're not well, 007."

"I will be the judge of that. The doctor, please," he reminded him.

"Ok."

The second Bond was fully dressed, he left the room. He didn't have the time to wait for them. He needed to get out quickly, not spend his precious minutes with doctors and paperwork.

Good; his phone was still in a pocket of his pants. He calls the Quartermaster, one of the only people he currently trusted.

"Yes?"

"Tanner hasn't returned, Q?"

"No, he hasn't and M is worried."

"I need you to talk to her and tell her I'm going dark. Tanner needs help. It's not like him to go off on a mission; let alone by himself. Also; remind Michael he's not to leave her unprotected for a second."

James' heart skipped a beat, when instead of Q's voice, it was M who answered him.

"Do I have to remind you again who the head of MI6 is, 007?"

"Ma'am," he whispered reverently before he could catch himself.

"Yes. Me or my replacement Mallory. You're trying my nerves again, 007, and you should stay in bed to heal. I expected a high body count for my enemies, not my agents! I know this will not penetrate that thick skull of yours, so please resolve this situation quickly. Before I see you face to face and have to take away your double-0 status for insubordination. Believe me, right now I'm tempted to do exactly that."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, and Bond... the second you stop gallivanting around, would you come by my office with a complete mission report and explanation."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered lowly. The silence really didn't help. After a pregnant pause, Q finally held the phone again.

"I'm sorry. She waited here from the moment the agent at medical called to say you were awake. She was standing here expecting your call."

"Is she gone, Q?"

"Yes, so you'd best make this quick before she physically tracks you down. You can't fool M, she knows your usual stunts better than anyone else. Not that I'm surprised."

"Stop, Q. I need to know Tanner's last location."

"Of course."

James pressed against his side. The skin around the wound still felt hot through the layer of his shirt. Of course she knew him. Of course she would wait for his call. She was M. She was absolutely perfect and if she tracked him down in the halls, he would never escape her pull.

M…Olivia didn't slap him after he kissed her, which surprised him. Why didn't she? If he ever got the chance to ask...would he manage it?

"Bond!"

"Yes, Q." Now really wasn't the time to daydream about how her lips felt on his. He needed find out who wanted her dead and then kill them. "Q, what about Michael?"

"He's shadowing her everywhere. No worries about her safety Bond, I'm monitoring the corridors and her office. If someone does try anything; we'll know."

"Send me Michael's number."

"Bond, it's not necessary. I'm telling you. She's safe here."

"And I want to know Michael's number. You heard her. She wants me to give her my report and I can't very well show up unexpected. He could shoot me."

"Why would he be shooting at you in her office?"

James was silent.

"Oh. Of course. You won't go to her office. You will probably make a pass by her house or her car to give her a heart attack on top of everything else. Sometimes, I really don't understand you." Q said with exasperation in his voice.

Q wasn't the only one shocked by his actions. Bond didn't understand himself. What possessed him to kiss her? A momentary madness must have come over him for certain and she would in all likelihood kill him for this indiscretion. It was his fevered state that made him push her too far. He had kissed her to silence her. She won't forgive him for that, even if he managed to live through this mission.

Bond's head was clearer now thanks to the antibiotics and painkillers. He could remember how it felt to be close to her. How he felt being so near her for that long and how she tasted when he stole the breath from her in that kiss. Mainly, he realized that he wanted to do it over and over again.