7pm; Bill arrived at Bond's Chelsea flat at the same time as the food. He followed Bond into the kitchen and they engaged inconsequential conversation as they served themselves. Bill asked if May, Bond's housekeeper was well.

"She and her friends are having a bit of a winning streak at the bingo – or whatever it is they do - at the moment. I've finally talked her into taking this Canada holiday that she's always talking about And I've made a couple of investments for her."

"How much has she won?" asked Bill astonished.

"A couple of jackpots. She tells me that they've become quite the envy," replied James. "Not enough money to retire on or anything like that, thank God, they share any winnings amongst themselves, but it's enough for her to get away and create a little "rainy day fund" I suppose. I've made provisions for her as best I can, but I believe the ad line is "every little helps"?" The men laughed easily and Bond indicated the laden plates, "Where shall we eat; here or trays in the living room?"

"Living room, if you don't mind. I've had enough of anything formal for one day," smiled Bill as he undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. He felt envious of Bond casually dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirt.

Both men made themselves comfortable, ate and talked about Alison Muir. Bond poured two very generous measures of his rather fine single malt and set the decanter on the coffee table between the two of them. Bill inwardly groaned at the amount of amber liquid contained within the crystal; James must have something big on his mind. That's the thing about him, thought Bill ruefully, when he invites you for a drink, he really does mean A Drink. Aloud he said, "Well, to be on the safe side, I've had taps put on her landlines and I am hoping that you have her mobile number to include that as well."

"It's on her business card. I am not convinced she's going to hear from him; in fact I think he's already dead."

"Experience or gut instinct?" smiled Bill.

"Masheter has kept her so separate from everything," said Bond halfway through a mouthful of chicken biryani. He waved his fork towards Bill, "There wasn't a single person at the lab who knew he was seeing anyone." He scooped up another forkful, "I'd love to see Professor Illingworth's face when he's told that Masheter was getting married. The only thing that prompted us to look deeper into his life were the tampons we found on the second sweep of his flat. Honestly, Bill – how on earth were they missed?" The laden fork finally found its mark.

Bill laughed and shook his head, "You know what it can be like. It's one of those things where the left hand just never thought that it was important enough to tell the right. There was very little in the flat that indicated he was seeing anyone. No photos, the DNA that we found wasn't exactly recent and had no hits. He called private numbers via VOIP and multiple PAYG mobiles – took us far too long to convince the providers that it really would be in their favour to assist. I was getting to the point of appearing at GCHQ and doing it all myself! You have to admit the tampon thing was funny. Up to then, in every meeting, Charles was insisting that Masheter must have a cross-dressing fetish from what we did find." Bill sobered, "I agree; he compartmentalized to an extreme. Possibly, he was trying to protect himself and her, by not giving them any more leverage?" Tanner mixed his rice into the biryani and then took a mouthful.

"Of course, he could be," admitted Bond. "But I just can't understand why he wouldn't tell any of his colleagues about her. It isn't as if he had anything to be ashamed of. As I said this afternoon, I do feel rather sorry for her," James took off his trainers.

Bill used naan bread to mop up his plate, "Why?" he asked.

James put his tray on the coffee table in front of him and sat back into his leather sofa, "Because when the balloon goes up on this, it's going to hurt."

Tanner looked at Bond. "There's nothing we can do about that, James," he mumbled while eating; looks like we're getting somewhere, he thought.

Bond sighed, looked at his Chief of Staff, "My report concludes that she doesn't know anything and I'm recommending that she's treated with kid gloves."

Bill continued to mop up the remainder of his curry, "You could be wrong," he said evenly not making eye contact.

James leant forward, "Yes, I could be, but I don't think so. She was distressed and confused by his lack of contact. I mean it, Bill, I am feel sorry for her. She didn't ask for this shit in her life. You know how the press will make a mockery of her once they pick it up."

Tanner put his knife and fork onto the plate, wiped his mouth with his napkin, put the tray onto the coffee table and sat back into the chair. "They'll have to find her first," returned Bill quietly looking at the man in front of him, and took a sip from his glass.

"Don't look at me like that," said James. "There's nothing personal here, but if you'd seen her, had the conversation, you'd feel like this too." Bond drained his glass and went to pour himself another. He motioned to refill Bill's glass. Tanner held out the cut crystal tumbler and watched the liquid level rise.

"Believe me, James, I'm not unsympathetic to this situation, and I wish to God we didn't have to use her like this; but we both know the score, if this means we have information against our enemies. Sex remains amongst the best information gathering methods." Bill looked on as James refilled his glass.

Bond sat opposite Tanner, he sipped the alcohol and rubbed his eyes, "I just feel it's always me though."

At last, thought Bill, "All section operatives do their 'fair share', if that's the acceptable term." Tanner sighed, "Unfortunately, though, you appear to be amongst the best we have. I gather they're left with some pleasant memories." Bill raised his glass to his lips. He considered trying to engage Bond's empathy with the Section's female operatives, especially on a psychological level with regard to their "fair share", but knew that Bond wasn't in a mood to "see" that. Bloody men! He thought, Flap B fits into any Slot A. It was the one part of his job that he hated during the mission briefing sessions for the female 00s. It was never openly mentioned, but there was always a tacit meaning to "information gathering by any means necessary". He was perfectly aware that the women wouldn't be there if they didn't understand or couldn't take care of themselves, and although the physical scars could be fixed, it was the psychological ones that caused the long-term damage, and he always felt like Her Majesty's Secret Pimp. However, Tanner made a mental note that it may very well be a good time to track down the current whereabouts of a DVD that some enterprising member of surveillance had cobbled together of some of Bond's more athletic "interviews" and finally take it out of circulation. "Always nice when the Government gives something back, eh?"

Bond eyed his colleague sourly at the sarcastic joke and drank a mouthful. Admittedly, he'd not had a disagreeable afternoon and his reaction to the sex had baffled him. He was sure he could have got her to talk over coffee; but no, not him, he would have wondered if he could have got more out of her and he would have gone back just to be absolutely sure. He made the right choice with regard to "information gathering" on this occasion. Rather than go straight home, Bond had stopped at his gym in the hope that a workout would lighten his mood. He arrived at his flat 90 minutes later and soaked in a hot bath. It hadn't helped. "I do get used more then?" he asked.

Bill put his glass on the tray and removed and pocketed his tie, "Not deliberately or intentionally, James," Tanner said slowly. "Your reputation however, does speak pretty loud." He made an effort to lighten the mood, "Penny even includes you as an unofficial topic on her staff admin induction course." He drank.

"Oh charming. Helena –"

"No, no you bloody well don't!" interrupted Bill. He leant forward and tapped the decanter a couple of inches from the bottom, "When we get here and you're more of a belligerent bastard than you're being at the moment, just remember – you bought her up, not me!"

"She didn't listen to Penny though did she?" Bond emptied his glass and poured again.

"We drum the security element into the admin staff over and over. Keep telling them, they must tell us if someone finds out about their work and are approached or threatened in any way," began Bill. "We tell them that we can protect them and their families; that they owe it to the whole department to tell us, they have to tell us-"

"I know."

"Some don't listen," Tanner continued sadly. "Helena let her fear override her judgement, and she paid the ultimate price. We could have lost you. Would you have preferred that?" The question hung for a beat before Bill continued, "At the end of the day, she was a stupid secretary who was replaced within hours. It would have taken us considerably longer – and greater expense - to replace a Double O!"

"If I'd got to her quicker-" started Bond.

"You may have saved her that time, but it was likely she would still have been killed at a later date. You know that," Tanner mentally held his breath as he knew where this conversation was heading.

True to form, Bond looked deep into his drink, uttered "Vesper" softly, drained the glass and refilled. He held out the decanter and Tanner refused while he composed what he was going to say.

Again, Bill looked at Bond evenly and with a neutral face. Vesper Lynd had been messy to put it mildly. The Quantum organisation, still working in the shadows, demonstrating that the conspiracy theorists were correct, but those pulling the strings were not mystical in the slightist, it was just the same level of human foibles: greed, power, control and who will do what to obtain and keep them … Quantum, SPECTRE, The Union – all of them with the same delusions of global grandeur. The problem with Vesper Lynd was simply that she had been the first of what has become a very long line. He was about to say something when Bond looked at him and said, "You know Alex Trevelyan asked me if the Martinis drowned out the screams of the women I couldn't save."

Tanner arched an eyebrow. All the 00s carry baggage of the kills that never quite went to plan; the missions where by their very nature, the agents are forced to become involved on a personal level and at the end, when all is played out, be the ones to put a bullet between the eyes to destroy the threat so the rest of us can sleep soundly at night and continue with our not-so-very-important lives. That was the part of the job they did which Tanner always thought inhumane and cruel to his people, not the targets; never the targets – they always got exactly what they deserved. But they died and his people had to keep on going to perform the eventual final task over and over.

"You can't save everyone, James. Leave that to Hollywood," Bill sipped and felt the delicious scotch blaze a trail down his throat. "I know that's a glib remark, but you know how true it is. Everytime you are in the field, you are tasked to achieve the unimaginable. Vesper was the same as Helena; she made a choice – the difference is that she wasn't Service, but you saved that Canadian from a similar fate." Tanner watched Bond nod in agreement. He went on, "The intel provided enabled our friends in the CSIS to basically head off what seemed to be some rather inconsequential investments in their mineral industries and we have been able to give the wink and nod to our Australian cousins as to what to look for as well."

Bond looked at him dourly, "Shadows. Weren't they over-reaching themselves?"

"Yes," agreed Bill, "It's all shadows. Over-reaching? Hard to tell. Quantum are playing a long game. What you were able to uncover in Bolivia, showed their hand and, more importantly, their tactics at that time. I think whatever they had planned for Canada was an experiment, see what they could get away with; maybe challenge us, maybe the CIA, just to measure what we would do and then retreat and analyse." Bill leant forward, "I'm intrigued as to why they appeared to concentrate on South America and not both there and Africa?" Bill warmed to his subject, drained his glass and refilled enough, "I keep telling myself that Africa had to be too damned obvious as we're always watching Africa and America only appears to concern itself with what's below them when too many dollars are going up the noses of the wealthy young or some Republican border state Governor screams about immigration." Bill leant back, "Makes you long for a another Scaramanga or Stromberg or Drax." He gave a short laugh. He drank, "What is it with meglomanics these days? They do it in committee and they don't appear to have any vision!"

Bond cracked a smile, "Hmm." He downed the contents of his glass and automatically refilled. "They've retreated?"

"For the time being. Personally, I think they – and organisations like them – are more dangerous than politics and the possibility of war. I believe one day we'll go to sleep and wake up with these people running the planet and we'll scratch our heads wondering how it all happened. Then the fun will really start."

The evening continued. Both men washed up; Tanner grinned behind Bond's back wondering what pithy remark or look M would give were she to see them both in Bond's kitchen. Missions were discussed; Bond took this opportunity to catch up on his colleagues within the Section. It made Tanner realise just how isolated the operatives were; it was very rare that two of them worked together. That wanker, Trevelyn! No cosy department Christmas luncheon for all of them. Tanner tried to remember when the last time M addressed the entire 00 Section - Jesus! - Scotland, the assassination of Sir Robert King. That long ago …

The two of them returned to Bond's living room; office gossip was shared and Tanner realised that Bond was back to compartmentalizing his emotions and thoughts. Doesn't matter if he felt he was being "used" more often than other agents, Bond was perfectly aware of the effect he had on the opposite sex and how he can manipulate that to suit him and his requirements to complete the mission or move it closer to conclusion. As much as Bill valued Bond's friendship and admired his skillset, he always felt that it would be less than human not to admit that he wasn't envious of Bond's obvious attractiveness to women.

Bond went to stand, lost balance and sat down again with a thump, "I think I've had enough to drink." He ran his had through his hair and stood again with considerable more effort to keep balance.

Tanner rose, "Come on, l think it's time you went to bed and I went home."

"I don't need tucking in! Not one of your bloody kids," muttered Bond as he moved slightly unsteadily to his bedroom.

"Never said you did," Tanner followed him. "But neither do I want you tripping over and being concussed, okay?" Tanner stood in the door way as Bond flopped onto his bed. Immediately he noticed the photograph of Tracy. James never hid his deceased wife, but neither did he put her on display and Tanner knew that what photographs James had of her were mostly confined to a few photos here and at his home in Jamaica, to see a photo of her by his bedside was almost an anchronism but a strong indication of his current state of mind.

"Is there anything you want me to get you before I leave?" Tanner asked.

"No. I'll be in late tomorrow."

"I'll let you off. Mind if I wait for a car pick up and make a coffee?"

"Be my guest. And don't forget to turn out the lights," Bond yawned.

Bill switched off the bedroom light and closed the door. He leant against the wall, rubbing his eyes. The alchohol was starting to take effect and he wondered how Bond would react in the morning if he found him on the sofa.

Rather than call for the car immediately, Bill put the kettle on for his coffee and reflected on the past few hours. One never knows what triggers these sort of chats, and Tanner knew that that they formed the "any other duties as required" part of his job description. He'd found that of the entire Section, 007 was able to compartmentalize better than most and Tanner accepted that the casual sex, drinking and even the visits to a casino, were part of Bond's character and, possibly coping mechanism to the point of defence against M, the MI6 medical teams, etc. He'd always appreciated Bond's principal that he'd leave the service for the right person or thing and never look back. That was one of the traits that Bill liked about James, there was no pretence or double standards – he was all in or he was all out. Tanner wondered if that man would ever have managed to have genuinely settled down with Tracy. He tried to imagine Bond in a different place with an adoring wife who seemed to fall pregnant every time he looked at her and children clambering over him. In his mind's eye, Tanner saw a vibrant, happy man – content; not the almost dead-eyed, constantly assessing and reacting machine his country demanded. God, life was cruel!

The kettle was beginning to boil and Bill started searching for both a mug and coffee – for a split second he wondered if instant coffee would be something Bond would even consider having in the house. And whispered, "thank you God" when he found the jar of Douwe Egberts. In his alcohol despressed state and after the evening's conversaton, Tanner couldn't help but think about the day that had been so happy and ended so tragically.