Christmas Day dawned grey and cool, the sky threatening rain. Vesper had never really been that fond of the holiday, not since her father's death. He had done his best to make it fun for her, had bought her gifts and always put up a tree, even in the later days as his alcoholism worsened and his health declined.

But once he was gone, Christmas lost all meaning for her. She had never stayed anywhere very long, moving from care home to care home, no one particularly concerned with the sullen, dark-haired teenager. None of them had truly celebrated the holiday.

So she spent the day like she spent most days, eating, reading, watching television, and going for a walk. She had been writing in her journal daily, detailing her measurements and weight (she had purchased a bathroom scale and weighed herself daily), her thoughts and feelings and the baby's activity rate for James.

She couldn't believe how beneficial it had been to be able to take down this information, how wonderful it was to have someone else to share her experience with, even if it was just a journal. She was aware James would likely never read her words, but it comforted her nonetheless.

The last week of the year went by quite quickly for Vesper, who was glad to see it go. It had been, certainly, the most interesting year of her life so far, but it had been tarnished and marked by the horrific events that had occurred.

She was, only now, starting to mend from them, to be able to think on them without the crushing guilt and pain that had previously accompanied the thoughts.

She was ready to say goodbye to this year, to move to the year that her child would be born, to a year with the hope of a new life, one no longer tainted by the heartache of the past.

So, on New Year's Eve, as midnight drew closer, she stood at her bedroom window, looking down on the young revellers and party-goers already stumbling about, a few them in the middle of a premature drunken rendition of "Auld Lang Syne."

She smiled at them, shaking her head, her hand resting on her swollen abdomen. The baby was awake, kicking and moving about, as if it sensed how important the occasion.

As the clock neared midnight, they began counting down and she found her lips moving in time with the loud chorus, smiling as the clock struck twelve and they began cheering and singing. She couldn't resist in mouthing along to the words, their meaning not lost on her, as old acquaintances of her own came to mind.

When it was over, she sighed deeply, her hand caressing her belly. A bittersweet feeling came over her as she thought back on the year that had been. A pang of sorrow and longing hit as she thought of James, his bright eyes and his smirk, of the time they'd spent together, and the circumstances that had torn them apart.

She allowed herself a moment to let the sadness and self-pity flood through her before the baby gave her a particularly violent kick and she came back to the present. It was a new year, and, she hoped, one that would be kinder to her. And one, she knew, in which she would have little time for feeling sorry for herself. A new person would soon need all of her attention and would not allow its mother the luxury of wallowing in her sorrow.

She looked down at her swollen belly, at the rounding that now obscured her feet, that was beginning to make life a little uncomfortable for her. She placed her hand on it and made a promise that she would make this child's life the best that she could. She would never disappoint this child, never abandon it, and she would make the absence of its father as inconspicuous as possible.

Then the baby gave another kick and she smiled, imagining it had heard her silent vow, and she looked back out the window at the new year.

Meanwhile, as the revellers carried on with Vesper watching, twenty-three hundred miles east in Kazan, Russia, James Bond spoke with M outside Yusef Kabira's flat. Snow fell down lightly around them.

"I assume you have no regrets?" she asked James.

"I don't," he replied, looking at her, the ghost of a smile on his face. "What about you?"

"Of course not," the woman replied, after a beat, "it would be unprofessional."

She informed him of Dominic Greene's death and Leiter's promotion, knowing he knew more than he was letting on, but unable to bring herself to care.

"Congratulations," he said, looking away from her, "you were right."

"About what?"

"About Vesper," he told her, giving her one last look before he stepped past her. "Ma'am."

"Bond?" M asked, and James turned to look at her.

"I need you back."

"I never left." He turned to leave and the older woman watched. Her eyes strayed to the silver necklace he'd dropped in the snow. She stared at it, thinking of the woman who'd worn it, who was probably now asleep in her bedroom in her South Croydon flat.

She allowed herself a few seconds of regret over what she'd done, and over James's admission. He had loved her, would still if she were here today. But that thought was enough to make up her mind. She needed him back, and the woman would be a distraction. It was simple. Her secret would remain a secret.

She turned and walked back into the flat, out of the cold.

A/N: Hey all, I'm not really fond of leaving notes, but just had to clarify a few things, timeline-wise. I tried to figure out QoS's timeline with little success. Even though at one point it is allegedly 2008, it's clear the film takes place in the weeks and months following CR, ie., from August 2006 onward, so I decided that the last scene in QoS occurs in the wee hours of New Year's Day 2007. As well, a few guest reviewers have been asking about when James is going to appear, and as I cannot PM them back, I thought I'd let you all know that he will not be back in Vesper's life for quite some time. But he will, eventually, don't worry about that. Anyways, thanks to you all for your support and your reviews! -KT