After the joys of exams and essays I am finally about to enter my third year of training. I've been writing this story for significantly longer than I have been training. This cannot be a good thing.

What is a good thing is that in the last week I have managed to get my mandatory three chapters ahead of posting. Events are happening and it is the beginning of the end. Enjoy the latest offering.


'Sir?'

There was a faint flicker of annoyance on M's face as Charles interrupted her. Glancing up, she found her Chief of Staff looking murderous and instinctively turned towards whatever or whoever had provoked such a reaction from the usually placid man.

Standing in the door way to the command centre, flanked by armed guards, were James and Ashleigh. The pair of them simply exuded arrogance and the superiority of senior agents. In James's case, it was justified. In Ashleigh's? M sighed as she recognised the jaw tilt, the flash of defiance in the eyes. This was going to be difficult, she decided, noting the discreet but pointed stares of half the people in the room.

'007?' M gestured with a regal hand, 'Kain. This way please.'

Most of the agents in the room recognised James. It was hard not to, and so they gave up on being discreet completely and stared openly at the infamous 007. Ashleigh, on the other hand, drew curious glances and half recalled memories.

Irrationally Ashleigh was irritated. She had been a good agent, not particularly well known, or famous for any reason, nor had she been very close to anyone in the agency but she had been known. Had she really been away for that long? Watching the blank, curious, unfamiliar faces, she was forced to admit that perhaps she had. Humiliation brought colour to her cheeks, and for a moment she wanted to turn away, but instead she pushed herself forward, past the looks and the whispers.

You should remember me, she thought angrily. She wasn't a bad agent. Or rather, she hadn't been a bad agent. She had been described as a rising star on more than one occasion. She had been on the fast track for promotion. She had been respected. She had been one to beat.

Now she was nothing more than a half remembered face and a brief distraction from the tasks at hand.

It was embarrassing, and she found herself relieved to be in the sparse surroundings of M's makeshift office.

The formality could be dropped slightly now, and M looked fractionally more welcoming than she had to begin with. In fact, Ashleigh thought critically, M looked strained. Stressed almost. It could have been down to the location, compared to M's luxurious office at MI6 headquarters, this room left a lot to be desired. Small, cold, metallic, dominated by a vast desk almost too big for the room, it offered little comfort. The lack of windows, and therefore natural light, only heightened the starkness.

'Sit,' M gestured imperiously at two uncomfortable looking chairs. Torture techniques, Ashleigh thought, suppressing a hard smile. Put your victim in as much discomfort as possible, distracting them in the hopes that they'll slip up.

'Nice bunker,' James cast his eye around the room. 'Did you burrow it out yourself?'

'My predecessor's actually. It was his base for skiing,' M refused to be goaded.

'Hoping to hit the slopes yourself, sir?' James said pleasantly enough, but both women glanced at him suspiciously. There was an air of recklessness about James, his blue eyes glittered with an almost dangerous gleam.

'I have more pressing concerns than the quality of the powder, 007,' there was a distinct warning in M's voice.

The glare that M gave Bond would have turned the powdered snow into glittering ice crystals. Ashleigh stiffened in her seat, wishing she had the courage to extend a hand and restrain James, to warn him that this wasn't the time, that they needed M on side if matters where to go the way that they had planned. Her arm twitched at the subconscious desire and immediately, M's gaze turned back to her.

'You said you needed us, sir,' Ashleigh said softly, offering confidences. To her horror, M almost slumped in front of her.

'Yes,' the older woman said stiffly, and there was a trace of panic in that tone. She refused to look at her agents, choosing instead to stare fixedly at a particularly ugly landscape picture, hastily thrown on the wall to brighten the place up.

Finally, after several moments, M found the words. James waited, eyes still manic, watching his boss almost fall to pieces in front of him, while Ashleigh felt the smile slowly slip from her face as the silence grew.

'I'm rather afraid that I'm going to be killed,' M said with false brightness.

The coffee was vile, and Ashleigh gave the contents of the chipped mug a wary look before she risked another sip. Standing alone in a small makeshift kitchen, the jar of instant coffee on the counter before her and the battered kettle still steaming gently, she relished the brief moment's peace.

It was freezing cold in the bunker, and M had dismissed Ashleigh when she had seen the younger woman's shivering progressing from a mild shake to full on teeth chattering teamed with lightly blue lips. M, who rarely felt the cold, had taken pity and wanting to get James alone, had dismissed her with curt directions to the kitchen. Curt perhaps because she knew exactly what was on offer there, Ashleigh thought darkly.

'You're back then?' a snarling voice cut through her thoughts.

'Shit!' Caught completely off guard, Ashleigh jumped, sloshing coffee over herself.

Angrily, she grabbed a cloth, dabbing at the damp patches on her suit. 'Yes, I'm back,' she muttered defiantly.

'Angling for promotion?' Charles bitched. It was unlike him, and Ashleigh stared at him, trying to figure out what had happened to the Charles she had once thought she had loved.

'Hardly,' she turned, picking up the kettle and filling it up. Switching it on, she turned, gesturing with a mug. 'Coffee?'

'That stuff?' Charles said disgustedly, and then sighed, obviously aware it was the only thing on offer. 'Milk. Half a sugar.'

'I remember,' Ashleigh said tartly. 'Never did manage to kick the sugar habit, did you?'

'This from the woman who used to have to have three sugars in her latte before she could manage a sip.'

'I finally developed a taste for it,' she shrugged, spooning the coffee into the mug. 'Though for better stuff than this. What's happened to MI6's catering budget?'

'We're up in the Alps,' Charles waved vaguely in the direction of outdoors. 'The majority of the food is either preserved or dry freezed. Including the coffee.'

'I thought M would have demanded better?'

'M's mind is focused elsewhere,' Charles said confidingly.

'Mmm,' she was non-committal but Ashleigh knew what he meant.

'She wants to make you a full agent again,' Charles said quietly.

The clang of the teaspoon against the mug was the only sign of Ashleigh's shock. 'Really?'

'Against my better judgement.'

'It's M's decision,' Ashleigh defended angrily.

'And as her Chief of Staff, I am there to offer her advice and my opinion on her decisions.'

'Is it also in your role to block the decisions you deem to be wrong?'

'Yes.'

'So why are you telling me this?' Ashleigh practically threw the mug of coffee at him.

'I'm forewarning you.'

'Of your intent to block the decision?'

'No. As I said, I can only offer advice and opinions. M has the ultimate choice and I know she plans to reinstate you, even if I try to block it. So there's no point in objecting.'

Ashleigh's mind reeled. Full agent? For a moment she was terrified, and then a smile slowly slid over her face. ¢Good,' she said shortly, and not without some satisfaction.

'You're going to accept it?' Charles leant awkwardly on his crutches, shuffling his mug from hand to counter.

'I need all the protection I can get right now,' Ashleigh sipped thoughtfully. 'MI6 might be my best bet.'

'Protection?' Charles shrugged. 'You might get it. Or M might decide to throw you to the lions.'

'Lions I can handle.' The coffee really was disgusting. 'How is the leg?'

'Bloody painful. If I ever get my hands on your husband…'

Ashleigh frowned. Charles caught sight of the look and paused. 'Isn't that what you want?' he asked. 'To find him?'

The frown deepened and for a moment Charles thought she was going to throw the coffee in his face.

'It was never about finding Alec,' she said sadly. 'I wanted to find him because I thought he knew where Natasha was. He wouldn't tell me. So now I have to look for her alone. It's all about Tash, Charles. It's all about my daughter.'

'And Alec?'

'If I have to spend the rest of my life running from him, I will. As long as I have my daughter.'

'I can't promise anything, but if I can help you in anyway, I will,' Charles sighed heavily.

Ashleigh lifted an eyebrow. 'You've forgotten already, haven't you?'

'Forgotten what?'

'That you told me M was going to offer me full agent status while we were in Paris. I never took you as a liar, Charles. Tell me I'm wrong.'

Charles flushed. 'I thought perhaps… I thought she might. I was merely…'

'Jumping the gun? Or setting the bait?'

'It was the only way I could get you to do what I asked.' Charles said stonily, his features set into a look of defiance.

'Did you ever think of asking me outright? Or telling me the truth?'

'Would it have done any good?'

'Honesty always is the best policy. Or has MI6 forgotten that? I know I've been away for quite a while, but really, don't tell me the rot has set in that quickly?'

'Honesty has never been the best policy where MI6 is concerned, and never will be. I think you're looking on your past with rose tinted glasses, Ashleigh.'

'I might need to borrow them for my future,' she replied flippantly, staring hollowly into her empty coffee cup. 'So am I an agent or not?'

'Technically?' Charles managed a small smile. 'Yes. What I offered you in Paris was true. What M wants to offer is something more like an incentive…'

'For her or for me?'

'For you. M wants you back in England.'

Ashleigh stared at Charles wide eyed. 'England?'

Her head was spinning. England. Her green and pleasant land. The thought of London called to her and beckoned her home. She could return home. She would be…

'Protection,' she blurted out suddenly. 'I'll need protection.'

'We're back to that, are we? We'll do what we can but…'

'But against Alec Trevelyan, you're somewhat helpless,' Ashleigh's eyes flashed with anger. 'I can't risk losing my daughter, Charles.'

'And we can't let a known traitor to the crown swan in to the UK without our knowledge. We'll do our best, Ashleigh. For you and Natasha.'

'Thank you,' she said softly.

'For making you into what you already are?'

'No,' Ashleigh turned, rinsing the cup under the tap. 'For not stating the obvious. For pretending to believe that I'll get Tash back.'

There was a sadness in Charles dark eyes that he didn't dare voice. He looked away before Ashleigh turned and saw it.

'M wants you back in the office,' he said quickly. 'It won't be long now.'