The first few seconds of freefall were terrifying to Ashleigh. She wanted to desperately to clutch at the rope that supported her, but knew to do so, from several, extremely graphic warnings, would lead to her hands being skinned at the best. At the worse, she could lose her hands full stop. The air rushed around her as she fell, putting all her trust into the simple climbing apparatus.

She fell for what seemed like forever, and in that time the fear left her. She felt her heart soar, her breathing slowed from its panicked gasps and adrenaline pumped steadily through her veins.

It was over all too soon. The clips locked off, jerking her to a stop just a metre above the ground. For a moment, she remained suspended there, almost turning in a complete circle before her hands fumbled for the release clip and she dropped to the ground, weapon in hand.

The blow to her neck was cushioned by the thick hood of her white parka, absorbing most of the impact that should have knocked her unconscious and instead merely stunned her. She fell to the floor, hitting knees first, and instinctively rolling over. The man above her seemed to block out all light, and she sensed rather than saw the gun in his hand. She threw herself backwards, almost into a somersault, rolling onto her upper back and shoulders before flinging herself forward, using the momentum to thrust her feet up and out in a vicious double footed kick. It caught the bastard full in the stomach, and winded, he fell, Ashleigh only just managing to roll out of the way. Her gun in her hand, acting as a cudgel, she hit out hard at his head, plunging him deep into brutal unconsciousness.

Her size was her best asset, she realised quickly. At 5'5 she was a good six inches smaller than the shortest of men in the room, and she could move quickly into open gaps. Gunshot tore through the building, and Ashleigh ducked as a so called bullet proof glass window shattered above her, unable to withhold the relentless assault anymore. She crouched, hands thrown over her head as shards of glass rained down upon her. She felt small pinprick flashes of heat and pain as they ripped into the bare skin of her hands, and unexposed parts of her face. Blood trickled slowly from a small gash in her forehead as she finally stood, brushing glass off her clothes.

Somehow, among the horror and violence around her, she saw James. His arms were around a petite woman, and he was dragging her towards a door. Confusion flooded through her, as she tried to place the woman and with a sudden jolt, recognition coursed through her. She knew. She knew the woman.

Red hot angry blinded her. Fury seemed to overtake every rational cell in her body and without understanding what was happening, she was tearing across the room, through the fighting, ducking blows and shrugging off grasping hands.

Jasmin.

Jasmin was alive.

*

Her body was slim and supple in his arms. He caught the scent of the heavy floral perfume that she wore and James's senses were almost overwhelmed. She writhed in his arms in a terrible mimic of their lovemaking, reminding him of her passion, of her naked vulnerability. Her hazel eyes met his, pleading and widening with fear. She gasped as his grip tightened. Relentlessly, he pulled her through the door, dragging her down a corridor, into another, until the sounds of the battle had subsided and they were left alone.

He almost threw her away from him, she stumbled but caught herself upright, leaning against a wall to steady herself. She was panting heavily. It caused her chest to rise invitingly beneath the tight black jacket and James, against his better judgement, found himself watching her breast as it swelled and rescinded. He couldn't help but recall the softness of her skin, and the gently rough texture of her hardened nipple beneath the palm of his hand. Exquisite torture, he thought, feeling sweat break out on his upper lip. He must control himself, he forced himself back to staring at her.

'James,' she gasped, her arm twitched as if she were about to lift a hand to him, but she seemed to think better of it.

'You're here,' he groaned, running a hand, still clutching his gun through his thick dark hair.

'Yes,' she whispered, and she seemed terrified.

'Le Loup?'

Her tongue darted out, wetting her pink lips before she spoke nervously. 'He's not here,' she confessed.

'Of course not. He wouldn't dare risk his own skin.'

She flushed at the insult to her boss, but he noticed that she didn't contradict him.

'I should kill you here and now,' he growled. 'Or at least hand you straight to M.'

The flush left her skin rapidly, she paled under her olive skin. 'Would you?' she finally managed to ask.

'I should,' he shook his head, unsure what she feared most. Death or those she had betrayed? 'Tell me one thing…'

'Anything!' she interrupted quickly, hope clear in her tone.

'Were you working for Le Loup before or after you started working for MI6?'

She couldn't meet his eyes, choosing to look away as she answered. 'Before,' it was said in barely a whisper.

It shouldn't have mattered, considering the scale of her betrayal, but for some reason it did. She had power over him. He had considered a future with her, even if only for a few fleeting hours, kisses, in the darkness of the night.

'James,' it was amazing how much she could say in just one word. It was amazing how little he could believe any of it. 'James, please…'

He laughed, and it was a brutally cold sound in the empty corridor. 'Don't beg, Jasmin. It's not your style.'

She tilted her head back. She had her pride, but she was defeated. She must realise that.

'What is it that you need? Protection? Immunity? Or just a clear path back to Le Loup?'

'I-I can't go back to him,' she stammered.

'But you will, won't you?'

'He's insane,' she spat. 'He's so caught up in this stupid, this stupid… revenge plot that he's forgotten everything else. He's never forgiven Alec Trevelyan for crossing him and now we've all been dragged down with him. He won't let me go, James. I know too much.'

'And if you cross him?'

'What the hell do you think?' she laughed at his stupidity. 'I'm nothing to him. Just a pretty face. I used to be useful, now he sends me out here in the hopes of getting rid of me.'

'So what now?' James asked, and she sensed his hesitation. Slowly, she closed the gap between them, so she was inches away.

'Help me,' she sighed, 'I'm not going to beg you James, but if you could find it in you… if I meant anything to you, help me. Help me to survive.'

'Meant anything?' he repeated in disbelief. 'You lied, Jasmin. You're a traitor. You really think that you meant anything to me?'

'Yes,' she breathed. Leaning up on tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his.

He resisted the urge to push her away. He didn't know whether to kiss her again or to kill her. He knew logically that he should be frogmarching her perfectly formed arse straight to M. Logic had disappeared the moment he had set eyes on her. Reaching up, he curled a strand of her hair around his fingers.

'Name your terms,' he said harshly.

'I can help,' she nodded frantically. 'I can tell you where he is, where Natasha Trevelyan is.' She turned her head, to kiss the palm of his hand.

'And in return?'

'Help me, help me get away from him. Help me to change my life. For the better,' demurely she dropped her eyes away from his, so all he could see was the length of her straight, neat nose, and the dark arch of her eyebrows.

'Jasmin…' he leant down, tilting his head under hers, kissing her mouth deeply. She responded instantly, her arms around his neck, pulling him close. She gasped with pleasure, and at the sound he realised what he was doing, and pushed her away.

'James?' Confusion, and fear, were clear in her eyes. She frowned, and he realised how good she was at manipulating.

'I'll do what I can,' he said roughly. 'If you tell me where to find them.'

For a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him again, as she stepped closer, leaning up towards him, but her mouth bypassed his, and instead found his ear. Her warm breath caressed and teased as she recited a string of six numbers, familiar in their organisation.

Co-ordinates.

She stood back, and he nodded once. The sullen look returned to her face. 'You have to help me now,' she said stubbornly.

'I said I'll try. I can't promise anything more than that,' James said warningly.

'Just remember,' she said in the same tone, 'that sometimes the opposite of what you think you know is true. Don't judge me too harshly, James. Not when you're so vulnerable right now.'

'That all depends on who you ask,' James said sarcastically. 'Right now, you're hardly in a position to discuss terms. Or vulnerability.'

Jasmin wasn't looking at him though. Her eyes had slipped over his shoulder, and she suddenly retreated back a few steps.

Behind him, James heard a door slam. He knew who would be there without even having to look. Yet still he did.

'Fraternising with the enemy, James?'

'Put the gun down, Ashleigh.'

'I don't think so,' Ashleigh stepped forward and James turned his own weapon on her. She scowled at the sight of her own godfather with a gun pointing right at her, but she said nothing. Simply carried on walking down the corridor, aiming at the couple in front of her.

'So you're alive?' Ashleigh spat.

'Yes,' Jasmin said simply.

'I knew it,' Ashleigh laughed darkly. 'It was too convenient, too well done.'

'You didn't think so at first,' Jasmin was defiant.

'Perhaps,' Ashleigh conceded, 'but the more I thought I about, the more I came to realise. I've been waiting for you, Jasmin. Waiting for you to crawl out of your hole once more. And now you have.'

'Don't be stupid, Ashleigh,' James sighed.

'Stupid?' Ashleigh turned her cool anger onto James. 'Despite everyone taking me for a fool, and I include you in that generalisation, I am not stupid.'

'Then put the weapon down. Jasmin is trying to help.'

'And you believe that?'

If he hadn't hesitated, Ashleigh would have believed him. 'Yes.'

'Move.' She gestured with her gun, a fluid sweeping movement to the left. When he refused to do so, she sighed impatiently. 'If I have to shoot through you, James, I will. Don't make me.'

She was waiting for him to argue back, to take the verbal tack, so she was surprised when he remained silent.

'Move, James! Damn it!'

James didn't move, but Jasmin did. Taking advantage of the two British agents bickering she started moving backwards, a small step at a time. At the last moment, Ashleigh realised, and threw herself forwards.

Only to be caught in James's arms. He held the smaller woman back, wrapping his arms around her as she struggled and strained, pulling against his strength.

'Let me go!' Ashleigh howled. 'You can't let her get away with this!'

She was writhing in his arms, trying frantically to break free. James closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Suddenly, she was gone, and he heard her footsteps pounding down the corridor after the other woman.

Later, much later, when James was asked, he would say that she broke free. That she had fought like a woman possessed and taken advantage of a weak spot just behind his previously damaged knee.

He wouldn't admit even to himself if he had let her go.

Let alone to M.