AN: I blame Cat-Mum for this one.

"That's the last of it, Mrs Jones. I'm heading off now. Have a good Christmas."

She placed the report on the etched wood of her desk and looked up for a second. "Thank you Peter. I hope you saw the little something I picked up for you?"

Peter, her secretary, lifted a bag with a rueful smile. "It's appreciated as ever ma'am. You know you're very welcome to join me and missus if you wa-"

She shook her head. Politely, but firmly. "I won't intrude on your peace. Goodness knows you give us enough of your time throughout the year. Merry Christmas."

It was a pleasant seasonal goodbye, but also terribly final in the implied solitude. Mrs Jones did not have anyone to spend her Christmas with. At least, not any more. Things had gone badly wrong back then, and perhaps the less said...

Her eyes drifted down the report. Christmas was not a good time to think deeply on these things. If there ever was a good time to think on them, which she personally doubted. But it was the fact that her mind always turned in these directions that led her to spend each and every Christmas at her desk, finding some more essential paperwork that absolutely had to be completed before the following day. Even if it didn't, and even if everyone knew that nothing would happen.

Three years ago, she'd had an operation to oversee. She permitted herself a faint smile. It had almost been like the good days. Surrounded by competent people, stopping the world from burning, the tense atmosphere of an active operation keeping the blood pounding. And, of course, being surrounded by people. That helped. If they were the right people, or at least not so damn concerned about the fact that she was perfectly alright with being by herself, thank you very much.

She loosened her thoughtlessly tight grip on her pen and carefully placed that down alongside the paperwork she'd only managed to half-pretend to read.

Her feet led her out to the bathroom, and then further down the corridor to where the glass windows met the clear, cold sky outside. There wasn't snow. There was never any snow. Which meant that she could see all the way down the river, down to where the fireworks were just beginning.

The faint sound of Big Ben rang out. Eleven chimes. Then quarter past the hour, half past the hour. What had gone wrong? Fifteen years. Fifteen years since everyone she knew had gone in other directions. But she was in the right, and she knew she was in the right.

Zeljan had been a fanatic, Alan not much better. They'd worked together back then. Back in the days where Russia was the bad guy, and America was a trusted ally. When the worst thing you could imagine was a nuclear war, rather than biochemical weapons being unleashed by criminal masterminds. It was simple. There was right, there was wrong. And then there was wrong, and greater wrong. Two evils to choose between. She'd gone with Alex. Julia, with Winston. And Zeljan. And the rest of them. It wasn't any great secret now, she supposed, other than the fact that SCORPIA had been invented at all. Born of some of the greatest intelligence agents the agency had ever managed to fail to protect. Her mind was rambling again, she noted, as she eyed the heavens. No stars, not tonight, not in the centre of London. Just streetlights throwing themselves into the sky.

Alex hadn't helped her mind, the last few years. Child spy, then child soldier, then child assassin. Every time she tried to help, things just turned out a few more steps towards terrible. Things seemed rather close to how they ran things on the other side.

Julia could hardly be considered worse in some ways. Tulip had made ruthless decisions with a cold heart and stern face, albeit for the other side. It was expected from anyone that sat on the executive board. A bitter pragmatism underscored by just enough righteous belief that you could justify almost anything. And, of course, Julia had taken Alex under her wing just as Tulip had tried to do. They were, almost, as ever, reflections on each other.

When had the careful strategic game between them started? Europe as their playground. Sisters in arms. Lovers in bed. Tulip closed her eyes for a minute.

Her feet led her back towards her office, towards her reports. They could wait, but she couldn't. Not really. It wasn't until she sat down that she realised that the report was on their latest collaboration with SCORPIA. Their latest little dirty secret. The scandal that would "shock" the prime minister should they ever be confronted with proof of it in public. It would probably end their career.

She pulled out her pen and flicked through the pages, marking the changes that she felt necessary. It wasn't until the final page that she paused and returned to the beginning. Looked at the SCORPIA representative, examined the datasheet carefully, and picked up the phone.

"Rothman speaking."

"Hello Julia."

"Tulip?"

"I just wanted to-"

There was a moment. Before Mrs Jones sighed, and Tulip spoke to her own scandal of the past, "Merry Christmas Julia."

And, perhaps, there was just another moment more.