"The shooter was Henry Logan. He was second in command to the Assistant Director of the NCS." M looked over James with a careful eye, knowing even though the agent appeared as if his mind was somewhere else, he was still listening to every word she had to say. "A subsequent investigation into Logan's background and case work with Agent Norreys revealed Logan was failing to pass along information given to him by Norreys from the field, like he was supposed to do. There was never an official hit placed on President Zille. However, Logan wasn't nearly as disciplined in covering his tracks as you would believe."

"Mmm. So he set her up." Not a question, M noticed. But a statement.

"It seems so. However, we'll never know the full extent of Logan's betrayal of Agent Norreys. The CIA has decided to quit taking my phone calls regarding this case." James crossed his arms tightly across his chest, a subconscious move. Meant to make him feel protected, and keep the emotions he pushed back down inside where they belonged.

"Agent Norreys' rifle was the one Logan used to try to exterminate you. Before the friendly flow of information stopped, I learned the rifle was left behind in South America, after the assassination of President Zille. Standard protocol with Agent Norreys was to leave the rifle used during an order in the country where said order was executed, only to be picked up later by another CIA agent, and returned to her. It made escaping the country much easier." James nodded absently. "Surveillance at the train station where Ms. Norreys left her rifle in a storage locker showed Agent Logan retrieving the gun hours after Zille's assassination. That was not Agent Logan's job."

"So, he had this ending planed all along?"

"More than likely. Maybe he knew you and Agent Norreys would be able to escape every trap laid out. Maybe, he just wanted to keep the evidence for himself. Who knows. It's not as if we can ask him, now is it?" She didn't mean the last sentence to be snarky, or sound as if she was annoyed. It was just a simple statement. It was merely a thought that escaped her lips.

"Well, I could have asked him during our little meet, but he seemed interested in other things."

"I'm sorry about Ms. Norreys." M was sincere. She saw the look in his eyes when he repeated his accounts to her. The pain he felt was very real. As was her sincerity.

"Yeah." James said quietly, shifting his gaze downward.

"However, the fact her body was not recovered at the scene seemed to upset our friends across the pond enough to chose silence to my requests for answers."

"I wasn't going to leave her there." he hissed, his flash of anger unsettling her slightly. "They haven't completely exonerated her, have they?"

"Not until the conclusion of the investigation. Which, as I said before, will never be known to us."

"That's why I wasn't leaving her for them. Is there anything else?" M stared hard at him for a few moments before slowly shaking her head.

"No. But I suggest you take some time. Calm down a little before sending you on your next mission." He didn't argue, much to her surprise. He nodded once and turned on his heel, his strides long, his body ridged as he exited her office, allowing the door to shut quietly behind him.

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He laid on the hotel bed, his weight sinking comfortably into the soft mattress. He tossed the cell phone in the air, throwing it from one hand to the other. The room was quiet. The only sound was the blast of air as it streamed from the heater. He was tired, but didn't dare to sleep. He was hungry, but chose to stay where he was, resting his body and soul, and waiting. Patiently waiting.

Two months. He told M he wanted to be off for two months. No phone calls. No emails. No contacts. Nothing from MI6 for two months. She agreed, much too quickly, he thought, but was pleased, nonetheless.

The cell phone began to vibrate in his hand before the small chime of the ringer reached his ears. He checked the caller ID and smiled. The calling code told him the call was originating from the United Arab Emirates. She was right on time.

"I've been waiting for this call all day." Andra smiled at the sound of his voice on the other end. She ran a hand through her newly darkened hair, her muscle memory slow to catch up with the fact the long locks were no longer there, replaced with a fashionable bob.

"You have?" Hearing the smile in her voice spread his grin wider.

"I have. How are you feeling?" James asked, concerned with the bullet wounds she had suffered to her right thigh and the shot to her chest, which would have been fatal if Logan had only sent the bullet two centimeters to his right.

"I've had better days. The drugs are nice, though." James chuckled and switched the phone over to his left ear.

"So, Dubai?"

"Mmm, hmm. I still have plenty of friends within the Middle Eastern governments who are more than happy to take care of me. I'm set for life." James smiled and nodded, even though she couldn't see him.

"So, are you well enough for visitors?" He finally asked, his tone suggestive.

"I could be convinced in receiving visitors." she quipped back.

"I have two months off. I need time to grieve."

"Grieve, hmm?" she asked, chuckling. "I'm very disappointed you believe you can get over my death in two short months."

"Well, we'll just see how smooth the grieving process goes. And maybe I could convince another month out of my boss." The wide grin grew impossibly wider. Andra shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the smile never leaving her face.

"I'll see you when you get here."

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Okay, this is it folks. I thought I'd never be able to finish it. Lemmie know what you thought. It means a lot to me. Thanks to those who have stuck by me the whole time, especially Linwe Elendil and ChrisVIII.