Welcome to my new story! Just a few disclaimers before we begin:

1) Don't own the lovely 007. Own the storyline, subbed in fanfic characters because I have too much free time, but, sadly, several of the characters aren't mine, including the main ones. So sad.

2) This is slash… so if you don't like guys with guys, please go elsewhere instead of flaming about it

Having addressed all of that, please proceed 

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Amherst Villiers had long since given up any pretext of working; M had called him into the office at three in the morning, and it was now ten. While sunlight had slowly advanced across the mostly empty office through the wide window behind him, he'd been pouring over reports and typing up handwritten notes and making appointments, but after seven hours before it had even turned noon, he'd lost a good deal of his determination. He was slowly spinning in his office chair, wondering when M would holler-

"Get him on the phone i-mme-diately!" And there it was. Him, of course, was James Bond. That went without saying- the seething anger carried in just that one word made it clear, seeing as no one else could infuriate her to such an extreme degree. While M watched, arms crossed over her chest, Amherst dialed Bond's cell phone, wishing he'd taken Jenny up on her bet that Bond's credit cards and passports were about to get revoked again. The screen came up on the opposite wall, something Amherst had always found fascinating. Amherst put the phone on speakerphone, and the ringing tone filled the office. Then the phone was picked up, and they heard the faint din of people in the background. On the screen, a world map flashed up.

"Yes?" Somehow, Bond managed to make the single word ring with irritation.

"Bond, where the hell are you?" M snapped, watching the screen. On the map that was reflected onto it before him, a red dot appeared, showing Bond to be Rome, for reasons unknown. He certainly hadn't been sent there. Amherst hid a grin behind his hand, for fear of M seeing him. I think we'd die of shock if he was actually where he'd been sent and doing what he'd been told.

"Rome. Spanish steps. I believe it's on the screen before you, if you wish to confirm this."

"The reason I'm calling, as I'm sure you're aware, is because you're not supposed to be there, Bond!"

"While it is true that I'm meant to be in Paris, I wouldn't say I'm restricted from Rome." His tone was metered with a patience that was most definitely false, "Technically."

"Bond, I want you where I sent you! That is why I sent you! If I wanted you to go gallivanting around Europe, I would have handed you an assignment file that said such an atrocity!"

Amherst tuned out for most of their conversation, just listening to the voices, and trying to decide just how much he'd raise the bet with Jenny after this terse conversation that consisted, basically, of M demanding that Bond get back on the damn schedule before she murdered him, Bond insisting he'd found a better lead to follow, M grudgingly accepting this and then demanding that he be at the event he'd found, Bond saying he would, M ensuring he would by enforcing it with a list of threats, at the top of which was the withdrawal of his credit cards and passports. Quite predictably.

James Bond, meanwhile, was casually weaving around tourists on the Spanish steps, only half listening to M's instructions. He could almost see M's exasperated look when he told her he was out traveling around Europe without telling her exactly what he was doing.

"Bond, you'd find it very hard to get around without a passport" M 's warning made Bond sigh softly, as he stopped at the top of the steps to sink back into the shadow cast by the wall around the smaller staircase.

"I'll be at the sponsor event tonight." Bond promised, running a hand through his blonde hair absent-mindedly, trying not to appear worried and conspicuous. Before him, people were milling about the steps; a few children were running up and down, teenagers were talking, a man was selling whistles that made a noise like a duck's call, a young couple was sitting together, a weathered business man was howling into his phone in wrathful Italian.

"Do try not to kill any of the main leads" M said dryly, "it's rather inconvenient." And then he heard a laugh he recognized, that told him M wasn't the only one in the room.

"And exactly what is so amusing about that?" he shot at Villiers. He could perfectly envision the smile of M's aide, and the supposed haughty amusement infuriated him.

"Bond, don't get distracted." M demanded. "Please just get to the event in one piece."

Bond snapped the phone shut, but it was too late. His focus was slipping away from him again, which thoroughly aggravated him, which, in turn, made him lose more focus.

The cycle was so brutal by that the time he'd charmed his way into the attention of a main lead, he was badly, if unnoticeably, out of tune with the plan. The woman was saying something, and he trained his gaze on her face. Luminous green eyes were alight with tease.

"Perhaps we could find somewhere else?" Her Italian accent had her R's rolling and words flowing, but it was all lost on James. She could have been speaking Icelandic, for all he noticed, and it was only by a miracle that he was comprehending her meaning.

"Yes" he agreed instantly, if somewhat emotionlessly, giving no response as her hand was slipped around his arm, "somewhere more… private."

In a hotel room twenty-four floors above the sponsor event, James watched Cammilla sweep across the room, shawl sliding from her shoulders as she opened the door to the bedroom.

"Coming?" the shawl pooled on the floor, and she beckoned for him to follow. James slipped into the dimly lit bedroom, Cammilla already pushing off his jacket and starting on the buttons of his shirt with a dancing touch. "Must ask, darling" she murmured, fingers flighty, "because there's a little requirement."

"What might that be?" He was prepared for anything, as there wasn't much he had yet to encounter. She tossed her mane of nearly-black hair over her shoulder, turning green eyes to his face, as suspiciously playful smile appeared on her lips. "I believe I can fulfill a great many requirements."

"Mmmm perhaps" a quick kiss dropped to his lips. "Ever slept with another man?" she whispered in his ear. James's chest tightened, the concept of breathing completely forgotten. His hands ceased to move, and she noticed this with a pronounced pout.

"I have not." He felt her exhaled breath of disappointment, although the emphasis made it more like unabashed scorn. And before he could truly grasp what had happened, the door had clicked shut and he was alone in the room.

Within the hour, he'd found another lead, and it didn't take more than an hour more before he was back on the streets of Rome, calling M to report that he had yet to eliminate a lead and had obtained information as well.

"I'm impressed" She said sarcastically when he informed her of this fact, "but what happened to the first lead? She was of a much higher status than the other within the organization. I'd find it a great inconvenience if you killed her."

"That did not… work out as planned." Bond was back to roaming around the Spanish steps, as they were merely around the corner from the hotel where the event had taken place, and the people around served to drown out his conversation amidst the noise, even this late at night.

"What happened?" The crisp snap to her words informed him, quite obviously, of her disapproval.

"She had certain… terms that had to be met which I was not… qualified for." James wandered down a side street, past darkened shop windows and the odd streetlight.

"Such as?" M persisted. James scowled, wanting nothing more than to snap the phone shut and fling it into the path of a truck.

"It was merely a ridiculous requirement" His hold on the phone tightened, jaw clenched. "Absolutely insignificant."

"Bond." Nothing more had to be said. He was going to be forced to say it, so he grit his teeth and hoped that no one else would find out about it.

"She is only interested in someone who has slept with another man before" James finally spat out, struggling to keep his voice neutral. "And I made the mistake of telling her how I haven't." And then he heard laughter in the background: Villiers, snickering.

"Bond-" M started, but he'd snapped the phone closed before she could complete the sentence.

*

The man was running across the bridge that arched over the main canal, sliding in and out of shadows. James dashed up the steps after him, gun slick in his hand, darting back and forth so as to avoid the shots fired at random. Their running footsteps were the only sounds echoing around the stone buildings, up to the darkened sky above to become lost in the threatening storm clouds. James nearly missed seeing the man duck through an alleyway, and rounded the corner after him. Should have looked at a map, he thought furiously, and learned where the hell all these bloody alleyways lead. Even his thoughts were petulant. He'd sulked his way through the last phone calls to M and cut out of the evening party early to tail this aggravatingly fast lead. The man was climbing over the side of the bridge, to a waiting speedboat. James leapt over the side, and, one hand clinging to the railing of the bridge, raised his gun to shoot. The man glanced back once, and in the dim glow of the streetlight, nearly-black eyes somehow appeared… almost amber.

James faltered.

The man then fired off a shot. James had already loosened his hold, tumbling down further, missing the bullet. He shot, and fell. He didn't have the good fortune to be directly above the canal, and fell to the concrete step leading into the water, his left wrist smashing directly onto the edge of the concrete as he fell into the water. The knowledge that he'd hit his target, however, was enough to distract him from the pain. The boat remained motionless on the water, assuring him that he'd not missed his mark. Bond pulled himself out of the water, wincing when he put strain on his wrist. The water was shiver-inducing cold, making his once-nice suit cling to him, enveloping him in cold. As he started away, he heard a soft buzzing noise. His phone, vibrating, up on the bridge where it must have fallen. Bond crossed back over the bridge and answered it.

"Yes?"

"That new lead…" M began, but, noticing his silence, sighed. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"It was necessary."

"I'm sure."

"Any particular reason this time?"

"Necessity."

"I'm sure." She said again, heavier doubt to her tone. Bond looked out across the water, where the gentle waves from the ocean lapped against the stone, soaking up a reflection of the moon overhead.

"My apologies."

……………………..

Review, please!

Love, Wild-Sunshine