Gabriel hadn't wanted her to bring her cell phone. He said she was too addicted to it and they needed time together, alone, just the two of them.

Eve wasn't having any of that.

"I'm a mum," she insisted stubbornly. "I have to have my phone. In case my daughter needs me. I'll only check it every couple of hours."

The room they were staying in was lovely. Fireplace. Big windows. Big bed.

He said all the right things. He was funny, charming, sweet, complimentary. It was all perfect...

But for some reason, Eve found herself getting really drunk. She usually had two drinks and was done. But she kept drinking...and drinking...and drinking...

The drunker she got, the better Gabriel seemed.

Forget Bond, her mind whispered. This guy is great. He has a normal job. He thinks you're the hottest thing that's ever walked the earth. He's not bad looking himself. So he doesn't make your legs feel like putty, but where has that ever gotten you?

She was so drunk that the night seemed like a blur. The next thing she knew Gabriel was snoring next to her on those gorgeous 350 count sheets.

She was restless. She grabbed her phone and wandered into the huge bathroom, dialing Q's number.

"Moneypenny?"

"Hey!" she giggled as she admired herself in the mirror. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. I thought you were having your romantic weekend?"

"Yes, yes. He's asleep now, though. I wore him out."

"Er...wonderful. Are you drunk?"

"What?" she asked, twirling around as she watched herself in the mirror.

"I repeat- are you drunk?"

She huffed. "NO."

"Yes, you are. You need to go to bed and sleep it off."

"Yes, Mum. Actually, I am looking really hot tonight-,"

"And very humble, too," he remarked dryly.

"Shut up. I'm thinking I'm going to send a picture to Bond-,"

"Er, Moneypenny-,"

"So he can see how good I look-,"

"Really not a good idea-,"

"And see what he is missing-,"

"Hello?! You're in a hotel room with another man. Really not the time to be thinking about Bond and making him jealous. You ABSOLUTELY need to go to bed. You're going to wake up with one vicious hangover in the morning."

She groaned. "You are such a killjoy."

"Stay away from your phone and go to bed. Now. Quartermaster's orders."

She hung up and ran a hand through her hair. "Maybe he's right," she murmured aloud. "I probably should go to bed."

But she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, her mind continually running back to James. And even when she slept, she dreamed of piercing blue eyes.

Like Q predicted, she woke up with the world's worst headache. She slapped on a pair of sunglasses and choked down some medicine, praying that the pain would be over soon.

Gabriel seemed almost irrationally angry that she was so sick. "You shouldn't have drank so much," he lectured as she cradled her head in her hands.

"Yes, I realize that now," she bit out. "But as you can see, it's a little late."

"Some weekend this is!" he threw up his hands. "Last night was great and today is completely shot because you decided to act like a twit and get wasted last night."

She pursed her lips. "I didn't decide to be hung over all day today, you know. It wasn't like I planned to ruin your weekend."

"I don't understand you, Eve. You say you want to get away and have some time alone. But as soon as we get alone, you get so drunk that you can barely stand. It's like you're never WITH me. You're always a million miles away, even when you are right next to me."

He was yelling and she was pissed. She knew he was at least a little bit right, but she couldn't say that. She didn't understand it herself. Why couldn't she relax? Why didn't she want to get closer to him?

Why couldn't she stop thinking about James?

They fought for an hour. She ended up grabbing her bag and storming out, taking a taxi all the way back to James' flat.

She was still fuming over the complete collapse of her current relationship when she opened the door and walked into James' flat.

Oddly enough, he kept his door unlocked often. License to kill apparently didn't also come with paranoia.

She went barreling into the kitchen when she collided into James- a delicious looking James. His tie was loose around his neck, his jeans were tight enough to be interesting, and his hand was holding a gun. It was like every moist dream she had ever had.

Her head began pounding like a drum. Stop looking at him, she ordered herself. He's the ex. You can't drool over your ex.

He quickly tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants.

"Thank you for not killing me," she said dryly, trying to shake herself out of her thoughts.

"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. Christina and I were taking a nap."

She reached up and fingered the loose tie around his neck. "I see that."

His brow furrowed. "What happened, Eve?"

"We broke up," she said shortly. "Once she finishes her nap, I can take her home."

"Just stay here." his eyes were drilling into her and all she wanted to do was collapse into his arms and take a nap too. "You look exhausted."

"I had about ten times too much tequila last night," she admitted. "My head is either going to explode or I'm going to vomit. I don't want to take the chance of doing that on your nice white carpet, so I need to take Christina and go back home."

"No."

Eve's patience had run out. "What do you mean, no?"

"No. You can lay down here for a while and I'll drive you home later. You're in no condition to go running around London with my daughter."

"YOUR daughter?! She's my daughter, too! I had her! Twelve hours of labor, no epidural-,"

He was too quick. He had her picked up before she could protest, his strong arms cradling her close to him. "Shut up, Eve."

She knew she could wiggle away- well possibly wiggle away, anyway- but she was too tired. Too sick. Too confused.

She just let him carry her into the bedroom.