A/N: Thanks to an inspiring photoset on tumblr, this happened. I'm very excited for this. I've never done a spy story, but I have some pretty smart people in my corner that have helped me out a lot already, namely downtonluvr over on tumblr (luvsdamovies here on FF). Thanks so much for your help, dear! Anyways, enjoy this and please leave a review. I want to know if this is something you'd all be interested to see more of! On a separate note, the next chapter to Goodbye Is The Hardest Word To Say is in the works and should be up sometime later today.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or any of that. My posessions are limited to my cat, my vast collection books and DVDs, and my laptop.

Her heels clicked as she walked through the open floor-space, desks crammed in the big room, making it seem much smaller than it was— each desk manned by at least one person and files were piled sloppily on nearly every available surface. The rapid clacking of typewriters, the consistent ringing of telephones, and the stale cigarette smoke that hung thick in the air reminded Anna of a 1930's spy novel, and the thought made her smile, her lip curling at the irony.

At least they'd got that right.

A door stood open at the other end of the room, a row of empty hard-backed chairs lining the wall, and Anna made her way through the bustling crush of muttered words and murmured whispers, weaving in and out of the maze of desks. Taking a seat, Anna surveyed her surroundings to a greater degree. Green paint was tinted yellow with cigarette smoke, file cabinets were pushed against two of the walls and the windows were shut against the grey weather of the city, the blinds drawn tightly over them.

A smartly dressed young man leaned out of the doorway she'd noticed earlier, motioning for Anna to follow him into the office. Her silent companion nodded curtly as she entered the office, slipping out as the thump of the door shut out the continual buzz of the workers. A dark haired man sat perched in an armchair, his eyes flicking to her as she acknowledged him with a small smile. He didn't smile back.

Taking a seat on the cream couch, Anna smoothed her skirt before speaking, pausing to pick an imaginary piece of lint from her cardigan.

Casting her gaze about the larger office, Anna took a moment to observe the room. A coat rack stood in the corner, just behind the door, a secretary's desk was stuffed in the far corner, and a typewriter sat perched on the great oak desk that separated her from the man who had called her here.

"You've moved headquarters, I see. I can't say it's very appealing, Mr. Crawley."

Her employer stood from where he sat, snatching up a manila file folder as he rounded the desk. His grey hair was neatly combed and his eyes were kind as he regarded her.

"Of course you wouldn't think so, Miss Smith. It's an improvement from the last place. But we both know I didn't ask for you to come all the way back down to London to discuss interior decorating. Have you met Mr. Barrow yet? He's the director of international intelligence operations over at MI-5. He'll be working closely with you." Gesturing to the dark-haired man she'd noticed earlier, Mr. Crawley gave her a moment to introduce herself, leaning against the desk quietly.

"Anna Smith. Pleasure, I'm sure." Offering her hand to the man sitting to her side, she lowered it as Mr. Barrow sniffed derisively, his voice condescending.

"Oh, yes. Though I still can't help but wonder why they picked you," Barrow surveyed her, his eyes raking over her jeeringly, "What can you do in the field that others can't do? Except bat those pretty blue eyes, of course," he sneered.

Anna smiled widely, belying the flash of anger that had taken hold of her. "I assure you, I can do much more than that, Mr. Barrow," she replied crisply.

Mr. Crawley cleared his throat aggressively before interrupting, Thomas' eyes finally snapping back to the senior agent.

"Miss Smith is well-versed in many world language and a well-trained intelligence gather. We're lucky to have her. The fact is that most of our agents are abroad and we can't reach some of them in time," Robert looked at her, his gaze hopeful. "I know you left the field two years ago, but there's no one else, Anna. Please. You're the best we have," Robert pleaded.

"It's a matter of national security. If this blows up in our faces, trust me, it will do more than damage us. It could destroy us and I can't run the risk of sending a new agent out in the field."

Anna sighed, defeated. "There's no one else?"

"No, you're the best we've got and this is a delicate situation…" Robert sat next to her and sighed heavily.

"I know what happened with William Mason was difficult, but this is just you. No partners, no complications; just you. We wouldn't have called you if we thought we could do it without you," He implored, his voice soft and his eyes pleading.

"Just me? In and out, just like that?" Anna questioned, her voice firm as Robert nodded emphatically.

"Fine. On one condition."

"Name it."

"Leave this to me. I don't want you," Anna paused, glancing at Mr. Barrow, who smirked, "Breathing down my neck. I get out, I retire. This is my last mission," she said, her voice firm.

"Done. It will be a tough blow, losing you, but I understand. Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Smith. Now, let's go over what this entails…" Anna took the pro-offered file folder, flicking it open with a practiced ease, letting her eyes scan the report as Robert continued to brief her.

The trees of the German countryside whipped by at an alarming speed, the steady sway of the train lulling her into a peaceful state. The vanilla file was heavy in her hands and she let her fingers trail over the neat lines of typed ink as she read.

"Target: John Bates, perhaps working under an assumed name… Suspected to have defected to the Soviet cause. Task: Gather information on the target— if needed, eliminate threat. In December of 1953, information given to the intelligence bureau implicated John Bates in several meetings with high-authority Soviet leaders..."

Anna paused in her reading, her eyes lifting to the picture attached.

Kind eyes crinkled at the corners, and a smile lit up his face as he laughed with some unseen person, and his dark hair was slicked back elegantly as he lifted a drink to his lips. He seemed… peculiar, not someone one might suspect to be an operative for an intelligence bureau, but then again, she supposed, that was the point.

Tucking the file away in her briefcase as the compartment door slid open, she sat up slightly, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear.

"Miss Romanov," the elderly woman spoke, her German accent thick as she leaned into the compartment, her finely wrinkled face pinching as she smiled slightly, "Would you care for anything to drink?"

"No, thank you. I don't drink very much, I'm afraid." Anna declined, watching as the woman nodded quietly and slid the door shut behind her.

With that, Anna resumed her wondering about her target. Why would a man with all the potential in the world suddenly turn on the organisation he'd worked for for fifteen years? If he was proved to be a threat, it would be a pity to eliminate him, surely.

He was handsome after all.

Banishing the thought, she stared out of the train window, dreading what was to come.

A/N: Please don't be shy! Leave a review. As per usual, anonymous reviews are enabled. If it's horrible, tell me. If it's not, tell me! What do you all think?