Work Text:
The ropes scraped his wrists, neither tightening nor loosening despite his efforts. He threw a glance at the chronometer.
2:43 minutes left.
He once again looked around, hoping to find something sharp, but knowing he would find nothing. For once, the terrorists had been efficient, not leaving anything that his Majesty’s agent could use.
2:31
He wondered where he was. The air was humid and warm, too warm, but that was probably due to the stress caused by the bomb about to explode.
2:24
Last thing he remembered, he was investigating a warehouse in Australia. James was doing the same in a second one, both owned by a very rich woman with a taste for the ticking, expensive and exploding.
2:13
A sharp blow and who knew how many hours later, he’d woken up to find himself tied to a wall, sharing a room with a small, but very dangerous bomb. No gloating terrorists and no James either, which probably was a good thing.
1:59
For god’s sake, where was James? He’d thought he’d heard gunshots far away. But then, nothing more. He pulled again at the ropes and cursed.
1:46
He swore if he blew up because James had to flirt with the crazy, yet still attractive rich woman, he’d come back from the grave to haunt his best friend.
1:31
“Really, 006, this is becoming a habit.” He quickly glanced up, and was relieved to see James.
“Just shut up, and untie me,” he said. “That bomb is about to explode.
0:01
They ran out of the building, until the pressure from the explosion pushed them to the ground.
He got up, with James’ help. Sharp pain came from his left ankle when he put weight on it. James guided him to an old, beat up car.
“Where’s the BMW?” he asked.
“At the bottom of the Mediterranean sea.” James grinned. “Old habits die hard, but I’m sure Q expects it by now.”
