Woodvale

"Looks like the Universe has other plans for you now."

Clara told her softly, understanding that nothing about this was going to be easy. It was all very much outside of what she was used to, but that's what being alive meant. Change. It wasn't always pretty or easy but it was.

"How do I start to become me?"

At the station, after parking in the garage, he rounded the vehicle to open her door.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and his eyes sparkled with boyish mischief. Hitching his trousers he settled neatly into the seat on the opposite side of her desk.

"I think I'm quite proud of that."

He settled his forearms against the arms of the chair, hands flexing lightly before he continued.

"Congratulations on your new post. You've certainly got your work cut out for you." He arched a brow. "Which brings me to why I'm here."

It wasn't his usual job, internal affairs were usually handled by MI5, not MI6, he hasn't done much internal work since his days with the Navy.

"Ah yes, why you're here." She arched an eyebrow. "This feels a little bit below your paygrade, Mr Bond."

Foreign issues. That was one way to put it.

"Yes, I think it's in your eyes."

She laughed to herself before standing.

"Safe with you? You look a little dangerous if you ask me." She smirked.

It was food for thought. They had little to go on for now. Camera footage from the various buildings in the area were already being pulled. But again, these things took time to do. People often chose not to cooperate in police matters.

Usually, she'd offer the other occupant of the room one, but there was no point given that he was going to be driving them to the station.

He eyed her for a moment, almost sympathetically. He could tell they had slept together. He didn't even need to listen to the rumors around Number 10. It was common knowledge that she... Well, that was for another day, wasn't it?

If that ID wasn't found, they were in shit. The chances of that being replicated with another name and photo, of someone gaining access to number 10 if they had that ID, they were way too strong.

He bent to brush a kiss to the top of her head, smiling softly.

"Thanks Malcolm, it means a lot." She didn't want to admit how much it meant to her, how much she had needed to hear that she was doing a good job, because she was, and she knew it, but hearing it from him? That meant so much.

"Thank you. I'm DCI Daniel Hegarty. We'll be in communication throughout the entirety of the investigation. I'll keep you up to date on anything we find that's worth mentioning. With it being as early as it is, investigation-wise, we aren't sure yet if this was a random mugging and killing or if the poor woman was targeted. I have my unit working on any possible leads as we speak."

Daniel's head tilted as he reached out to hand her a card. His name, badge number, and mobile number were written on it. He took note of the tumbler of whisky as well, nodding to the glass.

"I appreciate being kept in the loop, especially given that this could be a matter of national security."

She took a sip of her whiskey.

“I'm restless and harsh and despairing. Although I do have love inside me, I just don't know how to use it. Sometimes it tears at my flesh, like barbs.”

One rainy afternoon, DCI Daniel Hegarty was brought to Number 10 on Claudia Mayhew's request, heading inside with no less than ten other officers. Heading upstairs, he was led to the PM's private flat. He knocked at the door before entering, and then he waited for her.

Early in the morning, one of her aids had been murdered. They found the woman lying dead in the street. Everything was escalated to a matter of national security once they learned who she was. Claudia, in her infinite wisdom, had sent him out to the scene with his unit.

She heard the door opening from her position in the kitchen, where she was pouring herself a whiskey. Fuck it, she was taking the day off. She deserved the day off with everything going on.

James watched her for a moment, his head ever so slightly cocked and his impossibly bright eyes tracking her movements. She was tired, that much was clear. But what was also interesting was that she seemed to know exactly who he was. For better or worse, he wondered.

"You know of me then."

At her offer he moved forward, reaching out a hand toward her in greeting. His free hand he unfasted the button of his suit jacket preparing to take a seat.

"No. The thing about being who you are now is finding out who you are. And you can't do that chasing his attention. Be you, find out what you're good at, what you like doing, and the he'll come to you. Live your life and stop chasing him."

She sighed. She hated feeling out of place, hated feeling like she didn't belong on the ship that was literally part of her.