Bond shut the door to his new flat behind him. The place was practically empty. He'd hardly had the time or the energy to get his things out of storage. He'd never been the sentimental type and after the destruction of Skyfall and the loss of M, he felt even less inclined to make the new place feel like home than he normally would.

The funeral had been held the day before. He'd stayed back in the shadows. He was good at that. It was where he came from, after all. It was where he belonged. M understood that. She wouldn't have wanted him to make a fuss anyway. Mallory had given a great eulogy. Bond had to admit that Mallory was a good man. He was a worthy successor. He had taken a bullet for her, after all. Not that it had mattered in the end. Bond had failed her anyway. His efforts had been for nothing. Silva was no longer a threat but it had cost M's life.

She was just another in a long list of people he had failed to protect. No, more than that. She was the person who made him into what he was. She had groomed him to be her perfect agent. So much of who he was and what he fought for was wrapped up in her. To have that much identity violently ripped away from him left him freefalling.

He sank down into the sofa. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the events of the last few weeks. He was having little success.

"For God's sake, get ahold of yourself."

Bond's eyes snapped open.

He blinked. He blinked again. He couldn't have been seeing what he was seeing. He knew that. He didn't move, frozen in place.

"Oh, so you're going to ignore me, are you?"

Finally, Bond looked up. There, standing on the other side of the room, dressed as impeccably as always, was M. Her hands were folded in front of her and she was staring at him with her ever critical eye.

"You're not here," he whispered. He closed his eyes again.

"Aren't I?"

"I watched them bury you yesterday."

"And I wrote your obituary two months ago."

"It's different."

"How so?"

"I was there! I felt you go. I know it happened."

No arguments after that one. Bond chanced opening his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh. She was still there. Her lips were pursed in a thin line now and she was studying him intently. This was too much. He was tired, that was all. He had to make her go away and then he needed a long, uninterrupted night's sleep.

"Look, I'm not gonna sit here and argue with my own mind. I'm going to bed and when I wake up, you're gonna be gone."

He stood up from the sofa. He walked right passed her, refusing to spare her a glance.

When he had almost reached the bedroom, she spoke again.

"Quite right. I am dead, unfortunately. I'm not really here at all."

Bond stopped but didn't turn around. "So, why am I seeing you?"

"Well, I suppose because you still need me. Because you're not ready to let go."

He scoffed at that. "I've lost plenty of people that I still needed. Plenty I wasn't ready to let go of. What makes you think you're so bloody special?"

"Obviously you're the one who thinks I am, or I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"I'm going to bed," he started walking away from her again.

"Oh, go on then. If you think a good night's sleep is going to get rid of me, then by all means. We'll see in the morning."

He slammed the bedroom door behind him. He paused for a moment to make sure she wasn't going to appear again. No trace of her as he scanned the room. Without undressing, he crawled into bed and almost instantly fell asleep.