Colin was right when he told me that time travel is just like being squeezed through the eye of a needle. My body was already terrible sore when we left from the strenuous exercise I am not used to, but when I wake up in the past, my whole body is a throbbing mess. On top of that, I am nauseous, ready to barf right in front of Rykar's feet. Not that I would actually mind the latter – it might wipe that smug lofty smile of her face.

"Not feeling well, Mr. Bond," she mocks. "You're such a wuss."

I frown at her. "You've done this about a hundred times before. Cut me some slack here."

Her smile turns patronising. "We're on a tight schedule, Mr. Bond. Put on your big boy pants and let's go."

I slowly stand up, but when I take a step forward, dizziness overcomes me and I have to hold on to her arm for balance. She stares at me with impatience as I shake my head to get rid of the fuzziness.

"You really are a total wimp." She tears her arm free and storms off.

I follow right behind her but can't get myself to divert my eyes from her ass. By God, she is hot, even though she is a total bitch. I wonder if the good outweighs the bad in bed.

When I step outside the warehouse where we arrived, I fill my lungs for the first time in my life with fresh oxygen. It is epic. We landed somewhere in the summer and the sun is high up in the sky but doesn't burn my skin at all as it does in our time. A light breeze brushes over my face and I tilt my head back with my eyes closed, my face pointed towards the sky. The more I fill my lungs with oxygen, the more I feel free – it is the best experience yet.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" she says.

"Yes." I glance at her. "How do you ever go back?"

She sighs. "It's just something you'll get used to. You can't stay or they'll come after you because you could seriously alter history. The risk it too high. Colin is a top marksman and if you miss your return jump, you'll get a return bullet straight into the head."

I arch a brow. "I thought Colin is your friend. He surely wouldn't kill you."

Her smile is mild. "You don't have friends in our line of business, Mr. Bond. Everyone you know could turn into your enemy one day, and those who don't, die. That's just a fact of life I'll suggest you accept." She sure has a rosy outlook.

I can't think about it much longer when she takes off up the street. New impressions pelt down on me as my eyes dart from left to right and back, soaking up unimaginable things. There are cars and people on bikes the way it was described in the history books, green grass and dogs walking on leashes. It is absolutely astonishing.

"Close your mouth, Mr. Bond," Rykar scolds. "You look like a retard."

I don't pay attention to her, halting in my tracks when an amazing whiff teases my nostrils. My mouth waters automatically to a point where I am drooling.

"Is that what I think it is?" I ask her.

She crooks her head. "Dunno. What do you think that is, Mr. Bond?"

"Hot dogs." I truly arrived in heaven. "Can I have one?"

Her lips actually curl into a smile when she gazes into my eager eyes. "Sure. I guess a couple of minutes break won't harm the mission."

The hot dog stand has any topic imaginable I had once read about and when I take my first bite, I am blown away. This is better than sex. Well, maybe not completely but it sure could compete. I definitely was born in the wrong century.

I devour three of them little things before Rykar insists on moving on.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"To meet a friend at a bar."

I frown at her. "I thought you said you didn't have any friends."

Her eyes glow rather sarcastically. "I'm not known to follow my own advice, Mr. Bond. Now stop asking questions. You're getting on my last nerve."

I wave her off, not wanting her to spoil my good mood. Our trip in the past is only supposed to last twenty-four hours and I will make the most of it.

She hails down a cab like a pro and for the first time, I admire the ease in which she knows her way around. She fits in and no one even gives her a second glance while I feel I stick out like a sore thumb with my gawking.

We end up in a pretty rough neighborhood right outside a biker bar. When we enter, everyone turns and stares at us with their mouths hanging open. We totally don't fit in which is contrary to rule number one of time travel – don't draw attention to yourself.

Rykar seems oblivious to her entrance and strolls over to the juke box in the corner, downing a quarter. I look over her shoulder as she makes the selection – 'Open Your Eyes' by Guano Apes.

"This one is for you, Mr. Bond."

I almost clutch my hands over my ears when the music begins to play – it's just as bad as the Dishonours. Even though I try, I can't make out a word.

She strolls over to the bar and slides on a bar stool. "Two beers, please." Two frosty bottles are placed in front of her and she pushes one in my direction. "Drink up, Mr. Bond. You'll need it."

I take a mouth full and let the liquid roll in my mouth before swallowing it. The flavor is disgusting. If this is how alcohol is supposed to taste, I am thoroughly disappointed.

Rykar doesn't seem to mind and downs half her bottle in one go, wiping the foam of her mouth with her sleeve. "Isn't beer the best, Mr. Bond?"

"It's not really my thing." I admit after trying another sip.

"Of course it is not," a voice comes from behind me. "The boy has class."

I spin around and find my own eyes, the same face and body structure. He is a little slimmer around the waist, but not noticeably – for someone other than my mother, he is my spitting imagine.

"Vodka martini, shaken, not stirred," he addresses the bartender. A glance at me. "Actually, make that two." With one swift move, he pulls Rykar off her stool and into his arms, their lips only inches apart. "Did you have a good trip, babe?"

She brushes a kiss on his mouth. "It was fine, James, but I don't think Mr. Bond here enjoyed it too much."

He grins at me. "Well, then it's good that he isn't going back."

My gaze is frozen on him, my mind scrambling to come to terms with the situation.

"Who are you?" I ask him though I have a pretty good idea.

"Bond. James Bond." He beams at me at the same time my brows knot together. "But you might know me better as 007."

I almost knock the martini glasses off the bar when I jump back. "You're the famous 007?"

He grabs his drink and takes a good swig, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "No, Mr. Bond, technically, you are. You see, you and I, we'll switch places today. I'll go back to the future and you'll stay here, fighting evil. I'm sure you'll enjoy that, at least for a while." His fingers play with Rykar's hair. "Trust me, you'll love the past. You'll have plenty of woman, action, and all those things you missed all your life. It will be grand."

"And if I don't want to?" I try to suppress the tremble in my voice, finding the whole idea utterly intriguing.

He clicks his tongue. "Then I unfortunately will have to kill you."

"That would change history," I point out.

His gaze is even. "Do you truly think I'll give a damn? We've been planning this for a decade, ever since we met the first time and fell in love. It will happen, Mr. Bond, with or without your cooperation."

It dawns on me that this is the big setup. "And the mission?"

"That's already taken care off." He pulls out an envelope from his pocket. "Your task was to kill Spectre, but I already neutralized him. All you have to do is fly back to London tomorrow and M will welcome you as his hero. Your plane ticket, passport and money is right in the envelope, together with some tips and tricks on how to be more like me." He smirks. "It really isn't that difficult. Chase every skirt, trash all of Q's cars and other gadgets, drink plenty of vodka martinis and no one will ever know. You'll get the hang of it eventually."

I turn to the bar and take a large mouthful of vodka martini to calm my vibrating nerves. It actually does taste pretty good – I could get used to this. When I spin around, their lips are glued together and he is groping her. Those two should get a room.

"I told you, babe, I was made to love you," he mumbles before sticking his tongue back down her throat. I glance around to give them some privacy and notice that almost everyone in the bar is making out – that's why they must have chosen this particular venue. They blend totally in.

A pretty black girl is approaching me like a cat in heat. "Hey, gorgeous." My last reservations are forgotten when I pat the barstool next to me. "Would you like to sit down?" I ask in my best British accent.

007 snorts beside me. "He truly is a natural."

"Yeah." She winks at me before cuddling into his chest. "Now all we have to do is get rid of Patrick and we can live the life we always dreamed off."

Damn, Patrick – her boyfriend. I totally forgot about him. "I don't think Patrick is going to take this too well." Now it makes sense why he didn't want her to go – he probably knew she could run into 007 if we went after Spectre and might even have suspected that they hooked up before.

"Don't worry." That sadistic smile is back on her lips. "Patrick will be dead by morning and since James here will be the hero for killing one of the greatest Bond villains, he will take his place as Global Security Advisor."

I sip the vodka martini, watching her over the rim of my glass. "Respect, SO Director. You thought of everything."

She snickers. "You can call me Rykar. I'll see you around, 007."

With her arm wrapped around my famous ancestors, she leaves the bar and I return all my attention back to the girl. "What's your name, sugar. Mine is Bond. James Bond."

Come to think of it, this might be fate. Maybe I was the one who did all those great things and gotten our family name into the history books. Yeah, that's most likely. That guy who left with Rykar couldn't have pulled that off.

By the time I leave the bar with the girl, my old life is practically forgotten. I am 007 – the greatest spy in the history of mankind and I would make sure I'd live up to the reputation.