Chapter Text
M sipped from her cup of tea, letting no expression come to her face. Across from her, Tanner shifted uneasily. Boothroyd was more comfortable, sitting with one leg crossed over the other drinking his own tea. M allowed the silence to drag on until finally, she set her tea down, leaned back in her chair, and opened up her desk drawer. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured a generous helping into her cup, then did the same to Boothroyd's cup when he held it out invitingly. Tanner made choking sounds as M added a smaller dollop to his cup, then put the whiskey away.
"Seven bloody weeks and not a hide nor hair from either of them," M spat, grabbing her cup and taking a healthy swig. The whiskey burned across her tongue, but it did little to lift her spirits.
Almost seven weeks ago to the day, James Bond and Q had gone off the map. As soon as MI6 had realized what was going on, they had responded accordingly - but it was too late. Bond was a master at disappearing when he didn't want to be found, and Q's deft touch with technology really was unparallel in many ways. Boothroyd and Tanner had put the best that MI6 had to offer on the search, but none of them had been able to turn up anything. It was frankly embarrassing, not to mention infuriating. When she saw Bond again, she was going to wring his neck!
Tanner glanced between her and Boothroyd before clearing his throat. "I did attempt to reach out to 006," he said.
M's scowl deepened. "Let me guess. He was unavailable to answer your call," she said, resigned. If there was one person that Bond would trust at MI6, it was Alec Trevelyan. There was a reason why M usually tried to make sure that the two of them were never in London at the same time: they were complete menaces when they were together. Yet, that hadn't stopped the two 00-agents from forming a deep, seemingly unbreakable bond. There was no doubt in her mind that Trevelyan was aware of where Bond was right now. And where Bond was, Q had to be there too.
"I did get the chance to talk to him for a moment, but he was rather unhelpful," Tanner admitted.
"What did he say?" M asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.
"He laughed. A lot," Tanner said, sighing.
Boothroyd chuckled. "You'll never break 006. That's a path you don't even want to try going down," he told M, and the worst part of it all was that he was right. She couldn't even threaten Trevelyan with treason or being fired, because Trevelyan's loyalty had always run more towards Bond than to MI6 itself.
"So then what do you recommend?" M said tightly.
"Let them come home on their own time," Boothroyd said, gently swirling his cup of tea. "You know that Bond will find his way back. He always does. And I suspect that this time, he'll bring Q with him."
M set her jaw. "And if we have need of them in the meantime?"
"If we did, I'm sure they would come," Boothroyd said. "Tanner, would you excuse us?"
"Certainly," Tanner said, a little too quickly. He got to his feet and practically fled.
"Well, go ahead. You've been dying to say something and now's your chance," M said as soon as the door had swung shut. Unlike most MI6 employees and agents, Boothroyd had been here as long as M had and had never hesitated to speak his mind. She braced herself as Boothroyd gave her a frank look.
"Have you considered that you pushed too far this time?" he asked.
"No," M lied.
Boothroyd didn't believe that for a moment. He shook his head. "You know that Bond would do anything for you, but you really out-did yourself this time with your manipulations. You purposely set him up with a Little that you knew he would come to care for. You put the both of them in danger twice. I know the first time was necessary, but the second wasn't," he added when M began to respond. "The second time was entirely because of your own plans, because you thought you knew what was best and because you thought Bond wouldn’t figure it out. If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times: stop underestimating our agents! They are smarter than you give them credit for, particularly your 00-agents."
"It was to help Bond," M snapped, unsettled by what felt suspiciously like a scolding. "He needed a Little. He was becoming dangerously unstable, regardless of whether he wanted to acknowledge that or not."
"But did you ever stop to wonder if that was what Bond wanted?" Boothroyd said, raising an eyebrow.
"Bond is like a child. He doesn't know what he wants," she huffed.
He conceded that point with a nod, but said, “This time though, you weren’t just meddling with Bond. You involved someone else as well. Someone who, if you’re correct, is now very important to him. It stands to reason that Bond would have deviated from your script in order to protect Q.”
Yes, perhaps that had been a miscalculation. She’d known from the beginning that it would be a gamble, but she had hoped that it would pay off. Bond was adamant about not wanting a Little. He just needed a push in the right direction. What better way to do that than to put a prospective Little into danger? And it wasn’t real danger – all of the MI6 agents on the job had strict instructions not to hurt Q less Bond go into a killing rage.
But Boothroyd was right in one respect: she had forgot how bloody smart Bond could be sometimes. In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising that he had figured out what was going on. She knew Bond well, but that meant he also knew her well – probably better than any other agent did. He was probably pissed at her right now, she reflected, and was reacting childishly as a result by going completely off the grid with Q. That was the part that frustrated her the most. She hated it when Bond managed to one-up her!
At last, M said, “I still think it was necessary.”
“Even if Bond never returns?” Boothroyd said, sounding genuinely curious.
“I believe he will,” she admitted. “Bond lives and dies for Queen and country.”
“He has something else to live for now,” he pointed out. “Any sane person would argue that Bond has more than done his duty. 00-agents rarely retire happily. Perhaps Bond could be one of the few.”
It sounded reasonable yet sat wrong. M shook her head. “I don’t believe it. He would go crazy without a gunfight on a regular basis. You and I both know that he needs the adrenaline rush. And Q seemed very excited about mentoring under you. If they are still together, Bond wouldn’t deny him that.”
Boothroyd cocked his head. “You believe they may not be together?”
“Bond has a way of surprising me sometimes,” she said grimly. “He knows I set this plan up. I wouldn’t put it past him to cut off contact with Q just to spite me. Or they could’ve been incompatible.” She hated to acknowledge that possibility, but it was true. On paper, Q and Bond lined up marvellously. In person, there was always that pesky human element. Based on all the reports, it seemed like the two of them had been getting along – but that could also be attributed to Bond’s determination to see his mission through.
“Hmm.” Boothroyd drummed his fingers against his lips, looking thoughtful. He offered nothing more, probably because he knew she was right, and M sighed as she finished off her spiked tea. Then, because it was only Boothroyd in the room, she refilled her mug with pure whiskey and then sat there frowning into it.
They both jumped when her intercom rang. M recovered quickly and hit the button. “Yes?”
“You have a visitor, Ma’am,” her secretary said.
“I’m busy,” M said.
“They’re rather insistent.”
M sighed. That could mean anything from an aggravated agent to the head of a department complaining about funding. In a sour voice, she said, “Very well, send them in.”
As the door swung open moments later, she discovered that it was the former. James Bond, dressed in a three-piece, black bespoke suit with a blue tie that matched his eyes exactly, strolled into her office with a cocky smirk. Q followed on his heels; he wasn’t wearing a suit, but he was wearing a white shirt, black tie and blue fitted jumper. Both of them looked polished and put together and immediately set M’s teeth on edge.
“Hello Mum,” Bond said grandly. “Boothroyd.”
Boothroyd didn’t even attempt to hide smirk. “Hello Bond. You must be Q.” He set his mug aside and stood, reaching out a hand. Q grasped it and shook.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Q said, eyes warm behind his glasses. His expression cooled significantly as he turned to M and added, “And you must be M.”
“Where the bloody hell have you been?” M demanded, disregarding Q entirely.
Bond smirked at her. “After all the work you did in trying to force me and Q together, I thought you’d approve if the two of us took a trip.”
“And you didn’t think it was necessary to tell anyone here of your plans?” she said tightly.
“Well, you didn’t tell us about your plan.” He shrugged glibly. At his side, Q smiled faintly.
M glanced between the two of them with an air of dawning horror as she realized that her plan had worked a little too well. She had never seen Bond completely at ease with anyone but Alec Trevelyan, yet here stood one of her most dangerous 00-agents with her future Quartermaster well inside his personal space. Bond was relaxed in spite of Q’s close presence even though there were barely a few centimetres of space between them.
She suddenly foresaw a future in which MI6 was supported on the back of these two men who were going to be – or who already were - utterly tangled up in one another, and cursed herself for her lack of foresight. Bond was going to be a menace, and it seemed like Q was cut from a similar cloth. This was going to be a nightmare and she had no one to blame but herself.
Q’s smile widened, as though he had perfectly interpreted M’s thought process, and said lightly, “I’ve been informed that we are required to report any personal relationships. Mr. Boothroyd, please consider this my official registration of James Bond as my caregiver. I understand if that means you’d rather I didn’t join your group.”
“Nonsense!” Boothroyd exclaimed almost before Q had finished speaking. “Of course I still want you. When can you start? Tomorrow? Now?”
“Now sounds lovely,” Q said, smile becoming a little more genuine. He glanced at Bond, and there was a slight pause during which the two had a silent conversation through facial expression alone, before Q turned away and stepped towards Boothroyd. In less than a minute, Boothroyd had swept Q out the door and left Bond alone with M.
“I hate you both,” M said as the door swung shut.
Bond burst into laughter. “But your plan worked! You should be pleased,” he said with a smirk.
M glowered at him. “You know damn well why I’m not pleased. Seven weeks, Bond!”
Some of his humour left his face. “We needed the time, Q especially.”
“Was he hurt?” M said, thinking back to the reports. They hadn’t indicated any major injuries, but none of her agents had got a good look at Bond or Q either.
“Not physically,” Bond said. There was a glint in his eyes that suggested no more details would be forthcoming no matter how much she demanded it. M quelled her frustration before it could show.
“And now?” she said.
“Now he’s my Little,” Bond said, a trace of pride in his voice. “Congratulations, you won.”
But she hadn’t won at all, and they both knew it. This was the moment where she could’ve been petty and put him on some sort of forced leave, but there was a good chance that Q would leave with him and then Boothroyd would be angry… and she did so hate it when Boothroyd was angry at her. It made life exceedingly difficult when none of the electronics in her life obeyed her.
“There’s a mission waiting for you,” she said instead. “I hope you and Q have spoken about logistical matters.”
Bond nodded. “We’ve worked things out.”
“Good. Here’s your file.” She pulled the file out of her drawer and tossed it on her desk. “Now get out.”
He took the file and tucked it beneath his arm. “I feel I should thank you,” he commented. “That was the best vacation I’ve had in years.”
“Get out, 007,” she snapped. Grinning, he went.
Alone in her office, M sighed loudly and tossed back half the contents of her mug. The whiskey burned pleasantly on the way down but did little to placate the aftertaste of having been so thoroughly beaten – and by one of her own, no less. Still, she couldn’t deny that, overall, she wasn’t unhappy with how things had turned out. MI6 would have a new Quartermaster when Boothroyd retired, Bond had a Little and reinforced ties to MI6 to boot, and Bond had only blown one building up in the past two months, which was a new record for him.
The future looked bright. She smiled with satisfaction and finished off her whiskey.