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It was dark, Q knew that much. It would have been dark even if Q wasn’t wearing a blindfold, he was sure of that much, considering how little light was peeking through the gap in his blindfold. It was cold too, but considering it was London in the winter, that didn’t say much about where he was being held. For all he knew, he could be tied up in the basement of his own home. Granted, he knew the chances of that being very unlikely, but still…
His captors were conversing quietly on the other side of the room, but Q could still hear them.
“…look at the computer he has…”
“…rich bastard…probably living off Daddy’s money…”
“…he’ll fetch a good price...”
Now Q was torn between groaning in annoyance or sighing with relief. So these men had no idea that he was the Quartermaster of MI6. They were just run of the mill kidnappers. On one hand, it was a relief that Q didn’t have to worry about withstanding any torture sessions (or “alternative interrogation methods” as some called them) for sensitive information anytime soon. But on the other…what did it say about Q’s security when lowlife kidnappers could get ahold of him with little to no effort.
He did not want to face M after this one. It was not his fault someone had broken into his home while he was at MI6.
No matter, at least he wasn’t in any immediate danger at the moment…at least until the criminals figured out that the family tree Q had was completely fabricated and that Q had no family to pay their ransom (unless Q wanted to pay it himself, but he doubt they would accept the offer).
Q’s internal musings were cut short by the door being kicked open. He knew it was the door being kicked in mainly because he had heard the sound many times before, plus a bolt of light hit the one spot Q could see through his blindfold. Though he could see light through his blindfold, he couldn’t see much else except for the floor. So for the most part, he relied on hearing.
It was gunfire he heard first, accompanied by the frantic shouts of his kidnappers. There was a distinct clatter against the stone floor of the room, a gun being knocked aside most likely. The clatter was followed by a dull snap and a sharp cry of agony. A broken bone, maybe? Q wasn’t the best judge.
There was a grunt, followed by a muted thud and a low gurgling noise. If Q had to guess, he’d say that someone had just received a blow to the throat.
Judging by the level of fighting going on, Q had a good idea of what was going on, but without being able to see it, he couldn’t know for sure.
It wasn’t until he actually heard someone speak that his suspicions were confirmed.
“Who sent you?”
James’s voice was cold and harsh and, judging by the whimpering, he was interrogating the man whose arm he had just broken.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about…oh God, don’t kill me!”
Q cleared his throat, “They’re just kidnappers, James. No evil schemes there.”
There was a firm crack, followed by what Q imagined was a body falling to the floor. Then the only noises in the room were the footsteps approaching him. The first Q saw of James was his knee appearing in view as the agent knelt before him. Only after James removed the blindfold could he actually see for the first time.
“Took you long enough.” Q tried to joke.
James sighed, “Are you hurt at all?”
Q shook his head, “No, they thought I was some rich boy and they were going to try and ransom me. They have no idea who I am.”
The agent snorted, “M is going to have a field day when he hears about this…I’m already in big enough trouble…”
“Don’t remind me…” Q sighed, then paused, “Wait, why are you in trouble?”
“Well…” James muttered as he untied Q, “I may have flipped M’s desk during a fit of rage before I came to find you…”