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It wasn’t often Mallory found himself heading down to Q-Branch. One of the perks of being M was he could summon people to him, he didn’t have to seek them out. But it was different today. Throughout the morning he had received a series of messages from his Chief of Staff, the first being:
From: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
To: M (ID. 8017649)
Q is late again.
The second was:
From: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
To: M (ID. 8017649)
Looks like he’s not slept again. And he’s refusing to eat anything.
All signs that something was wrong. Q is never late, and occasionally he’s so early as he’s not actually left the building, yet he had been regularly running late for a few weeks. And while he had some bad habits when it came to self-care, like forgetting to eat or trying to last another hour at work instead of heading home for rest, it would always appear to be due to getting engrossed in work, and simply not feeling tired. Or so he would claim, as he would sometimes look exhausted but somehow still gained energy from somewhere to keep going if something required his attention. He never out right refused to take care of himself when it was brought up with him though, because he was aware of his shortcomings when it came to self-care.
Then 30 minutes later:
From: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
To: M (ID. 8017649)
Someone knocked something over, he made everyone leave the room. Including me
From: M (ID. 8017649)
To: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
Why did you leave?
From: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
To: M (ID. 8017649)
He needs a minute.
From: M (ID. 8017649)
To: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
He’s had a week since this was first addressed with him
Although Q has kept Q-branch running relatively smoothly, news of his lateness and outbursts had been trickling their way back to M for a few weeks. He had called the Quartermaster into a meeting a week ago to attempt to bring up his attitude, without making it too official, something Q had offered no reasoning for, just sombrely accepted that he was irritable lately. It appeared that since then Q had elected to either secluding himself somewhere or sending everyone away at the drop of a hat. It simply was not an acceptable solution, and though M was reluctant to call a formal meeting, he was going to have to more explicitly hang that threat over Q’s head in hopes of getting somewhere.
It’s a while before he gets another message.
From: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
To: M (ID. 8017649)
If I may put forward, I think there is something more going on.
From: M (ID. 8017649)
To: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
I agree. What are your thoughts?
From: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
To: M (ID. 8017649)
I raised my hand to rub my neck and he flinched.
From: M (ID. 8017649)
To: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
I will have a talk with him later this afternoon.
He found Q at his desk in communications, and as soon as he caught the man’s attention, snapped, “Meeting room, now,” not waiting to get an affirmative before turning to stride back out.
“I think it’s time you explain yourself,” M said as soon as the door was closed behind them, voice carefully level.
“Sir?”
M’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I need to clarify that your behaviour of late has been unacceptable.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“No. Not good enough.” M said coolly. “I have given you time to sort out whatever’s going on, and there’s been no change.”
“I know,” Q’s voice taking on an air of defiance. “But maybe it’s not something that can just be fixed in week.”
“Then maybe I need to reconsider if Quartermaster is the right position for you.”
Q’s eyes widened at that, and he shook his head minutely. “M, wait. I’m not saying I can’t do my job. I keep everything up to date…”
“You sent your staff out the room this morning. Why?”
No reply.
“For God’s sake Q, you’re going to have to start giving me some answers, or you’re going to force my hand.”
Q’s eyes dropped to the floor, his shoulder’s sagging as his arms wrapped around his middle, a defensive, self-protective posture. “I’m not sure what I can say.”
“Say you will make an appointment with the psychology team. Show me you are taking the steps to get this sorted. At the moment, I see no real effort.” M sighed as Q looked up but refused to make eye contact. “I’ve been lenient with you. There are a number of issues that have been raised that I let slide as I trust you to stay on top of your work and your department. But if you can’t handle this, maybe you need to take a step back.” Q’s arms tightened, and M could see him digging his fingers into his sides. “You could do just as well in a position with… less pressure.”
“It’s not the pressure of the job,” he countered quickly.
“Then what is it?”
Q’s mouth opened a moment, as if he was about to say something. M could see it. Something right on the tip of his tongue that was refusing to come out, but Q shook his head, the distress clearly visible on his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just get yourself in order.”
M turned to leave, but stopped by the door. “The next time we have to have this meeting, I will be placing you on medical leave.”
From: M (ID. 8017649)
To: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
Have Q’s GPS sent to my phone. Keep this between us
***
He would reason later that following his Quartermaster was the right thing to do for several purposes. First being that Q was exceptionally talented and competent, and whatever he might say, he was not going to give up on him without a fight. The second was that he couldn’t very well fight what he didn’t know. And thirdly, Q was obviously worn out, and whatever was going on that he was struggling to acknowledge, maybe he needed someone to take over.
When Q finally clocked out at 18:45, he checked the tracking app to make sure it was indeed following the young man, watching the little dot take his usual route home on the tube. He left himself soon after, spending the journey home thinking of dinner, maybe a small glass of wine, and some less important e-mails to check off.
He was halfway through a plate of chicken and rice when an alert sounded from his phone. Checking it, Q was on the move again, although he didn’t appear to be heading back into work. Mallory sighed, placing his dinner in the kitchen and collecting his coat and keys.
He followed the dot in his car, parking in Finsbury Square and walking towards where the dot had been stopped for some time. He eventually found his Quartermaster in a darkened alley, seemingly in some kind of conversation with a taller man M couldn’t quite make out without revealing himself.
So he stood at the end of the alley and watched, straining his ears to catch any words passing between the two. All he heard were the odd word here and there, “No” and “I don’t think so,” and “I told you…” Q was saying, and whatever the man’s response clearly didn’t sit well with Q, who started backing away.
“I should go,” he heard, as the man started moving closer, and as much as he wanted to storm into the middle at that moment, he waited to see what would happen. He didn’t think Q would be foolish enough to walk himself into this situation if it were dangerous, but then again he didn’t know who this man was. He also wasn’t sure Q would really appreciate his interruption, however well meaning unless there was a good enough reason, given how tight lipped he’d been so far on whatever it was he was up to.
He also felt that that reason would present itself soon enough, as Q was trying to walk away, and the man did not seem in the mood to let him, using his arms to block the young mans attempts to leave, bodily placing himself in the way. M felt his body tense, and then it happened quickly. Q tried to push past, but the man caught his arm holding him back. When Q tried to yank himself free, the man shoved him back against the well, stepping close with a finger raised to his Quartermaster’s face.
And that was enough. Mallory strode forward, calling in his most commanding voice, “Let him go!”
“Fuck off, mate.”
M glared. “Let go of him!” his voice lowering, a hint of danger that Q clearly heard, even if the man did not, as he turned wide green eyes on M and shook his head minutely.
It didn’t matter, Q’s personal feelings in this were compromised, as far as M was concerned. Right now, it was Mallory’s job to protect his subordinate. He closed the distance swiftly, placing one hand with fingers digging into the nerve points at the elbow of the arm holding Q, and pressed his forearm into the assailant’s neck, forcing the larger man to let go and back up if he wanted to breathe. “I said get your hands off him,” he all but snarled.
As soon as Q was free he took a few steps away, keeping himself plastered against the wall and unable to look away.
“Sir?”
M let go of the man. “I suggest you leave. Now!”
“What the fuck is it to you, dickhead? This was a private conversation.”
“Not very private in a public street.” He glanced at Q and motioned him off towards the main street, but he didn’t move.
“Still none of your fucking business,” the man growled, puffing out his chest, fists balled, none of which M found particularly intimidating. He stank of alcohol.
“He clearly wanted to leave, and you were stopping him. You made it my business in that moment.” He turned to look back to Q, once again motioning him away “Go!”. And again Q didn’t seem to acknowledge him.
“And who the fuck are you? His boyfriend?”
“That I don’t think is any of your business,” M hissed, feeling the anger creeping up inside him. “I’m his employer.”
“So what? Are you fucking him?” The man looked at Q. “Is that what’s going on? You’re whoring yourself out to your boss?”
M felt a thunderous rage for a moment, and turned to Q, finally taking hold of the slender shoulder and physically started pushing him out of the alley. “I told you to go.”
“Sir, I don’t…”
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” The man hollered from behind them.
“Just ignore him,” M instructed, but Q flinched at the next words.
“Don’t you walk away from me, boy!”
From this close, with a hand still resting on a shoulder, he could feel the distress in Q’s body. The quiet “No, M, I can’t.. No,” as Mallory continued to steer him down the street.
“He can’t do anything, just keep walking.”
When they reached his car he directed Q into the passenger seat, climbing in behind the wheel, he set off back home.
“We’re going back to mine.”
“Sir…”
“We need to have a talk.”
“I’m sorry.”
M didn’t reply, and they drove in silence for a while, Q growing steadily more panicked. Eventually he couldn’t stop the words pouring out.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there. I didn’t know that would happen. I thought I could handle it. I’m sorry. I should have been able to handle it…”
M’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Wesley!” Q froze. “Calm down. Just breathe.” Mallory took a deep breath of his own, glancing at his passenger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sir?”
“How long has he been around for?”
“I don’t… I’m sorry, M. I should have…”
“.. have been able to handle it. Perhaps. But when you realised you couldn’t, you should have told me.” Q sighed, but didn’t reply. “Is he dangerous?”
“No.”
“Let me rephrase that. Is he a danger to you?”
A pause, and then quietly, “I don’t know.” Another pause. “He drinks a lot.”
“What do you want done about it?”
Q fidgeted. “I tried to handle it,” he whispered miserably.
“And now I’m taking over. So tell me what you want.”
He caught Q’s eyes for a moment, still wide and panicked looking, and he sighed, softening his voice. “Wes, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt in this job it’s that I can’t do everything on my own. And when there are things I can’t manage, I have to hand them off to someone else.” He rested a hand on Q’s wrist for a moment, giving what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “Let me help.”
A few minutes past in silence, and they pulled up M’s driveway and came to a stop in the garage. Neither moved, M wondering if there was some sort of challenge going on, Q hoping to drop the conversation if he could outlast Mallory. But a look at him said otherwise. Q seemed lost in some internal battle. So M waited.
After another minute, he prompted gently, “What do you want?”
“I want him out of my life,” Q hissed. “I don’t want him near me again. I hate him. I hate that he can do this to me. I just want him gone.” He let out a long ragged breath.
“I will sort it out,” M assured him. “But I want you to promise me something, Q. Wes, I want you to give me your word that if that man ever tries to contact you again, no matter harmless it seems, you will tell me. And I will deal with it immediately.”
He led Q inside, and after insisting on some dinner and offering some spare pyjamas and leaving him in the guest room, he lay on his own bed with a groan.
From: M (ID. 8017649)
To: Bill Tanner (ID. 8018964)
Find Henry Llandric
***
M walked up to the address he’d been sent, a house in Becontree that looked as uncared for as he imagined it would. He didn’t bother knocking, taking out some tools and making short work of the yale lock, letting himself inside.
To say the inside was grimy was an understatement. Wallpaper was half peeled off, there were plates and takeaway boxes that looked weeks old, empty bottles and cans scattered all over. There was nothing in the way of personal possessions, which fit the information he’d been given. Llandric had been in and out of prison for petty crimes, and cycled between homeless, hostels, and renting.
There was a heavy scuffing of feet on the stairs, and M turned to meet the man who came down.
“Mr. Llandric.”
“Who the fuck … how did you get in?!”
“Through the front door.”
Llandric stumbled forwards, raising a finger pointed at M. “You. You’re the knobhead from the other night.”
“I’ll be out your way in a minute, but first there’s some business we need to discuss.”
“Is this about Aiden?”
M’s eyes instantly narrowed. “It is. I’m here to let you know that an injunction order has been filed. And I assure you, it will go through.”
“What?”
M stepped closer, his jaw set, voice a threatening calm. “I want you to listen to me carefully, Mr. Llandric. You will not touch him again. You will not speak to him again. You will not see him again. In fact, it would be best if you left the city.”
“You can’t make me.”
“I can. And the courts can.”
Llandric shook his head, an almost wild look in his eye. “You can’t do this. You can’t fucking do that!! I have a right to talk to my son!”
“You lost that right fourteen years ago,” M snarled. “And I assure you, if you make any attempt to contact him again, I will personally make sure you spend every year owed to you behind bars. Do I make myself clear?”
Llandric glared, a seething rage turning his face red, raising a fist and lunging forward. “You fucking cu…”
M deftly stepped aside, catching the wrist and jabbing his own fist into the man’s sternum, then spun, forcing Llandric around, arm now twisted behind and shoved the man face first into the wall. “Do I make myself clear?”
A few minutes later M was climbing back into the car, adjusting his suit and rubbing at his knuckles. Tanner was watching him from the driver’s seat, a curious frown on his face.
“Everything okay, sir?”
M looked at him a moment, lips pressed together, and sighed. “It will be.”
Tanner glanced past him to the house he’d just come from. “And Q… ah, Q will be okay?”
“Of course he will. Forget that bastard. He’s still our Q.”