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Bill Tanner liked to think of himself as reasonable to the extent his professional capacity would allow him. He had an abundance of patience, perhaps giving him a warmer, more approachable feel to those who weren’t used to talking so amicably with such a senior member of staff. His clearance granted him access to the complete files of almost every employee, with a few exceptions of high-ranking staff who had information hidden as “need to know”, and overseeing staff structure and mediating any concerns meant he probably had a better knowledge of the working cogs of MI6 than anyone else. That made his opinion valuable.
In instances where performance concerns were being raised, he opted to find solutions, a change in position, in job role, working with medical and psychology, training, courses, before submitting that the individual in question was likely not 6 material and signing off on dismissal. For someone to be accepted, they had to show potential, and occasionally potential is all they ever had.
More complicated were the times when someone who had delivered consistent, high quality work was starting to struggle, and he was loathe to lose them from the payroll. The team would try and work more intensely to find a solution, but sometimes there wasn’t improvement, and unfortunately the standard of expectations at 6 couldn’t be shifted to accommodate.
And then there were the exceptions. There weren’t many, but these were the few that he would bend over backwards to keep if he could. They were the ones that brought something seemingly irreplaceable to the table, although that might appear to be exaggerating someone’s abilities when, even if very few, there were always others that could take their place. For example, the Quartermaster. He even had a few names for consideration should anything happen to the current Quartermaster, names that had been considered when the previous title holder had passed away unexpectedly that were wholly capable of fulfilling the role, but nobody would truly be able to replace Q.
He had a presence, an energy, that seemed to fuel those around him, an air of authority that after the first few months calmed from a strict professionalism into something softer, but no less authoritative. He was able to keep track of everything going on in his department whilst getting himself lost in various projects. He could know what every one of his staff were doing from a desk in the basements of MI6 where he’d spent all day elbow deep designing gadgetry, or coding new programmes, transitioning smoothly between technician, programmer, mechanic, and Q-branch head at any given time. And as steely and strangely formidable as he could be taking lead in ops, the embodiment of meticulous efficiency in an eclectic array of cardigans, was as awkward and fidgety he could be when faced with making small talk. He was, everything considered, annoyingly likeable.
Even when cracks appeared, there was never any doubt that he could do whatever was asked of him, and every discussion Tanner had with M was at its core about not giving doubt a chance to manifest.
Tanner noticed those first cracks helping Q clean up after 007 had hit him with something, having insisted the younger man get checked out when he had been a little unsteady on his feet, and though Q’s assurance of “looks worse than it is” had been accurate, it was Bill’s first close up view of how tired the man appeared.
The following weeks were spent keeping a closer eye on Q, just his own personal concern, not close enough for anything to make its way to a report, but enough to notice he seemed to have accrued an entourage of double 0’s that Bill was starting to suspect were running interference whenever Q had a “wobbly moment”.
He would muse on the implications of Q and the double 0’s teaming up, especially when he noted 007 was never too far away. While the agents had respect for Major Boothroyd, there was a companiable loyalty forming between them and Q, and Bill couldn’t help but think it was a situation that would end up with someone hurt, and he had a good idea who.
Eventually though, even the double 0’s couldn’t hide the decline. Q could sometimes be a whirlwind of frustration, but even when those in the near vicinity got caught in it, it was rarely targeted at anyone in particular. He would let his displeasure be known if someone was in error, more often adopting a cordial dismissiveness with someone rather than chew them out.
He had a few meetings about Q with M regarding concerns more often raised by R, usually when it was noticed that he hadn’t been home for a few days, or that he had but was back an hour or two later, or that he hadn’t been eating more than a few bites here and there.
The fact is the world doesn’t sleep, and a situation could spiral into catastrophe at any moment, one that could well demand Q’s attention for an extended period of time. Sometimes they didn’t have the luxury of sleeping for a good eight hours or sitting down to a full meal, so M’s general response of “see how far he can go” made some sense. It would do them well to know how far the Quartermaster could push himself, and truthfully, results sometimes mattered more than an individual’s wellbeing. As long as the work was up to standard, M seemed more or less happy to let Q work himself into the ground simply to find where that ground was.
In those times, Bill would take it upon himself to make sure food was sent down, would insist that Q took breaks, and soon found an accomplice in Moneypenny who it seemed had developed an easy friendship with the boffin.
It had been different this time, though. When R first came to him to tell that the atmosphere in Q-branch was rife with tension as the Quartermaster had been snapping at his minions over every little thing leaving everyone on edge, Bill had tried to talk to the younger man. It was fruitless, Q was evasive and could manipulate a conversation like the best of them, but Bill could already see him getting distracted easily, lost in his thoughts, eyes betraying some hidden dread.
By the time M decided it was time he speak to the Quartermaster personally, Bill was spending an ever-increasing amount of his time watching the man, questioning if M’s reasoning for letting this go on wasn’t doing some irreparable harm. The last thing he wanted was for Q to face repercussions because instead of laying down the importance of rest and pushing him to take better care, they had enabled a habit. But he was also starting to notice a pattern. The bouts of irritability became more obviously anxiety driven, and what set it off appeared to be loud noises, someone knocking something over, coughing, raising their voice, sudden movements near him. The way Q’s eyes would dart around, or the way he would still, if just for a moment, eyes fixed off in the distance; If Bill didn’t know better, he would have guessed this was some form of PTSD.
Except he did know better. In Q’s file were a few snippets of information that were fairly harmless on the surface, but concealed something darker. With that in mind he would acquiesce when the boffin sent him away, despite M all but ordering him to stay close and report back. And when Q, not for the first time, flinched away from him, eyes wide and wild with fright for a second, Bill had to voice his concern, and it seemed M was arriving at a similar conclusion.
He had been slightly confused when M had wanted to track Q’s whereabouts, but it became clear when he received the order to find Llandric. Q’s biological father; while there was little to no information on exactly what had happened, there was another file with a different name to the one Q used, the previous M had handed to him when Q was promoted, that listed an emergency protection order had been issued, followed by a care order, for an eleven year old boy. Essentially, Llandric should never have been able to get close, there had been an oversight somewhere, one that M personally saw to fixing.
As 007 was taking some leave after a successful mission, M had ordered Q away with him in the hopes that some time away in the Scottish air would help Q unwind some, and that they could arrange appointments with the psychology team on mutual terms, rather than go through the procedure of placing Q on leave with mandatory sessions until he was cleared for duty. M had chosen not to tell Q this before he’d left, so when he returned, Bill had ordered take away, brought in some beer, a copy of Eldritch Horror, and booked a meeting room for a few hours to hopefully relax, and maybe distract a bit, before discussing the least unacceptable solution moving forward.