Chapter Text
December 1
It had been some days since Q had seen Bond for the last time. Nothing too strange, but again it was that time of the year, namely the pre-Christmas season. This alone was already giving him too much time to wrap his mind around various hypothetical issues, fascinating and terrifying at the same time.
At the end of the day he probably would have forgotten about these thoughts if there were not something strange in his mail …
The blank paper in his right hand was rough and thin at the same time, not weighing much more than a feather on his fingertips. No stamp was to be found, not a single evidence of where or when it had been sent. He was not even sure if this nameless envelope has been posted, it seemed far more likely that it was deposited right in his mailbox by its author.
Q slid open the loose flap that had been tucked under the overlapping paper. Still looking for any evidence that could tell him who wanted to get in contact with Q that privately, he unfolded the letter. At the first glance he only perceived a neat handwriting. Q did not read through it first but it took him some time to identify the signature at the end of these few lines as a J.
As single J, to be precise. Much like a J as in … James.
It dawned on him. This was not an unwanted postcard from his most favourite – he emphasised the ‘favourite’ by forming the word with his lips – agent of the MI6. It was rather a genuine letter, written with one of the better fountain pens, the ink drawn in a precise manner. As if the signature was a mistake, a flaw compared to the lines above.
He had yet not even read it but he could not help falling for the picture created by these fine rows of ultramarine blue ink.
‘I never imagined the sky glowing with such a deep tone of red. Darker than fire, much more like blood.
Can you imagine that I have not thought about England a single time since I arrived here? Neither do I.
No mountains, no snow, only warm rain and bright sunshine. I didn’t ask yet you how your flight to Austria has been - nevermind.
Oh, and I still carry my … your gun with me. Why smudging a complex technical machine with blood when hands are easier to wipe clean, right? Although everything can happen just five minutes from now. Don’t pin me down on this, Q.
Take care,
J’
Q was baffled. Startled, to be precise. He blinked a few times. Many times. He did not wonder how Bond got his address, how he delivered this letter. No agent had ever sent him a personal letter. He did not know what to do – or how to take care. Any advice by Bond was not to be taken lightly.