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MI-6 found a way around getting Q to avoid joining Bond on some of the more technical missions; if they couldn’t send him by land or air, then sea would have to do. Q had his equipment packed in his case, everything waterproofed in case the worst happened — which, knowing Bond, would probably happen.
For optimum safety, Bond and Q had to switch ships halfway through the journey, the two of them climbing down in to a speedboat, joined by two rather bulky crew-members. Crew-members who took joy in watching Q squirm, the way he almost turned green as the boat rocked. Bond tried not to smirk at Q’s obvious discomfort, but couldn’t help but find it endearing when the quartermaster let out a groan as the boat lurched on the waves.
“C’mon, lad, stop bein’ such a bloody girl!”
Q glared at the crew-member, clutching on to the side of the boat. “Please, leave me alone.”
“Look, kid. There’s nothin’ more beautiful than the open sea! Look! Take it all in!”
He managed to uncurl Q’s fingers and pull him to his feet, draping an arm over his shoulders and motioning to the blue surrounding them. Q panicked, having nothing sturdy to hold on to. The crew-member laughed again, beginning to rock the boat; Bond frowned, watching Q panic even more, trying to keep his balance. He made it to the edge, just about to collapse down and cling on for dear life when the boat gave another violent lurch, sending Q tumbling over the edge. Bond jumped to his feet, watching the panicked splashing of his quartermaster as the boat continued it’s journey.
“Q!”
“Bond! Help!”
Bond grabbed the crew-members jacket, giving him a violent shake. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?!”
The crew-member frowned, a look of guilt on his face. “We were just muckin’ around.”
“Bond! No rush…” Q was cut off as his face dipped under the water, he resurfaced coughing water from his lungs. “…But I can’t swim!”
Bond began muttering every swear word he knew, stripping off his suit jacket and diving in to the water. Q was still flailing, inadvertently splashing water back in to his face until his head dipped below again. Bond swam as hard and fast as he could, the few moments he’d taken to chastise the crew-member had put more distance between them than he’d thought. He cracked his eyes open in the murky water, trying to see if he could see Q; he managed to make out the skinny body of his quartermaster, slowly sinking further in to the water.
He swam as fast as he could, finally reaching Q, grabbing his arm and pulling him back up to the surface. When they broke the surface, Q didn’t take in a heaving gulp of air like Bond hoped he would, instead he bobbed lifelessly beside him.
“Fuck, come on, Q!”
Slinging Q’s arm over his shoulder, Bond began to make his way back to the boat which had finally turned around to fetch them. The crew-member who’d rocked the boat reached out, grabbing Q’s arms and hoisting him out of the water, sprawling him out in the bottom of the boat. Bond quickly heaved himself over the side, collapsing at Q’s side, holding his ear over his mouth to listen for breathing.
“Fucking fuck!”
Quickly wiping a hand over his face to try and get rid of some of the water, he jumped straight in to his training; linking one hand over the other, giving firm chest compressions before pinching his nose and sealing their mouths together, breathing two sharp breaths in to his mouth before repeating. After another ten compressions, Q began spluttering, water spurting from his mouth as he rolled on to his side, choking and gasping for air. Bond let out a loud sigh of relief, falling to his back-side, rubbing a hand across his forehead.
“Jesus… Thank fuck.”
Q peered up, his face tinged red as he still tried to empty his lungs of sea water. “Bond?”
“Welcome back, Q.”
The crew-member dragged over the first aid chest, pulling out a blanket. Bond took it from him, grabbing Q’s wrist and pulling him, draping the blanket over him and pulling him back against his chest. Q made a weak sound of protest, but relaxed in Bond’s arms, his chest heaving for full breaths of air. Bond locked his arms around Q’s small body, letting his fingers thread through his wet hair, trying his best to soothe the quartermaster.
“I notice my glasses stayed on,” Q croaked, shifting in Bond’s grip. Bond chuckled, pressing his nose to the nape of Q’s neck.
“You’re a lucky man.”
“Can I have it written in to my contract that I never ever leave the country?”
Bond nodded. “Of course. Besides, I wouldn’t get much done if I had to rush around saving you all the time.”
Q smiled, curling up in Bond’s arms, resting his head against his shoulder. Bond finally let out the tense breath he’d been holding. Q was safe, Q was alive, Q was finding comfort in his arms. Neither man said a word, curling up together at the back of the boat as it continued its journey to the other ship.
Once they boarded the other ship, Bond ushered Q straight to his cabin, pushing him in to the shower, waiting for him to emerge groggily, still worn out from his ordeal before wrapping him in a towel, dragging him over to his bed. He quickly changed his own clothes, too worried about Q’s well being to care about modesty, crawling in to bed beside the quartermaster, pulling his head on to his lap. Q let out a quiet puff of air, snuggling even closer.
“Thank you, Bond. For looking after me.”
Bond smiled, running his fingers through Q’s damp hair. “It’s fine, Q. I need you alive. You know I’ll be a wreck without you.”