Work Text:
I get kind of dark
Let it go too far
-
One of the many misconceptions made about Q, is that because he’s in front of a computer all day, he has no idea what field agents go through. He wishes that that were true. But what people forget is that he spends most of his time with at least one of the double-oh’s in his ear, cursing their way through a gunfight or seducing someone close to their mark into the nearest bed. There was even that one time, thanks to 005 being shot just slightly to right of his heart and the medevac team being too far away, that he heard someone die.
He doesn’t think that he’ll even stop having nightmares about that.
So no, Q has too good of an idea of what field agents go through. He’s got them in his ear for most of it. And it’s because of that, because he has to listen to them fuck and fight their way across every inch of the globe, that he goes home alone. Because when the only person he wants in his bed is a double-oh, (007 to be exact, the worst of the lot of them), it’s always safer to just go home alone.
He thinks that he might just make it out of the whole mess somewhat intact if he does.
-
I can be obnoxious at times
But try and see my heart
-
Another misconception about Q is that he’s humble, that he’s just this shy little computer nerd that accidentally crawled into MI6’s servers and wasn’t able to get out before they caught him. Q can’t help but snort whenever he hears this one, because no, he’s not humble in the slightest. That’s honestly his greatest failing, his lack of humility. But that’s probably what also makes him so great at his job; because in order to deal with some of the people that he has to deal with, he has to have to have some kind of arrogance about him, or they would never respect him otherwise.
And he would love to refute the claim that he hacked into MI6 on accident, but really, no one honestly needs to know that it was 4 AM or that he was drunk or that he’s pretty sure he was naked when he did it. So he lets that slide for the sake of his dignity, even though he’s not sure that he’s allowed to even claim dignity after some of the things he’s done.
But that might just be his conscience talking after watching as 007 walks away from him again for what must be the nth time in a row. Because while he’s arrogant to almost a fault, he’s not stupid enough to think that he would ever survive the fallout that would come from being with James Bond of all people. Because no one survives James Bond. He doesn't even have to look at the man's file to know that.
-
Cause I need you now
So don’t let me down
-
It takes Q being kidnapped for him to realize that maybe he went about the whole mess with 007 the wrong way. That maybe for once in his life, he should’ve jumped instead of playing it safe like he always did.
He only gets to think these thoughts though long after his captors have beaten him nearly senseless in an attempt to get him to spill government secrets, only Q is made of stronger stuff than that. It’s another situation where people assume that MI6 only hired him because he was a pretty face with a quick mind. So he takes the punches to the faces and stomach, (his glasses are laying broken wherever he had been snatched from, having flown off his face the first time he had been punched), he takes the razor fine cuts over his skin, (not deep enough to kill but deep enough to cause severe fucking pain), he takes all that they throw at him, but he doesn’t reveal anything. Doesn’t open his mouth except to scream, because while he can take what they’re giving him, that doesn’t mean that he’s going to take it quietly. They do gag him before long, because apparently even torturers have limits to what they can take. But they eventually get tired of torturing him and leave him alone. Leave him alone with the thoughts in his head that he screwed up long before this moment.
He’s got his eyes closed and is letting his head hang down, waiting for the bullet that will inevitably end his life (because why would his captors let him live when he won’t talk), when there’s some screaming and gunshots, but none of them come near him. He doesn’t pick his head up and look around for the reason why though, because he’s resigned himself to death and he’s not giving that up.
“I’ve found him M, he looks like shit.” And he’s also apparently gone insane in his final moments, cause he’s hearing Bond, which is impossible, because after all the crap Q has given him in the past six months, the double-oh would be the last one to come save him. “Q, I need you to look at me.” Q keeps his head down.
“Go ‘way. Busy dyin’.” There’s a soft snort and it makes his heart clench, cause that’s most definitely something Bond does whenever Q’s said something that amuses him.
“Q, come on, look up.” There’s a hand under his chin and his face is being tilted upwards, so he let’s his eyes open into slits and he can make out the blurry figure in front of him that might be James Bond, but he’s not sure, because his glasses are still missing. “That’s better. Can’t walk, can you?” Q tries shrugging, because he honestly doesn’t know, but that’s when his body decides to get feeling back and he’s suddenly doubling over in pain, because he hurts everywhere. “Shit! M, we’re going to need a medevac.” Q feels a pair of hands on him and voice telling him that he needs to stay awake, that they’ll be out of there soon, but the pain is just too much.
He blacks out.
-
You’re the only thing in this world
I would die without
-
It’s a whole five months after the kidnapping ordeal before he’s allowed back in Q-Branch.
He spent the first two weeks of it still in the hospital, mostly because the doctors were worried that he wouldn’t be all completely there as a result of being tortured. But when he starts loudly bitching for a cup of Earl Grey every morning, much to the amusement of whomever happens to be by his bedside that morning (usually Bond), they decide that he can be released, with strict orders to see MI6’s psychologist before he returns to work. He mutters something about that being a given, but he’s just so damn glad to be going home that he doesn’t argue with them.
The next four and a half months are a mess of physical therapy (he did spend two and half weeks in bed, according to Eve, on top of getting his arse royally kicked), a ridiculous amount of psych evaluations (he hacked his file after the first few to see what had been written and he got a good laugh out of it when it said that he was showing a Bond-like cynicism for everything), nightmares (he really should’ve seen them coming, but he’s learning to deal with them as best he can), and James Bond following him around like a lost puppy. The latter is a development that both disturbs and excites him, because he remembers thinking that he was going to die without being able to fix the mess that he made out of him and Bond. So when James shoves him down on the couch halfway through his recovery period and kisses him like the world is about to blow up, Q does the right thing this time and kisses him back.
(They also fall off the couch soon after that, because they’re a pair of fully-grown men trying to make out on what is actually a loveseat masquerading as a couch.)
James sees him down to his office personally, mostly because he hasn’t left Q’s side since he woke up in that hospital bed and because he also needs to be outfitted to go save 003’s arse in Peru, because her mission is about to go belly up. Once they’re in the quartermaster’s office, Q makes a beeline for the drawer where he keeps the spares of Bond’s gun, because he learned early on that it would be easier to have multiples on hand instead of having to remake them every time one wasn’t returned.
“Here’s your gun. I’d say return it, but that would be asking for a miracle.” He pulls a radio out of the drawer above that. “Radio. Again, I don’t expect to see it after this, but it would be nice.” James smirks as he takes both things from him.
“What, no orders about me coming back?” Q rolls his eyes, but takes a second to answer as he tugs a large case out from behind his desk where he had stored it months ago.
“No, because you have this terrible habit of coming back no matter what. This,” He holds up the case, “is a sniper rifle with a heat seeking scope. From what M told us, you’ll need it. Now, if you don’t return this, I’ll have Eve bring me your head on a platter and we’ll see just how well your resurrections skills hold up to that.” Bond takes the case from the quartermaster and places it on the desk so that he can give the contents a once over before closing it and placing it back on the floor.
“Anything else? More chastising about I don’t return you your toys?” Q takes a heavy breath, before stepping forward to brush a nonexistent piece of lint off the double-oh and to fix his already straight suit jacket.
“Just come back. I’m terrible at writing anything that isn’t code, so I’d have to foster the obituary off onto Eve and she’d write an even worse one than the old M did. So do yourself a favor and come back.” James’s smirk softens to a smile and he nods. But then Tanner pops his head in the room, telling Bond he’s heading out in five, and whatever James was going to say is lost behind the fact that both he and Q need to drop back into their rolls of field agent and exasperated quartermaster.
Bond leaves the room without a goodbye, only taking a second after Tanner leaves to press a quick kiss into the mop that Q calls hair, and then he’s gone. Q smiles at the closing door once he knows that the field agent can’t see him, before turning back to his computer and opening communications with 003.
Might as well keep her alive until Bond can get there and do that himself.