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It had been two months since 007 had disappeared and six weeks since he’d been declared dead. The mission was supposed to be short, three days in Bucharest gathering information on a group illegally selling various weapons and explosives. Things went south on the second day, Q had heard rapid gunshots and yelling before the comms had cut out, leaving him enveloped in oppressive silence. The tracker had gone dark after a few hours and the search had been called off two weeks later.
During the first two weeks Q had designed a new type of tracker, a kind of nanotechnology that could stay in an agent's bloodstream indefinitely. It would be activated by body heat and almost impossible to shut off. He had finished the prototype sometime in the first month after James had been declared dead but hadn’t actually had anyone test it yet. In fact, he hadn’t even mentioned it to anyone else.
After the completion of the new tracker, Q had spent subsequent weeks working on various other projects, spending much more time than normal at MI6, trying to avoid the flat at all costs. Everything there had become a painful reminder; the potted plant on the windowsill, the calendar hung up in the kitchen with notes scribbled on it in red pen, James’ favourite coat hanging over the back of a chair in the kitchen.
At some point in the past few weeks Q had taken to sleeping on the living room sofa, figuring out it was easier to sleep there than in the bed which felt far too cold and far too big for one person. There was also the problem of the picture he kept on his bedside table. It was a photo from their holiday to Greece two years ago. A stranger had taken it for them, they were standing in front of the sea, James had an arm wrapped tightly around Q’s waist and they were both smiling brightly at the camera, the bright midday sun reflecting off the water behind them.
For the past six weeks he had felt almost completely detached from the world at large, he felt as though he had been hollowed out, he had taken a backseat in his own life, simply watching listlessly as things happened to and around him without feeling like an active participant, the lack of sleep causing days and nights to blur into one another almost seamlessly.
Worse than the feelings of detachment were the bouts of irrepressible anger at himself for not noticing anyone close to James in the building, he had run through that day hundreds of times, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong, what he could’ve done differently. More irrationally, the anger was sometimes directed at James, for leaving, for letting himself get caught off guard like that.
Six weeks after James had been declared dead, Q found himself sitting at the kitchen table, holding a mug of rapidly cooling tea and staring at the blank wall ahead of him. His thoughts drifted back to the day James had left for the mission, Q had handed over his equipment for the mission and told him to “bring it all back in one piece” to which James had replied “of course.”
He’d never regretted their tradition of not saying goodbye before James left for missions until now. He breathed out sharply, feeling tears sting his eyes and a lump form in his throat. He blinked the tears back, sure that if he started crying he’d never be able to stop and pushed himself away from the table, pouring the lukewarm tea down the sink and picking up his messenger bag.
Everyday was the same; wake up, drink tea, have breakfast if he thought he could stomach it, leave for work far too early, come home as late as possible and sleep on the sofa. It seemed impossible that the world could’ve kept spinning when Q felt like it had ended six weeks ago, everything after that some sort of cruel nightmare.
He arrived at Q-Branch an hour earlier than necessary, walking quickly past the few people already working. He found the lingering pity on their faces almost unbearable and preferred to spend most days locked in his office, maybe that was worsening the detachment, now that he was thinking about it.
Q sat down heavily at his desk, pulling out his laptop to choose something to start working on. He spent a few moments scrolling through blueprints for various potential projects before one he’d drawn up a few months ago caught his eye. The blueprint for the exploding pen that he’d started designing a few weeks before James had left for the mission, he’d planned for it to be an anniversary gift. James had spent ages at the start of their relationship badgering him for one.
Q shut his eyes tight against the sudden influx of tears, his effort was fruitless and they spilled over onto his cheeks anyway. The more tears rushed down his face, the more he felt the situation really dawn on him. He’d never see James again, they’d never spend another lazy morning in bed, never get to go on that trip to Paris they’d been talking about for months and Q would never get to give him that stupid exploding pen.
The thought only served to make him cry harder, his breaths coming choked and his entire body beginning to shake. He slammed his laptop shut, the damage had already been done but he couldn’t stand to look at the blueprint a moment longer. Q removed his glasses and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears to no avail.
He realised belatedly that this was the first time he’d properly cried in the last six weeks. He’d hoped it wouldn’t happen, though he supposed it was probably inevitable. He eventually felt the tears begin to slow and took a deep breath, shoving his laptop back into his bag and steeling himself to walk back through Q-branch, which had no doubt become a lot busier since he’d first arrived.
He pushed the chair he was sitting in back and stood up, steadying himself with hands braced on his desk. When the feeling of lightheadedness had subsided he stood up straight, wiping his damp face with the sleeves of his jumper before swinging the door to his office open.
Walking back through Q-Branch, now filled with people working on prototypes and computer code, felt more surreal than usual, all the noise blurring into one continuous, seemingly deafening buzz. He walked with his head down, watching as his feet moved across the floor, seemingly without any input from him.
Once he’d left Q-Branch he kept walking, making a beeline for the building's entrance. For the first time since that day he actually wanted to go back to the flat. The journey on the tube somehow managed to feel worse than usual, the droning background noise and crowds of people brushing against him as he walked made his skin crawl.
He pushed open the door to the flat, dropped his bag on the floor and sat down heavily next to it, pulling his knees up towards his chest and resting his forehead against them. He’d have to email M or Eve and take the time off that he’d been offered, he doubted he’d be getting any more work done for the foreseeable future.
He stood slowly on shaking legs and walked towards the living room, pushing the door open. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, staring wide-eyed at the figure sitting on the sofa.
“What the fuck?” Q could feel his hands shaking as he stepped into the living room and slammed the door shut behind him, stalking over to stand in front of James. “I brought the gun back,” James gestured, smiling, at the coffee table where his Walther was sitting, in four separate pieces.
“You must be kidding,” Q sighed, the half-smile dropped from James’ face and he leant forward slightly as if to interrupt. “I don’t care about the bloody gun,” he continued, feeling frustrated tears well in his eyes.
He turned away abruptly and walked into the kitchen, needing to clear his head for a moment. He heard James get up to follow him and the thought of leaving the flat altogether flashed through his mind.
Q leant against one of the kitchen chairs, feeling the shaking move from his hands through the rest of his body as he fought to keep the tears at bay.
He felt a warm hand between his shoulder blades, “I meant to come back sooner,” James murmured quietly. Q felt the anger from earlier flood back, he whipped around and shoved James away from him, hard. “You are fucking unbelievable,” he spat, glaring at James through tears, “You let me think you were- you vanish for two months and then you come back acting like everything’s fine,” he felt his breath catch and the tears he’d been desperately holding back begin to escape.
Q buried his face in his hands and dissolved into sobs for the second time that day. “But you had the tracker, surely you’ve known where I was,” Q shook his head, still not looking up at James “the tracker stopped working,” he took a breath before continuing “Everyone thought you were dead.”
James breathed in sharply, stepping forward to wrap his hands around Q’s wrists and pull his hands away from his face. Q didn’t try to resist, feeling as though all the energy had been drained from him. He felt James pull him forward gently and allowed himself to be drawn into a tight embrace by familiar arms.
He leant all his weight on James, feeling himself deflate as the anger dissipated all at once and was replaced by overwhelming relief. He felt James press a gentle kiss to his temple, “I’m sorry, Q. If I’d known about the tracker I’d have tried to get back sooner.”
Q pulled away from the embrace slightly, reaching his hands up to cup James’ face gently, staring into those bright blue eyes he thought he’d never see again, he glanced quickly down at James’ lips and back up.
Q breathed in deeply and moved his hands to grip the collar of James’ shirt, tugging him forward into a searing kiss, their lips met harshly and James tangled his fingers into Q’s hair, tugging slightly. The feeling only increased the relief Q felt, the familiar sensation convincing him this was all really happening.
The warmth radiating between them seemed to intensify as James tightened the arm wrapped around Q’s waist, pressing them impossibly closer together. Q pulled back slightly to catch his breath, closing his eyes for a moment. James’ hands worked their way under his jumper to rest on his lower back, thumbs stroking the skin gently.
Q felt himself smile for the first time in two months and watched as a matching smile spread across James’ face before he was pulled back in for another kiss, gentler this time.
James broke the kiss and grasped the hem of Q’s jumper, pulling it upwards and over his head and tossing it onto the kitchen table before starting to unbutton his own shirt.
The following morning Q woke up to light trickling in through the window, warming the room slightly. He stretched and reached over to the other side of the bed, expecting to find James lying next to him, instead his hand met cold sheets.
Q sat up almost instantly, all the relaxation from moments ago gone as he glanced over to the other side of the bed to see smooth sheets. For a horrible moment, he believed that everything that happened the previous night had been a mirage, something his mind had conjured up to prevent him from breaking down completely.
He felt bile burn the back of his throat as he fought down a wave of nausea, getting out of bed to stand unsteadily, leaving the bedroom and making his way slowly towards the kitchen. He could feel his heart racing, the tightness in chest becoming near unbearable.
Q felt a wave of relief wash over him as he entered the kitchen to see James standing next to the worktop, waiting for the kettle to boil. He glanced over and noticed Q standing in the open doorway, “I would’ve made breakfast but we don’t actually have any food.”
Q breathed a laugh and walked the few steps into the kitchen to wrap James in a hug, sighing against his skin, “Sorry, I haven’t really done any shopping recently,” he felt tears well in his eyes and willed them away, not wanting to cry for the second time since James had come back, especially since things really were okay now.
“Well, we could go out and get something. There’s that café down the street you wanted to go to,” James suggested, pulling himself out of Q’s embrace to look him in the eyes. He frowned slightly upon noticing the tears. Q shook his head, feeling somewhat self-conscious and wiped his eyes with his hands. “Sorry, I’m being ridiculous. I just missed you, quite a lot actually,” he murmured.
James pulled Q back into his arms, running a hand up and down his back “It’s alright. I missed you too,” James mumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. A few moments later, the kettle beeped, signalling it had finished boiling and James turned to pour the water into the waiting mugs.
After letting the tea steep for a few minutes, Q was sat on the sofa, the steaming mug in his hands and James’ arm draped over his shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the skin of Q’s upper arm. The quiet moment was interrupted by Q’s phone ringing, he groaned quietly, setting his tea down and lifting James’ arm from across his shoulders so he could get up to retrieve his phone from his bag.
He answered the call and held the phone up to his ear. “I heard you left early yesterday, how are you doing?” Eve’s voice said through the speaker. Q sighed quietly “I’m fine, actually,” he started before recounting the events of the previous day.
There was a moment of silence after he finished talking, “I’m going to bloody kill him,” Eve muttered quietly. Q giggled slightly before replying “I’d really rather you didn’t. I have just gotten him back after all.” Eve chuckled in response “Let him know he needs to come in as soon as possible. This is going to be a ridiculous amount of paperwork.”
After saying goodbye to Eve and promising to bring James to MI6 at some point later that day he made his way back to the living room. As he entered the room, James looked up at him from where he was lounging on the sofa, a relaxed smile on his face.
Q decided at that moment to wait until after they’d gone for breakfast to remind James that he’d have to go back to MI6 at some point soon to get himself declared no longer dead.
They were on their way to the café when Q brought up the nanotechnology tracker, “You know, while you were away, I made a prototype for a new kind of tracker. It should be pretty much impossible to break, even for you.”