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Q thunked down his pint of cider. “Moneypants, I think they were flirting with me.” Moneypenny laughed. “They flirt with everything that moves. They even flirt with Gladys at the canteen.” “I doubt they want me to give them second helpings of cottage pie. No, I think they meant something else. They took me out for ravioli.” Moneypenny's drink stuttered on the way to her berry-glazed lips. “Mama's?” He fiddled with his glass and nodded. She gasped. “They've never taken anyone there. I had to pry the address out of them for my sister's graduation. I had to do their forms for a month and promise to never tell where I heard about the place.” Q sighed. “That’s what I thought.” “Q, they may like you.” “They may want new toys.” Faint hope but worth saying. “No, Q, I think they truly like you.” Q took a drink and resolved to not think about it again tonight. Moneypenny read his face and decided to leave it be for now. “Did you hear Chris in HR had three meetings with Nat in IT?” Q perked up. “Nat, who always wears green trousers? Who is Chris?” Their night continued on a lighter note. They left the pub while pleasantly tipsy and parted ways.
Q decided to dig at work the next morning. Research and data accumulation had been his life since before he hacked in and left a résumé. He started by reviewing mission reports. Had there been any significant change in behavior after getting together? Fortunately, he made sure records were digitized when he started. It was one of his first big fights with Finance that he won. It was easy enough to call up aggregate data and set parameters. After analyzing for an hour, he had a result. Their behavior hadn’t changed significantly in the past seven years, before they got together and after.
He blinked a bit at how long they had been 00s. He made a note to verify average length of 00 tenure. He suspected he wouldn’t like the answer.
The data laid the facts out. There were fewer disasters when they were on mission together. Fewer civilian casualties, fewer cars destroyed, even less structural damage. That was surprising. It felt like there were more explosions when they were on mission together. He frowned at that.
He decided to try Medical’s information. James mentioned Medical had their relationship documented at dinner. This information was harder to pull as he was not in the Medical chain of command and the system knew it. He framed it as reviewing ratios of agents reporting injuries against injuries in mission reports. He was hunting discrepancies. For documentation. Bingo. Time to find out if Medical ever had to call one in for the other. This took more digging than he liked. Yes. Three times.
The head injury Trevelyan had. Medical called in Bond when Trevelyan was aggressive and uncooperative. Trevelyan allowed them to examine him when Bond was in the room. Refused to let them near before.
The nasty ankle injury Bond had that turned septic. Trevelyan brought Bond back in when the infection turned bad. He claimed to be helping take care of Bond when he noticed the fever spiked. Medical nodded, thanked him, and moved on.
Finally, Covid. They came in together, both terribly ill. Q sat back in his chair and sipped his tea. He did not get time to think about the new data.
Tanner came into Q branch with a purpose. That was never good. “The HSE has had words with us about too much continuous work. You were on shift for nineteen hours straight twice last week. You’re required to take the afternoon off. Now, shoo.” Q made a face and blinked. “Excuse me? I am the Quartermaster of MI6. I do not shoo.” Tanner nodded, “You do now. Off you pop.”
Q was indignant but secretly glad. He gave R direction to call him if needed. Q gathered his satchel and made his way to Brixton on the Tube. There was a bookstore he read reviews about named Book Mongers. He opened the door and smelled the vanilla of old books. Perfect. He wandered the stacks for some time. Looking at beautiful covers and remembering the first time he read some of them. Q gathered a small stack when he reached the counter. There was a surprise. James and Alec. James was chatting with the bookseller, apparently picking up a book order. They didn’t notice Q. James was dressed casually in a sweater and worn jeans. Alec was standing next to him in trainers, jeans, and a brown leather jacket. James’ conversation ended, and the bookseller greeted Q. Alec and James looked surprised. They smiled at Q. James asked, “Playing hooky today?” “Not quite. Needed to take the afternoon off. Too much overtime.” “I’m not surprised, druzhok. You are always there.” “I like what I do.” He turned to the bookseller. “Good afternoon. Any chance you have a copy of Emma?” The bookseller smiled. “I do, young man. The three-volume edition.” “Delightful.” Q paid cash for his books. The three men chatted for a bit while the bookseller wrapped the books. She smiled to herself. She saw how the boys looked at Q. “Here you are.” “Thank you.” Q took the package. “Have a good afternoon, gentlemen.” They nodded and smiled as Q left.
Q picked up some groceries and headed home. Cadbury met him at the door. He was not here at regular time. He smelled bad. She was starving. Much to say. Mars was reserved, still on the back of the couch, just watching.
The cats got there through the cat distribution system. Cadbury showed up one day on the front stoop. Mewed at him and that was that. Mars walked right in his front door and hopped up on the tree. Q accepted his fate.
Q gave both treats, fixed a cuppa, and assembled a plate of snacks. He settled into his reading nook, Emma in hand. Cadbury gave the book a thorough sniff and settled into Q’s lap. Mars retook the couch. Q read until the light faded.