Chapter Text
“ You put a lot of trust in him, are you sure that’s wise? ” Moneypenny muses on the phone as Q is driving slowly in the dark along the unpaved road towards the safehouse. On the outside, it’s just a quaint, old cottage on the outskirts of St Albans, a small village about an hour north of London. On the inside, it is one of the three top secret safehouses that are equipped with the newest safety- and information technology, stocked for extensive stay and fortified against every imaginable threat. After Silva’s personal vendetta against the previous M turned deadly, Mallory had quietly assigned a team of specialists, including Q-branch staff, to prepare for the eventuality that someone needed to be hidden from the eyes and ears of even their own people. Q had signed the report on the finished project only a couple of months ago.
The existence of these houses, designed to be the places to hide the nation’s most important assets at a time of crisis, is kept strictly on a need-to-know basis – unlike the locations of the regular safehouses which every active field agent memorises. Q is sending Bond and two civilians into one of them without any kind of permission. Moneypenny is right to be concerned.
“Yes,” Q admits. “He’s earned it, don’t you think? We’ve judged him a bit harshly, and maybe for a good reason, but he always comes through in the end.” Q sighs, and adds thoughtfully, “I don’t think there’s anyone else besides you and him right now I could count on.”
“ I hope you’re right. Not that I doubt his integrity, but rather his motives. What does he stand to gain from getting involved? ”
“I never took you for a cynic, Eve. What if he just wants to be helpful? Besides, he owes me a favour or three.”
“ Q, dear, I’m not being cynical. I’m your friend. I’m concerned. As glad as I am to see he’s still here, still in our team… a car, Q? Really? He’s too good at playing you. It’s a dangerous game where nobody wins. Not even James himself. Just look at his track record. ”
“He didn’t ask for the car, never even hinted at it. I fixed it because it was an interesting project, and in a way, it still belonged to him. That’s beside the point, regardless. He’s deferring to me on this. I’m hardly a Bond girl , Eve,” Q says sharply, now peeved at her in addition to being vaguely anxious. “It’s none of your business anyway.”
“ None of my– ” There’s a silence of a few seconds at Eve’s end; clearly she’s taken offence at his sharp tone. It wasn’t his intention, and more important, very counterproductive at this point. Q tries again in a slightly apologetic tone.
“I’m here at the house now. I promise I’ll call you again when I know they’re alright and what exactly happened. Will you help me soften Mallory?”
“ Fine, I’ll wait and start cooking up a battle plan. Bye. ”
Moneypenny hangs up on him. She sounds still a bit miffed, but at least she’s still co-operating. Q sighs in relief, then tenses again as he pulls up on the drive to park behind the house next to a big Rover he doesn’t recognise. The unfamiliar car sets off alarms in his mind. This is not the time to dwell on managing to piss off Eve, he tells himself, and tries to concentrate.
He curses under his breath as he walks up to the door and pulls a small, pocket-size taser out of his bag, bringing it ready behind his back. If they’ve been forced to abandon the Aston, who knows what else has gone wrong. Maybe it’s not just Bond and his charges waiting here. Maybe it’s not them at all.
He stumbles back as the door opens before he’s even had a chance to knock. Q reacts on instinct. Danny stares at him wide-eyed.
“Again? You’re a trigger-happy pair, aren't you?”
“This isn’t a gun,” Q says, halting his movement just in time and putting the taser away. “Where’s Bond?”
“Patching up Scottie. I don’t think he’s badly hurt, but…” Q pushes past him and yanks the door closed, reactivating the alarm system as he enters.
“What if he needs a proper doctor?” Danny continues, “He was beaten and drugged and almost hanged. If we take him to a hospital, they’ll…”
He calms Danny’s concern, anxious to be updated on their situation but determined to tackle their issues in good order.
“No, no, no, Bond’s quite capable. He’ll know if there’s a cause for concern.”
Q makes his way into the spacious common room, carefully taking stock of his surroundings while shedding his coat and scarf and dropping them, along with his bag, haphazardly on an armchair. Everything seems to be in order, but Bond and Scottie are nowhere to be seen. They must be in the bathroom, so there are likely injuries that need cleaning with soap, water and disinfectant. Stitches and bandages, possibly. He decides Bond can take care of all that and turns back to Danny, intending to question him, when his eyes land on the kitchen table. A pile of Bond's equipment is laid out on it next to his bag that sits open on a chair. There’s the handgun he recognises as Bond’s extra, and a stack of the DB5’s papers including the gadget manual. Q swallows hard and forces his thoughts elsewhere.
“Tell me what happened,” he urges Danny. “In detail, please.”
Danny recounts the rescue and car chase quickly, and Q is rather impressed by his precise and unshaken accounting of the events. He tells him so.
“Well, I’ve practised,” Danny says, his expression closing off somewhat as he gestures towards Bond’s general direction. “Can’t let feelings get in the way, wasn’t that what he said?”
“Hmm. Don’t know if he meant it that literally but,” Q murmurs, “most people just can’t compartmentalise very well. Certain agents included.”
Bond emerges from the bathroom, supporting the still half-dozing Scottie, and sits him on the sofa. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the sight of Q.
“You made better time than I expected, even with a cheat I assume you had for the traffic lights. Your lead foot might rival mine.”
“I expect I just left earlier than you thought. Got on the road as soon as we lost contact.”
Bond looks sceptical, and Q can’t stop a little smile from breaking out.
“And also, yes, I cheated the lights.”
Danny stares at him, shock at the idea of his prim and proper cousin cheating at anything apparent in the expression.
“And I might have broken the speed limit. Slightly.”
Bond’s answering grin is positively gleeful, and it takes conscious effort for Q to tamp down the feeling it stirs in his gut. Their banter has roused Scottie, who is giving him a considering look. He's clearly still muddled, but between Q's similarity to Danny and Bond's easy banter, it's clear that Scottie knows who he is, and he shifts forward on the couch to extend a hand to greet Q.
“Pleased to meet you, Quartermaster. Scottie Palmer,” he introduces himself slurring the words only slightly. What the handshake lacks in strength, he makes up for in a genuine effort. He smiles, yet the former spy’s eyes sharpen critically as he assesses what he sees. Q likes him on instinct.
“My pleasure,” Q replies as he lets his eyes wander over Scottie’s half-sitting form.
They have changed Scottie into clean clothes provided by the house. Of the few visible injuries on him, the most troubling seems to be to his neck, where a long bandage covers what Q suspects is a deep abrasion, judging by the bruising already starting to darken around the edges. There’s also a small gash on his forehead and a few bruises here and there, but overall Scottie seems to have escaped with surprisingly minor physical damage. The drugs he was given are clearly still in his system and affecting his coherence. He appears to be once again losing his battle to stay alert, his eyes losing focus as he settles back onto the couch.
“What is this place?” Bond asks, letting his gaze sweep over the room. “I’ve never seen it on any secure properties lists. Or even heard of it.”
“As you shouldn’t have,” Q says. “Don’t take it personally. I’ll explain later.”
“How long until the sedative wears off?” Danny asks Bond, as he sits down next to Scottie, but Q beats him to the answer.
“Depends on what he was given and how much, but recovery from conscious sedation is usually pretty quick… I’d give it a couple of hours until he’s fully functional.”
Bond walks around the couch and places himself next to Q, between the door and everyone in the room. He faces Scottie and Danny as he speaks, but the words are first and foremost to Q.
“It’ll take us at least that long to make a solid plan for what we need to do next, and I don’t like the thought of leaving them here on their own,” Bond says, “I hope you made arrangements to spend the night.”
Q blinks. He hadn’t thought of that at all. He’s not sure if he likes the idea or not. Well, at least he’d fed the cats before leaving.
“I take it you already have an idea for the next steps figured out then?”
Bond nods. “I think we should interview the Turners. According to Danny and Scottie, they cannot be alone in their campaign. They, or possibly just Frances – seem to be able to pull some rather significant strings. It seems like a lot of effort, and an unnecessary risk. Perhaps Frances is guilty of nothing but being a bad mother, and traumatised by having already gone through one public scandal. Or, she could be in on her son’s disappearance… We need to find out how much she knows and where those strings lead. It’s not possible to pull off something like replacing a dead body without help in the right places. Either way, this goes beyond the Turner family. We should decide how to approach them.”
Danny doesn’t outright challenge the idea that his interpretation on Frances’ role might be misguided, and that surprises Q. It looks like their readiness to take on his quest – even if it is more for the sake of national security than to rescue Alex – has convinced Danny to trust the help they are offering. Given that they are doing it at the risk of severe professional consequences, it should be bloody warranted, Q thinks, but trusting people has never been easy for Danny either.
“Aaron – I mean, Q. And, ah, Mr Bond. I have an idea.” Danny hesitates on how to address them, and Bond smiles. It looks real enough, but to Q it brings to mind Bond in a mission mode. He’s putting up an accommodating, almost seductive front that’s meant to put people at ease and inspire trust. And that last bit he believes to be completely genuine. Bond does want Danny to relax enough to let go of the formality and speak his mind even when he’s not being defensive.
“Just call me James, Danny,” Bond says, and Danny snorts at the agent's attempt to charm him, bringing a more genuine smile to Bond's face as he continues, “What do you have in mind?”
It comes as no surprise that Danny, with his history and intuition, sees through Bond’s well-practised act. Q's first reaction is a flash of amusement as Bond's charm fails to work, but it’s quickly replaced by something akin to jealousy. He knows there's more to it than a sort of bitter envy at Bond having offered Danny the use of his first name — a privilege Q has never been granted... It's more to do with the fact that Danny sees Bond. Q had always seen the man, not just the agent or his public facade, and had always valued him for himself. And Bond had known it. Known that Q's regard for him was singular. Except, now it wasn't. The thought leaves him feeling strangely bereft.
“I could go. I know the place and I’ve met all those people. They know me —or think they do. Think they know what to expect from me, and it isn't subterfuge. They expect me to be taken in by their lies, not to lie to them. That might be something that works to our advantage."
Bond — James — looks interested in hearing more.
"You think you can get her to open up?"
"Maybe. Not about politics or anything, but maybe about Alex. She… I don’t know, I got a feeling that she genuinely regretted parts of what they did to him. She seemed absolutely convinced of his death. Her grief seemed to be authentic. She was so hell bent on putting it behind them, acting composed and aloof like she wanted to forcefully distance herself from the pain," he pauses and looks thoughtful before continuing, "I think that's why she contacted me. Why she tried to trick me into believing those people were his parents. So that I'd let it all go. Let it fade away where she'd never have to face it again." His contemplative look fades and he focuses on them again. "She’s hiding more than her guilt for being a bad mother, I’m sure of it. I think she believes she’s responsible for his death. If I reveal something that upsets her, she might in turn reveal things to me.”
Bond is clearly very intrigued by the idea, and it makes Q distinctly uncomfortable.
"Hmm. That could work. If we frame Danny's revelation as something that makes her want to collaborate… try to do right by Alex's memory. I’d go in as a backup, of course.”
Q doesn’t like that idea one bit, but Bond – James seems to be approving of Danny’s suggestion wholeheartedly. It irritates Q for some reason. Bond had agreed to follow his lead, but instead he feels like he’s being crowded out of the discussion and decision-making. He’d made it a point to stay professional despite the private and personal nature of this mission. And now there’s Danny, who's on a first name basis with Bond and hatching insane ideas together with him, recklessly putting himself in danger in the process. On top of the petty jealousy, Q’s worried that he’s losing control and something terrible will happen. And it’ll all be his fault.
“Absolutely not,” he says flatly.
“Why not?” Bond counters, “Think about it: Danny’s already familiar with the place and the people, they’re less likely to turn him away on sight. I’d be right there, close by if something goes wrong. You could arm him with some of your tricks.”
“Double-O-Seven”, Q enunciates in his most cutting, professional tone, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we will eventually answer to MI6 for this action, and involving civilians will not go over well.”
Danny frowns. “I’m already involved. I don’t think anyone can deny that, and one way or another MI6 is already responsible.”
Bond steps closer to Q, then, and gently pulls him by the arm towards the door.
“Step outside with me for a moment, Quartermaster,” he says pointedly, but not unkindly. “I need to have a word with you.”
Baffled, Q hastily grabs the coat that he’d just shed and lets Bond tug him along. They face each other on the porch under the overhead lights. His face is illuminated, Bond’s cast in sharp shadows from the light shining behind him. It doesn’t escape Q’s notice that it must be intentional.
“I think it’s best if you and I talk this over first.”
“Fine. Your penchant for attracting helping hands that end up as collateral damage won’t extend to my family,” Q grinds out, taking a deep breath to calm himself before continuing.
“I called Eve,” he informs Bond. “She agreed with your idea about involving M and consequently, Tanner. She didn’t agree with me having involved you in the first place, though. Especially without going through M first. This habit of yours is precisely why.”
The trademark smirk appears briefly at the mention of Eve supporting his idea, but vanishes from Bond’s face at the last remark. Q can’t help but be a little amused.
“Well, I did always trust your judgement to be more sound than hers, after all you’ve only ever threatened to shoot me,” Bond quips. The brief glimpse of discomfort on his face gives it away as the deflection it is, and Q’s amusement fades.
“I told her I'd call again once I made sure you were all safe and had some idea of what happened after I lost contact. I gave her the information I had so she could talk to Mallory and she said she would do so. All we can do is present ideas for approval, and those ideas won't involve my civilian cousin.”
“Have your searches yielded anything?” Bond asks, apparently – surprisingly – having understood the futility of arguing the matter. He’ll probably bring it up again later, but Q hopes Mallory will have the decency to say no.
“I did pick two or three interesting trails out of the lot. Turns out one of the criminal reporters who wrote about the case against Danny knew Denbigh personally. Maybe it's a coincidence. Maybe it’s not. And I had another thought: what if Danny was wrong and Frances Turner is, in fact, a very good actor? I’m looking for possible connections between Frances Turner and the Coroner’s Office. If she knows Alex is alive, she must have had something to do with framing his death, and like you said, it’d be impossible alone. ”
“So, what do we tell Danny and Scottie?”
“We’ll tell them that Six will handle it. Mission specifics are up to M, anyway. Who and how will be his decisions, not our choice. They’re needed at the meeting, and after that they’re going to need protection. It’s really not in my hands if they can stay here or if they will be relocated somewhere else,” Q says, then sighs. “I still wonder if we might be giving too much control away by making this a sanctioned op.”
Bond gives him a peculiar, intense look. Q can feel it more than see it, but it sends pinpricks of electricity all over his skin.
“Now you know what it’s like when a mission turns personal,” Bond says, and the uneasy feeling of being seen through washes over him again.
“To keep it from becoming personal, and to avoid involving civilians in an op at all, it's best that we proceed with the idea that you will be questioning the Turners. You'll need a cover if you're going to get anywhere with them,” Q responds. “Given that Frances despises MI6, I doubt she’d talk to an agent, even if she might benefit from it.” Q thinks for a while, formulating an idea. “I suppose we could try assuming she works for someone with a related agenda who controls her to some extent, and send you in as their enforcer, to get proof of continuing loyalty after she’s been in recent contact with Danny… but it’s going to be tricky not knowing who she’s working with… and how much she really knows about us.”
“Or I could pose as Danny’s contact? A reporter? Or private detective, perhaps… Danny would probably know which avenue would be best, or have another idea altogether. Let’s ask him what he thinks might work, shall we?”
Bond heads back inside and Q is left a bit adrift in his wake. He’s not quite sure what he’s more worried about: giving too much control of their investigation over to Six, or giving too much control of ….everything, including his sanity, to Bond. He can’t stop thinking about the note. He’d half-expected Bond to address it just now.
Danny casts a long look at him as he follows Bond back inside. Q wonders briefly about how Danny sees him these days, and if there will be any space for them to properly connect again, but for the time being, he lets his attention drift back to Bond and his many questions.
Bond interviews Danny about his visit at the Turner estate and Q finds and analyses satellite images and blueprints of the property, aided by Danny’s descriptions of the interior spaces. He describes the workings of the agent’s wireless earpiece and hidden body cam, explaining that while Bond goes in, they can follow his progress and exchange relevant information back and forth in real time. Scottie appears to be more coherent and cognizant of things around him, as he seems particularly fascinated with modern spy technology and peppers them both with questions. It's nearing 10 pm when they put a halt to the conversation for a chance to finally eat something.
Not feeling like talking with Eve at the moment, Q sends her a text, and she gives him the time for a meeting with M and Tanner the next day. Contrary to his prior plans, the meeting is set up at the safehouse rather than taking Danny and Scottie in to MI6. Up to this point, Q had hoped he might have been able to slip away after their plans had been settled. But this development effectively traps him into spending the night here with Bond and their guests.
He should be supervising an explosives experiment back at Q-branch in the morning. In all of the excitement, he’d almost forgotten. And that’s only the first few hours of a very busy day. If Moneypenny hasn’t performed miracles, he’s going to be in trouble. She might have , though. If she isn’t too cross with him over the phone conversation.
Everything’s messed up because of this stupid thing about Bond. He needs to get his mind back on track. It’s frustrating. He catches himself following Bond with his gaze time and time again as the agent puts his cooking skills to good use and creates a passable late supper almost out of thin air. He watches in amazement as the few dry ingredients available transform into cheese rolls and hot, spicy soup. Q hadn’t known Bond could cook like that. Is there anything this modern version of a renaissance man can’t do?
Of course, he also notes Danny taking notice, and that makes him force his thoughts elsewhere.
After they have eaten, Q washes the dishes, while Bond digs through the first aid cabinet and hands out an assortment of pills to Scottie. The two agents, former and currently active, seem to have easily found common ground discussing the various changes MI6 has been through since Scottie had been forced out. Then, Bond proceeds to familiarise himself with the weaponry and safety measures the house offers.
Dishes done and Scottie settled for the night, Q shuts himself into the basement room that houses most of the valuable tech. He finishes his daily searches on his own laptop but finds nothing interesting. He tells himself it’s good, that maybe the interest these people have in Danny and Alex is beginning to wane. Maybe they’re becoming complacent in the belief that they have done enough damage to render the threat Danny poses irrelevant. But he can’t even convince himself; they had just tried to kill Scottie, who is only tangentially involved.
The car crash is, predictably, on all the local news feeds. Three people from two crashed vehicles are dead, and there is debate over what happened to the third car that may or may not have been actively involved in the incident. It requires a fair bit of work to alter some of the news coverage slightly and make some of the clearer footage from the crash site disappear.
After he’s done, he runs a query on the owner of the Rover Bond had borrowed. The trail leads him to a conclusion that the couple owning the property have two days left of a holiday in Bali until their scheduled return flight to London, which gives them one extra day. He can take a look at the DB5 before they need to remove it from the garage, although he’s pretty sure it can be safely driven back to Six for a proper fix.
His back aches, and it forces him to stretch the stiffened muscles. That’s when he becomes aware of the passage of time. It must be well past midnight when he gets up and quietly pads up the narrow stairs. Lights are out, save for the one over the kitchen counter and a thin sliver of light that falls across the hallway through the crack of the door in one of the bedrooms. He supposes it’s the one they’ve left for him. He’s going to make himself a cup of tea, find some clothes to sleep in and then try to shut his mind off.
His plan is interrupted by Danny as he’s just filled the kettle and turned it on. Danny, dressed in the ugly standard-issue sleep pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt the safehouses stock, walks up to him and rests his elbows on the counter. He looks past Q into the darkness outside the window and doesn’t say anything for a while.
When he breaks the silence, he keeps his voice low, and turns to meet Q's gaze.
“I never realised you were gay, too. I got it all wrong.”
A statement of his sexuality hasn’t bothered Q for years. He’s been out since Uni and had the privilege of growing up in an open minded, academic family that always cared more about his talented mind than the quirks that made him ill-fitted for the traditional male stereotype. Still, Danny’s words give him pause.
“How did you… Did he say that?”
“James? No.” Danny shrugs. “I don’t know how I missed it earlier, it’s kind of obvious. I meant to apologise. If I’d known back then…”
“I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen. I didn’t out you on purpose or to hurt you. Mom was worried sick. Hell, your mom was worried. I had to tell them where to find you. I didn’t realise your dad would…”
“Can we just leave it? I wanted to apologise, not dig up all that old shit. I’m done with all of it. I’m done with them .”
“All right. If that’s what you want. I’m glad we can talk, though.” He looks at Danny, and it feels good to be able to face each other openly after such a long time. “I’m glad to have you back in my life, despite the circumstances.”
“Right.” Danny clears his throat, and for a second it looks like he might cry. He shakes it off and says, “I’m glad I called you. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have anyone left right now, not even Scottie. Everyone would be dead or gone because of me. So thank you.”
“You’re exaggerating. We’ll find Alex. Then a lot of things will make more sense, I’m sure of it. Do you want a cup of tea?”
Danny nods and Q gets him a mug.
“Are the two of you together?”
The question startles him and almost makes him spill the tea before he can hand the cup to Danny.
“Uh, no... I don’t think that’s–” He cuts himself off before he says anything more stupid.
“What, proper MI6 protocol?” Danny laughs at him, but it’s a soft huff without malice.
“Any of your business.” A slight grin tugs at the corner of his mouth without his consent. This feels oddly like time has moved back twenty years.
“Could have fooled me. You can’t get your eyes off him. What’s stopping you?”
“Common sense.”
“He’s straight, you mean?”
“It’s not quite that simple. I wish it was. I care about him, I worry about him… I respect and admire him. He’s infuriating to work with, to the point of driving me bonkers.” He shakes his head and looks down, sure that he’s sporting an embarrassing blush. “Working with him is like trying to contain a natural disaster, but a delight all the same. He can be a good friend occasionally, when he wants to. That’s all it’s ever going to be, and that’s fine. That’s enough. Pushing it would just make things… difficult.”
Danny looks unconvinced, even a bit disappointed, and for some reason that doesn’t sit very well with Q. He doesn’t need Danny of all people thinking his social skills are completely pathetic.
“Listen to yourself, Aaron, that’s just sad. Does he even know? Don’t tell me you haven’t even–”
“I’ve done enough!” Q struggles not to raise his voice. It’s not the time to get defensive. “He’s a bloody spy, he doesn’t need me to spell it out for him. Which I did, actually. I left him a note in his car. I should have thought better of it. Alas, my own mistake, so I’ll deal with it. We’re fine.”
“You're not fine” Danny replies. “What did he do? About the note?”
"The same thing he always does when I suggest something he doesn’t like. He completely ignores it. Now, it's late, and we've a meeting in the morning so we should go try to get some sleep. Let's please just just forget all this and go to bed, ok?”
Danny relents, takes his half-finished his cup and ambles away into the hallway. Q feels a bit unsettled despite the relief of clearing the air between them. To steer the conversation and his mind back to safer waters until morning, he calls after Danny.
“We’ll find him. Alex. It’s going to be okay.”
“I know,” Danny replies as he closes his bedroom door.