Chapter Text
Q’s immense reluctance to let Alec go without field support is endearing, even if unfounded. Alec prefers to work alone - and his present objective couldn’t be more straightforward.
The whole block plunges into the darkness right on point at 23:11.
Alec moves in the shadows, past the commotion of the security guards waving flashlights in aimless arcs. Instead of using it to sweep the perimeter, they shine beams at each other.
Stupid, but suits Alec just fine.
He turns the corner of the building to discover the emergency exit, locked. The lock is generic and he picks it blind, letting himself in.
Inside, he’s met with the lazy serenity of idle late hour: buzz of chatter and an occasional burst of laughter. Q has orchestrated two blackouts like this during the week – enough for people to see it as a simple inconvenience that is not worth their concern.
Alec pauses and leans against the wall, eyes closing briefly as he’s orienting himself, accessing the plan of the building stored in his memory, deciding on his next move against the measure of time he has.
They have a backup generator, but it’s sufficiently disabled; Alec called in a favour to ensure that. If they have a decent engineer on shift right now, the light will return in twenty minutes; if not, forty. Either way, plenty of time for Alec to finish.
The small flock of Lab Coats passes him, and one of them stumbles into Alec. It’s a woman, and she gives a startled yelp when Alec already steadies her with a hand under her elbow.
“Alright, love?” he rumbles in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own because of the thick Glasgow accent. He heard at least one of the security guys talking like this.
She chirps the apology, giggly and nervous and flits away.
Q pointed out the most possible location of the server room. Since Alec’s top priority is to provide Q access to the system, he heads into the guts of the building. Soon, the corridors grow empty and quiet. Instead of relaxing, Alec goes more alert; he doesn’t expect to meet anyone here, but if that’s the case, he wouldn’t have a chance to mix up with the crowd of idle workers.
He finds a server room exactly where Q predicted. But he also finds the guard who holds the door open and grumbles at somebody inside the room whom Alec cannot see nor hear. Alec presses himself against the far wall, watching.
The time stretches out - seven minutes, by Alec’s internal clock - before the ruffled man emerges into the hallway, brandishing a flashlight. He glares at the guard and continues down the hallway without any remark, muttering under his breath. The guard locks the door and saunters after him.
Alec waits another minute until it’s completely silent. He picks the lock – this one takes a bit more time, and Alec needs to hold a flashlight in his teeth to have the visual. Once inside, he takes one look at the servers to confirm they’re running on battery backup, just as Q predicted they would, and gets to work.
Q explained well what he needed to look for. After the close perusal, Alec plugs the non-descriptive black cube into the server. No more than ten seconds later, his phone vibrates once – a signal from Q. Connection established. He and Moneypenny are stationed in a storage facility a few buildings over.
Just as Alec is about to reverse the lock on the door, the power comes back. These hallways aren’t lit, and his cue is a faint noise of a cheer from elsewhere and cameras whirring to life, lenses refocusing.
He has no reason for concern. His clothes are a close enough resemblance to the patrol uniform to fool cameras, especially in night-vision mode. He casually strolls back toward the more populated areas of the building, careful to keep his face away from cameras blinking their red lights at him. The door can remain unlocked. The second guy didn’t see the guard locking it, and he didn’t seem all that gracious about the guard’s intellect, so he’d surely assume things.
Soon, the lab coats hurry past him to return to their duties. They very much ignore him, and he ignores them. With adrenaline slowly coursing through his veins, Alec eyes the staircase leading to the upper level. He decides to just go for it.
Conveniently, the building is in the dark again by the time he reaches the next floor. It’s a production level, and Alec allows himself another pause to consider the chaotic movements of people who are somewhat befuddled with this play with lights. A fair bunch of them flock back down, and others drift to the communal rooms above. Nobody seems interested in the hallway to his right.
He moves, checking all the doors along the way. The fact that the door opens signals to him that there’s nothing important to use an old-fashioned key together with an electronic safety that’s now disabled. He comes across one closed door and almost picks the look before he hears a weak moan. He huffs. It’s just locked from the inside, then, and somebody uses the free time to its full potential. He moves on. Only the very last corner room is locked. Alec frowns, cross-referencing the layout in his memory. He’d thought this was a supply closet, but the abundance of security measures on the door suggests otherwise. He picks the lock and lets himself in.
He just wants to confirm it’s filing cabinets in there. But then this persistent voice inside his head says that if their suspicions are correct, he can confirm them in the blink of an eye right now. He tries to open the upper cabinet, but it doesn’t give. Locked. To pick it is a child’s play. He doesn’t know why they bother locking it, really.
He shines the light inside to see the neat row of files. He looks at the numbers and letters they are all marked with. Two last numbers of a year, the first letter of a month. He searches his memory for the Q’s odd medical reports, determining the time frame. He had to open the middle cabinet to reach the date.
The power returns.
A shrill wail of alarm pierces the air, a sheer shock for Alec’s ears in the cramped space of the room. He leaves the covers in the cabinet and just plucks a bunch of pages free, folding them and stuffing them into the waistband of his slacks.
He peers outside and sees the man with open trousers emerging from a few doors down, blinking dazedly. Alec whistles and beckons him to approach. The man, torn between confusion, embarrassment and post-coital dumbness, closes the distance obediently.
“Where’s the gal?” Alec asks with a dirty smirk.
The man smiles somewhat proudly and gestures obscurely in the direction of the stairs.
“Perfect,” Alec mutters. In one quick motion, he grabs the man by the front of his shirt and stuffs him in the small room. He slams the door shut and can’t hold back a grin as he hears the locks reengage.
Then he breaks into a run.
***
Alec didn’t know Q was even capable of shouting until two hours later.
They had arranged a meeting point in case something went wrong. Something certainly did, and that’s why Alec headed to a rented flat in Greenwich, generally unbothered.
He flips through the acquired papers, dense with the type of terminology he’s not well versed in, when Q and Eve arrive, and his calm is shattered to pieces.
Q yells at Alec until his voice is hoarse and cracking.
Alec observes, bemused. He sends an occasional inquiring glance toward Eve, but she’s very busy with preparing tea.
“You pigheaded idiot!” Q shouts. “I said just give me bloody access to the system ! Why the fuck did you hobble around after they got the power back once?!”
“But...”
“Don’t give me this shit!” Q interrupted, pointing a finger at him. “You had the clear fucking instruction. You know they got your pretty mug in all its glory now?! Can you guess who they’re going to report a fucking security breach to? ”
Alec wants to defend himself somehow or to reassure Q he’ll lie his way out of it, granted, without speaking the word about Q, but then he understands.
There’s no way for Q to know they got power back briefly and they had caught him on CCTV. No way, except if he’s accessed the internal CCTV already.
Alec grins. “You wiped it all, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did, you big numbskull!”
With this, he jabs Alec in the soft part of his middle – surprisingly powerful and unpleasant for somebody nearly emaciated - and marches out of the flat. The slam of the front door is so forceful the walls tremble in aftershock.
Alec turns to look at Eve, helpless.
“What? You got him worried,” she shrugs.
“That’s a bit over the top. I didn’t catch a single bullet. If he wiped the footage, nobody even saw me except for that bloke I stuffed into the room.”
“Elegant,” Eve praises, saluting him with her cup. “You sabotaged yourself for him. That little misstep could have gotten you killed—just not immediately.”
“I better sabotage myself for him,” Alec raised one shoulder in a jerky motion, uncaring,
Eve’s smile is strange. “And how would he live with that?”
Alec dismisses the thought with a vague wave of his hand. Then gestures towards the front door. “Should I go find him?”
“What was the stuff you’d hidden into your pants?”
“There,” Alec points to the couch. “Complete gibberish to me.”
“I’ll look through it,” Eve nods and slides one steaming mug toward Alec. “Give him tea. Hug him. Do not talk to him!”
“Understood.”
It doesn’t take long to locate Q in the small communal garden just outside the flat. He’s sitting on the bench, elbows on knees, very much curled on himself. He stared down at his own feet, shifting restlessly. Despite all the shouting, he still looks tense, like it didn’t bring any relief at all.
He doesn’t look up when Alec steps into his line of sight. Eve told him to keep his mouth shut like it is important, so he does just that, instead setting the mug on the bench beside Q and sitting down next to him, assuming the same hunched position with elbows on knees to be able to trace Q’s facial expression out of the corner of his eye.
After several long minutes, Q reaches for the mug and takes a few fortifying sips. “You scared me,” he informs flatly.
Alec turns his head fully and studies the younger man for a moment. He’s surprised Q can be shaken so easily. Strange, considering the fact he is the Quartermaster, the person who – allegedly – used to deal with likes of Double-Ohs.
Mentally, Alec shuffles through the possible responses, but all of them are bound to only lead to more frustration. Everything that might work would be a lie, and Alec has no desire to tell lies or even half-truths to Q.
“I’m sorry,” he says in the end.
Q scoffs, his lips twisting bitterly. “That’s it?”
“Mm,” Alec nods. What’s done is done. It’s all worked out. Alec did his part – trusting that Q would do his. And that’s exactly what happened.
He remembers another part of Eve’s bidding and shifts, extending one hand to rest it on Q’s shoulder. When Q doesn’t shrug it off, Alec puts an arm around both his shoulders, hugging Q’s delicate frame to his side. Q exhales, and some tension melts away from his body.
Alec needs to listen to Moneypenny's advice more often.
Q gives him an askance look full of suspicion.
Unwilling to think too much, Alec leans in and brushes his lips against Q.
“What’s that?” Q mumbles grumpily without pulling away.
“An apology?”
Q snorts. “Wouldn’t get you anywhere,” he informs but nuzzles his mouth against Alec’s anyway, in this strange animalistic manner he has.
“It’s not meant to,” Alec murmurs the whole truth. “I’d do it again for you.”
Q huffs and shakes his head. “Shut up, Alec,” he sighs.
“About to.”
Alec reels him in a kiss, then, unhurried and soothing. The sweet slide of lips against lips coaxes Q to relax further, uncurl himself more and gravitate toward Alec for more contact. Prudently, Alec takes the mug away, places it on the side, and settles his hand on the back of Q’s neck, squeezing. Eventually, their kiss is no longer a kiss but just them staying pressed together - Alec is still, and Q nuzzles against him with soft kisses and bites.
“What did you get?” Q asks against his ear, once he’s occupied with kissing a spot there, just behind it. It’s a bit ticklish, and Alec shifts slightly, nudging the back of Q’s head with his palm. Q shifts the attention to his neck instead.
“Something. Eve is looking through it.”
Q hums his acknowledgement and proceeds. Alec doesn’t mind this peculiar way of… whatever. Q isn’t kissing him, even; he just maintains constant shifting contact of his lips and Alec’s face or neck. It’s not unpleasant.
Alec is a bit regretful when he needs to put a stop to it because Q starts shivering subtly. It’s the middle of the night, and while Q has a jacket on, it’s started to be insufficient. Alec coaxes Q upright, plucks the mug from the bench, and they head inside, hand in hand.
Once back in the flat, Q perches beside Eve on the couch and starts flipping through the pages she’s already set aside. Alec leans against the counter, his gaze sliding between the two of them, waiting for further instructions.
Eve talks first, waving papers in the air with apparent annoyance. “Well, I think expecting them to have a concise file on how their experiment influences their subject’s well-being is rather naive,” she sums up. “They don’t need to go to pains of making it comprehensible to the average person.”
“Especially to the people who produce it,” Alec adds somewhat darkly. He highly doubts a good chunk of people there in the facility know what they’re producing.
“They have to report to Mallory at some point,” Q points out, uncertain.
“An oral report from our Medical Research guy works just fine,” Eve counters. “From what it says here in incredibly complicated words, it’s meant to give a boost to productivity, resilience, vigilance - and if it works, he can conclude the success himself from after mission briefs.”
“So what do you reckon?” Q mumbles as he taps a finger against his lips. “The file when it’s stated explicitly that they inject people with some newly developed formula with high risk of severe side effects without their consent doesn’t exist?” Q says it and pauses, his lips twist before he answers his own question. “No, of course not. That would be stupid.”
“Our purpose here was to confirm we’re not in paranoid delusion, all three of us,” Alec chimes in, recognising that his accomplices get too much ahead. “We’ve done just that. We just need to think about what to do next.”
“The fact it’s not paranoid delusion also means we can ask people for reasonable assistance if needed,” Q agrees and sighs.
“I think it’s sensible to pay a visit to Rietveld, then,” Alec says abruptly, straightening and grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. He has a word of ten to say to her in the light of the most recent discoveries.
They were right. The realisation provokes a wave of cold fury igniting in him, burning just beneath his skin, itchy and unwelcome. It makes him feel restless – and he hates feeling like this. He needs to do something.
No one has the right to treat his people like this.
“What, now?” Q asked, his voice rising in register with disbelief.
“Why wait?” Alec replies in a reasonable, level voice, shrugging the jacket on. “I believe we better act fast and not allow them a grace period,” he glances between Q and Eve in a silent question if they’re going to be alright on their own.
He knows Eve is capable. It’s more of a request to her to keep the boffin safe.
Completely useless because the moment Alec turns to head to the door, Q’s voice stops him short.
“Look at me again, Double-Oh-Six.”
Alec turns before he knows it. Now that’s annoying. Q regards him with intent, shrewd eyes, and Alec does his best to relax, but not too much, or else it will give him away.
“Going with you,” Q declares with a shrug followed by a face-splitting yawn.
“You need to go to bed.”
Q tsks sharply and snaps his fingers at him. “I don’t believe you keep your temper in check. And I can’t give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Alec raises his eyebrows – not at the words, they’re fair, all things considered, but at the gesture. Uncommonly rude.
“Will you tell me to heel next?”
“Do I need to?” Q questions, rising from his place.
Eve stands after Q, chuckling and dusting off her hands, and smoothly interrupts them before the exchange escalates. “You two go ahead. I’ll head back to Q’s and call Agatha. Have to ensure our cupboard man doesn’t talk, or this will spiral.”
Q glares at Alec.
“Agatha will handle it,” Alec replies, calm and unbothered.
“You mean kill the man?”
“No. First, she’ll give him the papers and the instruction to lie his heart out. If he’s not cooperative, she’ll likely apply pressure, yes,” he explains as he observes Q collecting his things. Once he’s finished and given Eve an obligatory kiss on the cheek, Alec herds Q outside and to the car, opening the passenger door for him.
The drive is quiet, and Alec grips the wheel far too tightly. He needs to make a conscious effort to ease the clench of his fingers on the leather, forcing himself to push the unproductive anger away and look at the situation with cold detachment. He’s shrugged his own persona off so many times before it barely requires the effort now. Stop gripping the wheel was more challenging than that.
“Just as rowdy as the rest of the bunch. It’s almost a relief, you know,” Q murmurs slowly, in a soft, sleepy voice half through the drive.
Alec scoffs but can’t help the smirk pulling one corner of his mouth up. Just like that, Q unceremoniously – and unwittingly – pulls Alec back into himself.
“My bet is she doesn’t know shit.”
“You give people too much trust.”
“Whatever. You leave your gun and your knives in the car.”
It’s Alec’s turn to scowl.