0_0_7 | (no subject)

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There was a sharp crack of gunfire that made the comm squeal in Q branch. The Double-0 in the field grunted, then began to pant, and continued making familiar sounds of effort as he ran full bore.

"Report," M barked in his ear.

"He ran," Bond replied, as if that should be obvious.

"Can you catch him?"

There was no answer. For a few tense moments there was only measured breathing, Bond's rhythm driving him on. On Q's screen, the small dot that indicated the agent moved north, then northwest, then vanished entirely in the middle of an intersection.

"I'm in the sewer," he said simply.

The announcement gave Q time to find him.

A moment later, there was an explosion and the comm cut out entirely.

M looked at Tanner and Q, Moneypenny...only looked at Q.

"Get me satellite," Tanner barked at Q's underling and a moment later there was an image of a smoking crater where Bond's signal had been. The smartblood monitor blinked OFFLINE. That didn't mean dead, but it certainly wasn't good.

"Bond?" M said. "Report."

Silence.

"Double-0-Seven, report," M repeated.

Silence.

"Keep the comm open," M finally said, then stalked out of the room.

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Q remained tense in his arms, composing himself and refusing to crack any more than he already had.

"If you wanted to go out, all you had to say was that you really wanted to go out, you don't have to be such a bastard about everything. I acknowledge I was unpleasant earlier, but I meant what I said. I don't want to be driven around, I don't want fancy restaurants. I'm not that person."

He'd had nearly the exact same conversation with Harry.

"More importantly, if you're annoyed with me, say so. Don't- Don't do whatever this is," he said finally, pulling away and moving to start putting the food away. "Find a better way to express yourself to me."

"Alright," he said and finished his scotch.

Q put the boxes in the fridge and Bond got to his feet.

"I made reservations because I wanted to go out. I enjoy the food and the restaurant. It's a lovely place to have an enjoyable time and not be seen."

He enjoyed the finer things. If he could die at any moment, and he had the means, why would he not enjoy the finest things the world had to offer? The best food. The best clothes. The best toys.

He gave Q a curious glance.

"Because you might not be that person, but I am. And you know that," he said. "You know that."

He said it twice for emphasis, then turned to go.

Q looked stung, watching James move to leave. Well, that had been even shorter lived than he'd expected. Maybe it was for the best though. If James had no love left for him, there would be no temptation to return. Things would just end. No danger, no more worries they might get caught.

That's what Q tried told himself anyway as his chest began to ache. This was good, this was the best solution.

When the double-o left, Q locked the door behind him. Though Bond likely barely made it to his car before the bomb went off.

It was sudden, and exceptionally loud. The ground shaking as flames instantly engulfed the narrow, two story building.

Bond was blown forward, thrown into the street. He rolled and looked back to see the house in flames, only a high pitched ringing in his ears.

"Q?" he called, though he couldn't hear himself. It took a moment to get to his feet. A neighbor came out already on her phone to the fire department.

Bond studied the scene, and then charged back into the wreckage.

Glitch and Beta were cowering near the door by their carry crate, the one Q used to take them to the vet. Slightly deeper into the house Q was on the ground, his glasses damaged and a small wound on the side of his head where some debris had struck him.

He could see James through the smoke and the haze though, and he made his way over, keeping low as he put the cats in their crate and picked them up.

"I- I'm not sure what happened," he realized, starting to cough. He barely had his wits about him, wasn't even staggering towards the door anymore.

Bond rushed forward and grabbed the crate in one hand and slung an arm around Q to guide him out to the street.

Sirens were already on the way.

Safe by his car, he set the crate in the back seat and then turned his attention to Q.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, looking him over.

Nothing like an explosion to make his heart beat.

"Bruised, but fine," Q said, unaware he was bleeding a little. "...You don't have to stay, I can wait for the police myself. I know you don't want to be near me right now, this doesn't change that."

"Shut up," he snapped, more concerned with looking at where Q was bleeding and pulling out his silk pocket square to staunch the blood.

"I hope your insurance was paid up," he said.

...And Q did. Which was a bit of a surprise, since so often the boffin seemed keen to get one last word or quip in. But Bond spoke a bit more sharply, a bit more demanding, and Q just acquiesced.

He tilted his head, letting James clean him up. "I'm not sure it covers explosions," he replied, though he supposed it likely did. He'd gotten it all through 6. One of the perks of being an asset and not just an employee.

The ringing subsided about the time the fire engines rolled up and there was a flurry of activity.

For his part, Bond tried to stay out of the way. He did his level best to never get involved with first responders.

Except to give them work to do.

Police came round to speak to Q and Bond quietly slipped away.

At least the cats were at peace in the back of Bond's car. He knew, because he looked in on them while Q was occupied.

There were a lot of questions, at least until one of the officer's looked Q up, no doubt setting off a dozen red alerts back at 6. Suddenly they would just be in touch, and wanted to know he had a place to stay tonight.

Mallory was on the phone before they'd even walked away.

"James is there?" Mallory asked, and Q realized he must be looking at the tracking on their smart blood. Tanner would have checked the moment the alert came through.

"You know how he likes to make unexpect house calls," Q replied calmly.

"Patch him in," Mallory said.

Q sighed, doing just that as he climbed into James' car.

"Bond?" Mallory said. "Report."

"Q's house blew up, sir," Bond said mildly.

"I understand that, Bond," M snapped.

"I'm taking him to the safehouse, sir. I'll see to it he's secure," Bond assured M, putting the car in drive and leaving the ruins behind them.

Q had nothing but his cats. His cats and the clothes on his back. No phone. No computer. Nothing.

What a terribly vulnerable position to be in, he thought.

The corner of his mouth closer to the window where Q couldn't see twitched up with satisfaction.

"No other reports of attacks," Q said as they drove. "Just me then."

He couldn't help but assume the worst, that things with his ex had escalated.

He slid down in his seat a bit, watching the city roll by.

"I'm sorry I upset you before. ...this isn't how I thought our night would go. ...I really did want to spend time with you."

"I think a little row is the least of our worries, Q," he said, looking over at him, sunken and defeated.

"Perhaps it was just the gas..." he said. "Accidents do happen, even to people at 6..."

"I suppose," Q agreed quietly, though he seemed unsure. "I don't remember smelling gas, do you?"

Of course not.

Because C4 didn't tend to smell.

"I don't think so," he admitted, then sighed.

Q fell silent, but after a moment reached over and rested his hand on James' knee.

Bond looked at Q's hand, then the man, then back to the road.

"Do you have any idea who...?" he began, then trailed off.

"I don't know, but it's hard not to suspect my ex. He's never been violent before, but..."

But people changed, things could always escalate.

"Can we not talk about this tonight? I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think at all."

"Alright, Q," he said quietly.

Rather pleased with himself, he put on some low music and drove a rather twisting route to the safe house.

Inside it was a bit stuffy, closed as it had been. The kitchen was stocked with non perishables, some condiments and drinks in the fridge. There were cat supplies, newly purchased. Q had been meant to come here, after all, and no one had taken it away. The bed had been made fresh a few days ago, and a housekeeper clearly came in from tie to time to dust and hoover.

Bond sat down the cat carrier once the door was shut.

"Will you stay with me while I'm here?" Q asked quietly, crouching low and letting the cats out. "I don't want to be here on my own," he admitted.

"Of course, Q," he said, wandering around to make sure it was ready.

There were two bedrooms. Staying was plausible.

"It's going to be alright," he attempted to assure him.

"I know," Q said quietly, wandering into the kitchen and setting some food and water out for the cats. He'd have to groom them tomorrow, Glitch looked a bit sooty.

It was rare that Q looked so fragile or timid, but as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, he looked terribly small.

"I don't imagine much survived. ...Would it be out of line, do you think, to ask Eve to pick me up a few things to wear? I can't turn up to work like this, I reek of fire... I can get a new laptop, a new tablet, no trouble- But everything else is... At least all my papers were in the fire safe."

"Q, I'll take care of everything," Bond said, moving close and laying a steady hand on him.

"Go take a shower. I'll make tea, and arrangements. There are some generic clothes in the drawers you can wear tonight," he said. "And tomorrow, we'll go see what can be salvaged. It may not be as bad as you fear."

Q nodded slightly, then slowly put his arms around Bond and embraced him tightly.

"Thank you, James," he said softly.

He was reluctant to let go, but eventually he did, taking a pair of simple blue pyjamas before heading into the shower.