Q pressed his hand into the cool scales. They glistened, liquid white-gold, under his fingers. Each scale was ridged, marked in such a way that it looked like the waves with touches of pale silver as sea foam. The ridges were a crystallization of Asergium, a rare element found only in dragon scales, appearing as dragons aged.
Q caressed the marks counting them. This particular steed was a good forty years. He knew that the dragon's physicals were barely passing, but he'd fought in the Silver War. The dragon had been so young then, Q remarked to himself. He walked slowly over to the saddle, lifting the tag.
In black letters painted on wood, the number read 007. Q recalled how the D-Strike team, called the Sea Lion Strike, failed miserably. The dragons were spotted by the other army across the straight and the dragons were ripped wing from wing, falling out of the sky and into the murky depths below. Skyfall, they called that day. He recalled how his father whispered into his ear of the great dragon that flew ahead of them all. He remembered the king of the skies.
"They called you the greatest there ever was. We all thought you were dead." The great creature, so far, had ignored him. It glared at the sunlight that bathed the old Bond manor house. The icy blue eyes were deep sapphires, three eyelids guarding them against wind and water. The creature breathed deeply, the flesh shifting, sinuous. It wanted to fly. Q remembered when he first found out that this was the first home, the breeding ground of all Bond dragons, of which only one remained.
"You should be studding, leaving some progeny to train." He tapped the streaks. "But, I guess you're too old." The dragon sniffed its displeasure, and Q chuckled silently.
"Oh, you know, I saw a painting the other day. It's the one they just moved into the manor. I have no idea why M would want me to keep that. It's of a grand, old war ship being ignominiously hauled in for scrap." Q watched the dragon's tail stiffen.
"The inevitability of time, don't you think?" He went on more quietly.
"What did you see? I know Kincade showed it to you."
The dragon's voice reverberated through the room. "A bloody big ship."
It turned its eyes on Q's figure. "Excuse me, but what are you?"
"I'm the new Quartermaster."
"You've got to be joking."
"Why, because I'm not in stirrups?"
"You're a babe, with spots."
"My complexion is hardly relevant and you're close to fifty; everyone is a babe to you."
"Your competence is."
"Age is no guarantee of efficiency."
"And youth is no guarantee of innovation."
Q kept his mouth shut, letting the dragon still at the sound of words invading in his head. "I'll hazard I can do more damage on the ground sitting in my pajamas before my first cup of earl gray that you could do in a year in the field" He didn't want to add "especially since you can no longer shield or breathe fire".
"So why do you need me?" the dragon rumbled back. His voice was clearer in Q's head, sharp like diamond shards and lemon.
"Every now and then, a beast must remind the men that they are not as powerful as they think, "Q muttered softly patting the dragon's neck.
"Or all that they are. It's hard to know in your pajamas, Q."
"007." The quartermaster's steel blue eyes met the dragon's crystal, water and ice. Q patted it on the head and removed the saddle. He didn't know who saddled 007, though he guessed Kincade (the Scotsman was the only one who could get the dragon to do anything) had something to do with it. Q removed the light-weight, leather seat and set it in the black bin with the rest of 007's old equipment. Q headed for the stall door. He didn't know how tall the barns were until he saw one in person. They were the size of his apartment building and its neighbors.
"I'm not accepting you as my rider," the dragon mumbled shuffling in its stall. Q turned back with a faint smirk on his lips.
"007, you have been resting for five years, who said we still use riders?"
As he left, Q swore he could hear the dragon muttering, "A brave new world."
Q held on to the edge of the table as his mind whorled. The room twirled like an off kilter ballerina. Light blossomed on the edges of his vision. They look like fireworks, he thought off-handedly. If he wasn't sure that lunch was clean, he would have suspected someone put him on acid.
That wouldn't be the first time. The room swam then, all the lines turning fluid and stretching. His knees gave out, making his upper body fall into the desk's side. A reassuring hand rested on his shoulder.
"Q." Gareth Mallory propped the young man up until he regained his balance.
"Thank you."
Mallory nodded. "What happened?"
Q put on his glasses and blinked rapidly. He turned to his computer screen. "004 requires assistance. She found another plant. Their payload appears in the range of seven to ten figures."
Mallory groaned and rubbed his face. He leaned against Q's computer chair and peered over his shoulder. "In kilos?"
At the same time a satellite map of a thickly wooded area appeared on screen, Q replied, "Metric tons."
Mallory sank into the unused chair. "That much Konamine…"
"…Could neutralize the entire British dragon force," Q finished.
"Tanner!" The assistant appeared. "Suit up Moneypenny; we are going on a flight."
"Yes, sir, expect her in three hours." Tanner confirmed the time and left.
Q's fingers fan over the keyboard. "I mean no disrespect, but you haven't flown in three years."
"Yes, but it isn't like there are any other options."
"We could borrow other fliers." Q had a specific dragon in mind that wanted to see action again.
"From who? The Americans?" Mallory snorted, gathering his coat and hat. "I'll run this one. Moneypenny can torch the factory from kilometer away." The sienna dragon was head of the training division now. She kept the youngest dragons in line and on task. Field work wasn't for everyone.
"That's good." It was a shame that those two hadn't bonded. Moneypenny missed the old M far too much though. It wouldn't' be healthy, even five years later.
"It is perfectly healthy to work this way." Q looked at Mallory questioningly.
"You were mumbling," he shrugged. "If 007 wants to see a free sky again, he has to pass the exam."
The jacket went on and the "brother"-figure vanished. "See you at the other end, Q."
"Yes, sir."
"007."
"Q." The quartermaster slipped into the stall, hay crackling under his boots. 007 took in his clothes with a judgmental eye. Sure, being a dragon meant that he didn't wear clothes but he appreciated well-dressed associates. Mentally he slapped himself as Q stepped closer for referring to the man as an associate. No Quartermaster would ever be an associate; assistant at best and annoyance at worst.
Never associate.
The young man's eyes focused with laser point accuracy on 007's mangled fore claws. "Do you prefer to speak in my head?"
"Yes, you're more likely to slip." The dragon regretted clawing the dirt a little. Not really, he didn't do regret.
The human went on, frustratingly calm. "I don't have you bound."
"You have me chained," he growled.
"Doctor's orders."
How very easy for him to say. Doctor's orders. 007 hated doctors, especially the specialists in dragon health. Really, learning form age old text books that hadn't been revised in thousands of years. 007 was ancient in thought but not that old. Who knew a dragon better than a fellow dragon? They never let dragon's tend to each other the way they were meant to. Now, it was an art almost entirely forgotten.
"I can't train this way," he groused.
Q snorted, not gentlemanly at all, and announced, "Yes, you can and you have."
007's muscles were still a little sore from exertion. His exercises tired him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd scored well enough to barely pass the exam. Though, he did keep fit, he wasn't up to the traditional Bond standard, higher than gold. Q would know that was the standard of his pedigree were measured to.
"Bloody medical." 007 continued to rest as he was.
Most left by now. The dying conversation and bitter moods he sent Q's way should have sent him into hiding, or at least made him leave the stall. Q stood there inspecting a rider's helmet. 007 noted it was an old model. His eyes trailed of the boy's form. Whip cord muscles wrapped in a thin layer of fat for insulation met his eye. Q was thin, not quite to the level of being anorexic or emaciated, but still severely underweight. Still, what weight he did contain was all built for stamina and speed.
007 was a little impressed. He hadn't seen a rider of that pedigree since his job in Minsk. It was there he'd caught the eye of Arthur and Eames, an American rider and British dragon. That was a shock. They'd stopped for some banter and a little reminiscing before 007 blew the place to the sky and the pair fled to whatever corner of the world still allowed free lancers.
"What's Mallory got to say now?" he asked, sounding apathetic.
Q didn't' look up from the saddle he inspected. Instead, he reached into his pocket and made some notes on a little moleskine notebook. "You have to pass the exam."
"Buggering -." He watched for the young man's reaction.
"Swears like a sailor," the quartermaster sighed.
"Big as a whaler," 007 replied, because indeed he was.
Q smirked. "That's not very conservationist of you."
"I didn't know you cared for orcas."
The young man fixed him with a stare. "I care for everything that matters."
"That's going to get you killed."
"It hasn't yet." The cocky little twat. He always thought he was one step ahead of his opponents and the day he lost his edge he would find his love his downfall.
"It almost got me killed." 007 remembered Vesper for all she was, perfect pedigree and fire. Q slinked over, silent in a way that wasn't normal in the least. Not for a Quarter master anyway, but what did 007 know? He was treated by an old man up until a few years ago. Then he saw no one but Kincade. This was a brave new world.
"Who says I am not better than you?" The tension in his muscles vanished under Q's touch. He could remember when the last time was that someone touched that perfect place behind the fourth ridge on his neck. That spot made him relax and, sometimes, he would sleep. Probably, he guessed, that person was the old M.
"You are arrogant." There was no heat in his words. His voice sounded like a soft breeze in Q's ear.
"You are underestimating," the quartermaster retorted with a little click.
The dragon purred as the last of his muscles unwound . "Are you such a clever boy?"
"I like to think so." The voice drifted into his mind as sleep over took the great dragon.
His Quartermaster was gone.
Q stayed in the house guiding 004 and giving Tanner reports over the computer. Long telepathic links were tenuous and often snapped. These were more dangerous than actually riding some said.
Q thought to disagree. When riding, one could suffer all sorts of injuries to the body. They could be damaged irreversibly in the head, while still being mentally stable. However, a telepathic connection allowed the rider to be safe while the dragon had more room to maneuver. The dragon did not have to absolutely obey orders, and dragon's intuition was better than any graph or chart. It was better for both parties.
Still, naysayers screamed about how the death of the dragon or the rider was more likely to occur with the physical death of one during an operation. Those people knew nothing. Only the strongest of connections made that painful result. The riders of Q branch and the dragons were careful not to let a connection form. This was often in the mode of overwork on the part of the riders. Dragons were less likely to connect with a human than a human to dragon. Call it sentimentality. By keeping Q branch in the affairs of remote direction of both dragons and human agents, the chances of a relation dropped dramatically.
Q himself managed four human ground agents and three 00 Dragons. They were 004, 006, and 007. Papava was a silky dragon with a lot of bite. Her scales were as red as her name, making shielding an imperative operation. The dragon of the Trevelyan line was considerably less troubling in color. His sandy shading made desert missions a dream. However, he did have a few glaring scars that acted as identifying markers. Either way, they worked hard and made his day when the job was done.
The last of his charges was on his mind as he heard 004's shimmering voice in his ear.
"They're launching at us." He glanced at a screen and saw that was indeed happening.
"Konamine?" he asked. She swerved around one and tore a slit in the side. A soft blue power spilled out.
"Yeah, should I be worried?"
"No." Q started tapping at his keyboard. The base was on a WiFi network, the idiots, so hacking was not going to be a problem. He sighed as they crumbled under his digital fingertips.
"Moneypenny's on a roll. Most of the stock is gone." 004's musings tore through his thought of whether he could get an intern to make him a cup of tea and make 007 cooperative. He had forgotten that relocation meant he didn't have his interns on site.
"Good."
004 pouted in his head. "You're distracted."
"No." he took down more defenses. This was well rigged for some reason, easy to enter but hard to escape.
She snorted, very unlady like. "Yes, you are. Give me pi."
"3.14159265358979323846264338327950288419716939937 5."
"Darling, something is wrong. You only gave fifty digits."
"I don't see how that is related." The launchers were down and Q knew from the slight hum in his ear that 004 took a nose dive. She had a habit of humming the mission impossible theme in her head, just to add to the drama.
"You never turn down a chance at pi." She chided. The cameras on her scales gave him a pretty good view of what was going on. Sentries were being dispatched at a fair pace.
"We're short on time." No, they weren't. Q felt something curl in him. This didn't feel right.
"Newton's law?" she asked. Ouch. One took a spiked tail to the stomach. Not comfortable in the slightest.
"Newton's Third Law: When two bodies interact by exerting force on each other, these forces (termed the action and the reaction) are equal in magnitude, but opposite in direction," he recited.
"Well?"
"What?" There was a tinny scream through the microphones and 004 continued to stay silent.
Q sighed. "Blake's Corollary: Anything in between is fucked."
Damn the Quartermaster Branch and their obsession over the dragons of Gotham.
004 sighed, long suffering. "It's about 007 isn't it?"
"No."
"Yes," she retorted. A roar ripped through the air. Her voice tightened. "Did you hear that?"
He hummed his affirmation. With a jolt, his screen blacked out. "004, do you have eyes?"
Her voice in his head was hard, like diamond. "Yes, Moneypenny's…"
She was silent. The microphones were down and the voice in his head gone, Q felt truly alone. The silence was deafening over the hum of his computers. "004?"
"004?" He repeated.
His mobile buzzed from its place on his table and he picked up. "Tanner?"
"Q!" The man's breathing was labored.
"Something's attacked the server," he muttered. A cold bitterness entered his tone, resignation, fear.
Q snapped, "What?"
"God damn it." Tanner cursed as a door slammed into his face. "All the gates are being opened, skulls appearing everywhere." Q looked at his screen there was nothing. He tried to access his cameras, but nothing appeared.
"Who is being held on site?" he asked. Still nothing, everything looked to be in working order.
Tanner's reply was prompt. "No one."
"Any files being opened?" Q asked.
There was a soft groan. "They were cracking a laptop."
"Whose?" Q stopped short. No, he knew who. "Never mind. How is M?"
"A little shaky, slipping." Tanner bit out an expletive. Q guessed he was getting iced for the bump.
"They injured Moneypenny."
"And 004." Q added.
Tanner bit down. "We need to get them back."
Q paused for a second. His mind ran every plan he'd ever read and hoped would work. Slowly he realized that it wasn't' going to happen. He had to improvise.
"Tanner, suit up 006, and start prepping."
"What?" Tanner muttered another expletive.
Q tried to keep his voice level. "You're going in."
"No, what?" Tanner hadn't flown since he got his desk job. Q breathed deeply thought his nose and out. He hoped that the man wasn't too rusty.
"It's Silva, Tanner. He's back."
Silence met him.
"What are we…?"
Q replied, "Get ready. We're going in for a fight."
"What does he want?"
"I think I have an idea. Just, be ready." Q hoped he was right. He didn't know Silva very well. He's signed on just after Skyfall. But, he'd heard rumors that while Q branch was bereft of a Q (current one was bussing tables and cracking Apple at the time) a great hacker decided to waltz in a wipe the floor with them. The previous had died in an explosion.
"What's wrong?" Tanner asked. Silence was never a good sign in the office.
Q blinked at his screen a few words hovered there, appearing at the same time doors molested Tanner's face.
"The battle's going to be on our turf."
Q hung up and pulled on his coat. He had a plan to improvise.
A shaft of light illuminated the inside of the barn. A tall figure, thin and wiry, stepped into that light, casting a long shadow. The dragon barely opened an eye.
"007."
Curt and quick.
"Hello, Q."
"Silva," the man said. The word dripped, a living poison that wrapped its claws into 007's heart and didn't let go. He burned with a quiet simmering heat.
"He's still alive?" He hoped his voice was measured. The Quarter master ignored the strained notes.
"Yes, and he's running a Konamine operation." The man sighed deeply. 007 stared at the slightness in his frame, just now prominent. Still, there was rigidity to his stance, the look a man who wouldn't give an inch, even in death.
"That is a spot of bother," 007 mused.
Q shuffled on his feet. "He managed to damage Moneypenny and 004. 006 is going on retrieval. He has enough of the stuff to destroy Britain's defenses."
"We'll be sitting ducks." 007 felt a little pain to hear two previous mates were hurt. It never boded well.
"What then?"
"Hm?" Q looked up. His face was ragged, but masked very well.
007 chuckled, "What's Silva's real aim, clever..."
"Don't call me that." 007 glanced at the stiffness in his quartermaster's hands. The agony the boy must be feeling. The only thing he could think was that Silva managed to rile Q so. It was disgusting, that spider.
"My question."
The youth bit back. "You know the answer."
"I'd like to hear you say it."
"You." Q grimaced at the words falling from his mouth. "He wants you."
"What are we going to do?" The dragon asked, rhetorical question.
The youth groaned. "M's out of commission." 007 noticed the mobile in the youth's hand. Tanner was probably giving a play by play.
"Another Skyfall is out of the question," the great beast muttered instead.
There was a short breathy chuckle. "Well, seeing as his target is you and there is no hut in the area to hide you in."
"Still so sarcastic. Why don't you ever change?" The dragon thought long and hard.
"You'd get bored." "The only thing I can think of is…"
"Flying." That wasn't what Q was thinking in the slightest. The dragon stretched. "I'm on board."
"What?"
The dragon went n flexing his wings and muscles. They were better off now. Not Bond standard still, but perfectly good for what was in mind. "I'm not going to let you connect, no matter what ploy you put up, but we can out maneuver him in the air."
"You're kidding. When was the last time you flew?" Q's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates behind his glasses.
"Just this morning." The chains clattered on the ground.
The dragon smirked pulling to full height. "Kincade doesn't serve just you."
Cold wind whistled over the moor. Q clung onto 007's back. The leather saddle was not uncomfortable, but the chill was. He could feel it slipping under his coat and cardigan. The dragon enjoyed the air though. Q couldn't bear to fathom how or why.
It's probably something he grew up in, Q mused. The Bond, originally the Skyfall estate but that was insensitive, manor was veiled in fog from the lake. All Q thought was that any battle in the mist would result in death. His specifically, and from drowning.
He took a breath of the ultra-saturated air. The wind smelled of heather and a light touch of petrol. Under him, 007 shifted his weight. The muscles rippled between his legs. Q griped on a little harder and the faint strains of rock and pop played over the moors.
"It's him." The dragon's voice ripped into his head. It was like a wildfire, burning with hate, and a riptide, vicious and unforgiving. Q realized the creature under him was something to be feared. For once in his life, he really truly feared another being.
Q's attempt to reply died on the sound of a roar.
"007!" The voice grated on his ears. Q shook his head to clear it.
"Silva." 007 looked up at the huge silver dragon hovering overhead. His wings pumped and lifted him and his rider into the sky.
Q's head spun like a pretty ballerina. Oh, heavens, when was the last time he was actually on a dragon? He held onto the ridge in front of him with gloved hands. 007 had no response.
"What a pleasure that you should join me." Silva tilted his head to the side peering at the little speck on 007's back. "Oh, is that a rider?"
"Yes." 007 growled. Q tried to look as menacing as he could.
Silva smirked. "Hm… well, everyone has a first."
"Who says he is my first?" They both asked.
Silva laughed.
'Silent,' 007 ordered.
Q tried not to sound petty. 'He thought you're my first!'
'Does it matter?' the dragon groaned. 'We both know that's true.'
'I'll have you know Trevelyan loves letting me ride.' Q tried to cap it. Damn it. His inner voice was terribly revealing.
A rich chuckled invaded his skull. 'Well, that's enlightening. I didn't know you were interested in a dragon's…'
Silva sighed dramatically. "I'm suspecting some dirty 'riding' jokes."
"Spot on, chap," 007 quipped.
"Hm… I suppose this is your first time together. Don't worry about being nervous, kid; it's perfectly normal."
Q had just enough time to be a little offended. 007 smirked a little.
'Don't smirk!' Q yelled. 007 rolled his eyes. Silva dropped like a rock.
"Now, why don't we turn up the heat?" He roared. Fire spiraled upwards at them.
007 shot into the sky, wrapping around the spiraling column of flame. Q gripped on harder. The wind whipped his hair into his face and the steam generated by the fog and flame blurred his vision, but not by much. They sparred and Q felt a stone sink in his stomach.
007 was losing.
His wing was all but ripped open. His scales no longer shone a pristine gold. They were marred with droplets of blood and water. The dragon breathed deeply and went for the throat. His claws curled around Silva's throat only to have his attack buffeted when the other dragon kicked off. They grappled for the upper hand falling like stones and soaring again.
'To your left!' 007 dove out of the way of a helicopter launching metal at them.
'Put your back into it!'
A torpedo whipped past at 150 kilometers an hour. Q felt the air still around him and his dragon. They hovered between the projectiles. The missiles were marked; each one owned a skull in bright blue. Soft trails of powder flew out behind. Each one, Q knew, had enough Konamine to render a dragon useless. They would fall to their deaths to the icy water or the hard stone below.
Q could imagine it, the ripping wind stretching his skin and tearing his hair. The fall would be just far enough for him to come out of shock and go back in again. This time, he would be in shock again from the knowledge that he would die. He would hit the ground, falling at 500 kilometers an hour. All his bones would snap. He would die, crumbling like a Russian tea cookie. If he hit the water, all his bones would snap upon hitting the ice. He would drown trying to struggle to the surface, his lungs laboring for oxygen.
And 007. The dragon might still be conscious upon hitting the ground. He would drown on blood or water. Q could see the huge lungs being punctured and the alveoli filling with fluid. That or they would fill with water and the fire in 007's heart would be quenched eternally.
Q would rather die than see his dragon fall.
A helicopter flew by and the dragon tackled it out of the sky. The sides of the copter were torn from the hull. Q watched as two men parachuted out. 007 ripped the missiles off the body. The wings went flying into the mist. The dragon dropped the helicopter gently, careful not to let his claw puncture the Konamine tubes.
'Are you alright?' 007 asked. The air space was finally clear.
'Yes,' Q replied. He stared at the missiles.
007's tone turned lilting. 'Do you have an idea?'
'Yes,' Q replied with more feeling.
'I trust you.'
007 dove back into the fray.
Silva surveyed the cloudy atmosphere. It was not a good day for a fight. So far, he'd barely avoided getting hit by his own missiles. The men in his copters were incompetent mud walkers. They still hadn't picked up that he was displeased after he'd devoured three of them. It was an unorthodox part of the dragon diet. Actually, forget unorthodox. It wasn't done. Dragons didn't eat humans. Silva growled a little at the thought.
007, his 007, had a human rider. He was not one of the pure ones as Silva had thought. He was a mud sucker. He served the mud walkers. That perfect golden dragon corrupted by the dirt. He could see the fire and air that burned in 007. He'd killed that water dragon, Vesper, for a reason. Wind and water were not good enough. She had water, a stain of the humans, who were water and earth.
"007!" he called out in a sing-song.
No reply.
He hovered. A bank of warm air filled the air. His vision blurred even more. Still nothing. Still… nothing. He couldn't even hear his copters
He couldn't hear his copters.
"Hello there." He whipped around he get a smattering of Konamine to the face. The golden dragon smiled broadly. The rider on his back was staring, mournfully.
"Have a nice fall," his precious treasure whispered.
Silva felt his body burn with ice, something that dragons were not to touch. But, he looked at his pet, that golden dragon didn't burn.
As he plummeted, the winds buffeting his body, tearing away at his wings; as he hit the ground and felt his wings stab him in the back; the wings he loved so dearly. He stared up at his precious treasure, his stained and bloody angel.
"The secret of Skyfall."
There was reason why no one ever tried to attack the dragons of Bond lineage with the blue ice. From the earliest dawns of time, dragons had a reverence for the fields of skyfall. The dragon's there took a plummet into the chilled waters and rolled over the earth. They could withstand any blue ice thrown their way. They were the greatest pedigree, raised to be strong and powerful.
And loyal.
Forever loyal to the Bond family that protected them in the 100 Dragons War and later the war between the Red and White factions of the dragon riders.
Forever loyal to the land that raised them to fear nothing and fight for everything.
Forever loyal to their riders who loved him with their hearts and gave them every breath from the moment they felt the air together.
Silva took that secret to the grave.
Q breathed deeply as a resounding thump reached his ears. Then there was silence. It was like something out of the legends. The great evil vanquished. Soon the clouds would disperse and he would stare into the sun. They would land and find Kincade waiting. Moneypenny and 004 would arrive with 006. Tanner would clap him on the back and tell him he did well.
And Mallory. Mallory would take one look at 007 and send him back to medical, but let him back into action. He could love it.
"We did it." His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears, adrenalin and lack of use.
"Yes, we did." 007 started descending. Q stared at the dragon beneath him.
"007?" He landed slowly, wings fanning out. The air ripped through his hair and the punctures in the dragon's wings. He could see the muscles straining.
The dragon was falling.
"007!" They landed with a heavy clunk. Q banged his head against the dragon's neck, dazed.
"Q." The young man breathed deeply. He slipped off the saddle and reached for the dragon's head.
Blood poured from several gashes. Q felt a strong tug in his chest. He felt it there, the connection. He felt it in the air between them.
"007." He heard his voice crack. How embarrassing, in front of 007. The dragon blinked slowly, blood dripping over his nose and down his scaly face.
"Don't waste your tears on me."
"They're not wasted," Q sniffed. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pressed against the dragon.
"Caring gets you killed," he mused.
Q sniffed again. "007?"
"I cared too much," he admitted.
"I…" Q choked back a sob.
"I care for you," he admitted.
Q whispered in the dragon's ear. "I care for you too, 007."
The dragon's eyes blinked, unseeing. "Call me by my house name. I am the last after all."
"The last…" Q choked on tears. He went on, "Don't say that. You're going to get better. You're going to go to medical."
He wiped his tears a put on a cheery front. "You're going to mate with Moneypenny next season. We'll have little 007's running around Q-Branch. Mallory's going to let you fly under the flag again. You'll be okay."
The dragon closed its eyes and smiled. "That's a nice dream. Where are you in that, Q?"
Q leaned his whole body into the dragon. "I'll be here, guiding you through the battle fields and helping you raise your flightlings."
"That's lovely indeed." The dragon sighed.
"007."
"Say my name, rider." A single eye opened, ice blue.
"Please."
Q sobbed, "Bond. Please, Bond." The rest of his words melted on his tongue.
"You're perfect." The dragon pressed back with the last of his strength.
'I love you.'
Q sobbed. 'Idiot, don't tell me that now.'
All Q heard was his voice in his head, echoing again and again.
Don't give me the world before ripping it away.
"I'm sorry, Q." Tanner pressed a hand into his back. The freshly turned earth of Skyfall was moist. The rain poured, like the sky decided it had to let loose torrents and weep for the last of his creatures.
"He called me his rider," Q breathed.
Mallory stood on his other side. "The severing hurts. You will heal."
"He's right." Moneypenny was still injured but nothing would stop her from appearing at the interring of the greatest dragon in the history of the British isle.
"I suppose." They left him standing there.
"Kincade?" Q asked.
The Scotsman stepped up behind him. "Yes?"
"Is the manor to be sold?"
"Well, yes. The last dragon is…"
Q cut him off. "I'd like to buy it. You could keep your job. I just…"
"Don't want this place disturbed," the man finished.
"Exactly." Q smiled faintly.
A hand rested on his shoulder. "He would have wanted that."
"I know." Q watched the sun rise over the horizon.
"Where is that report?" Q glared at his underlings. They were all so competent and being incompetent.
"Which one, sir?" A girl asked. He tried to recall any information on her other than she made a nice cuppa.
"The one on the John Doe."
A young man pressed a file into his hands. "It's here, sir."
Q stalked off in the direction of his office.
"Q, you're running them ragged." He turned and glared at Mallory.
"I left this place to run it-self for three months, and somehow the entire place goes to hell." He read over the file quickly. Superficial information, nothing to tell him if the man found really was one of his agents, like he claimed. Q went back to typing in his computer.
There had to be a reason why M was in his office that was probably alcohol related. Sure enough, Mallory took his scotch and poured himself a cup. "The man in medical has been asking for you."
"Oh, really?" As if the memos at his desk hadn't informed him of that already.
"Why don't you go?" M asked.
Q glared at his screen. Was that a splotch? "Why should I?"
"Closure?" Mallory stepped out of the office leaving Q silent and brooding.
Once he overcame his shock, he spoke:
"You really shouldn't tell someone you love them and then go die."
The man in the bed grinned and patted the space next to him. "Are you ever going to change?"
"No, you'd hate me if I did." Q flopped onto the mattress ignoring the scandalized titers of the nurses outside.
"True," the man acceded.
Q poked his face. "How is this possible?"
"Well, the angels didn't let me in on the account of aspirational sodomy and the devil was annoyed that I sent so many people his way. He's a hard working blighter and sharp with a pitchfork."
Q laughed and the man chuckled silently along with him. Q wiped away a tear. That was the first time he'd laughed since…
"What did you tell the nurses your name was?" Q asked the man.
A sharp smirk matched icy eyes. "Bond, James Bond."
Wall of disclaimers on my userpage.
I saw this in a dream. How often do you hear that? With me, more often I thought of this in the shower. Anyhow, this fiction deserves much better than me. I hope you can stomach this terrible rendering of what really was a spectacular dream.
I don't dream often, but when I do, I dream in IMAX 3-D with 5.1 Dolby digital surround sound, and those quirky moving chairs.