Day 1., Tuesday (Oct. 18.)

Bill and Q had taken the 5:40 AM Eurostar from London St. Pancras and had arrived in Paris Gare du Nord at 9:17 AM (local time). Once there, they had purchased their travel cards for the Paris public transport then had taken the subway to their pre-booked hotel, using actual maps instead of GPS on their cells (Tanner's idea), and because of that it had taken them nearly twice the time it should have in Q's opinion but since they'd had a good time, he wasn't complaining about it.

They then had left their bags back at the hotel (they hadn't bothered to unpack anything yet just piled them in Bill's room quickly) and were now walking on the right bank of the Seine, having just spent half an hour in the Jardin des Tuileries marveling at the beauty of it. Currently they were headed towards Pyramides and from there they would walk to Pont Neuf that was – despite its name – the oldest bridge in the city. They were planning on crossing the river over that bride to continue their walk on the other side.

Bill – having already been in the city numerous times – was mostly discreetly watching the boy look around in awe, taking everything in like a small child in a candy shop. He seemed to be totally taken with the many spectacles.

"So, do you like it here?"

"YES! This is the most beautiful city EVER! Well, I have not been to a lot of places of course but I've seen them all on CCTV. And while it's not the same, I still think this must be something exceptionally special. And being here is the most wonderful feeling ever! Totally different to just watching it on a screen. Thank you!"

"You're more than welcome. But then can you tell me why you don't want to go out more? Teens your age usually frequent discos, cinemas, parties… whatever. Not that I miss having to worry about you all the time but still. Don't you miss any of these?"

"No. I tried a party once while I was undercover. It was enough, thank you very much: drunken teenagers swaying then passing out right in front of you on the floor… Loud music and that thing they call dancing… It looks more like someone having a seizure. Smoking and the sickening smell of alcohol. The mess… And I was also in a movie theater and it was good and everything, but I won't miss it if I don't go ever again. I simply don't like small confined spaces that are packed with lots of people."

"Why?"

"Because everyone is talking at the same time and it's already too loud in my own head anyway without having to try to think over their voices."

"What do you mean 'too loud in your head'?" – Tanner looked frightened at the boy as if trying to see into his brain to understand him more. Hearing voices on one's head usually didn't mean anything reassuring…

"Oh, for Goodness sake, don't start panicking now! I'm not schizophrenic! I just mean that my thoughts can be quite noisy."

They had reached the Pyramides and Q stopped in front of it just to be able to look at it in wonder. He knew that under (and all around) them there was the Louvre that was the world's largest museum and held close to 35.000 objects. It was creepy to even think of it! He knew everything about the museum, he had just never actually been inside of it. They would make up for that the next day.

Tanner, sensing that the boy needed some time to just enjoy the sights, left him alone for a few minutes. When Q continued to walk, he asked:

"Can you tell me more about how your thoughts are 'noisy'? Please, I honestly just want to understand."

Q sighed. He had been afraid of that question ever since he had mentioned it. He knew that elaboration was inevitable. Then again, maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk about it with someone; and who else could be a better audience for it than the man who was particularly like a father to him?

"I can't really explain it. I… I think I have been like that all my life and I have only recently started realizing that it's again something about me that's not considered normal. God, I really hate that word…"

"I don't expect or want you to be what people consider 'normal'. Neither does anyone else in MI6 or – if my guess is correct – any of your brothers for that matter. We love you the way you are. We just want to know more about you to be able to understand you better."

"I know, it's just… it's not easy to explain something I don't fully understand myself."

"Just try, please."

"All right. So: when I face a task, be it something M gives to me or a self-appointed one, my brain goes crazy looking for possible solutions, trying to analyze the outcome of each one of them and listing pros and cons like mad. Similar to how you would see a computer work I guess, running calculations too quickly for the screen to follow properly. I'm not sure it's me doing it, quite honestly. I think my brain has an own life and I'm only in the way… Anyway, until it settles on what it considers the best course of action under the circumstances, it's usually actually painful if I have to concentrate on something else as well, or someone is talking to me or even if others are talking among themselves but are loud about it."

"Is that why there are times we can't seem to reach you? When you don't hear the knocking, you don't answer our questions and if we touch you, you nearly get a heart attack…"

"Yes. My minions know not to disturb me during these periods if it's not completely necessary. I'm not ignoring you on purpose."

"I never thought you were. And it actually hurts?"

"Yes but it's not the usual kind of pain. It's more like… working overtime and not being able to catch up to myself. If you managed to interrupt me in the middle of it and asked me to tell you exactly where I am in the line of thoughts I probably wouldn't be able to answer… My brain is considerably smarter and quicker than I am." – He said, laughing at his own inability to explain. It all sounded crazy, he was sure of it.

"And once you've reached a decision of what to do?"

"Then it changes. Everything narrows down to it, while I of course constantly question myself and am able to adapt if in a later time if I were to change my mind about it and choose another method. But when a way has been determined, I start working on the details. At first, it's slower and calmer but then it just speeds up and I'm lost again. There's just so much to think of! Possible outcomes: favorable and least favorable ones. Catastrophes when the main goal becomes to save civilians and agent. Or the opposite: planning the best way to reach our aim without casualties. You know I refuse to lose anyone."

"I know. Every Double-O agent sees you as some kind of godsend for that. A miracle. Before you, nobody ever saw them as anything more than living weapons. They used to be considered disposable: something to be sacrificed for Queen and Country."

"I still can't believe anyone would be capable of thinking like that. That makes my blood boil. They're people!"

"Yes, they are."

"Anyway, it takes a lot of work and energy to be prepared enough each time to be able to take responsibility for a mission. Then there are the missions themselves: I have to be alert and on top the whole time even though I might not have slept for days beforehand. Earl Grey helps a lot, I guess, but still, sometimes I feel like it's again only my mind and not me that's functioning to full capacity."

"It must be frightening."

"Not really. That's how I've been all my life. I don't know anything else. But it's frightening to find out that it's not the way others are. It makes me think there might be something wrong with me after all."

"Being a genius is certainly nothing wrong, Q. It's a gift. You're brilliant."

"Where is the fine line between being a genius or an autistic, sociopathic, psychopathic freak though? Someone who's not even completely human but more like an android? Just the host for a self-functioning brain…"

"Is that how you think of yourself?" – Tanner seemed horrified.

"Sometimes…" – That was the first time ever he had admitted it, even to himself. Now that he had said it out aloud, it was strangely anticlimactic: no fireworks and flashing signs confirming or denying his fears. Just the lingering doubt… And the terrible realization that that might have been what had been wrong with him lately: not knowing who and what he was, what was expected of him and what he wanted of life.

"Oh, my God, son, why haven't you talked about it with anyone before? We all could have told you that you're a miracle, not a freak. Never a freak!"

"It's not something I consciously think about. It's more like a feeling… Just… I don't know. Like I don't fit anywhere because everyone else is normal and I am something else. Or at least people are more normal than I am. I wouldn't go as far as to say that Bond is normal for example…"

"How long have you felt that?"

"Not long… I don't know… When I was living with my brothers, I really didn't know anything else. They're… while not even similar to me in the workings of our brains, still like me in regards of being different, if you know what I mean. Now that you know who they are, surely, you can understand. We're all absolutely incapable of social life. Well, Mycroft can play it very well, but it's just an act. He's a politician – he hasn't got an honest moment when he's not at home. In reality, he's motto is that everyone is a goldfish. He just plays his cards well. And Sherlock… I don't think I have to explain it a lot. Everyone knows what he's like; there have been numerous articles about his sociopathic behavior and 'lovely' nature. Aside from John and to some extent Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade from Scotland Yard, nobody can really stand him and he can't stand anyone except for them either. He's never really had friends (again, John and Greg are exceptions given their unbelievable patience and understanding) and never even wanted any. That's the great difference between us by the way: I always wanted to belong while Mycroft and Sherlock are even proud to be outcasts! That's the reason I felt I had to flee when I was 12… They wanted me to become like them but I couldn't."

"You must have been very lonely."

"Yes, I was. But at least I only suspected instead of knowing that I am an alien on Earth… Back then I could still hope. Now though… I have all the evidence pointing to me being a freak."

"Q, how many times do I have to tell you: you're not a freak! Stop repeating this nonsense!"

"You don't have to tell me anymore, because I understood it the first time. And I can't help it that I don't believe it anyway. Sorry."

"It's okay, I'll tell you thousand times if that's what it takes."

"The problem is: your opinion is not founded. You don't know everything…" – Now that he had begun it, it seemed he couldn't stop confessing his deepest secrets and fears anymore, desperately wanting, no, needing someone to know and maybe, just maybe: to understand. – "For example, that I literally can't sleep or eat when my brain is working like that. I'm not doing that to hurt myself. I'm just unable to stop."

"So, you're not anorexic then?"

"No. Well, at least I don't think so… Is it called anorexia even if you're not doing it with the purpose to lose weight? Or even consciously? Because I couldn't care less about how I look."

"I honestly don't know."

"Me either. Anyway, when I work on preparing an assignment different ideas just keep popping into my head: a useful new equipment or a necessary modification on the car… anything. One just follows from the other like a never-ending chain. And of course, I feel like all of them would increase the chance for success therefore none of them can wait. Besides, they'll just keep reappearing and literally screaming at me until I start working on them. It gets vexing after a while. I think I'd go crazy."

"So, you don't stop to sleep and eat just to be able to work on them?"

"I guess… It's not a decision I'm ever aware of making. It's just the way I am. I don't want to stop."

"Because all your thoughts would bother you otherwise?"

"Yes. And because I want to give the agents the best."

"And have you tried making notes of them and 'sleeping on them' as they say?"

Q thought about it. Had he tried that? He didn't think he had…

"No because I always want to hurry up with effectuating my ideas."

"You know it happens to me too sometimes when I get an idea or remember something important during the night. I can never go back to sleep unless I write these down. Then I can rest with the sure knowledge that I'll be reminded the following morning by my notes so I won't forget anything. That's why I always keep a pen and a memo block on my nightstand: that way I don't even have to get up in the middle of the night when that happens."

"That sounds… actually really feasible. I think it's absolutely worth a try!"

"I hope it's going to help! And if there's anything else…"

"No, I think that's it for now… I already feel like I've just had a session with a shrink."

"I hope I'm not that bad?" – Asked Tanner laughing.

"Oh, no, don't worry, it's just me. I hate talking about myself." – He actually shuddered at the mere thought. – "I always feel like such an idiot when I try to find the right words to my own stupidity. And I also hate it when people try to analyze me."

"I won't do it, I promise."

"Thank you, Bill."

"You're welcome."

"No, I meant: thank you for everything."

"I meant it that way too. So, what about trying out if dining in a restaurant on Champs-Élysées, sitting outside, is really such a unique experience as some sources claim it is?"

"Good idea!"

Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q

They had just ordered their meals and were enjoying the view from their tables. It had become too cold to sit outside so they had chosen a table by the window instead.

"Is it pathetic that I like Annabel even though she doesn't like me anymore?"

"No. It's something that happens to every one of us at least fifteen times in our lives… You know, son, in certain aspects, you'd had a very sheltered life until very recently. Normally by that age people have gone over that more than once."

"Did it happen to you too?"

"Oh, my dear boy, I couldn't even tell you how many times! The first time, I remember very clearly, was when I was still in kindergarten."

"Oh… was it a girl in your nursery class?"

"No, it was the teacher. You can't even begin to imagine how crushed I was when I learnt she was married and had three children. I had wanted to propose to her. I had even fished out the letter O from my tomato soup with alphabet pasta to use as an engagement ring and all."

"That's cute! Were you sad for a long time?"

"Well, no, because there was a girl in my class: she was a bit smaller than me, had a long blond ponytail, big blue eyes, and she could already count to hundred with barely messing it up in a few places! I fell in love with her the next day when she sang the Old MacDonald-song. She even kissed me once on the left cheek and made me do the animal sounds at the right places like 'moo-moo' and 'neigh-neigh'. I considered it the most embarrassing thing but still, I was very happy. We were both four years old."

Both of them laughed at that.

"Well, it seems like you took your first heartbreak with more grace then than I…"

"Well, everyone who says it gets easier with time is lying. When I was a teenager I wasn't very graceful either. I'd say you're much better than I was back then."

Their food arrived and they started to eat.

"Did you write her name on a paper twenty times then burnt it with an agent's special-top-secret lighter you'd made for them for an assignment?"

"Ahm… no. But I tore the picture of the both of us to small pieces and threw them one by one into the Thames, crying my eyes out at the same time and swearing like a sailor. If my parents had heard it, they wouldn't have let me into the house anymore. I also promised a slow and painful death to the 'other one'… Does that count?"

"I guess so."

The food was really delicious but Q felt just after a few bites totally full and couldn't continue.

"You should eat some more. Would you like something else? French food is different from what you're used to."

"No, it's fine, it's very good. But I just can't eat anymore, sorry."

"Well, what about dessert then?"

"Maybe later…" – That, they both knew, meant 'no chance'.

Tanner sighed. They would have to do something about this problem soon, he decided.

"All right."

Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q

Later they visited the Jardin du Luxembourg where they spent a considerable amount of time just looking around, enjoying the peace and quiet. Q seemed to be able to relax in the gardens, surrounded by trees and flowers more than anywhere else.

They didn't speak much just walked beside each other in companionable silence.

Since there were over a hundred statues, monuments and fountains to see, they didn't feel like they had to rush anywhere. As they were leaving the gardens to continue their sightseeing, Q declared:

"I feel like I'm walking through history and popular culture. It's amazing!"

And Tanner had to whole-heartedly agree.

Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q

By the time they had arrived to the Eiffel Tower, it was already getting dark and the lights had been turned on. Q halted on the Champ de Mars to just look at the spectacle.

"It's incredible, isn't it, how it was only supposed to stand during the 1889 World's Fair. The Parisians actually used to hate it back then. Just like the Pyramides. And now? Both are considered some of the most prominent cultural icons in France. Maybe even in whole Europe. Fascinating how things have a way of turning out to be something completely different than originally intended and believed."

"Worse or better, I wonder?"

"Hard to say sometimes."

"I agree."

The view at the city from the top of the Tower took away Q's breath.

"You can see the whole WORLD from here!"

"There are very good restaurant up here, you know."

"So I've heard. Bond has boasted about eating here every second day while they were living in Paris with Madeleine about fifty times to everyone who would listen to him. Annabel mentioned something like that as well in one of her enthusiastic e-mails."

"And would you like to be able to say that you ate here too?"

"Would you?"

"Well, maybe I could eat something."

"Then do so. But I'm not hungry."

"Q…"

"I'm really not! I'll sit with you, all right? Maybe they have tea…"

"We'll see. Come on then. We can warm up a little; it's getting very cold and windy."

Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q

It was already late in the evening when they finally returned to the hotel; very tired but happy. They still had to unpack their things because they had neglected to do it upon arrival.

"Argh, I can't find my toothbrush…" – lamented Tanner, having checked at least three times in his bag. – "I just knew I'd forget something…"

"And since I know you seemingly too well, I've brought the one you keep in my flat for you." – Laughed Q and handed Bill his spare toothbrush.

"Oh, thank God! Is there a chance you have-"

"Your shaving kit. I actually packed everything you store in my guest bathroom."

"Q, you're the best!"

"I know."

"Does that mean I also have my favorite kind of shower gel and don't have to use the small sachet provided by the hotel?"

"Yes, you have everything. Tell me, Bill, what do you have in that enormous bag if you haven't brought any toiletries?"

"Why, my clothes of course! It's pretty cold at this time of the year and we're going to spend a lot of time outdoors!"

"I hope you didn't bring any electric devices I was not allowed to have, hmm?" – Q narrowed his eyes suspiciously and tried to peek into Tanner's luggage to see if he had broken his own rule and sneaked in a laptop, mobile phone or any other 'forbidden' object.

"Clearly not, my boy. This trip is absolutely gadget-free, just like I told you it would be."

"Whatever. Well, I'm off to my room. I'm very cold and tired; I think a hot shower is in order for me and then bed. See you in the morning?"

"Yes, breakfast is from 6 AM to 10. When would you like to get up?"

"Well, we have a lot of programs for tomorrow so I'd say we shouldn't spend our trip sleeping. What do you think?"

"I absolutely agree. How about I come to your room at 6:45 and then we can walk down to have breakfast together?"

"Fantastic! And then we can be off to the Louvre right afterwards!" – The boy sounded so excited, Tanner thought he would start bouncing off the walls like a ball soon. He was glad; that had been exactly his purpose after all: to make the teenager happy. And he had managed it!

Q grabbed his own luggage and dragged it along with him to the door. Earlier he had left it at Tanner's because he had been too eager to begin exploring the city to waste time on seeking out his own room.

"Good night then!"

"Night, son, sleep well!"