Any and all reviews are welcomed and encouraged. Please enjoy this story!
~Bethany

You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between
What I thought and what I said
You are the night time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
When it's over you're the start
You're my head and you're my heart.

James took his coat and slammed the front door shut. Q could hear him running quickly down the stairs, the opening of the car door and then the engine starting up. He walked over to the window and watched as James drove away and out of sight. Q turned around on his heel, his arms were crossed across his body, either out of anger or comfort, and he just wasn't sure which. The flat was a mess. Broken dishes and photograph frames lay on the ground, along with vases and the coffee table which had been flipped over. Q stared down at the mess before bending down and starting to pick up the little pieces, making sure he didn't stand on any with his bare feet. Q's hand reached a photograph of he and James that they had taken last year, it was one of his favourites, they both looked happy and none of this shit had happened. It was a photo from James' birthday and Q had managed to convince him to wear a party hat with him. Q ran his fingers along it, mainly over James' face, he didn't care if the broken glass nicked at his fingers and made them scarlet. A clear drop of water landed on the photo and Q raised his arm and wiped more of the same clear liquid away with his sleeve.
He stood up and carried on tidying, each item he cleaned away reminded him of something that he shouldn't, or should, have said.

'Just try and understand this from my point of view.'
'If you would just pay more attention to me…'
'What are we really fighting about, James?'
'You aren't listening to me!'
'You make me feel like shit!'
'This is all your fault, James!'

Q finished tidying and looked at the clock. One forty five am. He got out of his day clothes and in to his pyjamas, and climbed in to his and James' bed. There would be no point in waiting up for him to come back, Q knew that because he was so angry, he would not be back tonight, he needed time to cool down. It took him a long time to eventually fall asleep. Q wasn't used to the emptiness next to him in the bed, nor the cold of not having James hold him as they slept, or James not stealing all the covers, just leaving Q behind with a small slither.
When he did eventually fall asleep, it was restless. He woke up every half an hour in a cold sweat; he tossed and turned under the covers, and he lay staring at the ceiling or at the empty space in the bed, running his hand along James' indentation in the mattress.
It seemed like days had passed when it was finally morning. The sky was dark and cloudy, much like how Q felt. He checked his phone. No messages. No missed calls. Q sat on the window sill, scrolling down the contacts until he reached James' name.

'I'm sorry. Please come home and we can talk about this. I'm worried about you.
All my love, Q. x'

Q kept his phone in his hand all morning or by his desk when he worked, waiting for a reply. Even if it was just a 'Fuck you', anything would make Q feel better about him not being home, just as long as James was safe. There was no sign of James all day. No one had seen him, no one had heard from him and the cold, harsh night was rolling around again. Q stayed up until two, just in case James might come back, but he soon had to face up to the reality that he would be spending another night alone.

To the crowd I was crying out and
In your place there were a thousand other faces
I was disappearing in plain sight
Heaven help me, I need to make it right

Q found himself wandering slowly through the London streets, scanning the crowd of people for James, still clutching on to his phone, just in case he called or messaged, but he never did. Every now and then, he would see someone he thought was James, but he got to them and realised that they weren't, and had to walk away feeling foolish. The longer he searched in the sea of people, the more helpless, and hopeless and alone he felt. The empty feeling in his chest just kept getting emptier, like something was just holding him at a tilt ever so slightly so that every feeling just slipped away from him like they were made of water.
'James?!' He called out frantically. Some people turned around and looked at him with a puzzled expression, but none of them were his James.
If only James would just call or text, or come home, they could sort this out properly and everything would be okay again. Q pressed dial and held the phone to his ear, he was cut off almost immediately. That feeling almost made him burst in to tears right there on the spot. Q turned back and walked home again, he couldn't stay looking for James like he had been. He was only getting his own hopes up when he knew inside that it was useless. He locked himself in the apartment and opened up all the windows so he could hear James' car when it drove back up the road. Q sat on the floor, accidentally sitting on some broken glass that he missed, and placed his phone on the floor in front of him. From this position, he could see out of the window, he could see the front door, and obviously his phone.
There was no word from him that day either. Q was starting to grow even more worried, he even had to call up MI6 and tell them that he was missing. He sent James another text message.

'How can we solve this if you're ignoring my texts and calls? I need, and want, to make this right. You can't believe how sorry I am, James.
All my love, Q. x'

He had a third night alone.

You want a revelation
You want to get it 'right'
But it's a conversation
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation

It had now been four nights since Q had last seen or heard from James. His anger had melted away completely and had turned into worry. Q had to keep calling up MI6 asking them if they had any leads or if they had heard from him. Q had them try and find him themselves, since Q's attempt did not go well. Q had barely eaten for the past few days, he felt too sick from worry and any food just didn't agree with him. He was tired, weak, lonely and broken, just like the photo frames.

'So you still haven't heard from him?' Q asked sadly, double checking with MI6. Just so he knew for sure that they didn't know anything.

'No, we haven't, but as soon as we do, we'll let you know.' Tanner reassured him over the phone. 'We'll find him.'

'Okay.' Q mumbled.

'Go to bed, Q. Try and get some sleep, have something to eat. You sound awful.' Q could almost see Tanner's concerned expression through the phone. He hung up and threw the phone across the room, upset and angry that there was still no news, and it was he that was to blame. If Q hadn't gone and said something incredibly stupid, they wouldn't have gotten in to the fight in the first place, and James wouldn't be missing. Q quickly regretted his action and crawled towards his phone, the back had fallen off and the battery had skidded across the room, he went and got it, then started to shakily put the pieces back together. He couldn't do it. Suddenly, the pieces were out of his hand again, only this time, they weren't on the floor.
The phone was back in his hands, fixed and fully functioning. Q turned on his knees and looked up with his red face from crying and tears stains covering his cheeks. His eyes and cheeks were hollow in his face from lack of food and sleep, which made him look older and more worn than he was. James stood behind him, hands in his pockets, looking just like he did when he left, only he was calmer.

Q scrambled up from the floor and extended his hands out to James' face, caressing it, and then moving them down to his torso, just to make sure that he was real, and not just some form of Q's imagination. Q's mouth broke in to a smile and a huge wave of relief washed over him. He held James close to him, but James did not return the favour. Q didn't care, James was back and he was okay and that was all that mattered in that moment. Q leaned over and kissed him, but James moved back a little. Q got the message and let go, he stood back a few paces as well.

'Where the hell were you?!' Q exclaimed. 'I called and I left messages and I heard nothing back from you! You were gone for days, I didn't know where you were and I was sat here alone worrying about you!' Q stepped closer, shouting at James, his anger from a few nights ago returning, thick and heavy. He stopped, waiting for James to answer him. 'Where were you, James?' Q asked him softly when James didn't answer him. Q raised his hand and touched James' face lightly. There was a small healing cut on his cheek where Q had thrown a plate at the wall in anger, and one of the broken shards had skimmed his face. Q lightly traced the injury with his thumb, regretting every word he had said, and every action he had made. He knew that wasn't the only injury on James he had caused. That just made him hate himself more for doing any of it at all in the first place.
James pulled his hand from his pocket and held Q's wrist, they looked at each other in the eyes for a few seconds. Q's heart beat was going crazy and his eyes were scanning James' face for signs that he had come back to accept his apology so that they could just move on from all of this. James moved Q's hand away and dropped his wrist, he dug his hands back in to his pockets, still not saying a word.
The longer that James was silent, the angrier Q became.
'For goodness sake, James! Why did you come back if you weren't going to talk to me?!' Q yelled. 'You being away and not saying anything to me, that's fine! But coming back and not talking to me when I can see how angry and upset you are, no.' Q lowered his voice. 'No, that's not fair. I feel guilty enough as it is without this.' Q shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest.

'I'm waiting for you to make it right. Like you said you wanted to do.' James shouted back, pointing directly at Q every time he said 'you' and emphasising the word.

'How can I when you wouldn't talk to me?!' Asked Q with his raised voice.

'Go on then, I'm talking. Now resolve this. Go on. I'm waiting. I want to get it right as much as you do, but I'm waiting for you to do what you said you would.' James had his hand on his hips. Q looked at them, he couldn't help but notice that James' hands were too large to rest on his own his hips, however Q's hands fit perfectly there, and he knew that. He wished that he could hold him there now.

Q shook his head.
'No, I'm not having this conversation tonight. You've been gone for days, I'm tired and angry, I don't want to go to bed on an argument. So please, can we just forget this until tomorrow?' He looked at James' face and the wound he caused. 'I've missed you so much…' He whispered the last part.

'There you go again, avoiding the point!' James shouted.
They carried on shouting at each other for a while, they got calls from neighbours telling them to keep the noise down but they were too loud to hear them. But when they did hear, they chose to ignore it.

'I'm going to sleep in the car.' James stormed back out of the door. Q ran over to the window and leaned out of it, waiting for James to reach the car.

'That's right, sleep outside with the rest of the dogs!' he shouted out. James stared at him and then got in to the back seat of his car, slamming that door shut. Q took his head away from the window and slammed that shut too. He walked to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. He fell on to his side and curled up in to a ball, crying in to his knees. Why did it always have to end this way?

Would you leave me
If I told you what I'd done?
And would you leave me
If I told you what I'd become?
Because it's so easy
To say it to a crowd
But it's so hard, my love
To say it out loud to you.

Morning came in a flash and Q dragged himself out of bed and looked out the window. James' car was still there so that was promising. He turned away and flipped the switch on the kettle so it started boiling. He looked in the fridge but found nothing he would be interested in eating in there.
He closed it and waited for the kettle to finish boiling, he chewed the skin around his thumb as he stared at the steam coming from the kettle's spout. The switch flipped back and Q dug around for a mug, he really needed to buy a new lot, since most of them had been thrown and smashed a few days ago. He made his cup of Earl Grey and sat by the window, staring out at it.
Once he had finished, Q placed the mug in the sink and put on his slippers. He journeyed out of the apartment and to the car. He tapped on the window. There was no reply. Q pulled on the car door and it opened, he slid inside and immediately noticed the smell of booze.
Q gently shook James, he was already awake, but he just wanted to make sure.
'Are you ready to come and talk about this?' Q asked softly as he ran his hands gently through James' thinning hair.
James sat up and sighed.

'Are you?' he mumbled back at him.

'Of course I am. I also wanted to say that I didn't mean to call you a dog. I'm very sorry.' Q looked at James' unimpressed face. It was just as tired as Q's and he had stubble under his chin.

'It sounded like you meant it.' James smirked sadly and raised his arm. There was a half empty bottle of scotch in it. He drank from it and then dropped his arm down again. Q reached over to try and take it from him, but James just held it closer to him, and held it tighter.

'Come on, let go. You don't need that.' Q told him as he tried reasoning with James. 'We can't talk about this properly if you've been drinking.' He rest his hands on James' arms so he could try and take it from him when he next went to drink from it.

'Yes we can.' James simply said.

Q tried to wrestle the bottle free from James' grasp but James managed to fight back. There wasn't much room to fight in the back of a car, so both of them kept managing to bang the top of their heads on the roof of the car. During the fight for the bottle, they started to shout and yell and scream at each other once more. They banged their heads on the passenger seat windows too as they carried on their war. Neither of them really knew if they were fighting over the bottle, over the argument they had the night before, or the argument that took place five nights before.
Q found he was knelt over James in the back seat. James lay on his back, holding the bottle close to him and looking up at his partner's concerned gaze.

'Give me the bottle!' Q demanded, grabbing the neck of it, trying to pull it upwards. He pulled the bottle too hard and it flew out of James' grip, hitting the window and smashing. The scotch and the glass went everywhere.
James watched the liquid drip down the window, his heart beat fast and he was shocked that Q had managed to break it like that. Q himself was shocked. He sat up and looked at the glass that covered the back seat and then at the dripping liquid. He swallowed his nerves and turned back to James. 'Now we can talk.'

James reached up and stumblingly kissed Q. Q didn't react at first, but then he started to kiss him back. It took him a few moments to realise that James' mouth tasted like alcohol and unclean teeth. Then he remembered that he was angry at James and that James should really be angry with Q. He pulled away slightly and muttered a 'no'. James ignored it and pulled Q closer, kissing him again. Q tried to struggle away from the alcohol influenced James but found it to be difficult. He mustered all the energy that he could and pushed him away, James' head collided with the window.
Q got out of the car quickly.

'Come up when you actually want to talk.' He slammed the door shut and went back to the apartment. He walked in to the bathroom and washed his face free from the spilled scotch and took off his pyjama shirt so that he could change it, as that too was covered in scotch.
The door to the apartment opened and James stumbled inside.

'Q?' he asked, looking around the room. Q walked out of the bathroom with his shirt in his hand. James looked at Q's ever so lightly bruised and cut torso and his eyes softened. Q wondered if James regretted doing that to him during their first fight. Probably not. After all, Q had accidentally managed to hurt James too. What goes around comes around. It probably wasn't a good idea to have gotten so angry that he had to resort to throwing things.
'What could you possibly have to say to me?' James asked.

Q put his t-shirt on and his hands on his hips.

'I love you. I'm sorry. I made a mistake. But that's what humans do, we make mistakes and then we learn from them. Admitting that I was wrong to you is the hardest thing.' Q walked a little closer to James.

'And have you learned?' James wondered.

'Of course I have.' Q ran his fingers through his own hair and sighed heavily. 'I hate what I've become, James. I've become someone who hurts you, and that was something I never wanted to be.' Q could feel the tears coming again. 'I just don't want you to leave for good. You were gone for four days and I became more of a wreck than I already was. I couldn't sleep or eat; I was going out of my mind.' Q just let the tears fall off of his chin. 'I'm sorry and I love you so much.'

James stood and stared at Q, intimidating him and making him feel smaller than he did.
'You should have thought about that before you fucked up our relationship, shouldn't you?'

Q started to cry harder.
'Is that it? Are you leaving?' He asked moving closer to him and wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders. Q looked at James' eyes and then kissed him again, ignoring the taste coming from him. James said nothing for about two minutes before Q spoke again. 'Please answer me. Please…'

No light, No light
In your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, No light
Tell me what you want me to say

James pushed Q away. He looked like he might be a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any moment. Q could see that James' bright blue eyes weren't shiny and full of life any more, they were dull and empty. Q used to be able to see how much James loved him through those eyes, but now he wasn't so sure that he could any more. They seemed harsh and full of hatred. But then again, Q thought, if he were James, he would hate him too. Q noticed that James had started to cry now too.

'You hurt me, Q. Emotionally and physically-' James began to say, but Q cut him off mid-sentence.

'And you did the same to me.' He reminded him.

James carried on talking, ignoring Q's input to the conversation.
'Despite everything you've done, I still love you and that's what scares me the most.' James took a deep breath and let it out shakily. 'And that's why I think that if I don't get out of this now, I never will.' Q looked at him in disbelief and started to cry harder. 'Don't talk to me at work unless it's absolutely essential; don't get anyone to send me notes from you. Delete my number. I'm going to have moved out by the end of the day.'

'No!' Q shouted through tears. 'No, that's not what's going to happen. You can't just slowly fade me out of your life, that's not how this works! If you still love me, then we have something to work on!' Q carried on yelling. His heart felt broken, his throat was hoarse, he felt like his whole world was just crashing and burning around him.

James walked away from him and started to grab his stuff, he dumped it all into a bin liner and left it on the floor so that he could just walk by and chuck his things in to it. Q went to the bag and took everything James had put in to it, out and back to their usual place. James would just come by and put it all back in to the bag. The cycle continued on until James grabbed Q's wrists tightly.

'Stop it.' He said strongly, still keeping a tight grip on Q's wrists so he couldn't move them. His hands started to go purple. Q looked at them and then up at James, his eyes still seemed dark and dead.

'James, let go…' Q whimpered. 'You're hurting me…'

James looked like he had just been snapped out of a trance and he immediately let go. Perhaps he had decided that both of them had already been hurt physically enough in the fights that they had.
'I'm sorry.' He mumbled to him. 'But let me pack my stuff.'

'No. We're not supposed to end this way.' Q sniffed, taking the bin liner and tipping it upside down so everything fell out of it and on to the floor. James watched him and then pushed him away from the mound of items belonging to James, including his clothes, ornaments and books. James knelt down and started to pack it all back up. Q went up behind James and started to kiss the back of his neck.
'Please don't go. We're supposed to grow old together.' He cried softly in to James' shoulder. 'What do you want me to say, James?'

'A simple goodbye will do.' James shrugged and Q sat away from him.

'I'll do anything to make you stay, James. You know I will. Just name it and I'll do it.'

James tied up the bin liner, still ignoring the begging that was coming from Q. He didn't want to leave, of course he didn't. James just thought it was the best thing to do. Sometimes the 'I love you' doesn't work, this was one of those times. There was just too much damage that had been done to be fixed with three words.

'Listen to me, James!' Q screeched. 'Leaving is not the answer! Please just say you forgive me and we can kiss and make up, then we can order a pizza or something. You can't just kiss me, tell me you love me and then leave me!' Q didn't notice at first but as he screamed the last sentence at James, he was nose to nose with him. James stared at Q in the eyes and shook his head.

'Get out of my way.' He demanded softly and Q refused. 'Get out of my way!' James shouted louder than Q had done but Q still stood his ground. James knocked Q out of the way and he landed with a smack on the floor. James just stared at him and then went towards the front door. But Q grabbed his hand and pulled him back inside.

'You're not going anywhere!' Q cried.

Before they knew it, the events of the first fight were repeating themselves. Harsh words were said, and even harsher punches were thrown. The remaining china and glass was bouncing off the walls. Both of them nearly lost their voices in this fight. Apologises were said, and apologies were diminished.
Q's favourite photograph was torn and burned, leaving Q just feeling hopeless. The apartment was a mess again, and Q knew that he would have to clean it all up again, all the glass would have to be disposed of properly and the paintings on the walls needed to be hung straight again. But he knew that as soon as he did that, it would erase the evidence that James had ever lived there at all.
James was red in the face, a small glass splinter stuck in his neck but he pulled it out and chucked it carelessly on the floor. He was breathing heavily from fighting off Q for so long and he put his hand on the door handle, his other hand clutched on to his bag of personal items. Q looked back at James, blood on his face from hitting the corner of the coffee table when he fell down. He too was out of breath and in pain.

'We're done here.' Breathed James.

'If you leave now, James, you can never come back!' Q shouted out in a cry.
James' bright blue eyes met Q's dark brown ones. There was no lament in them. There was no light in them. There was no love in them.

The door opened and James was gone.