The extraction from China had taken the better part of two days. Red tape that should have magically dissolved under Q's manipulation became tangled ever tighter, restricting their movements and delaying their return to England. Comms with Q-branch had mysteriously suffered intermittent failures, and their plane was grounded for over six hours while a technical fault was investigated. If Bond was a superstitious man he would have believed something was determined to prevent him returning home.
Overall Bond was in remarkably good shape for someone who had been held for three days. His captors had barely begun to flex their muscles, so heavy bruising and a few nasty cuts were the sum total of his injuries. He had been denied food, but they had been generous with his water, so he was lucid and functioning, in spite of the agonising cramps in his stomach. He was unbelievably tired and all he wanted was to curl up in bed with Q and sleep for hours in his lover's arms, so he ducked out of MI6 avoiding both Medical and his debrief and headed home.
The first sign that that something was amiss was the absolute deathly silence of their flat. When Q moved in he arrived with a sizeable quantity of electronic kit that normally sat in the corner of the living room, providing a constant background hum of fans and the occasional beep or chime when a message landed in one of the many inboxes Q monitored. After a couple of weeks Bond stopped noticing the noise, unless it ceased as it had now. The hush was unnerving, absolute. Most of the kit was still there, but it was all powered down, and there were spaces in the setup where favoured pieces of tech had once been situated. Gun in hand, Bond made a tour of the flat, ending in the bedroom.
Q had been thorough, he'd give him that. Apart from the computer hardware, everything that was Q had been removed from the flat completely, leaving gaping holes where he should be. There was no note, no explanation. He was just gone.
Q-branch scattered like frightened rabbits when the furious 00-agent marched through their midst, only one brave soul daring to impede his progress, nervously stepping into his path to inform him that Q was busy and did not want to be disturbed by anybody, the clear implication being Bond in particular. Bond snapped his ice-blue eyes to him and growled, sending the young man scuttling back to his desk with a worried look at the open door of Q's office.
Q was at his desk, fingers flashing over the keyboard, eyes glued to the screen. He didn't look up when Bond entered, although he must have heard the general panicked murmuring from the office beyond. Bond regarded him silently, waiting for an explanation.
"You're back," Q said. "I had rather hoped to delay you sufficiently to remove the remainder of my belongings, but 003 got into a bit of a fix in..."
"I don't care about 003," Bond said, low, dangerous. "I want to know what the hell is going on Q."
"John Watson."
"What?" Bond stilled, cool eyes cautiously assessing everything about his lover. Taut posture, eyes fixed ferociously on the computer before him, lower lip clamped between his teeth in determination not to break down, not to give in.
"You fucked John Watson and you didn't tell me," he bit out, immediately nipping his lip again. Q still hadn't looked at him, to all appearances completely focused on whatever he was doing, but the faintest tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Bond shifted his posture, stance becoming more arrogant, more confident… protected. "Well it worked didn't it? Sent him back into Sherlock's arms? I'm almost insulted that he prefers your lanky brother to me, but that was the objective."
"Flippancy is not your friend 007."
"Double-oh...? Oh come on Q..."
"You lied to me."
"I didn't lie."
"By omission. Same thing."
"For god's sake Q, it was your stupid plan. 'Treat it like a mission', you said, so I did exactly that." He slammed Q's laptop shut, the younger man only just managing to whip his fingers away before they jammed under the lid. "Look at me!" Q stared at Bond's hand where it rested forcefully on the computer. There was dirt under his fingernails, cuts and scrapes on his knuckles, but they were the hands he loved. Hands that had held him, cherished him, loved him.
"You didn't tell me. You let me believe it hadn't gone that far. And it wasn't a mission," he finished softly, voice trailing away to be barely audible.
Bond let out a roar of frustration, slamming Q's office door and locking it. Q had installed various electronic locking devices on it, but for Bond's immediate purpose of keeping the concerned Q-branch kids out the good old Yale would do. "You cannot hold me responsible..." He began but Q cut him off, rallying, impossibly cultured accent breaking on the words.
"Do you have any idea how humiliating it is for one of your department juniors to bring evidence of your boyfriend's infidelity to you?"
"I... What? I don't understand..."
"When an agent is taken by an unknown group it is standard procedure to look beyond their official activities for a motive. We knew your kidnapping had nothing to do with your mission, so all areas of your life were reviewed, including records pertaining to your personal mobile."
"I thought there was no official monitoring of our private devices."
"Clearly. Your call and message history certainly would support your belief."
"Fuck! It's not what it looks like..."
"Eloquent as ever, 007. Please don't insult me further James. This is difficult enough. I would like you to leave my office." A broken sob escaped, was choked back. Q clawed for composure, not willing to show the pain that was tearing his insides to shreds.
"No, I'm not going anywhere until you listen. I got carried away, took it too far, I'm sorry, but I didn't intend to..."
"Cheat? Really? You booked a fucking hotel James! That's not flirting getting out of hand while we're staying in their home, that's deliberately and intentionally destroying our relationship for no other reason than your own ego! John wanted you and you couldn't resist. You arranged something beyond the parameters of what I asked of you and you kept it secret. Honesty, James, that's the only way I cope with you fucking anything that breathes while you're on a mission. If you tell me it happened then I can compartmentalise it as 'work', but the minute you keep it from me..."
"That's not... I mean... Christ! Don't do this please Q, I'll beg if that's what it takes. It was all part of your plan and we didn't go to a hotel, I promise you. Believe me please, you must."
"Out! If I need to, I'll have you thrown out, but let's try to maintain some semblance of dignity."
James shoulders sagged, defeated. This whole situation was Q's fault for roping him into something he knew instinctively was a bad idea.
"This isn't fair Q. I did what you asked of me, you can't blame me entirely. I thought admitting John and I had sex would change things between us and I didn't want that to happen. I love you. I don't want to lose you over this."
Q finally looked at him, green eyes dulled with pain. "Please James, just go…"
James left.
