[A.N: Okay. So, if you haven't already realised, I've been writing A LOT of 00Q stuff. I'm sorry but you can't have an OTP and not write about it, I mean that's the definition of insane, right? (that was rhetorical, don't answer that out loud because if you're in a public place you'll look weird.) Anyways, I've read a lot of fanfictions and I've read my fair share of 00Q and I've read quite a few about Bond losing his memory and Q being really upset about it, but I haven't even seen, let alone read, a fic where Q loses his memory and Bond has to deal with Q not remembering him. So here's a fanfiction about Q losing his memory. P.S... I'm sorry]
[Sometimes the characters are written out of character, due to lack of information (On my part) Of the character's personal and social life]
Warnings: Swearing.
Inspiration: 'Losing Your Memory Now." Ryan Star
Genre: Angst, humor (Possibly)
Q's POV
The adrenaline shot through my body like lightning and immediately I leaped to the left. I heard a grunt come from my right indicating Bond hadn't got out of the way fast enough.
'damn' I whispered, I should've pushed him away first, It's irrisponsible of me to assume that, in his current state, he is capable of defending himself. I opened my eyes and saw Bond. He was on the floor, leaning back with his arms propping his upper body up. The attacker advanced on him holding a length of aluminium pipe and my instincts kicked in. I hauled myself to my feet and everything seemed to slow down. Putting one foot in front of the other I began to sprint. I watched as the attacker brought the pipe above his head, with stone cold eyes and a look that could kill. I didn't have enough time. I took a risk and jumped. I bent my knees and propelled my body forwards as hard as I could. I felt a sharp pain on my head and I hit the floor on my side. The dirty, concrete and cold floor. I felt blood trickle it's way down from my forehead across my cheeks, across my nose and it got caught on my bottom lip. I tasted the coppery, metallic substance and seconds later deafening gunshots rang out from where Bond and the attacker held their confrontation and something inside me knew that Bond had met his untimely demise. My eyes fluttered, eyelids getting heavier and heavier with every passing second before I couldn't keep them open any longer. They drifted closed. Everything went black and I was sure I was dead... or at least in the process of dying. I thought about everything. How I risked my life for Bond, how the last thing I tasted was the metallic taste of my own blood. I thought about how Bond died too. About how we were bother mere metres away from each other yet we both died utterly and agonizingly alone.
Bond's POV
I sat in the hospital waiting room. It was somewhat dark due to what seemed like the lack of a good mechanic, even thought it doesn't take a mechanic to change a light bulb... or several. My leg was shaking and my head hung low. I swear it was like a scene from a movie, where someone's in surgery or something and the best friend or the lover or the family is just sat... waiting. I always thought they were exaggerating those scenes way too much but now I'm here, now I'm actually experiencing what they're going through, I understand that it's not even close to the hurt that sits in your heart, or the ache in your soul. The usual questions were running through my mind, the regular pessimistic choruses of 'What if he doesn't make it?' and 'What if he's not the same?'. I shook my head, hoping to eradicate the negativity. No luck. "What would Q do?" I asked myself. After hard thinking I just chuckled, there's no getting into that boy's head. Then it hit me. It registered in my brain. He saved my life. He saved my life and, in doing so, risked his own. I was trained for the field, I was trained to put other people before me in the field. Q wasn't. Q's just a tech nerd, he wasn't told why to prioritize other people, he wasn't told how, or even told he should. Hell he probably didn't think he even could. But he did. He put me before himself and effectively saved my life... at the cost of his own.
"Mr Bond?" A voice echoed from the other side of the room. A woman appeared from behind a pair of doors. The same doors that engulfed Q a little over two hours ago. The same two that barricaded me out here and him in there. I shot to my feet and said
"Yes?"
"He's awake..." She told me. Being an MI6 agent, the reading of body language and tone of voice was extremely important and was taught to us as if it was as vital as knowing how to breathe. Her's told me it wasn't good. I mean sure, she said he's awake so he's not dead... but there's definitely something... something wrong. She waved me over and I padded towards her. We walked for several minutes down a clean white and sterile hospital corridor and she stopped. She turned to me with sympathy shining unmistakeably in her deep brown eyes and my heart dropped. She gestured towards a door on the left and I turned to look. I could see Q through a small window in the door. He was sat on the edge of the bed, with his head in his hands, his hair all tousled up and, by the way his body was shuddering, he looked to be crying. I gulped.
"Can I...?" I said, actually making sure my voice was working properly before I approached him.
"Of course."
Bond's POV
I stepped cautiously in, the woman's sympathetic look still in the back of my mind.
"Hey..." I said softly, assuring him of my presence. The last thing I wanted was for me to startle him, especially in the unstable state he seems to be in right now. Even my scarce whisper seemed to make him flinch. His eyes snapped to mine and he sat, rigid, on the edge of the hospital bed. "How you feeling?". He stared at me blankly, his eyes nothing but green and black circles on a white background. No emotion. No nothing. "You okay?" I asked and he cocked his head to the side like a puppy who didn't understand. Usually that action would cause a smile to spread across my features but it was done so robotic, so cold, so... sharp... His eyes narrowed and I frowned. He was being unusually closed towards me. "Q?". It was his turn to frown.
"'Q'?" He asked, just hearing his voice like this... it was so heartbreaking. It was so quiet, so cracking... so forced. It's usual optimistic tone was replaced completely with a lugubrious one.
"Yes..."
"That's not my name..." He replied and there was so much confusion on his face and in his words. He lifted his left arm, revealing a hospital inpatient band. He studied it closely before looking back at me and saying "Quinn."
"I'm sorry?" I queried, assuming I'd misheard
"It says, right here, my name's 'Quinn'."
"Quinn?"
"Yes. Quinn.". I felt horrible but all I could do was laugh. A chuckle escaped my throat and he looked a mixture of offended and the same confusion that had been etched onto his face since I entered the room.