As Bond expects, Medical is less than impressed by his dressing skills. Then again, he was being chased at the time, and he actually succeeded in stopping the bleeding. Always tedious, having to explain about blood and gunshot wounds at airport security.
While he is being seen to, Tanner lingers close by, nervously clutching his papers. Bond wonders what has gone wrong this time. Using Norway as his transit route back to London is probably causing a lot of diplomatic havoc, but M should be on top of things. And Q certainly made sure things went better than Bond anticipated. Much better, in fact. Not something, Bond has come to expect from Boothroyd's minions, of lately. Having to divert to Norway to outrun the Russians was his last option at the time, precisely because he had been given a faulty and misleading report in the first place. He will have words with him later, for now, Boothroyd is preoccupied with extracting data from the hard drive and a bunch of USB sticks, Bond brought back with him. Apparently, the sticks hold vital information about a new weapons system, currently under development by the Russians.
No, it's not Boothroyd and his incompetent minions, Bond wants to think about, while the doctor and the nurse patch him back together. It's Q. When he answered Bond's call, Bond was in dire straits. Q taking immediate control, not even asking questions–it was a pleasant surprise. At times, it felt as if Q was reading his mind, giving instructions even before Bond realised he needed them. Yes, it is Q, Bond would like to meet up with, not Tanner or M.
Finally, the nurse is satisfied with the new bandage, and Bond receives his penicillin and pain killers. Tanner bites his lip, never a good sign, and stays silent–even worse–on their way to M's office.
Bond braces himself for whatever scolding might come from M. Indeed she looks like thunder impersonated, when Tanner opens the heavy door to her office.
"Bond," M barely acknowledges him, indicating one of the chairs in front of her desk.
"M," Bond replies, sitting down and crossing his legs.
Tanner takes the other chair, still silent. M looks at the papers in front of her.
"Q," she said, "he was your handler?"
"Only on the last part of the mission, M'am. I couldn't reach anyone else," Bond says, wary now.
Something in M's tone of voice is off.
"He's an omega," M says.
"As are you," Bond replies with a smirk as he remembers the first exchange he had with Q.
"Q is a male omega. An unbonded male omega," M's voice is dangerously low, every single syllable clearly pronounced.
Bond cannot hide his surprise. Since when does MI6 employ unbonded male omegas?
M sighs.
"Yes," she answers the unasked question. "Normally, we wouldn't. And I've had my doubts from the beginning. But Q was handpicked by Boothroyd from the Institute. A few years back, it would have been against the law."
Bond is well aware of the so-called equality laws. Heavily contested in the late 1990's, they have been challenged and watered down ever since.
"He is a genius in his field. Boothroyd was sure he could keep him in line, but after this stunt in Norway–," M shakes her head, almost looking as if she is actually sorry.
Bond's face becomes a mask. He owes Q his life.
"He did what he needed to do to get me and the intel back, alive and safe," Bond's voice is as cold as ice. "It was the incompetence of Boothroyd's other minions which made Norway my only line of escape in the first place."
M looks unimpressed.
"Tanner will investigate his actions. We suspect, he accessed programmes and servers without proper security clearance."
M looks at Bond. She fiddles with the papers in front of her.
"He is a security risk, 007. As long as this investigation is pending, I will have to detain him."
Bond keeps his features schooled, and stays silent, not giving away the smallest hint of his inner turmoil. Tanner clears his throat. M nods at him.
"Yes, Tanner. Go ahead."
Tanner bites his lower lip, clearly uncomfortable.
"Well, uhm, Q is currently in heat. It would be a good time to, well," Tanner looks helplessly at M, avoiding any eye contact with Bond.
"It would be a good time to kill two birds with one stone, 007!"
M looks straight at Bond. He grinds his teeth. They had this conversation a few times before, hypothetical back then. He draws a deep breath. M is deadly serious, Tanner is far more nervous and more anxious than he is letting on. Bond himself has every muscle tensed, ready to fight. His fingers dig into the expensive leather of the armrest.
"Just to be clear," Bond drawls, his eyes locked with M's.
"You are suggesting that I," Bond clears his throat, "that I rape Q, force a bond with him, to–"
M does not blink. She holds Bond's look. Her fingers tap on her desk.
"Yes," she says, as Bond falls silent.
"A male omega will always be a security challenge, bonded or not. But a bond, 007, will give you a much needed grounding in your work."
As if to prove a point, she pulls out three of his latest mission reports.
"Your results have been less than satisfying," her eyes narrow, daring him to disagree.
"Of course, your omega would be dedicated as your handler on missions, and this Q is obviously useful for Boothroyd as well," M states matter of fact. "Look at it as a mutually beneficial necessity for everyone."
Except Q, Bond thinks. He flexes his fingers, lets them glide along the armrest.
"And if I say no?"
M shrugs.
"As I said, Tanner is investigating and Q will be detained until further notice."
Tanner looks up at that.
"You know, 007, nothing much would change for you. If you decide that Q is a mismatch, you could just break the bond. No harm done."
Except for Q, Bond repeats in his mind. But he keeps silent. He has used sex, coercion, and force before. He has a license to kill. But this would be different. Most of all, impossible. Bond has secrets of his own. Not even M knows or even suspects. If she ever finds out, detention would the least of his problems. Much more probable would be a court martial including a firing squad, one James Bond, 007, silently disposed off in the middle of the night. Never to be seen or heard of again.
M watches him intently. Bond clears his throat.
No. This is no longer just about him or just about Q. They are in it together. M is right. Q could provide Bond with a much needed grounding. But probably not the way, she thinks. All Bond has to go on are the past hours, in which Q has guided and helped him. Their shared banter. Q not budging, giving as good as he got. And keeping up with the challenges, Bond's escape route provided. Not much to build a relationship on, but deep down Bond knows that he trusts Q. The question is whether Q trusts him. And he needs time, time to explain himself to Q. To gauge how much Bond can give away of his own secrets.
Bond looks back up at M, with the smallest of gestures he gives his consent.
"Very well then, 007. Tanner has a set of keys and will give you the number of Q's flat. If you need anything, contact Tanner."
M checks the paper in front of her.
"You'll have the upcoming week off. That should suffice to allow for the necessary bonding time."
Bond stands, straightening his suit. Tanner hands him a set of keys and mumbles a flat number. M dismisses both of them with a wave of her hand. Bond leaves.
Bond is not one to avoid a challenge. Q being in heat might complicate things, but it's the one thing Bond is more than well suited to help him through. Bond is on a mission. No plan, no backup–and the outcome depends on an unbonded omega in the firm grip of his heat.
