Chapter 2
Skyfall had been a disaster.
Q looked over the area, having arrived with the helicopters to see about damage control, only to see Bond, looking stoic and, yet, somehow forlorn, as medics covered M with a white sheet and shifted her body to the waiting carrier.
"007," Q greeted him quietly. "Sitrep?"
Bond looked at him blankly, then his face cleared a bit at the question. As if by rote, he answered, "Silva is dead. M is dead. My parents' home is in shambles. My Aston Martin is deader than dead." He sighed deeply, and covered ice blue eyes with a hand. "I think that covers it."
Q nodded. "Thank you, 007." He paused, then looked out at the devastation. "Can I offer my assistance in any way?"
"Can you make this all go away?" Bond mumbled from behind his hand, the normally tough-as-nails agent unaware that Q's sensitive ears could pick up every word. Bond straightened up. "Not that I can think of, Q. But thanks."
Q nodded again, wishing he could openly repair the devastation in front of him with a quick wave of his wand. But that wouldn't do. Not only was it against regs for MI6, it would violate a significant chunk of the statute of secrecy to do so at present, with as many muggles as were on the ground at the moment. But there was one thing... "Take me to your car, Bond. Let me see if there's anything I can do there, since I obviously can't do anything here, any longer."
Bond looked up and saw only sincerity in the bright green eyes of the man before him. "Come on, then. Thought it's been blown up so thoroughly, I doubt there's anything you can do."
"Won't know til we look, eh?" Q smiled faintly, then followed Bond across the massive lawn to the outbuilding where the burned-out shell of the Aston Martin waited. Q gave a low whistle. "Poor girl," he murmured, running his hands over the frame and using a nonverbal diagnostic to feel the metal's tensile strength. The metal frame sang under his hands, minutely repairing itself at a molecular level. "The frame's still sound," he said, before looking under the hood. Parts were scrambled and blackened, but not obliterated. He could repair this. "Parts are all still here, just shambles. It'll take some time, and some attention, Bond, but I could repair this. If you want me to."
Bond looked at him closely. "Are you sure?"
Q smiled more widely. "Yes, Mr. Bond, the patient will live. She just needs a little time in hospital with Dr. Q."
Bond smiled for the first time since Q had shown up. "Dr. Q?"
Q cleared his throat. "Well, I do hold doctorates in physics and engineering, so it's not entirely inaccurate," he said crisply, adding a wink.
"And yet you look like you're barely out of adolescence," Bond retorted. "Were you a child genius or something?"
Q's smile faded. "Or something." He turned away, crouching to get a look underneath at the drive train.
Bond frowned again. "I didn't mean to hit a sore spot, if I did."
"No, no," Q waved him off from his perch half under the car, nimbly turning to slide himself behind the front tyres. "You're fine. Just don't always like to be reminded of my childhood out of the blue like that. No worries." He hummed.
Bond watched the man wiggle under his car and appreciated the sleek lines of his clearly adult body. Lean and lithe, lightly muscled, yet obviously limber and strong, Q's body offered Bond a feast for his eyes, intentionally or not. And Bond rather thought Q was not trying to display himself, just looking at the car.
Interesting, Bond thought at the flicker of arousal that went through him. Then his eyes wandered back to the helicopter, where medics were now securing M's body, and the flicker died.
"Need help getting out from under there?" Bond asked politely.
"Nope, I've got it," Q clambered back out, ignoring the sooty mud that had accumulated on his overcoat and restraining himself from throwing an automatic cleaning charm at it. Woudn't do to be caught out over a cleaning charm, he reminded himself. "Do you need a ride back to HQ?"
"Ah, no," Bond said, shaking his head. "I'm thinking I'll just ..."
"Ah," Q repeated after him. "Shall I pretend I don't know what I think I shouldn't know?"
"If you would."
"Well, then, I'll arrange for the Aston to be transported to my private workshop for a little TLC," Q said. "I'm sure you can manage on your own." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "Please do get in contact if you need anything I can provide."
Bond's eyes widened at the unintentional offer, and that flicker of arousal re-lit. "Anything?" he asked huskily.
Q's eyes dilated faster than Bond would have thought possible. "Oh, um. Maybe. If I get dinner first. And possibly a date. I'm not really a three-dates sort, and I haven't had a casual shag in ages...shutting up now."
Impossibly, Bond laughed. "We'll see about dinner then, maybe, when I return."
"I think I'd enjoy that, almost as much as I'll enjoy having my hands on your Aston," Q flirted back.
"And I'll enjoy having your hands on me," Bond replied huskily, before fading into the shadows of the outbuilding and walking away.
Q bit his lip.
This was going to be trouble. Good thing he was fond of trouble.
