[Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter seems a bit slow, still had a bit of a foundation to build before things pick up significantly next chapter. :-D]
By the time Bond stopped into Q-branch at half-past noon the next day Q was already in full swing, guiding 004 smoothly through an op. Bond suspected that Q had arrived no later than 11:55 a.m. on the dot. He snickered as an image passed through his mind of Q waiting outside the glass doors of Q-branch for his ban to be lifted, like a forlorn puppy scratching at the window of a pet shop.
He was not sure what kind of reception to expect, but Q flashed him a quick smile and it seemed only natural for Bond to settle into what had become his usual spot a few paces away at Q's side, watching him work.
The mission seemed low-risk — relatively routine surveillance and hardly worth the time of a double-oh, but Q nonetheless gave it his full attention, his usual crisp and decisive style on full display in contrast to his befuddled exhaustion of the night before.
"Keep following, 004. It would be nice to get to the hotel ahead of the target, but he never books in advance, damn him. Just walks in with enough cash to get a room wherever he'd like. No record of him ever having stayed...hold, please."
Q whipped his head around as his thumb jammed a switch on a tiny remote. "Bond. If you were a paranoid nouveau-riche Belarusian arms dealer in Ankara, where would you stay? Divan Cukurhan or Swissotel Ankara?"
Bond blinked, momentarily startled at being addressed, but recovered quickly. "With entourage?"
"At least three security personnel." "The Swissotel," Bond said without hesitation. "Cukurhan has all the rooms arranged around a central lobby, it's a nightmare to secure. No one can be stationed outside the door without being visible and targeted from any angle."
"Excellent." Q jammed the switch back into position. "004, proceed to the Swissotel, directions are being uploaded to your mobile now."
"Ask for Gamze," Bond suggested. "She'll put Margot behind the front desk if she wants."
"Brilliant. 004, ask for Gamze. Wire up the room before Kovalchuk gets there. Report back when the cameras are in place. You'll be in my ear if anything comes up. Signing off."
Q's grey-green eyes were bright as they flicked to Bond and then away. "Thank you, 007, that was quite helpful," Q said, apparently addressing his laptop screen.
"My pleasure," Bond replied smoothly.
Q continued to tap away at his laptop, but a slight smile quirked the corner of his mouth.
Bond watched Q for a few minutes more, and then left to begin his weight regimen. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass door of Q-branch as it opened, and to his surprise realized that he was smiling as well.
Q slid the metal tray over to Bond. "A new Walther. Palmprint recognition again, but this one delivers a moderate electrical shock to anyone else who tries to fire it. Incapacitating for approximately five minutes, don't lend it to any of your girlfriends." He flicked a glance at Bond, his grey-green eyes bright with mischief. "No boomerang capabilities as of yet."
Bond glower at the mention of 'his girlfriends' turned reluctantly into a soft laugh as he settled the Walther into his holster. Q continued his recitation serenely.
"A radio — the battery time has been boosted; should last up to three days, although I would hope if it comes to that we wouldn't take even half that long to retrieve you. It also has a button...here..." Q's slender index finger traced affectionately over an almost undetectably small button. "...Which allows you to interrupt the signal to send a message in Morse code, should you have any particular information to communicate besides the usual 'I'm bollixed, come get me.'"
"Clever," Bond said, partly because it was true and partly for the pleasure of watching the tips of Q's ears turn pink.
"At least you Naval recruits don't need any lessons in Morse like some of the other double-ohs," Q said dryly.
Rather than handing it to Bond, he set the radio down in the tray for Bond to pick up, and indicated the last piece of equipment. "Breitling Navitimer with built-in USB storage. The chronograph subdial is a Geiger counter. I sincerely hope you don't need it."
"I do as well," Bond said wryly. Nuclear weapons were never good news.
"You must be glad to be going out again," Q remarked.
Bond stowed the radio in his pocket and clasped the watch on his wrist. "I am," he said. "But somehow I haven't felt quite as useless this medical leave as I usually do," he felt compelled to add.
Q's smile was sudden, unexpected, and luminous. "You've been quite helpful," he said almost shyly.
Q and Bond had developed an oddly synergistic routine over the past two weeks. After asking Bond's advice on 004's mission, Q had consulted him several more times with practical concerns about field ops. Bond might have thought that Q was just humoring him, but in each case Bond was able to provide useful information that Q's computer models and perusal of past mission briefings could not answer.
Bond had even taken to wearing his earwig while he was at headquarters, so that Q could contact him with questions outside of his daily visits to Q-branch. He was only out of contact while swimming, as Q had yet to perfect a waterproof earwig. He had regaled Bond with an extensive explanation for why this was the case, of which Bond had retained virtually nothing except that it had something to do with tympanic membranes and electrical conductivity.
"I was thinking of trying to compile some sort of database of expertise," Q continued thoughtfully. "Each double oh has certain areas of greater knowledge — weapons, cultures, languages, interrogation techniques, locales. Now that we almost always have the capacity for communication with one another, it may be useful to outline and cross-reference that data."
"That would be quite an undertaking," Bond mused.
Q nodded. "M — I mean, the former M," he clarified with an apologetic glance to Bond, "— seemed to keep it all in her head. She had an exceptional ability to match operatives with assignments in a way that capitalized on all of their strengths — skill sets, knowledge, and personality characteristics. I'm afraid a brute-force database approach won't be nearly as effective, but it's better than nothing."
Bond's response to losing M had been to throw himself into his work, distracting himself from any thoughts about her death. Now, however, he was surprised to realize that he could think about M without feeling like he was on the edge of an overwhelming chasm of grief. He could even smile, thinking about the times when she seemed to know Bond better than he knew himself, those sharp eyes of hers dissecting his every strength and weakness with brutal honesty.
"She was a remarkable woman," Bond said.
"She was," Q agreed. "She brought me in to MI-6, you know," he added, almost as an afterthought.
Bond tried to hide his surprise. When Q had mentioned M in the past, Bond had just assumed he had known her as a superior and figurehead. Naturally everyone had known who M was, as head of SIS, but very few actually had personal contact with her. Even fewer individuals would have warranted recruitment specifically by her.
"I didn't know that."
Q shrugged. "She was...terrifying. And brilliant. And she gave me a chance, when very few people would have seen any value in me at all."
Bond's surprise doubled. Q's brilliance shone so brightly — the merest word or gesture from him demonstrated his genius, overt and unmistakeable. He couldn't imagine a situation in which Q's talents would have failed to have been apparent to even the dullest observer.
Q looked up suddenly as if aware that he had revealed something of himself, blushing slightly under Bond's assessing gaze.
"Well," he said, somewhat awkwardly, pulling the metal tray back and stowing it away in the depths of his desk. "Good luck out there in the field, 007. And, please..."
"I know," Bond interrupted with a smirk. "Do try to return the equipment in one piece," he mimicked in Q's posh tones.
"Quite," Q said, looking like he wasn't entirely sure if he should feel amused or offended.
Bond turned to leave.
"And yourself as well," Q murmured, but when Bond looked back he was typing steadily on his laptop.
Bond activated his shirtcollar microphone. "Q," he said.
"Yes, 007?" Q's response was immediate.
"I'm bored," Bond complained.
Q sighed audibly, but his voice was amused when he spoke again. "And you're contacting me because — what? — you'd like me to stream humorous cat videos to your mobile to keep you entertained?"
Bond shifted, unable to escape the little pieces of sharp gravel that were poking uncomfortably into his belly, elbows, and knees.
"What exactly do cats do that is funny?" he asked.
"Fall down, mostly," Q said absently, as he tapped on his keyboard in the background. "Or attack things. Are you honestly telling me you have gotten to your ripe old age without yet seeing a funny cat video?"
"Careful, pup," Bond said, grinning. It would hardly be a conversation with Q if they didn't mock each other's ages.
"007." Q's voice was sharply attentive now. "Exactly what are you doing under that truck?"
"Ah. Found me, did you?"
"I did." Q's voice was unamused. "And let's hope I'm the only one. Care to explain why you are under that vehicle rather than safely observing from the rocky outcropping .7 kilometres north, as directed?"
"I had to get closer to get a good reading. Why issue me a Geiger counter if I'm not going to use it?" Bond said lightly.
"By that logic I should have issued you an extra ration of common sense, because God knows you never use that," Q replied tartly. "Tell me that you are not trying to infiltrate that facility."
Bond gingerly rolled over, bracing the back of his head on his arm and letting the pokey gravel dig into his spine for awhile instead. "No need. Given what the readings are from here, I feel no overwhelming need to get closer."
"Oh." Bond heard a bit more tapping on the keyboard. "Bugger," Q said softly.
Bond stared up at the rusty undercarriage of the truck. "You can access my watch's readings remotely?"
"Of course," Q said crisply. "I've forwarded the data to M. He'll start taking action through appropriate channels."
"Understood." Bond sighed, settling into the gravel a little more.
"007? By all means, don't feel obliged to hang about any longer."
Bond snorted. "Tell that to the third guard who jumped into the perimeter rotation, closing the gap that got me in here. Apparently he was just in the loo or something."
"Oh. I have the satellite view in close-up, give me a moment. Oh, yes, there they are."
"Told you so." Bond was really getting quite drowsy in the still heat.
"I'm surprised you didn't just put a bullet in him."
"I do understand the definition of clandestine, Q," Bond chided. "No sense in spending a month finding the weapons just to tip them off and have them moved again."
"So that's how you ended up under the truck."
Bond yawned. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. It was cover, and shade. The sun is deadly out there."
"Mmmm. And what do you plan to do if the truck drives away?"
Bond shrugged slightly, the gravel rustling underneath him. "Cling to the bottom and hope they don't hit a bump?" he offered. He was rewarded by Q's soft chuckle.
"Very innovative plan, 007. Still, I think it's best to get you out of there. Temperature is upwards of 35, you're in danger of heatstroke if you fanny about under that truck all day."
"You worry too much, Q. I'm more in danger of falling asleep than anything else. I'll sneak out after dark. What time is sunset around here, anyway?"
"19:37 local time," Q said immediately. Bond smiled. Q was always thinking a few steps ahead.
"Seven hours," Bond said. "You can keep me company until then, Q, can't you?"
"I can keep you company when you are back safe at your air-conditioned, radiation-free hotel," Q said absently.
If only, Bond thought idly, but managed not to voice the notion. Maybe the heat was getting to him a bit.
Q's fingers on his keyboard sounded like a gentle patter of rain against a windowpane. Bond closed his eyes and imagined a cool spring rain, trickling down over his body, soothing him. The rain became Q's cool fingertips, tracing gently over his overheated skin...
"Be ready to move on my count, 007. Back the way you came."
Bond snapped out of his daydream into full alertness, every muscle in his body tensing in readiness as he scrambled back around. He braced up onto his hands and toes in as much of a runner's starting stance as the truck's low clearance would allow.
"Five, four, three, two, one...go."
Bond scrambled out from underneath the truck and pelted back across the gravel courtyard. His back felt perilously exposed, the hair at the back of his neck bristling as he listened for the outcry from the guards. In the end, however, the air remained still and silent.
A good distance away from the facility, Bond slowed to a jog before making for the base of the aforementioned rocky outcropping at which his car was parked.
"How did you manage that?" he asked Q, lightheaded and breathless.
"Guard number three has a pregnant wife. He's kept his mobile on him, probably in direct contradiction to orders, given that he was the only one. That's where he had been when you slipped through, sneaking away to call her. He also sends her a frankly oppressive number of texts per day. I sent a text from her number, telling him that labor had begun." Q's voice grew thoughtful. "I do hope he doesn't get fired for this. Young mouth to feed, and all that. On the other hand, papa won't die of radiation poisoning, so perhaps I did him a favor after all..."
Bond started up the rental car, blasting the air conditioning until it started to run blessedly cool, and guzzling from a water bottle he had left in the car. The water was warm, but still very welcome.
"Q," Bond said. "Have I told you what a sodding genius you are?"
"Flatterer." Q's voice was sarcastic, but Bond knew him well enough to know that he was likely blushing just a bit.
"Brains and beauty, Q. Quite the formidable combination."
Q seemed to hesitate on the other end. "I — I believe this completes your mission, 007," he finally said. "Flight information will be uploaded to your mobile. Safe travels."
Bond smiled to himself. He was realizing that Q seemed to take in stride all manner of compliments about his intellect, but turned hopelessly shy at any mention of his good looks. "Thank you, Q."
"You're very welcome, 007. Q signing off."
Bond turned the car around, heading for his hotel. A long, cool shower, he thought, and a scotch with more ice than liquid, and then maybe he would dive between cool sheets and think a little bit more about that daydream he had been having...
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