Huge thanks again to Sekishi for the French translations!
Bond returned from his morning run to find Q already showered and dressed. He stopped in the entryway in surprise, toeing off his trainers.
"Sunday morning...I thought you'd be sleeping in," he remarked.
Q seemed edgy, avoiding Bond's eyes. "I have an errand to run. I'll be back in the afternoon."
"Okay." Bond pulled off his sweaty t-shirt as he walked to the shower, pretending not to see the relief in Q's eyes. So this was why Q had hesitated when Bond mentioned staying the week-end.
Bond let the shower stream over him, grappling with his conscience. When he heard the front door close, however, he was out of the shower in moments, toweling off rapidly and slipping into his clothes.
He trailed Q to the Tufnell Park Tube stop, keeping a careful distance back on the stairs and entering two train cars behind him. Fifteen minutes later Q got off at Charing Cross, catching the railway to Orpington. Half an hour later he got off at the Elmstead Woods stop, Bond lingering on the train and jumping off at the last minute so he wouldn't run into Q on the platform at the pokey little station.
The train pulled away and Bond looked through the stationhouse to the street beyond. He couldn't see Q. He walked casually through the station, lingering in the doorway, looking up and down the street. Q was nowhere to be found.
Dammit. Bond looked in the gent's at the train station but it was empty. Finally he walked out onto the street, shading his eyes, looking for Q's back in either direction.
"Lose something?" Q's voice was more amused than exasperated. He stepped out from behind an oak tree, barely twenty feet to Bond's right. "I thought you were a professional," he said dryly.
Christ. Bond felt himself flushing, ridiculously. "Usually my targets aren't skinny enough to hide behind saplings," he retorted, trying to salvage his dignity.
Q just looked him up and down. Finally he seemed to reach a decision. "Well come on then, if you're coming." He started off down the road.
Bond jogged a little to catch up, feeling suddenly sheepish. He had promised to let Q keep his secrets, and here he was, caught out stalking him. "I can wait for you here," he conceded. "That cafe over there looks...charming."
Q snorted in amusement. "Trust me, that cafe is abominable," he said. He was joking, but the choice of words sent a pang through Bond's chest.
He stopped walking suddenly. "I do. Trust you, I mean," he said awkwardly. He huffed out a frustrated breath. "I shouldn't have come."
Q had turned to face Bond when he stopped, and now some of his brittle detachment fell away. He took a step closer, taking Bond's hand. "I don't mind. Really." He sighed. "Maybe it'll be easier with you along."
With that cryptic remark he dropped Bond's hand and set off down the road again. "It's about a kilometre. Usually a pleasant enough walk," he said, and then lapsed back into silence, seeming lost in his thoughts. Bond walked next to him, equally silent.
Just when Bond thought there could be nothing at all out here in the backwoods of Bromley they came upon a large manor house, set back in the woods at the bottom of a circular drive. Eversleigh, the sign at the drive read. "We Care More."
Bond followed Q up the steps and through the front door. Behind what looked like a combination of a reception desk and a nurses' station a grey-haired woman in crisp scrubs smiled brightly.
"Hullo, Vanessa," Q said.
"Hullo, dear," the woman greeted Q. "You've brought a friend with you today. How lovely!"
Q blushed a little, and the woman's smile widened. "She's in the garden today."
Bond put his hand in Q's and squeezed. "Thank you," he said for both of them. Q's blush intensified, but he didn't remove his hand from Bond's.
They passed a few other residents and staff on their way to the back of the house. All of the residents were quite elderly. One or two of them stared sharp-eyed at Bond as he passed, but most had a kind of vagueness to their eyes, looking around themselves incuriously.
Bond had expected to be meeting Q's grand-mère, but Q stopped on the terrace overlooking the back garden, gesturing at a still lovely middle-aged woman sitting in a chair below, her hair a dark brown only lightly streaked with silver. At first Bond thought she was a staff member, but a moment later he realised that she was dressed in simple casual clothing rather than the scrubs or uniforms identifying the staff.
Q hitched a hip up on the wall of the terrace, making no move to go closer at present. He looked at Bond for a long moment.
"My maman," he finally said softly. "She is...confused. I call her by her name, Naila, to avoid distressing her. She has episodes of temper as well. She can't help it, it's not at all what she was like before. She won't hurt me, but...you should be prepared."
Bond nodded, his chest aching a little more with every word of Q's matter-of-fact explanation. "She's so young," he wondered out loud.
Q nodded. "It's not dementia. She's been this way for more than fifteen years. When it happened — she was younger than I am now." His mouth twisted bitterly, and somehow Bond knew that whatever Q was going to say next was the worst part. Q blinked rapidly a few times, his eyes sliding away from Bond's gaze. "She doesn't know me at all," he finally said softly.
Bond squeezed Q's hand again, feeling out of his depth. He didn't really remember losing his parents, had only vague impressions of even having a mother. And yet, how much worse must this be, Q's mother still alive but so changed, unable to even recognise her son?
"I'm sorry, Q," Bond ended up saying.
Q nodded. He cleared his throat. "Dense retrograde and anterograde amnesia, they call it," he said, his voice carefully neutral now. "If pressed she still thinks she's in her late teens or early twenties, it varies day by day. Sometimes she mentions a baby, but usually not. She was only seventeen when she had me, and of course grand-mère raised me those first few years while maman finished University."
Bond nodded, fitting the pieces together in his head with Q's words overheard on his earpiece so many months ago. Moving her now — do you understand the trauma that would entail? I had one requirement, one, when I came on here, and that was a guarantee of her safety..."
"Well. Come on, then." Q let go of Bond's hand and started down the terrace steps.
The woman looked up as they approached, smiled vaguely, and then looked back at the garden. A white butterfly was swooping gracefully among the flowers, and she followed it with her eyes. Q sat on the low garden wall, and after a moment's hesitation Bond settled beside him.
"Hullo Naila," Q said, his voice gentle.
"Hullo." She smiled brightly, and Bond's breath caught. When she smiled her eyes were a mirror of Q's — grey-green and luminous, small crinkles at the outer edges. She looked at Q, her brow furrowing just slightly. Her eyes moved on to Bond, and her expression turned placid again.
"This is James," Q said.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Naila said, her voice as posh and rich as Q's. "James. And...?" She looked back at Q, hesitating.
"Jasper," Q said smoothly. "The garden is beautiful today, isn't it?"
"It is. I love flowers." She looked at Q, her eyes suddenly flashing with sharp intelligence. "Jasper is a lovely name. It means 'keeper of treasure,' in my language."
"Does it?" Q smiled softly. "Very appropriate then. I've brought you this." He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small oblong shape, covered in shiny red foil.
Bond could sense the cadence of an oft-repeated script, but Naila appeared genuinely surprised, clapping her hands like a child. "Marzipan!"
Q held it out and she took it, immediately unwrapping it. "It's my favorite," she confided. She took a bite, smiling happily at them both. She held out the bar to them. "Would you like some?"
They both declined and she shrugged, taking another bite.
She chattered happily about the garden and some of the things she had done lately, muddling together summer and winter activities and not appearing to notice the incongruity. Q managed the conversation adeptly, redirecting her with gentle questions whenever she seemed confused.
She was talking about a cake she had baked when she suddenly broke off, looking sharply at Q again. "Are you a friend of Richard's?" she asked.
Q's flinch was almost imperceptible, just a tightening around his eyes and a sudden stillness in his hands. "I'm afraid not," he said. "Did you decorate the cake yourself, or —"
"You told me you were a friend of Richard's!" Naila interrupted. "Why didn't you bring him?" Her voice climbed hysterically. "I don't care about you. He should be coming to visit me." She stood up, looking around herself angrily.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Q said, his voice low and placating. He stood as well, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Tell me about —"
"Liar!" Naila's eyes were wild. She knocked Q's arm away roughly, and Bond found himself already on his feet, just barely restraining himself from stepping between them. "Stop telling lies. Everyone is always lying to me. I want Richard, not you. Where is he? Tell me at once!" Her agitation grew until she was screaming the final words.
Vanessa, the woman who had greeted them at the reception desk was hurrying down the terrace steps.
Q lowered his voice soothingly. "S'il-te-plait ne te mets pas dans cette état," he murmured. "Je sais que c'est perturbant, mais tout ira bien. Richard sera bientôt de retour. Profite du jardin, c'est une belle journée. Il ne devrait y avoir rien d'autre que du bonheur un jour comme celui-là ."*
Naila looked at Bond imploringly. "Je me fiche du jardin. Je veux juste voir Richard," she said. She looked back at Q, her mouth twisting with disgust. "Je ne veux plus vous revoir vous et votre face de menteur," she spat.**
Vanessa had made her way over to them, puffing slightly.
"There there now, dear," she said to Naila. "No cause for upset, is there? We're all great friends."
Naila threw herself into Vanessa's arms, hugging her. Vanessa looked at Q over Naila's shoulder, her expression apologetic. "She's been a bit agitated lately," she explained. "I'm so sorry, dear."
"It's fine," Q said, managing a polite smile. "It's time we were going anyway. Good afternoon, Naila. I will see you again soon."
Naila made an angry noise, refusing to look around. As Q and Bond went up the stairs, Bond could hear Vanessa speaking. "It's almost lunchtime dear. You can help me set the table..."
*"Please do not be distressed. I know it is confusing, but all will be well. Richard will return soon. Enjoy the garden, it's a lovely day. There should be nothing but happiness on a day like this."
**"I don't care about the garden. I just want to see Richard. I don't want to see you and your lying face again."
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