Guess what? I'm back! Since my health problems are a lot better, I was in the mood to do some writing. Here we go!
Safe
MI6 is attacked again
They felt the rumble, and it stopped them all in their tracks, Q even turning to face Bond and Eve from the far end of the corridor, opening his mouth to speak - and then the ceiling fell.
Dust and plaster billowed into the air around them, and the impact knocked them all off their feet. It was Bond's first instinct to shelter Eve - but that was only his physical instinct. His entire conscious mind was elsewhere.
"Q!"
There came no answer, though he listened hard amongst the screams and cries for help. Eve pushed at his arms and Bond moved away, clambering up with her now that there was no more debris to fall.
"Q!" Eve shouted through, echoing Bond's call, but still there was only silence beyond the thick wall of rubble - and the air was still rough with dust.
Bond lifted his shirt over his mouth and indicated Eve to do the same, and pointed her in the direction of the stairs. "Go straight down and get outside," he told her. "Don't take the elevator, and don't go for the main entrance. Take the first street-level exit you seen and wait outside. I'll get him."
"James, I know how to deal with such an emergency and besides I can help you here."
"I get him," Bond insisted firmly, already pushing Eve in the shoulder. "Go; get onto the street and take care of the others."
Bond didn't wait to watch Eve disappear into the mass of bodies heading down the stairs. His first instinct was to try and get through the wall of rubble, but it only took him a couple of seconds to realize that this was a non-starter. The double-oh-agent didn't know where the blast had come from, but he'd guess it was only a few floors up; the full weight of the floor above had come down between this half of the corridor and the other, there was no way through to get Q. He'd have to go to another floor and climb back up on the other side - if that was even possible, and unless another blast hit.
None of this frightened Bond. He was operating too much on necessity to care about whether his actions would be dangerous, or ifs, buts and maybes about Q's safety. He simply made it his mission to get where Q had been last. If he'd already gotten out, then great - but if he needed Bond's help, then he'd be there to get him.
Admittedly, the lack of an answer when Bond had called through was not promising, but the double-oh-agent didn't need to dwell on that right now. He headed upstairs and there were many people still trying to make their way downstairs, and some of them injured; Bond stopped to make sure that anybody whose face wasn't covered with fabric did so to keep their lungs clear, but otherwise made a dash for the next floor up. That was blocked too, and the next - but three floors up from where they had been, it was possible to climb over.
Here, the building was mostly deserted. Only a few stragglers were left behind. By the time Bond reached the correct floor again, he had started to have time to panic about the various options, and to imagine Q's dead-eyed corpse lying under a slab of thick concrete.
When he turned the corner and finally laid eyes on Q, real life wasn't all too different from his imagination - but with several key differences. The screams of Q's pain clued the double-oh-agent in to his survival right away, and soon as he was close to get a proper view of the situation, Bond could see that the only thing crushed by the chunk of the ceiling was Q's leg.
"Q," Bond greeted the boffin, as soon as he was close enough to shout. The double-oh-agent's arrival was met with a dry sob of relief as Q tried, fruitlessly, to tug himself out from under the heavy rubble.
"Don't move; don't move. It's alright, okay? The exits are clear. I'm going to get you out of here."
"I think my leg's been crushed," Q told him. Unfortunately, Bond agreed. To look at the boffin now, he was forced to wonder whether it would ever be possible for Q to walk unaided again - but it was better that he got out with an irreparable leg than not out at all. "Christ, it hurts…"
"I know," Bond assured, voice soft through the fabric of his shirt - which he removed now to tie it loosely over Q's mouth. "I know, I know, but it's okay. Start counting and I swear I'll have you out of here by hundred. Okay?"
The boffin nodded. The light flickering around them, one strip hanging down from the ceiling with a menacing buzz that threatened fire - which of course was the last thing they needed. All the same, Bond intended to make good on his promise. He could already see Q counting in his head. One, two, three…
The double-oh-agent lifted the slab of concrete away from Q's leg without warning, wincing at the cry of pain; Bond knew that if he'd warned the boffin, the anticipation would only have made it worse. He picked Q up - in a fireman's lift, to prevent further injury - and made sure he had tight hold of him.
"I've got you," Bond promised. "Okay? Keep counting."
ooOoo
He's safe.
Bond couldn't stop himself repeating it, eyes fixed on Q, as they waited for Eve to join them, in the back of the ambulance.
"Thank you," said Q, "for coming to get me. I heard you and Eve calling, but I think I blacked out…"
"Of course I came for you."
There was the ghost of a smile on Q's lips, so light that Bond thought perhaps he was seeing things - right up until the moment that it widened, and Q gave the double-oh-agent's hand an unmistakable squeeze.
