AN:

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Chapter 32: Mexican standoff.

"You sure she's ready to go back to work?" Wiggins asked him.

"We could use her and I think keeping her away won't be beneficial anymore. She's getting as restless as Q was. With the mole caught things will have calmed down somewhat." Stephen answered as he sat at the bottom of the stairs with Wiggins as usual. "And she promised that she would limit it to 4 hours a day for a while before working her way up to full time."

"Good luck with that." Wiggins grinned. "20 says she'll break her limits the first week."

"Done." Stephen grinned. He would make sure she would keep her hours and if she got annoyed with him there was always Tanner. His puppy dog eyes had more sway than anything he could come up with.

There was a knock at the door upstairs. He looked at Wiggins, who shrugged. With a quiet curse he got into position as Wiggins went upstairs for the door.

"Doc?" He heard Wiggins say from his position at the bottom of the stairs. "Didn't know you were commin?"

"Afternoon, Wigs." He heard a familiar voice answer. One that brought a smile to his face. "Can we come in? I need to use the treatment room and then my charge needs to meet the people in the second basement." This put him on guard. He was here with his charge after all. One who didn't know Watson and if Watson had his own charge. It just smelled like trouble.

"The second basement you say?" Wiggins sounded on guard as well. The accent was gone and he sounded more alert.

"Yeah, look I got asked to bring him here. I don't know who I'm meeting. But he's my principle so…" He heard Watson trail off. Oh, this was a shitshow. Because what Watson was trying to convey nicely was that he was in a shoot first, ask questions later mood and that he might get blood on Wiggins's floor. God, it was fortunate that Watson knew him so well. If it had been any other double-0 on duty…

Luckily Wiggins took charge after that.

"Okay, treatment first because your charge looks about ready to fall over. What the hell happened to him?" Wiggins asked as the voices faded a little before disappearing altogether. They'd entered the treatment room, wherever the hell that was. 006 hadn't even known Wiggins had a treatment room. It seems Watson was more of a fixture here than he knew.

It made him wonder about Wiggins. He knew the former agent was working for someone else now and that Q trusted him and the ones he was working for. But 6 didn't know more than that. It startled him a little that he trusted Wiggins purely on Q's word.

Footsteps approaching the stairs made him cock his gun. The footsteps stopped immediately.

"It's me. Permission to approach." He heard Wiggins say and he silently cursed for this fucked up situation.

"Slowly." He answered, not removing his finger from the trigger.

Wiggins slowly descended down the stairs and stepped into view on the landing.

"006?" He heard behind him. He cursed again as R called out to him.

"Back into the room, R and close the door behind you until I come and get you. I don't expect it to be bad but I'm not taking any chances." He ordered, not taking his eyes or gun from Wiggins.

"Right. You had better identify yourself before you open that door. There's a camera right corner." Was all she answered before she turned and closed the door behind her. He relaxed minutely when he knew his charge was secure.

"The doc won't come out." Wiggins said coming straight to the point not bothered by the gun pointed at him. "But he's guarding his own injured charge. He's one of yours I think but I can't be sure. The doc won't share anything about him. Just that he was sent to hand his charge over to the people in the second basement. But he's guarding the door of the treatment room while treating his charge. I've never seen the doc like that. I guess I see why Shezza liked him." Shezza. Wiggins often talked about his former boss who sounded like an absolute nutter and brilliant at it too. Too bad he was dead. It would've been interesting meeting him.

"How do you want to play this?" Wiggins asked.

"Where's the treatment room?" 6 asked.

"First door to the left as you come in. No direct line of sight into the room from the stairs." Wiggins reported. Good, 6 thought, it meant if this was truly Watson, he wouldn't kill him on sight to protect his charge.

"Then the doc and I will get acquainted upstairs." He said. Wiggins thought for a moment before nodding and walking up the stairs again. 6 followed, placing himself behind the wall at the top of the stairs. He was so glad the building was completely constructed of concrete, including internal walls.

"Yo, TC. Front and centre, soldier." He called out. The door at the end of the corridor was opened a tiny bit. In the corridor, Wiggins pressed himself to the wall, trying to stay out of the line of fire.

"Who are you giving me orders, mate?" Watson answered. The line made 6 laugh.

"No that was my line. Yours was something like 'Tone it down or leave. You're bothering everyone.' And after I was done making a fool of myself you gave me the special." He answered, hoping Watson could remember that particular exchange.

"I've had numerous conversations along those lines. You're going to have to do better than that." Watson answered clearly amused but no less deadly. 6 groaned, he should've thought of that.

"I bet, the last one was with 9. Really Watson, only you would go into a bar in London for some R&R and put one of us into the ground." He shouted back knowing that would at least prove he was MI6.

"What's in the second basement?" Watson asked, trying to make an assessment of the situation.

"My principle." He answered simply and he could almost hear Watson groan.

"Well this is convenient." Watson replied sarcastically.

"You tell me." He answered in exactly the same tone. Then he heard Watson take the initiative. He opened the door fully and stepped out, closing the door behind him. 6 glanced around the corner. Watson was standing in the middle of the corridor, gun in his hand but his finger was off the trigger. He thought it through for a moment, but quickly came to the conclusion that the only way to make any progress was to copy his example.

"Coming out." He warned before stepping into the corridor.

"Ward?" Watson said surprised. "Fucking hell, mate. Is this where you ran off to?"

"You know how it goes." Stephen answered vaguely.

"Sure do. Was in the process of approaching you myself for selection. But then you just upped and vanished on me. Your mates said that you'd just quit." Watson answered.

"Once I signed up, they pulled me immediately." He explained.

"And now you're one of them, huh? Bloody hell mate I knew you'd go far." Watson was grinning.

"It's good to see you, mate. Heard what happened with the shoulder. I didn't even have an inkling you were doing what you were doing over there." He said impressed. Special forces soldiers lived in the shadows, much like agents. But it was more like an open secret. You found out quickly enough who the thinking soldiers in the camp were. But Watson? He never would've guessed.

"Yeah, it was fortunate I ran into some good people over here." Watson answered though he winced a bit. Clearly the former captain had a lot of stories to tell. "We should go out for drinks sometime. You know, when we're not both guarding principles."

"Yeah, sounds good." 6 replied. Once again on guard now that the topic had been raised. Wiggins banged his head against the wall, alerting both of them to the fact that he was still there. On automatic both he and Watson raised their guns.

"You guys are being ridiculous." Wiggins commented.

"Might be, yeah." Watson grinned lowering his gun again and looked at him again.

"Mine is secure." He offered as a compromise.

"Mine isn't but seeing as I'm handing him over to you, you might as well come in." Watson said, tucking his gun away and walking towards the door. He followed the doc, Wiggins behind them.

The treatment room was bare but clean and practical. On the examination table behind the desk a small figure was huddled. As they entered a bruised face was raised and Stephen winced. Q was going to be pissed.

"Do you know who this is?" Watson asked his charge gently. Panicked eyes settled on him and then actually calmed down somewhat.

"006." Came the whispered answer.

"Remar, right?" He asked just to be sure of the name.

"Yes, sir." Came the reply.

"Christ, Q's going to be pissed." He groaned. "I'm surprised London is still standing. What happened?"

"He got pushed into an alleyway on his way home and beaten up. The records will show him admitted at Barts for observation. Somewhere he really should be." Watson's strict tone of voice left no room for argument. Stephen raised his hands.

"Mate, I had no idea you were even coming here. I don't know what the plan is." He said defensively.

"Crap, then I have to make calls." Watson groaned taking his phone out of his pocket. "I hate talking to him. You owe me mate. You get to pay for the first round." And he put the phone to his ear.