Chapter 43: Do you want to talk about it?

The chair was one of the most comfortable chairs he had ever sat in but the longer he sat in it, the more uncomfortable it became. Stephen shifted again. They had landed only briefly on Gibraltar. Just long enough for 7 and the still very groggy bitch of a doctor to get off. Q had booked them a room at a hotel near the airport to let the doctor sleep off the drugs some more and that Bond could question her peacefully. Bond had looked ready and eager when he exited the plane, in full mission mode and barely hiding the dangerous predator he was.

The flight up to Gibraltar had mostly been spent in silence, with Bond reading his file and Q working. He had spent the rest of the flight reading TC's blog, trying to keep his mind off other things. He'd been reading it on and off on his down time. He was reading about The Hound of Baskerville right now and quietly shaking his head about the utter nutter TC had ended up with. No wonder he had thrived. Holmes sounded like a bloody nightmare to live with but he had kept TC on his toes, his adrenaline pumping, his mind off the war. Or on it, depending how you looked at it.

But now that 7 and Swann had gone and the plane was back in the air again, it was getting harder and harder to keep his mind occupied. He shifted again nervously, working very hard to keep himself from fidgeting, a nervous habit he'd had from early childhood and had worked very hard to suppress. 'It just had to come out now,' Stephen thought angrily at himself, 'I probably look like a bloody schoolboy waiting in the principal's office for my parents to arrive.'

Q looked up as he shifted again in his seat.

"Yes, I do believe we have something to discuss." He said and he closed his laptop. Stephen gulped as the intense eyes settled on him.

"I… I apologise, sir." He stammered out but Q held up his hand.

"Let me stop you right there, 006." He said. "You are not to blame for this. It was obvious to me and Arabella at the airport that you were unfit for duty at the moment, yet we took the risk. I thought duty would be enough to get you on track again. Obviously I miscalculated. That's on me, not on you."

"But…" Stephen started to say but then fell silent, not knowing what to say. He just didn't understand what was happening to him. He'd never had any problems before. But when he was cornered in that closet and he knew there were people with guns on the other side of the door, suddenly all he knew was that he needed to get out. And suddenly there had been Q and his gun had been pointing at him and he'd almost. Stephen shuddered, imagining what could have happened.

"It's not your fault, 006, you are just not well at the moment." Q's soft voice broke through his thoughts and suddenly Stephen was fighting the urge to cry. He nodded, not getting any words out and was grateful when Q only nodded in return before fishing out his phone and replying to some messages, giving Stephen the privacy he needed to compose himself.

Stephen focussed on his breathing for a long time, ignoring the tears staining his cheeks. In for four, hold for four, out for four. But the tears wouldn't stop, no matter how hard he tried. Shit, he was worse off than he thought. What the hell was he going to do? He couldn't work like this. He would be the first double-0 ever to retire with-out landing in a box. What the hell was he going to do now that he couldn't get back to it? The marines had been his life and then MI6 had come along and he had thrown his everything into that. Without that he was nothing.

"Ward, focus." Q's commanding voice and use of his last name cut through his thoughts like a hot knife through butter and instantly transported him back to his military days. He sat up straight and his head shot up, his eyes locked onto Q's. "Breath in." The command was not as easily followed as predicted. Shakily he complied. "Good, hold it… and now let it out." The air escaped before Q had finished in a big whoosh of sound. After which he started his 4 in, 4 hold, 4 out, breathing exercise again. This time it was harder to do, but more effective because he could feel himself calm down.

"Good. Now, stop despairing. It's all not that bad." Stephen snorted in disbelief, gaining him a disapproving look. "It isn't. Most of your fellow double-0's have similar problems. You need to find out your triggers and get control of your reactions. When you've got a handle on it you can return to the field." Stephen bristled with anger at Q's light tone.

"Well, that sounds amazingly easy, Q." He replied, sarcasm heavily lacing his tone. "I hope you have an idea of how to do that because I sure as hell don't." It was only then he remembered just who he was talking to and ducked his head in shame. Q didn't seem to mind though because he his eyes twinkled with amusement

"I do, actually." Q snarked back easily. "First you need to go home to get some rest." Stephen snorted again.

"Home?" He scoffed. "I haven't had a home since I was 17 and I got kicked out for joining the marines, Q." Q frowned.

"Where did you stay when you were on leave then?" He asked.

"The barracks, when I was enlisted, HQ when I became an agent." He answered. "Didn't have much leave to begin with. I went home with a mate a few times. Snuck off base for the pub plenty of times. Wouldn't feel at home alone in an apartment anyway."

"Hmmm. That's vexing. Our current headquarters has no accommodations and if I send you outside of London, it will be difficult for you to have contact with the psychology department." Stephen shuddered at the thought which made Q frown.

"What is it?" He asked

"You mean those assholes who do our assessment? Sorry Q, but I'll pass. Rather be declared unfit for duty than having to open up to those incompetent bastards." He said. Q frowned.

"What exactly about them makes you uncomfortable?" He asked.

"They either are afraid of us, are so rude they're asking to be killed or treat us like we're children." He answered. "Which is fine if they're just assessing you, but I wouldn't trust any of them with my problems."

"So it wasn't just one time. Hmmm, I'll have to look into that." Q mumbled to himself before he shook himself. "Never mind." And started typing on his phone. The comment made Stephen wonder just what Q's job as Adjunct-director entailed. Before he could get curious enough to ask though, out of the blue, Q asked him a question.

"Did staying at the barracks allow you to relax?" He asked, not looking up from his phone.

Stephen's mind immediately drifted back to those days. To the ones where he had been the only one in the room and finally able to sleep undisturbed by all the snoring. When he got up with everyone else, scarfed down breakfast and joined one of the other troops for PT. He'd had a relatively easy time completing the commando tests because he'd trained so much. Of course then there were the clandestine trips to the pub to pick up women. He'd been caught a few times sneaking them off base the morning which had gained him a womanizer reputation. That stain on his record had been one of the things that had drawn MI6 to him.

"Yes." He answered, not being able to keep the smile off his face.

"Do you think it might relax you being back in such an environment?" Q asked, still not looking up.

Stephen sucked in a sudden breath. Oh, to be able to simply train and relax like that again. Stephen would give everything to get back to those days right now. Maybe, he could re-enlist into the Royal Marines again if things didn't pan out…

It seemed Q had glanced at his face and seen his answer because he tucked away his phone and started talking before Stephen could speak.

"Alright, Ward. As soon as we land we'll be met with the Assistant who will be taking over your guard duty. She will hand you your temporary enlistment papers. You've been temporarily seconded to the Royal Marines keeping your rank of Captain. After that, I'll be sending you to meet up with John Watson. He has re-enlisted into the RAMC and is currently the medic for the special forces selection. He can keep an eye on you and maybe even help you figure out what you need."

It was as if a ball that he hadn't known was there had dissolved in his chest and for some reason he could breathe again. He took a few deep breaths, ignoring the tears that were once again leaking from his eyes.

"Thank you, Q." He said gratefully.