Another Lifetime Ago…

Before Q, there was Arthur Clifton. Boffin. Genius. Renegade Master of the inner workings of ones and zeros. Shirker of the norm.

An unparalleled talent whom many on both sides of the track were keen to recruit. The day he was marked, Arthur Clifton's future was destined to be wholly different than he expected.

SPECTRE may have thought he was theirs for the taking. But the Universe apparently, with a little assistance from love, had other designs on the future path of the man who would one day walk where angels feared to tread.

"You're still here…" the voice from the bed softly whispered.

Arthur immediately raised his head from his iPad and reached for the glass of water from the side of Charles' bed. He leaned forward to tip some of the liquid into his parched mouth. "Of course, I'm still here. Where else would I be, you daft brush?"

He looked up at him while Arthur rested Charles' head carefully back to the pillow and repositioned the glass. "Surely you have better things to do?"

Arthur scoffed. "Than be by the side of the man I love? I think not, Charles," he replied, watching him keenly for any signs of discomfort.

"How is the furball?" Charles enquired.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed. "Annoying little shit as always." Arthur stared out the window. "She misses you terribly of course. You who spoil her so."

Charles patted the mattress. "Lie down with me. Let me hold you." Arthur carefully positioned himself alongside his fragile soulmate, both knowing but neither voicing what they both knew inevitable.

"You know I love you," he whispered into Arthur's temple. "I would do anything to protect you."

Arthur tilted his head up then to look into his eyes. "I wish…"

"Shhh, don't say it. Please," Charles whispered. "This is how it is meant to be, and you my little Bombe, are still destined to change the world."

His shoulders, nor did any sounds, betray the tears that were gently forming in Arthur's eyes. Charles was stroking his hair. "I won't miss this mop though. Always clogging up the shower, shaggy mare…"

"Fuck off," he said, feigning good humour. "You love it," Arthur replied.

"And falling for it and for you was the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered, exhaustion obviously overtaking him again. "You made me a good man, Arthur Clifton."

Arthur chuckled at that. "You were always good, Charles." Not always, Charles thought to himself, reaching beneath his pillow. "Here. For you." Arthur reached forward with the hand resting on Charles' chest to take the silver locket from him, just as Charles' own hand slipped away and he allowed unconsciousness to wrap itself around his mind again.

Arthur turned it over between slender fingers and pushed the clasp to open the trinket. "It's…" Inside, on the left, a small photo of them on their wedding day. On the right, what looked like a locker key. "Beautiful…" he murmured, a small frown falling across his brow. He shut the locket and rested his head back down on Charles' shoulder. Closing his eyes, he savoured what he knew would soon become the last breaths of Charles Sebastian.

It was late when Arthur got home. Empty. Exhausted. It was difficult to think beyond the moment because in that given moment, Charles was still alive. Arthur had been preparing himself for the inevitable crumbling of his world but he knew when it came, no amount of preparation would stay the feeling of his heart being ripped out of his chest. He fingered the locket around his neck while watching George devour his pouch of food. He headed to the living room and pulled their wedding photo album from the bookcase. An intimate affair, driven by the desire to keep a piece of Charles grounded to this world when his silent assassin finally took him all too soon. He found the photo he was looking for - a copy of the one in the locket - and slipped it from the cover. He wasn't expecting to see a small piece of paper beneath. He took it out, unfolded and read the contents, in Charles' neat, elegant scribble.

"Victoria Station. Locker 511. Bring your offline laptop. Forgive me, Arthur. C."

A sense of dread crept into his mind then. There were so many possibilities that Arthur had to shut them down before he became overwhelmed with panic. He took a deep, steadying breath. He was a gifted hacker. Arthur Clifton had no illusions about the dangers inherent in the world. He'd seen the best and the worst in people, as had his husband. His husband… Charles' law work could garner him many enemies… Another lover? Was he in danger? Arthur, again, shook his head and forced himself into pragmatic mode. Speculation was useless. He grabbed his laptop bag and coat and headed to Victoria Station.

Having commandeered the locker contents with no trouble, Arthur made his way to a nearby coffee shop amongst the bustling masses of rush hour London. He took a seat, glancing around as he did so. Act paranoid, draw attention, he thought to himself, pack it in, Clifton. He opened his laptop and plugged in the flash drive he had retrieved from the locker. Headphones firmly in place, he opened the media file and pressed play. He frowned as he watched sequences from their wedding day play across the screen. It was only 20 seconds into the footage that Charles' voice sounded calmly in his ear.

"Arthur. If you are listening to this, then it is too late for me. But it is not too late for you." Arthur leaned calmly back trying not to betray the rising trepidation. "I hope the memories you are watching right now will keep you calm and grounded while I tell you what you need to hear. To keep you safe. But before I do, know that I love you." Arthur kept both hands flat on the table either side of the screen, his face trained calm. "My death is not a random act of nature. It is murder." Arthur's heart thudded loud in his ears, so loud he thought it would drown out the sound of Charles' voice, almost hoped it would. "Right now, they are watching. And when I die, they will come for you. But they will not get you. You will run. You will disappear. And you will be safe. Here's what you have to do…"