"Q?"

The familiar voice cut through the fog of Q's consciousness. It was hot and the air felt oppressive, but when Q went to kick off his duvet, he jolted awake with the pain. The sudden rush went as quickly as it came and his eyes shut again… It was still dark; far too early to be up.

"Q!"

There was that voice again, mused Q. It had drifted in and out of his dreams, sometimes holding the nightmares back, but at other times bringing the pain in his body to the front of his attention. It was warm, he decided, an uncomfortable, sticky heat that was really rather unpleasant; he could almost see how bright the sunlight was, despite having his eyes shut.

"Q!"

The call brought awareness with it and Q slowly opened his eyes. They felt heavy and the pulsing headache behind them began to throb more fiercely as he shifted.

"007..." He replied softly, his voice hoarse from disuse as he convinced his body to remain awake. His throat hurt too.

"Q." There was relief in that voice, clear as day to hear. "It's getting bloody hot. Any ideas?"

"The watch… 007…" He answered, head starting to loll forwards.

"What?" 007 sounded more alert this time, his ability to find energy when needed was part of what made him a good agent.

"The watch… I lied about the watch." He'd not told Bond outright that he'd made one or two changes to it, having been told that Bond was meant to be on downtime. Mallory had had enough of Bond mocking his authority and had told Q to show him the car that he was missing out on, to give him just a watch to help with timekeeping instead. While Q had been irritated to find that 007 had taken the DB10, he hadn't been surprised. Instead, he'd simply outfitted 009 with the car he had been going to have originally before sneakily checking on where Bond had gone. The watch however, well… Q had knowingly given Bond an upgrade.

Bond hadn't replied this time. "007." Q called out again, his voice still weak even as he slowly lifted his arms to scrub at his face.

Moments later, there was an explosion causing the wall by the entrance to his cell to crumble and the doorframe to fall. A mere second later and Q got his first glimpse of Bond, as the man disarmed the guard with a kick, the gun flying to land near Q. Bond stumbled on rock as the guard fell back to land just outside of Q's view. The boffin made a quick decision and scrambled towards the gun, planning to throw it to 007, but with the firearm in hand, he saw that the guard was raising another gun to the weaponless agent and the Quartermaster didn't even think about his next action.

Q pulled the trigger and the guard slumped down, dead. Q watched in growing numbness as the guard failed to move again; he didn't notice Bond approaching, even when the agent stopped in front of him.

"Sometimes a trigger has to be pulled." Bond quipped, but the boffin didn't respond…wasn't able to. He could see the blood without even trying to focus on it and instead continued to stare at the space where the guard had been. His mind was roaring, a painful noise that drowned out everything else and the Quartermaster found himself entirely unable to think.

"Q?" Bond stepped closer to the young man, one hand stretched out to take the gun as he crouched down.

But Q didn't reply, his wide eyes still focussed on the body of the man he had shot. The agent gently disarmed him before lifting his hand, pressing a rough palm to the younger man's scruffy face as he sought to distract him.

"Damage report, Quartermaster?" but when Q flinched at his words, he switched to a kinder tone. "It's been a while since I saw you at that clinic. What do I need to know about?"

Q's eyes drifted over to meet Bond's and the older man could almost see his thoughts pulling together. "I... they shot my right ankle." One hand fluttered near it, and Bond noticed that while Q had no socks on how, his feet with both bandaged up.

He hummed slightly so that Q knew he was listening, but he couldn't quite put into words how annoyed he was; didn't actually want to put it into words because if he started, he wasn't entirely sure when he'd stop and they had to get away yet.

"They burnt the bottom of my other foot so I don't think I'll be able to walk." Bond couldn't quite hold back his growl at that. "They'd gone for a change though and were being nice when Oberhauser decided he had time to see me though, so apart from an awful lot of cuts and bruises, my feet are the worst."

"You're doing very well for someone who can't walk..." He pointed out, trying to keep his voice soft and pleasant.

Q managed a weak smile. "The doctor here is a force of nature. He's making them give me lots of nice drugs." His gaze dropped from Bond's face back to his feet. "They have definitely started to wear off though."

"Do you know what they gave you?" He asked as he began to consider the best way to get them both out.

Q shook his head. "The doctor was shouting about morphine at one point, but I'm not sure whether that meant I got any or not." The young man pushed his hair out his face and sighed. "I don't think we should hang around though."

"Best not." Bond agreed, a wry smile touching his lips for a moment. "Are your ribs well enough to handle me carrying you?"

"They'll have to be. Oh don't pull that face." Q scoffed slightly, just missing the mocking tone he had likely been aiming for. "It's not as though I'm walking anywhere. You'll need to carry me. Turn around. My right leg is tender up to the knee but I'll do what I must to get out of here." Q's face twitched into a melancholic expression that didn't fade even as Bond turned his back. "I'd crawl if I had to."

"Fortunately you don't." Bond replied mildly as he felt Q's arms scramble up around his neck. Patiently, he waited as the boffin squirmed about to get his legs about the agent's waist, then he stood up with only a small grunt at the blanket of heat that he now had plastered to his back in the already rising temperature.

"How about we go find some air conditioning?"

"He has air conditioning and didn't share it? How cruel." Q had his arms resting on Bond's shoulders as they set off, but his face was close enough that the agent could feel hot puffs of breath on his ear. It was oddly reassuring to experience.

"Well, prisoners in the dungeon don't get too many luxuries." He joked in as light a voice as he could manage when he was having to carry with Quartermaster through enemy ground on his back.

"Was more of an oven..." Q countered quietly, his voice slurring slightly as apparently his adrenaline rush ebbed away. Bond half wondered if it indicated how much Q trusted him that the boffin was so relaxed when in his care. "We need to get out of here."

"I agree." And he was quickly making his way through the complex; getting out of the base was no problem, but trying to cross the desert without provisions and a vehicle would be suicidal. "Any idea where Oberhauser keeps his cars?"

"Make sure you check the fuel of whichever vehicle you pick."

"What?"

"I don't want to be stuck in the middle of the desert because you picked a nice car that ran out of petrol on the way. Remember to check the fuel gauge before we go." Q wasn't lifting his head anymore, and he was becoming heavier both because Bond was tiring and because Q was growing more lax.

Bond was quickly retracing the steps he had taken when leaving the room they had originally housed him in, pressing the electronic door switch and finding the room wasn't even locked.

"Right." He slid Q off his back to lie slumped on the bed, and the sight of his Quartermaster so vulnerable made him pause for a moment, but he shook his head. He didn't want to take much time getting away.

He stripped Q down to his boxers and noted that the young man had been truthful; his ribs were battered, but didn't feel broken; the young man had been able to hang onto him without gasping in pain, so nothing too severe there and his face was swollen down one side with open wounds from where he had been hit. However while he was badly bruised and covered in cuts and grazes, his feet really were the worst part of him.

He hesitated for a moment, but decided to trust Q's judgement when he said they had taken care of his feet; Bond really didn't want to linger any more than necessary. Leaving the rucksack by the door for the moment, he fished the case out from under the bed that contained stuff he hadn't been planning to take and grab a spare change of clothing for them both.

It thankfully didn't take long to stuff Q's limp body into clean clothing, though he left the boots off for the moment, simply covering the bandages in clean socks. Fresh water from the sink helped to rouse Q and Bond used his more lucid moments to slip the backpack onto the boffin's shoulders before getting the young man on his back again.

They passed only a handful of people as they moved back through the complex, mostly Oberhauser's own boffins who had been running the surveillance on site but they gave Bond and Q wide berth without making eye contact. Apparently most boffins conformed to a stereotype regardless of who they worked for; those in Q branch often had similar behaviour (Q being one of the obvious exceptions). However, Bond supposed it definitely hinted at their intelligence, because he didn't feel the need to shoot a single one of the boffins that scurried past them.

Even so, Bond decided they needed information so the next one that they passed, the agent stepped in front of with a frown on his face. "Where does Oberhauser keep keeps his vehicles?"

"V-vehicles? His cars?" at Bond's stuff nod he hurried on, "Basement lev- level 2." And when the agent continued to stare he removed his lanyard and held it out "Here. It's B2 on the lift buttons."

And then the man pressed back against the wall, his eyes fixed to the floor. Q didn't stir in his back, so Bond chose to follow the instructions he had been given. "Wait." He suddenly spoke up before leaving, "which one is most likely to have plenty of fuel in it?"

"Umm... The lotus? Oh wait, no. That's had problems with the battery." The man frowned slightly, his eyes flitting from one side to the other as though he was mentally reading a list of all the different cars. "Mr Largo has just returned from his trip and he does normally fill his car up and bring an extra container of diesel with him because he doesn't want to get stuck out here."

"Which car is that?"

"It's the jeep wrangler, sir. The one with the white paint splashed over the bonnet. The keys are left in the glove box because no one would dare to take his car."

"Excellent." Bond said cheerfully.

He thanked the boffin and strode off in the direction he had been pointed to. Hopefully even Q would approve of a jeep; if he'd been fully aware, he's probably be happy with the way Bond had spoken to the boffin... though any compliment on that would no doubt be hidden in snarky comments.

"B2." He muttered as he pressed the button before leaning back to press Q against the wall. The young man had started slipping as they had headed down the corridor, having either dozed off or passed out; Bond wasn't sure which but he couldn't do anything about it now anyway. He simply adjusted his grip so that he could hold the Quartermaster more securely, took a deep breath and carefully exited the lift.

There was more than one 4x4 in this level of the basement, but the jeep with white paint over the front was easy enough to spot.

The jeep was unlocked so Bond opened the passenger door and turned around, dumping Q into the seat before facing the man to manoeuvre long limbs into the vehicle.

"Bond?" Q stirred as the agent tugged him forwards enough to remove the backpack, dropping that in the footwell beside Q's damaged feet then buckling him in, but those tired eyes shut again once he saw that it was the older man.

"I even checked we have fuel, Q. So you'd better get some rest." Bond said warmly he retrieved the keys; in the glove compartment was a map with pen marks on it and he took that too before moving round to the driver's side.

The map had a town circled on it and beside that were the makings that, on road signs, usually meant a train station. There were other things marked up, including what looked like the train station Bond had arrived at, but the town was a better idea as it would have food and water. Praying that Largo wasn't writing in code in the map, but genuinely wanted to know where the nearest train station was, the agent started the engine and headed up the ramp and out into the grounds.

By the gate was the boffin Bond had stopped and while the agent still approached, he did slide his jacket open enough to give easy access to the gun that was tucked into his belt.

"Here. These are the painkillers the doctor gave me." He held up a small parcel. "I ... here. Sorry." The man's eyes flicked over to Q and then away just as quickly. Bond easily spotted guilt in the gesture though it was possible the boffin also felt some kinship with Q, some empathy for a geek on the other side.

As the man opened the gate for them, Bond supposed it didn't really matter. As long as they got back home in a condition that was as close to intact as possible.

The drive was quiet; Q was dozing off the painkillers in the feeling of relative safety and Bond didn't bother trying the radio. He still felt tense and the jeep wasn't the most comfortable thing he had ever driven. Even so, they did at least make headway and after nearly two hours of careful driving Bond spotted a smudge on the horizon that wasn't just his imagination.

"Yes." He hissed, still too tense for a smile but he was flooded with relief nonetheless.

Q hummed beside him, and Bond nearly startled to see him awake. They had been driving through the sweltering heat for some time as morning edged slowly on and Q hadn't made a sound the entire time. Glancing at him now, the agent observed how stiffly he was holding himself – painkillers had clearly worn off then, but what he had given Q in the complex hadn't been anything strong, just what he had had to hand. He would have a look at the parcel they had been given when they stopped.

"I can see the town we're heading for." He explained to the young man, a smile finally emerging when Q grinned through his own pain at the news. "We can have a look at the best options for getting home."

"I think..." Q's voice was carefully controlled, but Bond could hear a myriad of tones in it, from stress to exhaustion to fear... "I would even board a plane if it meant air conditioning."

The piece of shit he was driving didn't have working air con, although he had discovered it would happily blast hot air into your face if you tried to access it. If he'd been feeling better, Bond reckoned his own boffin could have fixed that problem, but he wasn't letting Q move until he had to. It was probably a clear indicator of his own concern for thee young man, because Bond rather thought that even though they were heading into a town where they would get supplies before boarding a train, he would have gone to the tiny station he'd gotten off at when coming here and done without food if it meant avoiding this heat.

"Are we going to the embassy?" Q asked as the town grew larger.

"What for?"

"I don't know what happened to my passport."

"I have it. It's in that bag." He informed the young man. Q apparently hadn't considered the fact that his own glasses were perched on his face, or that he was dressed in different clothes. "Trust me, Q. I'll get us back."

"I hope so…" but Q was settling back into his chair as comfortably as he could manage.

Once they were in the town, Bond stopped at a small shop to buy food and chat to the owner. He found that the train would leave in about an hour, an old noisy thing but he seemed to be fond of it in the nostalgic way that hinted at a story Bond didn't bother asking about. He was also informed that it would take nearly two hours to reach the nearest airport, a much smaller one that the one he had arrived at, but the elderly man assured him that it would have a flight to England.

Thanking the man and heading back to Q who was sitting under a nearby awning (They had abandoned the jeep as soon as they reached the town, the risk of it being recognised too high), Bond handed over some fresh fruit for him to enjoy as they headed to the station. It wasn't a long walk, the town really only just larger than a village but Bond dragged it out anyway as he felt better with Q securely plastered to his back and the occasional breeze they came across on their walk. With only half an hour until the train was due, Bond climbed the small ramp that led to the raised platform by the tracks.

"My own bed in my own home." Q sighed into Bond's neck as the man crouched down to let him settle on the ground. "With my cats who won't be pissed at getting left at the boarding cattery for so long. I've never left them for longer than two days. Whenever things get busy at Q Branch, I tell someone to go fetch them."

Bond dropped to the ground beside him, their shoulders pressed together once Q had removed the bag and placed it in front of them; the two men sat together in silence for a while, paying no real attention to the handful of other people around them, beyond 007 assessing how much of a threat they were likely to be.

"Oberhauser had a cat. A white Persian. I hope it'll be ok." The young man mused after a while, his voice tired as he leaned more fully against the agent.

"I didn't blow the place up and people were left behind. It'll survive."

Q didn't reply. He just sighed and rested more of his weight against the man.

"Here." Bond pressed a flask into his hand. "Drink up."

Q pushed it away with a scowl. "I had a drink less than an hour ago. We don't want to run out."

"Then have some of mine." The Irish accent made them both startle slightly, though Bond hid it better. "I'm sorry, I made you jump. Good morning."

Beside them sat a priest, his white collar identifying him as his wide smile and familiar accent welcomed them. "Call me Harry." He said, his open expression something Bond automatically wanted to find suspicious.

"Quentin. At home I always say like the illustrator, but Roald Dahl isn't so popular out here, it seems." Q glanced at Bond and added, "This is James." The boffin straightened up a little and the older man tried not to be insulted as the Quartermaster managed to respond kindly to someone butting in on them.

"Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." The priest quoted. "In places his books made very good points."

"I've always liked them."

"Are you boys out here for charity work? You seem to have had a tough time of it."

"Just plain old work. Discussing roads for trade routes." Bond watched as Q easily gave to usual excuse to be travelling in Africa. His wrinkled nose gave the impression that he found the work dull and there was no obvious hint of a lie. For all that Q had never been able to lie to Bond, he apparently had no problem with it on unimportant stuff to those they passed on the road.

"Even so, it's very brave of you boys to come out here. Folk aren't always so welcoming of ... well..." Fr Harry looked uncomfortable as he tried and failed to say the word and it took Bond a long moment to realise that he thought they were gay.

"I think a pair of homosexual men is the phrase you're looking for." He stated coldly, somewhat annoyed that helping out Q had been translated in such a way. He was well aware of how dangerous it could be to be seen as homosexual in secluded regions.

"I... I'm not sure that that... well, I didn't mean to upset you." The man replied, but he handed over his water bottle to Q anyway, making sure he drank before timidly holding it out to Bond, who shook his head. "Ah, that's the train. Early today, apparently."

Q quickly slung the bag onto his back before climbing awkwardly onto Bond again.

The train carriage they entered was empty, Bond noted as he checked the compartments. The priest hadn't bothered to follow them so they had the car to themselves, the thought of which made him relax a little as he helped his Quartermaster into a seat.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, wondering if Q was in pain again. He'd given him some of the pills before they had left the jeep, but that had been nearly an hour ago; he wasn't entirely sure where Q's pain tolerance lay at.

"Something decent to eat is probably a good idea for both of us." Q said, shifting to sit upright as he once again removed the bag and began to hunt through it. "Go find us something?"

Bond stared for a moment, wondering if the other truly was alright after the difficult morning which had included shooting someone for the first time. However, Q seemed to be fine for the moment so, trusting that his moment of shock was going to resurface later, the agent headed out the door to search for the food car. Hopefully the little money he had in his pocket would suffice to get them some lunch.

It was second nature to flirt with the woman in the dining car when he went to ask about food, and soon enough the agent headed back to his companion. In the meantime, Q had gotten into his phone and was entirely absorbed in whatever he was doing, so the older man simply sat opposite him and pulled out the newspaper that he had collected.

"I thought you were getting food." Q remarked as he glanced up.

"I did. A hot meal each. I explained that you can't walk so they're bringing it here instead of making us go to the dining car." He smiled at Q, feeling reassured that things were looking up as he noted that the swelling in the boffin's face had gone down.

"Dare I ask what we're having?" Q asked dryly.

"We're both on pasta, I'm afraid. Nothing terribly exciting." There had been some wonderful steaks available, but Bond hadn't wanted to risk having Q cut into one. It had taken him a while after his first kill to be able to stomach steak again, with red juices leaking out.

"I've got us both booked onto a flight from Guelmim to London. It's nearly a nine-hour flight but we'll land in Gatwick just before eight." Q informed him, and Bond realised what he'd been doing on the phone. "I've done the check-in, and as we only have the one bag then hopefully we'll be through pretty quick."

"I have a gun. It's never a quick process."

"I've sorted that." Q smiled, but his eyes were a touch manic and Bond remembered Moneypenny telling him that Q was afraid of flying. He wondered if the need to sort out everything he could was a distraction from the flight. "You'll need to let security have a look, but you have allowances for certain weapons on your passport which are controlled by me."

"How fortunate I have you here then."

"Indeed."

They lapsed into silence but it was a comfortable one, the two men too tired to keep up conversation. The food when it arrived was simple, but adequate and both finished their meals. Q took both painkillers and his flight medication as the train approached the station before donning the bag and getting onto Bond's back again.

"Sorry." He apologised softly. "But in my email, I explained we'd been attacked so I can't walk. We just need to collect a wheelchair so you aren't carrying me all the time."

Bond nodded and found that Q had been correct; once they reached the airport, a young woman helpfully brought a wheelchair over for Q to sit in. Bond smiled at her, giving her a warm smile, however it wasn't enough to help them avoid all trouble; a man in a smart suit approached them. He identified himself as the district operations manager, but regardless of his title, he mostly seemed suspicious of the two men who had shown up sporting various injuries, some of which were quite noticeable. Although Bond supressed his scowl and kept up a charming persona, the suspicion didn't abate until the manager was approached by the priest who both vouched for them and thoroughly distracted the man, leading him away.

"And that is why you ought to be nice to random people." Q said haughtily, but Bond could hear the smirk in his voice. "You can avoid difficult situations if people think you're a nice young man."

"I am one, thank you very much." He replied, a grin bubbling up as he pushed Q through to the security.

"Well, you can fake being nice I suppose, but honestly? Young is a matter of perspective these days. Maybe if you're chatting to a rather generous elderly couple…" He laughed as Bond turned the chair around enough so Q could see him scowling.

"Oi! Just you remember who's in control of who here." He growled, before the laughter escaped and he set the other man to rights.

"Yes sir!" Q chirped cheekily as they continued one. "A young, loving soul in a battered old, grouchy body. Got it."

Bond just laughed again. "I'll let you off because of all the pills I saw you take earlier."

"Then we'll go back to London and kick C out on his arse. Try not to blow stuff up while we're there though."

"I'll do the arse kicking. You figure out a way to stop the all-seeing surveillance system."

"I'd make a start now if my laptop was working. Is Moneypenny picking us up? I'll need to stop by my flat and get my spare one."

"And then we can hunt down Oberhauser." And Bond allowed a predatory grin to stretch menacingly across his face.