CHAPTER 3. Travel plans

Q blinked several times, the room was blurry and dimly lit, his head pounded and mouth felt as if he'd swallowed a bucket of sand. Instinctively he moved to adjust his glasses, only to find his hands were bound tightly behind his back, and to his further despair he couldn't move his legs either.

"Oh, look he's waking up." An unfamiliar male voice announced just to his left, causing the young man to flinch. Q heard the slight twinge of an Italian accent.

"Shut it, the boss said we aren't to talk to him." Said a second voice, another faint accent but this time Russian.

"He doesn't look so intimidating." Said the Italian. "Oi!" the first to speak was the one tapping Q roughly on his cheek. "You don't look like you're old enough to be driving let alone head of MI6's Q branch."

Q squinted trying to make out the blurred face nearly nose to nose with him.

"I-I'm not. You must have made a mistake. I-I" Q remembered the protocol, he needed to sound like a scared intern or low level tech.

"Oh, come now Quartermaster we know who you are. No fun in pretending." The Italian laughed, "I've actually been dyeing to meet you. I expected a man, but instead here is a boy. "

Q remained quiet he needed to think, he could rely on the tracker in his shoulder.

"Now, I know what you're thinking Meschino. That your little tracker will keep you safe, but unfortunately this is not the case."

"Stop talking and just do it." The Russian growled.

"Oh, come one. Let me have my fun. I owe the little bastard."

"You heard the boss, you were supposed to cut that thing out of him already."

"I will, I will. Eventually." The Italian smiled "Besides he didn't say I had to be gentle."

Q held back a shudder, his heart starting to pound as his brain calculated all likely outcomes.

"This room is made special to block any signals in or out, so that little chip is completely useless right now while you're here. But we do have to move you so it'll have to go. And we'll have to search you quite thoroughly for any other devices or weapons. It would be a lie for me to say I wont enjoy this."

The Italian chuckled darkly, "Meschino indeed. You know when we took you no one batted an eye. They think you on vacation. By the time they realize you are taken it will be too late. The boss already has several buyers lined up all vying for your head. How sad to be at the top, it's a lonely existence for you having no friends. But good for us. No one will come looking for you. They don't miss you."

Q didn't reply, instead he concentrated on blocking what was to come out, he needed to hang on. It was easy enough to explain away the fact he had gone on vacation if these idiots had someone working inside MI6. Which was very likely, Q knew this was a fact due to these assassins for hire knowing who he was. Q's identity was well protected. For good reason, Q may be young but he could easily topple governments with the flick of his wrist and tap of his fingers.

This was going to hurt, Q thought when the first slice of a knife pierced his shoulder. There was a hope somewhere in the back of his mind that James would notice his absence.

The young Quartermaster closed his eyes, remembering the double O was due back tomorrow, tonight? Q estimated only a day had passed possibly two, he tried to recall the minutes leading up to this.

"Dammit scream!" The Italian growled, forcing Q out of his own mind back into this painful reality.

~0~

Bond paced like a caged lion, his piercing blue eyes surveyed the area outside the glass box they were keeping him in. He was familiar with such a holding cell, it was similar to the one Silva had been kept in.

This was a waste of time! Q was out there, someone had him! They could be torturing him, the kid wasn't made for field work he wasn't built to waistband the horrors of captivity. Bond knew from experience what it could do to a mind, he was trained and conditioned for interrogation and whatever methods a captor would practice.

Q was fragile with his mess of unkempt curls, his damn dark framed glasses and high cheekbones. The kid had to be reminded to eat and drink for Christ sake! He was a genius sure but he was just a kid.

It was a mistake coming here to this place trying to talk to the great untouchable Mycroft Holmes. James had thought that maybe the notorious Iceman would help him find Q. The way Q had spoken of his cousin, with a tinge of sadness and respect, James had thought that was something. However he was obviously wrong, perhaps he should have gone to the other brother. Sherlock, the consulting detective might have been the better choice.

The secret agent scowled at the glass walls of his cage, if there was a bed or a chair in this room he'd of kicked it or sent it flying at the wall. He wanted to hit something and hit it hard.

He should have gone to Sherlock, the man was a smug bastard but he was good. Bond had worked with him on a few assignments during the detectives great 'hiatus'. The double O could see such a strong resemblance between Q and Sherlock, perhaps that's why he was able to put up with the arrogant prick.

The sound of an alarm pierced the air and the lights blinked on and off briefly, the double O agent tensed instinctively. As if his day couldn't get any worse.

"Hang on Q, I'll find you." The man vowed through clinched teeth, oh yes he would find his friend and he would personally see all those involved in this bloodied and dead at his feet.

~0~

John checked his ticket and frowned slightly realizing he would be leaving the warm weather of Columbia for the cooler climate of London. Someone bumped into him, "Sorry." The young man apologized and John quickly checked for his wallet, sighing in relief when he found it.

He almost laughed at himself for thinking so poorly of people, but living with the great genius and unapologetic pick pocket Sherlock Holmes Johncouldn't help it.

He moved towards the line for boarding passing through a metal detector, the sound of the alarm brought several armed airport security officials towards him. "Not again." John cursed.

"This way." A man in a blue security uniform barked taking his arm and another took his bag leading him out of sight.

John could laugh recalling how it was fitting that his trip home would be this way, after all when he left England almost a year ago it had started the same way.

Just as before, Mycroft's men ironed out the details, the gun they found in his bag turned out to be a fake. Someone's idea of a prank. John wondered how Sherlock managed it this time, he almost called the bastard just to ask, but decided he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Still it was impressive.

~0~

Doctor Morgan observed two of the airport's security men apologizing for the inconvenience and offering to usher the blond Doctor to the front of the line for boarding. John shook his head, and waved them off irratably.

"Damn that man." Morgan hadn't wanted it to go this way, in fact he was trying to avoid this all together but it was going to happen no matter what.

~0~

John wanted to scream when he found out the damn flight was delayed, he had just enough time to get something to eat. Except he never made it to the small food court, the last thing he remembered was being shoved hard into the mens room.

Instincts of a soldier and being the companion of a criminal chasing detective allowed him to land several punches to his attackers before the sharp pinch of a needle to the back of his neck had him losing consciousness.