Finally, here is the last chapter. A huge thank you to Fingirl, who has reviewed every chapter and said such nice things. You're a dear and have made posting this such a pleasure. Thank you 3
Epilogue Part I
The summer comes and goes, and then the fall lingers a bit before winter. Bond might have quit MI6, but he's there more often than not, taking on projects and training seminars and downright loving the fact that he can scare the piss out of new recruits with just a glare. Q tells him that it's sadistic, but does not make him stop, and even lets Bond test out new weapons for him from time to time. But Bond knows that Q really loves him when he hands him the keys to a Bugatti and the two of them go out into the country for a weekend to drive too fast and shoot small missiles at random targets.
"And here I thought retirement would be boring," Bond says, one night when they are dressing to go to the theatre. Moneypenny had somehow finagled tickets to the sold out show and handed them to Bond with a sly smile.
"Do you really think I would let be you bored?" Q replies, frowning at his reflection as he tries to straighten his bow tie. "That's just asking for trouble."
"You never did make me an exploding pen," Bond points out, reaching round Q to fix his tie.
"You really are never going to stop asking, are you?" he sighs.
Bond kisses him in reply and hurries him along so that they can catch their cab. The seats are quite good and the production much more enjoyable than Bond anticipated, maybe even more so because Q truly enjoys himself. They forgo drinks afterward so that they can go home, where they methodically remove one another's clothing and crawl into bed. Laid out beneath him, Q is a pale expanse of canvas. The flowers on his side are still vibrant, but now there are also scars: one a long line along his forearm, another curved around the left wing of his shoulder, the gnarly gash in Q's right knee. Bond kisses them all, as if his lips will be enough to erase them from Q's skin. Even though he has healed completely, Bond is still very careful with Q, like he might break if Bond is too rough. But Q pulls at his hair and grips at his shoulders hard enough to leave imprints and all but begs him to be less conscientious, so Bond gives him what he wants. After they clean up, they lie in the darkness and breathe in tandem and listen to the sound of London settling down outside their window. Bond has his arm round Q's waist, his chest pressed to the other man's back, and he thinks that the only way they can possibly be closer is if they become one being.
He closes his eyes and thinks about how all humans were one entity before Zeus separated them into two, and how everyone is actually one half of one whole. And that is when Q slides his hand over Bond's as if he knows what he's thinking.
"What do you think changed?" Bond asks
"I don't know," Q replies.
Bond can never stop being amazed that Q always knows what he is talking about, even without context.
"What do you think will happen?"
"No idea."
Bond nuzzles Q's hair.
"But I think it's going to be okay," Q says.
"Yeah?" Bond asks.
"Yeah," Q murmurs, and twines their fingers together.
Bond is not sure when he falls asleep, but when he wakes in the morning, he feels rested and unanxious for the first time in a long time. It is snowing lightly outside. The house smells like coffee and Q's aftershave and it's quiet save for the low volume of the telly in the living room and bubbling of the kettle for tea. The domesticity should kill Bond, but it's nice-wonderful, even-and he knows that he would not trade it for anything, not even for the excitement of his old life in international espionage.
He yawns, runs a hand through his hair, and that's when he notices it around his left ring finger.
"Good morning."
Bond looks up and sees Q standing in the doorway. He's showered and dressed, but not for work, and he's smiling at Bond, at the silver band adorning his finger.
"What's this?" Bond asks, holding up his hand.
"Looks like a ring," Q replies, and he's fighting a grin as he comes closer.
"I can see it's a ring," Bond answers, and he cannot keep the smile from his face, so wide that he feels it pulling at his cheeks.
"Well what do you think?" Q asks, one knee, then the other on the bed next to Bond.
"You didn't ask," Bond replies, as Q moves to straddle him. He's still all lines and angles, but he's beautiful and Bond's.
"I didn't want to give you the chance to say no," Q says, moving his arms round Bond's shoulders.
"Do you think I could?" Bond asks.
"I don't know," Q replies, and smiles without any secrets. His eyes are brilliantly green. "Everything is different now."
"Not so different," Bond says, and kisses him. Q does not pull away, even though Bond realises a moment too late that he probably has terrible morning breath.
"Is that a yes?" Q asks, when they part.
"Yes," Bond says. "Yes, now, and the next time, and the time after that, and the time after that."
"Well, what about the fourth time from now?"
"Hmmm...not sure. Times change, you know, so let's just leave that at a maybe."
Q pushes him backwards onto the bed playfully.
"Well maybe you'll change your mind when you see what's under your pillow."
Bond looks at Q, who raises his eyebrow at him in challenge. He slides his hand beneath the pillow and pulls out a white envelope. Inside are two first class train tickets to Paris.
"So now what do you have to say?" Q asks, and lies down on top of him. He smells like bergamot. Bond pulls him close, nearly crushing Q against his chest.
"Yes," Bond murmurs in his hair. "Yes now, and forever."
"I'm holding you to it," Q warns him.
"Good."
Epilogue Part II
Q falls back with a sigh onto the massive expanse of bed and smiles so brightly that Bond thinks it rivals the sun. He follows suit, collapsing into the smooth sheets next to Q. They are in Paris and it's New Year's Eve. They can see the Eiffel Tower from their suite, illuminated by bright lights in the distance. The city is buzzing with life and excitement for a new year, new beginnings, and Bond can feel it like a heartbeat around them. Q curls a leg around Bond's as he leans over him to reach for the champagne.
"What was different?" Bond asks.
"Well, certainly that last position. I didn't know I could be quite so flexible," Q replies, handing him a flute of champagne, which Bond almost drops onto the sheets. "Must have been all that yoga I did during physical therapy."
Bond laughs before he can stop himself, and Q joins in almost immediately.
"You know what I mean," Bond says, once they both calm down.
"Of course I do," Q replies, setting his empty glass on the bedside table before lying down on top of Bond in a comfortable sprawl.
"So what do you think?" Bond asks, placing his beverage next to Q's. He idly pets at Q's hair as the other man trails his fingers down over Bond's collarbone, over the mark on his chest. Q's wedding band is skin warm when it smooths along his pectoral. Bond takes Q's hand in his and kisses at the ring, which matches the silver loop around his own finger.
"Well, I might have an idea," Q answers.
"Oh?"
"I think...we messed up the pattern somehow."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, the cycle was always the same: we would meet and then within less than a year's time, you would die," Q explains, and looks sad, but only for a moment. "But this time, we met, and within less than a year's time, I did."
Bond drags his fingers through a stubborn knot in Q's hair, remembering how close he was to losing Q all those months ago.
"The doctor said I died," Q continues.
"You did," Bond replies. "I felt it."
"What?"
"I felt it."
They lie there in silence for some time.
"You're sure?" Q asks quietly.
"Remember, you once told me that it hurt...hurt so badly it was like being ripped in half. I thought that I was dying…" Bond answers.
"Yes," Q says softly. "That's what it's like."
"So maybe... because your heart stopped before mine…it might be okay."
"Maybe."
Q sighs against Bond's chest.
"So this is what it's like, then?" he asks.
"What what's like?" Bond replies.
"Not knowing," Q clarifies.
"Yes," Bond says.
Q is quiet a long while.
"It's terrifying," he says.
"I know, but you're not alone," Bond tells him.
"No, I'm not."
They are breathing in time and their heartbeats are synchronised, like the organ of one being instead of two. Somewhere, a clock strikes midnight and there are fireworks outside their window. The lights reflect off the walls in whites and pinks and reds and purples and it makes Bond think about amaranths and what they mean, what they symbolise: eternal life, undying feelings of love and commitment and understanding. Eternity.
It's not really a prison, Bond realises, but rather what you make of it.
People are cheering outside to 2014 while Bond thoroughly kisses Q into the new year. He can only hope that they see many more together.
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And they do.