"It isn't that hard, boy, to like you or love you
I'd follow you down, down, down
You're unbelievable"
- Lana del Rey, Million Dollar Man
A Piece of the Puzzle
There's a far off look in Q's eyes when he tells the story in his own words, filling in the blanks in James' theory, and James can't help but to hang on his every word. This is more than just a major key to the puzzle that is Q. Operatives don't often have heart-to-hearts with their colleagues, not if they've learnt their lessons, and certainly never about this touchy subject: what it was that had prompted them into service of their – or worse, someone else's – country. Sure, many of the agents at MI6 have entirely uninteresting backgrounds that are open secrets. Those are the men and women who were recruited at the top universities, newly spotted talents or just old blood; bright young things on their way up; just the way things have worked for generation upon generation in the Secret Service. But then there are those with stories like Bond's, or Q's, and that is why you don't ask. Because it reveals too much about a person. James has been wondering for a long time what it takes to get Q to drop that calm, smooth tone of voice he always uses, what it would take to make that voice stutter and break. Now he knows.
When Q starts talking about M, James thinks he has his answer as to why Q was so quick to help during the Skyfall-incident. Q is not an orphan, he learns, but he owed M just as much as James did. Call it narcissism, but when Q looks out over the water and says, with the voice of a lost child: "and I didn't manage to save her," James can't tear his eyes away. And when Q leans down towards the railing as if he's about to bury his head in his hands, James finds himself gently turning the young man around and kissing him.
It's a kiss initiated for all the wrong reasons. It's not part of their cover, because by no stretch of imagination is that required right now; it's not an expression of pure physical desire, even though that is there the moment James feels Q's lips part in surprise under his own; and it's certainly not love, because James doesn't kiss people out of love. Not anymore. But it is an act brought on by loneliness, and grief, and a need that has nothing to do with the body – and that is close enough. It's too close. It doesn't help that Q's mouth feels far more familiar than it should after just one kiss.
And yet, it's Q who breaks it off: for a second it seems as if he's about to step into James' arms, deepening the kiss, but then he changes direction and takes a short step back instead and the world comes back into focus. Neither of them speaks for a long time. Finally, Q clears his throat and says: "It's probably time to head back." So they do. They walk back, and they discuss the operation, and Q's voice quickly reverts to its usual polished tones. They both manage to act like nothing happened just as easily as they did after the incident in Reading, even though that was a necessity and this was... unprofessional. But then again, James is no stranger to unprofessional conduct, and he's not quite done figuring Q out yet, either.