[Author's Note: These chapters are a little shorter, so I'll be updating more frequently accordingly. Thanks for reading!]
Bond was already pulling his weapon as recognition dawned on MacMillan's face. MacMillan drew just as the bodyguard to Bond's left tried to tackle Bond. Bond dropped the bodyguard with a single headshot, turning back to find MacMillan's weapon pointed not at Bond but at Q.
Bond fired twice, the first of the rounds hitting MacMillan just as he was pulling the trigger. MacMillan jerked with the impact of the bullet but still got two shots off before Bond put the rest of the clip in his center mass.
It was over in seconds. Bond checked that MacMillan was down, kicking his gun away.
Bond turned to find Q covered in blood.
"Q," he said, his heart suddenly in his throat. As Bond stood frozen for an instant, Q dragged a forearm across his face, wiping the worst of the gore from his glasses with a grimace of distaste, and without pause pulled Kryptos's nearly headless corpse off the laptop. He heaved the body out of the chair, letting it fall to the ground, and then settled himself behind the keyboard, his fingers already tapping.
Bond pulled himself out of his frozen shock, dragging MacMillan's corpse free of the door and closing it. "Q. What in the fuck are you doing?"
"Hacking the killcodes," Q said tightly. "Now shut up and let me work."
Bond moved closer to Q, eyes raking his form to verify that he was not actually hit. The whole left side of Q's face and upper body was covered in blood and a fair amount of bits of skull and brain matter, but Q himself seemed unharmed. His face under the gore was pale but his jaw was set and his eyes were intent on the lines of code scrolling in a window under a flashing red timer.
8:33...8:32...8:31...
"There's no time, Q. We have to get out of here. Someone will have heard the shots." Bond shoved a new clip in his Walther, holstering it, and started to go through MacMillan and Kryptos's clothing, pocketing their mobiles.
"We need the data, 007. There will be records to show if this is the only copy, where it might have originated..."
Bloody hell. The stubborn idiot. Like it wasn't enough that he nearly just had his head blown off, now Q was tapping away at a laptop loaded with god knows how much explosive material, rigged up by two of the most bloody incompetent criminals Bond had ever encountered.
Bond looked over Q's shoulder.
7:44...7:43...7:42...
Fuck. Bond stepped swiftly to the door, looking out. The hallway seemed clear. He knew Q had looped all the cameras in the room and hallway for the meet, but if someone had heard the shots security would already be on their way.
6:31...6:30...6:29...
Bond crouched down at Q's side again. "Q, there's no time. Let it go."
Q never even paused in his typing. "The breach was my fault, 007. I can recover the data. Let me do my job."
Bond hissed in a frustrated breath. 5:49...5:48...5:47...
Q was good, Bond knew that. But who knew if the killcode would even work as promised? Time was running out, on multiple levels, and the urge to get Q away from this place and somewhere safe was almost overwhelming. That moment when he had looked over to find Q covered in blood kept replaying in his head. He had almost lost Q once, and now Q was within an armsreach of some kind of bomb, with no apparent concern for his own well-being...
Bond imagined the detonation. Q losing those elegant hands, that slim body being thrown backwards by the force of the blast...
"Fuck the data," Bond growled. He drew his Walther, placing four evenly spaced shots into the window of the conference room. Then he picked up a chair and smashed it through, the glass cracking from the corners of the square Bond had delineated.
Q's head whipped around. "What in the hell..."
3:28...3:27...3:26...
Bond yanked the laptop out from under Q's hands, snapping the lid shut. Moving to the window again, he hurled the laptop out over the harbor. A few tourists gaped up at him from the shore but the laptop traveled an impressive distance, landing well out into the water, sinking rapidly.
Bond grabbed a handful of Q's shirtsleeve and pulled him to his feet. Ignoring Q's protest Bond grabbed Q's laptop, shoving it at him. Q reflexively clasped the laptop to his chest and Bond towed him toward the door with his left hand, pulling his gun with his right. He snarled as Q yanked his shirtsleeve free, but simply rasped, "Stay behind me," and checked the hall.
They pounded down the hall to the stairwell. Bond led them back to their room by a circuitious route, avoiding the cameras wherever possible. He'd have to get Q to wipe the footage on any they had missed, but for now they had to get out of here. Narrowly avoiding a housekeeper and her cart Bond led Q into his room, shoving him in the direction of the bathroom and starting the shower for him.
"You have two minutes to get that blood off of you, and then we're gone." In the harsh light of the bathroom Q looked pale and fragile, his skin almost grey underneath the spatter of blood and tissue, his green eyes dazed behind the thick lenses of his glasses.
"Q," Bond barked. "Two minutes. Did you hear me, or do I need to wash you down myself?"
Q blinked. "Two minutes," he repeated numbly. He started to peel off his clothing as if on autopilot, and Bond left him to it.
It took thirty seconds for Bond to dig in Q's bag for a spare set of clothes to leave for him in the bathroom, gathering up the bloody clothes from the floor in a trash bag, wiping the traces of blood away with a towel and throwing that in the trash bag as well. Another minute was spent callously breaking down Q's computer setup. Bond simply yanked cables wherever he saw them and threw the whole mess back into the case. Bond's gear was already packed, but he stopped by his room to pick up his suitcase.
By the time he returned the shower was no longer running. Q came out of the bathroom dressed in the t-shirt and jeans Bond had left for him, swiping a towel through the mess of his hair. He sat on the bed and began to put on his socks and boots while Bond did a final check of the bathroom, wiping down Q's blood-spattered laptop with another damp towel and adding that towel to the trash bag.
Q was standing in the middle of the room, looking a bit lost. Bond slotted Q's laptop into his messenger bag and dropped it over Q's shoulder. Q automatically shifted the strap across his body and Bond handed him the case of electronics.
"Go out the terrace door as if you're going for a walk. Head west on Strömgatan. The Central Train Station is just over a kilometre from here. Take the next train to Uppsala. Check into the Raddison Blu with your backup passport. I'll clean up here and find you. Do you understand?"
"I don't think we should split up..."
"Q." Bond interrupted sharply. "This is what I do. If you get a secure connection from the train, contact MI6 and let them know what happened, and wipe as much footage as you can from the hotel cameras. I'll come by car and meet you with the rest of your luggage. Now go."
A muscle twitched in Q's jaw, but he nodded once curtly and then walked swiftly to the door, leaving without a second glance.
Bond left the room again, finding the housekeeping cart while the chambermaid was in another room and burying his trash bag at the bottom of the other trash. He did one last sweep of the room and then carried the luggage downstairs.
He flirted shamelessly with the desk clerk while watching plainclothes police officers filter in, snapping orders in low undertones.
"You and Mr. Darcy are leaving us so soon, Mr. Somerset? Such a shame!" the lovely blonde desk clerk asked.
Bond leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a purr. "Sadly, yes. I'd love to stay but my colleague," — he rolled his eyes — "...is all work and no play. He's dragging us off to Copenhagen for our next meeting."
The desk clerk leaned in as well, staring at Bond coquettishly through her long hair. "Well, perhaps you'll visit us again some time."
Bond handed the keys over, brushing her fingers as he did so. "I certainly will."
He nodded graciously at the plainclothes detective who was approaching the desk and continued on his way.
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