Chapter 2: The Kidnapping

James feigned sleep as Madeleine exited the bathroom attached to the small room they'd found to let for the night. He listened as she quietly put her jewelry case in her overnight bag and padded, barefoot, to the double bed in which he lay. He endured as she trailed a hand over his forehead, likely checking for fever, before she slipped into bed beside him.

"James," she breathed out quietly. "Whatever would I do without you, now?"

He barely withheld from speaking as she cuddled into him to fall asleep. Long moments passed as Madeleine's breathing slowed to a regular, deep and even pattern that meant true sleep. James waited, impatient and still, for his partner to show up.

A flash of red light from his right illuminated Madeleine's form as she went completely still.

"That ought to do it," Q said quietly as moved from the shadow in the corner on that side to look down on James.

"Stunned?" James guessed in a low tone.

Q nodded. "It will keep her out until morning. She won't know what happened."

James slid out from under the stunned woman's form, stood, and pulled Q in for a hug. "I need you," he said hoarsely.

Q kissed James' temple as he returned the squeeze. "You have me. Just have to do a few things first." He squeezed one more time, then slipped out of James' hold to toss through James' luggage, as if he were looking for something, and pull out anything vital that James needed to keep. He then tossed a coin bearing the symbol for SPECTRE onto the center of the bed where James had lain, then took James by the hand. "Let's go, love."

James nodded, tucking Q close as they turned on the spot and vanished with a quiet pop.

IMBM

They reappeared in their own flat. James relaxed his hold a bit and Q backed away, heading for the kitchen.

"Cuppa?" he asked as he went.

"Please," James affirmed, watching him go. Q's posture was a bit stiff, and James knew they'd have more to sort before they would be totally in tune again.

Q measured out loose tea, set the kettle to boil, and set out a teapot. He went through the ritual of brewing a proper cup of tea as if he was preparing it for landed company, and James' heart broke a little as he realized that his Harry was masking his true emotions and using the ritual to settle himself while doing so.

"Harry," James whispered. "I'm sorry."

Harry stilled for a moment, then continued, pouring boiling water into the pot over the loose tea in its strainer. "You were doing your job. You had my permission to use your body if you needed to," he reminded them both. Then he took a deep breath. "I didn't anticipate how much it would hurt. I don't know what I was thinking."

The men remained silent for a moment as Harry timed the steeping of the tea, plated biscuits, then removed the strainer. James sat at their small table, and Harry joined him with the pot and the plate. "I'll pour," Harry murmured, and they sat, each with a cuppa, the plate of biscuits between them almost an afterthought.

James didn't know quite what to do with this silence that had sprung up suddenly. He sipped his tea slowly, watching his partner do the same. He couldn't think of anything more he could say to bridge the gap. Being with Madeleine had been painful in a way that he'd never experienced before, and he was certain it had almost nothing to do with magic or their bond, and everything to do with his love for Harry.

Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "I don't want to be angry with you," he said quietly. "We both did what needed to be done in this case, and I figured out a way to get you out of Madeleine's hands so that we could move forward." He sighed. "But I'm trying to get past how easy it seemed for you to be physical with two women on this mission. And I know-I KNOW-that I want you do anything possible to get home to me alive. But. But. James."

James reached out slowly, gently pulled Harry's hands off of his face, and held them in his own, looking into Harry's red-rimmed green eyes. "There wasn't anything easy about it, Harry," he said simply. "It was necessary for the mission. And I felt like a whore. And it was the most painful thing I've ever done-and I don't think that had anything to do with the magical bond."

"You're not a whore," Harry retorted vehemently.

"But I felt like one, Harry," James said painfully. "There's always been an element of that in this job-doing whatever's necessary to the mission. Using my guns, my wits, my body. Whatever. Is. Necessary." He swallowed, hard. "I just don't think that I can do that anymore. I don't want to. I want to save my body for you."

Harry sobbed harshly and pitched himself into James' arms, which wrapped around him tightly.

Long moments passed for James and Harry as they held each other closely, and if they cried a few cleansing tears, only they knew about it.

IMBM

"Well, George, that's a first," Ron observed as he catalogued Alec Travelyan's response to the Puking Pastilles. "I've not seen vomit in quite that shade before."

"Right you are, Ron," George noted, writing something on a clipboard. "Do you suppose it's the borscht he had for lunch?"

"Piss off," Alec gasped out, before retching again.

"Yes, let's make sure he's got the antidote then," Ron said briskly, handing out the other end of the candy for Alec to force down his throat when the bout was over.

The trio were working on ways to adapt some of the WWW products for use in espionage. An on-the-spot debilitating illness seemed just the thing for some kinds of distractions, and Alec was testing out the Skiving Snackboxes to consider their utility for the field.

Alec forced the antidote down and sat up. "I don't know about that one. You really need to be able to move-this seems too debilitating for true usefulness. What's next?"

"Nosebleed Nougats!" Ron and George exclaimed together.

"Joy," Alec said sourly. "Can I get a glass of water first?"