The Undertaker's Wind
M died.
Q wasn't quite sure how, wasn't quite sure if anyone knew the details surrounding her murder, at least, not anyone asides from James bloody Bond himself.
The Quartermaster had done his job and then some, leading Silva on a wild goose chase to the middle of a wasteland in Scotland where it turned out 007 had an ancestral home. Silva arrived, along with a large number of mercenaries, most of whom were on Interpol's Most Wanted, and a battle ensued. From what Q could gather, Bond and Silva had fought, and fought like the barbaric alpha's that they all pretended not to be too. The manor house, Skyfall, was burned to the ground in the process, Silva was killed by a meat cleaver, of all things, and M had bled out in Bond's arms.
Q went to the funeral.
Once Silva was declared dead and the threat had officially passed, he'd gone back to his apartment for the first time in over a month, bringing Yana and Paco with him. R was sad to see the cats leave but had ordered Q to eat, shower, and get at least eight hours sleep before he even dared to return.
He was woken the next afternoon by his second-in-command sending a brief message to the entire TSS group chat, listing the time and place of M's burial.
Q didn't own a suit, not that he thought the formidable woman would have even cared, but either way he elected to stand in the background of the funeral processions, a scarf and long Belstaff coat his only protection against the vicious December wind.
He wondered distantly if M would have scoffed at the idea of being buried on Christmas Day, or if she would have agreed to it simply because it meant fewer people attended her funeral.
Still, there was a large enough turnout, between distant relatives, '6 employees, and agents. Eight of the nine double-0s were still abroad, some on missions and some simply off-grid, but this was the first time since being appointed Quartermaster that Q would have enough time and resources to track them down.
All except 007, naturally.
Similar to Q, the man stood just outside the conglomerate of grievers, blending into the background of the graveyard effortlessly. He, of course, was wearing a suit, along with a woollen coat and a scowl as the priest droned on and on about honor and patriotism and the kingdom of heaven.
Q wondered if he was the only one who even noticed that Bond was there.
From his limited interactions with the man, and with M herself, he got the impression that she was like a mother to the agent, or, at least, the closest thing to a mother that Bond had. It felt almost… wrong, in one sense, for Q to be standing here too, because of that. His own relationship with the incredible woman was but a brief second compared to all the years she'd known 007, and the last thing the Quartermaster wanted was to insult Bond by acting as if M was just as important to both of them.
But the thing was, she had been important to him. After Boothroyd and Bill, M was the third and only person who never doubted his abilities based solely on his dynamic, and Q knew already that he was going to miss her fiercely.
And along with that grief and bittersweetness, he couldn't help but feel concern and a touch of fear. M was gone, after all, and her seat was awaiting a new owner. She had already broken a ton of rules by appointing an omega to the position of Quartermaster, war times or not. And if the next M wasn't as open-minded as she'd been, then Q was going to be in a fuck ton of trouble.
He was lucky.
Gareth "carry on" Mallory became the new M, and despite their tumultuous beginning, it was clear that the alpha only had the best interests of MI6 at heart. That level of dedication, however, was a double-sided blade, and three days after M's funeral, Q was unsurprised but still terrified to be called into the man's new office.
Stepping into the secretary's room just outside the lion's den, Q was more than grateful to find Bill hovering just inside the door.
The beta gave him a grim look. "He's waiting for you".
"Right" he nodded, "And, uh… just how mad is he, exactly?"
Tanner hummed and rocked back and forth on his heels.
"Honestly, I think he's more angry that M kept it from him when he was Chairman than anything. You should be fine".
"Should, being the keyword" he muttered, staring at the brown leather door with apprehension.
"Q, I can… go in with you, if you like. If you're worried that he'll-"
"No" he quickly interrupted, "No, that, uh… that won't be necessary, Bill, thank you. I'm just…"
An omega about to walk into a room alone with an angry alpha.
"Yeah" Bill said quietly, "Well, listen, I best be off then. I've got to give 007 his new papers".
Q turned to him, surprised.
"He's staying?"
"Apparently". The beta shrugged. "He's a good agent, I'll give him that much, even if he does thread on the… unconventional side".
The Quartermaster snorted and stepped away from the door to allow the man to pass. Bill smiled but paused at the edge of the room, and Q felt simultaneously embarrassed and in awe of the blatant concern that the beta showed him.
"You sure you'll be alright?"
"'Course". He forced a smirk. "Just, uh… do me a favour, yeah? Tell R that she's next in line to the throne, in case I don't come back".
Bill laughed, and with a nod, he was gone.
Q slowly turned back to the large intimidating door across from him, and, after taking more than a few deep breaths, he reached up and knocked.
"Come in".
Silently stepping inside, Q let the door close shut behind him, the muffled click sending a spike of fear through his heart.
This is bloody ridiculous, he cursed himself, it's Mallory, you know Mallory, he helped you with the entire Skyfall debacle, Mallory won't hurt you, he has no reason to.
Another, smaller voice at the back of his head echoed, he had no reason to when he thought you were a beta.
The man in question glanced up at him from behind a large teak desk, a file in his hands and his arm still in a sling.
"Ah, Q, good, you're right on time. Take a seat".
The Quartermaster carefully did as told, sitting down in one of the high-backed leather chairs directly opposite the older man. At least it put him closer to the door, he mused.
"I suppose you've guessed why I've called you in here today?"
"I have a rough idea, sir".
There was no point in confirming it, after all, until the man himself stated that he knew.
As if sensing his inner thoughts, Mallory paused, shut the file in front of him, and tossed it up on the desk between them. The resounding thud made Q flinch.
"... Quartermaster-"
"Am I?" he couldn't help but interrupt.
"... Are you what?"
"Still Quartermaster" he replied, before adding a quick, "sir".
Mallory studied him for a moment, before straightening up in his seat and leaning forwards, not close enough for it to be considered a threat, but still close enough for Q to realise that what he was about to say was important.
"You have a rather interesting file, Q".
"Oh?"
"Yes. Oh. To begin with, there's no digital copy to speak of. I had initially assumed that was your doing, as Quartermaster, however, Mr Tanner was very quick to tell me that you have never had a digital file, nor did he intend to create one".
Q couldn't help but smile.
Good ole' Bill.
"As you can imagine, I was rather surprised. So I asked him to dig out this old thing out of storage" Mallory continued, tapping the brown manilla folder that lay on the desk between them. Q belatedly realised that it wasn't just any file, it was his.
"I'm sure you know what I found inside".
"Not what you expected to?" he quipped, heart rate finally starting to slow as he realised that the alpha was just as calm and collected as ever. He wasn't angry, then, at least not yet, and not at Q himself.
Mallory's mouth quirked up momentarily.
"Quite" he agreed, "The important information is still there, of course, your dynamic, for starters, along with any pertinent medical information. No family or relatives to speak of, and only a ground-floor apartment to your name. Or, at least, to someone's name. I'm guessing that Desmond Cleese is an alias?"
"Yes sir".
He nodded. "Yes, I thought so… Your real name isn't listed, Q. Neither is your date of birth. And your past, for what little of it is actually here, has all been blacked out… For all intents and purposes, Quartermaster, you do not exist".
"Thank you, sir".
Mallory paused and gave him a look, and Q felt a brief stab of panic at the thought of maybe he'd pushed the man too far.
"Is there a reason for this?"
"Yes".
"And?"
For the first time since entering the office, Q took his eyes off the alpha, turning instead to gaze at the painting next to him. It was quite similar to Turner's The Fighting Temeraire that he'd sat in front of at the National Gallery all those weeks before. Maybe spies just had a thing for ships.
"Q?"
Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the new M. The man looked back at him, an oddly calming presence in the intimidating room.
"... I don't enjoy telling this story".
Mallory nodded before slowly leaning back in his chair, almost contemplatively.
"Broad stroke it for me, then".
Which-
That was a lot more leniency than Q had been expecting.
Seeing the surprise that was no doubt rather obvious on his face, Mallory gave a small smile.
"You're still Quartermaster, Q, omega or not. Yes, I admit, I was… more than a little shocked when I found out the truth, but I would be an idiot to immediately dismiss you because of your dynamic. As much as it pains me to say it, I believe my predecessor had the right idea in appointing you when she did… You're good, Q. You managed to keep MI6 afloat and keep its agents alive during the worst period of time that this organisation has ever gone through… Quite frankly, I don't give a damn that you're an omega. If you're that good under that much pressure… well. Let's just say I'm expecting great things from you" he finished, "Quartermaster".
Q felt his eyes burn as a huge weight lifted off of his chest, and he quickly turned back to stare at the painting so that the older man wouldn't see. He had known, objectively, that the man wouldn't have fired him, not when he'd put the safety of M over his own boss, not when he'd taken a bullet for M and risked his job, his livelihood, everything in making sure that Silva was caught. But still, still, there was so much bigotry in the world, so much elitism and dynamicism, that he couldn't be sure of the man's true intentions.
Not when he'd fallen so hard for a supposedly kind alpha before, and then paid the price.
"... Before I joined MI6, I was a computer security specialist" he started suddenly, "I mostly did remote work, but from time to time I was required to set up things on-site. I focused on companies, large companies, those with offices all over the world, and one of my most important clients was based in Hong Kong. I spent a few weeks there, setting up security measures, and I… met someone".
Mallory, thankfully, remained silent, and Q spent a moment angrily shoving away all those traitorous fucking memories before continuing.
"Long story short, he wasn't who I thought he was. Things started getting… worse, and he eventually came into the possession of a device that would have annihilated England, if not all of Europe. By that stage, I was… unable to fight against him. Not directly, at least. But I'd always been good with computers, and one night I managed to steal his phone. Ten minutes later, I'd hacked into MI6 and I left them… a message, as it were".
Q forced himself to turn back to the alpha, to gauge his reaction and figure out if he needed to run. Mallory, however, gazed back at him, face stoic but a slight tension in his jaw. Probably safe, then.
"The Head of MI6 at the time was a man called Admiral Hargraves, and we struck a deal. I would stay with MI6 and use my computer skills in TSS, and in return, I would tell him everything that I knew, and…"
"And MI6 would offer you protection" Mallory finished quietly, "Your… companion, at the time… He wasn't caught?"
Q snorted. "Oh, no, they caught him alright. He just didn't stay caught… Hargraves made me disappear. It was only meant to be a temporary situation, but… well, the son of a bitch escaped. If I leave MI6, if I try to start over, then…"
"Then you're as good as dead".
He nodded. "The… person that I was with is… vengeful, to say the least. It's safer for everyone if he doesn't find out where I am. It's safer for everyone if nobody hears this story".
Mallory nodded once, quick and decisive.
"Message received, Quartermaster. You have my word that I won't tell anyone else, and I'll keep your file as… barren as it currently is".
"Thank you, sir".
He waved a dismissive hand.
"It's the least I can do if what you're saying is true. Not that I doubt you, mind, but I am the type of man who enjoys structure, and without confirmation of this I'm afraid that I'll always be a little suspicious... Don't take it personally, will you?"
Q smiled and shook his head.
"Does anyone else know?"
"Bill has a rough idea" he admitted, "Very rough idea, and R is… well. She's R. I've never told her anything, but… I don't know. She has the uncanny ability to just know things, that woman".
"Then I'm glad that she's on our side" Mallory finished, pushing Q's file to the side, "But while we're on the topic of TSS, have you given any thought to hiring more staff?"
The omega was more than grateful for the change of topic.
"I have, and I plan to start soon, sir, given your permission".
"Permission granted. I trust that you'll be discreet?"
"Of course, sir". Q smirked. "In fact, I already have a few ideas about this whole interview process".
Mallory gave him a look, although it was more amusing than admonishing.
"Try not to scare them too badly, would you, Quartermaster?"
"I'll do my best, sir" he quipped, standing back up, "If that's all-?"
"Yes, yes, that's all, you can go back to your branch, Q".
"Sir".
He nodded respectfully and started walking towards the door.
"Oh, and, uh, one last thing, Quartermaster".
Q frowned and glanced back. "Sir?"
"Mrs Mansfield included a note, in your file" Mallory explained, "I got the impression from it that you… masking your dynamic was only a temporary situation?"
"Yes sir. I mean, if that's…?"
"Perfectly alright with me, Q" he reassured, giving a small smile, "But I'm not naive enough to believe that everyone will be just as accepting. So, if you run into any problems… let me know".
Holy shit.
The Head of MI-fucking-6 just offered to make bigoted knotheads completely disappear.
Q fought back a somewhat hysterical laugh.
"Yes sir. Thank you, sir".
"No, Q, thank you. Mansfield was right, it is about damn time that things changed around here… and it takes a far braver man than I to be the first to do so".