Killing Time
Almost two months to the day after Q had been appointed Quartermaster, things were finally starting to calm down.
Both 007 and 009 lurked around HQ during working hours, and did god knows what else during their time off. M had thankfully put a temporary pause on all active-duty agents, preferring them to stay close to home until he was confident the threat had passed. Those agents who were currently in the middle of missions, however, continued as normal, meaning that the TSS branch was as overrun as ever.
Since Edie's return, only one other double-0 had appeared out of the woodworks - a rather easy-going 005. Saif Fitzroy was probably the only agent they had that could match Bond's cavalier attitude, although his recklessness still managed to put even 007 to shame. It was the first time that Q understood what R had meant when she'd said the double-0s treated life like a game. Saif was a curious mix of opposing traits; a sociable entertainer from his Iranian mother but unflappable and emotionally distant from his English father. It resulted in a rather laid-back charmer who could talk for hours without really saying anything at all, and Saif simply saw Q as another person for him to win over, rather than a new superior who needed to be tested.
The Quartermaster was both thankful and exasperated with the man's approach.
005 was also more loose-lipped than 009 about his compatriots, much to Q's relief, and from what he could gather, 002 was still in Berlin happily pretending to be a local, whereas 003 - apparently the most aggressive of the bunch - was after making his way from Serbia to Moscow. Saif stated rather plainly that Q would need to keep an eye on him, because as brilliant an agent the man was, he was also easily the most hot-headed out of all the double-0s, and he wasn't that big a fan of change.
A new Quartermaster, a new M, and a new base of operations was certainly not going to leave the man in a good mood.
Asides from them, 001 was still in Canada keeping an eye on an up-and-coming terrorist group, 004 was currently in Gibraltar temporarily on loan to MI5, 006 was in Havana trying to prevent the latest super villain from stealing millions of pounds from the Bank of England, and 008 was somewhere in Kurdistan at the heart of the Syrian civil war.
All in all, Q was more than grateful to deal with each double-0 individually as they popped up, rather than facing the pack of predators together. He knew he'd have to win at least half of them over before he stopped wearing scent blockers, but he was already down to his last two bottles and knew that he only had enough to finish out the month.
It almost felt like a tribute to the late-M, him continuing to act as a beta. The threat might have passed, but MI6 was still rebuilding itself, slowly but surely, and to show any "weakness" right now would damage that progress, perhaps even irreparably. Q knew that he could take on an outside enemy any day, but an omegian Quartermaster would automatically be seen as a vulnerable point, and it wasn't just himself that he had to think of. He wasn't going to put his pride over the safety - and the lives - of his minions. Not after Silva. He had learned that lesson the hard way.
In the meantime, he focused on ensuring equality throughout his admittedly small department. He and R had already gone through the list of CVs and cover letters they'd received to fill in the spaces left in TSS, and they'd vetted the select few that they had both agreed on. In total, they now had just over thirty candidates to interview, which was horrifyingly daunting, not in the least because despite being Head of a department, Q really wasn't that much of a people person, and he dreaded having to sit in an interview room for an hour, asking question after question to strangers who were undoubtedly lying to him just to be considered.
But then again.
He hadn't been lying to M when he said he'd come up with a few ideas about how to make the interview process more interesting, as it were. He was adamant to make TSS a safe space for people of all gender, race, and dynamics, and the first step in that, was hiring good people. The only regrettable part of the plan was that word of his own dynamic would probably start to get out before the week was up, but it was a small price to pay to ensure that TSS didn't turn into a bunch of condescending bigots like the accounting department was.
Explaining his plan to R also had the tiny little miniscule side effect of admitting that he was an omega, but the woman had simply scoffed, waved him off, and said that she'd figured that out years ago and was just waiting for him to tell her himself.
Q really didn't deserve R.
And so, with the stage set, the interview process began.
Candidate number one yawned as he stepped through the door, but Q didn't take offence. It was ungodly early, after all, but it was a rather irritating necessity of his plan. He remained in his seat at the back of the room, a tray on the small table next to him piled high with tea and biscuits. The man glanced over at him, blinked, and then smiled.
Q smiled back, bare neck on show and no scent blockers in sight.
After all, what better way was there to test someone's open-mindedness than by putting an unmated omega right in front of them?
Much to the Quartermaster's delight, the man headed straight for him and held out a hand.
"Hello. I'm Halim. Halim Yildiz".
"Q" he replied, surprised and pleased when he caught the tell-tale scent of alpha.
"Q?" Halim repeated, before glancing over his shoulder as R joined them, So, uh… You guys are pretty big on letters, huh?"
He fought back a smirk.
"Yeah, you could say that. Tea?"
"Tea?" He frowned and turned back, only then noticing the set next to him, "Oh! Uh, yeah. I mean yes, yes please! But only if you're having some?"
From behind them, R laughed.
"The first thing you should know about TSS, Mr Yildiz, is that Q here will never turn down a cup of tea".
"Ah! A man after my own heart" Halim replied, grinning, and Q very quickly decided that if every interview went as smoothly as this, then TSS would be filled by the end of the day.
Which is exactly why every other interview that morning was an absolute disaster.
The first reason Q had scheduled the interviews so early was because he was a busy man and had an entire branch to run as well as a handful of double-0s to watch out for. The second reason was quite simply to check their punctuality, since working in TSS, and especially in Support Ops, wasn't exactly a regular nine-to-five type job. And the third reason he'd chosen to interview their candidates that early, was because it allowed him to get through four or five people every day before he applied a scent blocker.
Some potential employees, like Halim, took it all in their stride. An omega sitting in on an interview? No problem! An omega asking them questions about their experience directly? Slightly odd, perhaps, but again, nothing to complain about. And that exact same omega standing up at the end of the interview and revealing himself to be the Quartermaster of MI6? Mind blown, but still not an issue.
And yes, Q really did live for that final part.
The problem was, of course, not everyone was as tolerant or accepting of omegas in positions of power as Halim had been. Sitting in the back of the room with a tea tray beside him was practically inviting omegian stereotypes by allowing candidates to draw their own conclusions, and the majority of candidates did, in fact, disappoint.
Some interviewees ignored him, others demanded that he served them tea, and only a very select few treated him with the same respect that they gave blatantly-an-alpha R.
Those were the ones who got hired.
By himself, personally, of course, as he stood up at the end of each interview to tell the candidates just who, exactly, he was. The bigoted fools either stared in disbelief or immediately began apologising and were shown to the door. The respectful hires were just as shocked but took it all in their stride.
R found the whole thing hilarious.
M pretended he knew nothing at all about it.
But by the end of the week, Q was drained, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. They hadn't gotten the TSS branch back up to its optimal numbers yet, but at least they now had enough staff to maintain a day and night crew. It was a rather eclectic mix of omegas, betas, and alphas, but everyone worked in harmony and Q regularly found himself simply staring out of the glass wall in his office, watching his minions hustle and bustle around below.
They still had the occasional spiff here and there, of course, but none were serious enough to require his or R's intervention, and he supposed that that was the best he could ask for really.
And with the staff problem of TSS solved, he could turn his attention elsewhere.
Namely, to James bloody Bond.
Somehow, somewhere, somewhy, in the single week that Q had stopped keeping track of the man's movements, 007 had disappeared to Mexico city, blown up a few buildings, and stolen a helicopter.
M, rather understandably, was not pleased.
Bill had given Q the heads-up once Bond was back in London, and the Quartermaster's smartblood nanotechnology project was given the green light. Q wasn't too proud to admit that he'd taken at least a little bit of sadistic pleasure in stabbing the man with a needle, because honestly, how bloody difficult was it not to cause an international incident?!
Getting a brief email from M reassigning the Aston Martin to 009 was just a cherry on top of an already delicious cake. The fact that Edie brought him back a tacky but admittedly cute souvenir and an expensive box of organic pu'er tea from her mission on the mainland, was like eating that cherry and then finding another, second cherry underneath.
Still though.
He wasn't cruel enough to release 007 into the field without any protection.
"But you can have this".
Bond took the watch and stared at it for a moment.
"Does it do anything?"
"It tells the time" he replied dryly, "Might help with your punctuality issues".
"M's idea?"
"Precisely".
They turned and started walking back through the garage workshop.
"Oh, and one word of warning. The alarm is rather loud" Q finished, "If you know what I mean".
Bond glanced down at the watch again.
"I think I do".
"Q?"
"Yes?"
"Well, now you know exactly where I am, all the time… Will you do something for me?"
The Quartermaster felt his heart rate increase and he very purposefully did not look at the charming alpha next to him.
"What did you have in mind, exactly?"
"Make me disappear".
Q froze, before sending a quick look to Bill, who was thankfully otherwise occupied asking two of his minions about the project that they were working on. Swallowing thickly, he turned back to Bond.
"Uh, need I remind you that I answer directly to M? I also have a mortgage. And two cats to feed".
"Oh, well then, I suggest you trust me, pup. For the sake of the cats".
And Q… paused.
He didn't know whether it was because the man had stepped increasingly closer throughout their conversation and was now a mere foot away, hints of spice and gunpowder enveloping him with their warmth, or if it was because the alpha had used that ridiculous nickname that caused his pulse to race and his breathing to stutter. Or maybe it was just because of the thinly veiled threat aimed at Yana and Paco, but Q… Q wanted to help him.
He glanced over at Bill once more, and the beta smiled back at him, none the wiser. Clearing his throat, he quickly straightened up and stepped around the desk to put a solid barrier between him and this ridiculously good-looking maniac.
"Well, it's lovely to see you, 007, just lovely".
Blue eyes burned into his and he immediately looked away.
"Now, uh, I meant to tell you. The smartblood programme is obviously still in its developmental phase, so you may experience the odd… block in coverage during the first twenty-four hours-"
He risked a look at the stoic man in front of him.
"-forty-eight hours, after administration".
Bond smiled.
"But after that, it should work perfectly" Q finished, palms sweaty and voice uneven.
007 continued to smile.
"I'll send you a postcard" he whispered, and Q forced a smile. "Please don't".
Gods, what the hell was he thinking?!
James bloody Bond asked him to disappear and Q let him. He even got on a fucking plane for him, though that was less about a fear of heights like Eve thought it was, and more to do with a fear of being trapped in a confined space with a dozen unknown alphas.
Anyway.
Austria was a rollercoaster of fear, nerves, and a burning in his lower stomach that he refused to identify.
"Look, I'm sorry 007, but times up. My whole career is on the line here. Either you come back in and do this through the proper channels, or I go directly to M".
"Do one more thing for me. Then you're out". Bond handed him a ring, still warm from his body heat. "Find out what you can from this".
Piercing blue eyes pinned him in place, the man's rugged features calm yet surprisingly serious, and breathing in the oh-so-familiar scent made Q realise just how far he'd fallen.
"I really really hate you right now".
Bond smiled, and that alone made it all feel worth it.
"Thank you, Q".
He was, admittedly, somewhat abrupt when 007 showed up at his door later than evening with a pretty blonde beta in tow. Understandably, after spending three hours on a plane in terror, being gently forced into joining Bond's mad goose chase, and then being tracked and almost caught by two terrifying alphas on the ski lift, Q was in what R would call "no mood".
Being ordered back to London wasn't ideal either, but once Bond and Swann returned a few days later with the explanation that they'd all be looking for, Q was guiltily glad that he hadn't stuck with the pair. High levels of stress weren't good for any omega, and despite the fact that Q wasn't just any omega and had lived through more than enough stress in his time, getting shot at on a regular basis would have just about been a step too far.
Which is why he's beyond pissed when the thugs from Nine Eyes shoot at them as they follow 007 and M to stop C from taking control of the new global surveillance system. Hacking into one of the most complicated computer systems in the world in the backseat of an SUV wasn't exactly fun, but when they turned the corner only to find Bond being manhandled into the back of an awaiting van, Q found out just how un-fun things could be.
"They've seen us! Reverse!" Eve yelled, as Bill quickly shifted gears, "Reverse!"
He backed out of the alleyway just as the men started shooting at them. Spinning the SUV around, Bill floored it, bullets ricocheting off of the front windscreen and something about that sound made Q recall a rather important piece of information, just as he felt a searing white-hot flash of pain across his shoulders.
The front windscreen was bulletproof, of course.
But the side windows weren't.
Sharp pieces of glass shattered from impact and he automatically reached up to protect his glasses, feeling tiny little shards bite into his forehead, cheek, neck, everywhere, even as the far bloodier wound across his upper back ached.
From the front seat, Eve's phone rang.
"Moneypenny".
Q focused on breathing slowly and deeply.
"Yes sir".
He couldn't afford to pass out now, he had a job to do.
"Of course sir".
Just a few more hours and they would be safe.
"We're on our way".
Rattling off an address to Bill, the SUV swerved to change direction, and Q quickly fought back the urge to scream as his arm hit off the bullet-ridden door. Coding. Focus on the coding. T-minus ten minutes until Spectre got control. He couldn't let that happen.
They pulled in just outside a subway station, and M ran towards them, flinging open the door next to Q and jumping in.
"Go!"
Just another few hours.
He could do this.
He had to.