Night Passage
He wasn't wearing his scent blocker. Q wasn't wearing his scent blocker. He always applied it straight after going for a shower, but right now he didn't have a bottle with him, hadn't even thought about it, and if the water and soap weren't enough to wash away the little amount he'd applied this morning, then being covered in blood, sweat, and ash over the last twenty-four hours sure as fuck was. And without anything masking his scent…
He currently smelled like an omega.
003 suddenly stood and took a step forward and Q flinched and automatically took a step back. The man actually seemed startled by his response, and he slowly raised both hands and sat back down. It didn't slow the Quartermaster's racing heart one bit.
"Are you… You're a fucking omega".
The game was up.
"... Yes". He swallowed thickly, "I am".
The game was up and now a double-0 knew he was an omega which meant that every other double-0 would know he was an omega and-
Duncan frowned and tilted his head to the side as he stared at him, not all that unlike a very confused puppy, which was most certainly not a phrase Q thought he'd ever be applying to a vicious and violent double-0.
"But… But you weren't? Before. You were…"
"A beta?" he finished, "Yeah. I, uh… I was wearing a scent blocker".
"Do you… wear those often?"
In other words, was he hiding his dynamic from the entirety of MI6?
"Yeah" Q admitted, "M- uh, I mean, the previous M, she hired me after Boothroyd was… killed in the explosion. We both agreed that an omegian Quartermaster would be seen as a weakness, and… well, we couldn't exactly afford any more of those at the time".
"And Mallory?"
"He knows. So does Bill, uh, Tanner, Bill Tanner, Chief of Staff. And R knows, too, as well as most of my branch".
"007? Edie?"
"No". Q shook his head, wondering just what the hell Bond had done to still be "007" while Edie was Edie. "None of the double-0s know, or any of the regular agents, for that matter… Not yet, at least".
"Do you fucking plan on telling them?"
"When my scent blocker runs out. I'm, uh… I'm down to the last bottle now. It just… felt like a bad idea to suddenly stop wearing it in the middle of a red alert".
Duncan slowly nodded, eyes still focused on Q but thoughts clearly a mile away. The Quartermaster stayed exactly where he was, huge towel wrapped around his shoulders and reaching his knees, shivering.
He'd been beyond stupid, agreeing to come here. Honestly, even if he had been a beta, deciding to follow the most violent double-0 in MI6 down a dark corridor into a camera-less room still wouldn't have been a good idea. Duncan could kill him with one hand, just like that, and Q was helpless to stop him. No one would know what had happened, no one would even suspect because 003 was still meant to be in Moscow and Q had slinked off without telling Bill or Eve or even M where he was going and it wasn't as if the double-0 didn't know how to dispose of bodies or erase security tapes, and really, if Q had any sense at all he'd just turn and run right now, nakedness and injuries be damned because quite frankly he'd rather streak through London than end up in the hands of another furious alpha because he'd already done that and, spoiler alert, it fucking sucked, but if that was all that was waiting for him then-
"Q".
He flinched back, hard, and almost slipped on the wet tiles. A strong arm suddenly wrapped around his waist and his brain screeched to a halt because no no no no this wasn't happening this couldn't be happening this was-
Warm?
"Just breathe, Q, you're okay, you're safe, I'm not going to fucking hurt you".
His head was currently pressed against Duncan's neck, the alpha's arms wrapped firmly around his lower back and shoulders, mindful of the damp stitches.
"Hey, Quartermaster, you need to fucking breathe, alright? Try to copy me".
He felt the warm strong sturdy chest move in and out and desperately tried to focus and remember how to do that because he needed to, didn't he? He had to- to- he had to copy him so he wouldn't be mad and- no- no it wasn't- that wasn't- he had to copy him to breathe, not so he wouldn't be mad because- because he won't be mad, right? He had no reason to be mad except that Q wasn't copying him and he was meant to be copying him to-
"Shit… Look, I'm fucking sorry about this" a voice murmured near his ear, before suddenly, "Breathe, Q".
And just like that, the bubble burst, and the omega gasped out a ragged breath, his lungs burning, his eyes burning, the stitches across his shoulders and the wounds in his arm burning and-
"That's it, good job, now let it out, slowly".
He did as told, clenching his eyes shut, tight, head burying deeper into the warm safe scent of the alpha surrounding him, arms trapped between them, still clutching the towel.
His next exhale sounded like a sob.
"Shhh, hush, now, you're alright, you're safe" Duncan whispered, pulling him even closer, "I'm sorry I had to fucking command you, Q, I just couldn't think of any other way to make you breathe. You need to calm down, alright? I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, but you need to start breathing more slowly before you pass the fuck out".
The omega did as told, the order still echoing in his head as he automatically tried to fight it while simultaneously knowing that he had to obey it. Breathe. Breathe. He could do that. He'd been doing it all his life, right? He could- He could do this and then the alpha would be happy and he wouldn't get hurt and he'd be happy and- breathe. He just had to breathe.
"That's it" 003 said quietly, "Good job, Q, you're doing fucking great, just another few minutes of slow breaths, alright?"
He felt his heart rate finally start to slow as hyperventilation gave way to still ragged but less frantic breathing. He was okay, he was safe, he was fine, he was-
Currently clinging to one of the most dangerous alphas on the planet.
"I doubt this is in your job description, huh?"
His voice was shaky, cracked, but thankfully the man didn't mention it.
"Well, you never know. Technically, my entire fucking job description is just to do whatever's necessary to achieve the goal".
"The goal in this case being calming a distress omega?"
"Exactly. I doubt it's escaped your fucking notice, Q, but we've gone through quite a fucking lot of executives these last few weeks. I'd argue that my goal is to prevent that from happening again, even if "any means necessary" involves fucking hugs".
Q couldn't help but smile, face still buried in the alpha's neck, spicy pheromones mixed with the faintest hint of alcohol to create an oddly relaxing scent.
"You know, you're surprisingly fucking tough for someone so scrawny".
He huffed a somewhat broken laugh.
"And you're surprisingly gentle for someone so tough".
Duncan briefly tensed up and Q froze as he wondered if he'd done something wrong. After a moment, the double-0 slowly pulled back, a strangely blank look on his face. He gently hold of Q's left hand and pulled him back towards the bench, where the Quartermaster practically collapsed, emotionally and mentally drained from the brief panic he'd just experienced. The agent kept their hands intertwined, the physical contact grounding Q more than he'd like to admit, but Duncan still wouldn't meet his gaze.
"... My sister was an omega".
Past tense.
"I'm sorry".
He merely shook his head.
"What happened happened… And it was a long fucking time ago".
Q cautiously, shyly, shuffled closer, knowing full well that close proximity between an alpha and omega helped settle the former as much as it did the latter.
"That doesn't make it any easier".
"No" Duncan admitted, "But time does make it a bit less fucking difficult".
The Quartermaster didn't want to ask what happened - well, no, actually, he did, but he knew that he shouldn't and the last thing he wanted to do was cause more grief for the paradoxical agent. After another few moments of silence, however, 003 spoke up himself.
"She was kidnapped. Omega sex traffickers. At the time, I was just a regular agent, and I worked more at my fucking desk than anywhere else, but I used every damn resource I could get my hands on to try and find her… and I did, eventually… I was just too fucking late".
Q held his breath, almost too scared to move in case Duncan snapped out of it.
"So I buried her, and then I went back for the bastards who did it. Burned the entire fucking ring to the ground… When M found out, she was fucking furious" he finished, a faint smile on his lips, "And then she offered me a number".
"A double-0 number" Q realised, and the alpha nodded. "003. Apparently, my predecessor had gotten himself shot one too many times, so there was an opening. Without my sister, I became the equivalent of a fucking orphan. No family, no friends, and-"
"-and orphans make the best recruits" Q finished, recalling the previous previous M's own words to him all those years ago.
"... Yeah" Duncan said quietly, staring down at their still clutching hands, "Something like that".
"Come on" he said suddenly, straightening up, "Turn around and let me bandage those fucking stitches".
Q swallowed thickly and hesitated. He knew that 003 wouldn't hurt him, now more than ever, but he hadn't survived this long by not being cautious, and all it would take was one tiny slip-up and-
"I can smell your fucking distress from here, Q".
He flinched and then gave a somewhat hysterical laugh.
"Well, forgive me for being a little cautious about turning my back to the agent with the highest body count in Britain!"
There was a pause.
"I thought 007 had the highest kill count?"
"No, Mr Fortier, 007 has the highest confirmed kill count. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending that you don't have a few extra skeletons in your closet".
Duncan at least had the decency to look some bit contrite.
"… I mean, they're not actually in my fucking closet".
Q sighed but finally turned around anyway.
"You know, 005 was right to warn me about you. Bloody maniacs, the lot of you!"
"Takes one to know one, Quartermaster" he replied, picking back up the roll of bandages, "And from what I've seen so far? I doubt that anyone here is more fucking crazy than you".
Half an hour later, Q was back in the underground garage of TSS, a clean suit covering the bandages that littered his shoulders and arm, one or two adhesive strips holding the worst of the cuts on his face together. Outside, the early morning light was starting to cast shadows across the concrete floor, and the steam from his fourth cup of tea was slowly twirling in the air.
He'd been right in his assessment that there was a fuck ton of post-disaster paperwork to get through, and the fact that he was not only the head of a department but also placed a crucial role in stopping Nine Eyes, meant that he had more forms to fill out than everyone else. Except, perhaps, M. He'd downed four Paracetemol when he'd returned to his desk in the workshop, and although they were definitely taking the edge off, his entire body still just ached. Added to that, was the mother of all headaches, a rather inconvenient side effect of his panic attack, as well as general exhaustion and jitteriness and a bone-deep soreness in his chest.
His mental state wasn't that great either, after having been commanded by 003 when the man was trying to get him to breathe. It was an attribute unique to alpha's, although it was usually limited to the strongest of the lot - which, of course, meant that every bloody double-0 was capable of using it. Q wasn't even sure how it worked, but he knew that it wasn't fun. A particular tone of voice that made him lose his freewill was never going to be fun, and despite the fact he'd been exposed to it often enough to be able to shake off the effects a hell of a lot quicker than other omegas, he still felt a brief stab of panic whenever an alpha put the compulsion into their voice. Using it outside of life-or-death situations was considered one of the worst crimes an alpha could commit, and abusing that power automatically gave them a life sentence in prison. The problem was, of course, proving it. And while Q understood why, exactly, Duncan had resorted to compelling him and then apologised before and after, the Quartermaster had still let him know that if he ever tried to use that tone of voice on him again without his explicit permission, then he would castrate him with a blunt letter opener.
003 had rather quickly agreed.
Q suddenly looked up as he heard the lift start to operate. Just who on earth was using it at this time of the morning? The rest of TSS wouldn't show up for another two hours yet, and Duncan had left not long after stitching him up to "tie up a few loose ends" - whatever that meant.
The doors slowly slid open, revealing a familiar suit and an even more familiar face beyond them.
"Bond?"
He was never so grateful that he kept a spare scent blocker in his desk for emergencies.
"What are you doing here?"
The man smirked, coming to a stop a few feet away from his desk.
"Good morning, Q".
The Quartermaster stiffly stood up, stitches pulling tightly and uncomfortably, before making his way around the table and stepping closer to the older man.
"I thought you'd gone".
"I have" 007 replied, hands in his pockets, "There's just one thing I need".
Of course there was.
Two months after Q was appointed Quartermaster, the red alert was lifted from MI6. It ended with him preventing Nine Eyes from going online, M inadvertently killing the bad guy, and James bloody Bond disappearing into the sunset with a cute little beta and his custom-made DB5.
Which, you know, fucking sucked.
But finally, finally, the rot was killed from within and MI6 could breathe again. It was time to recuperate and heal and definitely not relax because it seemed that the entirety of MI6 was just collectively incapable of doing that, but it was the first time since starting in his new position that Q could actually rest.
He knew he had a challenge ahead of him - now that the danger had officially passed, he had no excuse to continue wearing his scent blockers - but he also knew that he thrived on solving problems, and this would be no different. He could settle down, ease into his role, and focus on improving TSS to the best possible version that it could be.
Q could finally be himself. Q, Quartermaster, Omega - he felt like he could take on the entire world…
The problem was, of course, that nine double-0's were a hell of a lot more trouble.