Valley of Shadows
Once Q knew that Eve was on board, he told his minions to talk to her directly. It wouldn't be odd, as such, for him and Eve to spend more time together considering that they were friends and everyone knew that they had weekly lunches, but Q didn't want to take any risks. The double-0s were incredibly intelligent, after all, no matter how dumb they made themselves appear. Honestly, he was surprised at how many people fell for the whole brainless-brawn persona that they had going on, especially considering if they weren't intelligent, then they'd have been killed long ago given their line of work. He would happily place their IQ levels somewhere between one-thirty and one-sixty. Anything higher than that, and they likely wouldn't continue working as a double-0, but anything lower, and they'd be dead.
Anyway.
The grid table on the whiteboard was half-filled in already, although some of his minions were at least smart enough to hold back their ideas for now until they saw how the others did. And after coming up with an excuse to get R out of the lab for a few hours, Q had called in Eve and explained the situation to the rest of TSS. Their ideas would stay on the subtlety hidden whiteboard to keep a record of who said what, while Eve would casually swing in from time to time and make a quick note of what they'd said. One sticky note in Q's file later - and a quick dash to the storage vault - and their trap was set.
Q distantly wondered just how long it'd take 002 and 009 to catch onto the trick, but given that most brilliantly intelligent people were also quite stupid, he had high hopes that at least a handful of his minions would get their ridiculous stories in before the agents realised.
And so, the game was on.
Which hopefully explained just why the hell 002 was currently darkening his office doorstep at two in the morning.
Q sighed as the shadow of the slight man shifted ever-so-slightly. For someone as skilled at hiding in plain sight as Charles Blair was, he really was forgetting the most basic rule of stalking - Light was a Thing.
The man's shadow moved again and Q finally decided enough was enough. He was only here so late because he had a ton of work to catch up on, since apparently, declaring a prank war on two unsuspecting double-0s was a lot more time-consuming than anyone had initially realised. But by now, he was exhausted and grumpy and in dire need of caffeine. So.
"If you're planning on skulking about all night, 002, then the least you could do is make yourself useful" he called out, "Make me a cup of earl grey, would you? A splash of milk and two sugars, please".
The shadow froze, remaining unnaturally still for one long moment, and Q briefly wondered if he'd pushed it too far this time, before suddenly, the shade was gone.
Shrugging, he returned to his work. Either the alpha was, in fact, making him some tea, or else his ego was fragile enough to be wounded by a particularly observant omega. According to Saif, 002 was a difficult man to get a read on, given his quiet unassuming nature, but Q was betting on the fact that if the other double-0s had no issue with an omegian Quartermaster, then 002 wouldn't either.
Or so he hoped.
Q blinked as his favourite scrabble mug was suddenly placed directly in front of him. Apparently, not only was 002 capable of blending in silently, he could also move silently. As well as make a cup of earl grey insanely fast. Q could already see the numerous ways that he was going to exploit that particular little fact.
Trailing his gaze along a lean arm, a strong shoulder, and an oddly long neck, he finally got his first proper look at the man.
Tall, lean, and rather plain, he could see immediately how nobody ever took any notice of the alpha. He had that awkward lankiness about him that no doubt made his targets vastly underestimate him, and his boyish face placed him anywhere between nineteen and thirty-nine. His scent wasn't very strong either, and if Q hadn't already known that he was an alpha, he would've sworn that the man was simply a beta. It was no wonder that his disguises were so good - the man could quite literally realistically impersonate half of Britain.
"Thank you" he belatedly replied, pulling the cup closer to him.
The scent of bergamot and too-much-sugar reached him immediately, but there was an underlying aura of something else, something… sharp.
Q immediately gave the man a suspicious look. "Did you poison this, 002?"
"No sir" he replied with a straight face, his voice level and forgettable.
The Quartermaster raised a solitary eyebrow. "Is that what you'd say even if you had poisoned it?"
"... Yes sir".
Q sighed but took a sip anyway, and immediately groaned in delight. It was- It was sweet. It was sweet and intoxicating and far too delicious to be laced with cyanide.
"This is heavenly! What did you do to it?!"
002 gave a genuine smile, his entire face lighting up, and suddenly, there was nothing forgettable about him.
"Two drops of vanilla extract".
"Vanilla?" Q exclaimed, clutching the cup protectively close, "... I didn't even know we had vanilla".
Looking back up, he gave the man an awed, almost devout look.
"Mr Blair? You're hired".
"As your professional tea maker?"
"Yes. Exactly! You don't have to be a double-0, there are already eight of them, that's more than enough. You can be my professional tea maker and we can negotiate a salary, maybe even throw in some prototype weapons because I know how much you agents love exploding things. Deal?"
"Hard pass, Quartermaster" he replied teasingly, "I quite like being a double-0".
"But- But- But think of the explosions!"
"I see plenty of those out in the field. And anyway, you'd get bored of me".
"Never!" Q swore vehemently, "You can be a kept alpha, a- a- a house husband! Always on call to make me the best tea that I have ever tasted in my entire life!"
002 rocked back and forth on his heels, looking thoroughly amused.
"Or, and hear me out, I could continue being a double-0, and just make you tea for free whenever I'm in England".
Q thought hard, weighing up the pros and cons, before finally sighing and giving the man his most effective pout.
"But what about when you're not in England? I'll suffer! I'll suffer, Mr Blair, and- and die of dehydration and it will be all your fault!"
"I'm sure you'll adjust... And it's Charlie".
Q, now staring down at the wonderful warm richness in hands, blinked and looked back up.
"It's what?"
"Charlie" 002 replied, "Only my mother calls me Charles, and if I'm going to be your unofficial tea maker, then you should probably use my first name… She's Russian, by the way".
The Quartermaster frowned, now beyond confused.
"Oh… kay?"
"Grew up in Moscow, but moved to London for university, where she met my father and decided to settle down. I grew up speaking two languages".
"... Good for you?" Q tried again, wondering just why the hell the man was telling him about his parents.
Charlies stared back at him, his gaze strangely intense.
"Ты ведь тоже говоришь по-русски, не так ли?"
And- oh.
Q had been so busy trying to catch up on work these last few days that he had completely forgotten to check the whiteboard to see which fake story Eve was going with first. But this - this right here - was clearly 002's not-so-subtle attempt at testing him on it.
The omega looked at him blankly.
After a moment, Charlie tried again.
"Твоя мать тоже не русская?"
Q frowned. "Are you alright, 002? You appear to have descended into speaking gibberish. You didn't receive a concussion on your way back from Berlin, did you?"
The man frowned, clearly confused. "What? No! I was- You- You were- are-"
He peered up at him innocently. "You know, you really should get checked out by medical, you're starting to stutter now, too".
Charlies stared at him for another moment before huffing loudly, spinning on his heel, and striding from the room.
Q grinned at his retreating figure. "Thanks for the tea!"
Ten minutes later, having thoroughly dragged out the drinking of the best thing that he had ever tasted ever, Q made his way out of his office and downstairs to the main branch area.
Walking over to the whiteboard in the corner of the room, he double-checked that he was alone before flipping it over and scanning through the messily scrawled ideas of his minions and-
There.
About halfway down the board, Silvia had written "The son of a Russian double-agent who was killed in action when Q was still a child. Boothroyd was his babysitter while his mother was away on missions, and he managed to convince M to keep him. M agreed, and together, they raised Q to be the next Quartermaster so that he could seek revenge on those who had killed his mother".
Which certainly explained why Charlie had asked him if he spoke Russian of all things.
Q sighed and picked up the marker, drawing a large "X" through Silvia's fake story before making a quick note next to it.
"A+ for effort, but not remotely sad enough to upset a double-0. And just for the record, Russian isn't the only language that I speak".
His minions were really going to have to try harder if they wanted to reduce Charlie to tears. Q just hoped that when all of this was over, the man would still continue to make tea for him.
The highlight of the week came two days later when Q got a notification on his laptop. That, in itself, wasn't unusual, but he had to stare at the message for an entire three minutes before he suddenly realised what it was that he was looking at.
Someone had just turned on their transmitter.
Jerking forwards and almost knocking over his sadly-not-002-made cup of tea, he clicked on the notification box and watched as a satellite image popped up in front of him, along with a dialing code. Reaching for his headset, he placed it on just as the target zoomed in on what appeared to be some sort of housing estate. The GPS coordinates read 44°39'23.3"N 63°37'14.5"W.
Canada, if he was not mistaken.
Which could only mean-
"Radio check".
Q grinned.
"Read you loud and clear, 001. And let me tell you, it is an honour".
There was a brief pause, a surprised laugh, and then-
"The honour is all mine, based on what I've heard Quartermaster. An omegian Head of Department? Now that's gotta be a new record".
"As is making psych cry in your very first evaluation" he countered, "You're not the only one who's done your homework, agent".
"My, oh, my, you really are as snarky as they say, aren't you, Q? May I call you Q?"
"May I call you Alexis?"
"Oh, please, Alex is fine. And don't you dare start with the whole "Ms Palladino" bullshit. I get enough of that as it is from the higher-ups".
"Alex it is". He could feel his grin widening and very quickly realised that 003 and 005 now had competition for his favourite double-0. "So what can I do for you, Alex?"
"How much do you know about my current op?"
"Only what's in your file" he admitted, "Which isn't much, unfortunately, considering that MI6 got blown to hell only a few days after you left. You're in Nova Scotia, right? Keeping watch on an up-and-coming terrorist group? One of the men in charge has a distant connection to the Clerkenwell crime syndicate here in London, and M wanted to make sure that it stayed distant".
She hummed. "You really have done your homework, haven't you? But yeah, more or less. CSIS can clean up their own messes usually, but the last thing we need is a British terrorist group making life difficult for them. I was sent in undercover to find out just how British they were".
"And given your use of the past tense, is it safe to assume that they are no longer a threat?"
There was another laugh, more of a bark this time, sudden and amused.
"Trust me, Q, they are no longer anything".
The implication hovered in the air between them. Q purposefully refused to let himself linger on it.
"You need a lift, then?"
"Please" Alexis agreed, "I would have asked CSIS but… well, there may or may not have been quite a lot of property damage by the time I was through with the mission, so we're not on very good terms right now".
"I'll send them a gift basket" he replied dryly, already searching for a flight, "How long do you need to tie up any loose ends?"
"Oh honey, I don't leave any loose ends".
He paused and waited. After a brief moment of silence, a sigh echoed down the line.
"... Maybe a week?"
"I'll book you in for the morning flight on the 16th" Q finished, smirking, "I trust that you still have your passport?"
"I mean… I have one of them?"
This time, it was the omega who sighed. "Keep this transmitter turned on and I'll have someone drop in with a real passport".
"You're the best, Q!"
"I know" he replied deadpan, "So do me a favour, will you? Bring me back some Westholme tea. It's been quite some time since I was in Canada, and they refuse to deliver to the United Kingdom".
"Westholme tea, wilco! 001 over and out".
After the confusing disaster that was 002 trying to trick him into speaking Russian, Q decided to be more… proactive when it came to the story-of-the-week that Eve was using to goad the double-0s. Both Charlie and Edie regularly dropped by his office to ask him seemingly random things that he always either avoided, or just gave vague noncommittal responses to. Honestly, his minions were rather terrible at trying to upset the elite alphas, but then again, given what the double-0s did for a living, their emotions were bound to be wired more than a bit differently.
Charlie continued to speak Russian to him at random points in their conversations, to the extent that even other double-0s were starting to give him strange looks for it. Apparently, the man didn't want to lose the strange connection they had by both apparently having Russian mothers.
Q didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Either way, it meant that he was slowly but surely getting used to 002 and 009 hovering around him incessantly, as well as M's brief and to-the-point texts saying "They've broken in again". Eve really was doing wonders when it came to keeping his supposed file updated, and the double-0s kept falling for it - hook, line, and sinker.
He could tell that they were starting to get frustrated, however, and now he regularly found his minions being followed or questioned by one and/or both of the agents. They all stuck to their stories, which was admittedly rather impressive given how terrified they were of the alphas, despite some of Q's minions being alpha's themselves, and 002 and 008 were left unsatisfied and more curious than ever. They'd even brought 005 into the entire disaster that was the Quartermaster's fake personnel file, and Q's appraisal of the man dramatically lowered, leaving Duncan and Alex tying for first place as his number-one favourite double-0.
The Quartermaster had half-expected it, however, given Saif's laidback and easygoing attitude. It was no wonder that he'd been so easily drawn into the inquisition of 002 and 009.
But what Q hadn't expected, was for them to make it physical.