Scaredy Cat
The day that Duncan went offline, Q used every single resource he had to try and track him down, spending fourteen hours straight holed up in his office until Alexis eventually managed to drag him back home. The first day after he vanished, M ordered the Quartermaster to let his minions handle the search and retrieval of the wayward agent so that he could focus on Ouromov's files instead. The second day after 003 disappeared, Q actually obeyed his boss's orders and gave very strict and very detailed instructions to Halim, Silvia, and Daniel to inform him the very second they thought they had something.
Legally, no civilian could be declared dead until they had been missing for seven years or more, but with soldiers, as always, it was a little different. The general consensus was that a soldier must be officially missing in action for at least one year before words like KIA or BNR could be thrown around. For intelligence agents - especially the double-0s - that time frame was even shorter.
They had one week to find him, or 003 would be legally declared dead.
Q refused to let himself dwell on that.
The other double-0s refused to let themselves even consider the notion.
Three days after Duncan went off comms, Q continued to try and track him down in secret, while pretending to give Ouromov's files a lot more consideration than he was capable of giving. Admittedly, he could see exactly where M was coming from. Although losing 003 would be a blow that he wasn't quite sure he could handle, he also knew that if the ex-KGB general managed to distribute the hormone drug he'd created, then the death toll would easily be in the thousands.
The needs of the many over the needs of the few, and all that.
So he ran his best software and hacked into more than one illegally accessed satellite to search for his agent in the background, while he forced himself to give equal attention to the list of previous warehouses that Ouromov had owned.
And why was it always a warehouse anyway? Why couldn't the bad guys simply work out of a condo, or even a duplex? Why was it always creepy abandoned places with these guys?!
When he brought up this point to Edie, she simply snorted and said she'd once had a mission take place in a deserted mental asylum in Transylvania.
He'd checked her files.
She hadn't been lying.
But the double-0s were all acting normally - which was still incredibly abnormal by usual people's standards - so he told himself not to worry too much and instead trusted the hyped-up knotheads when they told him that Duncan would be fine.
They hoped.
"Come on, sweetheart, it's time for you to go home".
"One more minute" Q replied distractedly, eyes rapidly scanning through the list of buildings the Russian general owned in eastern Europe. If he'd started in Severnaya, Siberia of all places, then maybe he'd run back there now that he knew MI6 was onto him and-
"No, you little menace, now".
Someone reached over his monitor and hit the off-screen button.
Blinking, Q frowned as his gaze tried to adjust to the sudden darkness, before he finally realised that most of the lights in the main branch had been switched off. It was late, then. Very late.
Turning back to the rest of the room, he found Edie and Saif standing in front of his desk, visible only by the faint glow of the open door behind them.
They looked quite striking, side by side, he thought distantly, both alpha's tall and slim with golden skin and dark features. But whereas 005 had an inherent relaxed fluidity, reminding the omega of a lazy tiger basking in the sun, 009 was sleeker, stronger, with that graceful yet powerful stance of a panther.
Neither agent was someone you'd like to meet in a dark alleyway late at night.
"It's well past closing time, Q" Saif continued, "And you're not going to get any more work done when it's this late".
The omega sighed and nodded, hands coming up to run through his hair and drag over his face. He was tired, exhausted, and as much as he loathed to admit it, 005 was right. He would do no one any good if he burned out, and right now, he could seriously do with some tea, a nice long shower, and sleep.
"Come on, sweetheart" Edie said with a smile, "We'll drive you home".
Although the double-0s had relaxed marginally with their protection detail after M declared Mortner missing-and-hopefully-dead, they still insisted on bringing him to and from work each day, although they thankfully no longer demanded that one of them stayed in his flat at night too. He trusted the entire pack with his life - evidently - but there was still a part of him that just couldn't let his guard down, knowing that there was an alpha in the room next to him and he had no idea what they were doing.
It was also a far quicker - and cleaner - mode of transport than getting the tube, and Q longed for spring when the weather would stay good enough for him to cycle to work again.
For now, though, he just let the double-0s have their moment, and after making sure he got to the front door okay, Saif and Edie waved him off and drove away.
Putting the key in the lock, he turned it once, twice, three times, and then quickly deactivated his alarm before it could start beeping. He could feel a headache forming behind closed eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to feed the cats, shove some form of substance into his own body, and then collapse in his nice warm bed for the night.
Paco meowed as he locked the door behind him, and Q frowned as he realised that the sphynx was half hidden beneath the couch.
And that Yana was nowhere to be seen.
Swallowing thickly, he silently pulled the taser from his pocket and cursed himself for not stashing a handgun in the drawer of the hall table. He had one under his pillow in the bedroom, and another in an unassuming wicker box in the bathroom - don't judge, he'd seen enough Alfred Hitchcock movies to know that being naked, blind, and armed was significantly more desirable than naked, blind, and as good as dead. There was also the dismantled Walter on the kitchen table that he hadn't gotten around to fixing, but logically he knew that if he even made it to the kitchen, then it would be far smarter to grab a knife rather than try and put that old thing back together.
Paco meowed again, and Q was spurred into action.
He still had his phone, and M was a simple button press away, although the man had since been demoted from one to that little asterisk star sign thing on the mobile's keypad. Alec had gotten particularly bored one afternoon, had pickpocketed Q's phone, and then immediately set about assigning each double-0 to a different speed dial button, based on their code names. Alexis was now speed dial one, Charlie was two, Duncan three, and so on and so forth until all nine spaces were filled in with a double-0 each. He hadn't tried ringing four or seven yet; part of him was worried that no one would answer, but the other half of him was even more worried that someone would. Either way, it meant he now had nine possible double-0s, M, and Eve all just a single touch away if he needed to call for backup.
But.
You know.
He'd rather not.
Silently creeping towards the kitchen - a knife really did sound better than a taser right about now - he let out a sigh of relief when he realised that the only other occupant of the room was Yana.
The cat meowed softly at him from the kitchen table as he entered, and Q mentally berated himself for getting so worked up over nothing.
The chances of someone managing to break into his flat were tiny, after all, and the chances of someone doing so without his alarm system notifying him were even smaller.
He was just still on edge, that was all, but clearly, there was nobody else here so-
"Hey, where you keep your- stop fucking screaming, it's me, where do you keep your first aid kit?"
Q gripped his chest, heart racing as he stared at the familiar silhouette standing in his kitchen doorway. Duncan stared back at him, completely nonplussed despite the blood on his skin, and the omega simultaneously wanted to punch him and hug him in equal measure. He settled for doing what he did best instead - resorting to sarcasm.
"Well, since you're obviously so relaxed about sneaking around my flat, 003, I would have thought that you'd have found it by now!"
"Derision isn't a good look on you, brat".
"I wish I could say the same about breaking and entering, and you!" he shot back, "Just where the bloody hell have you been?!"
"Here and there". He shrugged, and then immediately winced. "And I already checked all the usual places but I can't find a fucking kit anywhere".
Q sighed, gave himself a moment to just breathe in a failed attempt to calm down his still racing heart, before repocketing the taser and none-too-gently shoving his way past the agent.
Switching on the lights, he walked over to the coffee table - which was still littered with magnets and bits of wire - before reaching underneath it and pulling out a compact but well-stocked red box.
"You keep your first aid kit in the fucking living room?" Duncan asked, silently following him.
"It's where I do the most tinkering" he defended, "And it's not as if I ever have time to actually cook, is it? I don't need to keep it in the kitchen".
"And what about the bathroom?"
"I don't use a straight razor to shave, 003; I use a safety razor, like normal people".
"I'm just surprised you're able to fucking shave at all" he grumbled, throwing himself down on the couch and not even flinching as Paco hissed at him before running away.
"Enough with the age jokes!" Q snapped, "And what the hell have I told you about scaring my cats?!"
"... Not to?"
"Not to" he agreed, "And yet here you are, a lumbering mass of blood and bruises, after breaking into my flat and- actually. How the bloody hell did you even get in here?!"
"Broke the lock on the bedroom window".
The omega stared at him.
"What? You live on the ground floor, brat, it wasn't exactly fucking difficult".
"There's a basement flat in this building and a railing that circles the entire ground floor!" he exclaimed, "How the hell did you manage to jump across a metre wide gap to break into a room that doesn't even have a window ledge?!"
"... Alright, so it was a little fucking difficult" Duncan admitted, "And I may or may not have pulled some fucking stitches while doing it. Hence the first aid kit".
Q paused, closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to convince himself not to murder the stupid bloody alpha before he had the chance the make sure that he wasn't going to die.
"Okay" he finally said, "Shirt off. Now".
He got a flirty smirk in response. "Why Q, you only ever had to ask".
"Does Saif know you turn into him when you've been injured?"
That shut him up real quick.
Wincing and cursing under his breath, Duncan struggled out of his frayed t-shirt, but the omega made no move to help him. As far as he was concerned, the bloody alpha deserved everything he got for going off script, blowing his own cover, and then very adamantly refusing to listen to his Quartermaster.
And besides.
If he'd made it back to England still breathing, then it wasn't exactly a life-threatening wound, now was it?
Finally pulling the shirt over his head, the double-0 was at least considerate enough to place the blood-stained fabric on the wooden floor rather than on the couch. Q sat down on the coffee table opposite him - after shoving the magnets and wires out of the way first - with the first aid kit in hand.
There was an ever-darkening square of gauze covering the man's left shoulder and a few bruises and scrapes marring the rest of him too, but thankfully, there didn't seem to be anything worse.
"What happened?" he asked, opening the red box and pulling out disposable gloves, antiseptic, and cloth.
Duncan twisted around slightly to give him better access.
"They were waiting for me in the mainframe. Obviously, they realised why I was there, and that I likely had help. I knocked one of them out before another one fucking shot me. The third guy was typing something on the computer, and a few seconds later, I lost all fucking contact with you".
"I noticed" he replied dryly, peeling back the red-stained gauze and grimacing at the sight of torn and strained stitches underneath. "Clearly you survived the encounter, but what happened next?"
"I managed to get the gun off of the bastard and then used it to shoot him and his… friend". Duncan shrugged and then immediately regretted the movement. "After that, I downloaded the mainframe onto the USB, or as much of it as I fucking could, anyway. And then I hightailed it out of there".
"And, what? Couldn't have found a phone somewhere? Let us know that you were, you know, still alive?!"
The alpha winced again as Q poured blue antiseptic over the small yet very very deep wound.
"Funnily enough, my main priority was getting the fuck out of there. I haven't even contacted the rest of the fucking pack yet".
He hadn't-
Q paused, feeling oddly touched.
He hadn't even contacted the others yet? He'd gone straight to Q without even letting the double-0s know he was alive? Not even with their weird-mind-linking-always-in-contact-telepathic-connection thing?
Although, granted, that seemed to work on a text-only basis, but still.
Out of everyone in the pack that Duncan could have gone to, he'd chosen to go to Q.
… Did that make him one of the pack now?
"If you could stop the bleeding sometime today, brat, that'd be fucking great".
Q sighed.
So much for their moment.
Wiping away the remainder of the blood, he critically eyed the wound and wondered just how badly he'd have to fuck this up before Duncan would even consider going to medical.
As if reading his mind, the man scowled.
"I don't need it to be fucking perfect, brat, I'd just prefer not to keep bleeding".
"And you couldn't have gone to medical? Or even a normal hospital?!"
"And deal with their fucking questions? No thank you".
"You're dealing with my questions, aren't you?"
"Well… yeah, but you're… fucking different" he grumbled, "And how many times have I saved your ass from going to medical?"
Which-
Fair.
Q sighed again.
"I can't do stitches" he warned, but Duncan didn't look fazed. "There's no need. Most through and throughs don't get stitches anyway, but time was limited and so were my fucking resources, and I had to stop the bleeding pretty damn quick. You got any gauze?"
He held up the packet.
"Good. Pack as much of it as you can against the wounds, and then wrap it. Tightly".
"Wounds, plural?" Q asked, doing as told.
"The back is worse than the front".
Frowning, Q stood and awkwardly leaned over the agent to see the back of his shoulder. The exit wound was higher than the entrance wound, and almost twice the size too, but he consoled himself with the fact that at least this meant that he wouldn't have to go searching for any bullets.
Sitting back down, he ripped open the packet of medical tape and began securing the gauze in place as best he could. Once both wounds were covered, and the bleeding thankfully minimal in nature, Duncan nodded at the roll of brown compression bandages.
"Use those to wrap it; it'll keep the pressure on until I eventually report in".
"Eventually?"
"I was fucking shot, brat. I deserve a few hours of peace and quiet".
Unwrapping the elastic bandages, his hands hovered over the agent's shoulder, unsure. Duncan's scowl lessened slightly.
"I'll talk you through it" he promised, "Tape the end of the bandage on top of my shoulder, and then wrap it under and around my arm a few times, then across my back, under the right arm, and around my chest. It needs to be tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight that I can't fucking breathe".
Q nodded, eyes focused on the task at hand and he carefully - ever so carefully - started to wrap the compression around the man's admittedly rather impressive body. He kept going until he reached the end of the roll of bandages, before taping it in place against 003's upper arm, hoping that it was a good enough position to not be jostled or come undone.
Now that the life-threatening part - or not - was out of the way, the adrenaline was starting to fade, and the entire previous ten minutes started to catch up to him with a deafening roar. Duncan was missing but now he wasn't missing but he'd broken into his flat and Q had thought for a split second that there was a strange alpha standing in his kitchen and he wouldn't be able to defend himself before that alpha revealed himself to be a friend but that friend was hurt and injured and bleeding and it was only Q's inadequate medical skills that were keeping the man's blood inside of his body because he'd been shot and his hands were covered in red despite the gloves and there was red on the floor and on the first aid kit and on him and-
"Hey".
A warm, calloused hand gently cupped his face and Q forced himself to look back up at his agent's face.
Duncan smiled, softly. "I'm alright, brat. And so are you. I'm sorry if I fucking scared you, but I just… I didn't want to deal with them at '6 right now and I sure as fuck didn't want to deal with medical".
He snorted despite himself, but could still feel his hands start to shake.
"I mean it, Q. I'm fine. Really".
"You have a hole in your shoulder" he countered, "Two holes, in fact".
"And in a few weeks that'll all be fine too" Duncan finished firmly, "I promise".
"... Alright" he finally accepted, "But as fun as this reversal of last time is, I really have to wash my hands right now".
The alpha grinned, sharp and amused and gone just as quick. "You go do that, then. I won't fucking die in the meantime".
"You better not". He sniffed, gingerly removing the gloves. "A dead double-0 in my apartment? How the hell would I explain that one away? The paperwork alone would be a fucking nightmare".
Duncan's laughter followed him to the bathroom where he disposed of the gloves and tried not to look too closely at his hands as he washed away the blood. There were a few drops on his cardigan sleeves too, and he quickly shrugged it off before dropping it on the floor to deal with later.
Right now, he had a wayward double-0 to deal with, a double-0 who had very likely not eaten over the past three days, and even less likely had slept over the past two. He'd have to order in, considering that his own food supply was rather barren asides from the cats' food, but that thought reminded him of the fact that he was almost out of Purina Gourmet too.
So much for having a quiet night in.
Sighing, he finished scrubbing red out from underneath his nails, and then dried his hands on the towel next to the sink.
Maybe he'd order curry…
Kicking off his shoes and yanking the tie from around his neck, he left both of those where they fell too, and turned around to head back to the living room where his agent had hopefully managed to not get into any trouble since he left.
He had only taken one step when he heard it.
A quiet creak and a low whistle, almost like the wind rushing through trees, before there came another thud and then-
Silence.
Slowly peering around the door, Q saw that Duncan was still on the couch where he'd left him.
And that sound had come from his bedroom.
The bedroom with the very fucking open window.
There was someone else inside his flat.