Dead Reckoning
Put simply, the entire mission was a cock-up from the start.
Based on the data Alec had managed to copy onto the USB stick in Cuba, Q had narrowed down Ourumov's location to a handful of possible hideouts. One of those, in Seville, Duncan had been sent to investigate, and although he had most definitely gone off script, he had also retrieved even more information than they had expected, and one of those files proved to be immensely useful.
It was a personnel file of one Colonel Janssen, a tall dark woman featured in every photo they had of Ourumov, but whose name had nevertheless managed to elude them.
Until now.
Now that they knew who she was - and more importantly, where she was - M had ordered Bond to follow the assassin-for-hire to one of her many holiday homes in Nice, to see if the Russian general was using his second-in-command's base as a hideout.
The mission was simple: observe, but do not engage.
Which hopefully explained Q's confusion as James bloody Bond proceeded to very much engage.
"007, just what on earth are you- Do not sit down at that baccarat table! Do you hear me, do not-"
Bond sat down.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Q snapped, watching as Janssen lit a cigar, studying the agent with dark brown eyes.
"Banko".
He was going to play. James bloody Bond was going to play a game of cards, at the table he'd been ordered not to approach, in the casino he'd been ordered not to enter, with the woman he'd been ordered under no uncertain circumstances to talk to.
"It appears we share the same passions. Well, three anyway".
Anddd now he was talking to her.
"I count two" Janssen replied, "Motoring and baccarat".
She flipped over her cards, and the dealer spoke.
"Huit à la banque".
Bond showed his cards too.
"Seven. Madam wins".
Q got a little bit of smug satisfaction from that, but it was quickly overridden by anger and frustration and what-the-fuck-ed-ness as James bloody Bond continued talking to her.
"Doubler".
"Suivi".
The dealer dealt them both cards.
"Carte".
Janssen revealed her cards.
"Madam stands with five".
Bond flipped over two face cards.
"Six. Madam loses".
"Черт побери!" she hissed, "Enjoy it while it lasts".
"The very words I live by".
The colonel stood up and made her way around the table, and Q almost let out a sigh of relief before he realised that his stupid moronic idiot of an agent was following her.
"007, do not engage! I repeat, do not engage!"
"And what words do you live by?"
Q was going to murder him.
Janssen turned back to Bond. "The trick is to quit while you're still ahead".
"That's one trick I never learned".
The omega snorted. Yeah. He'd gotten that one right.
"Perhaps you'll show me how it's done". Bond signaled for a waiter to come over. "Vodka Martini. Shaken, not stirred. And for you?"
"The same. Straight up. With a twist".
Q rolled his eyes at the woman's painfully unsubtle flirting.
"Thank you, Mr…"
"Don't you dare!" the omega immediately snapped.
"The name's Bond. James Bond".
Oh, he was definitely going to murder the stupid fucking knothead!
"Xenia Janssen".
"Your accent... Georgian?"
"Very good Mr Bond. You've been to Russia?"
"Not recently, I used to drop in occasionally. Shoot in and out".
Q face palmed, wondering if he could get away with switching off the comms and pretending that Bond had done it instead. It was certainly something that he'd do, after all, and the omega was actually surprised the man hadn't done so already.
Instead, he frowned, as a new face stepped up close to the woman, short and bearded and at an awkward angle to the cameras, but still no match for Q's facial recognition program.
"Admiral Chuck Farrel, Canadian Armed Forces" he told 007, "Now what is a man like that doing with Colonel Janssen?"
"Should we go?"
The woman glanced at the Admiral disinterestedly before turning back.
"Nice to meet you, Mr Bond".
"The pleasure, I'm sure, was all mine".
Janssen studied him closely for another moment before storming off with the Canadian admiral in tow. As soon as they were out of the casino, Q rounded on Bond, furious.
"What the hell was that?! Your orders were not to engage, 007! It was risky enough having you tail her, but to talk to her? To give her your real name?! Just what the hell were you thinking?!"
"That's just it, Quartermaster". He sneered. "I was thinking. You can take your useless orders and shove them. Some of us actually know what we're doing".
The omega reeled back as if slapped.
Did James bloody Bond seriously just imply that he- what, that he believed those pathetic rumors of Q sleeping his way to the top? That he hadn't gotten the Quartermaster position because of his intelligence and talent? That he didn't know what he was talking about and didn't deserve the job he had?
"Whatever your personal feelings towards me are, 007, the mission will always come first" he said quietly, voice soft but undercut with steel, "Your orders have been handed down to me from M himself and I fully agree with his assessment of the situation".
"Well, that's not a surprise, is it?"
Bond took his martini from the waiter's tray and gave a mocking salute to the nearest camera.
"Stick to your nice little cushy desk job, Quartermaster, and let the experts handle this".
Q yanked his headset off with a snarl.
That was it.
It was official.
He was going to murder James bloody Bond.
But, of course, the stupid idiotic fucking knothead just had to go and cause even more mayhem first.
"Oh lovely, you've gotten yourself arrested".
On-screen, Bond glared at him viciously.
"You broke into Janssen's yacht, you stole a speedboat, you failed to prevent her from stealing a helicopter, you let Ourumov see your face, and now, the proverbial cherry on top, you've gotten yourself arrested". Q took a long, loud slurp of tea. "Did I miss anything?"
Bond yanked out his earpiece and flung it into the Ligurian sea just before two soldats de l'aviation pinned him in place.
"Very mature".
Sighing, the omega pulled off his headset and hit the hashtag on his phone. M answered on the fourth ring.
"Quartermaster. Is there a problem?"
"That depends" he replied evenly, "Just how friendly are we with the French right now?"
"... What has he done?"
"What hasn't he done would be a far shorter list, sir". He leaned back in his chair, watching as James bloody Bond smirked and tried to charm his way out of the situation and failed. "The French Air Force has just arrested him, he's lost his earpiece, and his cover's blown. Ourumov saw his face".
M cursed. "How the bloody hell did he manage to do that?!"
"By going off script. A lot... A lot a lot" he replied reluctantly, "007 has a rather strong… aversion to taking orders, it would seem".
There was a beat of silence at the other end of the line, and Q was once again reminded of just how intelligent his boss actually was.
"A strong aversion to taking orders? Or a strong aversion to taking orders from you?"
On-screen, one of the généraux put Bond in handcuffs.
"007 appears to have a slight… bias, when it comes to omegas, sir".
"Disobeying all orders, being made, and getting arrested by the French military does not sound very slight, Quartermaster".
"I'm handling it".
"Evidently, not well enough".
Q closed his eyes and braced himself for dismissal. A Quartermaster who couldn't control his agent was one thing, but an omega who wasn't respected by his alpha subordinate was quite another. And of fucking course it would be James bloody Bond that would get him fired.
"... I'll contact the DGSE" M finally said, "Get 007 released. I trust that you can organize a plane ticket for him back to London?"
Q stilled.
Opened his eyes.
Pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it.
Blinked once. Twice.
And still continued to see 'Our Mighty and Benevolent Leader' on the screen in his hands, as Bond was shoved into a police car on the screen in front of him.
"Quartermaster?"
"Yeah… I mean yes. Yes sir, of course, I can- I can do that, no problem, sir".
There was another pause, before a huff of amused laughter.
"I meant what I said before, Q. You're damn good at your job no matter what your dynamic is. The fact that you've managed to collar eight of the beasts is proof enough of that. As far as I'm concerned, 007 is the exception, not the rule… as usual".
He snorted despite his still-racing heart.
"It'd be stupid of me to dismiss you over one bad mission, Quartermaster. Not to mention suicidal, given how protective the eight other double-0s are of you. If you say you're handling it, then I believe you… but if 007 steps up, if he does anything more than be a nuisance… you let me know, alright?"
"... Alright".
"I mean it, Q. I'm not going to lose the best damn Quartermaster this organisation has ever had because one of the double-0s has decided to be a prat. So if he does anything worse, then tell me. Or better yet, tell one of his packmates".
He smiled. "Condoning violence, sir?"
"Considering that violence is the only thing these creatures understand, I'd argue that it's the only acceptable response to 007's… pigheadedness".
Q's smile widened into a grin. "I'll be sure to let them know that you said so".
"Please do. Any idea where that idiot is being dragged off to?"
The omega hit a few keys to follow the police car as it raced along the streets of Nice.
"Normally, I'd say the local cop shop, but given that the helicopter that was stolen was made by a military company based in Marseille, I wouldn't be surprised if they fought for jurisdiction".
"Text me the address of the nearest Air Force base. I'll call in a few favours. And as soon as that prat lands, you send him to me".
James bloody Bond was unfortunately released by the French secret service only four hours after M contacted them. Personally, Q would have preferred it if the man had stayed there for the night, or, perhaps, even indefinitely, but alas, it was not meant to be.
So instead, he bought him a one-way ticket from Marseille to Heathrow - economy, of course - lamented the loss of his wonderful equipment, and then braced himself for the inevitable chaos that the man's return would bring.
He didn't have to brace himself for long.
Exactly three hours and forty-seven minutes after the DGSE got him released, James bloody Bond was back at MI6.
More specifically, back in the labs at MI6.
Q had admittedly taken the coward's way out when equipping the man for this mission, having sent Daniel to deliver Bond's gun and earpiece instead of doing so himself. But he was a busy person, of course, and besides, Daniel had been especially bitchy recently and needed to be knocked down a peg. Having to deal with Bond was good for him.
It wasn't for any other reason like cowardice or fear or nerves on Q's part.
Of course not.
But now… now, Q knew that he had to deal with the alpha head-on. Bond was undoubtedly going to be furious, and he refused to subject any of his minions to that level of anger and testosterone and alpha-male-posturing when he didn't have to. So the omega switched off his screens, double-checked that his will was up-to-date, and then headed down to the main branch area to wait for 007's arrival.
Bond stormed into TSS like there was a hoard of angry serial killers chasing him, ignored R's startled yell and the terrified minions he almost knocked over, stalked up to Q's desk, slammed both hands down on it hard enough to make it rattle, and glared.
"007" Q said evenly, adjusting his glasses, "I see that you've returned".
"Yeah, with no thanks to you, you bloody fool!"
The omega blinked, once, and forced himself to remain calm.
"M would like a word. Immediately".
"Gone crying to Mallory, have you? Can't say I'm surprised".
Okay, now this was just getting ridiculous.
"Yes, well, I can say that I am surprised, 007, at your rather belligerent tone!" he snapped, "I can only assume that it's the jet lag making you act so inappropriately towards your superior".
And oh he didn't like that.
Bond's scent soured, the warm spicy scent turning colder than dry ice, pheromones stretching out across the branch and freezing everyone it reached.
"You are not my superior" he hissed, voice quieter and more deadly than Q had ever heard it, and immediately his omegian side wanted to cower away and bare his neck.
Instead, Q firmly planted both feet on the ground and stared the alpha in the eye.
"I am your Quartermaster, 007, and you will treat me as such!"
"My Quartermaster wouldn't have let that mission get so fucked up!"
"The only one who fucked up that mission, was you! Your orders were to observe and not to engage!"
"My orders were stupid!"
"Well, at least you've got one thing in common".
Bond snarled viciously, sharp canines on show, and Q was suddenly aware of just how quiet the lab had become. Over the alpha's shoulder, he saw R frantically whispering something to Halim and Silvia, before they both nodded and ran out of the branch, no doubt in search of the other double-0s.
As if they could prevent James bloody Bond from entering an all-out rage.
"You were given a mission briefing" Q said quietly, "You were told exactly what you had to do and why you had to do it… You were the one who decided to ignore all of that".
"I made a judgement call. Something which you could never hope to understand".
"Oh? And why's that, 007? Because I've never been out in the field? Assuming, of course, that you're just ignoring the entire fuck-up that was Austria, but- oh wait, that was because of you going off-script as well, now wasn't it?"
Bond's teeth flashed in the light as leaned across the desk. "You could never and will never understand, because you are nothing more than a jumped-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking, replacement bitch!"
"Bitch?" Q raised a solitary eyebrow. "Oh, now we're getting to the heart of the matter, aren't we? Tell me, 007, what do you gain by putting down omegas?"
"Peace of mind". He smiled, but there was nothing kind about it. "Very prone to being compromised, omegas".
"Not this one".
"For now. Or you could be compromised as we speak. Lying to everyone around you, secretly working for the richest alpha with the nicest co-"
Q shoved him, and Bond was so surprised he actually stumbled back.
"I am fully capable and far more than my dynamic, 007, and it's self-righteous bastards like you that prevent more omegas from becoming just as clever and skilled!" He snarled, marching around the desk to stand toe-to-toe. "My dynamic didn't affect our previous work together which was easily the most difficult period that MI6 had ever gone through and if you even insinuate that I am less than worthy or capable of betraying England again, then I'll put a fucking bullet in your brain myself!"
Bond bristled, before straightening up to his full height, sharp canines on show as he leaned over the Quartermaster and-
"Perhaps you need a reminder on just how liable you are. Kneel!"
The omega felt the compulsion wash over him, the order sinking through his pores and bones and into his very soul, the alpha's command echoing in his mind and making him want to cower away and fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.
But Q had spent far too long under the control of another abusive son of a bitch to not become halfway immune to it, and with the adrenaline and fear and pure unadulterated fury that was currently coursing through his veins, it was a hell of lot easier than he expected to shake off the compulsion, bare his own teeth in response, and then promptly deck him.
The entire lab froze.
Bond carefully reached up and touched his lip.
His hand came away red.
Slowly looking up, he stared at the omega, shocked into silence, although whether it was because Q had punched him, the sudden realisation that he'd tried to compel him, or that the omega had broken through it, he wasn't sure.
Q refused to give him a chance to speak, instead channelling that adrenaline and fear and pure unadulterated fury as he strode forward with such a glare that Bond actually took a step back.
"You're an elitist dynamicist relic prick from the dinosaur age who isn't worth the paper MI6's file is written on and if you ever, ever pull such a disgusting barbaric abusive fucking stunt like that again on anyone that you're not ordered to then I won't even get the chance to kill you myself because every other double-0 will be after your head so quick that there won't be anything left of you for me to burn. They have no issue with my dynamic after all and they sure as hell would protect me before they'd save you after what you just did".
His chest was heaving, breathing loud in the dead-silent room.
"Get out of my branch. Now. Or I swear to christ, Bond, I'll rip out your throat with my bare fucking teeth!"
He ran.
James bloody Bond ran from TSS with his tail between his legs and Q was too angry and scared and jittery and all over the place to even acknowledge the standing ovation that his minions gave him in return.
He was shaking, trembling, and it took every single ounce of his last-remaining strength to climb up the stairs to his office, ignoring the applause and cheers and pats on the back along the way.
He slammed his office door behind him, hit the button to make the windows overlooking the branch opaque, and then collapsed in his chair with tears in his eyes and a racing heart and hands that wouldn't fucking stop shaking as he desperately tried not to have a mental breakdown in the middle of MI6.
No one had tried to compel him since his abusive asshole ex, asides from that one time where Duncan did to literally save his life. Given how quickly he'd managed to shake off the command, Q was surprised that the after-effects were even affecting him this much, and then immediately felt furious at himself for not expecting it because, spoiler alert, the after-effects were a very real fucking thing.
He wanted a hug.
No.
Scratch that.
He wanted an entire bloody puppy pile, but he also knew that the scent of any alpha right now, even Eve or Saif or Alec or-
Yeah.
It would not be good.
A gentle knock on his door startled him, and Q's hand automatically went for the gun in his desk drawer, before he realised that it was only R.
"Can I come in?"
She had never asked him for permission to enter before, but his expression must have told her something, or else she knew even more about his past than he thought, but either way, the omega was unbelievably grateful for the little grasp of control that the question gave him, given that he felt approximately three seconds away from splintering apart at the seams.
He gave a jerky nod, and she smiled, softly, at him, her movements slow and predictable and unthreatening and Q realised with a start that she was treating him like a trauma victim, before he suddenly realised with another start that she wasn't exactly wrong.
She was also holding a mug of steaming tea, although there was no hint of vanilla so it wasn't from Charlie - which sent Q's thoughts down an entirely other path because Halim and Silvia had run to get the rest of the pack when Bond had started to act threateningly so were they on their way now or were they going after Bond or did Edie's no-shoot order only apply when the intended victim hadn't broken the most important law in the foundations of their society and-
R's scent hit him as she placed the cup on his desk, and he flinched.
She quickly took three steps back, and Q wanted to cry.
"Can I get anyone for you?"
He gave an abrupt laugh that sounded more like a sob because- really, who could she get? The only people he really wanted right now were all alphas, and that alone would send him spiralling into a drop, but R was an alpha too, and so was Eve and M and-
"Bill".
He grasped onto the beta's name like a lifeline.
"Get Bill".