Over the Barrel
After Edith left, James sat back in his chair and thought.
He'd gotten off pretty lightly, all things considered, and it both humbled him and infuriated him that he only had Q to thank for it. More than one double-0 had told him that the omega made them promise not to kill him - and just how close had he gotten with the pack for him to even know that that was the most likely possibility? - but Millicent had taken that information one step further by saying that not only had Q prevented his death, but he'd prevented him from getting shot, stabbed, and/or poisoned too.
James was in his debt for more than one thing right now, but he consoled himself with the fact that soon, it wouldn't even matter.
Once M read that report, he was as good as dead anyway.
Downing the last of the whiskey, he left the empty bottle on his desk and turned back to the computer. Being a double-0 paid well, after all, and there was no sense in the government getting his money when he was gone, so he'd have to transfer it all over to Alec pretty quick.
As soon as he pulled up a web browser, however, his computer froze.
Bond stared at it, unblinking.
The screen in front of him suddenly turned blue.
A problem has been detected in your hard drive. The system will now scan the disk to attempt to fix it. The process may take several hours.
… Yeah. That was about right.
Sighing, he collapsed back in his seat and considered his options.
Given that he hardly ever used the blasted thing, to begin with, losing everything on the computer's hard drive wouldn't actually be much of a loss, but explaining the reason for its crash to M would be a bitch.
He could just go straight to TSS, he guessed, before suddenly realising with an ironic smirk that no, actually, he couldn't. Not just because he was rather obviously blacklisted from the labs at the moment, but also because his computer had been perfectly fine not five minutes ago and he hadn't done anything on it since.
So what else could have possibly caused it to crash, if not for a bunch of vengeful tech experts?
No cyber attack had even scratched the surface of MI6 since Q had increased their security, so if it wasn't an outside attack, then it could only have come from the guys in charge of their internal system.
Oh well.
A dead man had no use for a computer, and it wasn't as if Alec didn't already know all the passcodes to his bank accounts anyway.
He could even do a frighteningly accurate forgery of Bond's signature, too.
Standing up, he headed for the door and then paused. He was feeling… well, rather a lot of things at the moment, if he were being honest, but he also knew that approximately sixty percent of those emotions could be worked out by shooting something.
It was kind of sad that his last few hours were going to be spent in MI6's shooting range with a blood-stained suit and a bruised face, but such was the life of a double-0.
He was wound up, tense, from not attacking the double-0s when they'd attacked him - it was his instinct to fight back, after all, to kill and fight and survive - but the only other people in this building who could withstand a full-out attack from him were the aforementioned double-0s, and they didn't deserve his anger.
James knew he couldn't trust himself to spar with anyone else right now, either. He'd likely cause irreparable damage to the senior agents, and probably end up murdering the juniors, and really, there was only so angry that M could get before he shot Bond himself.
The requisitions officer handed him a gun and a box of bullets without a problem, although the man did give him more than a few strange looks for his off-brand appearance right now, but thankfully, the man also knew better than to ask a double-0 where that blood had come from, so Jame entered the seventh booth without hassle.
He was angry at himself, and even more angry because he was angry at himself. That bloody omega didn't deserve to make him hate himself, but that bloody omega wasn't just an omega, he was also Q, and Q did deserve his self-loathing but Q wasn't just Q he was an omega and-
*BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG*
All six straight in the ten-ring.
It didn't make him feel any better.
With the remaining four bullets, he aimed for the four outer corners of the target, just for fun.
That didn't make him feel any better either.
He released the magazine and replaced it with a full clip.
Alec was right. He needed to separate omega from Q just as he needed to separate omega from everyone else he came across too.
Millicent was right. Q wasn't a liability; not when he could shake off a command and fight back so easily.
Charlie was right. The other double-0s had accepted Q wholly and completely, and James knew better than to doubt all eight of their instincts.
Alexis was right. He was being a biggoted asshole, and it wasn't just affecting his relationship with the Quartermaster, but it was affecting his relationship with the others too.
Williams was right. Q was still Q no matter what his dynamic was, and it wasn't his fault that James had mislabelled his dynamic because of his own biased opinions.
Fortier was right. The omega didn't deserve to be abused by the man he'd risked everything for, and Bond needed to stop hurting him like that.
Saif was right. Q was far tougher than any of them realised, but that didn't mean that he deserved the bullshit and trouble that James had been giving him.
And as much as it pained him to admit, Edith was right too. Q held the balance of his life in the palm of his hand right now, and by making an enemy of the omega, James was making an enemy of everyone.
He emptied the second magazine into the human outline, and then pulled off his ear protection with a sigh.
He'd fucked up. Big time. Not just because he attacked the most-loved person in MI6 - in TSS and the double-0s opinions, anyway. But because he attacked someone who did not deserve it, and most definitely didn't deserve it based on something he had no control over.
Q didn't choose to be an omega, just like Vesper hadn't either.
But whereas Vesper did choose to betray him… Q had been on his side since day one.
And this was how he had repaid him...
"007".
James felt his shoulders tense at the pure amount of disgust in that single word, and turned only to find Tanner staring back at him, his face as impassive as ever, but his eyes cold.
"M wants to speak to you. Now".
The once-friendly man didn't stick around for his response, and James found himself feeling strangely remorseful as he handed back his weapon and the remaining magazine clips.
What use had a dead man for a gun anyway?
James walked into M's office and stopped in front of the man's desk. He didn't bother sitting down. This wouldn't be a long conversation.
"Sir".
He kept his posture relaxed and tried to ignore how Mallory's gaze lingered on the bruises on his face, the cut on his lip, and the blood on his collar.
He wasn't the most unpresentable that the man had ever seen him, but it certainly was the first time that Bond felt so aware of his own dishevelment.
"... I don't even know what to say to you".
He wisely bit back a smart remark.
"To think that any agent in this building, least of all you, would do such a thing is… unimaginable". M gave a bitter smirk. "Or, at least, it was unimaginable... I've already heard Q's account of the events. Now I want to hear yours".
He tapped the file in front of him, and James realised with a start that the Quartermaster must have already signed the incident report.
Nothing he could say would save him now.
"I outlined everything that happened in my report, sir" he replied carefully, but M merely scoffed and shook his head. "No, 007, you outlined some things that happened in your report. But I've already heard everything that actually happened, including the parts you left out. So go on. Tell me the truth, why don't you?"
James swallowed thickly and reluctantly nodded.
"I went to France to track Colonel Janseen and followed her to a casino. I proceeded to go against the Quartermaster's orders and made contact with the target. The mission went downhill from there, and eventually led to my cover being blown. I returned to TSS and I… took my frustration out on the Quartermaster. I attacked him, and everything he did in retaliation was merely an act of self-defense".
"He shoved you".
"Yes sir".
"And punched you".
"Yes sir".
"And then he, let me see…" M picked up the file and pulled out a sheet of paper, "Oh yes. He threatened to rip your throat out with his bare teeth".
James felt the corner of his mouth twitch up despite the severity of the situation. The pup was tough. Suicidal, perhaps, to blatantly threaten a double-0 like that, but certainly not a coward.
"Yes sir".
M closed the file and placed it back on the desk in between them.
"... I need to trust my agents, 007".
"I understand, sir".
"I'm sure I don't need to tell you the damage that the last rogue double-0 did".
Headquarters destroyed. Parliament attacked. M murdered.
"No sir".
"And I'm also sure that you know exactly what happens to agents who abuse their power". Blue eyes pierced his own. "Do you have anything to say in your defence?"
"... I'm sorry".
M blinked, startled by the genuineness in his voice. James knew that laying all his cards out on the table was a stupid move even at the worst of times, and that emotions only got you killed, but he was so bloody tired right now and if he was going to get killed anyway, then what did it even matter?
"There's no excuse for what I did. I was… compromised, furious, still reeling after everything that happened with Skyfall and Spectre and- and similar things that have happened in my past. The first and only omega that I… ever had an attachment with, betrayed me in the worst possible way, and left me… distrustful, of omegas in general. But I know that it's wrong to think like that. And I know that what I did should never have happened". He paused, and then thought, well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "I'm ashamed of myself, and I fully understand and accept the consequences of my actions. Quite frankly, sir… I should be shot for what I did".
"You should be" M said simply, before pushing the file towards him and flipping open the first page, "But unfortunately, not everyone else agrees".
It was the incident report.
The incident report with Bond's sloping handwriting and a stamp from HR and M's signature and-
And a huge tear down the center of the page, splitting it in two.
"Apparently, Bond, our Quartermaster is a fan of second chances. Normally, I would agree, but for him to ignore a transgression as large as this?" He shook his head. "Q just saved your fucking life, 007. Don't fuck this up".
James continued to stare, head reeling as M snapped at him to take the file as a "reminder" of "just how much you owe him". He slowly slid it towards himself, somewhat annoyed to find his hands shaking once more - was there really no limit to the effect that Q had on him?
"You're a damn good agent, Bond, despite being a pitiful excuse of a man, and truth be told, I don't trust the other double-0s or myself not to murder you right now. So I think it's better for everyone if you leave the country for a while".
His head still heard, but he at least had enough common sense left to realise that Mallory wasn't talking about a vacation.
"I'm sending you on a recon mission. It should take approximately a week, as long as you don't go off script again, but it's nothing too complicated. I've emailed you the details".
"I'm afraid my computer is… experiencing technical difficulties, at the moment sir".
M stared at him.
"Why am I not surprised? Okay, long story short, here's what you have to do-"
James tuned him out, relying on his eidetic memory to fill him in on the debrief later. Even from the first few minutes of the explanation, he could already tell that this was a job way below his pay grade, a job below even the senior agents' pay grade, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
That, and the fact he was still too shocked to say anything.
Q had rejected the claim.
Q had read the report of an incident that had happened in front of over two dozen eyewitnesses and then said to M's face that it was a lie. That it hadn't happened. That he wasn't pressing charges. Q had denied that Bond had committed one of the most atrocious acts that a human being could commit on another and- for what?
So he'd have something to hold over him for the rest of his life? But that didn't make sense because, let's face it, double-0's didn't exactly have a long life span to begin with. But even with the implausibility of that aside, everything that he'd experienced and heard and seen about the latest Quartermaster completely rejected the fact that he'd ever do something so sneaky and vulgar.
Q didn't want Bond to owe him, he just wanted… what?!
For this all to go away? To pretend that it had never happened? The omega had stood up for himself pretty bloody fantastically, even in the face of a commanding alpha, so he clearly wasn't the type of person to just step aside and ignore any wrongdoings.
So why was he ignoring this injustice?
"-that clear?"
Bond blinked.
"Yes sir".
"Good" M said, before reaching down and lifting up a metal briefcase, placing it on the desk between them. "I decided that it'd be best if you avoided Q branch for the foreseeable future, so here's your equipment. Inside you will find your gun, GPS transmitter, and comms unit, and I'll have Miss Moneypenny forward the mission file to your phone… Now get the fuck out of my office".
James didn't dare glance over at Eve as he passed through the waiting room, instead choosing to save his own life now that he'd been granted one more chance.
Q had saved him twice now, both from the other double-0s and from the firing squad, not to mention all the times he'd had his back in the field, whether from the equipment he'd invented or advice given on comms.
He had to have a reason for it.
Returning to his office, Bond left the briefcase by the door, and then slowly placed the incident report on his desk. In a fit of… something, he found himself reaching into the top drawer and pulling out a roll of sellotape, ripping off a strip and carefully, ever-so-carefully taping the ripped page back together.
The Quartermaster's signature box remained conspicuously empty.
He had to have a reason.
Returning the paper to its folder, James left the cover open and neatly placed it in the middle of his desk, exactly where he'd see it first when he returned.
If he returned.
Twenty-four hours later, he was lying on burning hot in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert, a water canteen by his hip and a Barrett M82A1 in his hands.
It really was a simple mission, one that involved a lot of sitting around and waiting for the right people to show up, his eyes permanently squinted against the scope of the rifle. He had no orders to kill - unless it was self-defence - so he didn't have the thrill of a hit to look forward to. If this mission had been assigned to him at any other time in his life, then James would have already been driven to insanity due to boredom by now.
But as it was, he currently had a lot to think about.
He wasn't surprised when it was R that greeted him during his first check-in instead of the Quartermaster. He'd always liked R, and holding the record of making her cry the fastest on comms was actually one of his very few regrets in life. Although, to be fair, it had been a rather horrible mission, he had been getting shot at, at the time, and the realisation of holding his life in her hands had made R decidedly… anxious.
He confirmed his location, no trouble so far, and that the target still hadn't arrived, and she told him, in no uncertain terms, that Q hadn't cowered away from running his mission, and in fact, had actively fought against her decision to run comms for Bond, and in the end, she'd resorted to tricking him into starting work on a new invention down in the garage, knowing that he'd lose track of time and forget about 007's call-in entirely. Q would be furious when he realised she'd taken over, but R - and everyone else for that matter - had decided that it'd be better for Q if he didn't have to deal with the bastard who'd tried to compel him right now.
James really liked R.
She was cold and perfunctory, and he didn't dare try to make her blush, so all in all, it was the quickest, most to-the-point check-in that he'd ever had, but Bond didn't fault her for it for one second.
Instead, he obediently did as told, continued getting burnt in the middle of Mexico, and focused on just how, exactly, he could ever properly apologise.