Reflections in a Double Bourbon
It was almost an entire week later before the target finally arrived, pulling up in an SUV convoy that stood out rather obviously in the dilapidated poverty-stricken town. The man they were after jumped out of the jeep and walked into the inn that James himself was staying at - although, calling it an inn was stretching things just a little bit too far. It had six rooms in total, and one of those was a bar, but he wasn't too worried about the target finding out that there was a foreign gringo in town. The innkeeper had been paid more than enough for her to realise that she should keep her mouth shut on the matter.
The man he was following did nothing too remarkable - according to the file that Eve had sent to his phone, he was simply an up-and-coming arms dealer, although he was up-and-coming far too quickly for someone not to take notice.
The Americans didn't care; they had enough gun-related problems as it was, and given that the target was suspected of supplying weapons to the Clerkenwell Crime Syndicate in London, it was MI6 that'd drawn the short straw out of all the agencies in Europe.
The man downed a few tequila shots, played a round or two of Conquian with the townspeople, and then retired early for the night, his armed escort returning to the SUVs still parked outside to stand guard.
James waited another two hours to make sure that he really was done for the day, before calling HQ.
"007 checking in. Target has arrived. I repeat, the target has arrived".
"Acknowledged, 007. Stand by".
His earpiece clicked off once more and there was silence for exactly two and a half minutes before it clicked back on.
"Orders stand, 007. Observe, but do not engage".
"Understood".
He waited for her to say "R signing off", but the expected response never came. It was quiet, in the background, aside from the odd tapping of a keyboard and the echo of howling wolves on Bond's own side. After some quick mental calculations, James worked out that it must be early morning back in England, nearing the end of the night shift. Everyone else in TSS had likely gone home hours ago, leaving just the skeletal crew in place for any emergencies that might arise.
He could still hear R's breathing, quiet and steady, but he knew that she had her reasons for staying online, so for once in his life he decided to just shut up and wait, and a few minutes later, his patience finally paid off.
"You really fucked up this time, Bond. It's been five days, and he still hasn't left the office".
There was no need to question who he was.
"Eve is feeding his cats, he's hardly sleeping, he rarely eats, and doesn't even respond to his favourite tea anymore".
The way she said that last part made James think that Q rejecting tea was the equivalent of Alec rejecting vodka.
"... I didn't mean to frighten-"
"Oh, of course you fucking did!" she snapped, "Why else would you have tried compelling him?!"
She took a deep breath in an effort to calm down.
"Anyway, that's beside the point. He isn't scared, as such, he just seems… shaken. From the little that I do know, he hasn't had the best relationships with alphas in the past. The way that you treated him dredged up some long-repressed memories and now he's struggling to block them out again".
Unwillingly, the image of Vesper came to mind, and James angrily shoved it away. He didn't have the best past with omegas, and Q didn't have the best past with alphas, so what? It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean that they were- that they were the same.
It didn't mean that he really well and truly had fucked up if Q was able to continue working with a whole pack of alphas, while he himself freaked out at the thought of working with a single omega.
If possible, that thought alone managed to make him feel even worse.
"The rest of the double-0s are doing their best to keep him functioning, but… this entire disaster affected him far more than he's willing to admit" R continued, "So I hope you're fucking happy with yourself!"
"... I am sorry" he replied quietly, "Truly, I am. I was wrong, and… and I'm going to do everything I can to make things right again".
His sincerity clearly shocked her, as it was another long few minutes before she spoke again.
"You better".
Her voice was marginally less frosty.
"R signing off".
Later that night, as James sat in the desolate bar - after sneaking in the back to avoid being seen by the target's bodyguards - he thought.
He had a glass of bourbon in front of him that he sipped from slowly and intermittently. The innkeeper had been surprised when he'd asked for a double, but Bond himself had been surprised when she'd actually pulled out a bottle. Mexico wasn't exactly known for its bourbon, after all, but he couldn't stand tequila and he wanted something a little stronger than beer.
It was cheap and poorly made, and definitely wasn't as smooth as the bottles he'd get back home, but it did the job nicely and he could feel his body start to relax.
Q was an omega.
That was… fine.
He'd had a few days to process it by now, and he… acknowledged it.
It would definitely take a few more days to fully accept it, but for now, at least, he'd moved past the stages of denial and anger, he was working through his depression, and there was really nothing about this entire situation that he could bargain with, so all that was left was acceptance.
Q was an omega.
And that was fine.
He took another sip of bourbon and grimaced at the bitter taste, briefly wondering just how long the bottle had been left open for before he'd been poured a glass.
The last time he'd had a drink this bad, was when he'd allowed himself to get wasted after attending M's funeral. The bar had been run down and decidedly seedy looking, but the alcohol was cheap and he'd just wanted to get drunk.
Remembering M made him remember all the events leading up to her death, including the rather apt message that Silva had left on all their computers.
Think on your sins.
Maybe the bastard had been right.
Q wasn't Vesper, and James couldn't punish him for that. Vesper didn't represent all other omegas everywhere, and he couldn't punish them for her either. Alec had been right when he'd said that being a double-0 taught you a lot of things, but it also taught you that you couldn't condemn an entire group of people based on what one person did. They saw the worst of humanity on a daily basis, so it was completely illogical - and even stupid - to assume that the rest of humanity was just as bad.
Q had not only proven his worth, his intelligence, his loyalty; he'd also proven just how different he was from other omegas.
Being the Quartermaster of MI6 proved that alone, and James felt himself smirk at the thought of the rest of the world finding out that an omega had been given such a high position in the British government. He defied all expectations and then some, but not just as an omega, but as a person, too.
Q had managed to get him out of more than a few scrapes with nothing to help him other than his cleverness and pure undying stubbornness. It was obvious that pup was good at his job, the best at his job, and the fact that he was an omega didn't come into that.
And if Millicent logic-is-my-middle-name Osmund had deemed him not a liability, then what was James' excuse?
Q was even able to throw off his compulsion, something which Bond had never seen any omega do before.
Not even Vesper, not that he'd tried of course, but why else would she have remained so loyal to the heartless bastard using her if she wasn't being compelled to?
The closest he'd ever seen any omega shake off a command was almost a decade ago, when he and Fortier had been sent in undercover to take down a sex trafficking ring. The man had been oddly… out of sorts for that entire mission, although he still refused to explain why.
In the end, they'd managed to successfully dispose of the alphas running the ring, but one of the omegas, in a fit of what Bond could only assume was stockholm syndrome, had grabbed one of her captor's guns and pointed it at Fortier. Her hands had been trembling, eyes wild and anxious, and the last thing James wanted to do was make things worse, but Duncan wasn't moving. Instead, he was staring at the omega, his own gaze wide and almost unseeing, as he made no move to either disarm her or save himself.
So Bond compelled her to drop the weapon.
And she… struggled.
Her hands lowered but then raised again, her head shaking back and forth as if trying to shake off some invisible chains, her entire body shaking as she somehow managed to fight off the compulsion, if only for a moment, before the words finally seemed to sink in and she dropped the gun with a clatter.
James still didn't know how she'd managed to do it, but if he had to guess… well. That many years under that many compulsions should, theoretically, make them lose their effectiveness. There had never been a documented case of one omega being compelled that often, because it was such a serious crime, such a horrifying transgression, that even psychopaths like the double-0s tried to avoid using compulsions at all costs.
But if that omega had become ever-so-slightly immune after three years of daily commands… then what did that say about Q?
Q, who managed to not only struggle against his command, but completely disobey it. Q, who didn't even start to obey the compelling of such a powerful alpha. Q, who took less than a single second to shake off the compulsion and fight back.
Q, who still flinched at sudden movements and loud noises.
… James didn't like what his mind was implying.
But if Q had such a horrible past, if the pup really had lived under the control of an abusive domineering asshole for more than a few years, and yet he still worked side-by-side - and even befriended- the double-0s…
Then James really had no excuse for how he'd acted, now had he?
The cut on his lip stung with every sip of cheap alcohol, the back of his neck and hands were burned from the unforgiving Mexican sun, and his arms ached from holding up the sniper's rifle for seventeen, eighteen hours a day.
Although-
Speaking of the sniper's rifle…
That actually gave him an idea.
Three days later, and only one pub-brawl-with-the-target-in-an-act-of-self-defence later, and James was back in London. He was bruised and bloody and wearing a slightly singed suit, but he ignored the doctors fluttering around him and brushed off Eve's questions and M's demands for a report, and instead made his way to TSS-
No.
To Q branch, making a quick detour past his office along the way.
He entered the lab and paused for a moment, both to allow the scared little boffins to realise he was there, but also to block out their scents and instead focus on-
There.
Allowing his nose to lead him, James followed the familiar warm scent of omega, through the desks and computers and glaring minions, until he finally spied a mass of curls hunched over a dismantled handgun and what looked like old-fashioned circuit boards.
He walked with a determined stride despite the dirty looks that everyone was giving him, and as he passed R, she very deliberately held up both hands; a taser in one, and her phone in the other, her finger posed directly above speed-dial one which he knew from experience led straight to M's office.
He nodded at her, once.
Message received.
James made a circling loop so as to not approach Q from behind, and as a result, he could pinpoint the exact moment that the omega realised just who was heading his way. His shoulders momentarily tensed, long eyelashes flickering as he fought the urge to look up, before he forced himself to relax once more.
Bond couldn't help but be impressed by his level of control.
Ignoring the incredibly obvious glances from everyone else in the branch, he stopped in front of the work desk and gently placed a familiar brown folder on top of it, the front cover folded back to reveal the taped-up report inside.
Q stared at it for a minute, blinked, and then finally looked up, confused baby blues staring back at him, guarded and almost apprehensive.
James maintained that eye contact as he very carefully and very very deliberately placed every single piece of equipment he'd been given on top of the folder, not a single scratch, dent, or scuff mark on anything.
Q glanced down at them, the corner of his mouth briefly twitching up, before giving a single nod and turning back to his work.
It was like a balloon had popped, as across the lab everyone gave silent sighs of relief and returned to their own computers and tinkering. James knew that he wasn't forgiven yet, nor had he been expecting the pup's forgiveness so early and so easily. He also knew that it wasn't even a fraction of what was needed to make up for his actions, but at least it was a start, and as he made his way back through the lab, he felt marginally lighter.
Four hours later, after a trip to M's office, a trip to medical, and a trip back to his own office, James was finally able to return home. He paused with his hand above the keypad to their apartment, wondering if Alec had changed the code out of spite, before realising-
No, actually, if Alec was truly mad, then he'd have left the code alone and would be waiting just inside the door to surprise attack him with fire and knives instead.
Pressing the buttons on the keypad, Bond entered the dark flat, kicking his shoes off at the door and throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair as he made his way to the kitchen, no surprise attack in sight.
He bypassed the floor-to-ceiling rack of alcohol and pulled open a small corner press instead, pouring himself a shot of vodka from the cheap stuff that his partner used to hide the expensive stuff behind. He downed it in one go, just enough to take the edge off, and then replaced the bottle.
As James closed the kitchen press, he heard soft footsteps behind him and- really, he didn't even deserve the warning, but he was grateful for it all the same.
Taking a deep breath, he turned, and found Alec staring back at him from the doorway, a scowl on his face and his stance aggressive. His stern image was slightly ruined, however, by the pillow he was clutching to his chest.
"R called" he said without a greeting, "Said Q finally went home today".
"Good" he replied, and he meant it, too.
"You're forgiven then?"
"I'm… getting there".
"Alright". Alec tossed the pillow at his head. "But you're still sleeping on the fucking couch".
"Fair enough".
Switching on the kettle, James tossed the pillow on the leather sofa while he waited for it to boil. Fetching blankets from the hall cupboard, he made up a bed for himself before returning to the kitchen and-
Alec was halfway through making two cups of tea already.
He frowned.
"Has our kettle always been that fast?"
"No". His partner snorted, fetching a teaspoon. "Q messed around with it and sped things up. Do you still trust drinking from it?"
"... Okay, I deserved that" he admitted, "I didn't know that the Quartermaster had ever been to our apartment, though".
"There's a lot you don't know James, especially where Q is concerned".
"I know". He pulled a carton of milk from the fridge. "And I'm… willing to listen, now. If you still want to tell me".
Alec said nothing, but took the bottle from him without a scowl or a knife between the ribs, so James guessed that he probably wouldn't be murdered in his sleep tonight.
Probably.
They finished making the tea in silence, and when he returned to his bed for the night, his partner followed him, taking a seat in one of the armchairs instead of on the leather couch. It was a good five minutes before he spoke again.
"Q saved my life".
James blinked, surprised.
"He what?"
"He saved my life" Alec repeated, staring down into his far-too-pale cup of tea. "My op in Cuba ended about a month after you left, but… well, let's just say I didn't exactly get away clean".
"You're favouring your left side".
"Right wrist is sprained, and I got clipped a few times when I was getting out… But I was also drugged. This new invention of Ourumovs, it's a bioweapon. Has a hundred-and-one chemicals and hormones in it, apparently, but the main one is testosterone. It… causes alphas to go into a rage for a few hours, and then their body shuts down. Like suicide bombers, but… alphas".
James felt himself tense up despite the fact his partner was currently sitting directly across from him, safe and sound. He knew, obviously, that the drug hadn't killed Alec, but if the drug was meant to kill all those who came into contact with it, and if he had been drugged, then-
"How?"
"Q".
"He found a cure?"
Alec snorted. "Oh боже no. Medical has been working on one of those for months and they still have no results. As smart as he is, Q definitely does not have the right university degrees for that".
"But he still managed to save you?"
"... The extraction team sedated me in Havana, and I stayed out of it until we made it back to England. And then the rage hit" he continued quietly, "M put me in a holding cell, and I tried to kill everyone who came in… Except Q".
Alec finally looked up at him, pinning him in place with his sea-green eyes.
"He saved my life, James. Because he was an omega, not in spite of it. If hadn't done that, if- if he hadn't walked into that room, despite the fact he knew that I could kill him just like that, then that drug would have killed me. And he didn't even know that his scent would work! He was risking his life on- on a hunch. A gut feeling. Just to save a glorified assassin… And you ask me how I can trust him?"
James swallowed thickly, and took another sip of cooling tea to hide it.
"... I didn't know".
"Would your response have changed? Last week, in the gym, when you met Q again. Would you have treated him any differently, if you had known?"
It was a pointless question; they both knew that the answer was no, and Alec was at least gracious enough to not make him admit it out loud.
"You were excited, James, when I suggested that we go find him that day. You were… You looked happy. Happier than I've seen you look in a long while. You wanted to see him again".
"I did".
"Why?"
"Because… Because I liked him. Like him" he corrected, "He's… interesting".
"He is" Alec replied evenly, "But you like a lot of people. Alexis, Saif, Charlie, even R".
"Oh please, we all know that you're her real favourite".
The joke fell flat.
"What's so different about Q?"
James sighed and went to take another sip of tea to buy himself some time, only to find that the cup was empty. He placed it on the coffee table in front of him, annoyed.
"Look, you said it yourself. He's… a challenge. He's not afraid to stand up to us, he's not afraid of us in general. He's smart, sharp, and probably the most sarcastic person I've ever met. He's…"
"Interesting" Alec finished, "... Do you like him more than just like?"
"Do you?" he challenged.
They both stared at each other, seemingly at an impasse, but James knew that it was up to him to make an effort right now.
"I was going to introduce you, once you returned" he admitted quietly, "I knew you would love him. How couldn't you? He's… Q. But then Nine Eyes happened, and MI6 had to rebuild itself, and I had to get Madeleine somewhere safe. And when I came back…"
"You realised that he wasn't an alpha. That he was an omega".
"... Yeah".
"Have your feelings… changed? Now that you know he's an omega?"
And that really was the question, wasn't it? Only seven days previous, James wouldn't have hesitated to say yes, even if he simultaneously knew that he would have been lying to himself. But now, after a week of nothing to do but think in a desert with no distractions, he'd had to come to terms with his own emotions, and more specifically, with his attitude and opinions surrounding omegas.
Surrounding Q.
He took a deep breath and slowly released it.
"... No".
"Well then". Alec shrugged. "What do you plan on doing about it?"
"What can I do about it?"
"You can apologise, for a start. Although today was a good start, if Q finally went home again. But you're going to have to do a hell of a lot more to earn his forgiveness".
"I know".
"And even more again if you ever plan on becoming his friend". Alec paused and gave him an unreadable look. "Unless, of course, this is just another conquest for you, and not something serious".
"It's serious" he immediately replied, "I'm serious. It's just… difficult".
"You hold far more power over him than he could ever hope to have over you".
Which James knew. Logically. But emotionally…
"It doesn't feel that way".
Alec slowly nodded, accepting that much at least, before draining the rest of his tea and putting his own mug on the coffee table too. After another moment of consideration, he stood up.
"Apologise. Work on earning his trust. And regain his friendship. After that… we'll see what happens next".
James nodded, watching as his partner grabbed both of their cups, bringing them back to the kitchen before heading down to their bedroom. As he passed the sitting room door, however, he paused, and glanced back at him.
"Well? Are you coming to bed or not?"
He quickly stood up, not risking giving the blond enough time to change his mind, and followed him down the hall.
It might have just been another ploy to access his ribs more easily for stabbing, but James liked to think that it was Alec's own way of saying that he'd forgiven him instead. Either way, it didn't matter. Either he wouldn't wake up tomorrow morning, in which case his partner had decided to choose Q over him, or else he would wake up...
And they would work on getting Q to choose them, together.