Pandora's Box
Much to Q's chagrin, the double-0s managed to successfully convince him to stay at home the next day - or, at least, to stay at James and Alec's home, but given that they both smelled like home, it didn't make much difference. On Tuesday morning, however, he put his foot down, and a very sulky pack followed him into MI6 bright and early.
He still felt somewhat jittery, although thankfully it was nowhere near as bad as before, and the itch beneath his skin was starting to fade as well. He still kept the bandages wrapped around his arms just in case, and wore his thickest sweater too after making a quick diversion to his flat to feed the cats and, you know, actually wear his own clothes.
He was already going to get hell from R about spending the weekend with the double-0s; he didn't like to think what would happen should he show up to work in their clothes, too.
The long sleeves covered the bandages on his arms, he didn't feel half as exhausted or unsteady as the day before, and the scent of strange alphas wasn't sending him into a spiral anymore either. In fact, the only evidence left behind from Friday night was the still-fading bruise on his face.
Bruises that Silvia's gaze immediately latched onto, as she turned to greet him with a smile when he stepped into his branch Tuesday morning.
"Ouch" she hissed in sympathy, "You know, boss, when I told you last Friday to get some, I didn't mean for you to get in a fight".
"Trust me" Q replied dryly, "It wasn't planned".
"Isn't this the part where you're supposed to say 'you should see the other guy'?"
"It would be" he agreed, "If the double-0s had left any of the other guy behind to see".
"... So he's-"
"Dead" he confirmed, "Very, very dead".
"Ah".
Silvia didn't seem to know how to respond to that, and he didn't blame her. Time to change the subject then.
"Did anything out of the ordinary happen here Friday night?"
"Aside from you getting all glammed up, you mean?"
Q raised a solitary eyebrow at her and she immediately caved with a cheeky smirk.
"Nope! Not a thing. R arrived on time and took over and we've been switching on and off command over the past few days. I take it you're here to stay?"
"Until the next disaster strikes".
She flashed him a grin. "Well, hopefully, it won't strike tomorrow, because that's my night off".
"Don't worry, Ms Johnson, disaster or not, HR would have my head if I didn't allow you PTO, and quite frankly, it isn't worth the paperwork".
"Good to know".
"Q!"
He turned at the familiar voice, only to find R striding towards him, her dark eyes already filled with anger and concern. He quickly glanced back at Silvia.
"Leave anything I need to sign on my desk, alright?"
"You got it, boss".
"Who did it?" R demanded as she reached him. Q gave her an innocent smile. "Who did what, my lovely-"
"Don't fuck with me, Quartermaster!" she snapped, "Which double-0 do I need to taser? Was it Bond? I bet it was Bond. That bloody-"
"It wasn't Bond!" he interrupted loudly, "It was none of them, R, I promise. A… stranger just got a bit too friendly with me and it was the double-0s who sorted him out".
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"... It wasn't the double-0s?"
"It wasn't the double-0s".
"... Alright. Fine" she finally replied, before holding up a thick manilla folder, "Just as well, I guess, 'cause I've got a new mission for you".
That drew him up short.
"... A mission?"
"Yep".
"A double-0 mission?"
"A double-0 mission" R confirmed, "Straight from the Prime Minister himself".
Q automatically grimaced and she laughed, steering him towards her desk in the middle of the branch.
"Yeah, that was more or less my reaction too when M told me. Orders came in Sunday night and I've managed to delay them since, but the PM's office is getting angsty without a response".
"You just don't want to deal with all the paperwork".
"That, and I don't know the double-0s even a fraction as well as you do - which is not a compliment, by the way - so I wasn't sure who to send" R replied, sitting down and gesturing for him to pull up a chair as well, "Also, every single one of the double-0s apparently got struck with the same mysterious illness as you did, so even if I did know who to send, they weren't exactly here to follow orders anyway".
She gave the bruise on his cheek another, rather pointed look but he didn't take the bait, and instead reached out for the folder still in her hands.
"Summarise it for me?"
"Undercover protection detail, more or less. According to '5, it should be a simple one. Quick and easy, in and out".
He gave her a dry look. "And how many times have we heard that one before?"
"... Fair enough". She gestured at the file. "The UN is sending a few delegates out to Mozambique in light of the recent conflicts between government forces and insurgents. The Prime Minister 'volunteered' apparently, along with the new British High Commissioner, to provide 'support' and 'maintain and strengthen' bilateral relations between the United Kingdom and Mozambique".
He could practically hear the quotation marks as she rolled her eyes.
"Basically, it's just another all-talk-no-action speech as part of a United Nations bullshit goodwill tour".
"It said that in the official report, did it?"
"Well… I mean, I might be paraphrasing a little".
Q couldn't fight back a smile.
"Alright, so the PM is going to Mozambique and he wants one of our guys for protection - but what about MI5? Doesn't this still come under their jurisdiction?"
"Pretty much, yeah. They're still going to do the bulk of security, but they're also being quite obvious about it. The PM wants us to take a more… subtle approach".
"In other words, '5 doesn't want to risk their own men any more than necessary and think that the double-0s are expendable".
"Got it in one".
Q sighed and glanced down at the folder in his hands. As much as he would absolutely love to tell MI5 and the PM both to kindly fuck off, he also knew that a lot of his job revolved around politics, and there were certain people - such as the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom - that he couldn't refuse to help.
"... Mozambique, you said?"
"Mozambique" R confirmed, "Specifically, Pemba, which is the provincial capital of Cabo Delgado, up north. It's only meant to be a day trip - after the speeches are finished, the PM will be moving on to Tanzania, where he'll likely give the exact same speech about unity and equality and strengthening ties with local communities and all the rest of that bullshit".
"Cynical much?"
"Only a little". She smirked. "Anyway, the point is, MI5 will be providing security on the day, but they want to send someone in undercover beforehand. There's concern about al-Shabaab, an Islamist militant group, forming an attack. Their numbers have dwindled in recent years but the PM doesn't want to take any chances so they want us to send in an agent to find out what the word is on the street. The US labelled them as a terrorist group a few years back and they're all about traditionalism, so a white protestant Leader of the Free World showing up isn't exactly going to impress them much".
"They want a sleeper" Q realised, thoughts already racing ahead, "And this is happening when?"
"Next Wednesday. That's why they're so anxious for us to send out someone immediately - they're going to need all the time they can get to find an in with the militants".
He flipped open the cover of the folder and quickly skimmed through the fact sheet inside. Pemba was indeed the capital of Cabo Delgado, which had been colonised by the Portuguese a century before. He'd need to send someone who could speak the local language, but his only fluent Portuguese speaker was Duncan - which would, technically, make him the best choice… but he was also white. And aggressive. And not exactly what one would call a people person.
His only other viable option was Jake. He'd certainly have an easier time blending in, even if he didn't speak a word of the country's official language. He did, however, speak Swahili, which would get him by in many places, and he was the most human of the pack so building up the necessary relationships with the locals wouldn't be much of an issue either.
But who to choose...
"... Right. Leave it with me, and I'll have an agent for you by the end of the day" Q finally decided, standing up, "And email me the equipment list, would you? I'll prioritise that so we can send someone out as soon as possible".
Taking the metal stairs that led up to his office two at a time, he grimaced when he remembered that his Scrabble mug was still missing, and his taser was still in the workshop below, waiting to be fixed. He still had to track down Bill sometime today too, as well as catch up with all his previous work, and now he had to deal with a stupid political bullshit mission from the PM - and it wasn't even nine yet!
Distracted as he was, he didn't realise that someone was already sitting in his office chair until they turned his desk light on with a click.
"Hello, Q".
He flung the folder at them.
"Holy fuck!"
Eve raised a solitary eyebrow as the loose pages scattered around them, looking terribly unimpressed.
"Cute".
Still clutching one hand over his heart, he scowled at her fiercely.
"What the actual hell Eve?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Why the fuck would you sit there in the dark like some sort of- of movie villain?!"
"Well, I had originally planned to sit with my back facing the door and spin around to face you all dramatic-like when you finally walked in, but then I remembered that your chair doesn't spin".
She tapped perfectly manicured nails against the chair's wooden arms as proof, and his glare only darkened.
"My chair doesn't spin because you stole it from me!"
"Hey, I won that bet fair and square!"
"You cheated!"
"All's fair in love and war, sweet cheeks!"
"You-" He stopped, briefly closed his eyes, and then took a deep, calming breath. "Up. Now. Please".
Thankfully, she did as told, and he quickly took a seat behind his desk and tapped his monitor screen to wake it up. Even more thankfully, the messaging app that the pack used had a desktop version, and he quickly typed out a message before sending it and turning back to Eve who was, bless her, picking back up the mission file he'd dropped everywhere.
"So. Now that we've established that you're a dramatic movie villain, why are you here?"
"We haven't seen each other in four days, and that's how you greet me?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe I would've been a bit more receptive if you had knocked on my office door like a normal person!" he snapped, "Also, follow up question, how the hell did you even get in here?!"
"One of you minions let me in" she replied, as calm as ever, "The cute one. Beta, I think".
Silvia. No wonder she'd been smirking at him this morning, the absolute traitor.
"Alright, fine, whatever. Now why are you here?"
Placing the stack of papers on his desk, she pinned him in place with a dark gaze.
"I wanted to… comment, shall we say? about how truly remarkable it was that all of the double-0s plus you got sick, and then got better, at the exact same time".
"... I-"
"Save me your excuses, Q, I don't believe in miracles".
Eve gave him a look and he felt his resolve immediately crumble.
"... We weren't sick".
"Thanks for stating the obvious, idiot. What happened?"
"I'm fine, alright? I promise. There was just this asshole at the club who got a little too grabby and I was drunk and exhausted and I just… I just panicked, alright? That's it".
Eve studied him carefully. "Alright, I believe you... but something else happened too, didn't it?"
"... Yeah".
"And you're not going to tell me that part, are you?"
"Also yeah".
Eve slowly nodded, her pecan-coloured eyes inscrutable before-
"Was it one of the double-0s?"
"Was what one of the-"
"Q".
He let out a heavy breath.
"No, Miss Moneypenny, it was not one of the double-0s who gave me this lovely patchwork of bruises. But rest assured, they… handled it. Thoroughly".
"How thoroughly?"
"Very".
"... Alright" she repeated, "So I'm just going to assume that everything that happened was at least three hundred per cent worse than what you're telling me because you're you and you tend to downplay everything... but if you say that the double-0s handled it-"
"Very thoroughly".
"-then I'll let it be. Did you tell M?"
"God no!"
His computer beeped, and he glanced over at it.
Q: 3 & 4, my office, 10 minutes 8:36am
SF: ooh some1's in trouble ;) 8:41am
DF: so will your breathing be if you dont shut up 8:42am
JW: on our way 8:42am
It didn't surprise Q that they were currently somewhere in the building together, even if they weren't together together just yet, and he really needed to do something about that soon as well, now didn't he?
"Earth to Quartermaster!"
He blinked and quickly turned back to face Eve.
"Sorry, uh, you were saying?"
She rolled her eyes at him but it was more so in amusement exasperation than any true annoyance.
"You just spent the entire weekend plus yesterday with that bunch of idiots, and you're already texting them?"
"Uh, excuse you! This just so happens to be work-related!"
"Sure it is. You know, I think I'm actually starting to see what R is worried about. You somehow managed, against all odds, to collar the nine most dangerous creatures on this planet, and yet you treat them like they're actually sane!"
"They are sane!" he immediately protested, "Or at least they're as sane as I am!"
"That doesn't exactly help your case, Q".
"Well then, need I remind you that you're currently doing a hell of a lot worse than texting a current double-0?"
To her credit, Eve didn't so much as blush, although she did look away with just a hint of embarrassment in her eyes.
"There's a difference between physical and emotional relationships, Q. What Edie and I have is very much the former. What you and the rest of that lot have is… I don't know, but it's definitely dangerous, and eventually, someone's going to get hurt".
"And because I'm the frail, innocent, little omega, it's going to be me? Is that it?!"
"No! Of course not! You know I don't give a single fuck about your dynamic, Q! But you have to admit that you're far more- more- more human than the lot of them put together! You're the one who's going to end up hurt because you're the one who's actually capable of feeling!"
It still wasn't even nine-fucking-am.
"With all due respect, Miss Moneypenny - which, currently, is very little - you're wrong about them" he replied, in as calm a tone he could manage, "Yes, they're wired differently. Yes, they don't necessarily feel things the exact same way that you do. And yes, they are beyond dangerous and I probably am absolutely ridiculous to befriend creatures like them - but that doesn't mean that I'm wrong for doing so. They're my pack. They're my family… and if you can't see that, then that's your problem, not mine".
Her expression softened, and he knew that he didn't imagine the flash of guilt in her eyes.
"... I just don't want to see you get hurt" Eve finally replied, "You've had enough of that already since coming here, and the double-0s… well, they're not exactly known for their careful handling of things. I don't want this to end badly for you".
"It's not going to" he promised, giving her a faint smile, "I'm one of them, remember? We understand each other in a way that's definitely never happened for me before, and likely hasn't happened for them, either. They're… mine".
"... You really are ridiculous, you know".
"I know".
"I mean, honestly! Who the hell looks at a feral mountain lion and thinks 'oh, I can probably tame that!'"
"I know, Eve".
"And then just- follows that mountain lion back to an entire pride of mountain lions and then thinks 'oh yeah, no, I can totally domesticate this entire pack of vicious lethal wild creatures! Oh! And is that a grizzly bear? And a wolf? And a crocodile? Let's go see if I can pet them!'"
"I know, Eve!"
"Do you? Do you really? Because honestly, Q, I don't think you have any idea of what you've just done. You just spent the past three days surrounded by sharks and tigers and- and- and scorpions and-"
"Wait, who's the scorpion?"
"It's a metaphor, Q!"
There was a knock on the door, and Eve gave a somewhat hysterical laugh.
"Oh great! There's the scorpions now!"
"Actually, those two are more like grizzly bears" he admitted, pressing the unlock button, "Or, at least one of them is, anyway. The other one is far more subtle".
The door swung open silently as Duncan and Jake stepped in, the former giving Eve a distrusting scowl while the latter simply smiled pleasantly.
"... I can tell which one's cuddly".
"Good day, Miss Moneypenny" he replied rather pointedly, and she rolled her eyes at him one last time for good measure, before carefully sidestepping the double-0s and leaving.
"What's up, brat?"
As usual, Duncan cut straight to the point, so Q gestured at the folder in front of him.
"I've got a mission for one of you. You'll both have advantages and challenges to face over the other, so I'll leave it up to you two to decide who goes".
Jake obediently reached out and picked up the dossier, flicking through it slowly.
"Long story short, the PM and a few other higher-ups are due in Mozambique next Wednesday to give a speech. MI5 has got their side of things covered, but they want us to send in someone undercover a week early to make sure there's no plot or threat or what have you conspiring against the peace talks. Interested?"
Both alphas glanced at each other and appeared to have some sort of silent conversation for a minute before Jake suddenly turned back to him.
"What's the weather like?"
"Twenty-nine and sunny".
"I'll do it".
"Like hell you will!" Duncan snapped, "You just got back from Gibraltar, and I deserve some fucking sun as well!"
"It's not my fault you chose to go to Siberia!"
"I didn't choose to go to Siberia, fucking Trevelyan chose for me!"
"Well, then, I didn't choose for you to go to Moscow!" he shot back, "And don't forget, I picked your injured ass up in Seville!"
"Uh, yeah! Right after you spent an entire fucking month in Gibraltar!"
"I'm Rwandan! I need the heat!"
"You grew up in Southwark!"
"I'll fit in better!"
"I speak Portuguese!"
"I speak Swahili!"
"I've done more undercover ops!"
"As a black man?"
"I… I, uh… Fuck! I can-"
"-not do this job as well as I can? I agree". Jake turned back to Q with a grin. "I'll do it".
"... Right" he eventually replied, bemused, "Okay then. Well, the mission file is yours. You have the rest of today and tomorrow to memorise it, and I'll have your equipment ready before Wednesday evening. You'll be leaving bright and early Thursday morning, which will give you approximately six days on the ground. As soon as the PM's speech is done, so are you, and I'll have you on the next flight home".
"Understood, mukundwa".
He gave Q one last bright smile, shot a victorious look at Duncan, and then spun on his heels to leave - with the other alpha immediately following suit, still trying to convince him to hand the file over.
Shaking his head at their antics, Q turned back to his computer and reluctantly pulled up his emails. As predicted, he had well over a hundred to get through, but he ignored the older messages in favour of his most recent, trying to find R's email about the equipment Jake would need.
Instead, he found a message from Edie, with the subject title "club cctv footage".
Q froze.
He'd well and truly scolded her for hacking into Euphoria's website Sunday night, but after confirming that she'd emailed him the camera feed she'd found, he'd put the matter out of his mind.
Until now.
Holding his breath, he clicked on it and downloaded the file entitled fri_may_20 to his machine. Opening his own personal facial recognition software, he re-uploaded the video to it and clicked run.
Skimming through the dozens of results, ignoring the nameless strangers who stared back at him, he searched for that one name that he was looking for. The double-0s appeared, one by one, his software listing their names and status - Edith King (active), Jacob Williams (active), Charles Blair (active) - while his own face returned a red warning message - unknown - until finally he reached...
Hans Mortner (wanted)
Q slowly sat back in his chair and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths.
It really had been him, then, and it sure as hell wasn't a coincidence he knew Q would be at that club. But how on earth did he know? Did he follow them from outside '6? But they'd been searching for Mortner for weeks without success so he couldn't have been so close by - not unless he'd been hidden by someone very good at hiding things, but he didn't have those connections or else he'd never have been hired at MI6 first day.
So what the hell had led him there?
The computer dinged as the email from R came through, with a rather lengthy equipment list attached, just as the clock turned nine and his "official" work day began.
Q knew that he needed to figure out where Mortner had been hiding for the past two months, as well as just who the hell he knew that had enough resources to hide him from MI6 - but he also had an agent to equip and reports to sign and three whole days of work to catch up on and-
Mortner was dead.
Mortner was dead and he couldn't hurt him anymore, so he should be the least of Q's concerns.
Screenshotting the recognition software results, he emailed the image to himself before shutting it down. He had far more important things to work on right now.