“I rewind the tape but all it does is pause, on the very moment all went wrong.”
There was one moment Q always came back to in his dreams. The moment when the elevator doors dinged in the early morning, and Q looked up to see Bond standing there, hand in pocket. And Q knew, knew that this was it, and all Q could do was push the corner of his mouth up into a smile.
Q opened his eyes to the foggy light of the London morning. Eyes blinking drowsily. He inhaled and a deep feeling settled into his chest.
Heavy.
One deep breath. One long exhale.
Q stared up at the blurry ceiling, the feeling burrowed in further. He ran a hand through the mop of hair on his head. He pulled his fingers through the strands in a futile attempt to detangle them. He frowned up at the blurry white of the ceiling. Off the top of his head Q couldn’t remember what day it was or where he was supposed to be this morning. All Q knew was the ache in his chest and the deep seated longing for what almost was. Q rolled over into the empty space beside him. He pressed his face into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. The darkness did little to ease the feeling of loneliness that had come from staring up at the empty ceiling. Instead memories began to crop up.
Memories of lingering glances. Memories of quick remarks over comms. Memories of Bond coming into Q branch with a kitschy souvenir and a fresh cup of earl grey in apology for whatever equipment hadn’t made it back. These creeped in through the cracks in the wall Q had built to trap the memories behind. He didn’t attempt to stop them. He let the memories stay a while in the forefront of his mind. Any memory was better than the final one. The one that had punched a hole in his gut, and stained all the other memories.
Bond in the stripped suit. Bond who had disappeared for two weeks after the incident at Westminster. Whose file marked: RETIRED in bold indisputable red letters. And no, Q did not stare at those letters willing them change at least once a day. But he had strolled into to Q’s lair in the early hours of the morning.
And Q had hoped. Hoped that Bond was back. That Bond hadn’t just walked away from whatever it was that they had been building.
“There’s just one thing I need”
Those words had undone everything.
They rang in Q’s head and he squeezed his eyes tighter. It was no use. He was stuck watching the memory play out in his head. He could hear himself tell Bond that the car was ready. That he added a few extra things. He could hear the jingle of the keys as he handed them over, dropping them into Bond’s awaiting hand to avoid any physical contact.
Q watched as the memory of Bond walking away faded.
Almost a whole year ago, Q would do Bond what he had thought was the last favor he would ever ask of him. He handed the agent the keys to his beloved Aston Martin, road off into the sunset with his beautiful Dr. Swann and went on to live the normal life he had never thought he would be able to have. That’s what Q had at least thought.
Almost a whole year ago, Q’s entire world changed, too. He was heartbroken and lost. But most of all he was angry. Q initially hated Bond for using him. After awhile, Q started to hate himself for letting Bond use him, because he should have known better than to fall in love with double-o-seven. He had told himself he had control over whatever arrangement was going on between them. That arrangement being sex, sometimes stitches and the occasional witty banter over a drink. But in the aftermath of things, it was clear he didn’t have control in the slightest. Q had fallen for James Bond. Despite the various warnings from Eve and his own subconscious, despite the lengths of time Bond would disappear, despite the feelings of jealousy he had fought back after knowing he was sleeping with other people. But Bond had never promised Q anything. They had never even been on a ‘proper date.’ Q didn’t have the right to be angry with Bond. He could only blame his own bloody self. And Q did blame himself.
Almost a whole year ago, Q thought he had said goodbye to James Bond forever. But there Bond was, again. Standing before his desk, like he had so many times before. Except things had not been anything like the way they had been before.
Q could feel his chest tighten and his heart lurch up into his throat at the sight of Bond. He had to look back down at the laptop screen, even though he couldn’t focus on what was displayed. His body was beginning to betray him and he wasn’t even in love with James Bond anymore. He really wasn’t. In the most even tone he could manage, he said, “Well… how did she run? The car, I mean.” Q attempted to sound aloof, but couldn’t control the coldness that had slipped into his voice.
Hi there! Do you happen to know of a post-spectre 00q fic where Bond leaves the Skyfall estate to Q and Q renovates it while Bond is gone? I remember reading it once, but I can't for the life of me remember the title or which one it is.
Skyfall Lodge Headcanon/Ficlet by AtoTheBean
Q is essentially a problem solver... and hoo boy does he have a problem with this.
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i know the estate isnt exactly bequeathed to q in this one, but this was the first fic that came to mind when i read your ask. it's super cute too, and i definitely recommend giving it a read
His flat is too large and opened for him to enjoy it. James decided to go to a random art auction and bought gaudy pictures just so the flat didn't look like an office...or a prison cell. However, the pictures and paintings just leaned against the wall, ready to be placed on the empty walls but he never gets around to doing it. Instead, about twenty thousand pounds worth of art sits on his floor instead. He at least bought a comfortable armchair and couch, knowing that he still hadn't bought a bed so the couch would do. The room that was supposed to be his bedroom at least has a decent closet so he had a place to put his expensive suits and other various clothing. The tv stand still needs to be set up but the large flat screen is nestled in the corner of the flat, already set up with the blu-ray player right next to it while the tv stand was nestled happily in the ikea box that it came in. That's when he got the parcel from M; the old M, his M. Whatever he had to do to make his flat home would have to wait. Then again, this wasn't home; it never was. It was just a space that he liked to call his own.
Q would come over and they would drink together silently. James and Q went through a lot during Skyfall so they would drink, maybe fuck on the floor [the rug was a nice touch, James thought], and then it would be the end of it. Nothing personal, just two fuck buddies together, get out some tension and it would good for both of them. Sometimes Q would leave his shirts here or his laptop bag but James didn't mind, something personal in an impersonal space.
When Moneypenny came into his flat, she noted how sparse his flat was. He didn't care, it was a place for him to rest that wasn't at MI6 and drink in peace. He didn't need to have a home that was personal because he wouldn't be alive long enough to see it decorated nicely. He was dead set on dying out in the field with a warrior's death; all 00 agents died out in the field. No personal effects meant that everything would be distributed back into a goodwill or some crap and it didn't bother him. Nothing these days bothered him anymore until he went to Rome and then it went to shit.
After the fall of Spectre and Blofeld, Maddy moved into the flat with him almost immediately. James didn't mind but when he opened the door to his flat, he noticed how empty his flat truly was. She tutted at the state and immediately ordered a bed when she found out he didn't even have one. James rolled his eyes and let her walk around his flat. She looked at the pictures and tutted again. James fixed himself a drink while she moved around as if thinking where things were going to go.
The next day, Q came to the flat and brought a camera. Maddy smiled in thanks and James realized that there was more to this relationship than he thought. Maybe Q always wanted something more and maybe James could finally be able to give it to him. He gave Maddy half of his heart maybe he could give the other half to Q. Q moved his things into the flat within a few hours. James came to terms that his flat went from one occupant to three within the year and he didn't know how he felt about that.
James looked around his flat one day and noticed that the tv stand was now set up and the flat screen actually looked better eye level than on the ground. The kitchen actually had pots and pans for cooking and the fridge was actually full of food. There were bookshelves with books and the coffee table was littered with psychology magazines and mugs. The rug he originally got for his flat was replaced by a different rug and it actually felt nice on his feet. The couch and arm chair still spotted the flat but they were moved in a way where if need be, people could watch tv comfortably. The windows were now shaded by white curtains that billowed in the wind when the windows were opened. The single lamp that he had in the living room was now replaced with four other lamps to illuminate the large living room better than before. James scratched his head and began to wonder when did this happen?
James noticed that there were more personal effects lying about his flat; like Maddy's shoes all over the place or toys from Q's cats. Cats! He had bloody cats in his goddamn flat. Q's laptops were all over the flat [why did he need like four of them? Christ] as well as bits of wires and cables. James still had a place to clean his weapon at least. James then found a litterbox and two cats running about, chasing a miniature BB-8 from that Star Wars movie; Q. James shook his head when he walked past one of many bookshelves that littered a more furnished flat and saw a picture of Maddy and her father. Then, right next to it was picture of him when he was young with Oberhauser and... James blinked as he stared at the picture from a past he never thought would come back to him. James tutted as he continued on, but not before he turned the bulldog figurine a little to the right so it was able to survey the entire room from its spot on the massive bookshelf.
When the three weren't in the flat, Maddy took pictures with the camera Q brought. Pictures of them in the park or speckled spots all over London. Hell, she even took some pictures of Skyfall when James had to make the drive to talk to Kincade about the land. Soon, James saw, those pictures began to litter the walls. James woke up one morning before the two of them and saw that the gaudy art pictures he bought so long ago were no longer in the house. James walked around the flat and saw on the walls that weren't hidden by bookshelves, tv stands, or whatever were pictures of the three of them. James stopped at one of the walls, the one closest to the kitchen to see a collage of sorts of pictures of the three of them together or them individually. James shifted on his feet and crossed his arms. There were more pictures of him here than there were at Skyfall. He didn't know what to think of it other than...
