The road is longest when the need is the most.
Bond knew this from experience. Chasing Vesper in Venice still brought a strange sense of suspended panic, like when trying to run in a dream. Nothing ever moves fast enough, but if they don’t…
Cursing under his breath, Bond pressed harder on the gas pedal, trying to urge the car forward. He knew of a safe house nearby, and he was sure he’d lost any possible tails. They were alone now, surrounded on either side of the road by snow-covered trees. In the fading daylight, their definition seemed to fail, blurring into a single mass of color that seemed to vary too little for them to be making enough progress. Feeling his frustration rise, Bond tamped down on it. There would be time later to feel it. For now, he had to focus.
He needed a place to tend to Q.
Q’s eyes were open, but they weren’t focused. He seemed to be trying to hold himself completely still, Bond’s jacket tightly around him, which between that and the seat heater should be helping him stay warm, but Q was too quiet. The younger man’s normally pale face was wan, and the circles under his eyes looked like they had been punched into place.
Bond had been fast enough to prevent Q being kidnapped, but not fast enough to prevent the scuffle that followed. He’d been distracted with three of the men, while Q tried to wrestle the gun from the fourth. It had gone off, and Bond’s heart had almost stopped. But Q was still standing, slightly shaking, blood flecks splattered across his coat and cheek.
“Hold on, Q,” Bond murmured.