Chapter Text
Everything hurt. That wasn’t overly surprising, seeing as he had been held captive for a week, but it was all he could think of. Pain, and the fact that he would never see his beloved Q again.
“This will all end if you talk,” said a slippery voice by his ear. He couldn’t see the face because of the too tight blindfold, but he knew it was his main captor.
“Not happening,” James spat, a trickle of bloody spit running down his lips. There was a loud bang and a clamor of voices, and then nothing.
James had disappeared before. In fact, if Q had to guess, it was probably one of his top three hobbies--alternately making Q’s life heaven and hell occupying spots one and two. But this time...it was different. There had been perfect communication, and no sign of anything going wrong. In fact, prior to the moment James had simply stopped replying to Q’s commands through the comms, it had been almost a boring mission. But now it wasn’t. Now, it was a terrifying ordeal that had kept Q awake and glued to his computer for three days as they tried to find James, and find out what had happened.
When Q finally did find out what had happened, and where James was, his blood ran cold. It had taken 1 day to realize that something was very clearly wrong, 4 days to find him, and another 2 to assess the ‘advantages and disadvantages of entering an unknown hostile area.’ Risk assessment. They had fucking done a risk assessment to determine whether or not they could save James. It made Q’s stomach churn.
They voted yes, though, and he, Moneypenny, and a whole crew of agents stormed the abandoned citadel on the Turkish coast to find him. It was Eve who kicked in the door to the room where they were holding him.
“007 has been located,” she said into her comm. “Q, do you copy, 007 has been located.”
She knelt in front of him. “007, can you hear me? James?”
Blinking can’t clear his vision, but he knows that voice. Struggling weakly against his bonds, he tried to make his voice work. But he can’t get the words out from his swollen throat and lips, and it just comes out a pained little gasping cry.
“We need med evac immediately. Agent is in dire medical condition, and unable to move on his own.” Eve tried to keep her voice from shaking, tried to stop picturing the last time they were in Turkey together and the words Agent down had come from her lips as she watched him plummet from the train. “James, just relax, it’s alright. We’re getting you out.”
Q, back at mobile command, was shaking. That was the only indicator of his fear and relief and exhaustion and desperation, though. “Moneypenny, is he conscious?”
“Yes, but he can’t speak, he’s too weak.”
“I don’t care,” Q snapped. “Give your earpiece to him, I need to talk to him.”
Cradling James’ head gently, Eve slipped the tiny earpiece out of her ear and into James’. “It’s Q,” she murmured.
“James?” His voice broke, but he soldiered on. “James, it’s me, it’s Q. We’ve got you. I’ve got you, alright? Just, please, stay with me.”
“...q...” it’s just a faint aspiration, but soon James is making a horrible dry choking sob as all the tension runs out of his frame. That’s Q’s voice. He’d know it anywhere, and that means the person with his hand on his knee is a friend and that maybe, just maybe, James will get to see Q before he dies.
“Yes, darling, it’s me, I’m not far, I promise. Eve is going to get you out and bring you to me, and I swear to you, Mr. Bond, if any of my equipment has been damaged, I shall be very put out.” He’s trying so hard to keep it together, to joke and distract James from the world of pain he must be in, but he can’t. Tears trickle down his face, and his voice gets thick. “And that includes you. I shall have to personally oversee the repairs, understood? Just...you have to hold on so I can see you again.” He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.
James had to say it. There was darkness in the corners of his vision, andagonizing pain as he was cut free and lowered to the ground, but he had to say it. Just in case.
“L’ve you...” he whispered. It burned, and was the last thought before everything went black.
Through Moneypenny’s comm, Q could hear the medics attending to James, calling for oxygen and a stretcher and for them to prep an OR for him. He sat back, hands shaking and eyes blurred with tears, watching the grainy CCTV footage of the outside of the complex as James was carried out on a stretcher, Moneypenny at his side. They were going to airlift him to the hospital. Q stood, ripping off his headset and pushing his way to the door of the too-hot command center.
“Where are you going?” One of the interns asked. “You can’t just leave.” She was shushed by the others as Q ran as fast as he could towards the cars. He had to get to James.
The wait in the hospital was agonizing. James was still in surgery when Q arrived, and it was hours before a doctor came out to speak with him.
“He’s in critical condition,” the man said softly. “Massive internal bleeding and fever, a serious concussion and lung infection, as well as dehydration and malnutrition. There is a high chance he won’t live through the night.”
Q nodded, words unable to come, for once in his life. He tried to take deep breaths, tried to fight the tears that stung at the corners of his already-red eyes. “Can- I see him?” He asked, voice hoarse.
The man consulted his clipboard before nodding.
“This way.”
Q followed numbly. He knew it was probably psychosomatic, but his left hand started to throb, and his chest hurt. This was too much, he wasn’t sure if he could handle James dying, because he hadn’t found him fast enough. No...he couldn’t afford to think like that now.
The doctor let Q into the ICU room, and Q stopped cold in the doorway. That wasn’t James, that couldn’t be James. His James was strong and buzzing with a magnetic contained energy and determined and powerful. The figure in the bed was pale, emaciated, sick and fragile, hooked to more tubes and monitors than Q had seen in his life. This is what they had done to him. They had taken away every bit of his...Jamesness, they had drained him out.
Q sobbed. There was nothing else he felt he could do.
James didn’t die that night, though there were a few close calls. But he was still, too still, and not a speck of color returned to his face over the hours that they waited. Around 7am, Moneypenny stopped by with a pot of tea and a box of lemon bars, staying long enough to hold James’ hand and offer Q silent support.
Q had managed to cry himself out during the night, and now sat silently, watching James and doing something he hadn’t done since childhood--praying. Science and the solace of numbers and code and logic had long since trumped deities and dogma in his mind, but he still thought back to his childhood at mass, and the solace of repetitiveprayers, and he thought if there was any chance it might help, he wasn’t going to pass it up. Besides, the quiet, meditative mantras helped distract and soothe. Moneypenny had just left, she had more work to do, and so Q was yet again alone.
It was over two days before James was awake and aware for any extended period of time. There had been flashes of it, enough to get James off the ventilator and let his ragged lungs work for a while, but then there had been a setback, and they had reintubated him so he didn’t strain himself.
And that was why when he woke of for real, he couldn’t breathe. He gasped and coughed, flashing back to the horrible water tortures they had put him through, crying and rasping in fear.
Over the two days, Moneypenny had managed to lure Q away from James’ side a total of two times, both for official business. Other than that, he had been working relentlessly to destroy the group responsible for James’ near-death situation from the inside out on his laptop in the hospital room. So he was there when James finally woke up with clear eyes.
“James! James, breathe, you’re safe! It’s me, it’s Q, I’m here,” he said, leaping to his feet and grabbing James’ hand, trying to soothe him. “You’re alright, you’re safe, you’re alive.”
He was still trying to fight the respirator, but as he heard Q’s voice he was able to settle into the rhythm until the nurse came.
“Cough,” she said, pulling the tube out when James did so. It left him wheezing and he was almost sick, but Q’s hand on his was soothing and grounding, and soon he was blinking up at his quartermaster and the love of his life.
It took a moment for Q’s jackrabbiting heart rate to settle, but when it did, he let out a sigh of relief. “James,” he crooned, rubbing his back and pressing soft kisses to his hair. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever do anything like that ever again, or-- or--” he couldn’t come up with a good threat, because he knew if anything like this happened again, he wouldn’t be able to survive it. “Don’t you dare leave me,” he said. “Don’t you dare.”
James reached out to touch Q’s cheek, his hand trembling with the exertion.
“You know I can’t promise that, Perc,” he said, using his private name for Q. “I...You know this is a risk...” His voice is scratchy and worn, and he coughs around the last word, not able to talk any more.
“Shh,” Q whispered, catching James’ hand in his own and holding it firmly to his face. “I know, I know...I’ll just have to keep a better eye on you, then. Make sure I never lose you like this.” He pressed a kiss to James’s hand. “We won’t worry about that now, though. We’ll worry about that later, right now we need to focus on making you well.”
“W’ter,” James croaked, looking around for a glass. His throat burned and his vision was swimming. But he had to stay awake.
Q could have smacked himself. Oh, he was being so stupid, jabbering on while James was so clearly in pain. “Of course, darling,” he said. He grabbed a cup that thankfully had a straw in it, and held it to James’ lips. “Just little sips, I don’t want you getting ill.”
The water was the best thing James had tasted in a very long while, and he had to force himself away so he didn’t drink it too fast. He knew what the consequences would be if he didn’t. He managed to drink half the glass before his stomach began to protest, and then he turned away, letting Q set the glass down.
“Thank you for finding me,” James murmured, brushing his better hand over the one Q had rested on his lap.
Q nodded, kissing his hair, drinking in his scent, even though it wasn’t quite right. “I will always find you. No matter how far, or how hard, or how many red herrings, I will find you.” He sighed gently. “And that's a promise.”
James just smiled, and let his eyes drift closed.