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He’d always had bad eyesight. It was a genetic thing. Bad eyes ran in the family. Well, and he worked on and with computers for a living… And the small little technical work with gadgets and all that… Squinting constantly at the tiny components didn’t help matters much. But the one thing Quinton never counted on was losing his sight entirely.
He was the youngest head of Q branch MI6 had ever seen. Quin knew going into this that he would be reviewed and scrutinized day after day until he’d proven himself. It had taken months upon months, but finally he was proving himself to his underlings who looked upon him with distrust and anger. Hey, he couldn’t help the fact that he had outperformed every single one of them when it came time to choosing the new head of the department. But that was all in the past. Now he was outperforming every single department head that had come before him without breaking a sweat. He monitored field agents, hacked and coded firewalls, fixed the things that 007 brought back broken, invented new things for James to break, and more or less made sure absolutely everything went off without a hitch.
Quin knew he wasn’t supposed to play favorites, but James had swept him off his feet after day one. It was an oddity to be certain. No one really saw it coming, especially when it meant James actually settling down with someone. No one had seen that coming. But the fact of the matter stood, and the pair of them fell into an easy rhythm.
When M sent them both off on a mission, 007 protested immediately. Q absolutely hated flying. Who the hell did they think they were, sending him off like that? But M always had the final word and off they went.
It ended up being the worst idea M had ever had.
Q couldn’t remember what happened. One minute, he was sitting in his bunker, typing out line after line of code that would get James through the necessary doors along his way, waiting to be brought the harddrive that they were retrieving and would be dismantling on sight after getting the proper information. The next, everything was black. He was laying down. He was warm and seemed safe… He thought he had opened his eyes… But the world around him was black. Though he tried to stop it, Q could feel the panic in his chest even before it seemed proper.
“James…?” Was he alone here? Had he been left alone in a pitch black room?
“I’m right here, Q.”
Right. Good. That was reassuring. The young quartermaster swallowed heavily. And then it clicked. That dull beeping in the background was the exact same rhythm as his heart. Because it was his heart monitor. He felt little pinpricks in the crook of his arm and the back of his hand. Q couldn’t feel much more other than that. So. He was in the hospital. Laying in a hopital bed. Oh, God…
Q swallowed heavily.
Paused.
Then asked the question weighing on his mind, choking on his own words.
“Why can’t I see?”
He felt more than heard the panic in his own voice. He heard the chair next to him squeak as 007 shifted closer to him. The answer was slow to come. Q didn’t want it to come at all. He couldn’t… He couldn’t be…
“There was an explosion.” James slid his hand into Q’s, holding it tightly. The hardened agent was shaking. Q could feel it. “We got out. But…”
“It was… Was it…”
“They’d bugged your computer, Q. You were staring right at it.”
Q felt his heart stop. His world stop. Everything, in that moment, ceased to exist. It must not have been a large explosion then, if he wasn’t dead. That did account for his memory loss, though… And his… His… Reaching up with his free hand, Q dared to touch his eyes. Bandages. He was heavily bandaged. He felt himself beginning to cry what would have been tears had his tearducts survived.
“No…”
“I’m sorry, Q… Quin. I’m so sorry.”
“No.”
James could see the absolute agony on his face that would have been expressed in tears if it were possible anymore.
It was hearing the dry sobs that killed him the most.
—-
Three days later, Q and James had returned to London under an armored guard. Q was retired to medical while 007 went to give M his report of the failed mission, M ending with the words “at least Q’s still alive.”
It really was a blessing. A sheep in wolf’s clothing, as it were.
There had been far too many explosions injuring non-field agents lately.
Q hadn’t said a word since Munich.