Chapter Text
How to Face Your Past
Chapter 1
Q folded his hands nervously as he waited to be admitted. James and Alec were away; a weekend survival hike in the Lake District. He was sure their absence was the reason for him being summoned now.
Now, when his devoted agents weren’t here to stand up for him.
There was a buzz on the secretary’s phone, and she picked it up, spoke a few words, and put it down again. “M will see you now,” she told Q.
Q nodded, stood, tried to thank her, swallowed, and gave up. He knocked on M’s door, before going in. “You wanted to see me, Ma’am?” he asked.
M had a desk with a computer, a mass of paperwork, and a bulldog nodding-dog novelty painted as though wearing a Union Flag. Last time Q had been in this room, he had been too nervous and feline to notice much. He was only marginally less nervous now.
M stood, and gestured to one of the seats opposite. “Please sit, Mr Boothroyd. Would you like a drink? I have a fine bourbon, that I believe Mr Bond very much approves of.”
“No thank you, Ma’am,” Q croaked. “I don’t drink. Blackouts.”
M poured herself a drink and returned to her desk. “A most sensible attitude. Tea?”
Q smiled, and nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“That’s what secretaries are for,” M smiled, tapping the intercom. She ordered tea for two, not asking Q before choosing Earl Grey. Of course, as a highly talented telepath, she probably didn’t need to ask any questions at all, because Q’s every thought was open to her, and nothing he could do could keep her out-
“Sometimes, I wish my agents didn’t drink,” M’s voice cut across Q’s rising panic, derailing his thoughts. “They can get in terrible trouble, and of course they can never tell when they’re going to need a clear head for driving or some such. But it would be terribly suspicious in most circles to not drink, or not be able to hold it. Can you imagine trying to infiltrate the Russian Mafia if you choke on every mouthful of vodka? So we have to train our agents to hold their liquor, or else concoct a watertight reason to avoid it.”
Q breathed deeply, trying desperately to push away his unease. “I’m sure some agents take to drink like fish to water,” he tried to joke.
M pulled a face. “Uncontrollable substance abuse issues is an automatic field suspension. If the issue is unresolved, they’re into custody. Nearly twenty years ago, a very highly cleared agent ended up addicted to heroin, and sold out a lot of secrets their next fix.”
Q grimaced. The thought of that happening to James or Alec was horrifying. Then the secretary brought in a tea tray, and M served them both.
“Now, business,” M started. “Mr Boothroyd. It is becoming increasingly apparent that you are not only receiving a steady stream of classified information, but are continuing to interfere in MI6 affairs, and also have been hacking into our computer systems.”
Q turned pink. He stared into the depths of his cup. “I’m not doing any harm,” he mumbled. “I was just trying to help James and Alec.”
“And if I didn’t believe that, we’d be having this conversation in a holding cell,” M commented. “Regardless, this state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue.”
Q flinched. “Please don’t make me leave James and Alec,” he whispered.
“That’s not what I had in mind, no,” M reassured him. “We’ve been looking into you. You’re on your third known alias; do my agents know that?” Q stayed silent. “So, which do you prefer? Peter Llewellyn, Desmond Burton, or Quincy Boothroyd?”
Q sat up straighter. “I prefer Q.”
M nodded. “Did you successfully hack into MI6 before you turned 15?”
Q jerked. “Wha- how?”
“That’s a yes,” M remarked. “You signed your own deed poll when you turned 16, and chose the same surname as our Quartermaster, and first name that abbreviates to his code name. Of course, That’s not in and of itself suspicious. But we now have proof you’ve been in our systems.”
Q took a shaky sip. He felt the desperate need to turn cat and kitten-cry until James swept him into his jacket, but that wasn’t happening. For all of M’s earlier reassurances, having his life laid on the table was terrifying. Even having James in the same building would have been a comfort. “What are you going to do with me?”
“That depends,” M said. “We have yet to trace your natural family.”
Q shut his eyes, screwing his face up and trying frantically to think about something, anything else. “Don’t look, don’t listen, please stay out,” he pleaded. “I haven’t seen them in so long, I don’t have anything to do with them, just let them stay lost.”
“Drink your tea, Q Boothroyd,” M ordered. Q took a shaky gulp, then another. “I’m restricting myself to an empathic read right now, which is enough to know you’re telling the truth. If you ever do re-establish contact, or of for some other reason your natural family becomes relevant, I expect you to tell me. Is that understood?”
Q nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good.” M sat back. “However, I would recommend you tell Mr Bond and Mr Trevelyan at least some of this. If nothing else, they’ll get suspicious if and when they meet the Quartermaster. It’ll be easier of they have some advance notice.”
Q nodded. “I’ll take that under advisement. Is that all you wanted to talk about?”
“No, there’s also the matter of a civilian being far too involved in MI6 activity,” M said sternly. “As you appear unable to stop being involved, we’ll have to do something about the other part of that description.”
“Ma’am?” Q asked, not following.
M pulled out and opened another file. “You’re studying a double masters in computer and electrical engineering, while taking extra modules in mechanical engineering and mathematics. You’re at the limit of your student loan, and most of your maintenance grant is going on your extra modules and computing equipment. I’m offering to fund your studies, and you work for us when you graduate. If you wish to continue studying afterwards, we can arrange for something part-time. I’d also like you to do an internship after this years’ exams to bolster our computer defences. Putting you on the payroll will give you a security clearance, legitimise Band and Trevelyan’s information leaks, and we can even allow you to accompany them on their advanced courses in mountaineering, water sports and various other foreign trips.”
Q blinked, and tried to parse all that information. “So…you want to pay for my education, give me more time with James and Alec, and let me make you the best firewalls in existence, and in return, you want to give me my dream job?”
M closed the file. “I’ll work you to the bone.”
Q smiled. “Deal.”