Chapter Text
Q enjoyed times like this. Paperwork corralled, technicians teching merrily away, higher ups minding their own business — no meetings, phone calls, emails, memos, notes, or anything else that would need his attention. He could work on his own projects, and everyone in Q Branch knew to go to his deputy if there were any problems. His administrative assistant was holding all his calls, telling everyone to leave a message because the Quartermaster was unavailable for the foreseeable future.
Which was why, when the door to Q’s workroom and lab opened unexpectedly, he closed his eyes and wished for patience. It would be Bond, of course. It always was, and always just when Q had freed up some time to work on his special projects. He stared at the delicate measuring instruments he was calibrating without really seeing them, as if waiting for his doom. Something was bound to go wrong. He didn’t know what, but something would. And with the way Bond had been deliberately antagonizing him recently, that something would either be him quitting or him getting fired — for attempting to murder the annoying, entirely too attractive, Double O.
“Why is it so cold in here?”
Q reflexively tensed as Bond’s voice came from behind him. “It’s 20°C, that’s not exactly freezing.”
“Hmm. Chilly enough, though.” The sound of soft footfalls stopped at the workbench along the lab’s far wall. “At least you’re wearing a jumper, ugly though it is. You should have saved it for Christmas.”
“This is a perfectly nice jumper I’ll have you know,” Q said, still not looking up from his calibration tools. Should he go ahead and pack them away? He was positive that Bond would start fiddling with the components on the workbench any moment now, which meant that his precious moments of project time had just gone up in smoke. “Don’t touch that!”
“Don’t touch what?” Bond’s voice was utterly innocent and absolutely infuriating.
Q gritted his teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. He kept his attention on his tools. He picked up the micrometer and inspected it, preparing to stow it away. He slowly ran his thumb along the surfaces… ah, there was the problem. A bit of a burr was catching on the thimble, and that was all it would take to throw off his measurements. “Some of those components are delicate. All of them are expensive.”
Bond scoffed. “They can’t be that expensive.”
“And why not?” Regretting this already, Q turned, and — yes, Bond was tossing a gyroscope in the air. He fought the urge to lunge for it, instead saying tightly, “Please put that down. It’s not a toy.”
“It looks like a toy.” Bond tossed it lightly into the air again. “I bet you play with it when no one is around.”
“No, I don’t. And it’s not. A toy. It costs more than you make in a year.” Q rolled his eyes ceilingward and wished once more for patience. Failing that, he wished someone, anyone, would come and take Bond away.
Bond appeared singularly unimpressed. “I make more annually than you think.”
“Then I’ll take the replacement cost out of your pay,” Q snapped, rapidly reaching the end of his patience. “Regardless, it’s not yours. Put it down, Bond.”
Remarkably, Bond complied, albeit with a wounded air. “You don’t need to shout, Q. I wasn’t going to hurt your toy.”
What? How dare — Q held onto his fraying temper by the skin of his teeth. Bond was smirking, the bastard. “That gyroscope is precisely machined. Anything causing its frame to warp in the slightest will result in a variance that will disrupt the entire mechanism—”
“As if you’d build something that could be that easily warped,” Bond scoffed.
Was that a compliment? Q stared at Bond in confusion, feeling a bit wrong footed.
Bond rolled his eyes and said, “It will be fine,” with a dismissive sniff. He looked around idly, seemingly unimpressed with the equipment surrounding them. “You’ve worked through lunch. Do you do that often? You must be hungry.”
“What?“ Now Q frowned, nonplussed at the sudden change of subject. The agent obviously wanted something, but what?
“Food.” Bond swung around, head cocked, studying Q as though he were an exhibit in a museum. “Surely you’ve heard of it.”
Q shook his head. What was Bond’s angle? “Whether I’ve had lunch or not is neither here nor there. You need to leave so I can continue my work.” There was an answering flash of — something — in Bond’s eyes, but Q couldn’t tell what it was.
“Is this still about the gyroscope?” Bond sauntered closer to Q’s chair, the gleam of battle now lighting his ice blue eyes. “It’s just a toy. You’re being childish.”
A clear crystal globe glowed in a dark room. It barely managed to illuminate the gloved hand it rested upon — or the half-glimpsed face of the being that peered into its depths. The feeble light had no chance whatsoever of penetrating the gloom surrounding the being like a cloak.
A near-silent whisper came from the shadows at the far edges of the room. “What's he doing?”
“Watching mortals,” came the answer, the second voice just as quiet as the first.
The watcher paid no notice to the whispers. Two figures appeared in the crystal, one brunet and one dark blond. They seemed to be arguing about something.
After a moment the first whisperer asked, “Why?”
“He's bored.” The second whisperer sounded as though they’d just shrugged.
“What, again?” A third whisperer joined the conversation, their voice rising with a note of disbelief.
“Shhh!” The second whisperer’s voice warned, alarmed. “Don’t disturb him!”
The first whisperer’s voice went even more quiet with an air of trepidation. “You remember what happened before—”
This time the first whisperer’s voice was met with a chorus of the others. “Shhh!”
Childish? Him? Q turned back to his workbench, muttering under his breath, trying to contain his temper. He switched out his safety glasses for his regular pair. What a brat! Something his grandmother had told him as a child about brats and wishes surfaced in Q’s memory. He had wished before for someone to take Bond away… What were the words she had told him? “I really do wish the goblins would take you away. Right now.”
“Q, what are you prattling about—”
Bond’s voice cut off as Q whirled around, ready to snap at him. The only problem was that Bond was nowhere to be seen. What the hell? That annoying Double O disappeared right in the middle of an argument! How dare he! “Bond? Where are you? Come back here!”
A low, mocking laugh flowed through the room, filling the lonely lab. The hairs on the back of Q’s neck stood straight as he turned in a circle, scanning the room. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
A tall man, with long, wild, golden blond hair and mismatched eyes appeared in the middle of the room. He stood there, hands on hips, laughing heartily. He wore a green poet’s shirt — one of those renaissance fair things — with laces tied loosely enough to display a broad chest, and tucked into black leather trousers. Extremely tight leather trousers.
Q’s mind shut down for long moments while he tried to process the image burning its way deeply into his libido. He shook his head and tried to drag his attention back on track.
The man’s laughter died down, although he still appeared amused, and focused on Q. “Why are you calling for someone you just wished away?”
Q was still waiting for his brain to reboot. The man’s eyes, one green and one hazel, were mesmerizing. He blinked, realizing he hadn’t yet asked — “Wait, who are you?”
The man slanted a sly expression at Q, threw his arms wide, and announced with a swagger: “I am the Goblin King.”
What. Q stared in shock. No, that was impossible. Except... He remembered his grandmother’s stories… That meant… His stomach dropped as his own words echoed at him through his mind — he had wished the goblins would take Bond away. He’d just been frustrated, he hadn’t thought it would actually work… But then why did you make the wish? “And you’ve taken him. You’ve taken Bond.”
“Of course,” the Goblin King said, flowing into a gracefully elaborate bow. A smug smile graced his lips as he straightened. “A thank you would be nice.”
“A… a thank you?” Q snapped, unaccountably furious. “Give him back to me. Now.”
The Goblin King — and Q really did need to learn the man’s name, because it was awkward to keep using that title for him — affected a surprised look. “Why would I give him back? What’s said is said. What’s done is done. You’re the one who wished him away.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Q said steadily. This Goblin King had the same attitude as the Double O’s. Q knew better than to seem easily overruled or indecisive. He had to show that he was in control, whether he actually was or not. Q stood and walked forward slowly, speaking with each step. “Give. Him. Back.”
“Hmmm….” The Goblin King cocked his head, eyeing Q as though he was studying an unusual specimen through a microscope. “Well, now. Isn’t that interesting.”
Q’s hands balled into fists. “Isn’t what interesting?”
The Goblin King smirked. “I’ll make you a deal, Quartermaster. A challenge, if you will. If you can get to the center of my labyrinth before the clock strikes — hmm…” the Goblin King paused, thinking. “Normally the challenge is until the clock strikes thirteen. But that wouldn’t be a challenge for a man as clever as you, would it? We’ll make it… until the clock strikes seven.”
With that, the Goblin King vanished — and so did the rest of Q’s lab.
Q lost his balance, nearly falling to the uneven cobblestones suddenly beneath his feet. He caught himself with a step and swung around, gaping. He was outside; a broad expanse of pale greenish sky arched overhead, and around him were stone walls that soared high above his head. The cobbles beneath his feet were rusty browns and reds and tans, strewn with dead, dried leaves of purple and grey and black. The air smelled like high summer, redolent with heat and the smell of unfamiliar flowers, not the dry chill of autumn. Where had presumably autumn leaves come from?
He looked up again. There were no trees within sight. How odd. A flash of light caught his eye, high up in the sky. A clock, with both its hands pointing straight up — at 13, not 12. Q bit his lip. Why was that important?
“Remember, Quartermaster. You have until the clock strikes seven.” The Goblin King’s mocking laughter filled Q’s memory as it had his ears, earlier in the lab. Seven hours. Because Q was clever. And, no doubt, because of Bond’s number.
“Shit.” Q turned in a slow circle, trying to get his bearings. He was in the center of an open square, and at first glance, he saw no openings in the walls — or any indication of which direction he should go once he found an entrance into the labyrinth.
As if that thought was a signal, a spire appeared over one of the walls, followed by the rest of a castle. It wavered in an apparent heat haze far in the distance. Q swore under his breath. He had no way of estimating how far away it truly was.
“Watch your language, young man!”
Q jumped, turning to face the voice. He looked around wildly — there was no one behind him. What the hell? “Who’s there?”
“Me!”
He turned again. No one. “Who?”
“Me!”
This time when he turned, he saw a… person? Short, barely as tall as his knees, with long, scraggly gray hair and pinched purple eyes. The person wore a brown robe, cinched at the waist with a green band. “Who are you?”
“I’m a goblin!” The… goblin, said proudly.
Q nodded. “Right. But I didn’t ask what you were, I asked who you were.”
“Oh.” The goblin frowned, as though Q had confused them. “What did you go and do that for?”
Q blinked in surprise. “Because… I’d like to know your name? I’m—”
“Don’t say it!” The goblin rushed toward him, arms waving, pinched eyes widening in panic. “Don’t say your name!”
“Why not?”
The little goblin looked over their shoulder, obviously uneasy. “Names have power. Especially here in the labyrinth.”
Right. Q stared in confusion at the goblin. “Could you help me, at least? I need to get to the castle.”
The goblin tilted their head. “Why d’you want to go there? It’s dangerous.”
“I’m looking for—” mindful of the goblin’s warning about names, Q awkwardly finished, “Erm, my friend.”
“Hmmm….” The goblin peered at him, studying him.
“Please. I’ve only got—” Q shot a glance at the clock hanging in the sky above him. Shit. Half an hour already gone. How had he lost so much time? Surely he hadn’t been dithering that long, he’d only been there a couple minutes. “I’ve only got six and a half hours.”
“What? Runners usually get thirteen hours.” The goblin looked shocked, shaking their head. Then the goblin straightened up with a determined nod. “I can tell you the way, but I can’t do more than that. More than my life’s worth, it is, if I help you and the Goblin King finds out, what with him shorting you with half the usual time.”
“Fine.” Q looked up again, where the castle loomed over the top of the walls. It looked so far away, and he had an uneasy feeling the Goblin King was messing with his perception of time passing… “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Find the doors,” the goblin began, sounding as if they were imparting grave advice. “Follow the path to the Garden of Neverending Delights. Once there, head towards the Bog of Eternal Stench. Don’t, erm, don’t fall in, yes? It’s got that name for a reason, you know.” The goblin tapped their nose and waited, eyeing Q until he nodded. The goblin looked reassured and continued the speech. “Skirt around the Bog until you get to the Statue Park. That’s a tricksy place, so mind your step there.”
“And then I will find the castle’s entrance?”
The goblin shrugged. “Possibly. If you don’t go backwards instead.”
“Possibly?” Q gritted, suddenly sick of the charade. “I need to find—”
“Don’t say his name!” the goblin yelled, aghast. They shook their head. “The entrance will be there only if it thinks you’re worthy. If you get in, then the real test begins.”
Suspicious now — how did the goblin know his friend was male? — Q frowned at the goblin and asked, “What do you mean?”
The goblin staggered back, sudden fury erupting on their face. “Questions, questions, always questions! Runners always want too much!” The goblin spun in a circle, faster and faster, until they disappeared with a soft pop.
“Wait!” Q called, flinging out a hand in a futile attempt to stop the goblin, only to let his arm drop to his side when he realized he was alone once more.
He would have to do this on his own.
James Bond turned on his heel, scanning his surroundings. The room wouldn’t be out of place in a palace or castle. The walls were grey stone blocks, draped with deep red curtains. He wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten there. Last thing he knew, he was having another delightful verbal sparring match with his Quartermaster. If it had gone as James had hoped, there might have been a dinner date involved at the end. Perhaps even a delightful end to the evening in bed. Instead, he was in a room lit by torches along the walls, and with a pair of tall goblins in armor guarding the doors.
A hint of wild heather scented the still air. That and the goblins gave him a visceral reminder of his childhood summers, running around the moors outside Skyfall with his friends. This was definitely not Skyfall, however, and the question was — how had he gotten there? And why? He had a suspicion, but it made no sense.
He studied the guard goblins. They stood by the doors, attention focused on the middle distance and ignoring his presence completely. They were armored, and each had a deadly-looking halberd resting on the floor.
The scent of heather grew stronger, and James looked around, seeking its source. The room had no windows, and the doors were closed. Some ventilation, perhaps? An elaborate throne on a dais at the other end of the room caught his eye. Had it been there the last time he’d looked in that direction? He walked toward the empty throne.
A large raven swooped down from the ceiling and landed on the arm of the throne, transforming into an individual with long, wildly tousled golden brown hair. He lounged on the throne, staring into the depths of what looked like a crystal ball.
“Why am I here?” James snapped, stalking forward. This went against everything he knew. The man gave no indication that he’d heard James’ demand. James bit back a snarl of frustration at being ignored. If he was here, then where was Q? His gut churned at the thought of Q, alone somewhere, possibly frightened. With effort, James pushed his worry aside. He had to focus, or he’d be no use for rescuing Q.
The man continued to ignore James, seemingly engrossed in the depths of the crystal ball.
James was close enough to reach out and touch the man, with no sign of acknowledgement, by the time he could see movement deep within the crystal. He bent closer, trying to get a look at what was so interesting. Perhaps it was like a tv, or a computer monitor. James could see a tiny figure walking around a stone square. Perhaps a courtyard? He caught his breath as the figure turned — it was Q!
He let out a relieved breath. Q didn’t appear to be injured — or frightened. If he had to guess, he’d say his Quartermaster was angry. James shot a glance at the still seemingly oblivious man on the throne. At least now he had proof they had both been taken, but where, exactly, was Q?
Inside the crystal, Q’s image explored the stone walls bounding the square with a determined expression.
He’s trapped somewhere, trying to find a way out. James eyed the man, who now lounged on the throne with one leg flung over a padded arm, showcasing legs clad in skintight leather — with a rather significant bulge at the groin. James tore his eyes away as his libido went into high gear. Not the time. He focused on the crystal ball. “What’s that?”
The man looked up from the crystal ball, a smirk on his aristocratic face. He met James’s eyes with striking, odd colored eyes full of mischief. “What, this old thing? Nothing at all, my dear.” The man sat up and tossed the crystal into the air. It vanished as it reached the zenith of its arc. “Are you enjoying your stay?”
James stared in disbelief. He thought of Q, carefully exploring the walls in a bid for escape and bit back the primal urge to physically demand answers. “Enjoying my stay? Seriously, Alec? Seriously? Why am I here?”
“You’re my… guest.”
“Not a prisoner then?” James asked, not believing that for a moment. “When you’ve always said there’s no way for me to enter the Labyrinth? Fine. Then I want to join Q, wherever he is.”
Alec looked at him with fake sympathy, odd-coloured eyes — one hazel and the other green — dancing with amusement. “That’s impossible, I’m afraid.”
James folded his arms across his chest, symbolically walling himself off from Alec. This wasn’t the time for him to act on his attraction, and this wasn’t a game, despite Alec’s obvious amusement. Q just as obviously had no idea what was going on, and was in need of rescue. James’ duty would always come before his libido. …Difficult as that may be at times.
Still, he couldn’t help but eye Alec’s broad chest, easily visible through the gap at the top of the loosely tied emerald poet’s shirt. Memories of being much closer to that chest, mutually naked, floated to the surface of his memory. Later, he told himself. Q first. “Why? Is this something to do with your damn rules?”
“I’m the Goblin King,” Alec smirked. He waved an arm, encompassing more than the room they were in. “And I make the rules. Everyone else follows them. Besides, you’re in my castle now. You’ve wanted to visit.”
“Not in the Labyrinth?” James looked at him sceptically.
“Well, not not in the Labyrinth.” A semi-apologetic half-shrug accompanied the non-answer.
“Right.” James didn’t roll his eyes, though the impulse was there. The castle, obviously, was either in or near the Labyrinth. It really was like something out of a childrens’ story. The image of a laughing young man — Alec — flashed in his memory, and he fought a fond smile. Now was not the time… He asked again, determined to get an answer, because Alec kept twisting away from revealing what James wanted to know. “Why am I here?”
“Because I want you to be,” Alec said, suddenly behind his shoulder, whispering in his ear.
James whirled, swearing. The heat of Alec’s breath sent ideas he didn’t need to have just yet to his cock. And of course that smirk was back. The smug bastard knew the effect he had. “I was talking with Q. How did I get here?”
Alec waved a negligent hand. “No need to worry about that, my dear. Are you hungry? You were talking to Q about lunch. We have—” he looked at a clock on the wall “—about six more hours to wait.”
A table appeared nearby, groaning with food and swarming with cheerful-sounding goblins enjoying the feast. None of them looked familiar to James. He ignored them and the delicious smelling food, demanding sharply, “Wait for what?”
Alec stood directly in front of him now, only an inch or two away. James stared into the mismatched eyes that stared back at him. They were breathing each other's breath. “If your Quartermaster gets here before the clock strikes seven, he can have you back. Otherwise, you’re mine. Forever.”
Mine. Forever. The scent of heather grew stronger as the words echoed in James’ ears. Alec’s eyes seemed to pull him closer… their lips almost touching… He took a step back, ignoring the disappointment that flashed across Alec’s face. Ignoring his own. Enough of Alec’s games. Seduction could wait, Q couldn’t. “I’m leaving.”
Now the mismatched eyes turned sad. “You can’t. Not unless your Quartermaster makes it through the labyrinth.”
James scoffed. Alec might be a goblin king, but he was a Double O. An apex predator in the world of espionage. One way or another, James was sure he would come out on top. “We’ll just see about that, shall we?”
Alec only smirked back, completely unintimidated. “So we shall.” He held out his hand and the crystal ball smacked into his palm, as if completing its arc from earlier. He peered into its depths, frowning, then glanced up at James. “Stay here, I will return shortly.”
James glared — what was he, a dog? — and watched, unwillingly impressed, as Alec turned into a raven again and disappeared. He turned to face the guard goblins. “Now what?”
They exchanged a look with each other, then turned back to him and shrugged. “Enjoy the feast?” The one on the right asked.
James groaned as the goblins at the table cheered, chanting, “Feast, feast, feast, feast, feast!”
With another glance at the clock in the sky — which now read a quarter to one — Q went to the nearest wall and put his hand out. The tan bricks were cold and rough under his fingers. Right, then. With a deep breath, Q walked the perimeter of the square, making sure he kept one hand on the wall as he went. There had to be a door somewhere. He hoped.
The clock struck one just as Q found the way into the labyrinth. He stared up in disbelief and swore, eyes narrowing at the clock. That damn Goblin King was playing with time again — or possibly just with the clock. It didn’t matter which. When that clock struck seven, his time would be up, no matter if it read correctly or not.
At least he’d found the entrance: a pair of huge wooden doors set in an angled alcove in the wall opposite the castle. He had missed them the first time he looked. He cast a glance back over his shoulder and worried his lip. Was this the right way to go? Maybe not, he told himself with a disgusted shake of his head, but it was the only way to go if he wanted to get started and out of this square.
He grabbed hold of one of the door handles and heaved with all his might — and landed a few feet away on his arse as the door swung open with ease. Damn it! Q got to his feet and stalked through the opening.
He did not jump when the door slammed shut behind him with all the finality of a door slamming shut on a prison cell.
The goblin reappeared in the square and shook their head at the closed doors. “Silly human.”
“Did you help that human?” a voice whispered in their ear.
“Your Majesty!” the goblin squeaked, turning around and staring up at the Goblin King in terror.
“Well? Did you?” The Goblin King straightened, picking the goblin up by the scruff of their neck. The goblin yelped and wriggled, struggling to break free. The king just stared at the dangling goblin with a cruel smile on his handsome face. “I’m waiting.”
The goblin looked down at the ground far below their feet and gulped, then back up at the Goblin King. “Erm, I did, yes, Your Majesty?”
“Excellent.” The Goblin King stared at the door, unknowable thoughts running through his mind. He dropped the goblin to the ground. “It’s a good thing I don’t know your name, Prufrock.”
“Erm, yes, your majesty.” The goblin got to their feet and dusted themself off, thankful the king was in a benevolent mood. That poor human had no idea what he was getting himself into.
Q looked to his left, then to his right. Which way should he go? There were no differences he could discern between either direction.
“Go to the left!”
“No, go to the right!”
Once more, he heard something behind him. Q turned back to the doors — where the handles had turned into faces. And they were… arguing with each other. Really? Q listened to the pair in disbelief.
“If he goes to the right, he’ll get lost!” One of the faces said, glaring at its mate. Then it looked at Q. “Go to the left!”
“If he goes to the left he’ll get lost!” the other face yelled back. It turned its eyes on Q. “Go to the right!”
“Left!”
“Right!”
“Left!”
“Right!”
He’d had enough. “Stop!”
The two faces glared at Q. “What do you want?”
“Could you two please stop arguing and tell me which way to go?”
The left side face sniffed at him. “If you don’t know which way to go already then you’ve lost.”
The right side face glared at the left but then seemed to shrug. “That’s right.”
Q stifled the urge to take his glasses off and rub the bridge of his nose. “Can either of you give me a hint, at least?”
The two faces looked surprised, but then they began whispering to each other. Q tried, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Finally they stopped whispering and looked at him with satisfaction. “The only way out is through,” they chorused.
“The o—” Q shook his head, baffled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a riddle, of course,” the right side face said.
“Yes,” the left side face added, sounding smug. “You’re supposed to figure it out for yourself.”
Now Q did pull his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. It didn’t help. He put them back on. Fine, then. He turned to the left, hesitated, then turned to the right. He glanced at the faces. They watched him with an innocent air.
Innocent his arse.
Wait.
The only way out is through? What if... Q turned his back to the door and faced the opposite wall. He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes. The only way out is through, he reminded himself. Q took one step forward, then another. And another.
He braced himself, sure that he’d hit the opposite wall soon.
Another step.
Another.
James prowled the room as he waited for Alec to return. The guard goblins were back to ignoring him, and the ones at the table were more intent on their feast then on what he was doing. The goblins’ suddenly raised voices were his only warning that something had changed. James stopped short as a metal bowl landed on the floor in front of him with a clang. He checked the suddenly silent goblins at the table. One stared at him in dismay. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, and another goblin sheepishly put a metal plate down. The rest of them slowly sat back down and began eating again.
He shook his head. Goblins… Old Kincade had told him stories about them when he’d been young, and then had sent young James out to play so Kincade could get on with his work. Some of his best memories were playing on the moors with his friends. But after James’ parents died, his aunt had had no time for such foolishness.
He put that thought away. He had more important concerns at the moment than daydreaming about his childhood. James checked his watch, wondering how much time he had before Alec returned. The watch, however, was of little help. Its hands spun crazily, never once stopping to indicate a time. James swore. He had no idea how long he’d been there, either. After another fruitless circuit of the room, James decided fuck it, and sat on Alec’s throne. The guard goblins once again exchanged a glance at his temerity, but went back to ignoring him.
How had everything gone so wrong? He had spent months flirting and snarking with the adorable Quartermaster. They should have been on a date or three by now. Maybe even some sort of permanent arrangement. Q was a challenge, always, and James loved rising to a challenge.
But now, he was here with Alec, the Labyrinth nearby. There was only one way for a human to enter the world of the Labyrinth. As a Wished Away, or as a Runner, attempting to correct their mistake and recover their loved one. So, why was James here? He’d seen Alec off and on over the years, for some quite enjoyable encounters, but never once had James entered the Labyrinth’s world. That was part of the rules. It was firmly off limits.
He knew how to separate feelings from a mission. He’d learned that lesson all too well when his mission with Vesper had blown up in his face. But… James had always been intrigued by Alec — although only as friends when they’d been children. And now, even though James had spent months flirting and snarking with the adorable Quartermaster, James couldn’t help but want Alec, too.
Once more the smell of heather throughout the throne room reminded him of his childhood. Running across the moors, playing with his imaginary friends… Then, as if doused by a bucket of cold water, his aunt’s annoyed voice telling him to grow up.
At the same time, Alec’s raven form appeared out of the shadows. He swooped downwards, changed form in the blink of an eye and stalked towards the throne.
James’ eyes flickered over Alec’s taller form in an agent’s automatic check for damage or injuries. Relieved when he found nothing of concern. He stood and went to meet Alec in the centre of the room. “Where did you go?”
Alec’s mouth quirked into a grin. “I go where I please,” he said with a mock-supercilious air.
James tilted his head, playing along. “Do you?”
“Yes, I do.” Alec’s expression shifted, becoming less amused, and more… more. Then Alec shifted closer… They stood together, face to face, eye to eye, breath to breath… “Did you miss me?”
James looked deep into the mismatched eyes. Something was there in the depths, something he almost recognized. Loneliness? “Maybe I did.” He was rewarded with a flash of uncertainty in Alec’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant.
Alec whirled away — but held out a hand. “Come. I’m going to watch your friend. Would you like to see how he fares in the maze?”
“I…” The throne, James noticed, was now an elaborate fainting couch that looked comfortable enough for two — and they were somehow right at the stairs to the dais. He looked at Alec again, who regarded him somberly. His choice, then. He shrugged, did not take Alec’s hand, and said, “Lead on.”
He followed Alec to the couch. James had to sit quite close in order to peer into the depths of the crystal orb that Alec held before him. Oddly, all he could see of his Quartermaster was Q’s face, eyes screwed shut for some reason, against the backdrop of what appeared to be a tan wall of some kind.
“Watch closely, now,” Alec’s voice whispered against his ear.
James rolled his eyes. Did Alec expect him to look away?
Q hesitated on his next step and stopped. He should have hit the wall by now, shouldn’t he?
He opened his eyes on an entirely different scene than he’d expected. The path was gone. He stood on lush blue grass instead of cobbles. The walls surrounding him were now tall sapphire and silver hedges, with turquoise shrubs dotted here and there along the path and open areas. Purple and pink flowers on aqua stalks perfumed the air... The air! That reminded him, and he took a glance above him.
The clock hung there, seemingly the same spot as before, even though he’d obviously moved. The hands pointed to twenty past one. But hadn’t the clock only just struck one? And back in the square, he remembered, the hour had gone by awfully fast. Did time pass more quickly here? A chill went through him at the thought. With less than six hours left, he would have to go even faster. At least he could still see the castle, rising high over one of the distant hedge walls. But which way should he go now? He was surrounded by shades of blue, and once more there was no indication of which direction he should take. He needed a map. Or a guide of some sort, at least.
“They said the only way out was through….” Q muttered to himself, and stepped forward again. Face first into a hedge. He jerked back, spitting out sapphire leaves and swore. Then Q realized that he could hear giggling to his left. With a glare at the hedge he’d walked into, he headed towards the giggling. Hopefully, that was the correct direction and he wasn’t being led astray…
James leaned closer to the crystal orb, watching Q make what was clearly a difficult choice. “Is he going the right way?”
“Do you want him to be?”
He looked up into mismatched eyes that were closer than he expected. Yes, they were sitting almost on top of each other, but… He let his eyes drift from Alec’s face down to his chest and back, and quirked a brow in challenge. “Will you give me a reason I wouldn’t want him to go the right way?”
Alec studied him almost solemnly, then grinned brightly. “Perhaps later. Your Q still has time.”
Your Q. An image entered James’ mind then: in bed, with Alec and Q. Intrigued, he eyed Alec who was engrossed once more in the crystal ball. The idea had definite possibilities. Now, how to bring up that suggestion in a way that Alec would agree, and Q wouldn’t have his balls?
Q followed the giggling to a pond — or perhaps it was a small lake? He wasn’t quite sure.
The gigglers were three young women. Human, he thought. Or mostly human, at least. Human adjacent? Like the Goblin King, perhaps. And, oh. They were naked. Q shifted uncomfortably. The women sat on a blanket spread at the edge of the water, a picnic basket beside them. One of them, a brunette, smiled at him coquettishly, while the blonde leaned back on her elbows, breasts thrust perkily up in the air and legs stretched out in front of her. Q averted his eyes. They were all quite pretty, but he had no business staring at them.
The third woman was a redhead, rummaging through the picnic basket. She sat back with a triumphant cry, a bottle in her hand. She grinned invitingly up at Q. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”
He just stared at them. While he did like women, he was there for James. Bond, he corrected himself mentally. He had no time for this. “No, thank you, though. Can you tell me if I’m going in the right direction? I need to get to the castle.”
The blonde snorted under her breath and exchanged a significant glance with the brunette.
Q frowned at her, not sure what the problem was.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a glass? It’s an excellent vintage.” This time the voice behind him was male, and Q turned back to discover the redhead had decidedly fewer curves and rather more… attributes, than before.
A warm hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to find a handsome blond and well-built brunet flanking him. Crowding him closer to the muscular redhead. He dug in his heels. “No, I said. I just need the way to the castle.”
“This one will need a bit more work,” someone muttered.
“I’ve got just the thing,” another assured the first voice.
“Hmm?” Q looked at the brunet, puzzled. Then he noticed a little building just a bit farther along the lake’s shore. A neon sign blinked in the window: Labyrinth Internet Cafe. Q shrugged the brunet’s hand off his shoulder and hurried over. He was sure to find answers there!
“No, Q! Don’t go in there!” James shouted at the crystal, knowing it was useless. He leaned back with a frustrated huff as his Quartermaster entered the building.
“Are you sure you want him to get here in time?” Alec studied him curiously. “He was the one to wish you away, you know.”
James froze. He hadn’t realized that… Why hadn’t he realized that? Then he shook his head. “That makes no difference. I knew he’d be annoyed — it’s the only way to get his attention. I doubt he’d eaten anything in days.”
Disappointment crossed Alec’s face for a moment before becoming an uncaring mask. “It doesn’t matter. If he doesn’t make it through the Labyrinth in time, you stay here. Whether you like it or not.”
The scent of heather grew stronger in tandem with Alec’s pronouncement, teasing James once more with old memories. He ignored that and merely said, “I’ve been held captive before. I always get free.” He smirked at Alec, pulling out his best feral grin.
Alec threw back his head and laughed. When he regained his control, he smirked at James. “I’ve never needed to hold you captive. You’ve stayed anyway.”
James told himself he wasn’t embarrassed. It was true — given the chance, he’d stayed with Alec when he could. But now, there was Q. And if there was a possibility that he could have Alec and Q? He’d take it. Was it his fault he was a greedy man?
“Would you like another cup of tea?”
“Hmm?” Q reluctantly pulled his attention away from the article he had found online about the history of the labyrinth. He blinked fuzzily a few times before he could focus on the two empty mugs beside him. When had he gotten tea? He didn’t recall drinking one mug of tea, let alone two… Alarm flooded through him with a surge of adrenaline sharpening his thoughts. James! How could he have forgotten? How long had he been distracted?
Q vaguely remembered sipping tea while hunting down a particularly elusive snippet of information on… something. And now he couldn’t quite recall what it had been. But it meant he’d been here for far longer than he’d planned.
“Sir?”
The sultry voice caught his attention. Q focused on the scantily clad young woman talking to him. “How long have I been here? ”
“Never mind that now, sir.” She smiled at him and leaned over, giving him an excellent view of her breasts, framed delicately by gentle curls of long brown hair. “Would you like more tea?”
Disturbed now, Q subtly leaned away, all thoughts of the history of the labyrinth fleeing his mind. A distant clock chimed. One. Two. Three.
Three. Q’s stomach churned with sick realization of just how much time he’d wasted. He only had four more hours to get to the castle to free James! “No, thank you,” he said, striving for an aura of calm politeness while extricating himself from the trap. He had to nudge the brunette aside in order to get past her.
A nearly nude young man — wearing only his muscles and a scrap of fabric barely concealing an impressive bulge — approached them. He stood in the aisle, blocking Q from getting any further. “Is there something wrong, sir? Would you like to try another workstation?”
Q followed the blond’s graceful gesture with his eyes. The Internet cafe was bigger than he’d first thought, and it was filled with lovely young men and women, both at the computers and serving refreshments. He realized uneasily that more and more heads were turning towards him, the bland faces sharpening with interest. “Ah, no, I’d just like to be on my way. I’m in a hurry.”
“Is there a problem here?” Another woman walked over from the front counter.
“He wants to leave,” the brunette said grimly, the blond man beside her nodding in support.
“I see.” The second woman — the redhead who had offered him wine, Q realized — eyed him with suspicion. “Is that true, sir? Are you trying to leave?”
“Yes. Why should that be an issue?” Q glanced around, his stomach sinking. Not only were they attracting attention, the others in the cafe had gotten up, and were gathering around them, looking not at all pleased.
“What’s going on?” Several people in the crowd asked, their voices overlapping.
“He wants to leave,” other voices answered.
The murmuring grew louder as the redhead folded her arms. “I’m afraid you can’t leave just now.”
“Watch me.” Q stepped around her and managed to work his way into a tiny, clear area in the aisle. He was still too far from the door, though. At least a dozen men and women blocked his way, each watching him intently. What did they want?
“The King told us you had to stay here,” the redhead explained. “Be reasonable. You enjoy researching. There’s all the tea and snacks you could ever want… as well as your choice of company.”
She sauntered over to lean against his side, toying with the top button on his shirt. She smiled up at him coquettishly. “There’s no need for your stay to be at all uncomfortable.”
Q licked his lips, eyes darting around the room as he desperately searched for an escape. “No, I, erm, thank you but no,” he stuttered, carefully removing her hand from the button near his throat. He inched away from her, then scrambled onto the nearest desk. From there, he hopped down, behind the worst of the crowd and headed to the door.
The redhead gaped at him in shock, then pointed at him and yelled, “Get him!”
Her words released the crowd. They swarmed after Q, their arms outstretched as they attempted to grab him, but he had left most of them behind. Now there were only a few ahead of him still that guarded the entrance.
Q lowered his head and charged through the group blocking his way. He swerved to avoid the reaching hands, shoved his shoulder into someone’s chest, knocking them back, and burst triumphantly through the door.
He was momentarily aware of bright sun on his face before he realized there was nothing under his feet but air and he was falling into a vast pit of darkness.
James could have grown bored watching Q being lured into the depths of the internet, but instead he was fascinated by the hints of the way Q’s mind worked. Every hint and clue Q tracked down was to help find the way through the labyrinth. To find him. James. Who had been doing his best to provoke a reaction in Q for months, trying to spark Q’s interest. It gave him an odd feeling of victory that here was the proof he’d succeeded. Except… “Come on, Q. You’re not finding anything useful. You must realize that by now…” he muttered under his breath.
As if hearing him, Q finally stood and attempted to leave the cafe.
James cast a worried glance at the number of people in the Internet cafe. Would they try to fight Q to keep him there?
He glanced at Alec, who had grown bored and decided to do something more fun. Which was, apparently, playing a strange version of checkers against a large goblin — using three of the smaller goblins. “Will they hurt Q?”
Alec didn’t look up from the game, just waved a negligent hand. “Potato, potahto.” He looked up then, meeting James’ eyes with a grin. “Pot-8-o’s.”
James stared at him. “Do I even want to know?” Then he shook his head. Not worth asking about. He looked into the crystal again, only to find Q facing off against the crowd in the cafe. He watched, tense, unable to help as Q fought his way free. He sat back with a sigh of relief as Q made it safely outside the cafe — only to abruptly disappear.
“Q!”
Q’s first thought when the ground unexpectedly vanished from beneath his feet, was, where did the sunlight go? Then he realized he was falling through darkness, the only light coming from a rapidly-shrinking circular view of the green sky overhead.
His second thought was for his glasses, but they were thankfully still on his face.
That he had time for a third thought after that was extremely worrying. How deep is this pit?
And still, he fell. Q tried to brace himself for a sudden landing, but he’d been falling so long, it almost seemed like he was floating in midair.
He was still falling, though now he was rushing towards a dim, green circle of light below, that was growing bigger and brighter every second. As he was better able to see, movement writhed among the shadows against the walls. He watched in horror as the movement clarified into dozens of grasping hands. They couldn’t reach him at the moment, but the walls of the pit were narrowing the longer he fell, and soon enough the tips of strange fingers poked at him. From there, they began clutching at him, tangling in his hair and pulling at his clothes. Were they trying to catch him? Or were they trying to force him down, deeper into the pit? Terror burst out of Q in a scream as he fell fell fell through the grasping hands.
Something slammed into him from behind, knocking the breath out of him, and engulfed him in unconsciousness.