the canary's gone awry

It's strange to see himself like this, sitting in a bath in the middle of the deep south of the US, his old life a mere memory behind him. The danger. The thrill. It's still there, it's just different, milder. It's been years and yet, he still doesn't know how to feel about it.

Quarantine has made him think about a lot of things in that vein is seems, given neither his previous employment nor his ex-partner have left his mind much since it started. More or less, he thought about both subjects more than his mind crossed to Phillip's state of mind for the day, which is a feat in itself. The man was an enigma, but he'd faced enigmas before.

His mission had been simple, assigned to him because, as Q, Geoffrey - his mind reminded him offhandedly, had personally delivered it to him. Q never delivered missions from The Crown unless it needed a evaluation before it was passed to an actual agent. Then again, he was surprised he was even speaking to him at all given it had only been a few months since their mutual breakup and the cold shoulder was still a temperature around vaguely icey.

He's not the first person Bond has had to give up for the job. Every person he'd met that even remotely interested him either ended up being left behind due to some factor or killed or goodness knows what else. He'd dated enough time sto know that despite being a spy, the occupation came with it's pitfalls. He was convinced after Geoffrey that he'd be alone forever.

Then came surprisingly, Phillip.

Bond's chest sunk deeper in the water as the computer sitting just a head above him on the balf shelf continued to play the rest of the soap he'd been tuning in and out of. Phillip was very unexpected. Truth be told, he was never supposed to be around Bond, let alone the rest which is now what others would consider history.

The man had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, a suspect in the knifing of one of the sect members Bond had taken out. Acting in his current identity, a American detective named Benoit Blanc, he had proven he was innocent and apparently, it was good enough for the police to let him go. Then, the thankful man invived him to dinner.

He should have just said no. That's what old him, the still regamented him, hisses as the bubbles flizzle like his blood did under his skin that night so long ago. He didn't say no, however, he accepted. They'd had a pleasant time, talking and laughing and drinking their weights in sherry and a whiskey or two. Phillip reminds him a little of Q, polished in a way, smart, curtianed off, but workable. Then, as he uses his time to solve the case he's on as he's not on vacation, he does the unthinkable.

He falls. Hard.

Phillip somehow twists the strings that hold in together inside and out. Q had gotten close, as had others, but not as close as Phillip had. Even speaking of his profession, hidden details of death and destrustion including kidnapping, hadn't made him flee in terror. Phillip was unshakeable, something James desperately needed. It made him dread all the more that once this was over, he would be leaving.

The moment comes when he's finished handing over all the information and he's sitting outside across from Phillip's offices, watching his mouth move and expression shift from a high up window. The sect had been caught, nothing blown up (a first) and it was all too calm. Then his phone rings. It's Q. He knows what's coming. He takes the call. "Q."

"Bond." Geoffrey's voice is friendly, but stern. He'd always been like that. Even if he was mostly terse, that was just his personality. For the months they were together, James had seen him in a way he thought little others had and he was grateful. The man deserved something better and Bond assured himself of that. Several times. "Mission done?"

"Mission done, yes." James shifted in his clothing, a tacky jumper, collared shirt underneath and chinos, his laced Oxfords on the gravel splattered ground. It had been raining recently, so he might have wet his legs, had he not chosen the bench furthest away from most of the rain puddles that had popped up. "The branch has mostly been all taken into custody thanks to the intel we dug up. It went very well."

"Good." Q's voice is curt, like he had just told him the weather, but then it lowered, becoming more empathic as he spoke into the receiver again. "How are you doing?"

James wants to answer fine. Adequate. Looking forward to the next mission. What comes out however is something rather unexpected. "I met someone."

"Oh?" He can hear Q's eyebrow raise though the receiver. It's warranted, he supposes, as he listens to the quartermaster start rifling though his papers. "Well, we always can use more American contacts, thena gain given the sate of things with the Crown and that bloody prince that fucked off over there-"

"It's...different to that." James cuts him off. The extended silence on the end of the line totures him to no end, before finally there's a sigh, before he speaks again. "I see." There's another stretch, contemplative in it's meaning this time, before he can hear the squeak of Q's chair again. "James, you don't I don't hate you, right?"

"You should." James offers and he can hear Geoffrey chuckle quietly, muffled by something before he agrees with him. "I should, but unlike most, I get it. Hauntingly ironic as it sounds given I've tried to plan date nights and ended up teaching men how to garrot others."

James chuckles this time, low in his chest. "You have a very particular set of skills, you could say."

"The one time I make you watch a spy film and you use it against me. Disgusting." Q's voice hisses and the other struggles to keep in his laughter when Q asks. "What's he like then?"

"He's..." What could James say about a man he'd only known for a handful of months? He could say plenty about Phillip, how he talked, how he dressed, how he laughed even, but there just wasn't anything to sum him up enough in James's eyes. Phillip was just...unsormontbly special. "He's something. Really something. A good man."

"Ah." Q's voice betrays his curiosity to ask more, but he knows better. Knowing him, he'll most likely find everything on him in half a day to loiter it over him. That or help invest in him like he feels like he wants to. He wants to know the ins and outs of Phillip's life, what he's like when no one's looking. An urge, like a itch needing to be scratched. It's a peculiar feeling he's not used to. Never experienced. Never known before.

Q's voice snaps him out of his daydream pretty quickly however, his words of 'So, what the hell do I tell M?' echoing his decent back to Earth and he sighs. Of course Q would need to tell M something. He's seemingly picked up Bond's not coming home anytime soon, so an excuse needs to be at the ready. He's full of them, but none good enough for weeks or even months of time. He couldn't exactly stretch a flu in the face of potential worldwide doom.

"I suppose you could tell him I'm on vacation for once." He suggests, just as he sees Phillip leaving the front doors of the library that connects it's building and his own, head down at his phone. "It's about time I took one, despite everything."

"What about after that?" Geoffrey questions. James just smiles, a hair behind Phillip as he catches up with him. "Think on it, Quartermaster. I'm sure you have a solution."

That had been almost 7 years ago now. Now, he's no longer James. James Bond had disappeared, a man fading into the background and AWOL from his job of protecting the scaredity of the crown. Instead, in his place, stands Benoit Blanc, an abnormal man, married to another man and living like a normal man. A man currently bored in a bath, lost in the thoughts of long ago.

Just as he's reaching peak of his thoughts on the whole matter, a notification from his still open computer startles him and he fails quickly, water splashing as he sits up and after calming down, dries his hands off to check it.

Ah, a message from Mrs. Lansbury. She, Stephen, Natasha and Kareem are planning to play a round of Among Us. She wants him to join. He likes a challenge. Navigating his mouse into the green, he clicks accept and the screen springs to life, his hand already at the ready to bring the game up on his iPad while his camera connects.

Let's see if he can finally beat them on The Skeld for once.