Title: Lacrimosa

"It's been eight and a half months, 007. It's time for you to let go."

Warning: Angst, 'why universe why' kind of fic, Character Death

Disclaimer: Skyfall isn't mine. The story is.

Summary: Q was in a coma because the villain that was trying to kill Bond hurt Q instead. Since the accident, the tall blond man always visited the Lily room number 007 regularly, talking to a motionless young man with dark hair about the mission he had just completed.



James couldn't believe he was here again.

After his last visit last month, he had thought he wouldn't be able to look at the man's face without pushing the urge to kill himself. James couldn't help it, yet here he was. He always came back.

There was a war in his head whether he entered the room or not. Hesitated. Hesitated as he stood in front of the Lily room number 007. The heart monitor inside the room went in faint rhythm; he could hear it as he opened the door eventually.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Steady rhythm, but slow.

The blonde winced. He hated the smell of hospital medicines. He hated the reason why he was here. He hated the fact that the small, thin figure that lied motionless inside that room with cables and life-support all over him was the one he cared the most.

His jaw tightened. He closed his eyes for a moment, finding the courage to walk across the room towards the bed. When James walked, it was soundless.

"Q," he whispered slowly. There was no smile. There was no sarcastic comment. There was nothing. The black haired man said nothing. James wished he could trick his mind into thinking that Q was just asleep. That he only closed his pretty eyes for a moment so he could find him back at MI6 headquarters safe and sound. But that would be lying to himself. That would be denying the truth.

He forced a smile. "Q, how are you doing?"

Well I feel great and I'm in comatose it's all because of you thank you very much, his mind supplied a respond. It didn't help James feeling any better. He shook his head.

James managed to get a chair and sat near the bed where Q slept. He stared at the sleeping man for a moment. "M gave me a new mission few weeks ago. I need to find someone for him in Vatican. I'd never been to Vatican before. Well I don't care about the old buildings and all the ancient church in that city, but I bet you do. You've always wanted to visit Paris. I think you'd like to visit Vatican too," he explained in a slow voice. He had his thumb rubbing Q's right palm. It felt cold.

Then another smile. "I ended up buying a map during my mission in Vatican, you know. You weren't there to tell me which path to take. You..−" James swallowed the lump in his throat. Suddenly he didn't want to be here.

"Please wake up, Q. I know you can." He said it calmly. But even an old man knew there was a hint of emotion in that voice. "Even Eve misses your presence. We're all do."

The agent planted a small kiss on top of Q's cold forehead before he left. The doctors had been cutting his pretty hair. There was a long stitch mark on his skull. But James didn't care. Q was still that handsome little dork in James' eyes.

The team found the man that had assassinated Q that day. Apparently, Viktor Ziglov was a Russian war veteran. The old man was paid by the man Bond was chasing after. No one could stop James, not even M. When they found the address, James flew to Russia and killed Viktor slowly and mercilessly. The next day he flew back to London to see Q again.

He didn't feel any better. Apparently, killing Viktor wouldn't bring Q back.

Visiting Q after a mission had become some kind of ritual for James. Nearly all the staffs knew him although no one had ever spoken to James. They just knew. 'That sad looking blonde guy' was a constant visitor in that hospital.

Months passed. M decided enough was enough.

James completed another mission. Thirty men and one woman died in Macau. There was nothing unusual in that. When he entered the Lily room, it was empty. He simply stared the empty bed unbelievingly. He wanted to laugh. Did I enter the wrong room?

"It's been eight and a half months, 007. It's time for you to let go."

James turned around and found M standing behind him. He stood still as the man walked around the room. "Brain damage, Bond. We could fix his lungs, even his nearly stopped heart. But the damage in his brain wasn't repairable. I'm so sorry."

He didn't feel anger nor disappointment. Funny, that. He just stood there staring at the other man.

M began to explain about the cremation and an official ceremony, but James said nothing. His eyes said nothing. "Go home. Take a rest," M said eventually before he left the room.

Home? He thought. But Q was home.

James Bond was homeless now.

He ended up staying at Q's flat. He still had the key.

Everything in that flat was covered by thin dust. All the things were exactly where the last time he had seen it. He remembered where the Van Gogh's fake paintings were hanged, or where Q had kept his Andrea Bocelli's album collection. He remembered every detail.

He didn't even bother to turn on the lamp. The agent just went straight to Q's bedroom.

Even after these months, the pillow still smelled like Q. It's funny how the smell was still there in his world when the owner of the smell wasn't anymore.

This is the truth James wanted to deny. He didn't want to believe Q was dead. He cursed his feelings as tears fell down on his face. He didn't sob, he didn't scream. James cried in an agonizing silence it brought him to sleep.

Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Q please hear me. I'm so sorry.

James wished he knew how to quit him. He really, really wished.


The next day he woke up, he was a different person. He went to work with somehow happier face than yesterday. He didn't visit the hospital anymore (he spent his spare time in a club instead, loud noises and all that). There was a new quartermaster and his name was L. It didn't bother James. He still had sex with every woman he met on his missions, and everything's okay. Both Eve and M saw this change but said nothing.

The moment he stepped out from that flat, he had already forgotten the existence of the dark haired man named Q.

A/N: OK bad grammar is bad I'm so sorry this fic is far from perfect. D: Reviews are more than welcome.