#Does the Master Emerald double as a learning aid?

[brucenorris007]

Who. Taught. Knuckles. Speech????

All y’all going on about Sonic being nonverbal in his early years, KNUCKLES LITERALLY RAISED HIMSELF.

He survived purely on the basis that basically nothing on Angel Island could kill him and his own wits

He was otherwise completely alone with only other nonverbal company for YEARS, probably close to a decade before Sonic and Tails came along

My only working theory is that Eggman used the entirety of his abandoned pursuit of a teaching degree to give the Echidna a grasp of language before Sonic caught up to the crashed Death Egg

This would also explain the unfortunate instances of occasional sexism from Knuckles in some of his earlier iterations; Eggman would tell you nowadays that he was never That Guy, but he absolutely was and still is That Guy

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write Day 2

Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard OR diverging from the normal type.

CONTENT WARNING: asshole parents denigrating their child with sexually charged language

"Master? A letter arrived for you."

Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn looked up from the stack of documents with an irritated expression at the servant who'd interrupted him, a hyuran male of fair skin and hair.  "Well, boy? Who is it from then? Twelve save you if this isn't worth interrupting my very important work!"

The man went even paler. "I....I don't know, master. The envelope was not signed. The post markings indicate that it originated in Eorzea, but otherwise the only marking is that of a small green axe. I don't know..."

Ahldblaet's eyes, normally perpetually narrowed due to being deep set in his face, widened in shock. "Give that here!" he shouted. "And be gone with you!"

The servant scurried over to Ahldblaet's massive desk and practically dropped the envelope on the nearest corner before fleeing with all haste, as though for his life. Ahldblaet immediately snatched it from the stack of parchment it had fallen on and inspected the markings that the servant had mentioned.

"Husband?" a voice called from the side door that led from his office further into the home.  Said door opened and a shorter Roegadyn woman stepped through, her ash-colored skin in marked contrast to the sea-blue dress she wore. Her dark grey hair framed a face that wore an annoyed expression. "What is all this bellowing about? You are disturbing my guests. It is...unseemly."

Ahldblaet turned his severe gaze upon the new entrant. He was tall and exceptionally broad, a picture of strength in his youth, but his body had taken on a measure of fat in his older age and more sedentary work. Despite this, and his balding head of hair, his steely eyed expression still cowed many of the people he dealt with on a day to day basis. "It would seem, wife, that the enormous investment we have paid into those mercenaries we dispatched to Eorzea may have finally borne fruit. This is a missive their leader sent me. After our last communication I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to contact me until he had something of note to report. Unless he has foolishly ignored my orders, this would mean he has something."

The woman was not cowed, having long becoming immune to her husband's glares. Impatiently she gestured to the envelope. "Well, open it then, you great oaf!  Maybe we will finally learn where our daughter vanished to!"

Ahldblaet tore the envelope and removed the missive inside. He began to read aloud, knowing from prior experience if he did not, his wife would snatch the paper from his hands mid-sentence. She was not a patient one.

"Masters Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,

I am please to report that after much time and hard work on the part of the Emerald Marauders, we have located your wayward daughter. Furthermore, we have determined the reasoning as to why she evaded both us and every previous mercenary company your lordship sent to retrieve her

First, your daughter is no longer using her given name of Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn. Asking after that name yielded no results, aside from the merchants who recognized it only as pertaining to you. By sheer luck, we eventually stumbled across a Roegadyn language scholar who knew the translation of her first name and directed us to an adventurer known as 'Fearless Willow', one of the Warriors of Light.

I am hoping the story of the Warriors of Light does not require an explanation for your lordship, but I will remind you that these people are slayers of godlike beings who regularly enslave the minds of mortals around them, have engaged massive numbers of Garlean soldiers and magitek armor, defeated Imperial Legatuses in single combat (including the Crown Prince), and decisively ended a thousand-year war between a dragon horde and the nation of Ishgard.

From there, we set out to determine if this woman and your daughter are one and the same. It is well known that one of the Warriors of Light is in fact a Roegadyn woman, but we needed to be certain. Adventurers are often well traveled and thanks to the Aetheryte network, difficult to track. Your descriptions were also primarily of the physical sort, which did not help, as appearances are easy enough to change.

We caught a break in speaking to one of the mercenary crews you'd previously hired. Many of them had been either entirely wiped or or reduced in numbers to the degree that they'd disbanded. What few remained refused to speak with us once it became clear who we were tracking. One particular mercenary of an Ala Mhigan band (known as the Graybear Den, which if you recall abruptly returned your payment and refused the contract) however, let slip some valuable information after our agents plied him with enough drink. Once he realized who we were speaking of, he grew agitated and swore he would never help us find 'the Warrior o' Light". It would seem the Graybears believe they owed a measure of loyalty to the Warriors of LIght for their instrumental parts in liberating their homeland.

It was, however, enough. Once we determined that your daughter and this Warrior of Light were in fact one and the same, we began looking for ways to isolate her and take her prisoner. Unfortunately this has proven extremely difficult. As they are involved in affairs that affect the entirety of the star, the Warriors of Light are often on the move, moreso than normal adventurers. Furthermore, as I have mentioned, they are peerless warriors, often in each other's company or those of their fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If you don't know the order, suffice to say they are Warriors and Scholars both who labor on behalf of all peoples to defend the world against tyranny and false gods. They are exceptionally successful in this regard. The Scions often meet and collaborate with the leaders of various powers on this continent, who are often accompanied by their own soldiers or bodyguards.

We have remained patient however, and managed to catch a glimpse of her. As I mentioned was likely, she has extensively changed her appearance. Her hair is now of a longer cut and nearly all black, with only highlights of the teal you had mentioned remaining. She has also taken to wearing dark makeup.

We have also determined that unlike her fellow Warriors of Light, she does not dwell in the Scion's headquarters. Instead, she has taken to living in the Hingashi port city of Kugane, where she has a modest home in the district of the city reserved for foreigners.

Finally, and you may wish to brace her ladyship for this part, she does not live there alone. Our spies have reported that her home is occupied by two other women, and their observations of them interacting within the city indicates that the three of them are lovers

We believe that this is our best shot at capturing her, but the price for her return to you has just doubled.

You are doubtless shaking with rage, but you hired us to retrieve a woman that you led us to believe would provide minimal resistance. Even isolated from the other Scions in Kugane, we believe we will face extreme resistance in this job. For starters, your daughter has mastered several forms of combat, including the ways of the Hingashi samurai, the axe-masters of Abalathia's Spine, and the art of thaumaturgy. She is also known to wield the Sharlayan art of Astrology, and has mastered a form of dance from Radz-at-Han that wields circular blades with deadly precision.

Furthermore, Fearless Willow is a known and loved name within the borders of Kugane, despite being a foreigner in a city that remains neutral to all concerns beyond their borders. She was instrumental in aiding their geomancers in repelling an attack from a fox-like beast known as 'Kinko' and she also trained alongside the Sekiseigumi (the samurai order that enforces the laws of the city, brutally so) and helped them put down a rebellion from within their own ranks. One of her lovers is a high ranking member of the Sekiseigumi. The other is a member of her dance troupe who is on an extended tour in the city. She is every bit as deadly in the art as Fearless is.

The point is that, even isolated from the other Scions, many people will rush to her aid. We expect heavy resistance and significant losses. The original reward will not suffice to cover this.

We will not move forward with this operation until we have your confirmation of acceptance of the new price. And we suggest you hurry, as events brewing suggest your daughter will soon be called back to the fight, at which point it is impossible to tell when we will have another opportunity

Cmdr Guji Pokiji Chief Executive, Emerald Marauders  

Ahldblaet set the letter on his desk, shaking with rage as he looked to his wife."How DARE that miniscule INSECT think to extort us?? A Warrior of Light, indeed. As if our useless fool of a daughter has the brains to take on even one sort of combat discipline, much less five! How gullible does he THINK us to be?"

Usynwyda nodded, a disgusted sneer on her face. "The NERVE of her, to merely toss aside the name we chose for her, only to refer to herself in the....ugh...common tongue! Still, the name cannot be a coincidence. Whatever other lies that little gnat undoubtedly told, this is the best lead we have had on Syhrwyda since she ran away."

"It is. And if they are not all lies, then it is all the more imperative we retrieve her before word of any of this gets out among our enemies. The very idea that she would toss aside the husband we painstakingly chose for her after careful selection and delicate negotiation in favor of laying with another woman, much less two! I worried she would do stupid things, but this level of degeneracy, of abberance? It is unconscionable!"

Usynwyda shuddered. "We cannot let this get out. I can never face any of the ladies if they should learn my daughter has become no better than some...common whore. We must marry her off to the Greinmyrgan boy with all haste before she does any further damage to us, to the company."

Ahldblaet scribbled furiously. "I am already writing orders to have our ship made ready and for our elite guards to prepare for a journey. We will find her and we end this nonsense."

Far away, in Kugane, the Warrior of Light known as Fearless Willow shuddered as she prepared to fall asleep. She had no ping from the Echo, no signal from her finely honed danger sense to explain it, but she definitely felt as if trouble was heading her way, and no idea what it might be.

[petaldancing]

fic: for all the times i can’t reverse

fandom: pokespe characters: sapphire, ruby summary: ten years later, they strike a new deal read: on AO3 or below

notes: for gret, who gave me the prompt: "don't ignore me" P.S. i haven't finished the ORAS arc, so not sure if this is canon-compliant, P.P.S. for pokemon nicknames, i use chuang yi's translations cause that's what i grew up reading

have i come a long way from 50 frantic ways? *shrug* but i’m still a sucker for these two a literal decade on

----

Over the years, Sapphire has attempted all manner of confession: face-to-face under torrential rain, hand in hand standing before the possible end of the world, foolishly through Gold, a bit more gently through Crys, yelling mid-argument, and then, softly, when there is no one else around but them.

Likewise, Ruby has mastered all tactics of avoidance: pushing her off Pilo’s back, using imminent disaster as distraction, pretending not to hear her, feigning ignorance, keeping his big mouth shut for once .

She does not know when she grows out of this back and forth and stops trying. Maybe it is when she is sixteen or eighteen. She’s twenty-one now, and looking back at the last few years, her friendship with Ruby has improved. They still argue, but it’s less these days. (Emerald would be proud of ‘em, if he bothered to step out of his lab to notice.) Their fights are no longer about unrequited feelings or ten-year old love confessions. It’s more like: which way to go when they’ve gotten lost, or how her new clothes aren’t colour-coordinated, stuff that they can laugh about, stuff that can be either ‘right’ or ‘wrong’. You can’t really do that with feelings.

Part of why they fight less is because they talk less too. The Petalburg Gym is always expecting new challengers and she hasn’t had a break since she took over Norman three years ago. Having this job takes her mind off nagging thoughts, pushes her to keep training, adapting to new trainers and their partner pokemon visiting from regions she’s never had the luxury to travel to. On the rare afternoons she can afford to leave the gym early, she treks through the lush forests encircling the city, retracing the steps of her childhood backyard.

As she walks with Toro, she thinks about new strategies, designs for the gym, what she’ll have for dinner, and on days she passes by her old Secret Base—Ruby. Unlike the past, when the thought of him would make her scowl, now it is more often accompanied by a sigh, maybe a sheepish grin if she is in a good mood. It’s not just because she’s mellowed a bit since her anxious teenage days. It’s because he’d spent a lot of effort on the old Secret Base, dolling it up and even adding a tent with pillows inside for her in case she spent a night in the forest. “Though I’ll never understand why anyone would want to,” he’d sneer, as if begging to start another fight.

Now, he’s always in Lilycove judging those Pokemon Contests. But once a month, she’ll receive a parcel from him with something fancy to clip in her hair and this particular brand of Pokemon food that Toro and the rest like to eat. It’s shipped in from Kanto, and Lilycove is the cheapest place to get it. Usually Ruby includes a hurried note like “Mimi’s gotten even prettier” or “I found the perfect fabric today” or “I’ll visit soon”, though the third time she receives this particular sign off, Sapphire takes it with a grain of salt.  

She hasn’t been to the old base in awhile, but today is special. She weaves through the twisty paths of the woods until the leaves open up to the entrance of the long abandoned Secret Base. The sound of dry leaves and twigs crunches under the soles of her boots. All the memories she and Ruby made here, it’d been before they got proper jobs and stopped hanging out, before they cleared out the entire base, before she gave up on him replying her confessions.

She remembers stumbling into the base after getting into a nasty fight with a group of territorial Mightyena, and how Ruby brandished a first aid kit and stitched the deepest cut up. And the other time, when he surprised her with a cake on her birthday and didn’t get too upset when she couldn’t resist smashing a slice into his face. And the time when they both fell asleep waiting for the rain to stop, and she dreamt that he’d touched her cheek and whispered something she couldn’t hear. And, the very first time they met—their 80-day bet. So many things changed in the span of those 80 days.

Sapphire double checks the date on her PokeNav. Ten years ago on this day, she swung from a vine and saved a helpless Ruby. Ten years ago, she reunited with the little, fierce boy who saved her when she’d been helpless.

In the middle of this tranquil forest, Sapphire shuts her eyes and feels the warm sunlight on her skin. How much has changed the past decade? She’s proven her worth as a gym leader, she’s met and learned from so many other Dex Holders and pokemon masters, she’s become a braver and wiser person. So what if the only thing that she hasn’t gotten better at is dealing with Ruby? So what if she can’t help but come back to this sentimental spot even though she should’ve grown up and moved on by now?

Just then, she hears a rustle from inside the Secret Base.

Toro readies its fists as Sapphire jumps back and lands on all fours. “Who’s there? Come out!” she growls at the darkness.

“Easy. It’s just me.”

Toro lowers its talons and squawks, immediately recognising the voice.

Ruby steps out into the light, a hand adjusting the frame of his spectacles. He’s stopped wearing his goofy hat, and looks a lot like his dad now. Except, his eyes are kinder. They’ve always been. Zuzu the Swampert appears beside him, greeting them with mild-mannered coos.

“What’re you doing here? You spooked me!” Sapphire asks as she stands upright, more surprised than angry. Zuzu and Toro are much more agreeable with one another, bounding off to play fight in a pile of leaves.

“Very nice to see you again too,” Ruby says with a dash of sarcasm, and inches back when she shoots him a dirty look. “Just thinking of redecorating, I suppose,” he relents, propping a hand on his chin. He examines the mouth of the cave with a measuring tape as Sapphire stands aside, jaw slack. “Remember how this used to look? I must admit it was one of my best interior design projects. I don’t think I gave myself a proper pat on the back for that. No matter, I’ve already got ideas for how to make Secret Base 2.0 even more fabulous!”

Sapphire doesn’t understand what’s happening. Trust Ruby to be the sort of person who you miss, and then immediately want gone when he’s actually around. “That was when we were kids! What… what’s the use of coming back here now? Don’t you have a job?”

Ruby glances over his shoulder mid-measurement and raises an eyebrow. “Pot calling kettle black, much?”

Sapphire sucks in a breath and stands her ground. “This is my neck of the woods! I can come here whenever I want!”

“You know how I never really liked spending time at that house with my dad around? This place is about the closest place I’d call home for me, at least in Hoenn. Lilycove is nice and clean and all, and I hate to admit it, but I was starting to miss this place.” Ruby does not turn around when he says this, but watching the firm line of his chin and the hand he runs along the cave wall, Sapphire can tell that he’s being serious.

“And today’s our anniversary, isn’t it? Of the day we met.” He spins on his heel to finally face her.

Sapphire wills herself not to blush like a thirteen-year old, and it is easy when she thinks about how Ruby shouldn’t be allowed to use that word.  

“Pfft. Anniversary? Ain’t that reserved for lovey-dovey couples? Who gave you permission to call it that?” Sapphire feels her heart sting at this, and hopes that it hurts Ruby too, even just a fraction.

The expression on his face shifts, from classic, nonchalant, above-it-all Ruby to a more neutral one. He presses his lips together and slowly winds the measuring tape around his knuckles, fidgeting with his hands.

“Will you help me rebuild the Secret Base, Sapph’?” he tries to change the topic.

“Why should I? I don’t come here anymore.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Ruby points out.

Sapphire sputters. “That’s—argh! Look, maybe to you it’ll be a fun and easy project, something to getcha’ mind off the stress of work. Whatever. This place means a lot more to me than you, and I ain’t in the mood to be a part o’ your flights o’ fancy.”

“It means a lot to me too.” Ruby stares at her, his mouth curving into a frown.

The words burst from Sapphire before she can contain them: “Then why didn’t you come back sooner?”

Her emotions have gotten to him and he fires back without filtering his words either. “I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know when would be a good time. I didn’t know how scary and disgusting the cave would be. I… I didn’t know how to tell you that I missed you, Sapph’.”

Hearing this from Ruby, the Ruby who is supposed to be selfish, the Ruby she hates, the Ruby she loves, Sapphire clenches her hand into a fist. She does not say a word, instead choosing to glare at him, daring him to continue.

To his credit, he does. “I know I’ve been a Gold-level jerk about it, but I’m not good with words. Running away? Making anything look pretty? All that’s easier than talking about feelings.” Ruby straightens his posture and removes his spectacles, so that he’s looking directly at her. “But Sapph’, all the times we’ve spent and all the times we’re going to spend—they’re important to me too. They’ve always been. I was too young and immature to face it. I’m trying to get better at it. Ten years is a long time to do nothing, and I don’t want to spend the next ten years not doing anything.”

Sapphire bites down on her lip, suppressing the urge to shout at the top of her lungs, to point and laugh at how their roles have reversed. To give him payback for all these years of chasing and dodging and convenient amnesia, hasn’t that been something she’s always wanted?

But Ruby’s words also cause her to think about everything she’s been through with him. She wouldn’t call it ‘doing nothing’. It’s everything but that. Haven’t they been through thick and thin together since their very first adventure? Haven’t they saved the world and held hands more times than she can count? Sure, they never talked about what they meant to each other, but at the end of the day, she knew that Ruby had her back. That he’d be there, always with a new set of clothes for whatever reason, and how she loved wearing the stuff he made even though she was too embarrassed to admit it.

Maybe she should have paid more attention to what Ruby did for her, instead of the stuff he refused to say. Maybe she’s been just as much of an immature brat as him.

“Don’t ignore me,” Ruby says in a soft voice. It is the voice of someone who is guilty, who knows that they don’t deserve a reply, not after what they’ve done, and not done.

For all the mistakes Ruby has made, Sapphire is sure she’s made some too. And Ruby, he never really left her alone, even when they had huge, ugly fights. Even when they were cities apart. He always found a way to show that he was still thinking of her, with sparkly hair clips she only wore on special occasions, and a bag of food that wasn’t meant for her.

Sapphire clears her throat and says, “I’ll help you rebuild the base, on one condition.”

Ruby visibly gulps. “What?”

“Take me out on a date.” She puts her hands on her hips.

He blinks a few times, as if he can’t quite process what she just said.

“Deal?” she asks with a chuckle. It’s funny, seeing Ruby caught off guard.

“Alright,” Ruby concedes at last. Instead of looking defeated, he smiles.

Sapphire lifts her hand up for a handshake. When Ruby takes her hand in his, it is a warm and familiar feeling. It reminds her of deep seas and heavy floods and relentless droughts and soaring through the skies. Of soft, blurry afternoons playing in the grass, childish laughter ringing in the air.

“It’s a deal.”

[that-is-vexing]

I started writing this at 1:40 AM, fueled by three cups of coffee. It is now 4:12 AM and I’m crying steadily.

R is not welcome, has never been welcome, will never be welcome. He is an outsider, an outlier. He is a black-hat-turned-white and no one trusts him.

They only took him because he was too dangerous to leave alone. They stuck him in a cell, forced him to undo all the damage he’d inflicted, and then they brought him to this... Q-branch. The Quartermaster, Boothroyd, had said, “I have a job for you, son.”

R had said nothing.

“It will test you.”

Nothing has tested him since he was in nappies.

“It’ll be thankless and no one will trust you.”

He doesn’t want trust.

“You’ll be under watch every moment, but we’ll give you free reign. On everything but us.”

He’d twitched. “...Everything?”

Boothroyd had smiled, and R had found a ruthless soul to match his own. “Absobloodylutely.”

~

R is hated.

He is too good at his job. He is too clever, too quiet, too obedient, too ruthless. He does what he’s told, as long as what he’s told is interesting. He does no menial chores, takes no punishments. Boothroyd hates him too, often casts him dark and suspicious looks. But R is too clever. No one can ever pin anything on him.

He does no harm to the United Kingdom. The rest of the world, however... oh, it is his playground. He makes fools of corrupt governments. He exposes his former “friends”, because they would do the same in his position. He aids in the arrest of foreign leaders. He chooses sides and plays the world like chess.

All of this, he does from his computer in Q-branch.

Sometimes he takes over handling a mission. He is R, after all. The agents hate him, too, but he never leads them wrong. It is safe here, in the bowels of MI6. He will not lose this precarious safety.

~

He is walking briskly down a hall, tapping away on his tablet, when they jump him.

They have been threatening to for months. He has mastered several forms of self-defense in that time, and he puts his training to good use. Nevertheless, fists and feet land, and he begins to feel it. There are ten of them, and they are trained, too. They didn’t expect him to fight back, but they have numbers.

He fights dirty. Someone screams. He doesn’t care. They won’t stop until he is dead. He will fight until then.

Suddenly, two others enter the fray. They seem to be on his side, but they do not break bones like he does; they simply and efficiently remove people from the equation. Finally, the only three standing are R and the two newcomers.

They are both taller than him, broader, blond; one has blue eyes and the other has green. They are looking at R with curious expressions. He looks around, finds his tablet (remarkably intact), picks it up, and begins to walk away.

“Your lip is bleeding,” one of the blonds calls after him.

“Yes, I know,” he answers over his shoulder, and turns the corner.

~

“So that’s him.”

James sighs and looks around at the ten groaning junior agents sprawled on the floor. “Yes, I suppose it was,” he murmurs.

Alec grins. “Fights like a wildcat,” he comments.

“Looks like a kitten.”

“Those ones are the most fun.”

James sighs again at the familiar glint in Alec’s eye. “You can’t have him. He’s a black hat.”

“Even better. Come on, let’s get out of here, before the little ones wake up.”

~

R is no longer simply hated; he is feared.

He walks into Q-branch with a split lip, two black eyes, and a limp, but he is calm and efficient and pays no attention to the pain. He’s had worse.

Boothroyd calls R into his office five minutes after R sits down. He pushes his chair back, locks his computer, and walks over.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking?!” Boothroyd bursts out, glaring, as soon as the soundproof door is closed. “You’ve made enemies of the whole agency now!”

“With respect, sir, everyone was already an enemy,” R answers matter of factly.

For some reason, that makes Boothroyd pause, and squint at him. R returns his gaze steadily. Everyone is an enemy. He learned that when his mother, the only person he ever loved, tried to drown him. Everyone wants you dead for some reason or another. Fight back, or you’ll find out which Hell is the real one.

“Haven’t you got any allies?” Boothroyd asks softly.

R shakes his head, gingerly. “They all hate me. It’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

All R can do is shrug.

~

His wounds heal. No one attacks him again.

The blond men, he knows now. 006 and 007. They seem fascinated by R, cautiously. He ignores them. They hang around Q-branch, ask questions about R. They follow him around sometimes. He finds out later that they’re the reason no one has tried to knife him yet. He shrugs when he learns this, and moves on with his life.

And then he’s handler for 007.

At first it’s just the boring monotony of ordering the agent around. Then 007 breaks from R, and he frowns, but adapts to the change in plans. Then 007 breaks the plan, again, and again, and again. R grows angry; what, does 007 think R doesn’t know what he’s doing? Does he think this is funny?

“Obviously, you can do this on your own,” R finally snaps. “Goodbye, 007.”

“What? R, wait--”

But R has already disconnected.

Boothroyd is angry, of course. R lays out his arguments patiently, and waits for Boothroyd to have that heart attack he’s been threatening ever since R entered the picture, four years ago now. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns on the comms and barks, “007, report!”

“Thank fucking christ! Whip that fucking arsehole of a child, will you?” 007 spits furiously amidst a hail of gunfire. “I’m pinned down. Am I on camera?”

R clicks a few keys and 007 pops up on screen. “Yes,” Boothroyd grinds out, worry tightening his face. R finds this fascinating, that Boothroyd... what is the word? Cares. Boothroyd cares if these overgrown children live or die. R doesn’t. But he sits quietly and does what Boothroyd tells him to.

~

He isn’t allowed to handle any more missions. He’s fine with that. It gives him more time to work on his engineering, coding, and hacking. It doesn’t seem possible for everyone to hate him even more, but they do. 007 is something of a favorite.

R remains on his toes for a full year after the incident where he left 007 for dead. He doesn’t even relax in his cell, where he spends his nights when he isn’t pulling all-nighters on difficult or fiddly bits of work. He cat-naps. He takes to testing his food and tea for poison. He remains wary always, although not quite paranoid.

Suddenly, on the one year anniversary of the Incident, 007 enters Q-branch and heads straight for R. People scurry out of his way, all with triumphant smirks and evil glee glittering in their eyes. They think 007 is about to kill R.

R doesn’t ever turn from his computer. “Hello, 007,” he greets the man absently.

“Hello, R,” 007 replies coolly. He watches R work for a moment, then asks suddenly, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Green,” R answers, picking a color at random. “Why?”

“No reason.” And 007 walks out of Q-branch.

~

006 brings R a package two days later, grinning like a shark, all teeth and coldness. He sets the package down on a corner of R’s desk and says cheerfully, “Special delivery, courtesy of the double-0 program.”

R looks up at him, patiently awaiting explanation.

But 006 doesn’t want to talk. He simply wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave and saunters out of Q-branch.

R doesn’t open the package--a plain brown shipping box--until five minutes before he’s to be escorted back to his cell. He finds a boxcutter somewhere and opens the box.

Inside is a cardigan of a deep emerald green. R frowns, takes out his scanner, and touches the device to the cardigan. The scanner senses no unpleasant surprises. So he takes it out, carefully, and lays it flat over his desk, which is remarkably clean. It’s... lovely.

There’s a card at the bottom of the box. All it says is “007″.

“Huh,” R murmurs, and packs the cardigan away again.

He wears it the next day. It is quite comfortable.

~

When he finds a rat nibbling at the firewalls, he engages it in combat.

They are good. They are very good. But they aren’t R. He defeats them, and sends a report to Boothroyd.

The rat returns the next day. And the next. And the next. R frowns, rebuilds the firewalls (after getting approval from Boothroyd, of course), and traces the source. No, it’s bouncing all over the globe. It would take him months to properly trace it, even if he were a robot (which he often wishes he were).

007 is killed at some point, but it’s barely a blip on R’s radar, even though everyone else goes into deep mourning.

006 walks into Q-branch the day after the announcement. He’s unshaven, unkempt, wild-eyed and hideously angry. He slams a bottle of some expensive scotch on R’s desk, making him twitch.

“Drink with me,” he demands.

“I’m busy,” R murmurs.

But 006 has already poured a generous serving into R’s empty tea-mug. R sighs quietly and obediently takes a sip. It’s very good.

006 sits beside R, brooding, watching him fight the Rat, drinking straight from the bottle. When the bottle is finished, 006 plants a wet kiss on R’s cheek and leaves.

R stares after him, surprised. It’s the first time anyone’s broken through his haze of coding since he was a child.

And the Rat takes the opening.

~

When the building blows, R survives, although his leg is broken by a falling chunk of ceiling.

Boothroyd does not survive.

At first, the news does nothing to him. Then something snaps in his chest. His chin wobbles. His eyes widen. His heart throbs with pain he’s not felt since the failed drowning.

And then he’s crying, sobbing, ugly and rusty and bent in half by this sudden up-welling of pain he’s never felt before. Not even when his little sister died in his arms. He clutches his chest and stomach and cries until his head is a solid cannonball of pain and his eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets and his throat is raw from restrained screams. How can anyone feel this kind of pain and survive?

Survive he does.

He will always survive.

He doesn’t want to anymore.

~

Maybe he’d loved Boothroyd, he doesn’t know. As a father, as a friend, it doesn’t matter. The point is that he shouldn’t have lived when a good man like Boothroyd is dead.

He tries to kill himself, injecting himself with immense quantities of morphine, but the doctors revive him. He will live. He must live, they insist. He is Q now. He must live; he is Q now.

He wants to scream at them, claw at their eyes, for daring to suggest that R could ever take Boothroyd’s place. He wants to die. He just wants to die.

M herself comes to his hospital room and scolds him like a child. He cries again. Confesses. Confesses everything.

“I can’t,” he sobs when he’s wound down. “I can’t, I just can’t.”

“You can and you will,” M says with an iron will.

R will never believe her.

~

James and Alec visit the new Q. He’s still shaking, pale, fragile, like if you touched him wrong he’d shatter into dust; but he walks, and stands, and orders his subordinates around. They do as he says, quiet and obedient. The way the new Q had crumbled so completely, and then built his walls again in a night, is impressive. Frightening.

James and Alec have faced more than their share of frightening people. But the new Q still makes them uneasy.

Neither smile when Q looks at them. There’s a distant pain still in his eyes, and he doesn’t seem to see them.

“Ah, yes. You’re here for your kits,” Q says, and his voice is distant too. “Jenny can help you.”

James and Alec glance at each other. Then they move off to Jenny, who’s already got their briefcases out.

“How is he?” James asks lowly when they’re in reach.

Jenny chews her bottom lip, glancing at Q. “He’s... not good,” she whispered back. “He won’t use Q’s--Boothroyd’s office. He won’t eat. He won’t drink anything except tea. I think he’s seriously trying to kill himself.”

~

R is escorted to his cell, refuses food, drinks only subpar tea, reads John Keats until the letters begin to blur on the page. Then he curls up under his thin blanket and cries himself to sleep. As usual.

~

When Silva hacks them, he wants to die.

The only thing that keeps him from going to his office and overdosing on pain medication is 007 demanding his help.

“You do recall what happened the last time we tried this.”

“Please.”

Q is so desperate to repent, to repay, that he agrees. And he agrees again, when 007 asks for a trail of breadcrumbs. And he agrees quietly when 007 mutters, his voice cracked with grief, “We’re all fools, aren’t we?”