Summary: Coda to "Crash and Burn." The beginning of a beautiful friendship, set in 2008. Featuring Tanner and Q (who's not yet Q at this point), with a splash of protective former double-oh (Q's father). Basically, we find out what Q's father was up to during "Crash and Burn" (read: causing chaos, ex-double-oh style), and we learn that a bored genius is a bad thing for the global economy.

You really, really need to read "Crash and Burn" to understand this.

This is sort of my attempt to sort of redeem M in the eyes of my readers (Breval, I hope this helps you like her a little better! - She was just really, really fed up with Damien wreaking havoc at MI6 AND with Alec disobeying her orders, which was why she was so harsh in "Crash and Burn"). M doesn't actually appear in this fic, but it shows why she was in such a bad mood.

This story is written in Tanner's POV. I like Tanner. He's a background character (sort of quiet, and a bit of a wallflower), but he gets shit done. You see that he's a bit more casual with Q in Skyfall than with other people, so I wanted to explore how that started.

Title from Richard III by Shakespeare. Tanner and Q are both Shakespeare buffs (actor allusion).


Have No Delight to Pass Away the Time

September 2008

Bill Tanner paused in the hallway outside of the room in Medical assigned to one Daniel Drake (aka Robert Frobisher, aka the teenaged darling of Q-Branch, aka the son of one of the most dangerous men in Britain) and sighed.

He wondered briefly what he was doing here. After all, the boy's father would not be over-eager to see any MI6 employees again, save for his son's medical team (oh, irony: double-ohs were famous for trying to keep away from medical staff). However, it was Tanner's job as Chief of Staff to see to the wellbeing of said staff as best he could, and the young man had just had his first major work-related traumatic event, courtesy of a mission gone wrong.

Tanner knew from experience that it was very difficult to get over one's first encounter with violent death, and the double-oh agent who had accompanied the young Q-Branch tech had practically died in his arms. A bit much for an eighteen-year-old to handle, on top of surviving a plane crash in the middle of a desert.

Right.

With that, Tanner gave a decisive nod and entered the room after a brief knock at the door.

Both men - one in the hospital bed and the other beside it in a chair - looked up at his entrance.

Danny Drake looked apprehensive (understandable, since the last time he had seen Tanner had been at his post-mission debriefing, and he had emerged from it rather traumatized). The fingers of his uncasted arm stroked the fluff of gray fur in his lap anxiously. It occurred to Tanner that he hadn't asked where the kitten had come from, nor whether it had been there throughout the entirety of the young man's stay in Medical. It ought to get checked out by a vet if it hadn't been already.

His father, on the other hand, looked thunderous. No, not only thunderous, but murderous as well.

Tanner gulped, feeling phantom fingers close around his throat again. Damien Drake had walked in on the tail end of his son's teary debrief and had been furious. Needless to say, Tanner was not eager to meet the man again.

"Mr. Tanner?"

Right.

"Frobisher," Tanner said, addressing the younger Drake by his current alias, as was proper. He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, sir. Thank you," Danny Drake responded politely.

He had broken his arm and leg in the plane crash, and had also suffered extreme sunburn and dehydration in the hot desert sun. The leg had required surgery, as the ragged ends of the bone had broken through the skin, but the wound had become infected. Danny had spent much of the last five days back in London in a feverish state, though he was now on the mend...physically, at least. Psych, in their last report, recommended medical leave for at least a month and therapy for at least six.

"Good, good," Tanner said tightly, feeling himself shrivel under the intensity of Danny's father's glare.

Danny frowned in confusion, then realization dawned. "Dad," he hissed at his father, "Stop that!"

"Stop what?" the former 007 said with implausible innocence.

"Stop glaring at Mr. Tanner!" Danny said, looking both embarrassed and annoyed. "He's the Chief of Staff, for goodness sakes!"

"And?"

"You're interfering with my future career prospects by being rude to people, Dad. And- And you've been prowling around scaring everyone, haven't you?" Danny accused, narrowing his eyes at his father.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean."

"Mr. Tanner, I'm terribly sorry for whatever my father did," Danny apologized with a pained grimace. "How many times have you had to throw him out?"

Tanner looked between the two Drakes and weighed his choices.

"Please tell me."

Tanner cleared his throat. "A few times," he hedged.

"That's all?" It seemed that Danny Drake knew his father rather well.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Besides, Tanner had the feeling that this skinny young man was much more than he seemed; after all, he had managed to befriend 006, one of the more volatile agents on the double-oh roster. Not only that, but a few of the other double-ohs were on friendly terms with him, which really shouldn't surprise Tanner quite so much.

"After the sixth time we escorted him out," Tanner said carefully, "we unfortunately had to put him in holding. He was disrupting the workplace." Which was putting it mildly.

Danny groaned, closing his eyes as though dreading what came next. "I assume he escaped? He didn't cause too much destruction on his way out, did he?"

"A few of our men were knocked out. No major injuries."

Danny sighed heavily and glared at his father, who was beginning to look a little sheepish around the mouth. "That's not all, is it, sir?"

"We also caught him hacking the system trying to get the information on your whereabouts."

"Dad!"

Damien Drake, true to his nature, shrugged nonchalantly. "One does not raise a genius hacker without picking up a few tricks."

"Too bad said genius hacker was the one who beefed up security," Danny snarked back.

"Yes, pity. Otherwise I would have been there when you woke up as I should have been."

"You-" Danny broke off, then put his face in his hands with a groan. "Why do you have to be so embarrassing, Dad? I have to work with these people, you know. They might decide that having you breathing down their necks every time I get a papercut isn't worth it and give me the pink slip."

"I assure you," Tanner said, beginning to feel a little more amused than nervous, "that is very unlikely, though we'd rather not have any more incidents like this. You are an extremely valuable asset, Frobisher."

"Then bloody treat him that way," Damien Drake growled, making Tanner take a step back. "You almost got him killed!"

"Dad!" Danny exclaimed, "Being picked for this mission meant that they thought I'd be able to handle it. And I did. I did great, actually. And what's more, if they want me to go on another one, I will," he said, tilting his chin up stubbornly.

"Danny," Drake said, suddenly deflating. Instead of the intimidating former double-oh sat a tired, worried father who had nearly lost his only child. "You could have died."

Danny looked at his father, his face softening out of its irate scowl. "Dad." He straightened, collecting himself. "Even so, I chose this. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life, however long it may be. I want to- " He cut himself off and bit his lip. "I want to serve my country. Like you, but in my own way," he finished, very obviously keeping his eyes on the kitten in his lap. The sunburn almost hid the flush that rose from his neck to his hairline. "I'm doing this, whether you like it or not."

Drake looked at his son, an inscrutable expression on his face. Then he scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. He turned his attention to Tanner, who tensed, preparing for whatever the former agent was about to throw at him. Seeing this, Drake smirked, but only briefly.

"Mr. Tanner," he started, "I apologize for my behavior over the past week and a half. Please also pass on my apology to everyone I-"

"-terrorized?" threw his son in with a smirk.

"-encountered, as I doubt they would be too happy if I found my way into their presence again," Drake finished, as though he hadn't heard his son's interjection.

Tanner blinked, surprised at this turnaround. "Perfectly understandable," he said hurriedly. "One never likes to think of loved ones in danger, no matter how noble the reason. I'll be sure to pass on your apology to everyone involved," he reassured diplomatically.

"Thank you," Drake said smoothly, as if he hadn't held Tanner in a chokehold not even a week ago. "Q especially seemed a bit...twitchy the last time I saw him."

"I suppose that's why he comes to visit me only when you're out," Danny said wryly. "You're sending him a card. You're sending everyone a card. At least. A nice bottle of something might be in order, too."

Drake acquiesced with a graceful nod. "Alright, alright. I'll back off," he said, raising his hands in the classic 'don't shoot me' gesture.

Danny Drake turned to Tanner. "There, is that alright, then, sir?" he asked amiably, "I promise he won't be any more trouble."

Tanner found himself staring at the pair for a moment - had this young man talked his own father, a former double-oh on top of that, into apologizing? Good grief. No wonder Alec Trevelyan had practically adopted the boy, and even 002 had sung his praises of the young tech in his reports back to base before his untimely death.

Damien Drake sat back in his chair looking amused, as though reading Tanner's mind.

"Yes, of course," Tanner answered, catching himself. He cleared his throat and checked his watch. "I'd better be off. I've a meeting soon. Do feel better, Frobisher," he said, and meant it. "And if you haven't already had your kitten checked out, I can recommend a good veterinarian."

Danny's face brightened at the mention of the kitten. "Oh, yes, thank you, sir. That would be brilliant."

Tanner promised to have his secretary send the details along and made his way back out of the room to his meeting.

Well, he thought, that hadn't been too bad.

. . . . .

Danny Drake was sent home on bed rest soon after Tanner's visit.

The following week, a few mysterious packages appeared on the desks of certain individuals overnight while most of the workers were gone.

Tanner's was a bottle of fine scotch and an embossed cream card with a very sincere apology written in an elegant hand, signed "DD." Trading notes with Villiers revealed that M's assistant had also gotten a similar gift.

Q's bottle of expensive whiskey was accompanied by some sort of gadget that made the engineer exclaim with delight, while M's note likely contained both an apology and a warning, judging by her expression when she opened it (and also by the way she immediately opened the bottle and poured herself a finger of the fine amber liquid whilst rubbing her temples).

Q-Branch, Security, and Medical all received large tins of homemade biscuits in their break rooms. Q-Branch's note contained an apology for the fright they had received, while Security's was a most sincere apology for knocking their men out and also included tips for how to avoid similar breakouts in the future. Medical's was a thank you note for taking such good care of his son.

The former agent had again managed to completely befuddle MI6, this time by being suspiciously nice.

Tanner, upon learning that Danny Drake was to return to Medical for a check-up a couple of weeks later, decided to drop in again to see him on this occasion. This time he had a pair of books with him. He had heard from the MI6 grapevine that the young genius had been rather...bored and may have caused the worst stock market crash in history as a consequence of this.

Evidently, bored geniuses were not good for the global economy.

Tanner caught up with the two Drakes as Drake the elder was rolling Drake the younger out of the examination room.

"Frobisher."

"Mr. Tanner." Danny looked pleased to see him. "Thank you for recommending the vet."

"Ah, of course. Is everything alright with your kitten, then?" Tanner asked politely.

Danny beamed. "Yes, sir. He's perfectly healthy. My father has been looking after him, mostly, since I can't do much for him. The kitten, that is. My father, too, for that matter. He's been staying with me." 'And driving me insane,' said his expression.

Tanner decided that the kitten was a much safer topic than a hovering double-oh. "It's a boy cat, then?"

"Oh, yes. I've named him Turing. Alan Turing."

Tanner smiled. "Apt name for a cat belonging to a computer scientist working in espionage."

"Is it too obvious, do you think?" Danny asked, tilting his head. A little line appeared between his brows, as though he was seriously contemplating if naming his cat after a famous mathematician who had cracked a notoriously difficult code during WWII was a breach in national security.

Tanner chuckled and hastened to reassure the young man. "It isn't as though you've named him Francis Walsingham or John Le Carre," he joked.

"That is true," Danny agreed. Then he paused, glanced up at his father, who was standing silently behind his wheelchair, then back at Tanner. "May I ask you something, sir?"

Tanner raised his brow. Danny could ask, but there was no guarantee that he would answer.

"Did I get 006 in trouble?" Again, Tanner was reminded of how young the boy before him really was.

006, Alec Trevelyan, who had somehow befriended the younger man, had brought him home from his disastrous trip via a rather circuitous route instead of a quick flight on an airplane, as M had ordered. It was an uncharacteristic kindness that had cost him four months in Siberia in the dead of winter on a minor mission.

"006 is never not in trouble," Tanner said dryly. "I doubt he's upset with you, Frobisher," he reassured the younger man kindly. "He seemed rather worried about you when I met him before he left. He didn't go in to see you?"

Danny frowned, as though he was trying to see if he had actually managed to forget his friend's visit. "No, I don't think so…"

"He came in while you were resting," Damien Drake said, and Tanner knew immediately that it was a lie, if only because there was no way that the younger man had been able to fall asleep so soon after the debrief; he had been extremely upset. "He saw you were asleep and left."

"Oh," Danny said, and settled back in the wheelchair, accepting his father's word at face value. "I'm sorry I missed him then. Q said he'd be away for a while."

"Yes," Tanner agreed. "It's a bit of a long one, I'm afraid." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of long stretches of time," he said, and held out the books in his hand, "I hear you're in for a long convalescence, and that you are already bored?"

Danny looked sheepish and accepted the books. "A bit, yes. Thank you, sir…" He trailed off, having gotten a look at the titles.

The top volume was A Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey, but this was only apparent after reading the English subtitle. The main title was printed in another script. A glance at the second book, a Hindi-English dictionary, clarified the situation.

"Hindi?" Danny asked, puzzled.

"I find that learning a new language is a good way to spend time when one is on forced medical leave, and a good way to learn is to read a familiar book," Tanner said wryly. "Am I right in supposing that you don't yet know the language?" The more popular European languages were already listed in Danny's file, as well as a couple of Asian ones.

A bright smile spread across Danny's sunburned face. "Yes, you're right. Thank you," he repeated, looking touched. He brushed his fingers lightly over the books' covers.

"You're welcome," Tanner said, then caught Danny's father looking at him with an approving expression. He wasn't sure if he liked that or not, but then he supposed that being on an ex-double-oh's good side wasn't a bad thing. Still dangerous, perhaps, but not a bad thing, per se.

"How did you know that I've read this book before? In English, I mean?" Danny asked, looking curious.

Tanner smirked. "It's a mystery novel about Richard III. You like Shakespeare, don't you?"

"Yes, but how did you know?" Danny asked, the little line appearing between his eyebrows again, "It's not in my file." Of course, Danny Drake had hacked and read his own MI6 file.

Tanner did not often get the chance to be mysterious, so he reveled in it now. "There are ways of finding things out about people other than looking at their files and online habits. You seem like the type of person who likes the Bard. Old-fashioned murder mysteries, too, I'll wager. Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie fan?"

He soon found himself on the end of Damien Drake's inscrutable gaze. "People underestimate you, don't they, Mr. Tanner?"

"I've got one of those faces," Tanner replied, quite certain that he had now earned Damien Drake's good opinion.

"Useful, in this line of business," Drake smiled.

"I find it is," Tanner agreed.

Danny didn't respond; he already had his nose buried in both of his new books.

. . . . .


Notes:

Sir Francis Walsingham was Queen Elizabeth I's master spy. John Le Carre wrote spy novels (Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and The Spy Who Came In From the Cold are two famous ones).

The Daughter of Time is an actual book by Josephine Tey. It's basically a novel about how Richard III might not have been as evil as Shakespeare and history portray him as being. It's kind of another one of those Shakespeare conspiracy theories, like the one where William Shakespeare didn't write the works we know as Shakespeare's.

My use of the book is kind of a reference to the fact that Ben Whishaw and Rory Kinnear (Tanner) have both been in a lot of Shakespeare, and have appeared together in a couple of plays, too, including Richard II (not III) in the 2012 The Hollow Crown TV series. It's my headcanon that Tanner and Q both had a fanboy squeeing session when the remains of Richard III were found in a carpark ('parking lot' in American) in 2012. (Also, the book has a detective with a broken leg in it, Rear Window style. And Danny has a broken leg…)

Headcanon stuff: Danny already knew English and French by the time he was two (I'll go into that in my fic "Bed, Breakfast, and Bandages," which I'll begin posting on 6/25). I'm adding German, Italian, and Spanish to those, as they seem like pretty standard languages for an Englishman to learn, and his father would definitely know them from his line of work. Russian and Arabic, too. Chinese, Korean, and Japanese seem like good choices for Danny to learn on his own. Of course, this isn't a full list of the languages that Q knows.