Summary: A busy Father's Day at MI6, featuring Tanner, M, and Q. Q calls his father to thank him for being a great dad, who takes a moment to reminisce. Bright Star 'verse. Takes place after "The Star to Every Wandering Barque."


Father's Day

19 June, 2016

Bill Tanner sighed with exhaustion as he took another sip of coffee.

It was Father's Day, and all he really wanted was to be at home with the wife and kids. He deserved a day off, didn't he? He worked damned hard at his job, all year round. This year, however, things had not worked out in his favor and he had been at the office since Friday.

International crises were much more important in the long run than holidays like Father's Day, though he hated apologizing to his kids for not being home for important milestones like their birthdays and Christmas due to work.

Still, he reflected, at least he'd been lucky enough this year to avoid having to work on Mother's Day. That, he knew from experience, was something to be avoided, if at all possible.

At least M was in the same boat. Mallory was a father, too, and it was plain that he would have preferred to spend Father's Day with his adult children rather than with the handful of tired and disgruntled MI6 employees handling the newest crisis.

Moneypenny, lucky girl, was on holiday in Jamaica with her father.

Bill sighed again and rubbed his tired eyes.

They were waiting for the enemy to fall into the trap that they had just set up for them. According to Q, it had a 94.3 percent chance of success, which was heartening to hear. Q was rarely wrong, unless there was data somewhere that hadn't been included in his calculations due to some unavoidable oversight or other.

Bill hoped that that wasn't the case in this instance.

He glanced at his watch. There were still a few hours left of the day to maybe salvage the holiday and make his wife happy. When the wife was happy, everyone was happy.

Hopefully, their target would comply with their wishes and spring the trap sometime in the next couple of hours.

Q leaned back in his chair and stretched. He had been sitting hunched over his keyboard for a good part of the last three days.

Meeting Bill's eye, the younger man grinned over the crackling sounds of his back. "Happy Father's Day, Bill," he said with a touch of irony.

Bill chuckled. "Thanks," he said, toasting him with his coffee mug.

"Happy Father's Day to you, too, sir," Q said to M, who smiled.

"Thank you, Q," he said, and added, "Have you called your father? Did you have plans today?"

Q sighed and shrugged. "I sent him a message this morning. He understands. Better than most, I daresay."

Q's brush with death a few months ago had made it clear to his colleagues that the relationship he shared with his father was a close one, and it was obvious that all he wanted was to be at home with his dad, too.

"Go on and call him," M said magnanimously. "The world won't fall to pieces without you for five minutes."

Q paused, torn between duty and family. "If you're sure, sir?" he asked.

"I'm not going to tell you twice, Quartermaster." M's stern tone clashed horribly with his fond expression.

"Thank you, sir."

Bill watched the young man - he'd just turned twenty-six - scurry off in the direction of his office with his phone already in hand.

"You can call your kids, too, Tanner," M said gruffly. "No use having all of us sitting on our asses waiting for this damned bastard to make his move."

"Sir," Bill said, and took his chance. He'd make it quick, so M would be able to get his call in, too.

. . . . .

"Dad?" Q said as he closed his office door behind him for privacy.

He could hear his father smiling as he said, "Finished saving the world, Dan?"

Q chuckled. "It's only half-saved. We're taking a quick break, waiting for new developments. I only called to tell you Happy Father's Day, Dad. I'm sorry I won't be able to make it home today. Maybe sometime this week? Can we take a rain check?"

"Whenever you have the time is fine by me, Danny," Q's father said. "It's only a day like any other."

Q sighed, "It's Father's Day. And you're my father. A great one, at that. So thank you, Dad. And thank you for giving everything up for me. I really appreciate all you've done for my sake. I don't tell you that nearly enough."

Damien Drake, formerly known as 007, had given up an exciting career in espionage for the sake of raising his son twenty-six years ago.

"I wouldn't be a dad if I didn't have a son, would I?" Damien countered. "And what a wonderful son you are. I've never regretted quitting Six for a moment."

Q laughed. "Thanks, Dad. I love you. I- I have to go." He frowned at the alert that had popped up on his phone. It was time to go back to work.

"I love you, too, son. We'll talk again soon."

. . . . .

Damien listened to the call end and lowered his phone, sighing. His boy worked much too hard, but the job made him happy and gave him the challenge he needed. Damien, as a former workaholic himself, certainly understood that.

He soon wandered aimlessly into his office for lack of something to do, really. He had planned on spending the day with his son, but he supposed that saving the world came first.

A book on his bookshelf caught his eye, and he found himself sliding it out from among its brethren with a nostalgic smile.

It was a hardback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. He opened it and read the inscription on the inside of the front cover. It was carefully written in a neat but childish hand:

'To: Daddy

Happy Father's Day. Thank you for being my daddy.

Love, Danny

20 June, 1993'

The rest of the book, where the story was supposed to be, had been cut out, leaving a square hole filled with some sort of hodgepodge machinery.

It was a tape recorder disguised as a book. It wasn't much to look at and the sound quality was somewhat lacking, as clumsily put together as it was, but it had priceless emotional significance to him.

It was the first Father's Day gift that Danny had ever given him, made completely with his own hands without any help from his godfather (aside from acquiring the materials to make it). It didn't work quite right - it never had - but Damien had never allowed his son to fix it. It was wonderful as it was without any improvements.

Smiling softly, Damien punched in a stiff button to rewind the cassette tape and pressed another to stop and play it.

A childish voice drifted out of the machine.

"Hello Daddy," a three-year-old Danny said bashfully, "Thank you for being the best daddy in the world. I picked this book because Atticus Finch is a good daddy, like you, except you're better because you're real and you're mine. I love you very much. When I grow up, I want to be a hero like you. I know it's hard work raising a kid like me, but I think you're doing a good job. I might be a little bit biased, though," Danny whispered and giggled. "Anyway, I love you a lot and I hope you have a really nice Father's Day. I love you forever. Love, Danny."

Damien stopped the tape and rewound it again. His finger lingered on the 'play' button. He sighed, the soft smile on his lips deepening as he played the childish message again.

"I love you forever, too, son." He held the machine carefully in his hands and smiled. "I am so proud of you."

. . . . .


Note:

Okay, here's the thing. I've been posting these here and on Archive Of Our Own, but the fandom is mostly over there. Is anyone over here reading this? If not, I'll probably just start posting Bond stories only on AO3 because that makes more sense.