Arthur groaned as he opened his eyes. How much did he drink last night? It couldn't have been that much…He reached up to rub his sore temple—

Only to find that he was bound.

Adrenalin and panic cleared his mind as he tested the strength of his bindings. He was tied to a chair with thick lengths of rope, and he didn't recognize the room he was in. Based on the thick stench of salt water and low-tide alone, he would guess that he was by a dock somewhere.

And he wasn't alone.

"You're awake. Wonderful, I want you to be sober for this."

The new voice was coming from a shadowy corner. As the owner of said voice stepped forward into the light, Arthur could make out the profile of a tall man. That's when it came back to him.

"You and I are going to have a talk about the proper way to treat women."

This was the man who kidnapped him from his own car!

"Who the hell are you?" Arthur winced as the sound of his own voice sent a shock through his temple. He was still hung over.

The man stepped towards him, until they were toe to toe. "I think it's safe to say that I'm a concerned party that isn't pleased about how you've treated his little girl."

Girl? What the hell? Arthur wracked his mind for what the mad man was referring to. Then he remembered his date, "Is this about Monica?"

A fist drove itself into his jaw with a sickening thud, sending a jolt of pain throughout Arthur's head. He could already taste the blood welling in his mouth.

The man put his lips to Arthur's ear, "Her name is Monique." He hissed, "And I will make sure you remember that name for the rest of your life."

Q did not like consoling his daughter; he hated seeing his normally strong willed and independent baby reduced to tears and curled up in the fetal position on her bed. He had stayed up all night with her, holding her against his chest and murmuring soft words in her ear.

Now, in the early morning hours, Monique had cried herself out, but had refused to let go of Q while she slept. It was a habit that she had as an infant, and while Q missed the days when his little girl was still a child, his heart broke knowing what had caused her to revert back to her childhood days.

He ran a hand through her hair, feeling the fine blonde tresses between his fingers. Try as he might, he couldn't help but feel…well, helpless. With all his resources as the Quartermaster of MI6, and James's training as a 00 agent, they hadn't been able to protect their little angel. He wanted to vow that it would never happen again, but he was still sick to his stomach with agony for his little girl and rage towards the one responsible.

A small chime sounded from Q's cell phone. Nothing too loud or obnoxious (such as the 'Ode to Joy' the children had set to his phone for when they called), it was a clear sign it was James.

It wasn't an incoming call, just a text message. Not even a text message, just a photo attachment. Though he had a pretty good idea what might be in the picture, he opened it none the less.

There was a young man in the picture, and he was tied to a chair. His face, while no doubt handsome in a previous life, was already covered in dark bruises. One of his eyes was already swollen shut, and his mouth was spewing blood.

James hadn't sent a message with the photo, but he didn't need to. He knew exactly who that was and what was happening.

Q noted that several of the boy's fingers were in odd angles and oddly discolored. Good, Q thought, the bastard deserves it for laying a hand on Monique the way he did.

It's a start. Q sent the message to James, feeling more at ease now that he knew justice was being carried out.

"Is that Papa?"

Q looked down at Monique, who was rubbing her eyes sleepily, "Yeah, baby girl. It's Papa."

She looked at the phone, "He went after Arthur, didn't he?"

So that was the bastard's name. No matter, "Yes." Q didn't bother lying to Monique. She had been training with both her fathers long enough to spot a lie, "He's taking care of him right now."

Monique took the phone from Q's hand, looking at the picture, "Papa's holding back. He didn't even break any bones in the face."

Q had to resist the urge to smirk. Monique was definitely James's daughter, "Did you want him to break his face?"

There was a moment's pause, and Q knew that his daughter was seriously considering the offer, "No," She said finally, "I don't want Papa to kill him or anything, I'd hate for either of you to get in trouble at work for abusing your power." She shook her head, cuddling into Q's side, "Though if Papa wants to deliver a swift kick to Arthur's balls for me, I wouldn't object."

A snort escaped Q before he could stop himself, "Of course, Mo." He took the phone from her, sending a quick message to James.

It was a few minutes later that there was a response from James.

This one was a video attachment.

James had set the phone to record Arthur, whose face was drawn in horror as James lifted a foot, only to turn into pure agony as the 00 agent delivered a bone-breaking stomp to the young man's family jewels. The boy's screams were tinny and pathetic through the speakers of the phone.

"Play it again." Monique nodded, watching the screen.

They had just finished playing the video for the third time when Q heard footsteps down the hallway. Not wanting his younger children to see their father being violent, he closed the message, just in time for Andrew to open the bedroom door.

"Daddy…" The young boy rubbed his eyes, his blond hair mussed from sleep, "Why are you in Momo's room?"

"Momo and Daddy had a sleepover." Q smiled, waving his youngest son over to the bed, "Did you sleep good, Andy?"

Andrew nodded, crawling up onto the bed and squeezing between Q and Monique, "Can you have a sleepover in my room next?"

Q chuckled, "Of course, Andy." He kissed the top of his head, "I take it your brother's are still asleep?"

"Greg and John are still snoring." Andrew wrinkled his nose, "Where's Papa?"

Monique smiled softly, "He's getting breakfast. I wanted some Cinnamon Roll French Toast from that café we went to last month."

Andrew's eyes lit up, "Oo, tell Papa I want some too!"

Q smiled softly, making sure to send a text to James so he would know to stop and get breakfast before he returned home.

While Andrew and Monique were talking about their favorite breakfast foods, Q received another text.

All done, on my way to get breakfast.

Q didn't bother asking what happened to Arthur. He wasn't important anymore.