Q feels the same. Feels the world fade around them when Robert returns his embrace and he presses another little kiss to the other man's head because he needs something more to reassure him, something other than just his arms and his presence.
"No," Q whispers softly into his hair. "No, you weren't a failure." He's very much convinced on that because although he has flaws and faults and odd habits that are hard to break and obsessions and too many ideas going around and around in his head he doesn't feel bad or wrong or as though he were born with some little cloud over him. So he can't believe that Robert was a failure. There aren't enough faults in him, not enough years between his death and Q's birth for failure to be ironed out. He doesn't believe it.
It's strange to think, though, that Robert made him. Or shaped him. Is part of him. And Q loves him, he really does, without any thought or second guessing.
"It's going to be okay," he continues, running his fingers through Robert's hair to cradle him to his neck, feeling him faulted slightly but wanting to encourage him on. "Everything will be okay."