I was going to focus on one story at a time, but a friend of mine gave me this idea and it seemed so interesting I just couldn't pass it up. I hope you find it as interesting as I do!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own James Bond or any other characters. I am just using them for a bit. :)

Comments/Reviews welcome!


Sometimes it was nearly impossible to find things in this building. Before buying anything new, Q is told that he needs to find anything he can salvage from the basement of the new MI6 building. Budget cutbacks, is that he's told.

To evaluate just how bad things are, Q goes down there to see first, without any of his minions, letting them deal with everything in Q-branch under the watchful eye of R. "Oh, bloody hell." He says as he sees the masses of ancient and outdated equipment. "It's going to take months to root this all out." he mutters to himself, but he steps forward over a few boxes, shifting them around with a cough as it stirs up some dust. A small sigh is given as he looks around.

In the corner lays something rather interesting though, and he steps over to look at the strange machine. Leaning over it, he shifts it out into the open a little more with a small grunt of effort, so he can have a better look at it. "Hello my pretty.. what exactly are you?" He asks as he looks it over, moving some wires aside and such, wiping away some dust along the front. Either he was a little more rough than he intended or the device is trigger happy, because he accidentally flips a switch, causing the device to whir to life, lighting up with a strange blue aura.

"Shit." Q mutters as he taps the switch on the front a little, but it doesn't seem to want to turn off. The front has a display of old digital numbers, but it flickers back and forth and doesn't stay on one. "Double shit." The young man mutters when it doesn't turn off, and he jabs the button for a few more moments. It's winding up further though, making the young man nervous.

Not exactly wanting to start pulling wires because that could cause all kind of other problems, Q starts looking it over a little more frantically. He doesn't make it in time however, the whine reaching top pitch before it pauses, clicks and then seems to explode, throwing the young man back against the cement wall. For a few moments, everything goes dark, and when Q comes to his senses he's a little concerned he might have passed out.

Blinking open his eyes, Q looks around the now darkened room. The darkened and empty room. While it appears to be the same room, without anything in it, Q notices that it looks rather like an old war bunker. And one that has been used recently if the discarded papers and bottles are any indication.

With a feeling of dread, Q stands on shaky legs and walks over to one of the newspapers to pick it up slowly. Given its condition, he assumes it's more than a few days old, but not nearly as old as it should be, since the date he reads on it is 1916. Something that nearly makes him choke.

Whether it's from the impact or from the news that there is a good chance he might have just been tossed like a rag doll back in time, Q starts to feel a little nauseous. As everything settles in, he realizes that the noise he's been hearing all this time wasn't just ringing in his ears, it's air raid sirens.

Just as he tries to stumble toward the door leading to – hopefully- the stairs people start coming down, seeming panicked and bringing lanterns. Some of them are in fancy dress, probably for a night out on the town, and others are in their pajamas, covered in dust like they barely escaped a building collapse.

Unable to focus on much of anything beyond that, Q stumbles over to the corner and leans over, dry-heaving on his hands and knees for a few moments as everything gets a little overwhelming.

"Are you alright?" A deep voice comes from behind Q, a hand lightly being placed between his shoulder blades.

Nodding a little, Q coughs a few more times before he starts to sit up and he looks over at the man with the gentle voice. Even in the low light, he can see how handsome the man is, with piercing blue eyes, short blond hair and such a figure.. Blinking a few times behind his glasses, the young man drags his eyes back to the face of the man in front of him. "I'm alright.. I just got hit on the head by a bit of debris, I think.. It's all a bit of a haze, my building.." He formulates his story quickly, but even being foggy from a slight concussion, he is a genius, and he puts his brain to good use.

A nod is given, and the man in front of Q sits back a little, taking a swig from a flask before he holds it out. "Looks like you need this more than I do. Name's Bond. James Bond." he says with a slight nod of his head.

Cursing his slightly shaking hand, Q takes the flask and he nods a little, lifting it in a silent Cheers. "Thanks." He says before he takes a swig, wincing a little at the burn. It doesn't take much for him to evaluate the man before him. Afterall, for over a year he's been working with the same sort of men. Fitted suit, gun in a holster underneath, always glancing at people and exits. Appearing relaxed while being ready to spring into action if the situation calls for it. If Q was a betting man, he would put a substantial sum on the man in front of him being a spy.

After returning the flask to its owner, Q holds his hand out. "Quentin Brown. My friends call me Q." He says with a small shrug, since if you take the 'Que', it would rather sound like 'Q', which is why that was always his cover ID at MI6. Not that anyone in this time would know that.

"Pleasure to meet you, Quentin. Sorry to hear about your flat." James says with a small nod of his head, taking the hand and shaking it firmly, letting it linger for a moment before withdrawing his hand. After taking another swig from the flask, he closes it up and slips it into his jacket while his eyes linger a little too long on Q in a way that is perhaps a little more than friendly.

Clearing his throat a little, Q tries not to get distracted but he nods. "Thank you.. I don't know what I'll do now. Work is so hard to come by, and everything I had was in there. My money, my wallet, my ID..." he trails off and shakes his head. "I came outside as soon as I heard the air raid sirens go off, I suppose I panicked a bit. The next thing I know.." He trails off, rubbing the back of his head a little.

Seeming sympathetic, Bond nods a little as he looks at the younger man. "What is it you do?" he asks as he watches him, leaning his back against the wall and surveying the room before his attention returns to the man in front of him. The evaluation would be correct of course, he is a spy. And as a spy he's learned that you need to be very open to all manner of things. It leaves things a little.. fluid in his personal life. Even now, he has to admit that this near stranger is more alluring than he has any right to be. And he most certainly should not be thinking such things in this situation, with everything the man must have lost.

"Oh, I don't really have a profession. I'm good with mechanical things, numbers.. too clever for my own good sometimes, or so I've been tone." Q admits sheepishly as he looks away from Bond before he shifts slightly to get more comfortable where he's seated. Thank goodness he has a leaning toward classic fashions. It might be a bit odd, but his clothing is only slightly on the eccentric side of fashion.

"Hm. You know the government is always looking for code breakers. Or so I hear. Could see if they might be needing any." Bond says casually as he glances over at the younger man, glancing him over for a moment before he locks eyes with him.

Q feels himself blush slightly under the intense gaze, glad that the lights are so dim so maybe it isn't as visible, but he also can't pull his eyes away. "Thank you, I hadn't considered that. I'll have to look when we get out of here. Is there someplace you might recommend that takes in those whose homes have been destroyed?" he asks as he looks at him.

Finally releasing Q from his gaze, Bond tears his away and glances around the room. "I know of a few. There's one not too far from my flat, I can show you after we get out of here." He reassures, glancing at Q again with a small smile. "Do you need to find any family? Wife, children, maybe a girl?" he asks as he looks at the younger man, feeling out the situation carefully.

A small laugh comes from Q, and he shakes his head a little. "No. Nothing like that. I'm not the marrying sort." He says quietly as he turns his head to look at the others in the room, listening to the sniffles of women and the snippets of conversation he can hear.

"I see. I understand, I'm not the sort either." Bond says with a small smile, which is true for a few reasons, but not, he suspects, the same reasons that Q has. He's gotten good at reading people in his years of work, and he's needed to be, in order to get what he needs to do his job.

"So what do you do for work, Mr. Bond?" Q asks curiously as he looks over at the man, interested to see what he might give for a job.

"Traveling sales. Not a lot of need for that sort of thing right now, so I don't get to travel as much as I would like, not anymore. I have a few deals working though." James says vaguely with a little smirk as he glances over at Q, shifting as he tries to get comfortable, and the first shake of the ground and explosion is heard outside.

Wincing slightly and ducking his head when he hears the explosion, Q takes a trembling breath. If he dies here, he'll be very cross, he decides. "You must be quite the people person, then. I've always had trouble relating to other people." he says honestly, looking down at his hands as he picks at his fingernails a little. "Always been too clever for my own good." He says with a small laugh, not sure why he finds it so easy to talk to this random spy.

Glancing around for a moment, Bond then looks back at Q, and since no one is particularly paying attention to them, he reaches out and puts his hand on the other man's frail-seeming wrist, giving it a small squeeze. "There's no shame in that. Not everyone is the same." he says, letting his hand linger, testing the reaction before drawing it back.

A slight blush again creeps over Q's cheeks and he nods a little. "Oh, I know." He reassures, not pulling back from the touch, just smiling slightly as he looks into the face of the man. Were he in his own time, he would feel no shame in being more blatant in his interest. But these are different, more dangerous times, which makes him a bit sad and a little more scared than he normally might be in this position. It's not as if he's not used to dealing with violence, but he is far away from his home in a time he doesn't fully understand, even if he got good marks for history in school.

Bond gives a firm nod, his thumb brushing against the back of Q's hand for a moment before he withdraws his hand, and lays one forearm over a bent knee casually. "Sounds like we might be stuck here for a while, possibly all night." he says as he glances toward the ceiling and then looks at a few soldiers who are standing by the door, keeping people in and trying to keep people calm.

"Wish I had brought something to eat, then." Q muses with a little sigh, before he looks at Bond. "I sometimes get distracted, and miss meals." he admits, a little embarrassed as he shrugs, looking at the other man again.

"You're a bit hopeless, aren't you?" Bond asks as he looks at the younger man, a little amused as he looks around the room. "Not much to do about it now. Even if anyone here had food, they're not likely to share. The shelter should be able to give you some food." He reassures as he considers everything, trying to figure out if he should send Q to his superiors, or send him through more normal routes, once they're out of here.

Q blushes a little, and he clears his throat. "Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Bond." He says in a slight annoyance, shaking his head at how Bond evaluates him. "I'm not hopeless, I can just be a little single-minded sometimes when it comes to work. Apparently I have the ability to ignore everything else when truly focused, including hunger. Though I really would prefer a cuppa, right about now." He muses as he pulls his knees up closer to his chest and folds his arms on top of it as he shivers lightly. Between being underground, it being night, and there being a dampness, it's given him a bit of a chill.

Bond glances at him and he nods. "I've known people like that. Mostly very intelligent people." he says with a slight smirk. "Focus and intelligence seems to go hand in hand sometimes." He says thoughtfully, the ground shaking as another bomb goes off. "You should get some rest. I'll wake you if it stops." He says as he looks up at the ceiling.

Not being able to deny how exhausted he is from the emotional stress of his apparent time travel, or mental crack, whichever this is, and the fact that he had already been up for most of the day when this happened, Q scoots over closer to the wall, leaning back on it and closing his eyes. He's grateful that he is one of those people who can sleep in pretty much any situation. He may wake up rather sore in the morning from positioning, but at least he won't be tired.