Disclaimer: Not mine.

AN: Well, this is supposed to be two parts, so let's see how that goes. Further, feel free to wear your slash-goggles, but I'm not going to include romance here. It's more a bit of plot in order to have the characters interact and establish a working relationship (friendship?).

That said, enjoy, and I'm open to input.

Sabotage
- I -

The first glitch revealed itself early on. Q had just passed Bond his latest equipment - another gun and locator chip - and had immediately engaged the tracking system once the agent had left. Or rather, he tried to - the system replied that there was no signal to be found.

Which was odd; and after three checks of the programs functionality and the satellite, Q could only conclude that the equipment was actually faulty.

Two weeks later Bond was in Guangzhou, his gun aimed at a wealthy Mafiosi - one who had been clever enough to escape the law, until both, British and Chinese government had agreed he needed to be done away with. Quietly. Now Bond sat in an empty office tower, with a good view of said target sitting behind a computer, took aim... And nothing happened.

Back in HQ about everybody stopped what they were doing. Q set his mug down.

"007. Report."

"The gun isn't working," was the reply.

The gun was brand-new, custom-made and had not been used after Q himself had handed it over to Bond. Q swallowed - faulty equipment would cost his head, and he was very, very lucky this was not a life or death situation. Still, bad, especially since this was a rare cooperation. M was not going to be happy.

"007, there's an armed guard four floors down, asleep at his desk. Perhaps you can borrow his equipment?" Q suggested.

"That should work well enough," said Bond, and it did.

Q was anxious enough to have wanted to pick the Walther (and Bond) up at the airport himself, but then somebody tried to hack the London stock exchange, and the resulting cyber war lasted a good twenty hours - ending about one hour prior to Bond's arrival at MI6 headquarters.

"Maybe old-school would be more pragmatic than fragile high-tech weaponry?" said Bond as he set the Walther down on Q's desk.

"Says the man who wanted an exploding pen," retorted Q, but there was no energy behind his words. He had been at work for thirty hours by now, and while this was not the first time, it was starting to show.

"Though for now, you may want to go down and pick up something with Mr. Webber from storage," said Q, "I'll check what went wrong with this one."

Bond nodded, and raised an eyebrow when Q shuffled out of his office behind him. "Going home?" he asked.

Q shook his head. "Tea," he said, lifting his cup, while locking the door behind him.

"You lock your office for that?" asked Bond. Even M did not lock his office - especially if he wasn't away long.

Q shrugged. "Some things went missing."

Upon seeing Bond's concerned expression, he added: "Nothing important. Just pen, notes, mugs... small stuff."

There had been reports and papers disappearing as well, but nothing that had held sensitive information. Just annoying paperwork he'd had to do again. At least signing records didn't take very long...

Bond gave him a side long glance, and Q could see him think the one thing Q himself had been wondering: there was a very valid, if unlikely, possibility that due to a lack of sleep he had just misplaced said items himself. Which made him look even more incompetent than the defect Walther already had.

However right now he was far too tired to defend himself.

"I will contact you later, 007," said Q and turned to make his way to the staff kitchen.

Being back in the armory brought up a number of memories. Bond had been down here countless times - this place had survived the bombs, the remodeling and the move of Q branch to another part of the complex. Even the face, George Webber, was familiar.

"007," said Webber, who had been the old Q's right hand, "Good to see you back! You rarely get to see anybody down here nowadays, and if, all they're looking for is papers and plans. Those kids don't build anything anymore... But enough ramblings, what can I do for you?"

Bond felt his lips form a smile, "Actually I'm looking for a temporary replacement gun. But you wouldn't happen to store any exploding pens, would you?"

Webber laughed. He was tall - taller than Bond, in his early fifties, though he looked a lot of younger due to working out a lot. They met sometimes in the gym, and while Webber did spend more time commemorating the good old times than working out, he was still rather pleasant company.

"Sure, just follow me," he said.

An hour later Q sat in his office, head hurried in his hands and a migraine pounding behind his temples. Before him rested the dismantled Walther - and he had tested it five times already, but there was no other conclusion.

Somebody had fiddled with it. Somebody had made certain the Walther wouldn't work - and that somebody had to be from within the MI6.

Bond and Webber were just chatting over an old wristwatch - that could be used to remote control small explosives, shoot poisoned needles or emit sleeping gas - when the contact in Bond's ear came to life.

"007," Q did sound exhausted, even over the headset, "As you're still in the building, would you mind stopping by my office?"

"Roger," Bond replied, and the headset went off again.

"Q wants to see me," he said to Webber.

Webber raised an eyebrow. "Bossy, isn't he? Not even here for a year and the department has been turned on its head. I don't know what M was thinking, giving a kid power like that..."

Bond felt like sympathizing - but then again, when he was out in the field Q's skills had more than once saved his life.

"Bond," said Q, "Sit down."

The agent raised an eyebrow, but did not protest. Q closed the door, locked it, and then more or less collapsed down into the other chair himself. His hair looked worse than it had an hour ago.

Bond said nothing, and waited patiently, silently amused at how distraught Q looked.

"Bond, I examined your Walther, and it has been sabotaged. Somebody changed the fingerprint recognition, wiping all data..." Q frowned, "Did anybody but you touch it?"

Bond shook his head. "No."

He had been asleep on the plane, but he was confident enough that he would have woken up if somebody had tried removing his gun from his person.

Q pressed his lips together, unhappy. "I thought so. Unless you recall anything else, we have to assume somebody here was behind this. I don't know if they wanted for you to get in trouble, or what their aim was, but..."

"How many people could wipe the memory?" asked Bond, interrupting Q.

"Everybody with level 3 security clearance," said Q, "That would be almost a thousand people in the MI6."

"And the know-how?"

"It's not that hard," said Q, "Wiping the memory. Reprogramming is more difficult, but deleting the memory is comparably easy. And the instructions are online – mostly for those overseas, but also they're also accessible here if you have the clearance required."

Bond felt uneasy about it, but remained silent.

Q carried on. "Which means there are far too many possible suspects; and we don't even know what the aim was. Maybe an inside job by somebody who wants you dead. Maybe somebody who wanted to make us look incompetent before the Chinese. I have no idea... But I believe you want to be careful, and I would recommend testing your weapons here before leaving in the future."

"Understood," said Bond, "Have you already informed M?"

Q sighed. "I'll do that now."

M was visibly unhappy about the news.

"I guess then we'll have to upgrade our security measures. Again," he sighed, "And maybe not share sensitive information concerning our agents' equipment online?"

"We could further restrict access," said Q, "However the online information is rather crucial at the oversea checkpoints – they won't be able to repair anything there, else wise."

"What would you suggest, then?"

Truth to be said, Mallory, like most, had been apprehensive about their new quartermaster. Though as far as he could tell, Q did good work, so skipping ahead on the career path had done no harm.

"Make the information available only to technical staff with a level 2 clearance, and the agents," suggested Q.

M nodded. "I will see to it, then," he said, "And go get some sleep."

Moneypenny was back at her desk when Q left M's office. She glanced up, and then raised both eyebrows. "And when was the last time you saw your bed?"

"Good day to you too," said Q, "It has been a while, I think."

"Seeing as the tie is the same as the one you wore yesterday, I'm inclined to believe you," said Eve, "For all our sakes, as well as England's, I hope you're going home?"

"I might," replied Q. He had reported the incident, seen to it that 007 got another gun - and there was no cyber-attack happening right now, thus he might just sneak out.

"Great," said Moneypenny, "Take this with you - it's food. For eating, you know. The human body tends to require it, the same way it requires sleep, just in case you forgot."

Q managed a small smile, and received one in return. "What would I do without you?"

"England would fall," said Eve, "But that's old news."

Bond did not actually go home after the meeting with Q. Instead he had gone to gym, and spent a good while training – it was becoming a satisfying experience, now that he was almost completely back in shape. And while he may have gotten older, his reflexes and stamina had only improved.

Webber joined him for half an hour, muttering about security leaks. Bond didn't reveal what he knew, but he agreed with Webber's distrust of computers connected to the internet.

When Bond eventually was on his way back to his own flat, walking past Q branch, an explosion went off.

He's almost thrown off his feet, and had to catch himself against the wall. Then he'd turned back, ran toward the next door, even though the floor was still trembling.

Bond wasn't even out of breath when he burst into the room – but his pulse was pounding.

Sabotage, Q had said.

There's smoke, but not too much, and Bond was almost relieved to see most of the department's large screens still intact. Actually, he could make out the site of the detonation against the right wall, where a desk and computer equipment have been eradicated, leaving a dark, smoking spot in space.

People were yelling, but there's no panic. Bond heard Q order somebody to get medical here, fast, and for somebody else to check their mainframe, heighten security parameters and make certain no hacker gets through – and no, if they miss out on a government email that won't matter as long as their security is not compromised.

Bond let his gun – a normal Walther – slip back under his suit, and walked further in, carful not to step on any of the debris. There was nothing he could help with – the damaged equipment was handled by experts, and the injured staff was handled by not-quite-experts, but those experts were bound to arrive soon.

Two appeared very bad off, with burns covering most their exposed skin, but somebody had already brought water, and Bond knew medical staff would be there in less than a minute.

He looked for Q, and caught sight of him seated in a charred office chair, calmly giving instructions while somebody pressed a towel in his hand.

When medical staff arrived, and all firewalls had been made operational, Bond approached Q.

The young quartermaster looked a mess – sleep-deprived, skinny and with a nice, bloody gash on the side of his head – but his expression was calm.

"What was it?" Bond asked.

Q glanced at him. "Apparently a piece of equipment somebody left for an analysis. I did not really get a look at it before it exploded."

"A bomb?" Bond raised an eyebrow. Q branch has very specific standards on how suspected explosive or dangerous materials are to be delivered, lest the entire branch is accidentally infected by some biological weapon.

"So it would seem," replied Q flatly.

Bond said nothing, which is fine since one of the medics has noticed Q's injury. So Bond turned and surveyed the room. The explosive did not do much damage. No vital equipment had been damaged, and nobody died. Still…

Whoever is behind this had to be one of their own.

tbc