Never actually written 00Q fanfiction before, plus this is my second fanfiction. (whoop)
Feel free to leave comments and such; this is a work in progress, and the first chapter is only small because I want to see if people are actually willing to read this, otherwise I shall scrap it.
Other chapters should be around 2,000-4,000 words.
Quartermasters were ordinarily human. Q, however, was the exception—and exceptional indeed. His intelligence could easily be considered as one of the greatest, and although Bond had always had an initial dislike for the hunks of metal, he could not deny that Q knows his stuff. In the first hour upon meeting him the Quartermaster churned out two new systems, and managed to break a string of complex algorithms allowing MI6 access into the world's most secure facility. An impressive first impression, indeed, but still scathed by the pool of distaste that had settled in Bond's gut.
The Quartermaster was still viciously typing away at the system even after all that time. Bond looked down at his watch: 2:46 pm. It'd been two hours since his first meeting with the Quartermaster, and spare for the few snarky quips they'd exchanged and the traditional formalities, he still knew absolutely nothing about this…thing. He seemed real enough—so much so, that when the lanky man with pale, almost papery skin stepped through the doors he believed him to be entirely human. When Mallory corrected him by uploading Q's data to the computer (traits, personality, skills) the warm feeling that had initially erupted in his stomach ceased to be and smiles were feigned, hands shaken and then they were both sent off to work alongside one another until Bond either died (in which case Q would self-destruct) or Q shut down.
"You're an android."
Q didn't look up from his work, because the algorithm he was working on was a particularly complicated one. The muscles (if they even were muscles; Bond didn't know, and he wasn't particularly for finding out) tightened as Q froze, his fingers hovering listlessly over the keyboard. From James' point of view he could see the machine frown, as if it was actually capable of feeling, and eyebrows darted upwards in disbelief.
"Cleverly observed—if not a little basic, 007, considering your track record. Tell me, what else do you know about me?" He still stood facing away, eyes steadily trained on the screen as it flashed with new strings of code. "And please refrain from making any assumptions."
"That's it." Bond feebly scratched the back of his neck; his eyes flitted about, tearing away from Q's startlingly straight back and his lips quirked into a frown. "M didn't elaborate. I only know the basics—and now I'm not entirely sure if I do know the basics."
"I'm your Quartermaster, 007," he said, breathing like he actually lived.
"And what exactly does that entail? As far as I'm aware, it bears no particular resemblance. You make me clever little gadgets, I destroy them."
Q shut his eyes, inhaling a sharp breath.
"Not exactly, 007. I'm your Quartermaster, which means I am yours and yours alone. I work for no-one else—unless you command it—and I am programmed to protect you and guide you at all costs. They also programmed me with the necessary chips for a companion unit."
Bond's eyes widened, his mouth opening and then closing again, like a fish.
"And why would they do that?" His voice sounded hoarse; like velvet, stretched over steel.
"An agent's life is a lonely one," he replied, eyes solely focused on James' face. "And as I said; I'm programmed to cater for your every whim. I am your Quartermaster, after all."
Could man and machine really work together? In that moment results seemed inconclusive, and Q turned back to his work and continued working as if nothing had happened. Bond, newly perplexed by his new Quartermaster, turned on his heels and strode away.
(Something started in the pit of his belly,
and on the back of Q's neck,
his owner's name burned).