AN: Thank you to everyone for the great reviews. They really inspire me and convince me to keep writing each day, especially since I never planned this to become this long. I hope you like the next chapter, enjoy.

When he was visiting, Bond would tell Q stories about past missions. He did this to first of all, pass the time, but also because he hoped it might spark something that would bring back Q's memories. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if by bringing back Q's memories he would also bring back his other personality in the process.

It was a constant fear of Bond's and something that he couldn't be sure of would never happen. At times, he thought he might see a bit of recognition in Q's eyes but before he could be sure the look would be gone again.

Q, besides listening to Bond's stories, was also going through physical therapy. It seemed that his mind, being able to create code and hack systems, was still intact and worked just fine but it was motor skills were severely damaged.

He couldn't walk at all, just barely able to swing his legs back and forth. He was getting to the point that he could push himself up but it was difficult and it wasn't uncommon for Bond to help him whenever he was there. Nevertheless, Q was as stubborn as ever, never letting Bond help him unless it was absolutely necessary.

One day, as Bond came in, he saw Q working on what looked like blueprints for some new design.

"I see you've gone back to inventing. Made me that exploding pen yet?" At seeing Q's confused face, Bond winced as he added, "Sorry, you wouldn't get at the moment."

"Oh, of course . . . but yes I have gotten back to inventing though whether I build this or not depends."

Bond walked over, looking down at the papers. He cocked his head from side to side, trying to figure out what it was but upon nothing coming up, he finally asked.

"They would assist me in walking," Q replied. "Almost like braces you could say but they would have to attach to the central nervous system."

"Q there's—"

"Don't patronize me 007; I know perfectly well that there is a chance that I will be able to walk fully on my own again. However, I've looked at the statistics and overall it is highly unlikely. I would say that I'm not a child and I can take care of myself but from what you've told me, you've already figured that out."

"Yes I have and I'm sorry Q, maybe I just figured you wouldn't cope with something like this so easily."

Q sighed, shaking his head as he did. "007, I am not coping with this as easily as it seems. There is a difference between masking your reactions and how you actually feel."

"I suppose there is," muttered Bond. Then, turning a bit more cheerful, he said, "I got you something today." He got a bag that he set down a little earlier and now handed it to Q.

The former quartermaster looked inside and carefully pulled out what it was. Upon seeing what had been in the bag, Q couldn't help but laugh as a small smile came to his face. "How did you know what I wanted?"

"Lucky guess," joked Bond.

Q continued to smile as he looked at the scrabble mug. Looking back up at the agent, he said, "Thank you Bond."

It was the first time Q had called him by his last name since losing his memory. It made Bond smile, just like the first time Q had begun to stop calling him 007.

Q sighed as he lay against his pillow. It was nearing nine o'clock and he was exhausted from the therapy he had just gone through only a few minutes ago. Being one for computers, he didn't get angry or really even discouraged over how slow it was going but it was annoying nonetheless. He remembered as a boy he would stay up for whole weeks just so that he could finish a project.

Now however, it wasn't even close to nine thirty and he was already getting sleepy. He would've preferred to read or maybe work on his designs but finally, Q's eyes were shutting and he was soon fast asleep.

In his dream, nothing was clear, like he didn't have his glasses on. There was blood coming from somewhere. He knew not because he could see it but because he could smell it, strong and powerful it filled his noise to the point where he probably couldn't have smelled a skunk if it was right in front of him.

Q moved forward in the dream, trying to figure out where he was when a figure appeared before him on the floor. At first he couldn't make out who it was but when he did, he had to step back from shock.

"Bond," he said softly, not believing his eyes.

He looked dead but when he began to move, Q quickly crouched down beside him. He tried to help, stop the bleeding, but then a shot rang out, killing Bond where he lay. Q's head whipped around in a panic, looking for the shooter. His vision seemed to clear as he saw the man who had shot Bond.

It was him! It was Q!

The former quartermaster backed away quickly, trying to get away only to find a wall blocking his way. The mirror image of himself walked up to him, gun thrust into Q's face. He seemed to be yelling something but Q couldn't hear it for whatever reason, making the other him seem even more stark raving mad.

"Please I-I don't know what you want but—"

Q stopped again when the gun pressed against his face.

"Please! Just—"

Q woke up, his body covered in sweat and the sun shining in through the windows. He looked around, panicked at first but upon finding himself in the hospital, calmed down considerably. He tried to recall his nightmare, tried to figure out what could've scared him so much, but he had completely forgotten the dream.