Q returned to MI6 the following Monday after a weekend spent deciphering the content of the USB stick. Only Moneypenny wondered briefly about the quartermaster's apparent mood change and since it obviously was for the better she left it at that. When Tanner two days later came by Q-branch, bearing the gift of a nice cup of Earl Grey together with his ever present paperwork, he was met with a deep frown which turned into a sincere smile, once Q had pushed a few keys on his laptop and turned on a screensaver.

Q stretched his arms and back before he turned and took the offered cup. It was in the middle of the night and Q couldn't remember when he last had taken a break.

"Thank you," he said with a sigh before he took a sip. "Perfect."

"M wanted a status report on your work with Nine Eyes, and he said something about missing documentation for the final reports on Spectre," Tanner explained.

Q's smile faltered a bit.

"Here I thought you wanted to make small talk," he said with a put-upon pout.

"I'm sorry, it's just —," Tanner stopped, fidgeting with his papers. "The hearings were postponed, and we hoped with the Nine Eye debacle and everything —"

He fell silent again and looked down at his shoes, shifting a bit.

"M had hoped that," Tanner cleared his throat. "He hopes you were able to save some of the information and codes that had caused the security breaches for C to take advantage of in the first place."

He looked around the clutter and empty desks that made up Q-branch these days.

"You are rather lonely down here, aren't you?"

Q looked about the place.

"It has its advantages," he answered with a small twitch of his mouth.

"I'm currently trying out a new security system, alerting me of any intruders or" Q gave Tanner a pointed look "listening devices."

Tanner contemplated the situation for a moment.

"M has new information on Spectre — and someone or several someones in the government are apparently trying to rebuild the organisation."

Somehow, Q managed the look of surprise and disbelief.

"How?"

"M doesn't know and we aren't sure."

Tanner talked fast now.

"As it is, M only trusts Moneypenny, you, me —"

A meaningful pause, for which Q wanted to add and Bond. Tanner just gave a small nod to the unspoken words.

"We have no idea who else could be involved. Some of the people working for Spectre might not even be aware of who is giving their orders."

Q took some more of his tea. It was a ridiculous situation, but he couldn't disclose his own knowledge at this point. He needed time to figure out who was to be trusted. Tanner hadn't mentioned Bond and Q was not going to do so.

"What do you need from me?"

"Any information you can gather from Spectre's old servers and whatever else is still available from the Nine Eyes project. At this point, anything might help. We have no idea what we're up against."

Tanner looked utterly helpless and Q had to bite his tongue. As it were, he could show some information Bond had gathered for him without giving him away. He had extracted some of the encrypted files as well as put together several of the pieces of the intel MI6 had recovered before everything went down the drain.

"Do you have anything I could start out with?" Q asked trying to look innocent.

Tanner quirked an eyebrow but let it pass when Q began putting away some of the gadgets from his desk. Projects could wait for another time. As could the application forms. No need for a nosy assistant snooping around for the time being. It was a relief when he realised that he could work on this particular project for now, helping Bond and M at the same time. The whole process of rebuilding Q-branch could be used as an excuse for him not working on any new projects officially.

Tanner looked around Q-branch once more, before he pulled out a USB stick from one of his pockets.

"This is everything M could retrieve from government files and the hearing so far. He believes Olivia had something up her sleeve if the hearing had become threatening to MI6's continued existence — but we haven't been able to find any secret-hiding places yet."

One more thing to look for and ask Bond about. Surely, he had to be the most trusted of old M's minions. If something had survived the blast and subsequent destruction by C, she would have been able to hide it away.

With renewed vigour Q put the stick into the computer and opened the files. Tanner excused himself without getting a reply from Q, who was already immersed in the information unfolding in front of him. Data, words, sentences evolved from unrecognisable strings of numbers and letters. It was an arduous process with setbacks, detours and blind ends. Slowly, patterns emerged and became tangible, workable, spreading out and opening up.

Q stayed at MI6 until the weekend, only taking breaks for a nap, a cup of tea, or some food. Tanner came by twice. Q's computer screen would be blank except for some cute cat gifs while Q himself would be looking through yet another application, until Q had made sure Tanner was on his own. That was when Q updated the Chief of staff. Still, Q was unable to give Tanner any real news. The bigger picture eluded him. Q had a few larger pieces of the puzzle, but nothing useful for M yet.

Q kept Madeleine's role in this mess to himself for now. Trusting Tanner and M was one thing, but Q had to be sure they wouldn't go after Bond once he explained about Spectre's true leader.

Finally, on his way home to prepare for his meeting with Bond, his mind was still trying to make sense of all the input. As Tanner had said, something vital was missing. Q had been able to plot out most of Spectre's old organisations as well as a few existing contacts from within MI6. Bond had told him that Madeleine was the current head of Spectre, maybe even since C and Nine Eyes. It would explain why Blofeld tried to kill her and why he was left alone afterwards. The heavy security measures MI6 applied right after Blofeld's incarceration had been replaced by customary guards. No efforts had been made to free him. Not even a high profile lawyer had been available to him. Q had been surprised by this, but had thought nothing of it back then. Like everyone else he had assumed that Spectre simply had been destroyed and Blofeld had been the only one left.

Lost in thoughts, Q made it to the club. Without sparing a glance at the dancing men, he went straight for the bar.

"Did she give you anything?" Q asked without preamble, frowning at the drink Bond placed in his hand.

Tanner's comment about the old M leaving something behind to save MI6 had been on his mind for the past days.

"I presume you're talking about Olivia," Bond asked grinning.

"Tanner came to me."

Bond tensed visibly. Confused, Q looked directly at him for the first time that evening.

"You told him?" Bond asked, now looking for the nearest exit.

"Told him? Of course not!"

Rolling his eyes, Q tsked at Bond.

"But M suspects Spectre is still active."

Q took a sip from his drink and made a face.

"What is this stuff?" Disgusted he shook his head.

"Anyway," he continued, annoyed. "Tanner mentioned M, Olivia, had some kind of information or knowledge which could be used if MI6 got into trouble."

Q eyed the drink warily. Bond had regained his composure, even as his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"The only thing she left behind was that blasted bulldog."

"A dog?" Q pushed the drink away from him. He must have misheard or this stuff really was lethal. No way, old M had a dog.

"A small, ugly figurine in the form of a bulldog with the Union Jack painted on. Jack the Bulldog. Of course the only bloody thing that survived the first explosion back then."

Bond explained while he savoured his drink with a pointed look at Q, his mouth twitching in silent amusement.

"You still have it?"

Bond nodded. He didn't do knick-knacks but as difficult as it was for him to admit, he couldn't bring himself to throw the distasteful thing out.

"It's in a store room."

"Let's fetch it."

Bond raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Bond! This is the best we can do now," Q urged him on. "Or do you have anything new for me?"

"I need a few of your gadgets, Q. I hoped we could visit MI6 and then return to the hotel to, well," Bond shrugged. "But no, nothing new. I know something is up. Madeleine has been busy, but following her without you as my guide —" Bond shook his head. "It's just not the same."

Q looked disbelieving at Bond.

"It's not safe, Bond."

"You could get the stuff while I'm waiting. Then we could get that bulldog for you to play with."

Bond put on his most enigmatic smile. Q surrendered with a shake of his head, faking a disapproving look at Bond over the rim of his glasses. They left and Bond showed Q the way to a nearby parking lot.

There, half hidden in the shadows stood the Aston Martin. Q looked it over, unable to resist touching the shining bonnet. He had spent so many hours with this car, every little nook and cranny well known to him. With every little twist of a screw, every wire reattached to its rightful place, Q had been digging himself deeper into his infatuation for Bond; losing himself in daydreams and fantasies; the two of them driving through the English countryside; stopping at a secluded place where he would watch Bond divest both of them of their clothes, feeling callused fingers on his body, trailing naked skin — Q cleared his throat, drawing himself back to the present.

When he looked up, Bond met his eyes with an amused grin. Looking between the car and Q, Bond seemed to contemplate something. Q shook his head.

"Better get going, Bond. You tell me what you need and I'll fill you in on my findings while we drive."

Bond opened the car door for Q, who huffed and murmured something about not being a bloody damsel, you git! Only enticing Bond to behave like the perfect gentleman in helping Q into the car and softly closing the door behind him. With an exasperated sigh Q put on his seat belt and crossed his arms, scowling at Bond when he sat down in the driver's seat. Unperturbed, Bond started the car and put it in gear.

It took almost two hours to collect various gadgets and get to the store room. Bond found the small figurine with no difficulty among his meagre belongings. He handed the bulldog to Q, who took it almost reverently. As was customary for these kinds of figurines, it was hollow and a prying finger didn't reveal anything. Q held it against the light, weight it, but nothing seemed forthcoming. They moved back to the car with Q deep in thoughts, his fingers ghosting along the ridges and curves of the bulldog.

"Shit!" Q stood frozen to the spot, staring at the thing in his hand.

Bond had stopped and turned towards him, watching intently for any signs of distress or danger.

"I know what she'd done," Q said and started running towards the car without further explanation.

A bit confused, Bond followed.

"Get me back to MI6. Now!"

Q didn't elaborate, just sat there, stroking the ceramic bulldog with closed eyes. Bond took the fastest route back, making sure they weren't followed or caught on CCTV, even if Q could probably erase any evidence of the latter. Bond parked the car a few streets away from the main building and looked expectantly at Q.

"Well?"

"Hm?" Q opened his eyes and looked around him. "Oh, yes. Thank you."

He was about to open the door and leave the car, when Bond held him back.

"Not so fast, young man," he said, amusement back in his voice. "What in the devil's name happened back at the store room? And how will I contact you?"

Q frowned, turning back towards Bond with a puzzled look on his face. It took a few moments before he seemed to realise what Bond was talking about.

"Uhm, sorry. I, well, I'll be on the comms. It's safe. At this hour, I'm the only one at the office. And I need to analyse this." He held up the bulldog.

Bond's only reaction was a look of incomprehension. Q rolled his eyes before he realised that Bond obviously couldn't know what was going on. He showed Bond the ceramic.

"It's the very first of my projects. I always thought, M — Olivia — was testing me. Never worked with this stuff again."

Bond shook his head with a small smile.

"Q, you're not making any sense. What is this?"

"This," Q let his finger trace over the painted Union Jack on the figurine. "This is paint made of nano chips. Each one is able to hold millions of data sets. Texts, photos, movies, anything you can digitise. It's a kind of hard drive."

He looked with utter fascination at the hideous thing in his hand.

"This is the prototype. Never worked with it again," he said, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Q continued to explain the details while Bond watched him closely. He was far more fascinated by this extraordinary man than by the gadget despite its potential. Q lit up whenever he had a chance to explain his inventions and ideas. His eyes became wide and bright, his stance proud, authoritative. Demanding. It tickled Bond in ways he had buried deep inside himself, even before Vesper. Only Tracy had gotten close enough, trusted enough for him to let go. He sat and listened, wondering if he could have it all again.

Q's voice faded when his attention turned back to Bond. Bond's interest in Q was unmistakable. Unconsciously, Bond licked his lips when Q met his eyes.

"Kiss me, Q," Bond whispered. "Hard."

Q's eyebrows shot up, before slowly moving closer.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Q held Bond's eyes, while his breath ghosted over Bond's lips.

Bond held still. His eyes were dilated, his breathing fast. Q took his time. With his free hand he trailed Bond's lips, let his fingers slip between them, feeling just the tip of the tongue. Their eyes were locked on each other, Q's pupils blown as much as Bond's. He grabbed Bond's neck and pulled him close. The kiss was fierce, lips parted and Q's tongue invaded Bond's mouth, exploring, taking. When he ended the kiss with a bite to Bond's lower lip, he just stopped himself from leaving a mark. Madeleine was probably suspicious already.

The thought of Madeleine was like a cold shower. He yanked back, leaving Bond breathless and utterly confused.

"What —"

"I'm sorry. Sorry, James, I —" Q leaned close again, softly touching Bond's cheek. "We need to get back to work. I don't know how long I'll be able to keep my hands to myself. And this," he waved the bulldog in his hand, "this will help us. But it will take some time before I can extract the information."

He looked determinedly at the appalling beast in his hand.

"That was the problem back then. Retrieving the nanoparticles and putting them back in order."

His voice trailed off again, his mind working on the problem, almost forgetting everything around him. Bond couldn't help the warmth spreading in his body, seeing Q like this. Lost in deep thought, still flushed from their kiss, Bond wanted nothing more than to let his hands slide through the black curls, feel their bodies move together, naked skin on skin.

Later, Bond thought. Later.