"I don't want to go."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I…"

"Arthur. Shhh."

Gentle fingers ran along his lips and Arthur closed his eyes, revelling in the sensation. Two years of this man's touch and he knew he would never tire of the feel of his body pressed against his own. If only life had seen fit to allow him that privilege for a little longer. "What greater honour is there to serve your country in the fight against foreign threats? You were born to do this…"

Before he could form an adequate counter reply, he was silenced with a kiss. He broke away after a few long moments. "You know I wouldn't have traded my favourite jumper for the time we've had together."

Arthur found himself laughing despite the tight, hollow feeling in his chest. Gentle fingers lost themselves in his thick locks. "We both know if you don't accept the offer now, they will find someone else, someone less capable. That would be a travesty and you would be directly responsible for placing the country's security in jeopardy."

Arthur sighed. "You're a bloody arsehole, do you know that?"

"But I'm a wise-beyond-my-years arsehole, am I not?"

Arthur looked at him and felt his heart clench again. "I don't want to lose you."

The beautiful face smiled warm. "Losing me is inevitable and unavoidable. But you don't have to lose both me and an opportunity you have worked towards for most of your life."

Arthur buried his face in the man's neck. "I know. The fact of the matter doesn't make the truth of it any easier to accept…"

Q was staring at the photo in his wallet when Villiers cleared his throat to grab his attention.

"M will see you now, Quartermaster." Q nodded and rose, still partially lost in the memories of his former life.

He entered her room with his usual quiet stealth and stood in front of her desk, waiting her attention.

"Yes, Q. What can I do for you?" Of course, M already knew. She wouldn't be a very good Head of Intelligence had she not eyes on every single loop of the chain that made up her Agency. Broken chains were as much a concern as the smooth running of the operations that depended upon the strength of those links.

"I would like to request 48 hours compassionate leave, Ma'am."

"Of course, Q."

"I—," he faltered, completely prepared to argue his case. He'd not been expecting a complete rollover on his request from the woman. Still, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

M folded her hands on her desk and gave him her full attention. Said attention was unnerving at the best of times, times when Q's brain wasn't peppered with bittersweet memories and shards of emotional pain.

"And please know, Q. I am very sorry for your loss." Of course she knew.

"I know the sacrifice you made for MI6 and your country. Personally, I am very grateful that you saw fit to step up to your duty despite the cost to yourself. And if I've learned anything from you and your work in the four months during which you have been with us, I know he would have been incredibly proud too."

M's speech was doing little for the lump in his throat. He did his best to clear it before he spoke again. "Thank you, Ma'am."

She kept her gaze on him. "I have only two stipulations."

"Of course, Ma'am. Anything." He could hardly deny her when she had been so accommodating.

"I assume you are confident that your second can cope adequately in your absence and will be able to reach you should anything dire arise?"

"Yes, Ma'am. That is a given."

"Good." She turned her attention back to her paperwork. Q felt his stomach sink a little. That gesture usually meant it was something he wasn't going to like but if he dared cross or question her on the decision he'd be on the proverbial naughty step for a month.

"I want Bond to go with you. He's off mission for a few days himself. I've asked him personally already and he was happy to accept. I can't have my Quartermaster wandering about the wilds of Southern England without adequate protection. Because if I know about this, you can be damn sure there is a possibility that others whom we don't necessarily want privy to such knowledge will know as well."

Q bit the inside of his cheek. He, for his part, didn't particularly want Bond privy to aspects of his personal life he would rather keep personal. He was about to risk suggesting a compromise, an alternative Double-O perhaps, when she raised her eyes but not her head to meet his own.

"Dismissed Q. See you in three days."

"Yes Ma'am. Thank you for your understanding." Q stepped backwards away from her desk, hands clasped hard behind his back before turning to exit her office.

He stood outside for a moment and was taking a few levelling breaths just as Villiers appeared from around the corner with M's second cup of morning coffee steaming in his hand.

"Is everything alright, Sir?"

No. Everything is not bloody alright. "Yes Villiers. Everything is fine."

"Nothing a long walk off a short Brighton pier wouldn't solve," he mumbled under his breath as he headed back to his office to tidy up some loose ends and head home to tend to his cats and send them on a little trip of their own for a few days.

So that was that. Tomorrow, Bond would be his personal bodyguard at the funeral of the only man he had ever loved, his soulmate taken from him by cancer, while Q had sacrificed himself on the altar of MI6.