Q's newest modification worked wonders. Bond was able to follow his conversation with Silva as if he was sitting together with them. While he was still worried about Q's safety, Silva seemed less interested in punishing Q. In fact, Silva was more upset about MI6 and 'mother' as he continued to call M. Bond was left with a feeling of missing something important, but for now, he had to find Ronson.

Somehow, Q managed to prompt Silva into bragging about his plan, including how to get the hard drive from Ronson. When Bond heard the name 'Patrice' every red alert went up in his mind. MI6 were unable to contact Ronson, who hopefully knew he had been compromised. Bond was relying solely on the information, Q was able to extract from Silva–and what Q himself could find while faking to work for Silva.

When Bond finally touched down in Istanbul, Q had found Ronson's whereabouts. Incredibly, MI6 were still unable to provide any intel for Bond, despite Ronson apparently hiding in one of their own safe houses. Cursing at the incompetence, Bond had to outrun Patrice, Silva's preferred assassin, known widely for his ruthlessness and proficiency–and on the most wanted list of Interpol.

With the sound of Q's exaggerated sighs and whining and Silva's continued bragging and cursing about 'mother' and 'rats', double-crossing and betrayal in his ears, Bond made it in time to partake in the shoot-out between Ronson and Patrice. Ronson had taken a bullet already, and Patrice was about to kill him off, when Bond burst through the doors, taking Patrice out with one shot to the head. Ronson sent Bond a small smile before collapsing, still holding on to the damnable hard drive.

Changing his earpiece, he got in touch with Q-branch, letting them know about results of the mission. Bond cut them off before they had time to ask questions, instead he focussed on helping Ronson.

A few hours later, a dazed Ronson was leaning on to Bond as they boarded the plane back to London.

Bond was furious. The mission had been a success, but Q was still in prison with Silva. While Moneypenny visited daily, M was trying to cut through the hassle and get a release order for Q. Q on the other hand had been asking Moneypenny not to relocate him yet. He was sure, Silva still was up to something.

It took two weeks, before M could sign a transfer order, getting Bond custody of Q. By then, Q had finally sussed out, what Silva's masterplan had been. Silva himself was relocated to a high security cell at MI6.

Both Q and Silva arrived at MI6 with the same van, handcuffed and shackled. They parted ways, Silva droning on about how he soon, very soon would have his revenge; Q subdued and uncertain.

As soon as Silva was out of sight, Bond appeared miraculously in front of Q. The cuffs and shackles were quickly removed.

"Nervous?" Bond asked, having shoved both of them into an empty office and closed the door.

"Shouldn't I?" Q asked, carelessly stripping in front of Bond. "Right now, Silva is exactly where he wants to be. If any of you guys make the slightest mistake, we'll have Ragnarok at our hands."

Suspiciously, Q eyed the bunch of clothes, Bond provided him with.

"You're sure they'll fit?"

Bond smirked at Q, now unabashedly ogling him. Q threw him a glance, then, with a smirk of his own, he stretched out, showing off his slim, firmly muscled body. Turning slowly, he let Bond drink in the sight. Not one single mark was visible on Q's skin, and Bond couldn't hide his relief.

"Fought him off for the past three days," Q answered the unasked question. "Moneypenny did show me a few tricks."

Bond laughed out loud at that. Of course she had.

Q got dressed, the shirt, suit, and shoes fitting perfectly, as Bond had expected. Q had a short, brave fight with the tie, before Bond took pity on him, fixing it with a few, practiced moves.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," Q answered, squaring his shoulders.

Together, they walked through the corridors and halls of MI6, Bond nodding a greeting at the people they met on their way. Most of them, stopping and turning, were clearly wondering who 007 was escorting up to M's office. Only Moneypenny greeted both of them with her wide smile. Before she could open the door to M's office, Q stepped up to her and hugged her close.

"Thank you," he said quietly, burrowing his face in her dark curly hair.

She hugged him back, holding him close for a few moments, until he was ready to let her go.

"Go, show her!" she whispered to him.

Q cleared his throat, pulled the sleeves of his suit straight and looked back at Bond. He gave a small nod, and Moneypenny opened the door to M's office.

-o–o-

M stood by the window, when Q entered, followed by Bond who closed the heavy door behind them. She didn't turn right away, as if lost in thought. Bond was used to her shenanigans, but he had no idea how Q was going to cope. As resilient as he had been in prison, this was a new ballgame altogether. A sigh, and M eventually turned and looked at her visitors. With a lifted eyebrow, she assessed Q. The ensuing small huff not necessarily approving of him. Q stood still, unflinching, watching her interested but seemingly unimpressed. Bond felt a peculiar pride in Q standing his ground.

"Mr Smith," M finally acknowledged Q, with a nod indicating one of the chairs.

Bond remained standing at ease, besides Q. He hoped his presence would give Q some kind of reassurance. Q leaned back, crossing his legs, and folding his hands loosely in his lap.

"I prefer Q, M'am," Q answered quietly.

M looked annoyed, but let it pass.

"Bond told me, you've found out about Silva's plans," she stated instead, not wasting any more time on niceties.

"Not Silva, M'am, but Tiago, Rodriguez Tiago. If I've understood it correctly, he had been one of your agents, before he presumably was killed by the Chinese?" Q's voice was pleasant and even.

There was no hint of the satisfaction, Bond felt at this revelation. How could Boothroyd and his minions have missed this? However, M blanched, pushed a button on the intercom and ordered Moneypenny to send for Tanner and the files on Tiago.

She drew a deep breath, then sat down in her chair, facing Q.

"What else?"

"The virus, I've told Bond about–I'm sorry, I've–" Q worried his lip.

"Yes, yes, water under the bridge." M waved her hand impatiently. "What about it? What else is Tiago planning?"

"He wanted to get incarcerated here, at MI6. The virus, once activated will open every single electronic lock. Including the high security cell, he is in." Q paused. "The virus activates the moment someone in Q-branch plugs my phone into one of your computers. The phone I modified in prison?"

M looked at Bond, who shrugged his shoulders.

"I told Moneypenny. I hope she has kept it safe?"

Once more, M punched the intercom.

"Moneypenny?"

A few seconds later, the door opened, and Moneypenny entered, Tanner in tow. She had Q's box with her and gave it to Q, who couldn't hide his relief, when he found the phone, still safely wrapped up and hidden away. He cleared his throat and sat up.

"There is one thing more," he said, interrupting M, who was discussing with Tanner about the files.

Tanner looked interested at Q, who smiled back.

"You have a mole. Here. He or she has placed small bombs at strategic places all over this building."

Everyone fell quiet, even M's annoyance changed into right out anger. Bond instinctively stepped closer to Q, scanning the room for anything that might be an explosive device.

"Unfortunately, I've been unable to suss out a name, but I've made a map with the most likely placements of any bombs. It might help in finding the culprit."

Q's voice never faltered, neither did he look away when M stared him down. He unwrapped his phone, powered it up and struck a few keys. Then he smiled at Moneypenny.

"The map's in your mail, Moneypenny."

M looked between Q, Moneypenny, and Bond.

"The three of you, out. Bond, make sure to keep Q safe–and make sure that thing," she pointed at Q's phone, "is kept far away from our system. Moneypenny, the map, and I want you to guard Tiago, make sure no-one gets close. Tanner," M drew in a breath, "you better have everything we know about Tiago!"

M's face was set in stone as she took charge, barking out the commands. Before Bond left, she gave him an appreciative nod, then called for Boothroyd to get to her office.

-o–o-

Bond lead Q down to his car, opening the passenger side door for him. Q sighed when he sat down and pulled the seat belt in place. Bond started the car and pulled out of the parking space. They sat in silence for the drive home to Bond's flat.

Q was biting his lip again, clearly worried about something. Bond too, was worried. During the past weeks, Bond had only had little time to contemplate his relationship with Q. He knew M, and he had no doubt that Q had a future position in Q-branch waiting for him. Boothroyd's failure to alert MI6 to Silva's plan was inexcusable. That would make Q a co-worker, maybe even his supervisor when he was on a mission. Bond would like that. Listening to Q's voice, guiding him. Yes, he most definitely would like that.

And he most certainly would like Q to stay with him. As his partner. The only question was, would Q want them to become partners? Q had never actually agreed to any of the plans, MI6 had made on his behalf. He was still a prisoner, not in charge of his own life. Not free to consent to any of this. They would have that talk, rather sooner than later. Bond was a man of action, and he had made up his mind.

Q was half asleep, when they arrived at the flat and Bond had parked the car. He nudged Q gently awake, then took the infamous box and a large suitcase from the car and lead Q to the lift. The flat was cleaned and tidied, ready for the new occupant. Bond showed Q the kitchen, bathroom, and the small guest room with a single bed. During the whole time, Q hadn't said a word, and when he saw the guest room, his shoulders fell. He was fidgeting with the hem of the suit, looking utterly defeated and alone.

Bond put down the suitcase and turned towards Q. He opened his arms for an embrace and Q let himself fall into it, clutching desperately at Bond's suit, barely holding back his sobs. Bond just held him, let him cry, holding on to him, until the sobs became silent sniffles. Q drew back, lucking flushed and embarrassed.

"Sorry," he whispered hoarsely, waving a hand at Bond's ruined suit.

"Don't worry. I've a few clothes for you in the suitcase. You can change, take a bath, take a nap. I'll be in the living room with tea and sandwiches."

Q nodded, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Bond went back to the kitchen. Half an hour later, Q walked into the living room, dressed in a grey tracksuit, his feet bare and his hair fluffy and wet. He stood in the middle of the room, as if waiting for someone to tell him how to proceed.

Bond stood up from the sofa. He gave Q a hug and a chaste kiss on the head, and Q leaned into him. Both of them sat down, Q nudging closer, keeping the physical contact. Bond poured some tea, indicated milk and sugar and Q just nodded. Q took a sip, closing his eyes and clearly savouring the taste.

"We need to talk," Bond said quietly.

Q responded with a small sound, a bit scared, a bit fatalistic.

"I would like you to stay with me, here, as my partner," Bond explained, taking the bull by the horns. "I know, you're tired. You need rest, probably a talk or two with psych. I mean, I practically raped you, beat you up–"

Bond stopped, and looked nervously at Q. Q looked at him with wide eyes, his fingers tightening around his mug.

"Could you," Q began, then swallowed, "could you please repeat the first thing, you said?"

Bond grinned.

"I would like you to stay with me?" he dutifully reiterated, his grin widening as Q just nodded with a dazed look in his eyes.

"You mean it?" he whispered.

"Yes."

Bond leaned into Q and kissed him on his lips, taking care not to spill any tea or disturb Q's glasses. Q responded, slowly, but when Bond wanted to withdraw, Q followed him, catching his lips, licking and sucking on them. The small sounds he made drove straight to Bond's groin. He took hold of Q's mug with his free hand, and put it on the coffee table, then he lay down, pulling Q on top of him. They stayed like that, kissing and cuddling. Q basking in the warmth and gentle touches Bond provided; Bond feeling an emotional grounding, his life clicking in place, as if an empty slot finally was filled.

Q murmured something unintelligible into Bond's shoulder.

"Hmm?" Bond pushed Q gently to the side, trapping him between the back of the sofa and his body.

"The sex, you know, in the cell," Q was biting his lip again, and Bond pushed himself a bit further away, worried.

"Yes?"

"I wanted it."

"You had no way to consent, Q," Bond sighed.

"No, I know, but," Q huffed. "James. I, uhm. I really liked it. Would you–could we do it again? Like, soon?"

Bond hugged him tight.

"Sure, Q. Whenever you like."