Excerpts from the journal of Q.

Disclaimer: If I owned Q or Bond, they would never leave the safety of the bedroom.

AN: The dates are varied and not really meant to be important-only one or two were chosen for a reason-. I threw in a few references to OCs which are also not that important. Emily is a subordinate and Martha is his sister.

July 14, 2012-

Today I met the infamous James Bond for the first time. I have seen him before, of course-there are records of it in this journal. This time, however, we are on something close to even footing. I am the ranking Quartermaster to his SA position. We are now reliant on one another.

To have finally encountered him "in the flesh" so to speak, seems a somewhat surreal experience. He is as attractive as the picture in his personnel file. To say his psych report is apt is to say Noah built a boat. We spoke only briefly and yet I can only say that he is a man of irascible character.

The glimpses I have seen of him previously, the near mythical tales I have heard of his exploits with the fairer sex are all granted a greater plausibility. Despite his attitude-something edging on aloof and unprofessional- he has a certain charm in the wryness of his smile and the charm rather than the words is what lingers.

Even now he is the subject of most of my thoughts. The content of this journal would have it seem as if we had spent a great deal of time together, spoken at depth, and exchanged enough words to provide insight into a man I know so little about. This is not the case, far from it in fact.

Our meeting was but a fraction of my day. I met with the financial department to discuss this month's budget, I worked with a small team to correct the imbalance created by the new stun gun blanks in our field rifles, I fulfilled many of the menial tasks associated with my position. And yet these events are shrouded by a handful of moments in front of a picture of a boat.

November 17, 2012

Bond continues to be a nuisance. I have mentioned his charm; it seems to be a permanent affix to his personality along with his smugness. He has the luck of the devil and a surety which grates on my nerves. No matter the situation, the collateral damage, or the reaming he receives from his higher ups as a result, he reacts however he likes and somehow gets the job done regardless.

No other agent has such a record of destruction. No other agent has lasted as long in the field. I would think he'd choose to settle for a desk at his age. On the other hand I cannot imagine him choosing to sit back while another agent did 'his' work nor playing the games of bureaucracy and politics required to grow in a government agency.

He irks me and yet somehow we seem to work together incredibly well. His mind works in ways which I will never understand. He takes the information I provide and manipulates it, applies it in a manner that is both inspired and confounding. I have, in fact, given up trying to understand how or why he does anything.

There are only two things I can say about him with any certainty: He will die as an agent and he will destroy my tech doing it.

December 14, 2012-

Moneypenny has convinced M to hold, in addition to the annual holiday party, a secret Santa gift giving event. Names were drawn from a hat and I am quite convinced she attempted to cheat. I drew Emily and I think, by the look on her Moneypenny's face, this is not who she had hoped I would receive.

Presents have never been a forte of mine. Despite my own general apathy for the idea-there is no reason to assume a coworker has the insight into my personality or life in order to select a particularly memorable gift, nor for me to do the same-I find myself a bit concerned. So far as underlings go, Emily is one of my preferred. She is kind, intelligent, and competent and also one of the few in 'the office' who arrived after me. There is little that can cause strain-and conversely to relieve the stress of such strain- in a work relationship more than for one member to believe the other has received a high position undeservedly.

I would like to find something Emily might actually enjoy and this leads me, though I cringe at the thought, to call my sister.

January 1. 2013-

I woke today in time to enjoy the early morning fog and drizzle. I welcomed the New Year with my family and did not arrive home until past two. The morning is pleasantly sleepy, leaving me content to sit at the window and write.

The past year has been many things. The coming year is likely to be the same. I have, I hope, hit my stride as Quartermaster. There are those who still resent my fast ascension through the ranks but I have quickly asserted my ability and authority and I will deal with any further doubts or jealousies with adamant success.

I have lost touch with some friends. I admit I don't have a particularly large amount to spare and I was distressed by this for a while. I have realized, though, that in their place I have gained some whose company I enjoy and whose loyalty I am grateful for.

I have yet to find a romantic partner nor to convince my mother that I am content without one. This is an acceptable failure when stacked beside the things I have accomplished.

I have contemplated the act of declaring a resolution for the next twelve months. I pondered the idea of getting in shape, but the best goals are those clearly defined and I cringe to think of recording here a goal which to another man seems paltry-to run a distance without stopping for breath, to bench press a weight of such and such-and then to fail.

I'm sure I am physically capable of achieving these minor goals but my personal aversion to exertion tells me I will not. I know myself and I can already imagine the half a dozen excuses I will use by the next week. Ultimately, I will not want to and so I will not do.

An academic goal, easy and without risk, is one I can accomplish. To break the previous Quartermaster's record of agents assisted by new technology-this would not be too hard, I believe I am already close-To teach Moneypenny and M-they are now a team- how to outwit a low level genius in a game of chess. To invent something Bond cannot break.

And, perhaps, to overcome the fear of failure.

February 14, 2013-

Joy of joys, miraculous day! Bond returned from Indonesia today. This is of course no more than anyone hopes for the double-O's following a mission. No, the surprising, joyous addition to his return was his visit to Q branch where I received all five of the devices I sent with him. In tact. Functional. Every one of them.

Even Moneypenny smiled and winked at him.

As for myself, I was exceedingly pleased. I even saved the cricket-a combination of gears and wires which emitted a sound capable of temporarily deafening anyone not equipped with proper ear protection and crippling them with pain-in the drawer of my desk. I lowered the settings first and it now makes pleasant chirping noises reminiscent of a song bird.

In addition to my collection of armaments-all five!-I found two boxes of chocolates on my desk, a testament to the holiday. One is from Martha, the other unknown. I was so pleased with Bond I offered him a piece which, I think, amused him.

When he first saw the boxes, garishly red and heart shaped, he appeared rather cross and I gained the impression that he disliked the holiday. I rolled my eyes and made some sort of quip, a joke I believe about secret admirers or candy hearts, and this set him more at ease. I often find it odd to be the least enthusiastic member of some festivity. Making jokes with Bond gave me a strange feeling of kindredness.

Then again, perhaps I was only giddy from the return of my toys.

February 27. 2013-

I have been providing some assistance to Bond during his assignment in Western Russia and find myself very anxious for his return. The mission itself is no more complex than usual, which is to say extremely dangerous and urgent. I have no doubt Bond can handle it, but there is an additional factor that bothers me.

There is a woman who goes by the name of Darla. I have of course traced her history and this is by no means her legal name, but the fact remains that she is now a facet of Bond's work. I dislike her immensely not because she is a criminal but because I do not trust her. She is the sly sort and I despise the idea that I must put one of my SA's-they are mine as much as they are M's and certainly more than they are the government's-in her care. I fear she will return, or perhaps only reveal her true loyalty, to the target, and in doing so put James in harm's way.

I cannot fully justify my distrust and so I have restrained myself. I told Bond to watch his back and somehow found myself on the end of a flirtatious remark. The man is a walking migraine, but I can only hope his new 'interest' is not the woman I imagine her to be.

March 03, 2013-

Lost my mind, slept with Bond.

March 06, 2013-

I have not written in three days. I ought to say four, my last entry is hardly worth mention. Somehow Bond has become the center of my thoughts. My mind has been in turmoil, such turmoil that it did not occur to me that perhaps recording my thoughts might help to sort them.

I am at a loss as to what to do. Surely this was intended to be a unique event. I said this to myself. I thought, "He'll likely feign it never occurred at all."

Oh, but he did not. No, he came in to the office and flirted worse than ever. Then I thought, "Well, at least I know he isn't seeking a relationship."

Why? Because it's Bond. The man has a long standing flirtation with Moneypenny, a track record of bed partners as long as the decimals of pi, and enough suave grace to terrify my poor interns.

Somehow, this is actually the problem. I'm the monogamous sort. Even in a casual relationship, even if it isn't a matter of emotions or commitment, I hate navigating the waters of whether I or he could date others, flirt with others, fuck others. And Bond is certainly the type to dip his toes in more than one pool.

So it can't happen again. Flirting I'm sure can't be dangerous but nothing else. He's far too charismatic for me to maintain any distance if we go further. I'll lose my head and there's nothing I hate more than to fail to be rational.

March 19, 2013-

Lost my mind again and gave up.