No one really thought much of it when Bond returned to MI6, largely because no one had really taken it seriously when he’d left.  As compared to his supposed ‘death’ prior to the events of Skyfall, walking off with Madeleine Swann seemed like more of a joyride than anything.  And once the agent’s brain had recovered from its two new airholes, he was back to M to explain. 

The explanation was more of a formality than anything.

As the inflammation in his brain had died down, his debriefing became more lucid and detailed.  There were many considerations to the whole messy, complicated issue of SPECTRE; there were also certain steps that needed to be taken to secure the organization and flush out double agents and plants.

One of the Q branch techs turned out to be a traitor; though Adrian Whittaker had been with MI6 for 8 years, extensive research eventually brought to light the fact that he had compromised numerous agents and deployments by feeding information to SPECTRE.  In fact, certain portions of the data infrastructure would need to be completely recoded to close up leaks that he had introduced.

Discovering the damage he had done was a major blow to the entire department; the depth and breadth of the breach was hardly conceivable.

More concerning, though, was that the data trail branched out to implicate several other staff members in various departments.  It turned out that while Whittaker had been a major player, he had not masterminded some of the extremely delicate, nuanced methods by which data was being shared.

That was how the Quartermaster of MI6 had come to find himself in a dim room with his hands cuffed to a table, pleading with professional interrogators that he was innocent and had been set up.

-------------------

Bond was reeling from the news that Q was most likely a double-agent.  He had been sleeping with the Quartermaster for, what, a year now?  Two?  It was a well-guarded secret, one that they should have disclosed to their supervisors but hadn’t. 

It wasn’t that it was serious, not exactly.  It was serious enough that Q had laid into him for running off with the blond daughter of a criminal kingpin for a week, but it wasn’t as though they were living together.  So they shagged a bit and liked to sleep late on weekends.  So Q kept a few changes of clothes in Bond’s closet; it was half-empty anyway.  So Bond had a weakness for when Q tucked his head under his chin just so when they they were curled up on the sofa. Those three words had never been spoken.

Even so, Bond thought he knew the other man well enough to recognize treachery. 

But then, he hadn’t seen it in Vesper; he had fallen madly in love with her and completely missed that she was a double-agent.  He had made a point of not falling in love with Q, not really... had he still managed to miss it? 

Was this just how it went for him? 

Well, could he ever choose them.

He was consumed by fury at the idea of Q betraying MI6 and their country. Him.  Q had betrayed him.  He wasn’t sure what made him more angry, really; it felt wildly personal.

Mallory knew that he and Q were friends.  Maybe he’ll talk to you, his commanding officer said as he authorized Bond to visit the detained Quartermaster, I want you to try.

And that was how James Bond found himself sitting opposite his tired, handcuffed lover in an interrogation room on the 16th floor of the new MI6 building.

“I’m not here because I want to be,” Bond said wearily, meeting Q’s eyes, “So if you could get talking and get this over with so I can leave, I’d appreciate it.”