First date

Quentin could admit to himself that sometimes he tended to get stuck in the digital world, as opposed to what was for most people considered the 'real' one. Considering that the real world was chaotic, unpredictable and boring at turns it wasn't surprising that he tended to shy away from interactions there and took to his laptop instead.

So while other people his age sought each other out for various kinds of social interactions or just got spectacularly drunk for no benefit he could discern, Quentin had other things to occupy his time with that seemed of greater importance to him – and near all of it was either found, or learned, online. Though, perhaps, not always in a place he was officially allowed access.

That didn't matter in the end, because if Q was anything, it was a very quick learner and he learned not just from his own experiences, but also from his fellow hackers' mistakes.

Q was cautious enough to learn the lay of the land before doing anything and the young hacker honed his skills by slipping in and out of systems without making any changes or copying any data that could be traced back to him.

And he was paranoid enough to go to extremes, layer upon layer of security and false trails, to protect his identity, location and IP.

But even with all his precautions, with learning slowly and ghosting around the digital world and secure networks like nothing more than an easily dismissed bug, there was still something exciting about it – about the challenge of it and the information he could find and learn on a variety of secure networks. The digital world sang to him, a humming tune that Q could follow so much easier than anything else.

But no matter how much he loved spending his time online, Quentin still knew better than to think he could retreat into that world entirely – and that was not just due to his mother's nagging when he still lived at home to spend less time up in his room but to socialise or do his actual homework for once.

Besides, continuing on to higher education after high school was pretty much a must, and Q was aware enough of society's demands that he gave in gracefully enough.

His family had been utterly surprised by his choice for Mechanical Engineering as opposed to Computer Science but for him it was no more than logical to focus on something besides his passion for computers – after all, he didn't want to get bored when school tried to teach him things he already knew or would be working on in his free time anyway.

Instead Quentin actually got to learn something new in his daylight hours. Classes were fine – it was easy enough to keep up with the coursework as long as he worked efficiently, which he always did. Most of the lectures were rather boring as the teacher explained in such a way that even the dimmest of students could keep up, so he generally let his mind wander, working out engineering sketches or algorithms in his notebook. But some of the practical workshops were actually useful and aside from his homework, he also had access to the workshop for his own projects.

So on a whole, he found that he didn't regret his choice at all.

And next to his university, in the digital world he thrived in, Q did some white hat hacking and mostly kept an eye on his fellow hackers - infiltrating their systems unnoticed.

In a way it was more dangerous to go after his fellow hackers than after the sort of companies or governments that most hackers dared themselves, or each other, to infiltrate. But in a way it was safer too, because hackers were generally loners and whatever revenge they wanted to take, they would take it digitally which was arguably less permanent than the physical world because Q was good and could start over again from scratch if necessary.

He'd already made sure he was as untraceable as possible in real life by building his laptop from several components paid for in cash and never hacking from home to ensure that his IP could not be linked to him – should someone somehow break through his defences.

And, of course, there was also the fact that a hacker wouldn't have the means to go after him in force as governmental agencies could.

So, yes, he hacked the hackers, as invisibly as he could, and he watched and learned and dodged and made sure he was aware of the developments and possibilities out there in the digital world. He kept his head down, tested his own skills but didn't really do anything obvious aside from looking and learning and testing and honing his own skills. And that was enough for him.

Until one evening when he hacked someone with the handle 'H8' and found that this person had either recovered or collocated a list of agents' names from a governmental agency. Not just any agency either – a British one. MI6.

He read through the list, considered the implications and finally, breathlessly, hacked the agency himself, very, very, carefully to verify. And found that yes, as far as Q could tell from his checks on several of the names the list was accurate.

He hesitated and used the backdoor he'd left open in H8's connection, stealthily digging through the hacker's systems until he could track the IP to a café. From there it was only a matter of accessing the security cameras to find a roughly thirty-year old man intensely working on a laptop.

Then Quentin swallowed, his fingers hovering above the keyboard for a long moment, because the choice he was to make now could end up having severe consequences.

His breathing was heavy, sounding loud in his ears despite the white noise of chatter from other people further away in the room he was sitting in.

But he made his choice.

Some hackers worked on an 'honour amongst thieves' type of moral code, others were only looking out for themselves and the biggest payday – or boast.

Q fell into neither of those categories. H8 most certainly fell into the second.

A judgement he felt was valid, because H8 was someone he had come across before and most of what he'd seen had made his nose wrinkle up as if it was subject to an unpleasant smell.

So the brilliant hacker didn't feel particularly guilty, just resolved and a little bit terrified when he finally decided to step out of the shadows to very politely inform MI6 of the situation.

He considered his quiet corner and let his gaze skim over the rest of the interior of the Ziferblat cafe. It was not busy at this time and most people gravitated to the comfortable lounge seats, so there was no-one seated nearby who'd be able to see what he was doing. Q nodded to himself and forged on.

Taking a deep breath, he remotely turned on the largest screen he could find in the department he felt was most relevant to his needs, listed as the quartermaster branch, and started typing.

'Q: Please pardon the intrusion', he started, watching the words appear on a large screen visible on the hacked feed from MI6 itself that took up a corner of his laptop screen.

He then hesitated on how to bring this diplomatically and in such a way that they would actually believe him. He did not care to be hunted down by a governmental agency in return for his act as Good Samaritan.

'While I consider myself a white-hat hacker, I feel that speed is more important than legality in this case, hence my rather bold action. Aside from testing companies' defences I also have a tendency of hacking hackers – not maliciously, but to keep an eye on developments and possibilities. An hour ago I came across something on a hacker's systems that may be of vital importance to you. Please let me know if you are reading this… (y/n).'

His lips twisted just a little as he watched the chaos his message caused amongst the tech branch. It took nearly ten minutes before someone finally pressed the 'y' on the keyboard that was linked to the screen he had taken over. They were clearly trying to trace him and he vowed to keep a sharp eye on how close they came.

'This is a list, presumably originating from your servers, though it is also possible that the hacker known as H8 collocated it himself.' As he typed this, he threw the list in question up on the left side of his hijacked screen, shifting his text to the left.

Then he paused, realising how this would come across.

'I realise that as a hacker currently inside of your system I have made myself your number one suspect with this course of action. Still, I hope you will at least consider running down the information I present you with. If not, I will at least have achieved one thing. That your agents will be aware of a threat to their identities as well as the possibility that their mission details may well have been leaked.'

He paused in his broadcasting for a moment to ensure the people tracking him wouldn't find him, throwing up several more digital roadblocks. It would also give them some time to digest his words before he continued on.

'As far as I am aware, this is H8.' – he threw up the current feed from the coffee shop, replacing the list. 'His IP places him here' - he decreased the video's size on the screen and added a satellite image of the man's current location to the display. 'Of course, when it comes to hackers there is always the possibility of error due to false trails, but I consider that only a minor possibility at this point in time.'

He hesitated. He had informed them of the threat – not quite an anonymous tip but as close as he could manage with any form of urgency. He supposed he should leave it up to them now. A spy agency should be perfectly capable of dealing with a situation as this, shouldn't they?

'I am uncertain whether I should offer to remove the information from this man's laptop. It should mitigate the immediate problem, of course, but it will also get rid of any evidence - and any information trail you might be able to follow from his laptop would be muddied. But then, I suppose any proof is already suspect as I may as well have placed it there. Which would admittedly not be particularly difficult. And although I can find no print command for the file on his laptop, he may have taken a photograph, sent out a copy, or used some other method to record the data so erasing it is no assurance of anything either.'

He paused and considered the situation for a moment more before sighing.

'Still, for the safety of your agents it may be best to remove what I can. But I am no governmental agency – surely you have some form of opinion in this?'

After another long delay, a simple, hesitant looking soul pressed the 'n' on the keyboard.

'… you do realise that the fact that I am capable of discerning whether you press an 'n' or a 'y' on the keyboard indicates that I am also aware of any other keys you press? A more elaborate answer might have been helpful in this case. Still, I shall take that as a 'no'.'

'I will leave you to it, then? I'm not certain if I can be of any more help aside from this and that what you can now see below; H8's IP address. I hope my own is still safe after this rather unwise endeavour. Do keep your agents safe, please? I would like this to be at least somewhat worth whatever consequences may follow from either involved party.'

He hesitated for a moment and then figured, in for a penny in for a pound, and drew up the type of white hat hacker report he usually did. 'Also. Since I'm here – I've noticed some holes in your security, please refer to the report now available on your servers. And, once again, pardon the intrusion.'

'Wait', someone typed. The camera feed showed him that this was someone else entirely than the technician who had replied to his queries before.

Q blinked and waited. 'Yes?'

'How do we know that this is valid information? And you're not trying to manipulate us into going after one of your enemies?'

'I would assume that you have your ways. If your investigative skills are as poor as your digital security I shall be rather worried about the defence of our fair country. I am merely encouraging you to do what you supposedly do best: find out who is threatening your own and keep our country safe. If you would. Please. So, goodbye.'

The broad-shouldered man who'd muscled into the situation and had claimed the seat in front of Q's hijacked screen looked up at Q's reply. 'Wait,' the man, agent he guessed, typed again.

Quentin paused for a moment, aware that the man was just stalling now. And yet - the slow smirk he could see forming on the man's face was maddening, but impossible to look away from. 'What now?'

'You're from England? Is that why you're helping us?'

He pursed his lips and decided against confirming that. 'As difficult as you may find it to believe, I am, indeed trying to help you.'

'Well, that's fortunate, because I have something you could help me with,' the agent typed with his smirk gaining an edge of satisfaction.

'From that utterly scandalous look on your face I am rather afraid to ask,' Q replied, a remark that kicked the gaggle of presumably IT personnel that had been ineffectively scurrying around back into more frantic movement again.

The man's eyebrows rose but he didn't start looking around for cameras and didn't lose his air of amusement either. 'You're a hacker, right?'

'Obviously. Do you require any further proof of that?'

'Well, since you offered… On my last mission I was sent to China and my target got away. I brought back his laptop, but so far the techies haven't been able to trace him.'

And that was a clear challenge that Q would be wise not to be dragged into any further. But he was curious and since he was already there, metaphysically speaking, well it would be rude to refuse. So he delved a little deeper into MI6's servers until he located expenses for foreign travel, found China on the list and discovered the name of this particular agent. Which made it easier to find the agent's mission files.

After a quick look around to ensure his corner of the café was still private, he linked up his headset to convert his spoken words into text displayed on that screen. The voice recognition software was his own design, good enough to distinguish his own voice from the background noise and to pick up a quiet word even in a crowded room. This left his hands free to hack as well as for a quick response to whatever the people from MI6 tried to throw at him.

"Your most recent mission, Agent Trevelyan?" he said softly, his words appearing on the screen in their quartermaster branch, "Ah, a Mister S. Tseng, was it? Quite a piece of work. Did he insult your manly prowess? Is that why you're so dead-set on finding him?"

'My manly prowess is just fine,' the agent typed back, seemingly unoffended, 'How's yours I wonder? Can you even find him?'

"While I do have pride in my skills, I'm not sure what's so very manly about them. In fact, what makes you so certain I'm not a woman?"

'Breaking into MI6 like this and then baiting me? You're a woman with balls at least.'

Q shook his head at the bluntness he wasn't much accustomed to. "I did apologize for the intrusion. I was actually trying to be polite about the whole thing. And, well, not piss of a beehive of trained killers."

'Well if you're going to be polite about it, I'm sure you wouldn't mind doing me this one small favour.'

Despite the banter that came to him naturally when he was speaking, Q was already working on it. It wasn't easy because he only had a name to go on, as well as several last known locations with a timestamp. He went through the known associates, hacked into their phone records, piggybacked onto a satellite to get the GPS coordinates of several possible phones and – actually found the person who matched the photograph.

He threw his new find up on the screen, replacing the camera footage of H8 with one of Tseng and adapting the location marker blinking on the map below. It was, embarrassingly enough for the Chinese man, webcam footage. When would people learn to permanently disable the built-in webcams in their laptops? You'd think they would know better.

"Is this the man you're looking for?" he politely queried, despite being relatively certain of his find.

'When is this,' the blond-haired agent asked, sitting up straight in his seat, face serious.

"Now," Q immediately replied. "I am now remotely installing this GPS tracker with the man's location onto this hard drive – your own people should be capable enough to put it on your phone if necessary. Do be aware that the tracker is linked to his phone, not the man himself."

The man's eyebrows went up. 'I'm a trained MI6 agent. You think I don't know that?'

"Well, as your technical department was not able to find this Tseng, despite the fact that your mission was 'completed' over a week ago and they had physical access to his laptop, I thought it best not to overestimate anyone's technical knowledge within your organisation."

The snarky tone wasn't entirely bluster either – he had believed that an organisation like MI6 would have far better means and security than they had. It was rather disappointing, though he supposed it did bode well for his own chances of getting out of this with his anonymity intact.

'Ouch,' Trevelyan typed back, smirking again.

"Will that be all, agent?"

The agent leaned back a little, looking utterly satisfied with himself for some inexplicable reason. 'How about your own location?'

"I don't invite anyone over before the third date, agent. Otherwise people will consider me 'easy'."

'Who cares about what people think,' the agent responded.

"Well, easy is rather boring as well, isn't it? Let's try it the hard way instead," Q answered, feeling his heart beat in his throat from his own ridiculous daring. It was easier from the safety of his own laptop, secure in his anonymity but it was still both thrilling and utterly terrifying to banter like this with a dangerous-looking agent.

'Ooh, feisty little hacker, aren't you?'

"It's like you know me already. Safe travels, Agent Trevelyan. Q signing off."

That should have been the end of it.

But now that Quentin had actually done something concrete with his hacking skills he was both nervous – paranoid really – and, well, excited about it.

It had been bold and inadvisable, certainly. But it had also been the most thrilling thing he had ever done. The whole endeavour had been challenging and almost addicting.

It certainly made him somewhat more understanding why his fellow students pulled the ridiculous stunts that they did. Pure adrenaline, probably. Q just got his rush in a different, and far more sensible, way than his age-mates.

So, yes, the young hacker kept track – as invisibly as he could. And when, during one of his classes, he got the alert that he'd forwarded to his phone, he nervously waited for the class to end and skipped the rest of the day.

He left campus entirely, bought a first class train ticket and sat in a quiet train to a neighbouring city.

Then he found the GPS linked to Tseng, noted it was still in the same location, and hacked into the cameras of a warehouse in China where he had tracked the man to before.

He found the Chinese man on his screens easily enough.

And he also found the agent he had communicated with before. It had been Trevelyan's entry into the warehouse that had set off his alert.

Q watched through the security cameras at the people already lying still in several of the hallways and at how the agent took down all remaining opposition with frightening efficiency and, in Quentin's own opinion, utter brutality. And then the agent reached Tseng – and took him down too. Permanently.

This was far more violent than Quentin had ever expected and he was thankful that the only people who could possibly see him flinch at the real-life images were strangers on a train.

He took a deep breath and hijacked the dead man's computer to write with shaky hands in his usual script.

'Q: You're quite terrifying, Agent Trevelyan.'

The man grinned madly at reading that message and Q felt both threatened and immensely gratified at the same time. Even more so, on both counts, when the other man sat down in front of the computer, surrounded by dead bodies, and answered him.

'Good evening to you too, Q. Did you get curious? Or are you the mastermind behind some kind of overreaching criminal organisation that Tseng is part of?'

Q shook his head and willed his hands to stop shaking by reminding himself that he was halfway across the world from this deadly, dangerous man. When he answered, he did so with a truth that would hopefully dissuade the organisation from this kind of violent response - should they ever, somehow, find him.

Which they shouldn't.

It provided only a slight hint to his real identity that, considering that most hackers of his calibre were young, he didn't feel was a big risk.

'Considering how dull company life seems to me… Perhaps that will be a more desirable option for me after I finish college.'

'You're a kid? Really?'

'So people try to convince me. I'm not fooled by these so-called adults at all, though,' he answered despite the fact that he, at 20, definitely counted as an adult himself. He grimaced as he typed that, because for some reason he didn't want this man to see him as a child but as a capable person.

Logically, though, it was a sound decision to make MI6 underestimate him. And it might encourage them to take it easy on him, should he ever get caught.

Trevelyan shook his head with that same grin. 'You can always join a governmental agency after you finish school. No need to go super villain.'

'But that sounds so… legal,' he joked.

'Does it? Hmm, than you're probably doing it wrong.'

Q actually huffed out a laugh at that, despite how morbid the whole situation was. 'Well, you've certainly opened my eyes regarding what is and isn't considered an excessive use of force. I'll make a note to erase my entire existence after this.'

'Aww, don't be like that. Whatever happened to all that feistiness?'

'It remembered being shoved against lockers by those more lacking in the brain department, noted that violence is highly uncomfortable and is reconsidering all of its life choices.'

'Don't worry little hacker. I would only shoot you a little.' Was that a leer on the man's face?

'Is this how Russians flirt?' he asked, emboldened by anonymity.

A brief pause in their communication. 'I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I, kid?'

And Q honestly couldn't tell if the man genuinely meant that – the smirk he'd been wearing before had faded into a more serious expression so it didn't seem like he was joking. Strange.

'Oh no, do carry on. Ill-advised flirtation is what college is for, or so I've been duly informed.'

'Oh, splendid. I'm an expert when it comes to ill-advised ideas.'

'I've read your file, agent. I am entirely unsurprised. And speaking of ill-advised ventures, this was certainly one of them. So if you would please excuse me.'

'Leaving already? Homework to do?'

'It's around dinner time in England. Everyone needs to eat. Which is why I hope that the image of you sitting casually surrounded by recently killed people is not enough to put me off of food entirely.'

'You should try steak with vodka,' the man advised, complete with sage nod.

'Yes, I'm sure that will end well,' Q replied, 'thank you for yet another splendid idea, agent. Q signing off.'

Slowly he closed the laptop and let out a shaky breath. For a long moment he stared out the window without actually seeing what lay beyond them. The train carried him on towards Liverpool and once there he switched trains and went back again immediately, not at all keen on spending time anywhere but the safety of his home.

When he finally made his way back to the flat he lived in, the familiar building coming into sight calmed him a little and he tried to push the day's experience from his mind.

He trudged up the stairs, because their elevator still hadn't been fixed. Just as any other time that he was in the stairwell, he found himself becoming resolute at delving into the mechanics of elevators and fixing the damn thing himself. He made a mental note to actually do it this time.

But even engineering challenges weren't enough to take his mind completely off the frightening but challenging world of governmental agencies, spies and Agent Trevelyan.

A.N. Just, you know, bothering yet another fandom for no particular reason. Hopefully after I get this out of my system I can get back to the bunch of unfinished stories to my name.