Phoenix Rising

by Macx

It should have been a normal mission. In and out, no sweat. But then Bond goes missing. For days. Q isn't really worried; his agent has always come back. But this time is different. He can feel it. Something bad has happened, something terrible, something that has never happened to Bond before. Skyfall AU, Firewall series.

1. Chapter 1

Series List:

1. High Voltage

2. Live Wire

3. Sometimes the Words are Hidden

4. Seasonal Currents

5. Redeemed

6. Not All the Facts

7. Under Pressure

8. Circuit Breaker

9. That Which Is Home

10. Lunatic

11. Mostly Business As Usual

X XXXxxx x XXXxxx x XXXxxx x XXXxxx x XXXxxx XXXxxx x

"I'm not a field agent, the past notwithstanding"

Bill Tanner, Chief of Staff of MI6, looked at their head of Q branch, drawn between agreement and resignation. "We know that, Q. But we need you on site with your agent."

Q sighed. "The moment Bond gets this close enough," he held up his prototype that looked like a smartphone, "I can hack it."

"Too many variables."

"You think the satellite will fail?" he scoffed.

Tanner smiled. "No. But if intel is right, the target might have protection against unauthorized access."

"Tanner, I'm not an agent," the quartermaster repeated, his tone of voice changing to that of a parent talking to a stubborn child. "I'd be in the way!"

"007 is your agent. You are his handler."

"Very good. We all know that. Now, what does that have to do with me being in the field?"

"The handler is where he needs to be."

Q stared at him, refusing to be pushed into this when there was a perfectly good alternative.

"M's orders."

His face was a mask. "007 is perfectly capable of doing what needs to be done."

"You have been with your agent before."

"In the background, Tanner, not active and infiltrating a building."

"This is too important to risk failure. Stop arguing, Q. You're going."

Q glared some more, just for good measure. "You are going to regret this."

The Chief of Staff smiled thinly. "I already am."

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"This is a bad idea on so many levels!"

"But it makes sense."

"Don't. Just… don't. Logic isn't working, Bond!"

The agent in question watched Q as he packed the necessary equipment in a special case. It looked like a regular suitcase, but it wasn't. Q branch had invested heavily into making an ordinary piece of luggage seem like nothing special while it contained explosives, weapons and maybe even fissionable material.

"M wouldn't risk you for nothing, Q."

Brown eyes blazed with fury.

Bond weathered the storm.

"I know they think I'm the perfect asset, but I'm not! I have no field training!"

"You're not required to."

Q snapped the case shut and hefted it off the table. "Exactly! I'm required to sit in an underground bunker and assess situations, guide an agent, dig up information the agent might need, and in my free time I run a whole branch and invent nifty new equipment! If I have to leave aforementioned bunker, it is to deliver equipment for a Double-Oh or assist in the background. Did you notice the difference? Not operating in the field, Bond, I work in the dark, in the shadows, and over a comm. line."

The blue eyes of his partner crinkled a little around the corners in a half-smile that barely reached his lips. Bond was highly amused, which had Q want to… well, he would prefer not to get violent.

"You would find that funny," he growled instead. "I'm a liability!"

"Hardly."

"I'm not a field agent!"

Bond leaned closer. "You can handle a gun. You know when to duck. That's all there is to know."

"So every idiot can do it."

"No. I need you, Q. You have the abilities. You're the only technopath I know."

"I'm the only sane one anyway. And that's still debatable." He glared at the suitcase, then at the Double-Oh.

His partner looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Q gritted his teeth. "It's a bad idea."

Mindful of the security feed and the possibility of one of Q's minions walking in, Bond bumped his shoulder slightly against Q's.

"Maybe, but it does make sense."

And they were back where they had started out.

Q looked into the so familiar blue eyes, seeing past the hard edge, the ice, the ruthless creature hidden underneath such a very nice exterior. He saw the phoenix, the preternatural, and he saw Bond. It was one and the same man, but so different.

"Camera, Q," Bond said and the quartermaster had only a second to scramble the signal technopathically before the agent leaned even closer and brushed their lips together.

It was a brief, teasing but still so warm contact. Bond didn't withdraw, simply rested his forehead against Q's.

"Is that how you convince all your reluctant helpers?" Q murmured.

"Hm, mostly."

"And it works?"

"Always."

He chuckled. "You are so full of yourself, 007."

Bond's hand was caressing Q's side and he found himself relaxing.

"It'll be a nightmare," the quartermaster repeated and drew back.

Bond smiled lop-sidedly. "Welcome to my world."

"Exactly. It's your world, not mine."

"You share my world all the time. And we've been in the field together."

"Never like this. I don't have the training."

"You do. This case is right up your alley, Q. We need someone with your skills right there, not across the Atlantic. You were briefed on the details."

Q sighed. Yes, he was. And he knew M was right, that he had called it the way it was: they needed a top-notch hacker in form of a technopath.

Damn.

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::This is a nightmare::

James Bond looked around the room filled with people in evening gowns and tuxedos. Important people. Rich people. People who had the right connections to be here.

And among the crowd was a figure in a black tuxedo, holding on to a glass of champagne and looking like he wanted to be very, very far from here. Bond let his eyes briefly run over the slender man, admiring the view. Q looked… smooth. Suave. He wore the tux nicely.

::Don't look so surprised:: the quartermaster muttered.

"Why shouldn't I?" Bond asked, masking his question by taking a sip from his own champagne.

::Even we egg heads from Q branch can clean up nicely::

"You always look nice, Q."

::I bet you say that to all your psychically linked handlers::

"I'm monogamous, Q."

::Since when?:: he teased, though he wasn't serious.

"There's only room for one geek in my soul."

Q was silent and he could almost feel the eyes on him, burning an invisible hole into his back. He tried to push the warmth away, but it was hard. In the past two months things had intensified. Ever since New York they were so much closer. Bond had finally told his partner how he felt, and it had been the truth. Nothing but the truth.

He loved him.

Bond walked through the crowd, lithe and dangerous, prowling, keeping an eye on matters. Actually he was keeping an eye not only on Q, but everything. He had seen his partner arrive five minutes ago, handing his woolen coat over at the reception and joining the other guests.

Q was technopathically linked to the comm patch and the special ear piece he had designed for the Double-Oh agent. The frequency was only known to him and he used the prototype to work on his technopathy, as well as keep in contact with Bond without anyone being able to tell who he was talking to.

And Q did look nice. Always. He might not run around MI6 in a suit and tie – the tie was there, though – but the way he dressed was very much him. The cardigans, the sweaters with the block colors, the vests, together with striped or checkered or uni-color pants.

::Running through the lines again, 007?:: the younger man finally asked, voice even, not betraying his thoughts.

"Not a line. The truth."

People were milling, talking to each other, some trying hors d'oeuvres, some refilling drinks. All around them the gallery was showing the recent works of an up and coming artist. Neither Q nor Bond had an interest in his work.

::Get working:: Q only said.

"Already am. Just be ready."

::I am. I'm not here to just stand around, chat and be bored::

"You also look good," Bond purred, then cut the comm. line as he homed in on his target.

x X XX x

Across the room, Q emptied his champagne glass, refusing to be baited.

Bastard, was all he thought, but without fervor.

Bond was doing his job and so would Q.

x X XX xx

In the end Tanner had been correct in sending Q in as well. Their target was very good, was knowledgeable when it came to countersecurity measures against hackers, and if he hadn't been there, he might have lost the connection more than once.

Not that Q would tell Tanner that in those words.

They acquired the code, Bond had to take out a few goons, business as usual.

Bond's expression was knowing when they were on the flight home.

"Enjoyed yourself?" he murmured, sipping at his cocktail.

He didn't deign the question with an answer. James interlaced their fingers throughout take-off, squeezing his hand.

Q closed his eyes, automatically anchored himself within the dark presence of the phoenix, and shielded his mind against trying to log into the plane's electronic network.

Bond's thumb brushed over his hand, reassuring, calm, strong.

x X XX xx

They were home ten hours later, touching down in London without a problem. A limousine, MI6 edition, was waiting for them and Q, tired and jet-lagged, slid into the back. He closed his eyes, a light pressure behind them, as strong fingers briefly curled around his wrist.

The pressure eased.

"Tired?"

"No," he muttered. "Dead on my feet."

Bond smiled.

The limousine stopped in front of Q's place and he was surprised that they hadn't been carted off to M for a debrief.

"We have until tomorrow," Bond told him when he got out.

"Oh."

He walked into the elevator like on automatic and when he was finally in his flat, he fell face first onto the bed.

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When James Bond went silent and dark, Q didn't really think much of it. He made a note in his log and kept an eye or two on the possible reappearance of his agent. He felt no alarm at all. Double-Ohs, and most especially Bond, had to go deep sometimes. They had to shed every form of surveillance, be it on them or sometimes in them, to stay undetected. Not even facial recognition software would be able to find him then.

At least until they wanted to be found.

Yes, he was that good.

Bond had a tendency to go under and reappear as if nothing had ever happened, as if he hadn't been out of contact, and Q would take it in stride.

He always did.

It made them such a good pairing as handler and agent.

It also had nothing to do with the more intimate relationship, the psychic bond between them, and the fact that the preternatural side of Bond was bound to Q. Yes, he was keeping the other man sane. Yes, Bond was the technopath's anchor. Yes, they did share more than that. Bodily fluids, beds and living space.

But on the job they were professionals.

Half of MI6 already suspected that the two men were a couple, in a relationship, more than just fuck buddies. The other half was scoffing at the very idea that a man like Bond could be interested in more than a one-night-stand with the head of Q branch.

Q wasn't sure if he should really take offense at that. They did make an unlikely pair and he had been aware of it from the beginning. That James Bond took whoever he liked to bed, man and woman alike, was a known factor. That he flirted with everyone, especially those he needed to gain something, was also a given. It was just Q who stood out. Q was his quartermaster, his only handler. He already gave him all the toys and he safely brought him in and out of an operation.

So why?

Q was amused by the grapevine. He sometimes had to hold back a laugh at the speculations, especially when it came to dominance and submission. Or sexual prowess. Or appearances. He almost blushed one day when he caught the back end of a heated discussion in the break room. A woman, who could be his mother, argued that he was 'cute', that someone had to be blind no to see what a catch he was. Another pointed out that they were right and Bond and Q had been together for a while now, looks weren't everything.

"But it doesn't hurt that he isn't hard on the eyes," the first one said.

Then there was giggles.

Q sighed.

The employees of MI6 should really be more careful when it came to conversations over social media and internal emails. As quartermaster, Q had access to a lot. As a technopath, he had access to all.

Right now he simply did his job. He read through reports, signed applications, went over the dozen or more new and complete gadgets from Research and Development, signed off on more proposals for new and improved offensive and defensive tech, and of course reviewed and logged mission reports. It was always a good idea to stay on top of field performance of his technology and equipment as reported by other agents.

x X XX x

Three days into the continued silence from Bond's end, M asked for a meeting.

"Do you know where he is?" the head of MI6 asked bluntly.

"No, sir. He went silent and dark."

"I know that, Q. It's in all the reports. I also noticed the lack of updates from 007."

Q kept a neutral expression.

"The last came from some obscure location in Kazakhstan."

"Yes."

"And he went dark."

"Yes."

Mallory sighed. "I know Bond has a knack for disappearing, but I had hoped he would at least give you some life sign."

Q raised an eyebrow. "It would be risky, sir."

Mallory mimicked the eyebrow.

Q relented with a shrug. "I didn't get anything."

Not through official channels. Not through unofficial ones. Not through technopathic means. Bond was… gone.

"Is he alive?" M asked, voice even and straight-forward.

"I would hope so."

The older man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table top. "I'm not asking your opinion as MI6's quartermaster and 007's handler, Q. I'm asking as someone who is linked to him; bonded."

Q blinked, biting back on the brief moment of panic. He had never mentioned just how deeply he felt connected to Bond to anyone, let alone written it down anywhere. He hadn't reported back on the strengthening bond. And he was sure Bond wouldn't say a word of it either, even under torture.

This was private.

It was theirs.

And nothing could be proven.

"Sir?"

"Q."

M knew. Q suddenly realized that their boss knew a lot more than he let on, through whatever channels he had found out. How he could have ever guessed this was beyond him, but he knew.

The quartermaster fought to maintain his professional façade and not panic at the idea of M knowing how close he and Bond had become. There was no such nonsense as the fraternization rule at MI6 and everyone knew that agents rarely found a permanent relationship within their own ranks, least of all a Double-Oh like Bond. He was notorious for his one-night stands and changing bed partners.

But Q had changed this.

Q was a permanent fixture in his private life who didn't influence his work. There was no jealousy, there was no anger at Bond's continued flirting and bedding of women and men on the job. Q accepted that this was needed and he knew it, too.

Nothing could ever compare to what he and James shared, what they were for each other.

And he wasn't an insecure person either. He knew who and what he was to Bond. He knew what Bond was to him. It was this firmly lodged shard of knowledge in his soul, this presence of the phoenix, this immovable fact.

Now M knew.

"He's alive," the quartermaster finally said, proud to hear his voice was calm, even, professional.

M cocked his head a little, then nodded, though his expression was intense and not the least bit relaxed at the reassurance.

"Alright."

"Will that be all?"

It got him a brief smile. "That will be all."

Q turned and walked out of the office with measured steps. Only when he was back in his own department did he allow his stiff posture to relax a little.

M knew.

Crap.