Bond boards the plane back to England and feels restless. And it's not really that uncommon, but this mission wasn't the one which makes you high on adrenaline for hours after. He understands that Mallory does not trust him fully yet and wants to check him via less demanding assignment, but something involving more violence may have occupied the Sentinel inside of him for a while. Now he feels on edge and his fingers itch to destroy something (or – even more keenly – to touch every millimetre of his Quartermaster's skin).
He may have said that they can't bond, but it doesn't mean he doesn't want it with every atom of his being. He may have said that Q will find someone else, but that doesn't mean he won't go feral if another Sentinel would try to get closer to him. It was hurtful to hear that Q had never met anyone compatible before, but at the same time it made the Sentinel inside of him bellow with ill satisfaction.
He can't stop wondering... Would it really fill the hole inside his chest if he bonded? If he surrenders to this primal need and claims his Guide, would it truly feel that good to bind yourself with another person for the rest of your life at such profound level?
He has met those pairs of Sentinel and Guides who assert that it was it, that they had no doubts they found their complement. And he could not deny that they seemed content and matched and indisputably happy.
But Q is so young and genius and seems so fragile, how could he be meant for him? He's broken and old.
And now there's no chance for their faulty match to be fulfilled.
But Bond knows he won't just let go. He won't shut himself off. He can't.
They will both wreck each other completely and will probably savour every moment of it, just because they would do it together.
And they need to be careful about it. Double-ohs are supposed to be alone and Q is not someone who would accompany him out in the field – his domain is his technological magic. If MI-6 comes to know about their compatibility, one of them will be sent away to SIS' establishment at the other end of the world and it would be made sure that 007 and Quartermaster would never meet again. That Bond would not accept.
If only they had bonded spontaneously! MI-6 would have no right to separate them or deny their rights. But as Bond was too fucked up to recognise Q as his Guide back then in the art gallery—
They lost their only chance.
But Bond has dealt with impossible more than once, hasn't he?
ж
He's having take away cinnamon coffee again and this time he manages to actually bring it to work with him. Just when he's having his last mouthful and comes to regret he got medium instead of large, Bond walks into the Q-Branch like he belongs there. Q lets the excitement and longing fill him and double-checks his mental shields. He's getting better at dealing with his- the Sentinel's presence.
"How was the flight, 007?" the Guide asks, though he doesn't raise his gaze from the screen in front of him where he encodes the data that Bond obtained previous night.
"Short and uneventful," answers the agent and reposes his set of equipment on the desk, next to Q's keyboard.
"Do we have some festivities today?" Q teases, checking the items. "All of the toys came back in one piece?"
Bond smirks. "I'm sorry to say, but getting used to it would not be advised."
Q smiles in response and the gash at his lip re-opens. He reflexively licks the little blood that escapes from the ripped scab. Bond is watching the process too intently.
"Did someone hurt you?" he asks, his voice dark and the Guide knows he is ready to tear apart anyone that would dare to cause him pain. It's a bitter-sweet thought, he decides, as he observes the held back twitch of Bond's hand to reach to his face.
"No, it's my own fault," Q assures the Sentinel. I just can't stop nipping at it whenever I think too much about you, because physical pain is the easiest way to sober and not get drowned in my own strained empathy.
They stay silent for a moment. Neither of them wants to get apart again.
Q turns around reflexively when he feels another Sentinel entering Q-Branch. He sees Tanner accompanied by an unknown man with an aura of an agent around him. They seem to be heading to his workstation.
The Sentinel is unbonded and suddenly Q realizes the purpose of this visit. It's yet another attempt of MI-6 to find him a match. He glances at Bond and prays that this new agent would be far from compatible.
"Good afternoon, Q" says Tanner and then nods at his companion. "This is Jonathan Ewens. Brand new asset of SIS."
And not a double-oh material, so we want him bonded, Q adds in his mind. He forces himself to smile.
"It's nice to meet you," accosts Ewens. There's conspicuous interest in his gaze as he extends his hand towards quartermaster. The Guide accepts it and when the skin meets skin, sparkle illuminates Sentinel's brown eyes and Q fills with dread. Ewens found him compatible.
His shields break as fright hits him and Sentinels' emotions strike him: Bond's alarm as Ewens bonding pheromones spread into the air, younger man's surprise and—
There's a silhouette of grey wolf in front of him, his stance tense, fur bristled, teeth bared at Ewens.
Bond's spirit.
Rapidly, strong hands grasp Q's shoulders and move him aside with paradoxical delicacy. Then hell breaks loose.
Bond lashes out at the other Sentinel and both of them go feral, before Q's empathy calms down to an extent that allows him to take in the situation. They move with preternatural speed and Q feels dizzy. Tanner stands by him too shocked to react - he knows the law and both fighting man should be sedated, but he does not have the gun with him. He didn't expect that.
The crack of breaking bone seems to bring Q around. Those Sentinels are feral over him and he needs to do something. He decides to follow his instinct.
Ewens is pulling out a screwdriver from his thigh and the other Sentinel is kneeling next to him, swinging his arm for the next strike, when Q drops to the floor and puts his arms around Bond's chest. He stills at the touch, letting out incoherent roar from his throat. At the same time, Q focuses on Ewens and younger agent is brought to a standstill under attack of Guide's empathy.
Bond's confused growl makes Q startle and open his eyes. He sizes up zoned out Ewens with a relieved sigh and then shifts his empathy to the Sentinel in his arms. But this time he projects serenity and assurance of Bond's exclusivity over Quartermaster. The agent becomes limp when Q's fingers tangle into fair hair.
"Tanner," Q says quietly in order not to ruffle Bond's senses. "Please, take Ewens out of here. Preferably to Medical."
"Of course, sure," the man replies, still pale and not fully recovered from the unexpected chain of events. "What about 007?"
"To my mind no one should approach him for a moment," Q says and can't help the hint of the possessiveness that creeps into his voice. "Evacuating everyone from Q-Branch for at least half an hour would be a good idea too. There're no pressing missions being monitored at the moment."
Couple of minutes later, the place is emptied with exception of a Guide and half-feral Sentinel tangled in the arms of the former.
When they're finally alone, Q allows himself to plant a brief kiss on Bond's temple, his fingers still stroking short blond hair. The Sentinel is breathing heavily and his hands are clenched over quartermaster's calves, as it's the only part of the Guide he has easy access to.
"It's okay now," Q murmurs, letting Bond's scent fill his nostrils and calm him as well. "I'm yours, even if you can't have me."
As a response, the Sentinel whimpers with exasperation, still not able to form a coherent answer.
Q lets himself savour every split second of closeness with Bond. Now that Tanner knows they're compatible, those may be his last moments with Bond ever. So he needs to preserve as many memories from this as possible.
They don't know for how long they just sit there in silence, relishing the touch and intimacy, but too soon, the door are opened and Tanner enters, he looks resigned and gloomy and tired.
He does not approach them, only delivers a message.
"007, you are dismissed till the end of the week. Q, you are summoned to see M, now."
Getting out of Q's embrace is one of the most difficult tasks in Bond's life. And he overthrew governments.
Both of them realise it can be the last time they ever see each other and Q's empathy breaks under the weight of the moment. He's projecting a mess of emotions towards the Sentinel and seems unable to stop. A tangle of your touch burns me GO AWAY don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me hits him and it doesn't help at all, but then maybe helps a lot.
The Sentinel tenderly runs his fingers through Q's soft hair and leaves the Q-Branch without looking back.
He's not sure where he's going. People lower their heads under his gaze and get out of his way instinctively. He stops abruptly the moment his feet hit the pavement out of the building. He can't make another step. It's already too much of a distance. Q is too far away.
He starts pacing in front of the door and for once he's grateful for being known in the agency as the security just lets him walk around the Vauxhall Cross and doesn't shoo him away – especially regarding his aggressive stance and ragged appearance. His suit is ruined - the jacket is lacking one sleeve and his blood-stained shirt is gaped open due to loss of buttons, the material over his knees torn apart from flinging onto the floor too rapidly. There are a lot of nail scratches on his skin, a bite mark on one hand and bruises on the chest and back are starting to get sore.
But none of it really matters to him, nevertheless he is highly satisfied with his knowledge that the other Sentinel has a stab wound in his thigh, a broken wrist and impressive collection of bruises and scratches as well - many of them on his whippersnapper face.
His thoughts keep coming back to Q as he's finally fully recovering from the feral state. He's still hyper aware of everything, but is far from zoning out - his Guide is now the centre of his attention and his anchor. But some things that were previously lost due to his breakdown, now become transparent to him - that he's more invested into all this than he expected, that he gave them away and brought the cease of all their clandestine not-bond, and most importantly that Q made another Sentinel zone out without even touching him.
He had his arms around feral Bond, was unbalanced in the face of their fight and still managed to do it. Maybe one third of Guides is able to make a Sentinel zone out at all. And majority of them requires skin on skin contact to carry out the mental sedation.
Bond knew Q was a strong Guide but he never expected that kind of prowess.
He can't suppress a smug smile. He is his destined Guide after all. Of course he is the extraordinary one of the exceptional.
No wonder MI-6 wants him bonded so badly. Once he is balanced by his Sentinel and his full potential is finally brought out... Q would be one of the most powerful Guides in the world.
ж
Q is still little shaky when he reaches M's office. Moneypenny looks up from her papers when she hears his (almost dragged) steps. She must have already heard what happened.
Q had once thought she perceived Bond as a compatible Sentinel – because of the way she spoke about him, yet before the Quartermaster first met him in front of a painting of a ship – but then he heard it was her fault that an empty coffin with a name 'James Bond' on it was buried in the ground last time. She wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger if she ever felt the pull, even under the order. Though, she still acts protective over the agent.
Now there is caring and sympathy in her eyes as Q stops in front of her desk. She grasps his hand for a brief second, projecting calm and reassurance. He's not sure if he appreciates the gesture, so doesn't say anything.
"He's waiting for you," she nods towards the dark wooden door to her right and for Q it feels like pointing towards the gallows.
He enters and, as much as he would like to decline the gesture inviting him to sit, he is still not sure if his legs would manage to keep him standing throughout this conversation.
Gareth Mallory is an Alpha Sentinel and it's impossible not to feel submissive in his presence. His aura is one of those that ignite unshakable allegiance inside of you, especially when you're a Sentinel or Guide. That fact makes all this meeting inconceivably unfair.
"How long have you been hiding the fact that you and 007 are compatible, Quartermaster?"
Q licks the gash on his lip in a nervous manner.
"I felt the pull during our first meeting," he answers truthfully. "Bond didn't seem to reciprocate, so I never mentioned it. Then, after Silva, his senses were out of control and I managed to calm him and— After his senses sharpened again, he recognised me as a match as well." The usual confidence in his voice is gone and he can't stop feeling like a teen being lectured by his father on knocking up his underage girlfriend.
"Why did you dissemble the occurrence?"
"I thought it would be of no concern as long as it didn't affect our efficiency in work. We are both aware that we can't bond."
M eyes him carefully and Q is suddenly aware he must still smell of feral Bond. He can't stop himself from deriving comfort from that knowledge, even though he knows how wrong that is in his recent situation.
"Is it Profound?"
Q's eyes widen in surprise at the mention of that term. He never heard it being used in actual conversation. It's a word used only by the old and noble Sentinel lineages. Though it sounds considerably better than the modern one that descends from pop-culture (precisely from that terrible series about vampire Sentinel pulled towards bleak Guide girl who is also compatible with a werewolf) and became the one commonly used: "The Destined Match".
"You understand the term?"
The Guide almost startles. His amazement must have been too visible on his face.
"Yes, I understand."
"So what is the answer to my previous question?"
He doesn't know what to say. If he concedes, would that be the last nail to his coffin? Or should he finally stop playing games with MI-6?
There's an unexpected click of opened doors and Moneypenny bursts into the room.
"I am incredibly sorry, but there's extremely important call on the second line."
M frowns with discontent and sighs. "You are dismissed, Q. Both of you will be closely monitored from now on," he adds and makes a gesture to hurry the Guide to leave.
Once outside the closed door to M's office, he leans on the wall and takes a deep breath. Their status quo remains – but for how long?
ж
When Q leaves the headquarters half an hour later, after he put Daniel in charge of the Q-Branch for the rest of the day, Bond is standing in front of the building, still in his ragged clothing.
The Guide opens his mouth to ask what the hell the agent is still doing there, because he can't afford to spend any more minute in his company today, but then, he sees the longing and desperation in those sky blue eyes and he suddenly doesn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't... I can't have you too far..." Bond starts to mumble and a Sentinel should never look that miserably.
"It was our first and last slip," Q simply covers his conversation with M as a response and for a moment they both just stand there, avoiding each other eyes.
Q understands that Bond is unable to leave his side right now. He has just recently fought for him (and won) and now anyone near him is perceived as a threat. It would be easier if the Guide didn't reciprocate the pull, but in their case... For Sentinel to stay in too far distance would be physically painful and dangerous for his surroundings. He can't leave him at least until he's sure that Q is safe in his own flat and in no danger of meeting other Sentinels.
Not that the Guide inside of quartermaster doesn't feel the primal, irresistible need to comfort his Sentinel after the incident.
"I need to go home," Q says and Bond raises his head in rapid movement, panic curving the lines on his face into the mien of anguish. The Sentinel took the words as a command to leave the Guide alone. "Escort me," the younger man adds tenderly.
The smile that appears on Bond's lips is almost childish. He's still not fully recovered from the state of raw emotions after going feral and he is more expressive than Q has ever seen him. It makes his heart flinch uncontrollably.
He automatically turns left, towards the tube, but then he realizes that Bond is not poised for such a journey. There is specially sectioned off part of the train for Guides that holds the purpose of preventing any Guide from falling into empathic coma after attack of too many emotions of people crowded in a metal can underground. But Bond should not be exposed to any kind of clusters of people right now. He may even attack a Sentinel who just accidentally held his eyes on Q for a second too long.
"A cab, then," he says to himself as he starts looking around for one.
ж
Q opens the door to his flat and freezes in the doorway. Bond is standing two steps behind him and the Guide has never before been so much at loss. He wants the Sentinel to enter with him and never leave.
He turns around to face the other man even though he still has no idea what to do. What is there possibly to be done?
Bond doesn't look at him but takes a step closer. He leans towards slowly, till his nose brushes Q's neck. He takes a deep breath, scenting him and then his lips touch the pale skin just where the pulse point is. The Guide can't move, can't breathe and feels like he's falling and the only thing that keeps him upright is the tickling sensation of Bond's breath on his throat. He's not sure how long they last like this but when Bond finally recoils, it feels like he's ripping out Q's heart along with the movement.
Q withdraws into the flat in one quick motion and shuts the door. A sob escapes his lips when he leans heavily on the wall next to him and then slides down to the floor. He still feels Sentinels presence outside in the corridor and it's agonizing.
After what feels like eternity of lying curled up on the floor, the Guide stands up with effort and slowly walks into the bathroom.
He can't be that weak. He's stronger than that. He's Bond's Guide and he'll endure.
He turns the shower on and makes a promise to himself that he will get out of it composed and in control.
When he does - in clean clothes, with wet hair and resolution to get a grip on his labile life – he can't stop his legs from guiding him back to the front door. Before he thinks it through, his hands are unlocking the door and swinging them open.
Bond is still there, in his ragged clothes and covered in blood, sitting on the floor next to Quartemaster's door and Q opens his mouth and talks and it all seems out of his control.
"Come in. Please."
Bond raises his head and there's confusion written on his face. But also hope and yearning.
"Just come in," Q repeats weakly. He goes back into the flat and reckons that the agent will follow without questions. Just like he did back then, after Skyfall, when Q's Russian blue appeared to him.
Q takes a seat on the arm of the couch and waits. Bond finally comes and hesitantly sits at the other end of the sofa. He doesn't say anything but the Guide feels the question hanging between them. What are we doing?
And Q genuinely does not have an answer. What are they doing? What is he doing?
His eyes land on the scratched wounds of Sentinel's hands, unclean and almost fully scabbed.
"You're hurt," he says out loud and before Bond has a chance of replying, Q is already out of the room. He comes back a minute later with a first aid kit and sits next to the agent.
"Don't," he restricts before the Sentinel even starts complaining that he doesn't need help. He has already followed his nature today, went feral and exposed them. Now it's time for Q to be allowed to be Bond's Guide and look after his Sentinel, provide him comfort and solace, as his primal instincts tell him to.
He takes out a disinfectant and pours some of it on silk gauze – special ones for Sentinels. He takes a short shuddering breath before he takes Bond's hand into his and then ceases any movement for a moment to simply savour the bitter-sweet sensations that accompany skin on skin contact.
Bond stays silent as Q tenderly cleanses the shallow wounds on the older man's hands and forearms. It's almost like a ritual driven by rules unknown to any of them. But for a moment they're both closed off into their own hushed world, without any set of laws to shackle their desires and nature. Q is moving with watchfulness and concern, his slender fingers slowly dressing the scratches with plasters. When he's done, he packs the first aid kit, puts it aside on the table and stills.
What are we doing, really?
When Bond's hand touches his cheek cautiously, Q lets his eyelids close and allows other senses to take in the Sentinel. Not long after the first, second hand joins, but this time it slides from Q's shoulder, down, and warily folds around the Guide's waist. Slowly, with gentle force, Bond pulls the other man towards him, until he's straddled on Sentinels lap. He takes off Q's glasses and puts them aside on the table, next to the first aid kit. Their foreheads touch and both of them know, this is it.
After long days of the struggle, abstention, fighting own nature – it's all futile.
They surrender.
"Q."
"James."
Q imagined that if they ever take this step it would be more rapid, out of control and rough. But it seems like what they have now is already so intense, that they're afraid they'd choke if they took too much with their first bite.
Their kiss is slow and gentle and passionate. Bond's hands cradle Guide's face and Q is grasping the other man's shirt like his life depends on it. It's so overwhelmingly good to finally give in, that Q's mind is going out of control and his train of thoughts turns into stream of unintentionally projected raw emotions; take me finally I'm yours I'm yours claim me never let go of me again.
As their lips part for a moment, they're still sharing their breaths, gazing into each other's eyes; impossible sky blue meeting the warm green andit's all so obvious.
They're a Sentinel killing machine and an extraordinarily powerful Guide; destructive MI-6 agent and technical genius.
Once together, who can really stop them? Who would dare face them?
Nothing was ever meant to be simple for them but now it's so plain... Once bonded, they're unstoppable.
They both grin. They were so so stupid.
And then Bond's mouth journeys lower, to the neck and Q almost sobs with need. Sentinel is leaving a trail of kisses on the bared throat, the tension between them rising with every quickened breath.
"For god's sake, James, we've waited enough, just—" Q whimpers and Bond holds him even more tightly, but complies. He bites into the pale neck and grunts with overwhelming satisfaction. The Guide feels his whole body filling with heat, every fibre of his being surrendering to the Sentinel. A moan escapes his lips as Bond's mouth leave a painful bruise on his throat and it's the most sublime moment of his life. The bonding started.
"We shed— fuck" Q starts saying and then giggles at himself, because he's suddenly incapable of producing coherent sentence (and because he's just so ridiculously happy). "W-we should..." he tries again, trembling under the touch of Bond's hands that already took of his cardigan. "...m-move t— bedroom."
As a response, Bond shifts them and then guides Q's legs to wrap around his hips and arms around his neck. He gets up, doesn't falter even a little despite additional weight and heads to the corridor. Guide can't hold back the affectionate "My Sentinel, mine" at the demonstration of the other man's strength and Bond gives him a possessive grin.
They stop halfway, when Bond impatiently pins the Guide to the wall and kisses him thoroughly. It's their first kiss this passionate and hungry and Q moans invitingly when Sentinel's tongue explores his mouth. Every millimetre of skin that touches Bond's bare skin is burning him deliciously and he needs more. When they part to take a breath, the agent lets go of Q's hips and, without any instruction needed, the younger man slides to stand on the floor on his own. Sentinel praises him with a low appreciating hum and nibbles at the bruise at his neck that symbolizes their bonding. Bond's hands make a trail of caress along Q's arms, until they reach the slender wrists and almost violently pin them to the wall on both sides of Guide's head.
Q's breath shakes when Bond takes one of his fingers into his mouth and licks around it like he is trying to remember every line that's imprinted into the pale skin. He doesn't know how long it takes before every finger of his right hand has been explored by Bond, but by then, his mind is completely blank and everything that matters, everything that is, is his Sentinel.
His knees finally give out, the bonding heat fully kicking in, when Bond is kissing his wrist, hot tongue resting against Q's pulse. He catches the Guide instantly.
"Bedr'm... Told you—" Q murmurs apologetically when Sentinel takes him into his arms. Q clings to him desperately, opening Bond's shirt wider and pressing messy kisses to his collarbone. "I need y'— More—"
Bond puts him gently on the bed and straddles his hips straightaway. There's a shirt still remaining on quartermaster's chest and now Sentinel rips it impatiently and throws the cloth blindly to the side. He leans in and buries his nose into Guide's neck, taking in his scent once again. He groans when Q entangles his fingers with short blond hair and keeps them there as Bond makes a path of kisses and teasing bites across the younger man's chest.
When agent's mouth reaches Q's hip, Guide pulls him back and attacks his lips with another heated kiss. His hands slide from Sentinel's hair to his shoulders and tries to get the other man out of his ragged clothes. Bond removes his torn jacket and shirt with few quick motions and then lies down again. They moan in unison as the skin of their uncovered chests meet. Q can't suppress the thrust of his hips and their erections rub through the layers of fabric.
Bond's teeth sink once again in Guide's skin, but this time on the other side, on the shoulder. Q shudders under him.
"Yes— Mark me, I'm yours."
"Mine, mine, mine..." Bond repeats like an incantation, first and only word he manages to say since the bonding started. Eagerly, Q starts unzipping Sentinel's trousers and swiftly Bond mimics his actions. When they're both entirely naked, agent's lips find its way to Guide's thigh. He leaves another mark there, letting out predatory growl muted against the bruised skin.
When Bond's mouth closes on Q's cock, he grasps handful of sheet as his hands clenches under the new wave of pleasure. Sentinel notes every little reaction that the younger man gives, every whimper and thrust of hips and instantly employs his freshly obtained knowledge to draw complete acquiescence in Q.
As Bond's finger starts to teasingly encircle around Q's opening, Guide copes to trigger his mind to create a coherent thought. "Lube. Drawer." His hand stretches up to point at the bedside table. Sentinel continues sucking for another couple of seconds before he lifts himself and moves to fetch the lubricant. One of his hands stays entangled with Q's fingers. They can't fully part even for a second now. Agent fishes out the bottle and comes back hastily onto the bed.
Q clings to him the moment the other man is in reach again. Bonding heat is making him dizzy and his mind centred only on the Sentinel. His Sentinel.
Once coated in lube, calloused fingers begin to stretch him slowly while Bond's mouth explores more of quartermaster's body. In a few days, Sentinel will know by heart the taste and texture of every millimetre of his Guide's skin, the sound of blood running in his veins, smell of his hair and the exact pace of his breathing while sleeping, working at his laptop, drinking his tea, climaxing. There would be no one else in the world to know Q that well and no one else Q would allow it to such extent.
He enters Guide's body in a measured motion, kissing his lips possessively. They try to savour every moment of this ultimate connection; it's not only carnal union, but the fulfilling moment of forming their bond. Bond swiftly sets up a pace that makes Q sink his nails into Sentinels muscular back. When they're both too close, he slows down and gets an impatient groan and two new scratches on his skin as a response. He answers with another bite to the Guide's neck and then elevates his lover to the sitting position. Q moans loudly when Bond's cock fills him fully once he's posed on Sentinel's lap.
"My Sentinel," he manages to articulate between quickened breaths and muffled moans.
"My Guide," Bond replies against pale sweated shoulder.
As their orgasm hits simultaneously, their minds turn blank and for a moment whole world explodes in white.
Awakening comes gradually as they're lying tightly embracing each other. Coming back to consciousness is like no other feeling they have ever experienced. From now on, they're one. Their souls are a unity, their minds start to intermingle in the most unique way known to any beings. They are still panting, their senses out of focus, but they can feel their hearts beating out the same rhythm.
It's done. Nothing and no one will separate them now.
Received: Today, 6:28 am
FROM: Q;
TO: M;
SUBJECT: change of status
Bond, James
007
Agent /active
Sentinel
Change of status to BONDED
[Classified]
Q
Head of Q-Branch
Guide
Change of status to BONDED
PS: e-mail contact with Q-Branch will be maintained throughout the period of obligatory post-bonding leave of absence.
Message came directly to him, without any go-betweens. Q knew it is too crucial information to fall into hands of wrong person.
M sits in his chair and stares at the message from the Quartermaster as his freshly brewed coffee is getting cold. Q made sure it will be the first e-mail he would come across when he turns his computer on.
Sentinel honestly hates to admit of feeling at loss, but this is exactly what is happening now.
There is possibility of breaking the bond within the first hours of bonding. But would he dare to try?
Priorities in both Bond and Q shifted permanently, Queen and Country will always be on the second place from now on, right after the bond and their partner (and Mallory knows that from his own experience).
Bond is irreversibly broken man and extremely dangerous Sentinel. And no one knows what level Q's Guide abilities will reach once he's bonded; and he can be lethal without them, access to a computer is enough. M hates to admit it, but now they are automatically becoming a liability – especially regarding the fact that their compatibility had met with deprecation from MI-6 from the very beginning.
Alpha Sentinel Mallory would do almost anything to have this duo on the right side.
What cards does he need to play now in order not to turn this quandary into pointless instinct-driven carnage?
