Q's mind accessed whatever he wanted it to. It always felt strange at first to be right in the middle of a machine so completely. It was like looking at a Heads-Up-Display. All the functions were there for him to see and he could reach out and with thoughts like keystrokes he hacked what he wanted.
The HUD was the interface between the world of the web and himself. It was his nexus, the one point from where he could move into every direction.
It was always there, running in the back of his head, like being wi-fi'd into it all. Q usually kept away from the HUD. He didn't need it all the time and like the years before the anchor he was careful where he stepped. He had only made it to this day because he didn't take risks.
Now he was going through the beta of his own creation. He would bring the system online soon.
He was doing fine and he felt no compulsion to slide along wiring into the complex networks all around him or explore the multitude of technological devices and machines everywhere.
Still, he was tired. And slightly headachy.
Something tickled his senses and he turned inside the virtual interface. Something was there and it gave off signals that were so unlike anything he had felt before in this environment, it was… interesting.
Q moved, shutting the security HUD behind him to keep whatever it was out of there.
He almost laughed when he discovered what it was.
The virus. Silva's little monster. He had isolated it and stored the whole laptop in a separate area to look at the fascinating construction another time. So far, MI6's recovery had been on the top of everyone's list and Q had shoved such pet projects on the back burner.
M would want to know how Silva had truly done it, but so far it was safety first.
Looking at the virus, Q was fascinated. He had never looked at it from a technopathic point of view and he would be mad if he were to attempt to run an analysis technopathically. He wasn't suicidal.
Still, from the outside… It was like looking at a beautifully woven rug. Intricate patterns with silky strings of different colors, together forming a whole. This pattern was moving, ever-changing, but still it made so much sense! He watched it, felt it whisper to him, and when he thought about tracking something particular interesting, his senses seemed to shift naturally to follow this interest.
Coding. There was coding, and program lines, and data clusters. He could touch them and look at them, he could reach out and work with them as if everything was physical.
Q was breathless with what he could see and took a step closer. And another step. It was so easy to leave the HUD and walk along almost invisible lines, carefully picking his path around trip wires and security. Q explored. The hacker program was like a dark cloud hovering above him, a hungry predator ready to strike. One false step in the wrong direction and he would be prey, but he was following an easy to navigate path along the signals.
The closer he got, the more powerful the interferences became.
And then there it was. It was like stepping into a room of light. There was no source for this light; it was just all around him. There was also no door or other opening. He was just there, in the middle of nowhere and yet still somewhere.
Above him the dark cloud boiled, the virus program detecting the intruder, but not yet fully triggered.
"Q."
The only human sound in this world. Calm and cool and dark. He looked around and found another darkness not far away, smooth and silky and promising. A fire burned within the ice, dangerous and volatile and very, very lethal.
Bond?
Q wasn't sure he had spoken the name out loud, but the inky nothingness rippled.
::Bond…::
"Q!"
The strong, ferocious presence was there, inserting itself neatly between Q and the opening access points of the virus. Wings that weren't wings spread, obscuring the electronic world, protective and aggressive in one. Bright blue pinpricks burned within the wings.
Q took a deep, shuddering breath.
And then there was a human touch.
Calloused hands, brushing over his arms.
A physical presence so overpowering it took him out of the interface by just being there.
Sharp claws cradled him gently, pulling him closer.
The darkness roiled around him, closing him off from the tempting whispers of the cyberworld. The touch was everywhere. He looked into the pale blue eyes that were his anchor, the one sight he always saw when things got a little dicey technopathically.
"007," he managed.
A small crinkle of a smile appeared on Bond's lips. "Q."
He was slightly off-kilter and blurry-visioned.
Those lethal fingers brushed over his cheek, then carded into his hair. Gentle. So very gentle. Those hands handled guns, knives and explosives. They were weapons, they had killed, had broken necks.
The touch was real, grounding. It was deeper than skin on skin. It seeped into his very cells and was more than any other human being could give him.
Q started to tremble involuntarily. His body was shaking and he couldn't seem to stop it.
He drew a deep breath.
When had Bond gotten here?
Q almost laughed at that thought. It had been the first on his mind. Not the virus' lure, not the beta test. Not how his agent had found him, but when he had come to his office.
"I'm perfectly fine," he tried for normalcy.
The wintery eyes narrowed.
"I just got a little distracted," Q added almost defensively.
"A little, Q?"
He huffed. "Okay, a little more than I should have. But I'm fine."
Except that the pounding in his head begged to differ. It was right behind his eyes, in synch with his heartbeat.
Bond brushed gentle knuckles over his left temple. The phoenix was an overpowering preternatural, so strong and dark in its nature, so violent and ruthless, but right now it wasn't any of that. Q wanted to lean into the caress, wanted to lean against the strong, hard body.
He fought that notion. He wasn't weak. He wasn't needy!
"You are far from fine," the agent said in a low voice. It was a growl that had the younger man yearn for the touch even more.
Q felt the headache increase as anger coursed through him at his thoughts.
"What did you do, Q?"
"Nothing."
"Q."
He summoned a glare, but Bond wasn't fazed. He simply looked at him, those eyes so intense, they made Q shiver.
"I got side-tracked," he finally growled.
"From what to where?"
Damn the man!
"Beta testing the new security network."
It got Q a raised eyebrow and a 'do go on' look. He glared some more.
"Silva's virus."
Bond's eyes narrowed and Q almost felt the phoenix rise, the dark shadow like a physical being looming over him. They were so close, James' presence was everywhere. The anchor was firmly established.
"What?" he asked.
It was just one word, but low and dangerous and filled with anger.
"I said I was side-tracked by Silva's virus!" Q snapped, the headache fueling his anger. "I wasn't accessing it! I merely looked at it, Bond!"
The wintery eyes were glacial. You could freeze a volcano with that expression. Q met that look with a cool one of his own. He wasn't intimated or terrified. He had never been afraid of this man who knew endless ways of torture and death.
Q wasn't like his underlings or some of the other employees of MI6. He didn't cow from any agent, be it a Double-Oh or anyone else. He was the head of Q branch and as such not easily intimidated. His immediate superior was M; not Tanner, not anyone else. M. And he had gone up against 007's stubbornness even before they had connected on a very different level.
So yes, he knew how to handle those looks. Even with a headache, with feeling not on top of his game, with being a few IQ points short.
"I can do this, Bond," he told the other man firmly. "I just need time to adjust to my abilities again."
"It didn't look like you were."
Q's eyes narrowed. "How can you tell?" he challenged furiously. "You're not a technopath."
"No, just anchoring one," was the even reply. "And you looked like I had to call Medical."
He glared.
Bond looked at him with that firm expression that told him that he wouldn't win this one.
"I wasn't in any danger," Q growled. "It's like back when I first realized what I was." He ran a still shaking – damnit! – hand through his hair. "Back then I was distracted by a simple toaster or a microwave."
"I hate to break it to you, but this is hardly a toaster," Bond said dryly.
"Really, 007?"
"Really," was the dead-pan reply.
"Well, good. I was afraid I was the only one who had noticed," Q hissed.
Bond suddenly stepped back and Q found himself missing the closeness, felt more exposed and vulnerable and the headache was increasing. The cool darkness was there, inserting itself neatly between him and the pain, but it wasn't fully blocking the discomfort.
"You should get some rest, Q."
"I have work to do."
"Q, do it."
"You're not my boss, 007!"
"No, just your anchor. And if that doesn't help, let's call it friends with mutual benefits?"
It was like dousing him in cold water and Q blinked. Good god. "We're not…" he blurted, then stopped himself angrily.
Bond just looked at him with those pale eyes. Expectant. Patient. Waiting.
"We're not that," Q finally said, emotions in upheaval.
"No, we're not," Bond agreed. "So: please?"
The rough words cut through the anger and Q blinked.
Worried. Bond was worried.
Strong fingers curled around one wrist, squeezing a little.
"You are not weak, Q. You are the strongest man I know. Your abilities are there and you can use them, but you can't get lost. Not on my watch."
He blinked again, fighting for words, for composure. The wintery eyes were brilliant, almost glowing, his only fix point when he was inside the network, and now the touch was there, too. Grounding him so completely, the headache was gone.
They were so close and Q panicked for a moment, reaching out to the security system, trying to see if they were being seen.
Bond placed his fingertips against his quartermaster's temple, gentle pressure against his head.
Q stared at him.
He received a half-smile in return. "I'm a quick study when it comes to my handler."
The handler in question drew a shuddering breath. Q was overwhelmed by the emotions rushing through him.
And then Bond pulled back.
The spell was broken.
Bond was gone like a phantom and Q leaned against the wall, confused, the headache coming back with painful little pulses.