If this had been a movie or a book, some kind of adventure or romance novel, Q would have woken in the middle of the night, covered in sweat, blurting out Bond's name. He would have stared sightlessly at the white wall, trying to find a trace of his bonded partner, trying to pick up anything from the psychic link they shared.
But it wasn't a book or a movie.
And the connection didn't work that way.
Yes, he felt the phoenix in a way, as a solid fact of his life, of his very soul, but it was neither empathy nor telepathy. It was just there. Irremovable. A fact. Solid and real.
No, he didn't feel anything tear inside him, break apart only to rise and screech a challenge to death.
It was more like a sudden loss of blood pressure. It was the room moving while Q was standing still. It was like… like waking up with a fever and unable to function. All wrapped in a microsecond, all leaving him pale and with blown pupils, locking his knees, refusing to fall.
And of course it didn't happen at home; private, only him. It happened while he was talking to Tanner about… about…
He didn't know any more.
All Q knew was that he was forced into a chair, a glass of water was pushed into his hands, and Tanner was talking quietly in the background. Not to him; no, not to him.
M, his brain told him, piggy-backing on the call like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was. He was a bloody technopath. He could do this in his sleep.
They were in Tanner's office at MI6, private but no private enough for Q. No one else had been witness to his… breakdown? No, not a breakdown. This was something else.
"Q?"
The voice was sharp, commanding, drawing his attention away from his analysis of what had happened. Tanner stared at him, face set, hard, as commanding as his voice.
"What happened?"
"I don't know," he replied automatically.
"Then make an educated guess," was the order.
"007," he muttered.
Because there was… something wrong. Because the solid fact was no longer so present. Something had happened to Bond and it had been violent and sudden and probably fatal. Q had never experienced anything like it and only once before had he felt his partner's temporary death. That had been in New York and an insane werewolf had taken him out. The phoenix had recovered rather quickly and Q was still looking into that, confused and slightly terrified by the fact that Bond was resurrecting faster than before.
Before… before their bond had strengthened.
So much had happened.
"Q!" Fingers snapped sharply in front of his eyes.
He looked at Tanner, annoyance flitting through him, and from the humorless smile it was quite visible. It also had Tanner relax.
"M has been informed. We have his last location and are sending out a recon team. Just in case."
"He might not be there anymore."
"I'm quite aware of it. Any clue?"
"We're not telepathically linked," Q snapped, annoyance surging once more.
"I'm quite aware of that as well. I also know that you never reacted like this before, Q. Something happened and it was different to other times."
"He died, Tanner. That's all I know."
"Differently."
Q jerked a nod. He had no idea what else had happened. It had been different. It had been unprecedented.
In a way it worried him. And deep down inside it was… frightening as well.
x X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X
It didn't come as much of a surprise that there was no trace of 007 at the last known location, nor did anyone find anything that might tell them where he had gone off to. Talking to the locals was difficult. They were either too frightened or too indifferent to answer any questions, and the few who did answer couldn't be trusted. Or they knew nothing.
It didn't stop Q, though. He went into the system, searched through security feeds, satellite images, phone conversations and emails.
Nothing.
Well, close to nothing. He found traces of his partner, saw images of him, grainy and barely recognizable, but it was his agent. He knew it.
Until he walked into a warehouse building and disappeared. No one came out, no one else entered.
Q sat back, staring at the badly grained image, then sent his intel out to M.
x X XX
Ten hours later they got information back from the crew on location. There was a tunnel underneath the building, a whole maze, and that was where Bond had disappeared into.
And he had gone invisible.
x X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X
The knowledge that James had died still sat heavily in Q's soul. It was only the second time he had felt his partner perish, but back in New York it had been like a brief, sharp pull. Now it was this solid weight; not the familiar one that told him of their connection but the missing piece that was James Bond.
He was dead.
Still.
Q was more worried by that than the circumstances that had killed him.
Resurrection took its time, but not days. Never days. At least not before.
He went to work, performed his job as neat and professional as always, but he knew he was under close observation. Tanner kept coming into Q branch, which wasn't unusual, but the frequency of his visits was tell-tale.
The news that 007 was probably in a world of trouble had his underlings cast not-so-hidden looks at him. Some even offered to assist on one another's project, just to take some of the load off Q. It was admirable, it was strangely nice, but work helped.
Work and the firm knowledge that as a phoenix James Bond should be able to resurrect.
Should be able…
He squashed the very idea that something had happened that not even his phoenix could come back from.
What would have to happen to James' body to annihilate him completely? Q had never wanted to ponder that gruesome aspect of Bond's preternatural abilities.
Now he might have to.
Though right now he simply kept on hoping.
x x X XX
There was nothing accidental about the increased presence of Double-Ohs in Q branch. Or that Q's assistance was requested by those agents abroad.
004 was currently in Australia and her handler had patched her through when she ran into a tight corner concerning a delicate piece of hardware that was secured by a nifty piece of software.
001 was still at MI6 and awaiting a new mission, so he spent his time playing with Q branch's rifles and guns, showing Q a few tricks on the range.
Neither those two, nor any of the others, tried any kind of pep talk. The Double-Ohs knew the chances of survival were sometimes slim, even if Bond usually beat the odds. And they knew that Q was very invested in their health and survival, but was especially interested in Bond's
"Even if the rest of MI6 can't wrap their collective heads around it, we know you two are an item," 004 told Q one late evening as she shared a pizza with the quartermaster after her return.
She had come in like there was nothing strange about a beautiful, female agent playing delivery boy. 004 had set down the cardboard box, then pulled up a chair, kicked up her feet and started on her slice.
Q had been amused and touched.
"And hell, it's good for him. You're good for him," she went on. "What we are precludes any kind of normal life, Q. We know he tried. Heck, I tried. Didn't work." She didn't elaborate on it, but Q knew what she was getting at. He knew all Double-Ohs' files. "So you and him? Best for him, best for you."
"So you're saying I'm making him a better man?" he teased, face carefully blank.
004 broke out in laughter, eyes alight. "Maybe," she chuckled. "Maybe you really are. I know he's a tough old dog. He's the best there is and I've worked with him once. He's brilliant. Terrifying as well. We're all killers, but him?"
Q nodded. She might suspect he was a preternatural, but no one had a clue as to what kind. No one knew just how much death and violence was in his blood, his whole being, his very soul.
"If anyone can make it back, it's him," 004 added, then finished off another slice.
Yes, it would be Bond. Only him.
If it hadn't been for the sudden shift, for the sensation he had felt, he might not be so nervous about this time.
Something had been different. Something had happened.
x X XX
The Double-Ohs kept calling him, asking for help, though their own handlers would be perfectly capable of doing what Q was asked to do.
He didn't call them on it, even if he was aware of their plotting. It was… nice. It was a distraction, and sometimes the chats continued even after the initial task was over. He kept 002 company throughout a stake-out which yielded nothing come daylight, and 004 continued ordering take-out from Italo for him.
He was never not busy, until he went home.
x X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X
It persisted, this feeling of death and loss. It was with him 24/7 and whenever he was at home, alone, not occupied with work, he wondered if this was what would and could happen one day. If this was what it would be like if he ever lost…
Q pushed those thoughts out of his head, pushed himself into the net, spent the nights roaming around the world wide web, looking, hunting, searching. He concentrated on the last known location – Almaty, Kazakhstan – and set up his own search grid.
It helped. Work always helped.
Still… it also hurt.
He refused to give up. Q knew Bond wasn't dead. His partner was alive, was recovering somewhere. The phoenix was too hard to kill, too dark to perish like that. It clung to life with a fierceness that was unparalleled by anything else. Werewolves were hard to kill, just like vampires, but death was final for them. Not for the phoenix. It wasn't like any other preternatural.
M believed him and wouldn't declare 007 dead, just MIA. It had happened before and it would probably happen again.
If Bond was laying low, he had to have a reason. If he had been killed and was recovering, he was hiding until he was fit enough to be picked up.
Where are you? Q wondered, not for the first time. What happened to you? tbc...
