Gareth Mallory, the head of MI6 and with it privy to more secrets than he had ever thought could truly exist within the organization, had only been mildly disturbed by Q's request for an appointment. The head of Q branch rarely sought out his superior outside of meetings.

Now he had.

M took it seriously and had made room for his quartermaster.

As the new M, Mallory had been briefed extensively on matters not even the committee knew about and never would. One was Bond's status as a preternatural. Not really a big surprise. He had suspected that the man was a bit more than human, but he never would, in his wildest dreams, have come even close to the truth.

Phoenix.

Back then he had almost cursed out loud. As it was, he had gone through some choice words in his head.

Of course 007 had to be something rare and barely documented. He had to be a vicious bird of prey. A terrifying darkness that destroyed itself with every rebirth and was as uncontrollable as it was lethal. A perfect weapon when controlled, an unstoppable predator when let lose.

It explained so much and it gave him even more to think about. His predecessor had known, as had Tanner. She had guided the man, had tried to find him the balance he needed, and she had failed. M had had to watch him decline, had had to witness his descent until only one solution would bring him peace.

Mallory knew that another solution had been found and that had come from a most unlikely source: the new head of Q branch.

The new department head was younger than his predecessor. He also wasn't former military, held no rank, and he was a clear confession to the new world of terrorism and spies: cyber technology. Q was a hacker, clean and simple. One of the very best.

Mallory had had his doubts when he had been appointed by the former M. Younger than most of the senior staff, brilliant in many fields, acing whatever had been thrown at him throughout evaluations – and there had been plenty – and cool under pressure. This man knew what he could do

It was astounding. It was mind-numbing. It was a nightmare all on its own. Q was not only the perfect balance to a phoenix, who would probably have gone completely feral after its next rebirth, he was also a technopath. Something else only the head of MI6 and their Chief of Staff knew. Another lost soul, tethering on the edge, looking for an anchor.

Q and Bond. A match made in hell.

And an asset.

007 was back. His physical condition had improved to a level that almost surpassed his prior physicals from the day he had entered the service. His shooting range results were top notch. He was one hundred percent efficient again and his field work was flawless.

Because of Q.

Q looked as neutral as always, very controlled, very professional, dressed as always in his vintage hipster look. He made it work and those who had at first judged him on sight had learned their lesson. Q wasn't to be underestimated.

Half an hour later, Mallory tried to digest the news.

He had known that the connection went a lot deeper than mere anchoring. There was no open display of affection, aside from Bond's continued presence in Q branch when he was between assignments. But the emotions were there.

Unspoken. Not on display. Just there.

He smiled a little to himself.

He wouldn't have believed that one himself either if anyone had told him, but he had kept tracks on the two men in his own way and he knew. It was very subtle. It was not like a normal relationship. It was just what a preternatural like Bond would do.

Mallory had no qualms about supporting this kind of relationship amongst his men. He had yet to think of a downside to the partnership. Q kept Bond human. What more could he ask for? The phoenix was an efficient killer and MI6 used that talent for their own purposes. Q made 007 manageable, was his handler, and Bond followed his directions more than any other orders.

No, Mallory wasn't averse to that relationship.

He didn't care whether they had a work relationship, a private, more intimate one, or despised themselves to the bone. He didn't care if they went about it like bunnies or Vulcan style – though considering who James Bond was, Vulcan style was surely not his thing.

He almost laughed at his own thoughts.

No, he didn't care. Bond was his best agent, Q a very efficient quartermaster who held the respect of all Double-Ohs, without exception – a quite astounding development for someone so young.

He didn't regret it either.

He had followed the former M's lead, even after her demise, and he had seen the good that had come from it.

Bond was still a nightmare, but a truly efficient operative.

Even if the serrated edges were still there.

Those rough, gritty and very sharp edges were Bond. It was the preternatural, the phoenix. It was just the surface of what he was and aside from Q, no one had probably ever seen the true nature of the beast.

And now this.

"How serious is this, Q?" he asked, hands clasped behind his back, looking out the window.

It was actually quite a nice day outside. Calm breeze, a few clouds in the distance heralding more rain to come, but still sunny at this time of the day.

"I believe it is under control, sir," the younger man replied calmly.

"Do you?" M glanced at him.

Yes, Q looked very calm, very controlled. An epitome of it, actually. M was always astounded just how collected the quartermaster was under all kinds of pressure, private or work.

Like right now.

"Yes," was the even reply.

"How much will it affect either of you?"

"Not at all, sir."

M's narrowed eyes didn't faze the other man. Q simply met his doubtful gaze.

"007 went almost primal," Mallory listed. "He stalked you. He became possessive, close to threatening other people, maybe even worse."

"He was. He no longer is."

"You can't tell from one night, Q."

"No, I can't. I can only surmise that it is over, sir," Q answered neutrally. "His condition was due to the very violent and never-before experienced fully physical recovery after getting shot in the head twice and then burned."

M winced slightly. He knew that report inside out.

"The phoenix pulled a lot of energy," Q went on like this was nothing but a simple narration. "It didn't disperse it all throughout the resurrection or afterwards. His latest brush with death had this unfortunate side-effect."

"And next time?"

Q shrugged a little. "I don't know."

M sighed, turning to look at his quartermaster. "I want there to be a reevaluation."

"Sir?"

"Of the two of you."

Q frowned slightly. "Both of us?"

"You're his handler. Actually, the only one he fully accepts and respects. And you are bonded to him, Q. I know you can work under pressure, already have. What I want to make sure of is that he is able to as well."

"I assure you, he is. 007 is perfectly capable of surviving under pressure."

He smiled humorlessly. "Let someone else be the judge of that."

Q looked affronted, but he finally nodded briskly. "How?"

"We have several training facilities, one up in Scotland. I believe we can schedule a few days of evaluation and training. For both of you. I'll let you know."

It was as good as a dismissal and Q took it as such. He simply nodded and left, shoulders a little too rigid, speaking of his slight anger.

M didn't care. He needed a reevaluation of his best agent, as well as the only handler this agent would ever accept.

X XX x

When Gareth Mallory had become head of MI6 he knew he would 'inherit' the nightmare that was James Bond, 007, as well. He had seen the man at his worst – maybe not the worst, he was sure the agent could be much, much more aggravating or close to the edge mentally – and he had seen his performance at the hearing. That moment had actually been the turning point for his view of 007. That man, in that moment, had been a different agent than the one walking into the old M's office, unshaven, dressed in a tailored suit, looking tired and almost broken.

Something had happened in that time, something had let him fight back again, even though Mallory hadn't known just what it had been.

Today he knew a lot more about who and what James Bond truly was.

Nightmare was a too mild a word for it, he mused, eyes on the Thames.

Mallory preferred this office to the one he had at MI6. For one: windows. He had a view. MI6 was located mostly in an underground bunker. Yes, there were the representative offices in a new, highly secure building, located conveniently in the middle of bustling London. Everything else, though, was underground.

Mallory poured himself a glass of scotch and sipped at it.

MI6 didn't employ all that many supernaturals or preternaturals. He had met a few in his time, but never something this dark.

He could count himself lucky that Bond was on their side.

He would contact their training site in Scotland personally, make sure that Bond and Q would be the only ones there at the time.

Hopefully they would leave the place standing.

x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX x X XX xx X XX xxx x X XX xx X XX

London in mid-March was a cold but sunny affair. Q enjoyed his lunch breaks outside, if he could. There were some small coffee shops or take-out joints nearby, or he sometimes brought his own lunch and just went to sit on a bench, watch people.

He was never outside the MI6 mainframe. His brain remained firmly logged in, monitoring just in case. He wasn't obsessive this way. It was a precautionary method, both to avoid unwanted surprises at work and to keep himself from sliding off into something else around him.

Like smartphones, tablets, CCTV, or a simple electronic signal from a car alarm.

After his appointment with M, Q had gone to the coffee shop he preferred, a small, independent one that was owned by a young couple who baked all their own bread, pastries and cakes. It was a favorite with many MI6 employees and he knew of at least two of his underlings who regularly ordered the small assortment of pastries always available in the tiny kitchen area of Q branch.

Q nodded at the student working today, ordered a sandwich and the special from the sweet section, then took everything outside to enjoy the sun.

He wasn't surprised to find Bond already waiting for him close by, his own choice of meal spread out.

"Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Bond," Q remarked as he twisted the cap off his bottled water.

"Life is a series of coincidences," was the reply.

Q chuckled. It sounded like a bad spy movie meeting.

"I thought you would already be off to enjoy your downtime."

"I am."

Q batted the curious, thieving fingers away from his pastry. "Get your own."

Bond smirked and sipped his coffee. "Speaking of downtime, any plans for tonight?"

"Why, Mr. Bond, is that a proposal for a date?"

"Well, Mr. Whittmore, I think it just might be."

Q broke the pastry in half and handed one over to his agent. "I believe my calendar shows some free time tonight."

Bond grinned as he took the offering. "It's a date then." He rose, all fluid grace and lean lines.

Q watched him go, telling himself that no, he wasn't admiring the sleek cut of that dark gray suit, how it accentuated certain assets of the preternatural very nicely.

No, he was a professional.

And he had known this man long enough, seen him in and out of those hideously expensive suits, had had his hands all over that enticing arse…

Bloody hell, he thought darkly as he caught himself admiring just that asset before Bond disappeared in the crowd.

I'm such a goner.

tbc...