Two hours later Mallory watched the two men depart. He felt a faint headache coming up.
The debrief had been… interesting. No one would have been able to come up with this scenario.
Bond had always been an extraordinary man, a unique preternatural, but this… this topped everything.
"He's either our greatest liability or our greatest weapon," he said, pouring himself a tumbler of scotch.
"I'd say our most dangerous weapon."
He glanced at Bill Tanner, then held out the tumbler. The Chief of Staff took it.
"He's a weapon," Tanner repeated, regarding his boss. "His preternatural side makes him the perfect one on top of that."
M knew that. The perfect killer. The perfect assassin. The perfect tool to be used. And Q was this weapon's balance, control and his handler. He had known from the start that this wouldn't end with their connection. It had been the beginning and now evolution had caught up with them in a big way.
"He came back from the ashes," Mallory remarked and sipped at the burning liquid.
Tanner looked slightly uncomfortable, but his expression was accepting. "It's his ability."
M shot him a wry look. "Don't tell me you expected him to be able to pull himself together after this. 007 nearly got lost after less severe injuries."
"He has a connection to his own anchor now," Tanner reminded him. "No one expected it to work like it did, but we're lucky it does."
M studied the world outside, Buckingham Palace, the Thames, Big Ben. Yes, they were lucky. The two men had found a much more intimate, much closer, connection through their personal lives entwining as well. Knowing Bond's file, knowing Q's, Mallory wouldn't have given the two men a snowball's chance in hell at making it more than three months. They were too different.
But apparently not.
He smiled humorlessly.
No, maybe they weren't that different. And maybe it was too easy to slot them into places they didn't belong in.
He had given them two weeks to get back from this, to work through the trauma.
"Let's see where we stand with him, with them, in two weeks time," he said almost to himself.
Tanner grimaced and swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler. "He won't be any different, sir. I've known 007 for longer than I'd confess to. He's a tough old dog and for a long time I didn't know, couldn't understand, how he withstood such abuse, mentally and physically. When I was told he is a phoenix, it became so much clearer. He won't have changed, sir. He will be the same."
"Aside from looking… like he had a full retread at some bloody spa."
Tanner chuckled. "Aside from that. There will be rumors. There always are. Let them happen."
Mallory raised an eyebrow. "Would I even have a chance if I fought it?"
"I doubt it, sir."
So did M.
He would let it happen.
x X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X
Q knew that asking James to see a psychologist or anyone in that profession, the agent would just close that particular door and never talk about it again. But he had been through more than ever before.
Q was there when Bond got up in the middle of the night, tossed back a drink or two, staring out the windows and seeing nothing but those returning images of the horror he had been through, trying to make sense of the emotional response he felt.
He refused to talk about it.
Well, so be it. Q wasn't the nagging part in this relationship. He was the quartermaster and handler if they were on the job, and he was everything but that when they weren't. He wouldn't tell Bond what to do and who to see because he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.
So it came as a surprise when he found a siren standing in front of his flat. Ann was a tall, strawberry blonde woman with curly hair, one of MI6's interrogators. Q had seen her a few times, but they had never worked together professionally and they had never met officially.
Ann's profession as an interrogator was also called a confessor because as a siren it was very hard to resist her. Suspects would spill their guts, confess to their sins, if she got into their heads. Her voice would drop into that strange lilt, a sing-song undercurrent that wormed itself into the suspect's brain. There were few who could resist a siren who used her abilities on a suspect.
Q knew that Bond was one of them. He wondered if it was a preternatural thing or because of what kind of preternatural he was. He wondered if she could influence him or not.
"Ann," he greeted her courteously. "What can I do for you."
She regarded him with a smile. "Q. I apologize in advance for coming to see you on your vacation."
He shrugged, then looked around. "Have you had lunch?" he offered.
"No."
"How about we grab a bite to eat then?"
Because he didn't want her up in the flat. It was his private home. It was his and James' place. No one else.
Ann smiled and agreed. They found a pub with a good lunch menu and ordered soups and sandwiches.
"May I inquire as to why you came to see me?" Q wanted to know.
She folded her hands. "007 approached me."
He tilted his head a little.
"We talked," she added.
"I have no doubt you did."
And if he had decided to go a step further it must have been for a reason, Q told himself. He had never felt jealousy when James was on the job, though he didn't linger and listen like a voyeur when 007 took his marks to bed.
Ann laughed. "Oh no, nothing like that. But I doubt I have to tell you how impossible it would be to sway him from your connection."
Q raised his eyebrows. He didn't say a thing as just about then their food arrived. They waited until the waiter was out of ear shot.
"I'm not a fool, Q. Not many at MI6 are. Some see your relationship, some think it's a ruse, and very few know it's so much more."
He was silent.
"Bond came to me to talk about what happened to him. I know what he is. I will keep it in confidence."
He studied her, refusing to fall into any kind of trap that would get him to spill it out in clear and simple words. So far Ann hadn't really given away anything concrete.
"Why are you talking to me then?"
"Because what happened to him left 007 with an unprecedented case of fractured memories that are by now coalescing into a full recollection. You might know that I can't influence him, and let me reassure you, I can't get into your mind either, Q."
He raised an eyebrow. She smiled brightly at him.
"So you tried."
"About five times in the last thirty minutes."
"Interesting."
"Bond's mind is a steel ball. His preternatural side refuses to be influenced or manipulated. I bounce back, so to speak. You have… a similar reaction. A bit more muted, not as aggressive, but there is nothing I can force you to do."
Q mulled that over.
"I suspect you are a preternatural as well," Ann went on, eating some chips that had come with the sandwich. "I don't want to know what kind. What I do know is that you mean a lot to 007, that he trusts you, that he needs you."
"He talked to you."
The siren smiled again. "Since I don't take you for the jealous type I'll interpret that as a question as to the why. He's trying to make sense of what happened. He needs someone to talk about some of those things, someone who isn't close to him. And someone he can trust to keep his confidence, not write it down and file it away."
"You."
"You might want to look into my file, Q."
He already had. It had been a matter of minutes in that last half hour and he had discovered that Ann Jennings, twenty-nine, born in Manchester, had a degree in psychology. She wasn't just employed as an interrogator, but she was also deployed as a, for lack of a better word, sounding board if Double-Ohs needed to unwind. She never took any notes. She never filed a report. She was simply there, had an open ear.
A confessor of a different kind.
Her smile widened. "Of course you already know," she stated.
"I thought you couldn't get into my head."
"I can't. But I'm good at reading people, Q. I have to be. You know what I do, who I am."
"I know your current persona," he corrected her mildly.
"And if you dig deep enough you can find out who I really am." She cocked her head a little. "It's a matter of trust among colleagues. You, him, me. 007 is a man of many, many layers and aside from you, I doubt anyone knows them all. What happened to him, Q, was terrible. It was the worst a preternatural like him can experience. And knowing the myth I wouldn't have placed any bets on his survival. But he did survive and he pulled himself back out of the abyss. He remembers the abyss."
Q felt a tremor run through him.
"And he needed a different perspective. What he does on a daily basis for his country pales in comparison," Ann went on. "I came because I know you are needed. I know you have to understand that the darkness within him has only one reason to still hang on to its sanity: you. You are his balance and his anchor and he needs you."
"I know that already," he told her evenly.
"Of course you do. But do you understand what you are, Q? Do you understand the damage that has been done to him and what he survived to come back as human as he is? Do you understand just how savage the pull was this time?"
He swallowed.
Ann's expression was no longer amused or soft. Her eyes were intense, her posture serious.
"You brought him back."
"His abilities did."
"You anchor them. You felt it. He's lodged deeply within you, Q. Unbreakable."
Yes, he knew that. Yes, yes, yes. All of it.
"The confidence I keep concerns MI6," she added. "Not the bonded partner, because what he is, you are, and vice versa. Your lives are interwoven so strongly, he latches on to you to pull himself out of the darkness. You felt it. You let him."
Q leaned back, throat dry, feeling shaky. "How can you know?" he whispered harshly.
"Because he knows. He remembers."
Blood rushed in his ears, his heart hammered in his chest. "He…?"
"He remembers you. He told me he followed you, the link to you, to get back. He went through the resurrection consciously. He felt you, Q. And he's trying to come to terms with that."
"But…" Q felt cold all of a sudden.
She leaned forward, gentle fingers touching his hand. "What he is… no one has known before existed for real. What you are is unimportant, only that you are the most important thing in his life. You bring him back, Q. You. He knows you intimately in that darkness. His preternatural is a vicious beast and it answers to you. It will always find you."
Q balled his hands into fists, fighting down the irrational fear.
"He will tell you. In his own way. I suspect he knows we talked already. He never asked me to keep this from you, only to give him time to come to terms with it," Ann added. "I told him that he has to open up that part of himself, has to let you in to understand. He agreed to let me decide whether or not I would talk to you, Q. I made my decision because you two have to work this out. Bond has to get through this. With you."
He didn't feel hungry any more. The sandwich was like a concrete block inside his stomach.
He remembered. James remembered. He had gone through the most traumatic, insane resurrection and he remembered…
"How can he even stay sane like this?" he whispered.
"The phoenix is a primordial, dark creature. The reason why we don't know about many more is their self-destruction after a while. They can't live alone. Finding a balancing partner is not easy. Many see it as a fantastic fire bird, others as a nightmarish monster. And because of what it is, because of what Bond is, none of his past, and future, deaths will drive him into insanity. Only the loss of his anchor would."
Ann squeezed his wrist, then pulled back with a soft smile.
"You. Only you. He followed your call, your presence. That's how it is now. He relies fully on you and this first time truly disturbed him. You don't really understand how deep this goes, do you?"
"No one can understand something that is unprecedented," he replied, fighting for distance.
Ann agreed with a nod. "Bond told me that you two have some time off from work. I'd advise you take this time and go somewhere. Away from here."
"And talk?" he asked sarcastically.
Because Bond wasn't a great talker. That he had made an appointment with the siren was amazing in so many ways.
She laughed softly. "I doubt you two are going to spill your souls to one another. And I doubt it's necessary. Like I said, there are layers. Bond is far more receptive to this connection between you than he wants to confess or even understand. What I would recommend is that you get out of here because you need a different kind of scenery. He has to work through something akin to a maelstrom of dark memories. He has to be somewhere where he can let go, Q. And that isn't here."
Ann signaled that she wanted to pay and Q dug out his wallet as well. They were out of the pub not much later, strolling through the streets. When they arrived at the Thames, the siren leaned against the stone banister.
"You two are very special, Q. I can see it when you work together. You mean the world to him."
He refused to be baited. Deep inside he knew that they were into this to the end.
"I can see it in you when he is on a mission," she added. "You are so very good together. I wanted you to hear this from a third person, someone without an interest in you in any way."
He grimaced and she chuckled.
"Not that you wouldn't be a catch for anyone else, too." Ann smiled. "Find some place," she repeated. "Go there. Let him work on achieving his balance again. He isn't human and his mind isn't in any danger, Q. His preternatural side enables him to compartmentalize and accept the resurrection and everything with it. He won't lose it over this. I'm sure of it."
"Because of that steel ball?"
She lifted a corner of her mouth. "Maybe. But I think it's his nature. We are equipped to deal what our abilities give us. What I do has its backlashes as well, Q. I see more than I really want to, but it doesn't bother me. I'm not completely human and my brain can work through this."
Like he was a technopath and could work inside an electronic environment without turning insane. He could do it naturally and his mind was equipped to handle whatever was thrown at it. He might get headaches when he overdid it, but he didn't get nightmares either.
Q nodded. "I think I understand."
"I think you do. Now go home. Get time away from here."
"Thank you, Ann."
"You're welcome."
She turned and walked away from him, soon disappearing in the crowd. Q went home, taking the long route, mulling over what he had heard.
x X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX x XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X XX xxx xx X XX xx X
"She talked to you."
Of course Bond would know. Either because he had trailed Q, which Q wouldn't put past him, or because it was just something he had known would happen.
Probably the latter.
Ann had mentioned it, too.
"Yes, she did. And I'm happy you talked to her." Q hung up his coat.
"Better than Hall."
"Dr. Hall is a professional."
"Professional pain the arse," Bond growled.
"He's a certified psychologist."
Bond scowled. Q smiled back and walked into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Bond leaned in the doorway, watching him, all lean lines and understated danger.
"She's a confessor. I thought I'd see if she'd keep her word."
"She has. Nothing you told her will go on record. She also seems to know quite a lot about your preternatural status."
An almost careless shrug answered him. "Like you said: she won't put it on record. And if she does, I suspect you can erase any trace."
"Of course," Q replied, a touch of haughtiness in his voice.
Bond's mouth curled in that small smile. "Of course."
They waited silently for the water to boil, then Q poured it over his tea bag and let the tea steep. Only when it was done and he removed the tea bag and carried the mug outside did Bond move. They ended up on the couch again.
"You remember," the technopath said neutrally.
Bond's eyes grew a little distant, harder. "Yeah."
"All of it."
A sharp nod.
"And you think I brought you back?" Q tried, treading carefully.
The expression was almost frightening. It was so intense, so animalistic, so much the primal thing in James' soul, and still so very much James himself.
"You did. I knew you were there. I… pulled from you, pulled myself to you."
Q sat stunned. He remembered the sudden displacement he had felt, like he had been close to a collapse, low blood pressure, low blood sugar, something like that. It had been a moment, nothing serious, nothing that couldn't be attributed to stress.
"And you felt it," Bond said, voice low and somehow close to broken.
"I'm not sure…"
The eyes silenced him. Maybe it had been that moment. Maybe he had felt the phoenix's first breath, the launch of the preternatural in its battle against death.
"I know I felt you. You brought me back, Q."
He touched the strong, calloused hands, wrapped their fingers together. Bond came willingly when Q tugged a little, and suddenly he straddled the technopath's lap, looming over him, very intent, very intense, very… Bond.
There was nothing else to talk about. There was nothing to discuss regarding what had happened. Q would try and analyze what it meant, what could have happened, but somehow it didn't feel important. There was no reference material, there was no other known phoenix to compare James to. There was no other technopath either.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
He would make his notes in his laptop, he would put a few more locks on the machine, and he would keep an eye on matters, should it happen again.
tbc...