He hadn't been surprised when Finch called. It was close to midnight on a Friday and Q had been in the middle of trying to translate a text he had found on some obscure preternatural website. Five paragraphs in and he suspected it was another hilariously bogus report that held not a kernel of truth. There was a lot of embellishment on the phoenix and nothing was true.

Wings and flames and ashes and stuff. Good grief! he thought. This was closer to a fantasy novel out of ancient times than anything remotely related to what a phoenix really was.

He closed the file and pushed it into a folder reserved for the more crappy results, but which might one day still be needed.

"Mr. Finch," he greeted the caller, trying to push the image of James Bond with fiery wings out of his mind. His agent would find it hilariously funny.

"Mr. Whittmore," was the pleasant reply.

Q had to smile. "How are you doing?"

"Matters are returning to what could be described as normal, though since normalcy hasn't been part of my life in a very long time, I'm hardly one to judge."

He chuckled at that. "Yes, probably."

"How are you and Mr. Bond faring?"

"There have been no ill effects from the… experience."

Finch was silent for a moment. "Because your brain was made for this," he finally said.

Very astute, Q thought. "Yes. And because the connection between me and my anchor was never severed. It wasn't an attack. It was a plea for asylum and protection."

Finch's little snort was audible.

"Have the numbers come back?" the technopath asked.

"No."

"Do you expect them to?"

"I have no idea. None at all." Finch was audibly chewing on something. "Have you been… Have you touched The Machine… after… well, have you touched it lately?"

Q exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. "No. I haven't. I… couldn't… wouldn't take that chance. It tore down my walls, my best shields. I'm rather reluctant to go looking for it." He worried his lower lip. "Do you want me to?"

"No, not at all," Finch said quickly. "I was simply wondering."

And that was quite natural. This was Finch's creation and he had set it free. It made decisions independently now. It was up to The Machine to send new numbers or to never follow its original purpose ever again.

It was also only natural to assume Q had been curious after everything had finally normalized, more or less, and would take a look again. He could have safely viewed the powerful entity from within the HUD, but Q wasn't foolish enough to believe in safety. The HUD was nothing but a window and it would easily be shattered.

"I can take a look, Harold."

"Q, no. Not because of a curious request by me. Please."

He smiled dimly. "It is your creation. I would do you this favor."

"Don't. Again, please don't. I believe Mr. Bond would be quite upset if I endangered you."

"James is not controlling my life. I can make my own choices as I please."

That got him an amused snort and Q was aware his words had been an almost knee-jerk reaction.

"Of course you can. No offense, Q. I simply want to remind you of your life being connected to another."

"I am very much aware of that," he said stiffly.

"As am I. For me and for you things have changed. Our lives are no longer our own. We are part of someone else now."

Q was silent.

"It scares me, Q. Very much. I didn't plan to be involved this deeply with anyone else ever again. I didn't plan on getting close to someone I had chosen because of his skills, his background. I didn't plan on relying on a man who I had nothing in common with, who I only paid for services rendered, and who still became… a friend."

"No one can plan on that," the technopath said softly, understanding. These things happen, Harold. Suddenly. Quite unexpectedly. And in some cases they are orchestrated by a superior who believes it is in the best interest of two very reluctant parties."

It got him a chuckle. Finch had been told how Q and Bond had found each other by the quartermaster himself, right down to M's manipulations in the hopes that her best agent and her new quartermaster might find what they needed.

"Yes, sometimes," the cipher said. "Mr. Reese broke down my walls one by one without my being aware of it. I couldn't let him die when he was shot. I couldn't think of anyone else replacing him. I couldn't see anyone else working with me; ever."

Q smiled, though Finch couldn't see it.

"He was suddenly part of my life, part of me," Harold went on. "He once told someone that I was looking after him. That I took care of him. I never saw it that way. I thought of it as an equal partnership. I paid him as my operative, my asset, and he did what was necessary. He had the skills I lacked."

"But it didn't work out that way."

"No," was the quiet reply. "It didn't. He hasn't been a mere asset for a long time. And then he did the most unthinkable thing: he bonded himself to me. He gave his unwavering loyalty to a man who wasn't even like him. We aren't compatible."

"How do you know?"

Finch's laugh was weak, slightly derisive. "Because he is what he is, Q. Partners are chosen for strength and compatibility. I hardly qualify as a hellhound's partner. I know their history, the facts, that they are hunters and assassins. Their partners are, too. My only killer instinct is in the world of numbers and stocks. And after what happened, maybe Mr. Reese's decision to give his loyalty to me was premature."

Q blinked. "Where did that come from?"

"He accused me of pushing him away. I did. To protect him. I didn't want him to get captured or die because of my failings."

"I think that's a rather useless endeavor, considering who and what Mr. Reese is."

"Yes. That is the problem. He chose me as his counter-balance and our… furthering relationship has made him…" Finch stumbled over the words. "It has made him very fixated on my safety."

Q frowned. He knew Finch was working through something he had never consciously talked about before: the connection to Reese.

"And he hasn't been worried about your safety before?" he poked carefully.

"On occasion," was the reluctant answer. "But since we… since he bonded himself… since we became intimately knowledgeable of the other… It has increased. I believe the bond has changed some aspects, has pushed him into a place he wouldn't be without it."

The technopath nearly burst out laughing at the stiff description of their physical relationship.

"You are aware of the fact that hellhounds don't have to mate with their chosen partner, do you?" Q asked, voice light and trying to keep his amusement down.

"What?" Finch manages.

Q had researched hellhounds, sending the cipher what he had found, just like Finch had given him everything he had discovered about the phoenix. He had thought the other man had read the files. Or at least some parts of them. He had just told him he had, but apparently not the more intimate bits.

"The person a hellhound chooses to be loyal to is not automatically a sexual partner, Harold. It is the one person they trust without question. The one person who they think won't betray them. Mr. Reese was a Black Ops operative and he had to trust in the werewolf pack he ran with, as well as the handler who trained him. Before that he was a soldier. He didn't have a handler, only a commanding officer and a team. The wolf pack was a necessity to function as part of his new job, but he never placed his trust as fully into Snow or Stanton as he did in you. His trust is different from his more private interest in you. Handler vs. personal relationship."

"It was a business relationship," Finch said faintly, almost as if talking to himself.

"Which later evolved into something else. He gave himself to you, Harold. All of him. He won't ever bond to anyone else."

"I know that, Q," was the slightly sharper reply.

"It doesn't automatically mean a sexual relationship," Q repeated and drove his point home. "It means he won't betray you. It means he will always look for your lead."

Finch was silently, clearly shocked.

"As I said, hellhounds don't have to mate," the technopath went on. "There are enough examples out there of a cerberus with a husband or wife or life-partner, and someone who acts as a handler they are bonded to. One doesn't necessitate the other. You got both, Harold."

"Oh…" was the faint murmur.

Q grinned widely. "Neither of you coerced the other. The bond didn't do that. It was mutual attraction. Rather simple."

"There is nothing simple about this," Finch muttered.

"Why?"

It got him an exhalation of air that was almost an exasperated sigh. "The emotions involved have become… intense."

"Which is normal in this kind of relationship, in our kind of work."

"It shouldn't have happened."

"Well, you can try and push him away again," Q said matter-of-factly, "but it won't work. I know James and he's tenacious when he wants something. And I don't want to give this up. I know that neither do you, Mr. Finch."

The long silence spoke for itself. Finally,

"No, I don't. I'm just under the impression that it is… unfair to him."

"In what regard?"

"Everything. On account of sounding like a teenage girl with a crush, Mr. Whittmore, I… I can't be for him what he might want. There are… limits."

Because he was physically limited, Q translated. Because he thought the physical aspect was as important as the more psychic connection. Yes, it was hard for a person who wasn't of the same supernatural origin as the hellhound to understand the facts. A werewolf would get it. Finch was a cipher and his instincts weren't that primal.

Q had had to deal with primal instincts a lot longer than the other man and he had some experience, though that was limited to the nightmarish terror that was the phoenix. It didn't translate directly into dealing with a hellhound.

Well, as quartermaster of MI6 he also had to deal with posturing Double-Ohs and one-upmanships on a daily basis, so maybe that counted in a way. He knew there was a lot of bark, some bite, and a lot of masks involved in that business.

"Have you talked to Reese about it?" he asked, matter-of-fact.

"No. I…" Finch stopped, fighting for words. "I'm not sure he would understand this as I mean it. I am very much aware of who and what I am. I'm also not doing this for drama. I've come to terms with what happened to me, what it cost me, but then John happened."

"He has known you for more than just a while, Harold."

"Which isn't as uplifting a comment as you might think," the other man replied dryly. "Before he decided to throw away his freedom of choice…" He stopped, sighing. "Before he decided to connect himself to only one handler," Finch reworded, "there were… sexual partners. Now he has this single-minded dedication, this fixation, and I fear something will… happen. Because he won't take a partner outside our very limited relationship."

Q waited, aware of the pain this caused. Finch had feelings, but he was also very much aware now that John Reese wasn't limited to just him for release. Still, Q doubted the hellhound would actively go somewhere else. Reese's emotions were clear as daylight.

"I'm not a therapist," the quartermaster finally said. "And my own, personal relationship is complicated enough, but believe me when I say that John won't look anywhere else. He wants you. As you are. He has known you for two years, Harold. And he isn't without damage either."

It got him a breathy laugh. "I'm quite aware of that. I'm just working through something I never expected, Q."

"That your relationship is based on more than a counter-balancing bond rooted in your preter- and supernatural status?"

Another laugh, lighter this time. "Yes."

"Get used to it. Werewolves are the ones with fiercely monogamous relationships. Hellhounds are distant cousins who aren't. Their choice is made just like a human's."

"It's a new perspective. I'm not like Reese or your Mr. Bond. I'm not relying on basic instincts, but then… then I did something I didn't think about too clearly. I wanted John safe, to continue what we had created together. The Machine… I gave him admin status for a reason. It accepts him fully and would go on working with him. It has done that before; because of Root, too. I just didn't take the bond into consideration. I forgot, Q. How could I forget?"

Finch sounded a little shaky.

"It's new," the technopath told him gently. "It's not something you had time to grow accustomed to."

"I should have considered all angles. It's my job, Q. It's what I do."

"We are handlers," Q agreed. "Of two men who are very directly bound to us. For me, I can feel the counter-balancing effect, the anchoring. Reese is your balance, but you're not a technopath, Harold. You don't see or feel the effect immediately. He would be your anchor should you attempt to use your abilities one day. He wouldn't let you slip."

There was a soft sigh from the other end of the connection. "I understand that now."

"And you worked it out together. You won't make that same mistake again."

"No, I won't," Finch agreed, voice a little shaky.

Q grinned to himself. He suspected he knew how the tension between the two men had been resolved.

"You two…talked?" he hazarded a guess and tried to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Ah, well, yes. We did, actually."

"Good for you."

"Mr. Reese had a few very valid points, which I will take into consideration in the future."

Q grinned more, then grew serious again. "You know, should you require any kind of assistance… you can ask us, Harold."

"I'm aware of your generosity and I thank you, but right now I wouldn't want you to test your limits once again. The Machine will contact us should it decide to keep the irrelevant list running."

"What will you do without the numbers?"

"I don't know yet, Q. I don't know."

"Reese won't leave."

Finch drew in a shaky breath. "No, he won't."

He smiled softly. "Which is a good thing. If you find yourselves at loose ends… come visit London."

"That would be a vacation worth thinking about."

"You know where to call."

"Thank you."

"Good luck, Harold."

"Good luck, Mr. Whittmore."

Q leaned back against the couch, a thoughtful look on his face. He briefly pondered the notion to turn to the HUD and have a look at the place where he knew he could see The Machine, then quickly decided against it. He wasn't afraid, but he was very, very careful. Would be very careful in the future.

He was responsible for more than his own sanity and his own life. He wouldn't risk himself easily anymore.

tbc...