Bond was lying on his back, hands folded behind his head. Alec was sleeping beside him. The sex had been spectacular and for the first time in months, Bond had felt their connection as truly reciprocal. Giving as much as receiving. Maybe even receiving more, for once. When Alec had returned from the therapy session yesterday evening, Bond had felt the difference in their bond even before Alec had entered their flat. Both wolves had been back, then, curling up together.
Bond's worried look had been met with a flirtatious smirk, eerily reminding Bond of their very first meeting, back in the navy. He had fallen in love with this man, both of them orphans, both of them sentinels. Their abilities made them valuable assets, at the same time they were more vulnerable than most, in ways, their superiors seldom understood or cared about. They had to function out in the field, any sign of weakness would be interpreted as failure, and could result in breaking their bond. A soulbond, formed through the years, uncommon for sentinels. Bond's mind wandered. Back to times, when their future seemed bright, when they still believed that they could beat the odds. He sighed, covering his eyes with his hand. Naïve, that's what they had been. The signs had been there, if they had dared to look for them. Zoning out for a few seconds, quarrelling, even the occasional fistfight. And the wolves disappearing. The ultimate warning sign, Bond now understood. But they hadn't known, still didn't know a lot of things about being sentinels. Too few people knew they even existed, even fewer had tried to understand and research what made them special. There might have been lots of them in earlier times, Bond wondered. Many of the great paintings of kings and queens, their beloved pets by their side. Were they their animasouls? Were they painted by their guides, who would have been renowned for their ability to understand and depict the emotions, they would portray in the paintings?
Taking a deep breath, Bond got up. He looked at Alec, sleeping soundly. Another first time, Bond thought. He smiled. When Alec had come home yesterday, there had been no time for talking. They went at each other as if it were their last day together. Shedding clothes all the way to the bedroom, thrusting, open mouthed kissing, as if wanting to devour the other, licking, biting. The first frenzied coupling was followed by several others, Bond lost count after his second or third orgasm. He had felt alive, connected, as if a long-lost lover finally had returned. And yet. Something had been off.
Eventually, they had both exhausted whatever pent-up energy they had. Alec was asleep even before Bond had managed to clean him, tangled as he was in their soiled bed sheets. When Bond got in beside him, Alec had turned and tugged himself close to Bond. And Bond had held him close, cataloguing every sensation he could detect: the scents, the shadows playing over the muscled body, the sound of Alec breathing. Bond felt contented. Or did he?
Standing in the bathroom, he looked at the mirror. He grimaced at himself. The face meeting him in the mirror was looking like death warmed over. Every wrinkle and furrow, the dark shadows under his eyes, they were testament to the toll, their relationship had taken on him. Whatever that therapist had done with Alec, it seemed to be working. But it had put a spotlight on their skewed bond. Taking a deep breath, he began his morning routine. He had to get ready to face this therapist. Maybe, well, maybe he could do some magic, make them heal and become the couple, he hoped them to be.
In another part of London, Q was literally crawling out of bed, cursing sentinels and their stupidity in not finding a proper guide in time. And huffing at himself, as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, reminding himself how difficult it was to find guides these days. How little people knew about the needs of sentinels. Stupid evolution, he thought, brushing his teeth. Sentinels, in the past praised for their heightened senses, their ability to fight, to withstand pain and exhaustion¬–always forgetting their existential need for a guide that could bond with them. Easily forgotten, those guides, Q thought with a wry smile. He got under the shower, relishing in the warmth. If only people knew. Guides could go undetected they were self-sufficient by nature. Funny that, Q considered, not for the first time, how these superior sentinel beings would be depending on another being, which in turn is disregarded not only by history, but by science altogether. That is, by mainstream science. Their own little circle and generations past had made sure to collect and investigate whatever makes a guide a good guide, and, most importantly, how a guide can disguise themselves, to avoid the bond which would claim their whole existence to revolve around a sentinel and keep them safe.
With a sigh, Q turned off the water and grabbed a towel. His mother was right, he could do so many things with his life, and here he was, actually trying to find a way of helping two hopeless sentinels, caught up in a life-destroying soulbond, and utterly helpless. At least Trevelyan had been. Q suspected that the other half of the pair, this James Bond, would be the strong one. The one, who had made the bond possible in the first place. If his name was anything to go by, Q pondered.
Putting on clothes, Q thought back to his first bond. It had been a year since Scottie had died. No matter what Mother thought about him, their bond had been loving and warm. Scottie had taught him the mystery that sentinels and guides were, their history, their possibilities when the bonding was a match and consensual. And he had warned him, knowing full well that Q would outlive him. Warned him about the signs of mismatches and abuses. He had let Q develop his own interests, enabling him to get an education, a university degree. Scottie had been his safe haven, when his own mind went into self-destructive spiraling.
He stood in his kitchen, a cup of tea in his hand. Earl-Grey with a touch of milk, just like Scottie liked it. He missed him, missed his laugh, his touch, their time together, when he would explain a new idea to Scottie, having them both poring over books and websites, searching for information and discussing new connections. Instead of following this path he had decided to help Mother. He shook his head and wondered what Scottie would have made of this. Probably scolding him for being stupid, believing he would be able to save these sentinels. Then again, no, Scottie would never have called him stupid. He wouldn't have scolded him. Instead, he would have gone into their library and looked in the old books, shooing Q to use this 'internet thing' he was so taken to, to go, and do his research.
Straightening his clothes, Q took his small messenger bag, made sure he had his keys and wallet, before opening the front door. Time to meet the second half of this pairing.