Reese had left without too many words, a nod, a look, then he was gone. He had done his disappearing act and Finch had told Q he would give him the name and address of where they could meet when it was time. Q understood the caution the other man used; he would do the same. And he was in the spy business.
He had no idea who Finch was or had been. He couldn't even tell his age through his voice. Reese trusted him and he suspected the two men had worked together for a while now. The same expression Bond was wearing right now – misgiving and slightly annoyed – had been on Reese's face just before he had left.
Because Finch was Reese's handler. Because he protected him.
Just like Bond acted around Q.
"Are you sure this was a wise move?" the Double-Oh finally asked when they were alone in their suite and Q had secured not only the network but also the door.
"Yes." Q shot him a quizzical look. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"We don't know who Reese's partner is. We're going into this situation without a shred of intel."
"Which is daily business for you."
"Exactly." Wintery eyes flashed. "For me. You're not a field agent."
Q tilted his head with a small smile teasing his lips. "Maybe not, but I can handle myself, 007."
The misgiving turned into aggravation.
"And it's the logical next step. Reese isn't the killer, someone else is, and we can use him as bait. I also want to know who this man on the other end of the comm. line is, Bond. He's a superb hacker. His skills are fantastic and if he wrote all the code I encountered on his own, he might even have preternatural abilities."
"Another technopath?"
"I doubt it."
"You said 'Reese isn't the killer'."
Q sighed. "He isn't. We were shadowing him while Evans was killed. And he can't be in two places at once."
"New kind of ability?"
"Now you're being ridiculous, 007," Q chastised.
Bond smirked. "He might have associates. Ones that would kill the werewolf."
"I doubt it."
"So he isn't the one. You really believe Finch will call you?"
Q nodded. "Yes," he answered firmly.
Bond walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a generous glass full of scotch. Q noticed that his dull headache had receded. The phoenix was physically close now, though not touching, and everything was good. Everything was balanced again.
"Until then there is something I want to look into. And I'll probably need you for that."
His partner prowled back to him. Yes, it was a prowl. Those lithe, predatory movements were a definite prowl.
"Q?"
"When I tried to find out where the hacks and counter-hacks came from, I… touched something. Something very interesting, something connected to Finch. And it's not him. Nothing of what I felt was human, James. I want to know what it was, how it connects to him. We might have no intel on the man himself, but I can get some information in another way."
The scowl on the handsome face was very telling.
"I'll be fine. You're my anchor, Bond. I can handle this."
"Sure?"
"Very."
The scowl stayed, but Bond didn't try to talk him out of it. He actually never did when it came to the technopathic side of Q's life. It was his way of showing the younger man just how much he trusted him and his abilities. It was a sign of how much he already understood of Q's preternatural side, about his own role in it as an anchor, and what that meant.
Q looked his agent up and down, assessing his health. He and Reese hadn't held back. Q could only see the facial injuries, but he suspected there were more.
"I'm fine, Q," Bond answered the unspoken question.
"I highly doubt it, 007." But he let the topic drop.
Bond would argue he was fine with broken ribs and a sucking chest wound.
His agent settled down on the bed, feet up and crossed at the ankles, looking relaxed and completely in control of the situation.
But yes, there had been a wince. He had seen it.
"How do you want me?" Bond purred.
Q laughed softly. "In an ideal world, naked and at my beck and call. But right now this is work and physical contact will be limited to mere presence."
The blond brows rose, the eyes full of a teasing light no one ever got to see this way. This wasn't an act, a cover persona, a role he played. This was James, the phoenix, his partner and so much more.
Q slid to his side, opened the laptop and then created an outside channel for himself to use as a launch point.
He didn't say anything, didn't give Bond a cue, just used the secure line to hunt for what he had touched before.
Just before he entered the HUD and with it lost touch with reality and the physical form of himself, he felt strong fingers curl around one wrist.
Then there was only the cyberspace.
Above him the phoenix hovered like the proverbial bird of prey, a terrifying creature, a nightmare, a ferocious hunter and killer.
His protector.
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He hadn't given the old pack a lot of thought in the past two years. It had been a time before… before everything had turned to hell. It had been a time of purpose for John Reese. He had had missions; he had had a job to do.
And then.
Ordos.
It had been the moment his life had turned around, when he had – for the first time – been shown that the CIA wasn't above eliminating agents they deemed redundant.
Retired.
He had been told to retire Kara Stanton and he had followed orders because Snow had told him. She had been compromised; she had been a traitor.
And he had believed it.
That Kara had been told the same about him had been the turning point in his life. He had survived Ordos, unlike his former handler, and he had gone under. He had gone deep. He had licked his wounds, healed as best as possible, and he had tried to live a new life.
All in all he had managed badly until Finch had found him. Reese had lived from day to day, had tried to find the one person in his life who had ever meant anything more than a mark, a target or a partner.
But Jessica had been killed; just a few months before he had retired himself.
Reese had lost it, had killed the one who had taken her life, and still it had given him no satisfaction. His preternatural side had mourned, had yearned for a new purpose, but he had had none.
Until Finch.
He had something to hold onto, something that meant more than just following orders. He made a difference. He saved lives instead of taking them.
Finch wasn't his handler, but he also wasn't simply an acquaintance. The instinct he had been born with, what made him the preternatural creature he was, needed someone to relate to. The pack had meant an alpha and while he wasn't a werewolf, he had functioned as a pack member. A beta, so to speak. Snow had commanded his loyalty, though never his complete trust. The werewolves trusted their alpha; it was their instinct.
Reese wasn't like them.
He had been pack, but in some regards he had been an outsider, too.
Now someone had picked them all off, except Snow and himself.
He looked at the bustle around him, people going about their daily business.
Who but another werewolf could kill a whole pack? And would Snow really take them out? Yes, he was a ruthless man, an old alpha, one who was extremely loyal to the CIA. But kill his own pack?
It would go against everything a werewolf felt. It was their strongest trait, this loyalty, and with it one of their biggest weaknesses. Pack was sacred. Pack was family.
So it had to be someone else. Another pack? A loner? Most likely not even a werewolf, he mused.
But who? Some of his former colleagues had been shot up close and personal, meaning the killer had faced them – and they hadn't even defended themselves.
He didn't know.
Reese only knew that aside from Snow, he was the only target they could work with.
Did he trust Bond and Q?
Something inside of him stirred.
Strangely enough, yes, his instincts said he could trust the other men. Bond wasn't that different from him. Actually, they were very much alike.
Alike enough for Bond to be a preternatural.
That was instinctive knowledge as well. Not a werewolf, not anything even close, but he wasn't completely human either.
And Q… Despite looking very young, he wasn't. Well, he was young, but not as young as he looked. And he seemed like a calming rock in a wild sea. Reese's instinct had reacted to that, taking in the weapon, the man, the aura, and he had decided then and there that Q wouldn't shoot him in cold blood.
Reese pushed through the masses and headed for the library. Finch had been silent the whole time, giving him the privacy Reese had subconsciously needed, and he was thankful for it.
It was time to talk to the other man.
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Finch sat in the library, only the soft snores of Bear disturbing the silence. He looked at the dog with a fond expression, then went back to his screen. Hacking into MI6 had taken time and effort, but now he had answers. At least a few more than before.
He knew who he had been talking to, who was Bond's partner, though he had no answer as to who the man truly was. He had his designation and job description, but not his real name. MI6 guarded that fiercely and he suspected his counterpart had set up the firewalls himself.
Very impressive, indeed.
"Q?" Reese asked, voice soft and laced with interest.
Finch had heard him walk up to the main computer station, almost silent, movements lithe and measured, but still loud enough not to scare his employer and partner. There was also the fact that Reese had a certain presence. He was there. Finch had no other explanation for it. And it happened only around Finch, it seemed. He was this commanding, completely there presence, this fact in Finch's life.
He had never really tried to find out why.
Well, liar, part of him sing-songed. He knew what Reese was. He knew he wasn't completely human, that he had run with a wolf pack in the CIA. He knew he was not simply a killer who, when pointed at the right target, did what he was told to do. He wasn't a tool.
Reese was a protector as well. He had chosen Finch, had given him his trust and loyalty. Finch had earned it and it made him proud and warmed him like nothing had since his own presumed death. Reese had given his life meaning and he had given Reese's life direction again.
He was the kind of preternatural who needed this. Not guidance, not a leash, just someone he could trust and who understood his nature.
"The quartermaster of MI6," he now only said, "head of their so-called Q branch."
"And his name is Q? How quaint."
Finch smiled, turning his head a little stiffly. "His code name. I find it difficult to get into any of his files that might contain his real one. I ran the face, but there is no match anywhere. He is very well protected."
"Do you trust them?" Reese wanted to know, voice neutral.
His presence seemed to increase, like a physical being, his second nature, prowling around and rumbling, not completely at ease but also not aggressive.
"No. But if someone is killing your old pack I believe it is important to look into. The MI6 agents are our best chance right now." Finch raised an eyebrow.
Reese nodded, but he didn't look too happy.
"Be careful," he said.
"The same goes for you."
The deep-set blue eyes were dark, intense, maybe even frightening to someone who hadn't looked into them so often before. Finch wasn't afraid. He trusted this man completely.
Reese held his eyes for a moment longer, then just nodded and walked to where Finch stored snacks and coffee.
He watched him for a second, still so very much aware of the other man, like even when he wasn't close he was right next to Finch, then he turned back to the computer.
He had some additional information to check.
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Q had found recorded images of Reese after he had applied his skills and hacked into the traffic camera system. He had followed his path through the streets of New York, along the subway system, through alleys and back yards, but he had finally lost the man as he had expertly dodged between cameras.
And Q hadn't really tried to follow him any more. It might be interesting where he went, if he would go back to wherever Finch had his headquarters, or find his place of residence, but it wasn't his primary concern.
Instead he had turned to the HUD, had slipped neatly inside and moved through the network, following the very faint, very encrypted signals he had noticed before.
Part of those signals was the comm. line Reese and Finch used. It was a fascinating code and it spoke of the high level Finch operated in.
Another was… background. Something like the source.
Q had touched something akin to an artificial intelligence before, elaborate programs that mimicked intelligence, but the machines in question had never become able of independent decision.
This… this was different. Still a program. Still learning with each data input, with each second it interacted with humans. Still not beyond a primary stage.
But it was different.
It felt… protective.
Q stood outside the barrier that kept the program from touching him directly and he studied it with interest. He couldn't define it, but he had this feeling that something was looking back at him. Something still very young, very much unaware of a lot of things, except for the lines it had to the outside world. It wasn't truly there, just a fragment of the whole, but it was strong and powerful and at the center of an intricate web of outside information that streamed in constantly.
Q walked along the barrier, never passing the border between the HUD and this semi-intelligence, and he saw flashes of data, non-stop and massive, all being fed into the core of this machine. It was a super-computer, but also far more than just that. It was a machine like he had never seen before, the program intricate and complicated and consisting of a language Q understood instinctively because of his technopathy.
Only a few could write code like this.
Q was one of them and he had always assumed only another technopath could copy his efforts.
He had just been proven wrong.
What are you? he thought.
As if the machine had heard him, the strange presence seemed to turn and look at him.
Just for a second.
And it had Q freeze and just look back, holding eyes that were no eyes, looking into something that had no face, no features, was just code upon code upon code.
Ethereal and beautiful and not human. Never human. Not preternatural, not supernatural. It was a machine and yet it wasn't.
Child-like and evolving.
Admin.
He caught that one word and he knew where it led. He didn't have to follow the imperceptible line to a place that shouldn't exist, a backdoor that shouldn't be there.
Admin.
There was the Admin and there was The Machine.
The moment passed and he was still behind the barrier the HUD had created, safe from directly touching The Machine. He was a technopath and he would be able to handle the program, though he wasn't so sure he could ever extricate himself from it, should he step inside.
It would be more than an addiction. It was perfection in the making, clear-cut and powerful, loyal in a way that wasn't human, and protective. Limited in its way because of the code that kept it from evolving unchecked, but still so much more than the Admin had ever intended it to be.
Q blinked and the HUD disappeared, the room around him coming back.
Reality.
Unchanged.
With only an hour that had passed. It had felt like seconds.
Bond's hand was still curled around his wrist, a stable anchor between the worlds he traveled, a fix point in cyberspace felt even though Q wasn't truly aware of his own body any longer.
The phoenix's eyes were cool with a spike of fire in their depths, the blue lighter than before, almost silvery, intense, catching Q nearly off guard. He couldn't tear his eyes away, fascinated, drawn in, almost drowning in the stead-fast presence, the solid, very real way Bond was… he just was. There was no doubt about him being there, about his place in Q's soul. He felt him all around his mind, his soul, the darkness like wings. It embraced him, shielded him, kept him sane.
"007," he managed.
"Q." And the smirk was very real as well. It broke the moment and he blinked.
Q raked a hand through his messy hair and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.
Bond's fingers were still around his wrist. It felt good. It felt even better when those strong fingers opened and slid into his own, clasping his hand and squeezing it reassuringly.
"Found what you wanted."
It wasn't even a question, because Bond knew. He might not be a technopath, but he knew nevertheless. It was a knack and probably something that was part of their connection.
"Yes. A lot. And more questions."
Finch had created something incredible without intending to, a learning, evolving machine, using a code that was absolutely unique and new.
Q would be damned if the man didn't have a bit of preternatural in him.
Bond raised an eyebrow, clearly asking.
Q smiled. And he told his partner what he had seen, what he had touched, and just how much he really didn't understand.
He was really looking forward to meeting the Admin.
x X XX xx
Bond went for a shower and a change of clothes and Q knew he was patching himself up in the bathroom. He walked out again with wet hair, dressed only in sweat pants, and Q raised his eyebrows at the colorful bruises. Bond mimicked the quizzical expression and Q shook his head. He ran an appreciative eye over the rest of the exposed skin.
"At your beck and call, Q," Bond said in that low, sultry voice that created goose bumps on Q's skin.
He looked at the very enticing sight. "Wouldn't want to break you." He shot a pointed look at the bruises and scrapes.
Bond laughed. It was an open, amused laugh, eyes alight with humor. "You couldn't."
"I could try."
"Give it your very best."
His partner held out a hand.
"I just might, 007."
Q waited for a heartbeat, then just took him up on the invitation.
X X xx
And no, he didn't break him. If anything, Bond broke him.
tbc...