When Q woke the next morning, Bond was already gone. He didn't worry, nor did he wonder. He knew his partner was prone to running when he was trying to work through a problem, and out here he had a lot of running ground. Not that the area was perfect; far from it. James would have to keep to the roads, but it was quiet and almost deserted out here at this time in the morning.

Q showered, shaved and dressed in jeans and a sweater, then headed for breakfast. Bond came from his run just as he buttered his first slice of toast.

The agent looked slightly breathless, in bad need of a shower, but more balanced and a lot calmer than last night. The energy had burned off.

Q felt a faint smile tugging at his lips, then returned to his breakfast.

James was down, hair still wet, ten minutes later, still glowing. And hungry.

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It didn't surprise Q that they stopped by the chapel at Skyfall on their way out to the Macivraes again. He also wasn't surprised that Bond walked up to the graves of his family, all the generations before him, briefly stopping at the headstone with his parents' names on it, then he entered the old chapel.

Q followed a few steps behind.

He hadn't been inside the last time. He hadn't even been up here the last time. They had been down at the burned out shell of the lodge and this old building had been nothing but a spot in the distance.

Looking around the tiny room, the rough stone brittle in places, the hand hewn, wooden benches still sturdy enough to support the weight of those who might come here to pray, he expelled a breath he hadn't been aware of holding.

Bond stood at the front, gazing at a spot on the ground, then his eyes were on Q.

Dark, emotions whirling inside, so very intense that it should scare the technopath. Instead he held the turmoiled eyes, a rock in the wild sea, holding his own.

They had talked about M, about what she had done for them, and it had scratched at old scars. But unlike maybe a year ago the memories hadn't opened them again. It was an ache that wouldn't go away, this failure to protect their boss, the woman who had made James Bond into 007, who had seen the potential and had shaped him. She had used methods Q could hardly approve of, but the end had justified the means.

She had seen the whole picture. Or at least had had the imagination to see it.

And she had seen them.

Bond turned away from the dark spot on the dusty floor. His arms came around Q, holding him, pressing his lips against the younger man's temple. He exhaled shakily, the tension thrumming through him.

"Ready?" Q whispered.

"Never more so."

Bond was the first to leave the chapel and Q followed after a final look. He stopped at the Bonds' grave, smiling briefly, then he followed the Double-Oh back to their car.

When he looked past the ruin that had been the Skyfall lodge, Q was startled to see two horse-shaped forms coming closer. Nuckelavee, he thought, feeling a little breathless.

They thundered past the parked car, looking as otherworldly as they were majestic, and he saw Bond smile. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, no one saw them unless they drove to this place on purpose, and it was exhilarating to just watch.

"Do you ride?"

Q whirled around, startled, about to yell, when he met the milky white eyes of another nuckelavee.

Taller than any horse he had ever seen, right out of a nightmare, and looking rather amused, if he was one to interpret the expression.

"Ah, no," he managed.

"A shame. I would invite you for a run."

"I also don't shape-change," Q pointed out.

The rumble had to be laughter. "You are our guests. I would give you a lift to Ewan's home. I can leave the kids to run on their own. They are simply stretching their legs, getting reacquainted with the land after spending so much time in the city."

Q watched the two nuckelavee, who were by now almost at the shores of the bay.

"My son Andrew and my daughter Emma. Twins," the nuckelavee behind him explained. "They study in Edinburgh. It's tiring to be only one shape when you are this young. You lose focus. You need to be yourself. This is where we can give them this freedom."

"Oh."

Bond had tracked back to him, nodding at the supernatural behind him. "Nevin."

Q shot him a look and his agent smirked. The bastard knew nuckelavee in their shifted form! And he had to rub it in. Q wondered how he could tell them apart, how he knew that this was Nevin, not anyone else.

"Too bad you can't ride," the nuckelavee – Nevin - said, then started to trot off toward the beach where the two younger ones were racing each other through the cold salt water lapping at their legs.

"From experience," James said, voice low, warm breath against Q's ear, "it's not pleasant, even if you can ride. They aren't horses."

"That is quite obvious, 007," Q replied mildly.

It got him a soft chuckle. Bond leaned in, arms wrapping around his waist, head briefly resting on Q's shoulder.

"You want to leave," the technopath said after a while.

"I'm fine."

"Not this place, not Skyfall. All of this."

Another blown out breath and James buried his face into Q's neck, as if seeking strength, reassurance, warmth, support…

"This is our little weekend vacation."

"It's not very relaxing for you."

"I'm fine, Q."

Like arguing with igneous rock!

The Double-Oh raised his head, brushing his lips over Q's temple, then released him from the embrace.

"I believe we have a lunch date."

Q looked at him, eyes narrowed behind the oversized glasses, taking in the fine lines of stress, the determination etched into his very eyes. James Bond wasn't a man to give up, to turn tail and run from a fight.

And this was a fight.

"Lunch," he only agreed.

The nuckelavee had headed away from the ruin, dark shapes in the distance.

Bond steered the car up the road and through the gate with its lonely sentry, then headed for the Macivrae home.

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It hadn't been hard to find information on hellhounds since they were a common supernatural creature. It was more complicated to sort through everything and filter out what he needed. Finch had spent hours just compiling material that was pertinent to his research and he finally ran a hunter program to grab what he needed and dump the information to be sorted by yet another program.

When he was finally done, Finch had a neat folder that contained every known life-bonded hellhound, categorized into those who had bound themselves to a handler, those who had a handler and a life-partner, and those who, like John, had combined both.

Finch read it all, leaving the combination of handler/intimate bond as his final reading material.

It didn't really give him a lot of new insights, though here or there a few hints were hidden that an intimate relationship would benefit both parties. It wasn't a necessity to make the loyalty bond work, but it was an added bonus, though also a curse when it came to those cerberus in military service or with law enforcement. A handler they related to on a much deeper level than the trust they had already placed in them was also a weakness.

Finch bit his lower lip. He had been aware of that already, but he had been powerless to stop any of the events set into motion two years ago. Even if he had known that the man he had hired as an asset for him to use in his quest was a hellhound, it wouldn't have stopped him. Not really. He hadn't been aware of what could happen.

Neither had been John.

It had happened and there was no going back. And he didn't really want to go back.

Well, he could add his own experiences to the files now, though he wouldn't. It was private and it would remain private. Like his increased flexibility, which had nothing to do with their sexual activities. It was a lessening of cramped muscles, of stiffness in the morning, a balance achieved by whatever this connection had done.

Give and take.

The hellhound had made sure his partner was doing well, and Finch was making sure Reese was balanced, had a purpose, had guidance.

Never a leash.

He would never shackle the other man and he would never abuse the trust. He had sworn that to himself.

And if it meant that he would get to wake up to the presence of John Reese in his bed, to the warmth and serene nature of the powerful form curled close, so be it. Harold almost laughed.

No hardship at all.

"Interesting read, Harold?"

The soft drawl had him look up. He had been subconsciously aware of Reese's presence in the library, but he was so used to the soft steps, probably louder than the man had to be, as if not to startle the cipher, it wasn't alarming.

Not anymore.

He blanked the screen.

A cup of tea was placed on his work table and Reese gave him that infuriatingly knowing smile that had Harold think he was the child caught with its hands in the cookie jar.

"Good morning, Mr. Reese."

"You are up early. Do we have a new number?"

"It is rather quiet right now. You might just take the day off."

Reese sipped from his coffee, quirking an eye brow. Then he sauntered over to one of the book shelves and pulled out a random book. He chose a chair and sat down.

Finch sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes as the other man started to read.

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Two days were enough.

Enough memories, enough getting-to-know-the-new-neighbors, enough time away from civilization and technology.

It cleared something inside his head, Q realized. Being out here, talking to people who were so very different, so very connected to the land, and in a way no different than the technopath. Because a technopath was so very connected to the world of technology. He understood their deep-rooted respect, their need to be here, to preserve Scotland as it is.

And they had enough power with the government to uphold this reservation. Because that is what it was: a reservation for nuckelavee. The government recognized them as what they were and having powerful nuckelavee up high helped immensely.

By Sunday morning, Bond had already packed his things, put his bag into the trunk, and Q just about refrained from rolling his eyes at his partner. The man really couldn't get away from Moira fast enough. He suspected it was mutual.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Q politely said his good-byes.

Moira smiled humorlessly. "You actually mean it."

"I do. If not for your strongly adverse reaction to one another, I'd believe James could say the same. As it is, it's a matter of clashing energies."

She nodded. "I talked to the others who met him and while they recognize the darkness, I'm truly the only one who is challenged by it all. It's a shame." She held out a hand. "I apologize for how you perceived me, Kieran Whitmarsh. I never wanted to offend you or your partner."

Q took the hand and shook it, accepting the apology. "Meeting James can be a bit overwhelming."

"For some. Like me." She shrugged. "Others don't seem to have the problem. I see the darkness and the vortex that is his soul and I can't but wonder how you survive. I saw it now. You are very special."

Q smiled a little. "Thank you."

Ewan shook his hand, telling him they would always be welcome here, then they were on the road. Bond started to marginally relax after a while and when they passed the half hour point, his features relaxed completely.

Q didn't say a thing, simply logged into his email account and started wading through the mountain in his inbox.

He hadn't heard back from Finch after their brief foray into what The Machine had left in Q's brain. He wasn't surprised. He would have been shocked, to say the least, if the cipher had contacted him again right away.

This was something Finch needed to digest, needed to wrap his brain around, needed to accept. The Machine had taken the decision to tell anyone, except maybe John Reese, who Harold really was out of Finch's hands. It had trusted Q for some reason, had decided to inform him about its creator, and Q… well, he had wanted Finch to know.

He was convinced it hadn't been a mistake.

He simply had to wait.

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Kincade lived where his family had always been: a former farm building on the other side of town. Meaning: several miles out of town, up a hill, around a few challenging bends on an unpaved road, past sheep and grazing cattle.

Bond had been to the place a few times when he was a child. His father had taken him here, left him with their gamekeeper when he had business to attend, and he had watched their gamekeeper tend to his own animals, putter around the house, and he had helped Rose, his late wife, when she had set him on a task.

He had been five or six at the time.

Somehow the farm hadn't changed.

Bond parked the car and got out. Q followed, looking around curiously.

"James."

The massive figure of his old friend filled the door and Bond smiled. "Kincade."

"Didn't know you were coming."

"I visited Ewan and Moira. We had a few more things to talk about concerning Skyfall. I also met the extended clan."

Kincade gestured at them to come inside and Q smiled politely, following the two men.

The inside had changed even less. The open hearth, the tiny kitchen that opened to a living room. It was bright in here, warm and homey, and there were a lot of knick-knacks Bond recognized from almost thirty-five years ago. For a moment he expected Rose to come in, offer tea and cookies.

"Nothing has changed," he remarked as he accepted a cup of tea from his host.

Q nodded his thanks when he was given one, too.

Kincade shrugged. "Rose loved those home improvement shows, but we never got around to her plans. She always said it was still fine as is. And then she passed and I didn't see the sense in changing anything anymore."

Bond looked at a photo taken of the happy couple, fifteen years ago maybe, by the looks of it. He finally turned away.

"When you told me about the Macivraes interest in Skyfall, you also told me about their difference."

Kincade's bushy eyebrows lowered a little.

"And you indirectly asked if I had a problem with them being supernaturals."

"I kinda figured you'd be open-minded," the older man said. "After everything, despite you being so close-mouthed about what you do, I figured whatever it is, you can't do it being a bigoted arse."

Q's brows shot up and Bond smirked.

"No, I can't."

"You're not gonna tell me what it is you do, right?"

"A very loose description would be 'civil servant specializing in security'."

Q tried not to smile.

Kincade just watched him, then nodded. "Government employee."

"In a way."

"And your friend here?"

"Colleague. We work together."

"Tech support," Q simply said when he saw Kincade's quizzical look.

"Good friend," Kincade stated.

"I trust him implicitly at work," James told him calmly. "And I need him as my counter-balance."

The bushy brows lowered again, those still sharp eyes on Q, then on Bond.

"I'm preternatural, Kincade."

The old gamekeeper blinked. "Never figured that, son. Your parents weren't."

"It's not hereditary," Q said calmly. "Preternaturals rarely inherit their ability from their parents, aside from maybe the hecate, but since that is an almost symbiotic existence with the nuckelavee, they can't really be seen as rolemodels for hereditary traits."

Kincade blinked again, slightly confused. He turned back to Bond. "So what are ya?"

"Phoenix."

That got a very obvious shock reaction. The old man nearly took a step back and he was staring hard, mouth opening, then closing again without making a sound.

"I didn't find out until I first… died," Bond continued.

"Apparently it doesn't manifest earlier. There are no indicators," Q supplied calmly.

"You died," Kincade echoed tonelessly. "Because of your job?"

A shrug. "I didn't know why I survived. I didn't know I was a preternatural. That took a while to settle in."

Bond pushed those memories of his first resurrection away. They weren't light, happy ones. They weren't ones to be shared with anyone but Q.

"And you… beat death," Kincade stated.

"In a way."

The sharp eyes were on Q again. "So what's the counter-balance for?"

That was Q's cue. For a longer explanation, for the truth, and it would take a while. It also required another cup of tea.

Thankfully Kincade didn't pry into what being psychically linked partners meant, though Bond suspected the older man knew. There was this light in his eyes, this understanding, though nothing was either confirmed or denied.

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When they left, Kincade looked thoughtful, shaking Q's hand.

"Keep an eye on him, son."

"I always do."

It got him a smile. "Yeah. James, my boy, it was good seeing you again. Might just drop by Ewan and Moira's some time. See how they are doing."

"You do that." Bond gave him a tight smile. "Take care."

They walked to the car and Bond drove off slowly, taking care not to hit too many potholes. Q's eyes were on the road, but Bond was very much aware that his attention was on the phoenix.

"Stop it," he growled.

It got him an innocent look. The Double-Oh stopped the car as they reached the intersection where the side road met the main road again. He reached over and slipped his fingers through Q's, squeezing them.

The technopath leaned over and kissed him, close-mouthed, just a brief contact.

"Home," he only said.

Bond gave him a smile that almost reached his eyes. "Home," he agreed, voice rough and a little bit too gritty.

Q gazed into the glacially blue eyes, then nodded and drew back. Bond released the hand he had been holding and started the car again, pulling out onto the empty main road.

tbc...