Bond was sent on a mission three days later.
It actually went smoothly and Q had to confess he was a little bored as he guided his agent through the busy streets of Bangalore, India, going after a hard drive with sensitive data on it.
No one died.
Nothing blew up.
And the thief didn't even notice when Bond lifted the hard drive off him.
It was as close to anticlimactic as Q had ever experienced a mission with the infamous 007.
He was almost worried.
x X XX xx X
The second mission had the excitement the first had been missing. Q could have gone without having his agent nearly die, go missing for forty-eight hours, and end up a mess in a ditch. He lost him again after a brief moment of contact on a stolen cell phone, though the junior agent who had been with Bond reported a successful recovery of an important piece of stolen tech.
The successful recovery of James Bond had to wait until Q could finally pinpoint his location, following weak signals from pilfered phones. The extraction team got to him just before the men of the arms dealer did.
Bond took out four and three more were taken care of by the extraction team.
Q leaned back in his seat and sighed when he finally got the okay, when he finally knew that Bond was on his way home.
"Bloody menace," he muttered, rubbing his aching eyes.
"You knew that when you got him."
Q blinked and put his glasses back on. Bill Tanner gave him a tired smile, looking as rumpled as Q felt.
"Yes, indeed I did." He clicked off his terminal. "He has a penchant for trouble."
"Always had and always will have." Tanner leaned a hip against the table. "Go home, Q. 007 won't be back for the next twenty-four hours. He was airlifted to Canberra and they won't let him go until he's stable for the next flight. Knowing his… abilities, he'll be back sooner than should he healthy."
The technopath refused to comment or react in any way. Bond's penchant for surviving against all odds was known throughout MI6. That he healed just a little better and faster than the average human was something that had happened after their connection had formed and evolved.
"You'll need to be on your toes when he gets back," Tanner went on, a wry smile on his lips. "Have Barker take over for you when he does. You'll have your hands full. And we need to make a dent in your overtime, quartermaster."
He sighed. "Yes, sir."
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Reese sat in front of the laptop, screen open, gazing at the window that demanded his password.
He knew it.
He had known it for a while now, but he had yet to enter the fifteen digits and open the file Finch had handed him. Entrusted him with.
John drummed the fingers of his right hand onto the worn desk top. He had chosen one of the side rooms of the library, one that had power, one he had used before to simply relax, wait, spend some time. It was spacious, had probably been an office before the library had been closed. The windows were grimy with the dirt of years of neglect.
"He wanted me to know," he said, eyes right on the small webcam lens.
The red light winked on and off again.
Finch wasn't there yet.
He was alone.
Except for it. The Machine. Watching him.
"I don't need to know," he continued talking, almost to himself. "I know him. All I need to know I do."
He had chased the elusive billionaire in the beginning, had tried to discover who the man who had hired him, paid him an insane amount of money, truly was. Finch had always been at least two steps ahead of him,. Whatever Reese had thought he had discovered turned out to be nothing but another cover identity in the end.
He smiled.
It had been a challenge and in a way it still was. Harold wasn't just someone who paid an ex-military, ex-CIA operative to bust a few kneecaps and save a person. He had known all about Reese and he had risked himself by exposing himself to John Reese.
In the end both men had won. In the end, John had given Harold his ultimate trust.
"I don't need it," he murmured.
Fifteen dots suddenly appeared in the password request window.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Reese frowned at the webcam, then raised his eyes to the small surveillance camera in the corner.
"Pushy."
The dots stayed. The final decision was up to him.
"What could there possibly be that I don't already know?" he asked, voice soft and low. He knew The Machine picked it up anyway.
The red light winked on and off again.
Reese simply sat there, looking at the password window. His fingers rested on the keys, unmoving.
A second window popped up. It looked like a chat window.
He wants you to know.
Reese cocked an eyebrow. Since the hard reset The Machine hadn't really communicated directly with either of the two men. It had sent the numbers, nothing else.
Now it got directly involved? Over Finch's gift to Reese?
"I don't need it," he said quietly.
It was his gift.
He quirked a little smile. "Which I accepted. I'm just not removing the wrapping."
The cursor blinked for a while. Then, He trusts you
"I know," he said quietly.
It is the most he has ever given to anyone.
Even Grace had never known him. And John had always wondered, until recently. The hellhound had settled down, had calmed, his curiosity sated. He knew who his partner was, instinctively, and that was enough.
Curling his fingers into a fist, he closed his eyes for a second.
Harold had wanted him to see this. He had wanted him to know. The Machine, too.
There was a soft noise, barely audible, but it told Reese of Finch's approach. He shut the laptop and rose, smoothly moving out into the corridor to shadow the cipher a little.
"Mr. Reese," Finch said the moment he entered the corridor. "Quite an early start."
Reese stepped out of the shadows, smiling. Of course Harold would know; if not through The Machine, which was probably still watching attentively, then because of their connection.
"I'm an early riser, Finch."
"Still trying to impress your boss?"
He chuckled at the little teasing reminder. "Do I have to?"
It got him a glance and a barely-there smile. Finch didn't comment.
He followed his employer and partner into the main computer area.
"Do we have another number?"
"We do, actually." Finch sat down and his fingers flew over the keyboard. "Donatella Riviera. Thirty-nine. Waitress at a high-end Italian restaurant."
Reese felt the usual thrill of another case, another mission, another hunt, and he brushed his fingers over his partner's neck as he walked out of the library room.
"Let's find out what is going on in her life then."
"I've sent you her address and that of the restaurant. Good luck, Mr. Reese."
He grinned, then exited the building.
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Bond was back in England two days later and mobile another day after that. Tanner debriefed him in Medical and finally sent him on his way home. Q received a brief text about that fact, though he already knew.
It paid to be a technopath sometimes.
When his wayward agent walked into the flat he looked a little too pale to be healthy, a little too ragged around the edge, but at least he hadn't had to resurrect this time.
"You look like you had an encounter with an angry, knife-wielding hedgehog," the quartermaster remarked neutrally.
Bond's lips curled into a little smile. His face was riddled with healing cuts and scrapes.
"And if you say 'I'm fine' you are going to spend the night on the couch."
"Cruel punishment for an invalid, Q."
"I know Medical's reports," he went on. "I also know you're on medical leave until everything has healed."
"A week."
Q acknowledged that with a nod, though they both knew it wouldn't take that long.
"Due to your little stunt, Tanner had me take overtime and I'll be off work for the next three days."
Bond raised an eyebrow and Q suspected it was stinging, pulling at a cut that was running along the eyebrow in question. The glint in the blue eyes was telling and he rolled his own eyes.
"Dinner's delivery," the technopath only said, already checking the estimated delivery time. The driver was en route and it would take about fifteen more minutes.
Bond walked over to him, the limp barely perceptible, though Q noticed. There was also the way he favored his right side. Bruised and cracked ribs.
"No welcome home?" the Double-Oh teased as he stepped up close.
Q smiled a little. "You'll get a welcome, but the welcome home will have to wait." He leaned forward, kissing the chapped lips.
Bond's fingers slid into the longish, dark strands, keeping the younger man's head in place, deepening the kiss. Q felt something curl thought him, reacting to the force of nature that was his agent. He felt the phoenix, tired, healing, but still strong, and he carefully stroked over the uninjured side.
"Later," he whispered against James' lips when they parted. "Without pain."
The wintery eyes were intense, hungry, needy, but Bond stepped back a little, nodding almost imperceptibly.
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Q hadn't really been inside the HUD ever since The Machine had overwhelmed him. It hadn't been fear, it had been… something like fear. Coupled with respect. He didn't think The Machine would hurt him, break the shields, the barrier, between it and Q, but the memories were there.
The strength and power, the maelstrom of data, the vast, seemingly endless ocean that was this unique program.
Q had looked into an abyss that had looked back. An abyss that encompassed the world.
Strong fingers interlaced with his and squeezed his hand. He looked into the glacially blue eyes of his partner, saw the warmth and strength, but also the fierce, primordial thing that was his nature. The physical contact was almost like a jolt to the one that connected their souls.
"I'll be there," Bond murmured.
"You always are," Q replied softly. "You can never not be there."
James' lips curled into a slow smile. Q drew a breath, then simply slipped into the HUD. It was an easy process, as normal as breathing to him, and when he looked at the countless screens that reminded him of his work place, part of him relaxed a little.
The world of technology was just beyond his finger tips. It wasn't a place to shy away from; it was what his brain had been made for to conquer. He was firmly anchored in his partner and when he looked back, the wall of darkness wasn't something to feel afraid of.
And it spread.
It was encroaching from the sides and behind, forming a midnight black sky over him. It was cold and hot, fire and ice. It was endless energy, nightmarish energy, taken from the depths of time and space. It was as primordial as it was vicious and driven by pure instinct, lusting for violence and blood.
It was the phoenix.
And it was the most calming thing Q had ever felt.
Razor sharp claws shimmered at the edge of the dark veil.
His safety net.
The claws were an illusion, but they were also real. In here, within their psychic connection, they could shred his mind, tear him apart, but they never would. It would never harm him in any way. This was what kept him safe and sane. This was what Moira had felt and was terrified of.
Q smiled more. He turned to look at what lay beyond the HUD and found the presence of The Machine just like he remembered it. It was powerful and calm and just a reflection of what the program really was.
The technopath simply watched, close to the barrier but not even close to touching it.
He felt the brush of claws against his back, felt the phoenix close, the terrifying preternatural nothing but calm and assertive. Q threaded his very soul through those razor claws, balanced and anchored.
The Machine was watching him, aware of the preternatural mind that had protected it not so long ago.
It was... breath-taking. From the viewpoint of a technopath it was perfection. The data streams, the codes, the endless feeds from all over the world… Q had been there, right in the middle, looking at a million screens, hearing a million voices, and he knew this wasn't even everything. He had been in a HUD that reduced his own to that of an amateur. There had been an endless wall of screens, running on forever and ever. He had seen it, experienced it, and still he hadn't touched it.
Not truly.
He would lose his mind if he did.
The Machine had kept him from falling over the edge, from even stumbling too close, like a parent keeping an eye on a child learning to walk.
Right now, there was no connection, no closeness. There was the shield between them, protecting Q from the sheer endless waves of data.
The Machine suddenly slid away from the remote contact and seemed to disappear mostly in the world of the web. It was still there, still a powerful entity, but no longer so prominently visible.
Q felt himself smile, felt the darkness of his partner blanket him, draw him away from the HUD, and he let him do it. He hadn't even been close to a zone-out, but the slight infraction of The Machine, the threat of coming closer, of losing his mind in the maelstrom of data, had been enough for James to react.
When he opened his physical eyes he was flat on his back, James hovering above him, the blue eyes intense and lit up with something that was still very… primal. There was a very noticeably possessive aura around him, the tension almost palpable. Strong fingers cupped Q's cheek, the thumb brushing over the skin in a gentle caress.
The technopath smiled.
Bond mirrored the smile.
No fangs, no claws, no shifting. His partner would never be able to do it and he was quite glad. While he had never asked Finch, he was convinced that Reese tended to shift, show his claws and fangs. With Bond it were only the eyes, and even that sometimes looked like nothing but an illusion that only Q could see. No, as fascinating as fangs might be, he was quite content not to have to kiss around them. Or worry about shredded clothes and claw marks on his skin.
Q pulled himself off that tangent of thought and pushed himself up on his elbows, feeling no ill effects of his foray into the HUD.
"I'm fine," he simply said.
"I know," was the husky reply.
Q pulled him into a kiss, lips brushing over lips. It wasn't foreplay; it wasn't meant to arouse. It was simply a contact to calm the preternatural side.
And it worked.
Bond's fingers slid into his hair, messing up the longish strands, and he grinned, easy and open and relaxed.
"Thank you," Q simply said.
"I'll always be there," was the low promise.
And he would do everything in his power to keep what had happened already from happening again. Even if the phoenix wasn't really capable of keeping The Machine at bay.
James would try.
He would fight.
For Q.
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It was five in the morning and New York City was still waking up. Some people were out and about, coming home from work or going to their early shift. Some were taking the dogs out, some were drifting home from parties, and some were running laps through the various parks if they hadn't gone to one of the endless number of 24/7 fitness establishments.
Reese was running laps. Dressed in gray and dark blue sweats, the hood of his sweater covering his head, a scarf around his neck, he was already into his second hour of running.
He was an early bird.
So was Finch.
The cipher was sitting on a park bench, laptop open and displaying several windows full of data streams, email client accounts and news feeds. He alternated between work and watching the hellhound run.
He liked watching.
He liked watching John move.
Finch smiled a little to himself, trying to drag his eyes away from the slender figure moving so easily along the footpaths, almost effortlessly, not really showing signs of tiring. Reese had an incredible endurance, and no, he wasn't thinking about the bed at all.
He felt no regrets, no jealousy, at how this man had what Harold had lost. He had been here before the accident, like John, running, working out. It would never happen again, but the pain of loss was gone. Harold just enjoyed the sight, the warm feeling of contentment that he hadn't had in too long.
"Ready to go, Finch?"
The soft voice in his ear drew him out of his musings and he closed the laptop.
"Ready, Mr. Reese."
Finch rose and started to walk toward the park exit, his limp as always present, making him so much slower than the average walker. Reese, who had been halfway across the park, easily caught up with him, looking flushed, sweaty, breathing just a little more than normally. His eyes were alight with the rush of the work-out, and he shot Harold an easy smile.
"No new number," Finch told him.
"Good. I feel like a large breakfast."
He chuckled. "I'll meet you there."
Reese's acknowledging smile was open and unguarded, then he trotted off to his place to shower and a change of clothes. Finch simply called ahead to a restaurant he preferred, ordering the usual to be picked up in half an hour.
x X XX xx X
Forty minutes later he let himself into John's place, carrying the breakfast bags.
x X XX xx X
Across the Atlantic, safely ensconced in Q branch, the quartermaster of MI6 was busy guiding his Double-Oh agent through hacking into a multi-billion dollar computer to steal one specific file and make the whole system unusable for the foreseeable future.
That Bond had killed three people to get where he was now was of no consequence at the moment.
That there was an explosive device just waiting to be triggered didn't register consciously with Q, though he knew it was there.
That his Double-Oh had broken a rib or two and was most likely suffering from a concussion hadn't stopped the agent in question from doing what he had come here to do.
Q had already sought and found three different escape routes and an extraction team was waiting for him to give them the green light.
Just a normal day at work.