A/N: Ok, so here is chapter 2. I'm sorry to those people who reviewed and I didn't reply to – I tried, but it's not been long since I posted and I thought you'd like to read this. And for those reading Perfectly Normal – I'm sorry, it's not going to be updated today. I'm working on an interlude at Brecon Beacons with Tom and the rest of the class and Fox and I want it to be the next chapter posted. So even though all the Alex-related ones have been posted, I'm adding to it. Any ideas for the interlude, PM me!

Oh, and a note on why this story is rated M. It is not graphic, but it has Slash, mental instability, non-con, dub-con, underage sex, violence, abuse, brainwashing (or something similar at least), inappropriate career choices and non-con-drug-abuse. I'll highlight which ones are present in each chapter a the start, just so you know. In this one... alcohol abuse, I guess.

DISCLAIMER: You all know the drill – nothing belongs to me.

***

This time, he managed to open his eyes, but the room was dark. His head was hanging down and it slowly filtered down to his fog-filled brain that he was tied to the metal chair he was sitting on. Tied very securely.

His elbows and wrists were attached to the chair by what felt like heavy plastic ties – the kind that wouldn't snap, wouldn't loosen and had to be cut off. If it had been handcuffs, he could probably have picked them. If it had been ropes, he could have untied them. But with these, he was stuck. It only took him a second more to realise that, while his feet weren't attached by the plastic ties, they were cuffed by the ankles and each chained to the closest leg. On top of this there was what he assumed to be a large leather belt pulled tight around his hips and apparently fastened behind the seat back.

Had he been tied up last time he woke? He couldn't remember.

Slowly he lifted his head and cricked his neck to loosen the stiff ache from having his head hanging as a dead weight.

How did he get here again? He could remember something... he had been looking for something... but he couldn't remember what. And a lot of his memories were like that now anyway - he'd been a spy for two years now and in that time had done pretty much everything – but this one seemed recent.

Unfortunately it was weak, nothing more than a vague impression. He couldn't remember if that was the last thing that had happened or something a week or more beforehand.

Suddenly there was a voice from somewhere in the darkness.

"So you're awake, then."

The voice was cold. It was deep and, he had to admit, fairly attractive. But that wasn't saying anything. Alex had met psychopaths with voices to make you swoon. There was no accent that Alex could detect and yet, he thought he recognised it. But that was ridiculous.

It wasn't unknown for captives to attempt to find something familiar about their captors. Apparently, it made them human and therefore, more likely to empathize with the captive. It was probably just that.

A light snapped on, illuminating Alex in a ring of light, leaving the rest of the room dark. Alex blinked his eyes furiously against the sudden flood of light. After he adjusted, he looked around, but his jailor was still hidden in the shadows.

"Why am I still alive?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse. He was a captive, so the man who held him was obviously his enemy. And the few of Alex's enemies who were alive all wanted him dead.

"Many of my... associates would pay good money to see you dead."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"What if I were to say you were only alive so that I could kill you slowly?"

Alex tried to shrug, but with his restraints it came out more like a shoulder twitch. "I've been tortured before."

It was all bravado. He had been tortured before, it went with the job, but he could feel his heart rate increase and the sweat bead icily on his forehead as panic pulsed through his veins.

Somewhere behind him, his captor issued a sigh. "You really are an agent, through and through."

Alex remained silent.

"Goodnight, Alex."

The light snapped out. Somewhere behind him, a metal door clanged closed. Alex was left alone.

***

Wolf had no idea why he was back here. There were other pubs closer certainly and there was nothing all that special about here. It had started with a desperate need to get out, a hasty retreat into the elements. He had walked and walked and somehow ended up outside Bear's local again and, from a loss of what else to do, slipped inside.

Greg was still there, rubbing salt in Wolf's wounds simply by his presence, but the glass of whisky he was handed went a long way to solving that. The second went even further. He quickly drained the glass again and waited patiently as Greg refilled it.

"Something the matter?" the blond asked.

Wolf nodded silently.

"Want to talk about it?"

"No," he grumbled, letting his head sink onto his arms, but somehow he found words spilling out of him anyway. "I... well, there was this kid... great kid, hero, really. He's dead. Died six months ago and... I only just found out... Jesus... I said I'd keep him alive! I swore to myself in France that if I couldn't get him out, I'd at least keep him alive!"

Greg sighed. "I'll just leave the bottle, shall I?"

***

Wolf woke up in a black mood. His head was pounding and he thought his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out.

How much had he had to drink last night?? He thought that Greg had taken the second bottle away from him eventually, but he had no idea how he had got home. A noise by the door caught his attention and he quickly turned his head. He groaned as the room span, but managed to pull himself into a sitting position to greet the opening door.

Greg walked through, holding a tray.

Wolf froze slightly, glancing from Greg to his bare chest then back to Greg.

"Oh God," he said in horror, "we didn't..."

Greg's eyes widened slightly and his mouth tensed as if he was trying to suppress a grin.

"No," he said. "We didn't. If you move the blanket slightly, you'll discover that you have still got your boxers on."

"Oh, thank god!" exclaimed Wolf then paused. "Not that you're not... erm... attractive," he added hurriedly "I mean if you were... or I mean, if I... erm..."

Greg was laughing outright now.

Wolf decided to try again, though he was pretty sure he was just digging himself in deeper.

"It's just that-"

"It's just that you don't want to think that you had sex with someone you only just met while absolutely wasted... even if they are devilishly attractive," interrupted Greg, jokingly.

"Right," said Wolf, relieved.

"What, even the devilishly attractive part?" smirked Greg.

"What? No! I mean... yes... err..."

Wolf groaned as he saw Greg start laughing again.

"Stop that will you?" he snapped, "It's bloody irritating!"

He was pleased to realise that he had now completely separated Greg from Cub, in his mind. They may have looked and sounded remarkably similar, but they acted completely differently. Cub would never have joked around like that with Wolf.

Not that you ever gave him the chance, whispered a treacherous voice in the back of his mind.

Wolf lowered his head slightly in guilt. He wished he had treated Cub better at Brecon Beacons; so he had taken bullets for the kid, but that wouldn't have been necessary if Wolf hadn't been used to manipulate him in the first place. Really, it was disgraceful that neither of them had realised what was happening until afterwards.

"And anyway," said Greg, placing the tray of coffee, toast, orange juice and – thank god – pain killers on the bedside table, "I would hate to take advantage of you – you might kill me the next morning!"

Wolf chuckled at the exaggeration, reaching for painkillers and coffee. It was his favourite hangover cure, no matter how Snake lectured about dehydration and vitamin deficiency. And anyway, Snake always reached for the aspirin as well.

"Thanks," he grunted as he finished off the coffee. It had been exactly how he liked it: strong, black and as bitter as hell.

"Not to seem rude or anything," he said around a mouthful of toast, "but if you didn't sleep with me, why are you here?"

Greg flushed slightly at the unintentional insinuation, but was smart enough to ignore it, realising Wolf was just curious.

"I felt guilty about leaving a semi-comatosed man to fend for himself when he was just trying to drown his sorrows."

Now it was Wolf's turn to flush.

"It's not like it's something I make a habit of," he grumbled.

"I hope you don't mind that I crashed on your sofa for the night, I was worried about you."

"Not a problem," said Wolf, now gulping down the last of the orange juice and actually feeling human again. Maybe there was something to all that talk of vitamins.

"If you want to borrow my phone and call your parents or anything, feel free," he said. "They must be worried about you."

"They won't be. I don't live with them."

"Oh, ok," said Wolf, trying to figure out what to say next. Suddenly Greg seemed cold and slightly angry. Fortunately for Wolf, the conversation was interrupted by Greg's phone ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the ID.

"Sorry," he sighed, "I've got to take this."

He left the room. Wolf hurriedly dressed and slipped out into the hall after him. He could hear Greg talking, the anger and frustration plain in his voice.

"Yes, I know I missed it... why?! Because they're not working! All you want me to do is sit there while you list all the things that are wrong with me when we both know that the only fucking problem is one that you can't fix!"

Wolf wondered what the 'problem' was, but guessed that Greg wouldn't say – who would?

Greg was speaking again. "Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said, sullenly.

Slowly, Wolf walked into the living room.

"You, err, want some breakfast?" he asked.

"Love to, can't," said Greg, scowling. "I've got a doctor's appointment."

So that was what he missed, mused Wolf.

"That sucks," he commiserated. "Anything important?"

"Nah, just a check up," said Greg, waving away Wolf's concern.

Just a check up, my arse, thought Wolf.

Out loud, he said, "Ok, you want a lift?"

Briefly, he wondered why he was being so nice, but he guessed that Greg had seen him home the night before. If he hadn't, Wolf would probably have woken up on the street or in a police station. Taking Greg to the doctor's was the least he could do.

"Nah, it's ok," replied Greg. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll take the tube."

It only took five minutes after Greg had left for the truth to hit home, again.

Cub was dead.

***

A/N: Read and Review. Feed the hungry author!