Alex thought of what Wolf had said. This whole time, Alex knew K unit were trying to help. He knew that, but still a part of him didn't want their help.
Alex thought back to his time on the roof. He'd thought then that he didn't want K units help due to a lack of trust, but that wasn't it at all. He didn't trust MI6, and he didn't want the help of any intelligence agency.
K unit, however, had proved themselves to be different. The whole of the SAS had shown Alex that they were different, that they were better. Maybe it took some time, and there where a few hiccup's down the road, but the SAS had good people. Alex trusted them.
So no, Alex realized, it wasn't a lack of trust that kept Alex from asking for help; it was the opposite. Alex trusted K unit too much, and he knew the feeling was mutual. K unit had just started seeing him as the spy he was, seeing that he could handle himself. And because K unit trusted him, Alex wanted to be someone trustworthy. He wanted to be strong and skilled and everything that he usually was.
Only problem is that he wasn't. He wasn't strong or skilled at the moment, and he didn't want K unit to see that. He didn't want to lose their trust, to go back to a child in their eyes.
So as a solution, he put up a facade.
He couldn't help but want to them to see him as opaquely as possible. He had to remind himself that he was not transparent, he was a Spy, a Veteran, a Survivor.
But, Alex thought, he is also a child. He hates it because he doesn't particularly think or feel like one, but still he feels like that is what's causing all of these inconsistencies.
It was one a.m. when James Lance's phone went off.
"Alex?"
"Yeah, hi. Sorry about the hour. I was wondering, do you have any open sessions for today?"
"Umm, ah, one second," Lance scrambled out of bed, pulling his planner out of his bedside table.
"Ah, yes, I have a free session this morning. 9:30 to 11. Does that work?"
"Yeah perfect, I'll see you then. Oh and Dr. Lance?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks."
The dial tone rung in his ear, and he flopped heartily back onto his bed. This kid could very well be the death of him.
"When was the last time you slept?"
"Well, I slept last night."
"You called me at one a.m."
"Well," Alex blushed slightly, "I didn't sleep all last night."
Lance made a note, "how long would you say you slept?"
"I don't know," Alex rubbed the back of his neck.
"Maybe 2 hours? I kept waking up."
Lance hummed, "when was the last time you slept for at least 6 hours?"
Alex shifted, clearly uncomfortable.
"Five nights ago? Or maybe six? While I was still in Britain."
"And before that?"
"I don't know. I can't remember. I can't remember anything. I can't think straight."
"That's what happens when you're severely sleep deprived."
"I don't- I'm trying, I just- God, I just want to sleep," Alex's voice cracked at the end. He took a deep breath and exhaled roughly. "I am trying."
"I know," Lance replied calmly, "but we can do better." He wrote a few more things down.
"Okay, do you want to keep talking about your sleeping problem, or should we move onto your alcohol problem?"
"Neither," Alex said brokenly.
"Why did you come here, then?"
The kid pushed up his aviators and rubbed his temples with each hand. He seemed to debate whether he wanted to confess something or not.
"I have flashbacks. Hallucinations."
"Oh. Okay. That's a common side effect of sleep deprivation."
"I almost shot someone in my unit. I didn't even know I had a gun."
"That... is not a common side effect."
"I just- I had a nightmare, and I woke up. I had my gun and I was shooting before I even realized."
Lance asked his next question carefully, "What was the nightmare about?"
For a second, he didn't think Alex would answer. But it seemed that the kid had finally come to terms with the fact that he needed to talk about these things to get better.
"My last mission, I was infiltrating a corrupt government in Morocco. Their army was picking up street kids, training them. Nothing I haven't seen a hundred times before. I got taken to the training base for kids, the oldest was 18, the youngest was no older than 12. But they made me, no clue how, even now. They chased me around Rabat, but I managed to give them the slip. I had already got enough information, the schematics of the place, number of soldiers and so on. SAS stormed the place. Most of the kids stood down pretty fast. I ran out of non-lethal weapons so I went to sweep the compound," Alex blinked back tears, now that he'd started to talk, he didn't seem able to stop, "I don't really remember what happened, there was a lot of gunfire. We tried not to hurt the kids, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. I remember I was trying to get to a room where they held the youngest kids, but someone blocked it. A boy, maybe 16, with a gun held to a little girl's head and I just- I just can't-" He took another big, shuddering breath. "She died. She died, and I was there, and I told her she was going to be okay, I promised. God, I promised her."
He wiped a hand under his aviators.
"The boy shot her, and I didn't even think. I pulled the trigger, and I killed him. He was a kid. Practically Hitler Youth. The girl died and I shot. He was a kid. A child soldier. Forced into service and I shot him and I don't- I can't- I can't sleep and I can't eat and I just- I'm just so tired. And I can't keep anything down and I just-"
He took a few calming breaths.
"I couldn't save those two kids. Two out of dozens, not a bad statistic I'm told; but those two kids are on me. My fault. And the nightmares aren't just about them, there's another boy too. His name was Julius Grief, he was surgically altered to look just like me. I shot him too, years ago. I shot him dead in the streets. I never used to regret it, but after killing that kid- I- I," Alex sniffed, "I can't help but think that Julius was like the kid. He didn't get a say in who he was, he was trained from birth. And I shot him dead in the streets. He was born into it. He was a soldier as much as that kid was. I killed them both."
By now, Alex was barely talking in a whisper. His voice portrayed just how broken he was.
"Just make it go away. I just- I- I just want to sleep. Just, give me something to help me sleep?"
He took another breath and looked up at Lance.
"It doesn't work like that, Alex," he said quietly.
The kid choked out a humorless laugh.
"I know."
They spoke together for the remainder of the session. Alex's problems were far from fixed, but the foundation had been laid. Alex promised that he would stay for another couple of weeks, to continue their therapy sessions.
That was progress in itself.
When Alex left, Lance looked over the notes he'd collected. He sighed, thinking back on the nightmare Alex had had.
He probably didn't even know the full extent of why that mission had messed him up so bad. Why it had triggered the memory of Julius, bringing his world crashing around him.
A child soldier. Forced into service. He didn't get a say in who he was, he was trained from birth. And I shot him dead in the street. The boy soldier, Julius Grief.
They were him, they were just like him. They were everything Alex was afraid to become.
Next: you can't fix your future without looking at your past.
