A/N: Erm... not much to say, really. You're going to kill me when you read what I wrote over the weekend... luckily that's not for quite few chapters... but anyway...
DISLCIAMER: Not mine.
WARNINGS: non-recreational drug abuse. Slash. Underage Sex (not shown). No Flames about anything written here. I'm warning you for a reason!
***
"Alex," greeted the assassin as if a man came back to life every day.
"I thought you were dead."
"Obviously you were mistaken," said the assassin. "Come here."
Alex knew he shouldn't approach Yassen. He knew he should head the other way, towards the open door to his left.
"Alex," said Yassen warningly. "Don't make me ask you again. You don't like it when I'm angry."
He gave a small, uncontrollable whimper and crossed to Yassen's side.
"That's it," said Yassen, reaching out and caressing Alex's cheek. It was so different from the punishments that he couldn't understand it. Part of him was whispering about brainwashing and behavioural conditioning but he ignored it and leaned into the comfort in the touch. It felt so good.
"Close your eyes," said Yassen and Alex obeyed.
"Good boy," said Yassen softly, still gently stroking the side of his face. "Now I need you to stay still and relax, ok?"
Alex nodded and felt the prick of a needle. Immediately the small part of him still uneasy calmed.
"Good," said Yassen. "Soon we're not going to need this at all, are we?"
Alex shook his head, not quite understanding what Yassen was talking about, but knowing the correct response anyway.
"You must be hungry," said Yassen. "You've not had any real food in a while, have you?"
Again Alex shook his head.
"Sit down here and I'll fetch you something," said Yassen, kindly.
"Thank you," said Alex, sitting on the bed. Yassen disappeared through the door.
Alex looked around the room. The door was still open. He wasn't tied up. The window was open and he could see the top of a lamp post outside it.
He didn't move.
***
Wolf was surprised when Greg curled into him. He wouldn't have thought the boy was a cuddler from the way he acted, but it was undeniably nice to feel one hand gently curl around his bicep and the weight of the teen's head resting on his shoulder.
It was the leg that was causing him problems. Casually draped over him and inserted between his thighs, it was incredibly intimate and Wolf was finding it increasingly difficult not to wake the man up and ravish him, despite having spent the last three and a half hours doing exactly that.
He'd chickened out of mentioning Greg's scars. None of them looked newer than about half a year, had obviously been well tended to and the kid never mentioned them. Maybe he should just let the past stay in the past.
He sighed and turned his head to look at the blond. He looked curiously innocent when he was asleep, sweet almost. You would never think his personality was so self-assured or confident.
He wrapped his arm around Greg's waist, relishing the feel of his smooth skin under his hand. Pulling the blanket over them both, he drifted off to sleep.
***
It was Greg's phone that woke them. As he gained consciousness, Greg automatically pulled away, quickly becoming an independent, confident young man who didn't rely on anyone or anything. Wolf wasn't even sure if the man even knew he did it.
He growled in annoyance and swung his legs out of bed as Greg cursed under his breath and reached out for the buzzing mobile.
"I'll make us some coffee," said Wolf and Greg nodded before answering the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Nurse Rosalie. I am calling concerning your brother, Yuri?"
"What about him?" asked Greg, worriedly.
"He woke up last night."
"Thank you for telling me," said Greg. "I'll be over as soon as visiting hours start."
"Good news?" asked James as he walked into the kitchen.
Greg nodded. "Yuri's woken up. I don't have all the details, but I'll go see him later."
James nodded amiably and passed Greg a mug of coffee.
Greg wrinkled his nose at the black liquid.
"Got any milk?" he asked.
Wolf rolled his eyes. "Sacrilege," he muttered exasperatedly as he pulled the milk bottle from the fridge and passed it to Greg.
"Sugar?" he asked. Greg shook his head.
"Well that's something at least," said Wolf, sourly, and Greg smiled.
"Do you want me to make breakfast?" offered Greg.
James raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You can cook?"
"Apparently," said Greg, dryly. It was another skill he wasn't quite sure where he learnt. "How do you feel about omelette?"
***
Breakfast was surprisingly relaxed and disturbingly domestic, considering that Wolf was a soldier and Greg... well, Greg's idea of a home was a rundown flat that was always noisy, cold and damp with a landlord that was more likely to get arrested for armed robbery and drug dealing than try to fix the damage.
"What time do visiting hours start?" asked Wolf, as Greg poured himself a second cup of coffee and slipped an omelette and some grilled tomatoes onto a plate for the older man.
"Ten, unless it's an emergency. I mean, obviously they aren't going to kick you out if they're in emergency surgery or anything... but yeah, generally ten."
"So how did you meet what's-his-name... Yuri?"
Greg laughed slightly. "I'd discharged myself from hospital. I was terrified some do-gooder would try and put me in a home so I just left before they had a chance. Course, I then had the problem of where to stay. It was wet and cold and raining and the clothes I'd been wearing when I was taken to hospital weren't exactly warm. I thought I'd probably get taken back to hospital for pneumonia within twenty four hours of getting out, it was so bad..."
The street was dark already, and Greg tucked his hands into his armpits in a vague attempt to keep them warm. Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital after all.
He turned down a narrow alley, in a vain hope that the high walls would act as a barrier against the wind. It didn't happen. It actually emphasised the wind, acting as a funnel and now the air was roaring all around him. He sighed and made to turn when someone called out to him.
"Hey, kid, what are you doing down here?"
Greg paused.
"Is there a reason I shouldn't be down here?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"I'll say," said the man, well, boy really: he didn't look much older than Greg. "This is my territory. You want to come here, you do as I say."
Greg eyed him up and raised an eyebrow. "And what's so special that I would bother?" he asked.
"Nothing," said a voice from behind Greg and the blond turned around. "He just likes to feel important."
"Shove off, Yuri," said the man. "This is none of your business."
"No, I think we both know very well what my business is," said Yuri dryly, "but this is just pathetic. What exactly did you plan on doing to him if he wouldn't leave? Beating up people is too much like hard work for you."
"Well at least I'm not a whore," spat the man.
"No, you'd never get any customers," said Yuri smartly and Greg suppressed a laugh.
The man snarled and lunged at Yuri, but Greg stuck out a foot and he went sprawling.
Yuri laughed and turned to him. "Not seen you around here before," he said.
Greg shrugged. "Just got out of hospital."
"You got a place to stay?"
Greg shook his head.
"I know a place," Yuri admitted. "It's still cold, but it's relatively dry, and it blocks the wind. Two bodies will keep it warmer than one. You in?"
Greg shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything better.
"Sure."
"Wait a minute," interrupted Wolf, "You lived on the streets?"
Greg shrugged. "Only for a couple of months. It was better than getting sucked into the system. It's not so bad if you have people looking out for you."
Wolf gaped, momentarily left speechless until another question nudged its way forward.
"What were you in hospital for?" he asked.
"What is this, the Spanish inquisition?" asked Greg, dryly. "I don't actually remember anything about the accident" –or anything before it, he added silently – "but they told me I fell off the roof of a building."
Wolf winced. "Sounds painful."
"I'll say," said Greg, sourly. "So what about you? What's your most painful experience?"
"Getting shot," admitted Wolf.
"Ouch," said Greg, inhaling in sympathy. "I think you've got me beat hands down. How did it happen?"
"It's happened twice, actually. Once in Iraq, and once in the French Alps."
"The Alps?" said Greg, his voice sounded kind of distant to his own ears. "How on earth did you manage that? It's hardly a warzone."
"We were back up for MI6." – they were late, as always – "Some creepy school master was abducting the kids" – bugs under a microscope – dissection – snow and bullets – "look, I don't think I'm allowed to tell you this, if I'm honest," said Wolf, looking up from his coffee.
"Hey," he said after a moment. "Are you ok? You look kind of pale..."
Greg shook himself, firmly. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Just tired is all. Look, I really need to get going. I'm working at lunch and if I want to see Yuri before then, then I need to pick up a change of clothes for work. I- I'll see you soon, ok?"
Wolf nodded, and Greg left the flat, barely noting Wolf's goodbye.
What on earth was that? His hands were shaking with nerves and he had to fight to keep his breathing steady. He sat down for a moment on the stairs to calm himself down. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, he ran over what had happened. It still made no sense. Those images... those memories couldn't belong to him.
It must just be over active imagination. He sighed and stood up. If he wanted to visit Yuri, he really did have to get going.
***
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