A/N: Wow, a 7000 word chapter with a relatively short update period. Be proud! Thank you so much for all the reviews – I wish I had time to reply to them all, because some of them really made me smile (particularly prone2dementia's – thank you!), but you'll probably appreciate the quicker update more. I'm quite happy with this chapter. Let me know what you think.

(Incidentally, the last update was only halfway through my holiday. My break's actually 6 weeks long. NOW how jealous are you?)

Chapter 12

Two days later, Alex sat on the edge of the hospital bed, fully dressed, feeling physically tired but mentally alert. His insides still felt like someone had dragged a cheese grater through them, and his banging headache refused to go away. He'd never been poisoned before, but he was absolutely certain he didn't want it to happen again. It didn't even vaguely resemble the scene from that Bond film – Casino Royale, was it? – where Bond was poisoned, had his heart restarted, and was instantly back in good health. Someone should probably have informed the producers how misleading that portrayal was.

It was December 23rd now – two days before Christmas. Alex wondered if he'd have time to go shopping when he got back. He stared out of the window, watching the snow flutter past. Perhaps he'd leave it until tomorrow.

"Alex." Alex recognised the voice, but turned his head anyway out of politeness. His doctor stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard and wearing the same easy smile he always did, though Alex could tell it was well-practised. Dr. Duffy's eyes betrayed him as he entered the room, surveying Alex with a mixture of disapproval, curiosity and something akin to sadness. In fact, it was remarkably close to the look Wolf was giving him these days. Why did everyone think he had to be pitied?

"So are you looking forward to going home?" Dr. Duffy asked him, looking down at the clipboard he was holding.

Alex wasn't sure he wanted to think of Wolf's flat as 'home', and even if he did, he wasn't at all convinced he wanted to go back there anyway, but he settled his face into a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

Dr. Duffy smiled and set down his clipboard, picking up an arm cuff attached by a lead to a blood pressure monitor. "Hold out your arm, please. I'll just run some tests and you should be good to go. Providing they're all fine, of course." He winked.

Wolf appeared as Dr. Duffy was finishing his tests. He hovered rather awkwardly in the doorway, clearly trying to avoid staring at Alex. Alex had got up an hour beforehand, and taken a long hot shower in the room's ensuite. He knew he looked a lot better than he had the last few days.

"It looks like everything's absolutely fine – good, in fact," Alex's doctor announced, picking his clipboard up again and making a few notes. "You might feel tired for the next day or two, but get some sleep and you'll be fine." He looked sternly over his glasses. "I hope not to see you too soon, again, Alex. You're making a habit of it." He smiled, nodded to Wolf, and left the room.

Alex stood up slowly, and looked at Wolf, who was giving him a hard look now.

"Ready to go?" Alex asked.

"'You're making a habit of it'?" Wolf said. "What was that about?"

Alex shrugged. Wolf had asked him a lot of questions while he'd been in hospital, and he hadn't answered any of them, his replies ranging from noncommittal, to ignoring the question, to – once – telling Wolf straight he was tired and didn't want to talk about his life with MI6. None of them had put Wolf off his questioning, but this time, he just pursed his lips, seemingly wanting to avoid an argument.

How unlike him, Alex thought dryly as he followed Wolf out of the room. In fact, the man remained completely silent all the way to his car, barely looking at Alex. Was he absorbed by something? Sitting in the passenger seat as Wolf drove, Alex opened his mouth to ask – very tentatively – what had been happening whilst he'd been in hospital, when Wolf started speaking.

"So are you looking forward to Christmas?"

Alex was well-trained enough not to let his mouth drop open in shock, but it was a close call. It took him a few seconds to find his voice.

"Er – I guess." He'd tried not to think too much about Christmas Day, actually. In years past, it had been the three of them – he, Jack, and Ian; Ian always made it back for Christmas – the only day he ever made an effort. Now Ian was dead. Jack was in America. It was just him. And who – MI6 and their associates?

"You can come and stay with me for Christmas, if you want," Tom had offered. "There might be a risk of a plate colliding with your head, or the turkey being thrown out of the window, but the offer's there..."

Alex had a suspicion Sabina's would be just as bad. He wasn't sure, anyway, that he wanted to celebrate Christmas. Christmas could be interpreted or celebrated a number of ways – as a Christian festival, as a family time, or just as a time to be thankful. Alex wasn't too sure about his religious beliefs, he didn't have a family anymore, and the only thing he was grateful for this year was that he was still alive. What a thing to celebrate, he thought bitterly.

"I was training in the army last Christmas," Wolf said, apparently realising Alex wasn't going to say anything else. "Got told my application for SAS had been successful on Christmas Eve."

"Must've been a good Christmas."

"Yeah..." Wolf pulled up next to the curb, took the car out of gear, put on the handbrake and switched off the engine. "Until I had to get up for shooting training at five o'clock on Christmas Day."

Alex gave a small smile, glad, at least, that Wolf hadn't revealed a secret history for spending time with family at Christmas. He thought he'd take Tom's or Sabina's – heck, even Alan Blunt – over spending Christmas with Wolf and the people who had spawned Wolf. It was odd, Alex thought as he got out of the car, to think of Wolf with a family. The man seemed so...isolated. In fact, he'd be prepared to put money on the fact Wolf was alone too.

Still feeling tired, and resolving to take a nap when he got through the front door, Alex failed to notice the fact there were multiple footprints – not all of the same size or pattern – leading up and down the steps to the basement flat, or the fine green pine needles lying on the snow outside the door. Nor did he notice the way the curtains were drawn in the front window, even though it was late morning. He waited while Wolf found his key and opened the door, and then followed him inside.

It was the smell that first gave it away.

The hallway looked the same, but upon entering the flat, Alex's nostrils were immediately assaulted by the unmistakable smell of pine. He looked down to see green needles on the carpet, leading from the front door to...

Alex moved towards the sitting room. As his entered, this time, he was unable to stop himself from gaping.

In the corner of the room stood a large Christmas tree – so large the top had clearly had to be cut off so it would fit. It was covered in lights, tinsel and multicoloured baubles, and someone had fixed fairy lights to the wall, leading all around the room. A moving Santa Claus – which, to Alex, looked slightly sinister – had been placed in another corner. Alex's gaze moved around the room in shock, finally settling on the three grinning men sitting on the sofa.

"Do you like it?" Ben was the first to speak. "We had a lousy Christmas last year in the army, so we wanted to be a bit more festive this year..."

"What," came a growl from behind Alex, "have you done to my flat?"

"Decorated it!" Snake told him cheerfully.

"We agreed a tree. With some white lights. You've turned this into...some sort of Christmas shop. Is that – tinsel?"

Alex had to stifle a laugh. Wolf couldn't sound less amused.

"Oh calm down, Wolf," said Ben lazily, leaning back on the sofa. "I know you hate entering into the spirit of things, but I think we all need an excuse to be cheerful this year."

"Now come on, Wolfie," Eagle piped up, "you haven't told us what you want for Christmas yet." He and Snake looked gleeful. Alex stared. Were these really the men who just a fortnight before had barely been on speaking terms?

"I told you: I don't do Christmas," Wolf muttered with a glare.

"Nonsense." Ben flashed an easy smile in Alex's direction. "Don't listen to him; he's already decided what your present will be."

Wolf's glare intensified. Had that glare belonged to any one of his former opponents intent on killing him in the worst way possible, Alex was sure he'd be a quivering wreck. A present, though? He shifted uncomfortably. He barely knew these men; he didn't want presents. In fact – hadn't he made up his mind? He didn't want Christmas either.

"It's all right," he said, "you don't have to get me anything."

"A fourteen year-old who's not excited about Christmas?" Eagle looked disbelieving. "Are you serious?"

Alex felt a spark of irritation, but forced it down. He didn't want to pick a fight with Eagle – the man had saved his life. But what did they honestly think he had to celebrate?

"I'm pretty tired," he said, when he realised Eagle – and everyone else – was still waiting for an answer. "Sorry. The tree looks great – the whole room does. But I think I'll just have a nap for a while if you don't mind."

"See?" he heard Wolf hiss from the living room as he made his way to his room. "I told you this was a bad plan."

"It wasn't only for Cub, you idiot..."

Alex paused with his hand on the doorknob, his stomach clenching. Even if he hadn't only been for him, it implied he'd had something to do with it, and he'd just – what, rejected them? Had they just been trying to cheer him up, make sure he was having a good Christmas?

"You really think this unit's going to bond over Christmas?" Wolf's voice was a sneer.

"Christmas is a bonding time!"

Shaking his head and silently berating himself, Alex entered his room and let the door close softly behind him.

It took five minutes for Ben to knock on his door.

Alex was lying on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his body exhausted but his thoughts bouncing around his skull. He wanted to get excited about Christmas, but he just felt indifference. Was this the fault of MI6? Or the inevitable consequence of having no family at Christmas?

Three knocks again. Alex knew it was Ben. Anyone else would have just entered when he didn't answer.

"Yeah, come in," he said, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position as Ben came in. He closed the door behind him and then stood, meeting Alex's gaze.

"Hey," he said. His expression, as usual, was unreadable. "Just thought I'd come and see if you really are tired or you need to chat." His tone wasn't patronising, and Alex felt a rush of gratitude towards him. Somehow Ben always managed to make talking seem like a good idea. Was that what made him a good spy? Was he treating Alex the way he'd treat a suspect he needed to squeeze answers from? Alex gave himself a mental shake. He was becoming far too suspicious.

"I'm all right," he said. "Why would I need to talk?"

Ben sat down on Alex's desk chair. Alex had a sense of déjà-vu. He suspected Ben had sat down to put him at ease, but he felt on edge, nervous. He wasn't sure he wanted a heart to heart with Ben.

"You tell me," he said. "I can come up with a thousand reasons. Christmas being right up there along with the fact someone's – or some people are – trying to kill you."

"Uh, that last one not so much, strangely," Alex said, and couldn't hide a small smile. "I mean, it's all right. I'll just be careful. Or MI6 will."

Ben forced a smile, but Alex could see the frown deep in his eyes, even if his brow didn't betray it. "And Christmas?"

Alex shrugged, standing up and crossing the room. He wondered for a second what had drawn him there, before realising he'd placed a photograph of himself and Ian on holiday on top of the chest of drawers a few days before. Alex stared at it for a second, before turning back to face Ben, who was giving him a penetrating look.

"Well, I spent last Christmas with my uncle and my housekeeper," Alex rapped out. "Happily oblivious to all this...MI6 stuff. Now it's just me, and I'm going to spend Christmas with the SAS – and an MI6 agent," he added. "I mean, no offence, but it kind of dampens the party spirit, no?"

Ben ran a hand back through his hair, and tried to disguise it, but Alex still caught the pity in his gaze.

"I don't want sympathy," he said quickly. "I just – want you to understand."

Ben nodded, but remained silent for several minutes. Alex's eyes wandered over the rest of the room, suddenly missing his uncle's house in Chelsea. This room wasn't his. It was Wolf's spare room. Just a room he was staying in – temporarily or permanently, he wasn't sure.

"I meant what I said," Ben said at last, and Alex's gaze snapped back to Ben's face. "I think Christmas could be good for all of us – every one of us needs some cheering up this year. No one really feels like it, but we all recognise we need to make the effort. It doesn't help wallowing in misery."

"Yeah, because Wolf's the shining example of that particular piece of advice," Alex said sourly.

"Wolf just...takes some persuasion. But, I mean, Eagle hates Christmas – does everything he can to avoid celebrating it – but even he recognises it's important this year. And I think – I think it's important that you're there too."

"Me?" Alex frowned. "Why should I matter? I'm just making things worse – you heard them after I left the room."

Ben smiled – genuinely this time – as if he was laughing at some private joke. Alex couldn't understand why. "You know, for one of MI6's most successful agents, you do have a tendency to miss the obvious."

Alex just looked at him, waiting for a real answer.

Ben sighed. "Put it this way: before you arrived, that unit was a disaster. You saw them when you first arrived – Eagle and Wolf weren't speaking, none of them had anything to say to one another and all of them were on dangerous ground. Now they're planning to spend Christmas Day together. You've given them something to focus on other than themselves." He stood up. "Think about it for a while." And with another strange smile, he left the room.

Alex just watched the door close behind him, speechless. Wolf had tended to act as though Alex was an inconvenience rather than any sort of saviour. Was it possible trying to figure Alex out had given him some sort of direction? Alex couldn't help but smile at the idea of this being suggested to Wolf. Still...the whole thing seemed hard to believe. He hadn't done much aside from cause trouble: catching Wolf having nightmares; coming close to failing Science; being caught with a gun; being poisoned.

Alex walked back over to his bed, and lay down again, trying not to think about it. If what Ben said was true, he would celebrate Christmas – to help K unit. But nothing else. He wouldn't celebrate it for himself, and he certainly wouldn't be happy about it.

"So?" Snake asked as soon as Ben entered the room again. Ben rolled his eyes and shut the living room door behind him. Alex had ears like a bat.

"I don't know," he said. "I think he feels he's not got much to celebrate."

"Yeah, because we obviously have," Wolf said dryly.

"Maybe we should all just be thankful we're alive and reasonably healthy," Eagle snapped. Ben could already see the warning signs of Eagle under stress. He wished Alex had been more forthcoming and just agreed Christmas should be celebrated this year.

"It could be worse," Snake agreed.

"It could much b – "

Wolf was cut off by a loud knock at the front door. Seeing Wolf and Eagle glaring at one another, Ben let out a sigh and went to answer it.

It was Jackal.

Ben considered himself fairly tall and athletic, but Jackal somehow still towered over him and seemed at least twice as well built. Ben wasn't intimidated, but the last time he'd seen Jackal he'd knocked him out and left him lying in the snow; he wouldn't be surprised if Jackal wanted revenge.

To his surprise, however, the man gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement. "Is Wolf in?"

"Uh...yeah," Ben said tentatively as the sound of raised voices reached his ears again, and he looked back towards the living room.

"This was your bright idea."

"Well, your only objection, as I seem to recall, was that you didn't want a tree that was too large."

Ben's eyes slid back to Jackal, who looked exasperated. For a second, Ben felt something akin to respect for the man – finally, a member of K unit who didn't want to argue – until he remembered the way he'd behaved towards Alex, and it was gone, buried.

Still, he thought as he moved aside to let Jackal pass, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the SAS member if you took all of his behaviour into account. Eagle insisted the man had a violent temper – and certainly, the way he'd lashed out at Alex had been indicative of that – but on an earlier occasion, Alex had been deliberately goading him, and the man had just let it go. Snake had told him privately Jackal seemed the only grounded member of the team right now – the only reasonable member – yet half the time he spoke, Ben couldn't understand where he was coming from. He shut the door, shaking his head. He'd left K unit now; it really didn't matter.

When he entered the living room behind Jackal, he discovered perhaps relations between K unit did still matter. Wolf and Eagle were standing perhaps six feet apart, facing one another, glaring. Their whole body language screamed both 'defensive' and 'angry'; Eagle's arms were crossed one over the other across his chest, and Wolf's hands were balled into tight fists. Snake still sat on the sofa, looking between the two of them.

"With all due respect, Wolf, what made you think I wanted to spend Christmas Day with a bad tempered, lonely guy?" Eagle spat out after a few seconds, apparently deciding that he didn't care who was presented.

"Lonely?" Wolf spluttered. His eyes bulged and he tightened his fists – Ben saw a vein bulge in his forearm leading all the way up to his elbow. "I'm not lonely. Trust me, I'm far better off without you around."

"That's enough," Jackal said harshly, stepping forward. Eagle and Wolf both took a step apart, looking away – the way they would, Ben thought, if the Sergeant had reprimanded them for starting a brawl in the mess hall. But, something – something wasn't right with this. It should have been Wolf giving the orders, and the Wolf Ben knew when he'd been in K unit hardly would have stood for someone other than the Sergeant telling him what to do. Ben's eyes narrowed. What had changed between Ben's time with K unit and now?

You know what's different, a little voice reminded him. You just don't want to accept it's truly changed any of them.

"How do you think we're going to get back to training if we carry on like this?" Jackal continued. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, because the Sergeant and Jones can obviously see us right this minute," Eagle said sarcastically.

"I think you'd be surprised," Jackal said, and his gaze flickered for a second to Ben, before moving away again. Ben gritted his teeth. Jackal really thought he'd discuss his friends' troubles with the heads of Special Operations?

"We need to start working as a team." Jackal's gaze moved between Wolf and Eagle, and a couple of times to Snake. "Even if we go back to training now, we're not going to be sent on service for at least another month. And I don't know about you, but I want to get back to my job."

Ben had expected murmurs of agreement, but only Snake nodded. Ben thought he saw something flash in Wolf's eyes – was it fear? – but it was gone so quickly, it might have been imagined. Eagle's face remained blank.

"Of course I want to get back to training," he snapped. "But I don't need to be lectured like I'm a five year-old."

"Perhaps you should stop behaving like one," Jackal said coolly.

Ben's mouth nearly dropped at the audacity of this statement, and, knowing Eagle's temper, he braced himself for the punch that was inevitably to follow. But to his surprise, Eagle's arms just dropped from their folded position, his whole body completely relaxed, the only sign of emotion an utter expression of disdain written across his face.

"Did you just come here to lecture us, Jackal," he asked, "or was there an actual reason?"

Jackal met Eagle's gaze for nearly half a minute without speaking. Ben had to admire his nerve – staring into Eagle's glare was a feat that could make even the hardest of men break.

"Actually," he said slowly, drawing out his words, "I came to tell you I've heard word on the street we could be going back to training soon."

That shocked Eagle enough into silence. Wolf just gaped. Ben could understand – who on earth had decided K unit was ready to be sent back to training – and then into the field? Only Snake spoke.

"Thank God for that," he said. "About flipping time."

"Where did you hear this from? When are we going?" Wolf rapped out, suddenly back in control. His mouth was set in a hard line, a muscle in his neck twitching. Ben couldn't work out if he was happy about this news or angry.

Jackal shrugged. "I don't know when we're going. I heard word from a contact of mine in SO. Said Blunt and Jones have requested our files for review."

"So we don't know for certain we're going back yet?" Wolf pressed.

"Not for certain," Jackal conceded. "My contact did say he thought the heads' minds had already been made up, though."

"God help us," Eagle muttered, shaking his head – fairly out of character, Ben thought, considering he wasn't religious. Desperate times call for desperate measures?

They were all silent for a few minutes, digesting this new piece of information. Ben was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear Alex's door open, or the boy's footsteps, until Alex appeared next to him, looking apprehensive. He gave a slight nod in Ben's direction, though he didn't really seem to see him, his gaze moving quickly around the room, resting on Jackal just a few more seconds than the others, before it returned to Eagle and Wolf, looking between them.

"Hey, Cub," Eagle said, the first to speak. Ben chanced a look at Jackal, who was looking distinctly disinterested now Alex had arrived.

"Hey," Alex said quietly. He ran a hand back through his hair. Ben wondered if he always did that when he felt awkward. "I just thought – you went to a lot of trouble to put this stuff up, and...yeah. It looks nice. Er...maybe Christmas won't be that bad?" There was a note of uncertainty at the end as he looked between Eagle and Wolf. Of course, he couldn't have failed to hear their argument.

"No, it won't be," Snake said, nodding. "Like Ben said – I think we could all do with cheering up this year."

Jackal cleared his throat. There was a split second pause, before Ben realised they hadn't even mentioned Christmas Day to him. He opened his mouth, but Eagle was shooting daggers at him, and by the time Ben had moved his gaze back to Jackal, the man was already speaking.

"I have to get going," he said. "Just wanted to pass on the news." His tone was cool, no hint that he was angry or hurt. Good acting? Ben studied his face. Jackal didn't look as though he was affected in any way by the revelation his teammates had been planning Christmas without him. Ben found this hard to fathom. He would have been devastated in the same position.

"See you later," Snake said. "Maybe we can organise a drink or something tomorrow? I'll call you...perhaps," he added, his voice trailing off as Jackal left the room without saying anything. They heard the front door slam.

"Do you think he's angry?" Snake asked immediately.

Eagle snorted. "I don't care. I'm not spending Christmas with him. I draw the line."

"Well, it looks like you're going to have to spend a lot of time with him soon," Ben pointed out. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex frown. Of course – he'd missed Jackal's news. Probably no need to mention it yet, until they knew for certain. Ben wasn't entirely sure what Blunt and Jones were planning to do with Alex. Perhaps he could offer to give him a place to stay.

"Yeah, well, this'll be my last opportunity to be Jackass-free, won't it?" Eagle said. He collapsed onto the sofa next to Snake, looking deep in thought. "I'm sorry, Wolf," he said, after a moment. "Don't know what came over me. Just saw red. Truce?" That was the thing with Eagle – quick to anger, but usually almost as quick to forgive and apologise.

Wolf nodded curtly. "Truce." The closest Wolf ever got to an apology, Ben thought with some amusement. Though the tension was gone from the room, now, though, and although it looked as if they'd all be spending Christmas together, he still felt a tingling of apprehension. Going back to training was a big deal – as Jackal had said, going back to training meant a month until deployment abroad.

Were K unit really ready for this?

"They're ready."

Alan Blunt looked up at Mrs. Jones with a completely blank expression that, as usual, she couldn't read, but, on this occasion, she didn't need to try. She looked down at the file on her lap.

"Showing signs of improvement, but I would recommend a further six sessions, with another assessment following..."

"Still shows signs of depression, though appears to be more able now to focus on those around him..."

"Admits still to the occasional nightmare..."

"My report remains the same as it did at the beginning: the patient is not in need of counselling...shows few to no signs of post-traumatic disorder..."

The last one regarded Jackal. Mrs. Jones wasn't concerned about him; he hadn't spent very much time with K unit before they had been deployed to Iraq, and, he'd never shown any signs of having been seriously affected. The other reports, however, gave her reason to doubt her superior's assessment.

"Remains unwilling to discuss the matter...appears to be pretending nothing has happened..."

"Insists he is sleeping normally but still shows signs of exhaustion..."

"The patient was unusually bad-tempered this afternoon..."

The counsellors' reports were undoubtedly a thousand times better than they had been a month before – Mrs. Jones swallowed at the memory of them. But these weren't the sort of reports she liked to see before she sent agents back to the field. The Sergeant was relying on their judgement. She didn't see why the standards for SAS soldiers should be any lower than for MI6 agents.

"Perhaps we should give them a few more weeks, Alan," she said.

"There's no time," her superior said. Even his voice was devoid of emotion – no indication of the reasoning behind his words. Mrs. Jones tried again.

"Dr Patterson recommends a further six sessions on Wolf's report – that's just three weeks after Christmas. If we could just wait – "

"There's no time," Alan snapped. He reached for a thin silver staple sitting on the left hand side of his desk and started to bend it with one hand.

"I know the situation in Iraq needs looking at," she said quietly. "But – "

"Agent Clegg was killed last night," he reminded her. "That's the third agent we've lost in as many weeks. Monitoring it from London isn't working."

Mrs. Jones watched the staple bend under Alan's fingers with a heavy heart. "I just don't want to see more people killed unnecessarily. We owe more to our agents – and the British forces – than that."

"It's not unnecessary." The staple snapped in two, and Alan stood up abruptly, standing by the window and staring out of it. Mrs. Jones knew he never made decisions without a great deal of calculation, but sometimes even he sometimes miscalculated.

Admittedly he did have yet to overestimate a threat.

"Have you spoken to the Prime Minister about the situation?" she asked. "Would you like me to schedule a meeting?"

Alan glanced back at her before returning to staring down at the street below. "No. He wouldn't approve."

"The Foreign Secretary?"

She saw Alan purse his lips. If they were to go ahead with this operation, strictly speaking they did need to inform the Foreign Secretary. Unfortunately, he had only recently been appointed and tended to be as uncooperative as the Prime Minister.

"No," he said at last. "Let's keep this quiet for now. Call Wolf in two days' time and inform him K unit will be returning to training on the twenty-ninth of December. Call the Sergeant today and tell him to expect them then."

"Is that all?"

Alan turned back to face her. "Did you receive Agent Daniel's report? I haven't seen it."

"It arrived an hour ago," Mrs. Jones said. "His doctor recommends more physiotherapy. The report says his reactions aren't as quick as they could be."

"I see."

Mrs. Jones couldn't tell if this information changed her superior's plans. She stood up to leave.

"We've got no further on who was targeting Alex Rider?" Alan suddenly asked.

Mrs. Jones turned back, already halfway out the door. "We've traced the poison back to Syria," she said. "No one's come forward. I have someone trailing Alex now he's been discharged."

Alan nodded, but his expression was grim. Mrs. Jones knew that he, like her, was unsettled by how clueless they were about who had been behind the poisoning. Usually after an assassination attempt someone came forward – and it was usually related to a mission the agent was deeply involved in at the time. Alex was involved in nothing. This looked like it was part of something much bigger – something they didn't entirely understand and they were therefore unable to control.

"Have Senior Agent Cutting come to see me, would you?" her superior said, turning back to the window. Mrs. Jones closed the office door behind her, and gave one last look down at the file she was holding.

"Admits to frequent conflicts with teammates..."

"Appears in denial..."

She heaved a sigh. She hoped Alan knew what he was doing, and that K unit were more ready than they appeared in their reports.

It was around midnight when Alex decided to take a break from his English Literature reading and get a glass of water. He set The Canterbury Tales down on his desk, folding over a corner so he didn't lose his page. The poetry was taking him even longer than the Shakespeare, and he was afraid, given the time he'd already spent in hospital, that he wouldn't have time to catch up during the holiday. English was the last subject he was still struggling with. Perhaps Mr. Grey wouldn't mind giving him a few extra hours at the start of next term.

Since it was late, he didn't particularly expect Wolf to still be up – Jack had always told him he was 'nocturnal' and Alex knew not everyone was the same – but when he entered the kitchen, he found Wolf sitting at the table, a glass of water in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot and he was staring into space. He didn't give any sign he'd noticed Alex, who quietly crossed the room and filled a glass from the tap.

"Wolf?" he asked tentatively after several long minutes of silence in which Wolf still hadn't acknowledged his presence.

No answer – no sign Wolf had even heard him.

Frowning, Alex set his glass down on the side, moved towards Wolf, and, after some hesitation, placed a hand on his shoulder. Wolf flinched, but other than that, there was no response.

"Are you all right?" Alex persisted.

Another long silence. Then: "Do I look fucking all right?" Wolf's voice was hoarse. Alex instinctively took a step backwards, but moved around so Wolf could see him. He took more notice of Wolf's appearance now – his eyes were bloodshot, but not red-rimmed; he'd not been crying. His pupils were unfocused, and his grip slightly slack on the glass, even as he lifted it and knocked it back.

Alex's eyes narrowed. No one drank water like that.

His suspicions were confirmed when Wolf heaved himself to his feet with a grunt and went to the fridge, pulling out a half-empty bottle of vodka and filling his glass again.

Neat vodka?

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Alex asked, not forcefully, testing Wolf's mood. To his surprise and slight unnerve Wolf threw back his head and gave a short, barking laugh.

"Let's imagine," he said, leaning against the fridge and taking a long gulp from the glass, "that MI6 have just informed you they're going to send you back into the field. And you know it's going to be suicidal to go."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "In that case, drinking heavily probably wouldn't be the best route to survival." He paused. "Are you being sent back into the field?"

"Back to training, so Jackal says. Dunno when, but soon." Wolf hand, balled up into a fist, hit the fridge door with a slam. "Whose bloody bright idea was it? Half the time we're barely civil and the other half we're ready to rip each other's throats out." He took another long gulp from the glass.

Alex remained silent for a few seconds, resisting the urge to grab the glass from Wolf's hand. He wasn't used to this; Ian had never touched alcohol, and Jack limited herself to the occasional glass of wine. "Maybe they think training will be good for bonding?" he suggested. "Better for you than being stuck at home." He paused again. "I thought you wanted to go back to training?"

"Yes. No. I thought so." Wolf drained his glass and casually tossed the glass into the sink. It shattered. Alex winced, but Wolf seemed unfazed. "Training's one thing, the field's another."

"Just – just think about the field like an extension of training," Alex said. Was he really trying to counsel Wolf? He'd been in some strange situations, but he wondered if this might trump them all; never had he imagined he would be giving Wolf advice on his job. "Besides, by the time you've been through training, you'll probably be ready to be back in the field."

"You really think I'll be ready for the horrors of the field again after running around a jungle for a few weeks? Don't you get it?"

"No, since you've never told me," Alex bit back. "I thought SAS training was supposed to prepare you in the best possible way for deployment. It's not just running around a jungle, is it?"

"Oh no." Wolf gave another short laugh. "Another week on refreshing skills in Hereford and a thirty-six hour resistance to interrogation exercise. Because that's really enough to prepare you if you really do undergo an interrogation."

Alex swallowed, rooted to the spot. "They can't prepare you for every scenario," he said quietly. "It's – that's why you were chosen. They thought you could cope with whatever you were thrown."

"Yeah, well, turns out I can't," Wolf snapped. "Just because you think you can cope with everything – being poisoned, whatever – you just don't get it. You're a spy. It's not the same being a soldier. When you're in a unit, you've got people to think about other than yourself."

Something snapped inside Alex. He wondered later why he did; perhaps he was tired, not quite in control of his emotions and thoughts. "You think I only think about myself? Let's just take a look at the two of us, Wolf. You made my life hell at Brecon Beacons, but here I am trying to persuade you to go back to training. I could just let you wallow in your own misery. And instead of gritting your teeth and going back to training with your team, you're drinking away your sorrows. Doesn't much seem like you're thinking about anyone other than yourself."

He'd pushed Wolf too far – knew it as soon as he finished his last sentence and saw anger bolt across Wolf's face. The man was in front of him in two strides, gripping the front of his T-shirt tightly.

"Do you have any fucking idea what I've been through?" Wolf spat, baring his teeth. "What we've all been through? Eagle and I found Snake nearly tortured to death in Samarra, having been 'interrogated' for information. Didn't look like any interrogation I've ever been prepared for. Snake was in hospital for weeks. As we were trying to escape, Eagle was shot in the arm. Would've been killed if Jackal hadn't turned up and shot the man dead. But that man was the one chance we had to understanding all this. We don't even know why Snake was put through all that. Are you trying to tell me training is going to prepare me for going back to that hell hole?"

He released Alex very suddenly, who stood, unable to move, staring at Wolf. He didn't know what to say – didn't know what he could say. He'd had a vague idea of what had happened to Snake, but his imagination hadn't extended to this – not even close.

"Get out," Wolf suddenly snapped, turning away. "Just leave me the hell alone."

Alex slowly backed out of the kitchen, staying only in time to see Wolf pulling open the fridge again. But what could he do? He couldn't think of a better reason for a man to be driven to drink.

He let himself into his room and let the door click softly shut behind him. Holding his head in his hands, he lowered himself into his desk chair. He'd goaded Wolf the way Wolf had goaded him, daring the soldier to tell him what had happened in Iraq in return for what he'd been doing for MI6. He realised now it wasn't a fair bargain – why Wolf hadn't take it. Clearly, what Alex had been through didn't hurt him even half as much as Wolf's experiences did him.

He bit his lip, staring at the cover of the Canterbury Tales. Why couldn't he just be normal? Any other person his age was looking forward to Christmas, relaxing at home, seeing family. Two days before Christmas, here he was, trying to deal with a drunk SAS soldier who had been through horrors Alex couldn't begin to comprehend.

He gave himself a mental shake. This wasn't about him; this was about Wolf.

Still, once again, he couldn't help but miss Jack terribly at that moment – and even Ian. His hand curled into a first, hating Alan Blunt more than he ever had at that moment. He was in no doubt that it was Blunt's fault K unit were being sent back to training already. And what would happen to him when K unit went away? Dread curled its cold fingers around Alex's stomach.

Well, however I'm feeling, he remind himself, it's probably not even close to how bad Wolf is.

Wolf, at that moment, stood hunched over the sink. The bottle of vodka sat on the counter, next to Cub's abandoned glass of water. He knew he was out of control. But he'd allowed himself this one last night of...freedom before he cleaned himself up and got it together. He couldn't help but give a half sort of ironic smile at that thought. His mother, in a drunken state, had told him once when he was fourteen that she drank to get 'release'. He'd condemned her at the time, swearing he'd never become dependent on anything.

Now, thirteen years later, he knew exactly what she meant. It wasn't quite the same; he wasn't dependent, he didn't need to drink, but he wanted to. To get release.

He did regret telling Cub about Iraq, though. Credit to the kid, his face had kept almost entirely straight, but Wolf had seen the shock and pity in his eyes. He didn't want pity, least of all from a kid.

And now he'd never find out what Cub had been up to with MI6. Wolf gritted his teeth, unsure of what angered him more – that Cub knew his secret, but he didn't know Cub's.

He heard Cub leave his room and enter the bathroom, the door banging shut and locking, and then the sound of running water. Wolf looked down at his watch. He thought it said half past twelve...or was it half past one? He had a feeling he had work the next day, but if he did, he wasn't going. Mrs. Jones could go to hell. Didn't she get it? Didn't any of them get it?

Eagle gets it, a small voice said, and Wolf shut his eyes briefly, returning to that god-awful moment when he and Eagle had broken down the cellar door of a house in Samarra. They'd switched on a dim naked bulb attached to the ceiling, to find Snake lying on the ground, tied up, thin, pale, bloody and beaten. Wolf remembered him and Eagle swearing simultaneously they'd get revenge. They hadn't yet.

He forced his eyes open. He'd still get revenge. For Snake. And for whatever bastard had done this to his unit.

Even if it killed him.

A/N: I've had comments before that I've 'ruined' this story by refusing to replace swear words with something less offensive; I'm sorry, but I don't think a depressed SAS soldier would really check his language, and I feel it's important to the dialogue, so it's staying in. Anyway, this is a nice, long (well, not necessarily 'nice', but definitely long) chapter to be going on with. I have exams in less than 2 weeks, so don't expect an update before then unless I need some serious stress relief. Please review, let me know what you think, and I'll update again as soon as I can.