Breathe.

Do not freak out.

Do not freak out.

Keep it together, goddamn it!

The ground was moving.

Only faintly but enough to register, ever so faintly setting him off his core. He felt it flick at his axis.

Like little tremors before an earthquake, clashing against the unsettlingly familiar numbness that was starting to spread across his face and down his neck, clamping viscerally around his lungs.

This wasn't happening.

This couldn't be happening.

He'd only been back for all of twelve days! Technically conscious for only ten.

And with the already strained relationship he had with his own bosses at 6, he couldn't even be sure he had any real side of support at all.

Ben had specifically stated it himself; Alex had been suspended and was under the Mobilis Protocol.

He'd been all but blacklisted.

In the middle of a special forces camp with no status and with god knows what sort of enemies still after him.

Framed for murder.

The murder of the deputy head of MI-fucking-5 none-the-less.

He could practically feel the cracks begin to splinter in the already unsteadiness of his mind. This, and the already added stress of the post trauma he'd all but ignored mixed with the tailspin from the pending withdrawal that was bound to happen sooner than later...

It was almost savagely cruel.

Almost.

Almost because somewhere deep deep down in the frighteningly and dark crevices of his mind, he could feel the strange tendrils of something he couldn't quite fully place.

A strange and uncomfortable feeling.

One he had been unconsciously working to bury.

But they'd come for him, vicious and unyielding when he found himself able to drift off.

Something that felt disturbingly close to what he could only guess was...guilt?

An excruciating point somewhere between remorseful contrition and panic inducing terror that left him jolting awake in waves of nausea and cold sweat.

But those feelings were starting to crawl out, untethered to the whims of his unconscious.

The stress of it all was getting to him, and just as Jones had forewarned him all those years back, he'd reached a point where he could no longer just ignore it.

There was no room left to 'bury it'. Especially as 'it' had come so violently alive.

But he just didn't understand.

He wasn't even sure what 'it' was! There was no awareness. No concrete-no-not even semi-concrete thoughts. As far as Alex could tell, all he had to go on were 'feelings'.

So he felt 'terrified' and 'contrite'. But he had no idea as to why.

And in a way, that was worse.

So much worse.

He couldn't fix things when he didn't have a clue what was fucking broken.

All he could do was to stress and to suffer.

Not exactly like he had for the past four months, but it wasn't altogether unfamiliar.

Like a nerve that had been fired for so long, there was a numbness but it wasn't comfortable.

There was no reprieve like the numbness that came off of the countless bitter pills he'd been prescribed that took the edge off of the ever constant physical pain, even sometimes blurring the mental, just a little.

But never really enough.

And he was stuck.

Literally and figuratively.

Suspension meant that his status, not only in 6, but also the SAS and whatever other authorization he had was gone. The sergeant would be alerted, he'd probably already had been when Beacons was flagged.

And if he remembered correctly, a certain authorization and status was required to be on camp grounds.

It was a special forces camp after all.

And if the Mobilis Protocol had already been activated, it meant that his details would be spread in 5's country-wide net of entrances and exits. Every sort of port in or out of the UK would have been flagged, and that included military ones as well.

Especially military ports.

He would be deemed a flight risk and a public danger, and depending on the severity of whatever put him under the protocol to begin with, his well being would be entirely up to MI5 to decide.

Wolf warily accepted the radio the spy held out for him, muttering a quiet 'thanks'.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Something now. At that moment in time.

Something was wrong. Something about Alex's calm-no…Blank expression.

It was the way he held himself.

Not stiff and stressed as it had been during the call.

It was more...angry.

Angry and agile. Radiating with a sort of dangerous prowess.

A little like Gregorovich had when he had first arrived on base almost a week before.

But there was a distinct difference.

Gregorovich's aura of danger was earned. It was sure and bone deep, a finely honed power that just came to those with experience.

Not too unlike the soldiers that had overseen his moving into the secure base.

Opposite sides but dangerous nonetheless.

Alex was different.

He was young and lacked the experience that only time could give, but he was dangerous. That much was more than evident.

But his aura wasn't the consistent and crystalline like Gregorovich.

It was unstable and reactive, almost panicked. Like a cornered animal's drive to fight for their lives.

Wolf had seen enough recruits who'd tried to get through with that sort of power. He knew that it wouldn't work. That in the state he was in, the spy would likely end up hurting himself in the process of whatever it was that was going to happen.

"Cub-" he reached out, only to have his hand quickly nudged away, his own fingers just barely missing the cuff of Alex's own jacket as he continued forward, all but ignoring the sudden call.

Wolf opened his mouth to protest, turning sharply to face the assassin only to clamp his mouth shut as the man shook his head, silently ordering Wolf to stop, sharp gaze darting from the spy back to the soldier.

"What now?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. Something about it not completely befitting the situation at hand.

But Alex didn't seem to notice.

He shrugged, pausing momentarily, turning to the assassin, mouth set in a grim line.

"I think it's time Matthews and I had a chat. Before things get serious,"

It was a strangely unsettling answer, Wolf wasn't going to lie.

The nonchalant tone didn't make matters any better.

But he didn't get to think too long on in because within the span of the spy's answer and the successive shrug, Gregorovich sprang into action, latching on to Alex's right arm, squeezing just so at a nerve no doubt, causing him to drop the gun in his hands.

The assassin wasted no time in kicking the pistol back to Wolf who grabbed it, immediately unloading it, shoving the remaining magazine in his pocket before flicking the safety on, gripping onto it tightly as he watched the blonde try to take Gregorovich on, and very quickly go down.

Literally.

The assassin showed no mercy, grabbing Alex's left wrist mid punch, latching on to the watch face before yanking and twisting in one brutal motion. He saw the pain spark through, rendering him immobile for just a moment, but the moment was all Gregorovich needed to maneuver himself where he needed to be, grabbing the spy into a vicious chokehold.

He didn't even budge from the struggle, keeping on until he was holding on to dead weight.

He put the spy down gently on the cold ground, taking a deep breath before straightening up, looking Wolf dead in the eyes.

"Let Daniels know Rider has been compromised. He needs to know before he leaves."