"What is going on with you?!"
"I'm sure 5 wouldnt mind sharing if you ask nicely. Please and thank you and all that-"
"Is this a joke to you, Alex?! Honest to fucking god. Look at me-" Ben lurched forward, smacking his hand down on the cold steel table, staring the spy right in the eye.
"What is this?"
"This?" Alex quirked a brow.
"The car. The passport. Gregorovich-"
"What about him?"
"Why's Yassen Gregorovich, the ex-SCORPIA assassin and known terrorist having to bring you in, hmm? Why am I sitting in this holding cell questioning you instead of half way to 6, where I should be?"
"That just seems like a personal problem to me-" the blond gave a cheeky shrug.
"And as for Mr. known terrorist, I'm sure you could just ask him as well. I'm not a mind reader, you know. I don't just magically know why people do what they do, Ben." he spat, readjusting in his seat, rattling the shackles on the table top.
"Well I can't ask him now, can I? Cause he's not here anymore."
"Oh?"
"He's been called back to 6."
"Oh, how convenient. You want to go, he's already there. It just works out." the caustic edge to the smart mouthed retort was not missed.
And neither was the barely covered enmity that was slowly but surely starting to make itself known..
This was not the Alex that Ben knew.
That he was sure of.
This person, the disgruntled one sitting glaring daggers at him, shooting off smart-ass responses, he was someone else.
Almost like a doppelganger of a sorts. But not.
This wasn't like the bizarre case from the Point Blanc mission with the unbelievable doppelganger issue.
No.
This was just as strange, but in a more understandable way.
He'd heard about dissociative identity disorder before. Read about it in his own time.
Read that trauma and stress was a major component. Something so near and dear to their line of work.
He'd heard of agents who couldn't handle the stress. The ones that had so said, 'lost it'. He heard of cases even before he joined MI6. The military, and later on, the SAS and special forces, it wasn't too different from the stress of SIS. Stress and traumatic situations. But they'd learned how to properly deal with them.
Even basic military had debriefs and post mission evaluations that needed to be passed.
And while every now and then, there were those who happened to fall through the gaps, he knew that it was pretty unlikely that one could get to such a point without having set off any sort of red flags or alarms.
Alex was an official agent now, afterall.
And a fully legal adult at that.
There were protocols in place that he, like every other agent, was required to follow.
And it wasn't like Jones and Matthews hadn't been vigilant.
Especially Jones.
She'd been the one who's set the boundaries once Alex agreed to officially sign on. She'd been the one who had him started with a full psychological baseline and eval. Even Matthews had agreed, standing adamantly beside what Jones had outlined in Alex's newest requirements of full emancipation back at sixteen and a half.
The therapy sessions to start. The regular, weekly sessions when he was available for them.
And then there were the in depth debriefings post mission and appropriate time off to rest and recoup.
Normalcy of a sorts, developed over the last three or so years.
Three fucking years.
So how could they have gone so far off based and missed this…?
When had it even begun?
How?
Too many questions he just didn't have answers for, and in all honesty, it really, really bothered him.
He had never seen Alex so far out of his norm, and it was more than a little unsettling, that was for sure.
But with the shallow information Gregorovich had given him during their Impromptu one on one after the baffling post assignment debrief with the excursion, he couldn't say he was completely lost in terms of where they stood in the quagmire of the situation they were in.
The sudden acute stress had triggered Alex's latest dissociative episode. Or that's what he assumed.
And if he were assuming correctly, the person handcuffed and chained to the steel table in the middle of one of the SAS interrogation huts was probably the alter he'd met back during the debrief, Casimir. Or something like that.
Casimir.
It didn't ring any bells. He was sure he'd never heard the name before.
Or was it a code name?
Gregorovich hadn't said.
But what he had told the spy was that Casimir's appearance was probably not for the best and that it would be recommended to keep an eye out.
For what, he didn't specify, but Ben had noted it all the same.
Keep an eye out.
Coming from Gregorovich of all people, the threat had to be significant.
But staring back at the snappy teen seated across from him, things were just… not really connecting.
Agent Alex Rider was dangerous by all accounts.
A senior SIS agent. He'd officially passed SAS selection not too long ago. A near expert trained in instinctive shooting amongst other controversial skills.
Agent Rider was dangerous, but it was all familiar to Ben.
He'd worked with Rider for years. They'd trained together. Worked together. Saved each other's ass countless times in countless countries over.
Casimir on the other hand.
Casimir was new, and that made things precarious. And in this situation, precarious automatically meant dangerous and the situation was dangerous enough as it was.
Ben wasn't going to be in a situation to be able to watch Alex's back if it wasn't Alex to begin with.
And with Gregorovich-
Jesus. That was just a whole different mess he'd have to figure out after this.
"Casimir-"
"Ohoho. Cheeky, aren't you." His tone was unmistakably scornful, glower offset by a wry smirk.
"I'm right, aren't I? So you're Casimir?"
"At this point, who's to say?" He shrugged dispassionately with a caustic little eye roll.
"It's important."
The blond wasn't impressed.
"Gregorovich told me about you, you know."
Casimir snorted, making a weak attempt to corral his chortles. He managed to bring himself together enough to return Ben's serious gaze with his own of thinly veiled amusement before wiping the humor away, face suddenly scarily impassive.
"I'm sure he did." It sounded a bit teasing, oddly exasperated. Like the older spy was missing something.
Something important.
Like Ben just wasn't understanding whatever it was that was just so obvious.
"About time." He shrugged.
"What does that mean?" Ben's brows furrowed in confusion.
"Exactly what I said, Daniels. Did I stutter?" He sassed.
"I mean that it took him long enough. I figured it would be on the top of the list of things he's let you lot know." He shrugged, grimacing.
"From the agreement, anyway."
"The agreement?"
"If you need to ask, you definitely don't need to know."
Ben took a moment to collect his flailing thoughts.
It was weird.
bizarre.
It wasn't like Alex wasn't a salty bastard at times. He'd been around long enough to know that the blond could be straight up insufferable at times.
But he had his limits.
This?
This was the same but different.
On the same line as Alex's own personality but so so far beyond the blond's normal.
Like Alex on steroids.
Or whatever else it was that had gotten him to this point.
"He doesn't really seem to trust you too much."
Casimir scoffed, leveling Ben with a derisive stare.
"You do know the man's an assassin, yeah? He doesn't trust anyone."
"But especially you."
He shrugged, seemingly unbothered.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Do you trust me?" He leaned forward, elbows on the table propping his chin up in his hands.
He gave a small smile, looking uncomfortably innocuous for a moment.
"Why does it matter?" Ben narrowed his eyes in wary bemusement, leaning back in his seat to survey the odd sight.
"I mean, I get why the man doesn't trust me. But I'd expect you'd at least trust me a little bit." He weedled, shrugging back into his own seat.
"Amuse me." Ben replied flatly, gesturing for the blond to explain.
"I mean, technically speaking, I'm the result of the poor bastard not being able to deal with one measly assignment…"
He rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation.
"I don't get it." The spy bit back.
"Jesus Christ- it's you fucking prat." He quirked a cynical brow.
"You were the assignment."
Ben froze in wide eyes disbelief.
"I would say that saving your miserable little life warrants a little fucking trust. Wouldn't you say so, Agent Daniels?