A/N: Happy Monday, everyone!

If anyone is interested in seeing some Mammals art, check out the amazing Noahilon's on her tumblr post/640045556159430657/. Highly recommended. ;)


Ben had to give whoever had picked their two-bedroom flat credit- it was damn near perfect in terms of location. Discreetly nestled in the downtown area, the building itself was almost invisible. Identical, flat older looking buildings with no interesting features surrounded it, though most had been tastefully renovated on the inside. They were on the sixth floor, and two streets over from where Alex and Gregorovitch were supposedly residing. Due to the shorter building beside theirs, they had a fairly unobstructed view of the large windows on the west side of the terrorist's apartment, with a semi decent line of sight to their living room. Ben frowned. Another set of shuttered windows were tucked off in the corner of the building, much smaller than the others. A bedroom or bathroom, perhaps? MI6 didn't have an official layout of the place, though a similar unit's floor plans had been provided as a starting reference.

Nobody home. Not that it was urgent they spot him today. They had weeks, theoretically. The spy was just anxious to get a move on.

Ben pushed up his sunglasses. They were a Smithers original- thicker than what one would expect by only a quarter of an inch and with a slightly unusual sheen, they had night vision capabilities and one of the best digital zoom functions he'd ever seen, much less in something so small and unobtrusive. An improvement on a previous version concealed in ski goggles. It had been given to him by the MI6 tech assigned to the case, as well as with a handful of other discrete items; button-hole cameras, a document scanner disguised as a pen, a set of hearing amplifiers disguised as small waterbottles. Nothing terribly extensive or particularly high-tech, likely because their mission didn't require complicated surveillance or because their odds of discovery were reasonable. Anything else could be requested as needed.

Behind him, Wolf tapped his shoulder until Ben turned around and scowled. "There's only two bedrooms and one sofa."

"Brilliant. He can count," Eagle muttered from across the room. He'd taken to reclining in one of the chairs in front of the television. It was on quietly, though it didn't seem to draw his attention more than passingly.

"Which means one of us is stuck sleeping on the floor," Wolf clarified, favoring Eagle with only an unphased glance. "And I'll tell you right now, it's not going to be me."

Snake shrugged as he stepped into the room from the kitchen, glancing at his phone and then back up at Wolf with snort. "You didn't claim anything else fast enough. Not our fault your plane landed after ours."

Eagle cackled. "Unless you want to share my bed. I have to warn you, though: I'm a cuddler."

Ben rolled his eyes and gestured to a closet off the front door. "There's an air mattress in there. I'll flip a coin for it."

Wolf grimaced. "I don't see why we all had to fly separately. We're not even using false names. So far as I understand it, we don't seem terribly secret."

Ben shook his head. "Not exactly, no. It's more about avoiding undue attention. Any one of us visiting Moscow doesn't look suspicious. Not every member of the military is in their databases to begin with, obviously but even if they know that we're SAS, it's not illegal to be a tourist. So long as we didn't all travel together, it shouldn't raise any immediate flags in their systems. If anyone does notice we've all gathered together now, we're all feasibly just buddies on holiday."

"And we just assume they won't put it together the entire time we're here?" Eagle asked. "We're begging to get arrested by the SVR like this."

Ben crossed his arms, wincing as he stretched out his back. "What we're doing isn't exactly illegal, we just don't want the Russians interfering before we get anything done. So long as we're not openly on a mission or proveably MI6, it's hard to justify treating us like criminals or spies even if we violate some privacy laws." Ben flicked down his sunglasses, glancing back up at the apartment through the balcony window. He'd have to switch to watching the street soon. "Besides, if we do find evidence that Alex is in danger, our findings will go before a judge. False names providing said evidence supports a problematic narrative, which can possibly invalidate whatever we find. MI6 might be a spy agency, but their evidence in their defense is expected to be above board."

Eagle's eyes narrowed. "Our names aren't going to support a spy narrative so much as using button cam video evidence will. Won't it be obvious that we came outfitted for a recon mission?"

"That's easier to explain away," Ben said, pushing his glasses back up with a sigh. "We can say that we saw signs of abuse first and then got equipment to document it. At any rate, that's why we're supposed to use our cell phones if possible. Any evidence is better than nothing, but again, it's important that it appear unconnected to the agency."

Wolf sorted. "That's why we're supposed to pretend you never left the SAS."

Ben nodded. He'd only been gone less than a year and his name wasn't well known to other agencies despite his success record. It had been a simple matter for Jones to alter his records to say that he'd been granted a special sabbatical for personal reasons but remained enlisted. "Just keep our story straight and we should avoid most trouble. The government will become aware of us at some point, there's no doubt about it. Odds are that they'll tolerate us for the sake of appearing non-hostile during proceedings, at least unless we do something they can prove isn't holiday related."

Part of him knew he should be more direct with his team mates. Being here was a risk for all of them- he hadn't left the unit so long ago that he couldn't remember the frustration when bureaucratic types withheld information for their own agendas when your life was on the line. Even so, telling them about Smithers would be a disaster. Not only did he not entirely understand the situation, technically, it was safer if they weren't involved: only he would likely end up in prison for the rest of his life if caught. Well, assuming he wasn't sentenced to death. Beyond his nebulous alliance with Smithers, Ben didn't want to withhold anything else.

Forming suspicions were hard to communicate, anyway.

"Hence the no-weapons thing," Eagle grumbled, crossing his legs out in front of him on the coffee table. "Or why we didn't get much equipment. Button cams won't go very far. What is this, the Cold War?"

Ben gave him an apologetic look. "A lot of the surveillance stuff would be pretty useless anyway, since you all lack the training to use it properly, and would just look bad if we get caught. That's why I'm holding onto the bulk of the covert stuff."

"It's just strange," Snake said, still leaning against the doorframe that led into the kitchen. He crossed his arms and glanced out the window, at the fading light. "This mission that's not really a mission. Just hang out and stalk a kid. Chat him up when we can. Try not to get arrested. Avoid being killed by that lunatic who took him."

"Does anyone else feel like we should unofficially rename this mission Unmarked White Van?" Eagle asked. "Because it still feels about that dodgy. The first words out of our mouths to the kid might as well be 'would you like some free candy?'"

Ben shot the man a look, but couldn't find it in himself to disagree. Frankly, they would be lucky not to come across as pedophiles. "The trick is to avoid being problematic for just long enough that we get just one solid piece of evidence to send back, even if we're under the SVR's close observation by that point."

Snake sighed. "If only we knew how long. We could be here for months. Just… sitting."

Wolf grimaced, staring out at their tiny, snow covered balcony. The apartment had been unoccupied for long enough that the snow had iced over and gotten crunchy. "I really wish the brat had broken out of prison in the Spring. Or at least fled to the Greek Islands."

Snake punched him lightly on the arm. "You should have made a formal request. So I just took a look at the fridge- nothing. I guess we're eating out tonight. Might be a good chance to get to know the area."

"Or we order in," Eagle countered, glancing at the heavily laden coat rack where their winter coats dripped steadily with melted snow. "That would be my preference."

Ben gave him a look. "Technically, you and Snake should be studying your language books. Learn enough Russian to order food anyway."

Eagle snorted. "Do we even know what delivers here?"

"There's some menus in the kitchen. I take it the landlord knows that most people who rent a holiday place like this probably don't want to do their own cooking," Wolf said.

Snake dug out his language manual from the bag he'd tossed by the front door. "Fine, but I vote Fox has to phone it in and deal with the driver. Eagle and I have to study."


Alex kicked open the thick door to their flat, tray wobbling momentarily as he struggled to balance it in his arms and finish dealing with the keypad. Succeeding only by a thin margin, he hurried in and shut the door behind himself. Dropping the pan swiftly on the counter, he shed every other item off him like a butterfly abandoning its cocoon en route to his bedroom- his gloves bounced off the countertop a second later, his winter jacket was tossed somewhere on the floor, his backpack his the hardwood in the hallway, his sports coat nearly making it to his bedroom door but not quite, and his shoes scattering across the threshold.

It made for quite the untidy mess, but Alex was beyond caring. It was getting late in the afternoon and he was cold and tired. As tempted as he was to crawl into his sleep clothes and wrap himself in every blanket he could find, he also realized that his stomach was growling. He'd been too busy with schoolwork at the restaurant to take Daniil up on ordering from the menu and those pretzels hadn't exactly filled him up. Staying home meant his options were to either heat up something frozen or wait for Yassen to arrive so he could badger him into buying him something more appetizing. Alex didn't trust his Russian enough to phone it in himself, so that meant he there was a decent chance he'd have to go out himself and point awkwardly at a takeaway menu if the man was working extra late.

Going out it was.

He yanked on his favorite non-uniform clothes with little enthusiasm. Why was it so damn cold all the time? It couldn't just be him, regardless of what Yassen said. Listening to the contract killer, you'd think Alex was a short-haired chihuahua, shivering at the mere mention of a draft. His room was just cold, damn it. Colder than the others, no matter what the readout actually said.

Maybe he'd just left the window cracked or something. That would be vidicating. Alex flicked open the blinds to check. No luck; it was sealed and putting his hands near the seam didn't offer any cold spots.

Grabbing the tassel, Alex very nearly shut his blinds before he noticed something. A slight flicker.

He froze, brows furrowing. It had been fast- too fast for Alex to identify- but it stuck with him no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was nothing. It wasn't even a building beside theirs; there was no way he could have clearly seen whatever it was. It was dark. Paranoia was nothing new and he should know better by now than to let it get to him. The late hour and waning medication was probably just making him needlessly anxious.

Alex chewed on his bottom lip. It could be anything, a million innocuous things. A windchime catching the light. The flicker of a telly. A reflection in a mirror.

That really didn't stop him from thinking it was the glare from a camera lense.

What did it matter? Alex shut the blinds with a snap. It probably wasn't that, but even if it was, who was to say they were watching him out of the hundreds of other people living in this building.

Yassen's warning about MI6 sending a team soon made him pretty sure it wasn't, though. Alex scowled at his carpet and folded his arms. He might still be wrong- the team might not even be here yet or that might not be the correct apartment. Pulling out his iPhone, he pointed it in the right direction and gave it a go: no luck. Too far out of range.

Hunger forgotten, Alex glanced up at the clock. Almost half past seven.

With a groan, Alex gathered up his shoes and tugged them back on his feet. Where did his gloves go? Truth be told, he knew he was doing a stupid thing by going to check it out. Still. Yassen said the surveillance would likely be harmless, if annoying, so it wasn't like there was a real threat if he was caught by them. Besides, there was an excellent chance that he was wrong and was letting his brain get him all panicked over nothing.

Investigating alone was certainly idiotic, though: even if he thought the chance they'd snatch him was low, Yassen would be downright livid if he knew Alex hadn't even texted to let him know what he was doing. That was just a risk Alex would have to take. A quick look would either prove that Alex had nothing to worry about and he could spend his evening relaxing, or, it would reveal the location of their new watchers and whatever else Alex could learn. He'd take precautions and stay away from the actual apartment itself and just get close enough that his iPod could confirm or deny his suspicions. Simple. If it was nothing, Alex didn't have to mention it to the man and if it was something, hopefully whatever information he gathered would be enough to buy himself a little leeway.

He'd make it fast, he promised himself. Yassen would never even have to know he'd gone out.