A/N: Dedicated to chibidebba99 – you're such a sweetie :)

The room was cold.

That was the thought that kept running through Wolf's head, as if in a recorded loop, round and round it went. He always forgot to turn the heating on – frequent exposure to terrains he couldn't control had caused him to grow accustomed to any atmosphere pretty quickly, the consequence being that when his own home went into minus degrees, it never occurred to him to do something other than grit his teeth and bare it.

Alex used to remember.

Flexing his fingers slowly, they brushed over the blue duvet lightly, feeling the comfy material caress his hand. One time, after one of his weekend visits, Alex had tried to surreptitiously – or so he termed it –take it back to the Chelsea house, but Wolf said no. He pretended to do it simply for the sake of teasing Alex, but the real reason was so that the boy would still come to see him, even when Jack returned from America and he was no longer the boy's guardian. As silly as the notion of him halting his frequent visits for duvet cover was, he'd still been unable to get the thought out of his head. He wanted to make sure they stayed close.

Wolf snorted, a sound both angry and sad. In that case, he knew he'd failed spectacularly. Not that it was his fault the woman had died, but that he'd been unable to keep Alex with him. He felt if he'd just fought harder, tried to keep a better reign on his temper, perhaps even reasoned with Alex, they'd still be together. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, to force his own concerns on the boy he loved when he was still reeling over his latest, greatest loss.

Wolf sat up, toying with the urge to take one of the thick pillows and crush it to his chest. Over the last few weeks, he'd taken to coming in here, what had previously been Alex's room, and laying on the boy's bed, remembering that period when they had lived together. It occurred to him that it was unlikely to be considered a healthy method of dealing with his turbulent emotions when they got to be too much for him. He couldn't quite bring himself to care.

God, he missed him.

Wolf had tried, many times, to pin down exactly why this was, exactly what had awoken this love within him, emotionally stunted as he was apt to be. It proved to be impossible. Then again, it didn't really matter, did it? He loved him and that was that. A pity it didn't feel that simple. But there was one element to it that was that simple; no matter the cost, they had to be reunited. It was killing him, slowly. He had resolved to let it go, to wait those last three years – nearly two now, Alex's sixteenth was coming up soon, after all. But with each passing day, that certainty, that steadfastness was slipping away. He could not, would not last much longer before he gave in. The only question was, how to go about it? How to cause the least possible pain to Alex? And who to trust?

XXXXX

Deep down, Derek Smithers had to admit, at least to himself, that he wasn't truly surprised. Sighing so quietly the noise would be inaudible to anybody who was not standing right next to him, the specialist replaced the plans he had been checking over into its folder and closed it before turning to face the imposing man standing before him. The soldier met his gaze steadily, muscular arms folded over his chest, chiseled jaw clenched tightly into a harsh line.

They stared at each other for several long, tense moments before the scientist spoke up. "You do realize how serious – not to mention difficult – this will be, right?"

Wolf nodded once, his stormy grey eyes unflinchingly fixated in front of him, locked on his goal.

"What exactly are you going to tell Mrs. Jones? How are you going to make her listen to you?" Smithers forced himself to ask.

Wolf shrugged; a reluctant, sharp, brief movement that did little to hide his growing agitation. "I haven't entirely figured that out yet. I'll find some way to get through to her. Reiterate how much good he did them, how useful he was. Why'd you guys keep going after him, time and time again, if that weren't true? She must want him back."

Smithers considered this for a moment, then shook his head gently, once in either direction, "Not entirely. Mr. Blunt was always very insistent on Alex's skill, but Mrs. Jones did her best to dissuade him wherever she could. She was never really on board with utilizing him," here Smithers fixed Wolf with a suddenly icy stare that would've had a lesser man trembling. "An opinion I share, might I add."

Wolf's face was an emotionless mask. He kept his mouth shut, waiting impatiently for the man to continue with the line of conversation or order him out of his lab. Eventually, Smithers leant back heavily in his seat, his left forefinger and thumb coming up to message the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, suddenly looking exhausted. When he removed his hand, he said, "Why are you doing this, Wolf? You, of all people, should want him as far away from our organization as possible."

"That was what I wanted." The soldier swallowed, trying to crush the abrupt uprising of emotion in his throat. "But . . ."

"But?" Smithers prompted, looking a tad curious despite himself.

"But – I'm worried. I'm always worried about him. It's driving me mad! I never know if he's okay or hurt or upset or whatever. I'm constantly thinking about how he's handling things – if he's handling them, that is." The images of small, precise old cuts littering the skin of Alex's legs, dark red stark against the pale white, came to the forefront of Wolf's mind while he viciously beat them back, repressing a shudder at the memory.

"You two keep in touch, don't you?"

Wolf gave the other man a weary, strained look at that statement. "Oh come on, Mr. Smithers. This is Alex we're talking about here. You know what he's like. He never told anyone when something was bothering him because he didn't want to pressure other people with his problems, especially me – and that's when we lived in the same flat, for God's sake. He's on a whole other continent now! Do you honestly think he's telling me everything? 'Cause I don't."

"Doubtful." Smithers sighed again, looking away from the soldier to stare at a whitewashed wall in thought. ". . . Okay. I get it. You miss him. But do you actually think this is a good idea? Do you really want to pull him away from a family that genuinely cares about him and his happiness, simply because of that? There he has a normal life and a support system if anything does go wrong, here he's got nothing."

"Got nothing?" Wolf snarled and, quick as lightning, he was overcome with rage. "He's got me, damn it! What do you think I'm battling for here? Why would I go to the trouble of dealing with your lot to get him back in the UK, just to abandon him once he's over the border? I'll look after him! Do you really think those people," Smithers couldn't help but raise his eyebrows incredulously at the remarkable amount of disdain Wolf managed to pack into those two words, "can help him like I can? Know him, like I do? Know how he feels, like I do? Of course not! How could they? It's all very well to sit there and say "Oh he's got a normal life now, leave him be," but it's too little too late. You think you can just hand him that on a plate and expect him to adjust over night? It's not that simple. Alex's experiences have changed him, they'll always be with him. He needs someone who understands how difficult it is, trying to fit in with civilians after seeing the horrors in the world, someone who realizes that it's not just – just teen angst or whatever the hell you want to call it, that he really does need help sometimes. And more than that, someone who recognizes when to push and when to leave it alone, who respects that he'll need a little space, but loves him enough to ignore it when its necessary. He needs someone who gets him."

Wolf was panting by the time he was done. Smtiher's remained silent, staring at him, looking a bit stunned. Wolf surprised himself with the vehemence he'd managed to pack into that speech. Eloquence wasn't something that came naturally to him after all.

"And you believe you're the man for the job?" Smithers voice broke Wolf out of his mini-reverie. "You're better suited to looking after him that the Pleasure's are?"

"Yes." Wolf replied immediately, without a moments hesitation. Perhaps that was what finally won Smithers over.

"All right." He reached out and pulled a hidden wire free from the lamp base; bringing it to his lips, he said, "Did you get all that?"

"Every word."

Wolf spun on his heel as a hidden door slid open, parting seamlessly from the apparently solid brick wall. John Crawly stepped cautiously into the room, his features carefully composed and blank.

"What's he doing here?" the soldier demanded ferociously, not even attempting to hide his anger.

"Wolf. Still making a spectacle of yourself, I see. I suppose at least you attempted to conduct this particular scene in a more private place than last time." Crawley said smoothly, keeping his distance from the irritated man. He did have some sense of self-preservation after all.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did it make you uncomfortable that I had to comfort Alex after your lot's most recent cock-up?" Wolf asked mockingly.

"Boys." Smithers interrupted as Crawley opened his mouth, an annoyed frown marring his emotionless façade. "Can we get to work, please?"

"Why's he involved?" Wolf demanded, turning on Smithers, his control, already pushed to the boundary by the scientist's earlier comment, getting weaker by the second.

"I contacted him when I received your message. I thought he'd be able to assist us."

Wolf shot a skeptical glance at the agent. "Why would he do that?"

"I will aid you," Crawley began, his voice a condescending drawl perfectly designed to get under Wolf's skin. "Because I disapproved of Alex's relocation to America."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Wolf asked suspiciously.

"I feel that the decision was not made with the best interests of MI6 as the priority. Mrs. Jones felt guilty about the previous year and saw the – accident which befall Miss Starbright, and her own ascension as the Head as her opportunity to make amends. Not a wise decision, in my opinion. The simple truth is we need Alex. He's the best agent we've had in years." Smithers cleared his voice harshly as he glared at Wolf, who quickly shut his mouth against the sarcastic comment that wanted to be voiced. Crawley ignored them. "So if you're willing to assume responsibility for the boy, I'd say the three of us working together is the best chance we've got of getting him back."

Wolf stewed that over, chewing on his tongue, keeping his death glare firmly leveled on the smarmy spy and gratified to see him fidget slightly. "Okay," he said eventually. "So what do we have to do?"

"Well," Smithers said, "I still doubt that Mrs. Jones will approve of this, whatever your reasoning. Crawley was right, she feels bad about her involvement."

"An unhelpful sentiment." Crawley muttered.

Disregarding that, Wolf spoke directly to Smithers. "Is there any way we can go above her? She may be the Head of MI6 but even you guys have to answer to somebody, right?"

Smithers and Crawley shared a quick look. "Earnshaw." The latter said.

Wolf frowned, "What?"

"Henry Earnshaw." Smithers explained. "He's in the Prime Ministers' office. Has been for every single one of them since he entered government, in fact. Likes to be at the centre of things, if you get my meaning."

"You think he'd help us?" Wolf asked dubiously.

"If we can convince him he's got something to gain from it." Crawley said.

Smithers frowned at him, a little reproachfully. "You're selling him a bit too short, there. He may be a borderline-amoral, selfish power-monger, but even without those qualities, he'd probably get Alex back just because he doesn't want the country to lose someone as valuable as Alex."

"He's a patriot?" Wolf questioned curiously.

"Let's just say that knowledge that Alex is gone will probably by enough to make him tear his hair out." Crawley said to the room in general.

"I'll get a message to him," Smithers said. "One of his assistants owes me a favor. I think it'd be best to keep this out of MI6 channels for the time being. The last thing we want is Mrs. Jones finding out before we have a chance to get this underway."

"Right. You've got my number. Let me know if you get him on-board." Wolf stated briskly, striding to the main door. He paused as he reached it, his hand resting on the doorknob, before turning back. "Smithers?" he gave the specialist a small half-smile. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

The room was silent for several long moments after the soldier left.

"Well isn't that interesting." Crawley said in a monotone, his eyes dark.

Smithers shot him a warning look. "Stay out of it, Crawley. I doubt even you could handle them both."

"I'm aware. You needn't worry, Mr. Smithers. I'm simply trying to secure my future here, that's all."

"She's been in charge for less than a year, for God's sake. You're getting ahead of yourself."

"I'm thinking in the long-term, Mr. Smithers. Don't tell me you haven't considered it yourself. And besides, you've seen the autopsy pictures of Sarov's man, Sokolov. You think I want to end up like that?"

"Crawley." Smithers snapped sharply. "For all his faults, Wolf is a good man and he's the best guardian Alex ever had. I won't have you accusing him of something like that."

"All those wounds were sustained from the initial confrontation, then? Funny. You'd have thought K-Unit would've been a bit more thorough in their reports. "Crawley said sarcastically. "I do wonder though . . ."

"What?" Smithers asked in a long-suffering voice.

"Just how far Wolf is willing to go for Alex."

The conversation came to an abrupt end after that statement.