Yassen crossed his legs as he sat down on the sofa in the police lounge, on his side table a cup of coffee. His gaze fixed solely on the news broadcasted on the TV in front of him, hanging on the wall by the metal piece. Though, however, his mind was anywhere but.

Ian was alive. He wasn't surprised or shocked, he was merely confused. Yassen knew that the man was dead, a shot to his heart and neck-as if that couldn't kill a man-. Of course, Alex survived a shot to the heart, but Yassen had watched the man die. He shouldn't be alive. He couldn't be alive. But here the man was, regarding him with an impassive face that reminded Yassen of his former mentor, John. But John smiled more, Yassen thought absently.

"Mr. Evans?" Silver walked into the room with Yassen's alias rolling smoothly out, "I'm Silver Barsad. Please to meet you."

Yassen turned to regard his assistant, "My pleasure."

"I see you're watching the news," Silver said as he took a seat next to him but not too near, "How do you feel about our office so far?" What do you think about Ian?

"Brought back memories of a station I worked in before," Yassen replied. I knew him.

Silver raised an eyebrow, "Is that good?"

"It was burned down," Yassen remarked. He was dead.

If possible, Silver's eyebrow rose higher, "I take it that it's bad."

Yassen gave it his best attempt to chuckle, "I was just wondering if the same engineer designed this station." How is he alive?

"Maybe," Silver laughed. I don't know. Why are you asking me?

Yassen smoothed his suit carefully down, taking extra care to remove the crease on the area around his wrists, "What should I do until the trip to the school?"

"If you want," Silver took the hint to change the topic, "I can show you around the area. You're new to the area, aren't you?" I have something to tell you. Let's go somewhere private.

Yassen inclined his head, "Yes."

An officer passing by the lounge barked a laughter, "Silver, don't slack off to go to the food court again."

"Oh shut up, James," Silver said in mock irritation, "Go mind your own business. C'mon, Evans."

"Anthony is fine," Yassen said as he stood up.

"You can call me Silver then," Silver smiled sarcastically.

Once exiting the station and making sure that no one was following them, with their gaze or physically, he nudged Silver to lead. He wasn't going to let his guard down until they were fully out of eyeshot and earshot.

Silver was clearly familiar with the area as he navigated skillfully toward the central square, located just less than a mile from the station, "So Anthony, got a girlfriend?"

Yassen shot him a withering glance, his eyes narrowing, "No."

Silver patted him hard on the back and Yassen refused the urge to smack and throw the man to the ground, "Ah, youngsters these days. Get yourself a girlfriend, Anth. Worth it."

"It's Anthony."

"Anth's nicer."

Yassen really did wonder at the moment why Silver wasn't dead yet. He was probably getting sentimental. He shook his head in exasperation. Assassinations weren't hard. It was a job. And every job was either a fail or a success, there was no between. Either the target died or … the target died. He wouldn't allow a failure. But, in the short span of time with Silver, he touched a case only occasionally. Most of the time, Yassen found himself working as a detective. An inspector. He didn't know if that was an improvement or degrade.

Once they were completely out of earshot and eyeshot of the station, Silver pushed away his façade and turned to Yassen, "Good news or bad news?"

"Good," Yassen said.

Silver chuckled, "Good news, Ian doesn't seem to know you, even if you do know him."

"And bad?" Yassen asked. If that news was something Silver called 'good news', bad news was probably something similar.

"Bad news? Alex's here too."

Yassen turned to Silver, "Why?"

"MI6," Silver shrugged, "A mission, I suppose. And second bad news, he's blind."

Yassen, at this, raised an eyebrow skeptically, unable to hide his wonder, "Blind?"

"Explosion didn't work out," Silver said, "Temporary, I heard. But good news, there's a big bloke with him."

"He can handle himself," Yassen said calmly.

"Yeah?" Silver hummed quietly to himself, "I'll keep an eye out for him then."

Alex threw himself onto the bed with perfect accuracy after making sure the location of it with his hands. He sighed in happiness as he sank into soft mattress. The academy was one for richer individuals and their fee was being paid by Wolf's 'uncle' who, Alex knew, was MI6 behind the façade.

"Not bad today," Wolf commented sardonically, his tone flared in irritation at the memory of them standing outside of class for an hour straight and the minor consequence of being late to class.

"Quite," Alex replied sarcastically, "Wake me later."

"Dinner?" Wolf asked. He was acting more and more like his alias big brother Dean and Alex had to smother a laugh. Big brother and caring didn't go together with Wolf.

"In a minute," Alex groaned, "You don't know how much effort a blind person has to put in to live."

Wolf fell silent and Alex waited for the response hanging in the air. When he spoke again, his tone cried awkwardness, "If you need help, I, uh, can offer."

"Oh please," Alex rolled his eyes, "You stop me two seconds before I crash into a wall. My reaction speed are slower when I'm blind."

The awkwardness cleared almost immediately. Sentiments and Wolf didn't belong in the same sentence either.

"Well," Wolf said, shifting as he moved across the room to where he presumed was the bathroom, "Crash into walls all you like. I'll get changed and when I get out, you better be ready to go out."

"Where?" Alex asked.

"Eat out," Wolf grunted, "Where else?"

"All right," Alex said, rolling over but not getting up, "Whatever."

It strained him physically and mentally just to stay on his feet the whole day and not crash into anything. Physically for his every step was two times slower than his normal speed and mentally because neither Wolf nor Robert was helpful in their advice as to where to go and where not to go.

Alex closed his eyes, not that it would make much of a difference. It was weird, and sometimes downright scary, to wake up and everything would be…nothing. Not even black. He shook his head. Now wasn't the time.

The sound of Wolf walking out of the bathroom made him open his eyes instinctively but he shut them immediately, giving a loud strangled yelp, "For fuck's sake, pull on your shirt before you walk out of the bathroom!"

Then Alex froze as his mind fully took in the words he uttered, "Oh shit."

"You can see me?" Wolf's voice was full of surprise though muffled slightly as he put on a shirt. There were several degrees of awkwardness and embarrassment in his tone as well.

"No—I mean, yes-no!" Alex gave up and threw his hands in the air.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Wolf asked, walking closer.

Alex shook his head as he sat up, "It was just for a moment. Like a short flash but I closed my eyes afterward."

"Why did you close it then?" Wolf's tone was full of his scowl.

"And look at your shirtless back?" Alex shot back, "No, I don't swing that way."

"Just a flash then?" Wolf said and Alex didn't know why but the man's tone fell.

"Yeah."

"The doctor did say if you rest well," Wolf said, "it might return."

"Yeah, I guess," Alex was skeptical.

In the past three months, he had been resting far more than a normal person should have, in fact he had been resting like a damn corpse, but his eyesight did not improve. Unconsciously, he clenched his fists.

"Let's head out," Wolf finally said, walking to the door

"Lemme put on the shoes," Alex said and swallowed. He hated the way he had been thinking about his blindness. It was like a drowning man trying to grasp onto anything to pull himself up. He should just altogether forget about it. It would return when it felt like it. When, not if. That was something he would hold onto at the moment.

As he neared the door, Wolf released his hold on it and headed out with a grunt. Alex felt his finger made contact with the smooth wooden door. It was comforting, to know that there was something out there tha- Alex shook his head in frustration. Stop, he told himself.

The academy had issued a set of keys for both of them, one to their dorm, a second to the large gym adjacent to the dormitory building. Alex pulled out his from the pocket and reached out for the lock on beneath the handlebar. He could feel Wolf's glance on him and gritted his teeth.

Beneath the handlebar. A keyhole. A place. Anywhere. A whole. His key hit the metal plate and trailed down, left, right, everywhere. He could feel it, but he couldn't find it. Alex stiffened and pulled the key away and felt for the keyhole with his fingers. It was right there but as he lifted his finger away, the key once again hit the metal place, solid and hard, and nearly jarring his thumb in the process.

"Feigh…" Wolf began but Alex ignored him.

Alex trailed his left index finger down the plate and stopped right on the keyhole. There, he told himself, there it is. He lowered his right hand and tried to locate his left with the key. It met empty air but he knew his left hand was near. Thud. Not there. His right hand shook at the failure. He curled his hand into a fist before he relaxed. Just a keyhole, nothing more.

And this time, he couldn't be gladder to feel the vicious swipe of the key across his left index finger in his frustrated attempt. He paused and felt the key along his index finger and finally pushing into the keyhole. It made a smooth mechanical sound as the key was fully inserted and Alex turned. The door locked and he pulled it out, dropping it into his pocket and stood there.

Fuck.

For the last three months, he had never had a lot of chances to lock or unlock a door. He spent a whole month in the hospital and two more at home. Mrs. Jones had made his door passcode-based. He had no trouble locating the keypad and the nine numbers. But keys were on a whole new level.

Alex raised his foot in anger, but paused before it made contact with the door. It wasn't the door's fault.

Spinning around, Alex turned to face Wolf, "Let's go."

"Feigh, it-"

"I don't want to hear it," Alex cut him off abruptly.

"All right," Wolf wasn't pushing it as he guided Alex to the parking lot where he had parked his car. Each step Wolf took was semi-loud as his shoes clicked across the smooth marble surface, giving Alex a clue to where he was and where he was heading. Alex followed.

The drive was silent as Wolf searched for a nearby restaurant, "I would settle for McDonalds." The ex-soldier remarked after a moment.

Alex hummed quietly in agreement. Wolf took the next turn and pulled into a different parking lot and stopped the engine. There was a moment of silence as Alex waited for Wolf to open the door before exiting himself. Wolf didn't and Alex knew that Wolf was looking at him.

"I'm not going to blow," Alex said warily.

"You looked like you were," Wolf commented.

"I don't give a damn about it," Alex said, gritting his teeth then upon realizing his action, eased down.

"You look like you do."

Alex laughed humorlessly, "Since when did you become a therapist?"

"If you-"

"I don't give a damn!" Alex snarled as he turned toward the door, his hand reaching out to pull the bar.

He missed and grabbed the empty air, his fingers scrapping against the small uneven surface of the side.

A tremor ran through his body as Alex slumped backward, his hand dropping onto his legs. He clenched his hands together tightly and gritted his teeth, "I don't give a damn…"

"Then," There was unrestraint anger in Wolf's voice, "If you don't give a damn, don't act like you do!"

"Why the fuck are you getting angry?" Alex almost yelled, keeping his voice barely beneath the level.

"Because your fucked-up life is not something I want to listen to every fucking second!" Wolf really did explode, grabbing him forward by two fistful of his shirt. The man was heaving as he finished his short outburst, his fists curling and tightening against the fiber of his shirt.

"Go to hell," Alex said quietly.

Wolf pushed him back and Alex righted himself by putting a hand on the side of the car. The driver's door swung open abruptly and he felt Wolf leaving the car, slamming the door loudly behind him. Alex clenched his fists. Damn Wolf. Dammit. Dammit. Why?

Unable to hold back anymore, Alex lashed out on the car compartment before him. It didn't budge and when he drew his hand back, it hurt. The start of a bruise. He delivered a second punch and the car budged slightly. His hand jerked back in pain and he covered it with his other hand. It stung and he knew that he had hit the compartment too hard. But the anger and frustration was still there.

"Dammit," He swore loudly, "Dammit!"

Alex buried his face in his hands, feeling the first of the hot tears falling. Why was it affecting him so much? He hated it. He hated this. He hated MI6. He hated his life. He made a choking cry in the back of his throat and bent forward, pressing his forehead against his knees, his hand gripping his hair tightly, threatening to uproot them by the number.

"Dammit…" His cry went unnoticed in the small confined space of the car.

Wolf wasn't hungry but he took a seat nonetheless. No one asked him if he was here to eat or simply here to brood and vent off his anger. They probably wouldn't upon seeing his expressions. He glanced at his fists, curled and clenched before him on the table and he slowly relaxed, letting them drop into a half-curled palm up position. A moment later, they were curled and clenched again and he lowered his head.

Working on a mission with Coyote took more out of him than he had imagined. He had never thought of MI6 mission as easy of course, but this was beyond hard. Coyote was having trouble with the mission, they both knew it, yet none of them wanted to voice it. Coyote was blind for fuck's sake.

And the worse part was that he knew it was partially his fault. If he had managed to save Coyote before the building exploded, none of this would have happened. But he knew he couldn't reverse time. There was no point in guilt. He just have to do everything in his power to right the situation the best he could. He had promised K-Unit after all.

Wolf looked up as the door opened again. It wasn't Coyote. His gaze traveled to the parking lot, lit brightly by the high lampposts. He could make out the headrests, but not Coyote's shadow. Wolf frowned as he stood up.

The next person that came in wasn't Coyote either.

He was out the door the next second, walking toward the car. The car gave a gentle beep as he unlocked the doors with his key. Wolf pulled open the door and started as his eyes made out Coyote's shape in the darkness.

Coyote was bent over in his seat, his hands in his air and his shoulders shaking madly as sobs racked through his body.

Oh fuck. Fuck it.

Wolf stood there, not knowing what to do. It reminded him of war, but different. Instead of the raw emotion of losing someone, Coyote was literally radiating frustration and anger. In the form of raw heart-breaking emotions.

"Dammit…" Coyote didn't seem to be aware of his presence.

Wolf sat down in the driver's seat and the car lurched beneath him and Coyote froze for a moment and Wolf thought he would look up but he curled into himself even further.

"Hey," Wolf said awkwardly.

Coyote didn't respond. Wolf grimaced. He realized that he was harsher than he had intended. With one last glance, Wolf started the engine. Coyote didn't look up but Wolf couldn't make out the shudders anymore through the tremors of the car.

Casting one more glance at Coyote, Wolf set his heart. He wasn't going to apologize. Coyote had to learn. The world wasn't Coyote-centric. And he didn't join MI6 for Coyote just so that Coyote could vent off on him. Wolf's grip tightened on the steering wheel and glanced at Coyote once more.

He just hoped that cops wouldn't be on them for not strapping in in the shot-gun seat.

The silence was nerve-shattering and there were so many times Wolf was tempted to say something. Anything. Hell, he would be satisfied if he could just turn on the bloody radio to any station. But whenever his eyes fell on Coyote's shivering form, he paused.

Wolf turned at the next intersection and pulled into the campus ground, circling around to the dormitory building parking lot. As he pulled the key out, the car beneath him shuddered to a stop. And so did Coyote. His ex-unit member straightened slowly and Wolf swallowed at how red the man's eyes were. Oh fuck.

"We're here," Wolf said and cleared his throat. The silence was getting to him.

Coyote got out of the car slowly and Wolf followed suit, locking the car behind them when both the doors were shut. Wolf began walking, his shoes making loud noises as it made contact with the sand and stone beneath him. He knew that Coyote was never going to ask him to help and this was the least he could do. He glanced back and turned back when he spotted Coyote only a few steps behind him.

He stopped before their door and unlocked it, remembering the pure frustration on Coyote's face as his ex-unit member failed attempts after attempts to lock the door. Wolf pushed the door open for Coyote but the man didn't budge.

"We're here," Wolf said.

Coyote's eyes were puffy and red when they found his, "Lock the door."

Wolf knew what the man was up to immediately and he swallowed, "Coy—Feigh, you don't ha—"

"Lock the door," It was more forceful this time.

Wolf paused for a moment before he relented and headed inside. His hands hovered over the lock and he turned it finally. The lock clicked into place. Wolf settled down in a chair facing the wall and buried his face in his hands as he heard Coyote's key began scratching against the door.

Bloody hell, Coyote.

There was a moment of silence and Wolf thought he had given up. Then a moment later, the key was inserted and the door opened as the lock pulled back to allow Coyote in.

Wolf cleared his throat, "A little slower than I thought."

"Next time," Coyote replied after a moment.

That wasn't the reply he wanted-he didn't know what he wanted to hear anyways-but he knew that the comment he made was the right thing to say.