James SanLuca was having a terrible morning. His bad mood had actually started a couple of months ago but today had been the worst so far. He was on temporary leave with the rest of his unit and James was just the kind of guy that couldn't deal with doing nothing, it was showing.

He'd woken up that morning at 5am, as he did every day. It was a habit developed in the Brecon Beacons that he doubted would ever stop. James had crawled out of bed feeling barely human, just because he got up at 5 didn't mean he functioned immediately. The night before he'd had a nightmare so he still felt exhausted, that may have been part of the reason for forgetting to disable his intruder alarm.

Now, James wouldn't say he was paranoid, just that the SAS had instilled a sense of caution in him. His unit would disagree. They thought he'd gone slightly crazy, but he didn't mind, if his habits kept out unwanted guests then they were worth it and sometimes, that meant K-Unit too. The alarm made a huge noise, it drilled into James' head disorientating him briefly before throwing his senses into overdrive. He practically dived down the remaining stairs grabbing a gun from underneath a chest of draws, he aimed it at the front door. Then his brain caught up and realised there was no threat, he'd just done this too himself. There was a quite sigh and he put the gun back. It was one of a number hidden around his apartment.

The next thought that pinged into his brain was coffee, so he slouched to the kitchen to make a big mug. Outside he heard the screeching of tires and he briefly wondered what idiot was doing donuts in the outskirts of London at 5.30 in the morning. He then went back to staring tiredly at the kettle.

A couple of seconds later the sound of someone running up the stairs just drifted up to him and for the second time that morning he felt his heart quicken as adrenaline began to race through his veins. He stopped stirring his coffee and took a deep breath. It was just too god damn early. He pulled another gun out from behind the microwave and aimed it towards his door, adopting the correct stance for shooting. Arms up, both gripping the gun, deep breaths to steady them, feet slightly apart, shoulders back but relaxed. The steps halted right outside the door, James inched forward gun still raised, a key turned in the lock, his brow creased who on earth had a key to his flat? He gripped the gun tighter and steadied it again, the door flew open and…

"Fox?"

Ben Daniels stood in the doorway eyes wild, flitting side to side looking for all the world like his name sake running from a pack of hounds. He's wearing what looks like it might once have been part of a suite, the shirt was no longer white but covered in mud and more alarming an enormous amount of blood. There were tears in everything he wore, from his left knee all the way to his thigh there was a rip in his suite trousers, blood was smeared over the area but was mostly dry. His hair was matted and much darker than James was used to seeing it, though he wasn't sure if that was because it had been died or because it was covered in something else. Ben was also clutching his arm which was hanging limply by his side, blood dripping down his sleeve. All in all, he looked like a feral animal that had just been hit by a truck.

"What the fuck?" James exclaimed after looking Fox up and down.

"Wolf we've got no time you have to help me".

If it had been anyone else James would've hesitated, he would've stopped to ask questions, but this was Fox, so he followed him straight back out the door. They ran down the stairs and pelted through the front door into the street. It briefly occurred to James that they must look mad and that someone might try to call the police, but the kind of trouble a MI6 agent like Fox might have gotten into wasn't the kind the police could deal with, he put it out of his mind.

A short way up the road they stopped at a car that James didn't recognise, it had scratch marks all over the black paint and shattered blackout windows all along one side, some of the marks looked an awful like bullet holes. He swallowed heavily and took a deep breath. Fox had got there just before him and had flung one of the back doors open. James could just make out a figure on the black leather seats, lying sideways across them and not moving, he couldn't even see if they were breathing.

The two men grabbed the thirds legs and began to pull him out the car.

"Careful Wolf, he's injured.", James' only response was a grunt and he readjusted his grip on the third mans leg.

After a bit of awkward shuffling they maneuvered the man so he was leaning against the car. Noticing Fox still favouring his left arm James hauled the man over his shoulder and began jogging back to his flat, being careful not to jostle the unconscious man too much. Running up the stairs was difficult, but it didn't matter one of his unit needed his help and he would do it without thinking. Even if said member had deserted them for MI6. He heard the door to the apartment building slam shut behind him and hoped that Fox had also locked it.

He lay the man he was carrying down on his sofa, glad that he'd bought one in black leather, the blood and dirt might wash out, not that he really cared.

James looked at the man on his sofa for the first time. It was hard to make out through the layers of grime, but he had fair blonde hair that lay over his face around the edges, and handsome features, under the ratty cloths looked well-built but athletic. James suspected that if he opened his eyes, they'd be a chocolate brown colour and too serious. He looked just like an older… Cub?

"Fuck, Cub?", James almost whispered, his voice coming out horse.

He turned around to see Fox once again standing in the door. This time he didn't have the wild look about him, he just looked wary and tired. Both his hands dropped to his sides and he took a step forward. And then promptly passed out. James rushed towards him and caught Fox just as his head was about to come into contact with the floor. He placed him into the recovery position and stood up.

"Fuck", James said louder this time, looking rapidly between to two men on his clean carpeted floor, both bleeding and both filthy.

And then he walked swiftly over to his phone and pressed speed dial number 2. It rung twice before a voice on the other end groggily said, "What the hell Wolf it's not even 6am".

"Snake we have a problem can you be at my flat in ten? Wait make that 15 pick up Eagle on the way and make sure you bring your med kit. The big one. And be careful, the threat hasn't been neutralised."

Snake understood the situation immediately and just like Wolf when Fox turned up didn't question anything. Which was just as well because James was exhausted and had no idea what was going on or why Fox had turned up with a mere kid in the early hours of the morning both looking like they'd been attacked by some country's mafia. Which, Wolf contemplated, may well have been a possibility. He walked over to the two men to see what he could to for them before the team medic arrived.