EDIT: I uploaded the wrong chapter because I am, in fact, an idiot. I don't think anyone saw it (ffnet viewcounter pls be reliable) but anyway, here is the finished thing.

The world sure has changed since last update, huh? I think we're all taking comfort in stories right now, so, without further ado,

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Wolf gets angry sometimes. That much is true. But even in his blackest of moods, there's this annoying little voice in his head that's always trying to talk him down. Maybe it's his conscience, or an angel on his shoulder, or, as his sister once put it, "just your own fucking brain, shithead" – whatever it is, it's pleading for Cub right now like a defence attorney in a murder trial.

What if it's not him? the voice suggests as Wolf speed-tickets his way back to the flat. But of course it's him. Who else could it be? Another agent. No. There are too many coincidences. Cub has to be involved somehow. Okay, so what if he's doing this under some kind of coercion? Six is messy. You don't know what he's gotten himself mixed up in. Hear his side of the story first.

But even if only half of it is true, then Cub has still lied. He's lied and lied and lied.

How would Wolf believe anything the kid said?

As he runs his third red light, Wolf tries to force this little debate club exercise out of his mind. He needs to keep his head clear. Best case scenario, Cub is still in the flat, and he has no idea that Wolf knows what he knows. That way, Wolf can take him by surprise when he gets there and hopefully (hopefully) subdue him somehow before anyone else has to get involved. Worst case scenario… Well, there could be a lot of worst case scenarios. Probably best not to think about those right now.

Wolf's had a lot of strategy training, but one memory that comes back to him is when he watched The Lord of the Rings with his sister, back when they were teenagers. His sister had not been impressed with the last movie to say the least, and she'd thrown popcorn at the screen when the eagles showed up. Why don't you like them? Wolf had asked her, and Lucia had pulled a face. They just show up in random places, she'd said. You don't know when they're gonna turn up and save the day, because you never know what they want. It's annoying.

So, he thinks now, what does Cub want? What's the motive here? It could just be for money. Selling MI6's secrets. This is the twenty-first century, with a thousand sources of misinformation - truths are worth more than they've ever been, to the right buyer, and Lord knows Cub must know some classified things. Is it as simple as that - or is there something else going on here? And where does Wolf fit into this picture? Why did Cub come to him, and not anybody else?

There's something missing from the picture. Well, there are a lot of things missing, to be honest, but there's something in particular. A major puzzle piece. Wolf has felt its absence since Cub first arrived. He racks his brains, trying to figure it out what it is as memories flicker before his eyes.

Playing cards weaving in and out of each other...

A humorless smile...

Blood in the carpet...

Stitches in an oddly-shaped wound...

Wolf parks the car on a side street and makes his way to the building on foot. He takes the stairs, treading lightly, and when he slips his key into the front door, he squeezes the other keys on the fob so they don't jangle. This is just a mission, he tries to tell himself, and he imagines how the Sergeant might brief him. Extract the dangerous agent. Be aware of his abilities. Don't let him get away.

When Wolf steps through the front door, the flat is still and dark and utterly silent.

The only warning he gets is a rush of air from the side, before he's ducking a punch that would have knocked him out cold.

Wolf recovers quickly because there's no other option. Instinct tells him where the kid is. He kicks out and his foot connects with a shin, making his attacker dance back, far enough for Wolf to wheel himself upright, fists clenched at the ready.

Cub is a ghost in the gloom. The sight of him almost makes Wolf shudder. This is not the grinning teenager who was kicking back on his sofa just a few hours ago. No - right now, Wolf's can only think that Cub looks like a spy. A thing made of shadow, only half-there.

"Cub," Wolf tries to keep his voice level, "Just tell me what's going on, yeah? Just tell me why everyone's looking for you, and we can figure something out. We don't have to fight about this."

But Cub shakes his head. The element of surprise has certainly gone out of the window.

"You can't do anything about it," says Cub, his voice oddly flat, "And I'm not going to let you get in my way."

He lashes out so quickly that he's hardly more than a blur, and then Wolf has no more opportunity to try and reason with the kid. It takes all his energy to defend himself against Cub's attacks. He throws a punch to the ribs; Wolf blocks. Cub seizes the momentum, trying to use Wolf's own movement against him and flip him over, but Wolf sees it coming and steels himself against the move. Then he takes advantage of the proximity, kicking out to sweep Cub's feet out from under him-

If the kid hadn't sprung back in the nick of time, slipping out of his grasp.

It's Cub's eyes, more than anything, that are close to throwing Wolf off. As they circle each other, the kid's gaze is unnervingly empty. His face is pure calculation, a blank screen, and if Cub is a machine then he's a deadly one.

But as the fight continues (minutes, it must only last minutes, although it feels like anything between a second and a year) a pattern emerges, and despite Cub's almost unnatural level of skill, it's not in his favour. Before long, Wolf realises that he's backing the kid into a corner. Cub is losing ground. He's good, impossibly good for his age, but just like before, there's something holding him back, and this time Wolf knows it must be the injury. It's dulling his edge, injecting a stiffness in some of Cub's movements that's giving Wolf an advantage.

When he next throws a punch, Wolf sees it coming. He sees the slight grimace in Cub's lips, obviously steeling himself against the pain of fighting with a fresh injury. Wolf acts quickly, grabbing the kid on his unguarded side and twisting him into a choke-hold. As Cub thrashes out against him, Wolf can feel him struggling for breath. A heel driven into Wolf's foot gets him free, but Wolf can see the slightly wild look in his eyes as he jerks away, and Wolf knows that he's realised the same thing.

Wolf is better prepared for this fight.

Wolf is going to win.

He's already thinking about how he will end this. At some point, the balance has flipped, and although Cub initiated this, it's Wolf who is on the offensive now. He just needs to subdue the kid somehow - not do him any serious damage, but make sure he's not a threat anymore, and then Wolf can figure out what he's going to do about this, who he's going to call...

Wolf aims a punch at Cub's kidneys. But instead of blocking the move, as he has been doing so far, Cub twists mid-air. In the briefest of seconds, Wolf doesn't have time to think. Suddenly, he sees his fist heading towards a different spot - towards the exact spot of the knife wound - a blow will surely tear the injury back open, and have Cub bleeding out on the floor all over again-

Instinct, not logic, pulls the punch.

And in his split-second hesitation, Cub's knee comes up, sinking into his gut. All the breath vacates Wolf's lungs. His vision is a patchwork of stars. He opens his mouth (Cub will listen; Cub has to listen) but before he can get a word out, there's a sharp pinch in his arm.

Wolf is flooded with the strange sensation that the room is rising around him, and then he's out.

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When he manages to get his eyes open again, Wolf recognises his own bedroom wallpaper.

"Oh, you're kidding me."

So, he's trussed up with his own zip-ties, tied to his own desk chair, in his own flat. Great. Fantastic. When the SAS finds out about this, they won't even have to fire him; he'll resign out of embarrassment.

Cub, sitting cross-legged on the bed, glances up. Wolf's laptop is open in front of him, and as his eyes adjust, Wolf's realises that the kid is wearing his favourite hoodie. Which doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, but it just feels like salt in the wound right now, to be honest.

"Hey, Wolf."

Wolf suppresses a grimace. Yep, turns out that going one-on-one with an agent is a bloody terrible idea. He can feel bruises coming up on his arms, and his ribs have definitely felt better, although thankfully nothing feels broken. He knows what that feels like. When he stretches his neck, pain needles through his temple.

"Did you use a fucking horse tranquiliser on me?"

Cub has the audacity to roll his eyes. "Bit dramatic, aren't you? It was just anaesthetic. You'll be fine."

Anaesthetic. So Cub planned this, all along – or accounted for the possibility, at least. He must have brought it with him when he broke away from Six, hidden it in the flat somewhere over the past days, because Wolf sure as fuck doesn't have that in his supplies.

It leaves a bitter taste in Wolf's mouth.

"Mmm. You know, I'd feel a lot better if you let me out of these fucking ties."

"Ah, sorry. No can do. If it helps, this is nothing personal."

Nothing person— "You broke into my fucking house. You convinced me you were - you were a scared kid. Vulnerable. Then you stayed under my roof for days while all the time you were— you were—"

What is Cub doing exactly? Wolf's eyes fall to the laptop, and a thrill of fear runs through him.

"Cub, I swear to God, if you're hacking into SAS files-"

"Jesus Christ, can you relax for a second? I'm not interested in your little SAS Christmas party videos."

"Then what are you even doing here? What are you doing on my fucking laptop, Cub?"

Cub doesn't reply. Wolf curses a bit more, out of sheer anger more than anything. The worst part is that he has no-one to be angry at but himself. He knew the kid was an agent, a skilled liar, and that Wolf had no reason to believe what he was saying was the truth. Wolf knew that. Yet he still fell for it. He fell for it right until the end, where Cub pulled the dirtiest trick in the book: betting on the fact that Wolf would pull the punch rather than seriously hurt him.

"I should have turned you in the second you showed up here."

Cub's fingers stop typing for a second. "Yeah," he says after a beat, his voice neutral. "Probably."

"Are you even gonna tell me what you're doing?"

"Hmm..." Cub drums his fingers on the keyboard. "Nah. I've been on the end of a few villain monologues, Wolf. They're tedious, and repetitive, and if you don't mind, I have things I actually need to be doing. How about you just let me get on with it, and it'll be painless as possible for both of us?"

Wolf really shouldn't reply "How about you go fuck yourself?" but he's pissed off, so he does, and Cub turns back to the screen, face impassive. And then there's nothing for Wolf to do but stew in his own anger, until eventually it simmers down enough that he's able to think properly.

Alright, is his first thought. I'm definitely going to be out of these ties in the next five minutes. Cub's might be good at his job, but so is Wolf, and at the moment, Cub's too absorbed in whatever he's doing on his laptop to notice Wolf carefully edging the penknife down from his sleeve. Luckily, "Never tie their hands behind their back" was one of the lessons they learned at Brecon after Cub left.

His next thought is that Eagle definitely picked up on the fact that something was wrong during their phone-call, and he'll probably have told Snake. Wolf wonders what they'll do about it. Call HQ, or come over here themselves? Either way, Wolf doubts it'll just be him and Cub here for long. When the cavalry show up, it'll all be over for the kid then.

And then, as Wolf slips the tie off his right hand, a pinprick pain throbs in his right arm, which gives him pause. He thinks of Cub rolling his eyes. It was just anaesthetic. You'll be fine. It occurs to Wolf, for the first time, that Cub could have knocked him out properly, action-movie-style, bashed him over the head and given him a serious head injury. Shit, Cub could have even killed him.

But he didn't.

Ugh. Wolf finds himself wishing that this whole thing were more clear-cut - that Cub was either completely innocent or a complete villain, and he didn't have to feel so damn bad about the fact that this is definitely going to end with the kid disappearing into some bottomless MI6 dungeon.

When he's cut through the first tie, he glances up at Cub, knowing he should keep talking so he doesn't get suspicious about the silence. Cub, however, doesn't seemed to be overly concerned with his hostage. He's staring at the laptop screen so intensely that Wolf can hear his mother saying That'll give you square eyes if you look at it for too long. As Wolf looks the kid over, his head tilts. Maybe it's the shitty lighting, but Cub looks... kind of rough. He's pretty sure even white kids aren't supposed to be that pale. Or have that drawn-out, I-could-use-three-weeks-of-sleep look. Wolf looks the kid up and down, and notices that he's leaning a little - just a little - on his left side, and using his left hand on the laptop mouse, even though Wolf is pretty sure he's right-handed.

"Not having any luck?" Wolf ventures.

Cub doesn't reply, but his lips twist. Irritation, Wolf thinks.

"You know, Cub, you've definitely looked better."

"Oh, thanks. You're no oil painting yourself."

"It's the knife wound, isn't it? It's still giving you hell."

"Oh, for fuck's… yes, okay?" Cub pinches the bridge of his nose. "Is that what you want to hear, Florence fucking Nightingale? Yes, it's still giving me hell, 'cause that thing was bloody awful to get out, and-"

Abruptly, he stops. But he's already said enough.

"What?" Wolf frowns. "What was hard to get out? The knife?"

He sees Cub take a deep breath, and turn firmly back to the laptop screen. "Shut the fuck up, would you, Wolf?"

But Wolf can feel the pieces sliding together in his mind. Bloody awful to get out. He's not talking about the knife. It doesn't sound right. Wolf thinks of the odd shape of the wound, curiously wedged between organs - almost like it was never intended to do real damage, despite the blood loss. He thinks of the things Cub has said, over the past few days, about the group who attacked him. The way they operate is wrong. They've gone unchecked for a long time. And now, now that Wolf knows that it was Six that Cub was running from all along...

You could say they were, uh, keeping track of me.

"Holy shit," Wolf breathes, his eyes widening as it all falls into place. "Cub - your injury. Was it… did Six…"

Cub's eyes snap up. His face drains of what little colour it had.

And then his eyes close, and Wolf can see the moment that he gives in.

"Well done, Sherlock Wolf. You've cracked it. Yeah - they put a tracker in me."

"Fucking hell. Fucking hell."

Wolf's head spins as he tries to take the information in. If Cub had straight up told him, Wolf might not have believed him. But he saw it for himself. That wasn't a combat wound, it was a surgical one: extracting something that had already been implanted, and doing a pretty brutal job of it.

"Wait… Cub, did you do that to yourself?"

"Well, what was I going to do, walk into A and E and ask them to perform surgery on me? Not that you care, Wolf, but I never wanted anything to do with MIfucking6. God, I was fourteen! My entire family was dead! By the time I was old enough to make a choice, it was pretty bloody clear I wasn't allowed to leave." Cub's head falls to his hands. He really does look like shit. "I got injured on a mission, about a year ago. I woke up after surgery and they'd put a tracker in me. D'you understand now, Wolf? Sorry that I lied to you, sorry that I knocked you out - but I had to get away from them. I couldn't stand it any fucking longer."

And finally, Wolf does understand. He can see it playing out, in his head: Cub planning it out, cutting out the device, running to Wolf's doorstep for protection. He understands, and it makes his stomach turn over. It throws everything that he knows about Cub - everything about his relationship with Six - into a different light.

"And before you ask," says Cub, his voice weary now. "I needed your laptop because I need evidence. Anything I can find that incriminates Blunt and Jones. At the moment, it's just my word against theirs, and they have some pretty convincing psychiatrists on hand to testify that I'm a compulsive liar and I'm too traumatised by my uncle's death to know what I'm saying.

"I need solid proof of what they did. I figure the SAS might have something in their digital archives about me training with them. You don't have access to those, but I can work with your clearance level and hack the rest of the way in. And then... I figured MI5 are too close to Blunt to act, right? The CIA are in their pocket too, and well as ASIS… I think the only option is taking it to international level."

Wolf's brow creases. "What?"

"Well, they broke international law with me, didn't they? Even Six are supposed to be accountable to the UN. If I can get proof of what they did, the plan was to take it to the embassy in the city centre. Ask for protection. I thought about trying to send a message, or make a call, but Blunt would trace and intercept it. This was the only way to do it."

This is, quite literally, the last thing Wolf expected to hear. But when he thinks about it, it makes perfect sense. This isn't a betrayal... it's a getaway. An old-fashioned cut-and-run.

"I thought…"

"That I was going darkside?" Cub raises an eyebrow. "Selling national secrets? Yeah, I'm sure that's how they're making it look. They control the media, you know?"

"But why not just go underground?" Surely that would be the easier option than this?

"And spend my whole life on the run? No. They'd find me before the year was out. They're too powerful. I've got to-"

"Make friends with the bigger fish," Wolf finishes, remembering what Cub said earlier that day.

So this is what Cub meant by that. His options were to hide, knowing Six would find him, or make a big, dramatic break for it and take on the whole Secret Service with no allies, no evidence, and nothing to his name. Wolf almost thinks it's the most insane plan he's ever heard, but then he remembers the snowboard in France, and realises that this is probably the usual level of madness in Cub's plans.

And regardless of how insane it is, Wolf also knows that he has to be a part of it.

"Okay," he says, nodding slowly. "Okay. So how are we going to do this?"

Cub stares. "I'm starting to think you don't really understand what the word 'hostage' means."

Wolf snorts. "Give over, kid. We both know I could have gotten out of these ties by now, if I wanted to." In reality, he has already gotten out of them, but he needs Cub to trust him, and if he reveals that now it'll send the kid straight onto the defensive. Wolf doesn't want this to turn into another fight. "You say you're doing this because you've been treated like shit. Alright. I believe you. And I don't particularly want to see Six lock you up and throw away the key, so-"

"No," Cub cuts him off. "Stop it. Stop - whatever this is. I'm not fooling for it."

Wolf blinks. "I'm trying to help you, kid."

But Cub is shaking his head. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"

Frustration builds in Wolf. "So you're gonna let your trust issues get you killed?"

"I don't need your help. I've managed on my own fine this far, thanks."

"Really? Then how are you gonna get all the way across London when the whole SAS is looking for you? I know their tactics. I can help you avoid getting caught. I meant what I said earlier, you know. About K Unit being like a family."

"You spent a week making my life hell in Brecon, and then - what? Three hours with me on the Point Blanc mission? Because your higher-ups told you to be there. I don't have an actual family to compare notes because they're all six feet under, but if that's your definition of family, Wolf, it's a bit fucking sad."

Wolf's mouth twists. Cub is lashing out because he's scared, he reminds himself, and tries not to let it get to him.

"You need my help. I can get you what you want. You want evidence that Six used you as an agent? You won't find that stuff in the archives, kid. They'll have covered their tracks too well. But I can give it to you, if you work with me."

Cub doesn't look away from the screen, but Wolf can tell that he has the kid's attention.

"I told you before," he continues. "I have a sister. When we were training at Brecon, I wrote to her. Old fashioned letters, you know? She likes that kind of thing. And I mentioned you. I mentioned there was this teenager that had been put into our unit. Mostly bitching about you, to be honest. But it's evidence, isn't it?"

"Where are these letters now?"

"At her house, probably. I know she'll have kept them. Is that enough for you?"

"That…" Cub leans back, pushes a hand through his hair. "That could actually work."

"Yeah, it could. But you know what, Cub? I can get you something even better." Cub says nothing, and Wolf takes a steadying breath. "First-hand testimony. I'll come with you and I'll tell them everything I know. About you training with us. About the mission in France - what almost happened to you there. How about that?"

Cub does not exactly respond with the enthusiasm that Wolf hoped for. He says nothing, and then turns back to the screen.

Fuck, Wolf thinks. "Come on, kid. You're not going to get a better opportunity than-"

"I said no, okay? I'm doing this on my own."

Wolf wants to scream in frustration. He wants to force Cub to see the reality of: if he tries to fly solo on this one, with the literal army he is up against, he's going to get himself killed. Wolf's hands itch to make a move, to take control of the situation. He could take the kid by surprise, and he'd win the fight this time. It's what instinct it telling him to do. His body is so lined with tension that it's taking more effort not to act…

But he can't. Because that's what Six have done: take decisions away from Cub, strip him of his agency. If Wolf does that, he'll lose Cub's trust, permanently.

Think, James, he wills himself. Use that thing between your ears.

He wets his lips before speaking again. "I'm sorry for how I acted at Brecon. I was a complete dickhead."

Cub pauses. "Yeah. Yeah, you were."

"I know it's not an excuse, but if it makes any difference, it's 'cause I was bloody terrified. I thought-"

"I would get the unit failed. Get you kicked out. I know."

Wolf nods. It's not surprise that Cub worked it out. "And I was jealous as well, to be honest," he adds. "You were… well, you were better than you had any right to be. Made me feel like I wasn't good enough to be there, if a kid was able to do so well."

That puts a gleam of surprise in Cub's eyes.

"The point is, Cub, I'm sorry that I was such a piece of shit. But - Jesus, kid, I never wanted anything bad to happen to you. When we found you in France, I thought you were dead. Did you know that? You were all crumpled at the bottom of that railway track, and there were these spikes everywhere, and blood in the snow. And all I could think was, fuck, this is all my fault. My fault for not getting to you sooner. And… when you showed up here, last week… I thought you were dead again and… shit. I just really don't want you to get yourself killed. I'm sorry if I say it in the wrong words. And I'm sorry if I ever treated you like you were a child. I know you're probably smarter than everyone in a mile's radius. That's how I know that you're smart enough to know the odds, here."

Wolf takes a deep breath. Cub hasn't moved an inch.

"I wasn't kidding when I said that every SAS unit is looking for you. They're all getting ready to take you in. We've been on standby for days already. They know you're in London, and they're probably narrowing down your location right now. I really, really don't want to see this end the way it's gonna end, if you try to do this by yourself, Cub."

Wolf realises that he's pleading with the kid. He also realises that he doesn't care, right now, how undignified it might make him look. He doesn't care a single bit.

"I pulled the punch, didn't I?" says Wolf. "You pulled that trick because you knew that I would."

Cub is still as painted scenery. He stares at Wolf for a long, long time, until they're past uncomfortable and into unnerving. Then, finally, he pulls his hands back from the laptop, clasping them together in his lap.

"It's Alex," he says very quietly.

"Huh?"

"My name is Alex. Not Cub."

Holy shit. "Right. Right. Okay. I'm - er - James."

"Yeah, I know."

"Oh, right. Hacked file, and all that."

"Yeah." Wolf thinks he sees Cub's lip twitch a little, before his expression sobers. "And you're right. I know the odds. It's just…"

He stops, and for a moment, the mask slips. The mask which makes him seem like an infallible spy, capable to the point of being untouchable, which Wolf didn't even realise he'd been wearing until suddenly it is gone. Wolf sees real fear in Cub's eyes for the first time, and his chest aches with sympathy. Jesus - the kid is terrified. How long has it been since he last trusted someone?

"I get it," says Wolf. "You know, after my mum died, I didn't know how to do shit. I was sixteen, and I didn't know how to cook or clean or any of that - and my sister was working, she was too busy to take care of those things. But I didn't know, so I just didn't do any of it-" Wolf is rambling, and he never meant to say any of this to Cub, but it feels like he's saying the right thing so he just keeps going- "-and it got to the point, right, where I hadn't had a lightbulb in my room for three weeks 'cause I didn't want to ask my sister to change it. Even though I knew I'd have to do it sooner or later. I was a fuckin' mess. Shit, Cub - I mean, Alex. D'you get the point I'm trying to make?"

Cub's lip quirks. "How many SAS soldiers does it take to change a lightbulb?"

"Ah, Fox said that one too."

"But I do get your point. Yeah." Cub chews on his lip. "Screw it. Okay, then. If you want to come with me - give testimony - I'm not going to stop you."

Wolf lets out the heaviest breath of his life. Thank Christ.

"But just so you know. If you double cross me, I'll come back to haunt you."

Wolf rolls his eyes, but a chill dances up his spine.

"Alright." He flexes his arms and tosses away the now-defunct zipties. "So, what do we do first?"

And then, as if in reply, the window shatters.

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So there it is. The plots are a-twisted. The secrets are out in the open. Next chapter, we're into the final act.

Please let me know what you thought? Surprised? Not surprised? Reviews really do make me Feel An Emotion. (And there were some particularly kind ones last chapter, thank you.)

I love you all, take care x