Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sharp, controlled breaths of the soldiers blended into the crisp air as they awaited the arrival of their "guests." A week. That's how long they'd been told they'd need to put up with the CIA. Not that there was anything wrong with them, they just work in a very different way to k-unit and it doesn’t work well.

Wolf stood at the front, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. His eyes followed the black helicopters descending, rotors slicing through the morning fog. The whole affair screamed of an unnecessary show of force, something the SAS never bothered with. The Brits worked in silence, their achievements unspoken yet palpable. But the CIA seemed to thrive on spectacle, and as the first agent disembarked with his dark sunglasses and flashy gear, it became clear they weren’t here to blend in.

How they were going to camouflage looking like that was a mystery to everyone. Clearly not something they had considered. Makes the job of k-unit easy, when against each other, there would be no question of who fails to blend into the woods. Its is going to make K-unit look even better at their job. No reason to complain they suppose.

From his spot by the Land Rover, Alex Rider watched with a mixture of mild amusement and resignation. He’d grown up fast in this world. With the dangerous missions, he understood the subtleties of the game. The Americans, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice they were not blending in as well as they were expected to.

The chatter started immediately, breaking the silence of the SAS that Wolf held dear. Laughter, sharp voices, and the constant buzzing of radios filled the air as if they were on a movie set rather than a covert military base. Alex shot a glance at Wolf, who looked like he was chewing glass, his whole body stiff with the effort of not snapping. Alex knew it wasn’t anger that had Wolf on edge, but a deep discomfort with the noise, the chaos, the lack of order in the way the CIA men moved. Wolf’s eyes darted, tracking each motion, a flicker of irritation running through him every time someone didn’t follow the unspoken rhythm that kept the SAS moving like a well-oiled machine.

“They’re… lively,” Alex said, voice low, lips twitching at the understatement.

Wolf grunted beside him, his eyes narrowing at the group. “Lively. Yeah. One word for it.”

Across the clearing, Snake had already begun trying to steer the visiting agents towards the briefing room. It was like herding cats. The CIA team barely acknowledged him, continuing their loud conversations, one of them even pulling out a map and unfolding it in the middle of the open space, talking animatedly about terrain and infiltration routes as if the SAS hadn’t already been living and breathing this ground for years.

Alex shook his head, turning his attention back to the team. That’s when he saw him.

Joe Byrne.

The sharp-featured deputy director of the CIA was stepping out of the helicopter, his boots crunching against the wet gravel. Alex felt a jolt of recognition, memories of the Skeleton Key mission flashing in his mind. Byrne hadn't changed much since then—still the same unreadable expression, still carrying the weight of authority with an ease that suggested he'd been in this game far too long. For a moment, Alex considered slipping back into the crowd, avoiding a reunion he hadn’t particularly looked forward to. But Byrne’s eyes caught his, and that brief flicker of surprise told Alex there was no escaping it.

“Rider,” Byrne said, walking over, his voice low and familiar.

“Byrne,” Alex replied, keeping his tone neutral.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here. What is it MI6 has you doing now? Cross-training with the SAS?” Byrne’s eyes scanned him, sharp and assessing, as if he were trying to piece together why Alex was there. And Alex could tell Byrne knew more than he was letting on.

“I get around,” Alex said vaguely, shrugging.

Byrne gave a slight nod, the same tight, businesslike smile on his face. “You always do.”

Before the conversation could go any further, Wolf’s voice cut through the awkward tension. “Cub, inside. Now.”

Alex didn’t argue, slipping into step beside the SAS leader as they walked toward the briefing room. He didn’t miss the way Byrne’s gaze followed them both, lingering on Wolf for a second longer than necessary. It was clear the deputy director hadn’t forgotten how the SAS operated. Byrne had always been sharp, and Alex suspected the CIA’s top brass didn’t just send him over for some "tactical collaboration."

The briefing room was a far cry from the chaos outside. Inside, the SAS sat in calm, focused silence as Snake outlined the week’s plans. The CIA agents took their seats with far less grace, dragging their chairs across the concrete floor, tossing papers onto the table as though it were a casual team meeting. One of them, a tall man with a deep voice, was still talking about the ‘precision’ of some raid he’d led a few months back, apparently unaware that the room had already moved on.

Wolf’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table. Alex didn’t need to look at him to know the ticking clock was starting to push Wolf toward his limit. He knew the signs—the way Wolf’s breathing changed, his focus sharpening like a blade, every stimulus stacking up like a weight that would soon tip the balance from silent frustration to something far sharper.

Snake, ever patient, pressed on. “We’ll be running joint exercises tomorrow, starting with recon and small-unit tactics. We’ll need everyone in sync.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the still-talking CIA agent, but the man didn’t catch it.

Alex watched the interaction closely, leaning back in his chair as Snake tried, with all the subtlety in the world, to steer the CIA team onto the same page. The agents either didn’t notice or didn’t care. A couple of them flipped through their notebooks, clearly more interested in discussing what they thought they could "teach" the SAS than actually listening.

A slight shuffle beside Alex drew his attention. Wolf was no longer sitting still. His foot tapped lightly against the floor, his fingers drummed once on the table. For Wolf, the constant talking of the CIA agents must have felt like an assault on his senses. Every motion out of sync, every raised voice, must have grated against the precision Wolf craved in everything he did.

At the back of the room, one of the CIA men took out a water bottle, dropping it on the floor with a loud thud. Another pulled out his phone and started swiping, the bright screen an intrusion in the dimly lit space.

Alex glanced at Wolf. He could see the older man’s shoulders tighten, his gaze locking onto the screen like it was a threat. Wolf’s voice, when it finally came, was as sharp as a knife-edge.

“You gonna put that away, or do you need an invitation?”

The room went still. The agent blinked, clearly not used to being called out. He pocketed his phone quickly, but not without muttering something under his breath.

Wolf’s eyes flicked to Snake, and the unspoken understanding passed between them. Wolf wasn’t one for diplomacy, but Alex knew Snake would handle it. The balance had to be maintained, if only for the sake of the mission.

The rest of the briefing continued in strained silence, the air thick with the tension between two teams who couldn’t be more different in how they approached the world. And for Alex, sitting between these two forces—one silent and coiled, the other loud and unwieldy—it was only a matter of time before something snapped.

---

The next morning, the joint exercises began. The SAS moved like clockwork, quietly adjusting to every change in terrain. They communicated with brief hand signals, a raised eyebrow, or a nod.

The CIA agents, by contrast, were a blur of radio chatter and heavy footsteps. They talked constantly, their conversations cutting through the forest as if stealth were a secondary concern. Alex could see Wolf tensing with each misplaced word, his jaw clenched tighter as the day wore on. One CIA operative misjudged a drop and landed with a thud, scattering a few small rocks. Wolf shot him a look that could have silenced the world.

Alex, standing a few feet back, exchanged a glance with Snake. The sergeant’s expression remained neutral, but Alex could sense the same undercurrent of frustration simmering beneath.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Beacons, Alex sat by the fire once again, his mind buzzing with thoughts of Byrne and what the CIA deputy director was really doing here. Wolf joined him, sitting heavily beside him, not saying a word and his silence was welcomed.

“They’ll be gone soon enough,” Alex muttered, half to himself.

Wolf stared into the flames, his eyes reflecting the flickering light. “Not soon enough,” he growled, and for once, Alex wholeheartedly agreed.

Chapter Text

The night had fallen completely, and the camp settled into a quieter rhythm. The exercises had ended hours ago, leaving everyone exhausted. Despite the cool air, Alex Rider—Cub to the SAS—sat by the fire once again, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. The CIA team had retreated to their tents, and the SAS were quietly finishing up their routine evening tasks.

From across the flickering flames, Alex could hear the faint sounds of Wolf and Eagle talking by the vehicles, voices low and private. Wolf wasn’t one for open conversations, especially not after the day they’d had. The CIA team had grated on his nerves all day long, and Eagle, ever perceptive, had done his best to act as a buffer when things had gotten too much.

Alex smiled slightly, his mind wandering as the crackling fire worked to lull him into relaxation. But that peace was abruptly shattered by the sound of footsteps crunching on gravel.

"Rider."

Alex turned, and there he was—Joe Byrne, the sharp-eyed deputy director of the CIA, with a relaxed grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Byrne sat down heavily next to Alex, too close for comfort, but the man had always had a way of disregarding personal space.

“Cub when I’m here” He corrects.

Alex offered him a polite nod but didn’t say much. Byrne’s presence was never casual. There was always something behind it—an ulterior motive or a plan in motion.

“Good work out there today,” Byrne said casually, poking at the fire with a stick as if he were just any other operative. His tone suggested they were old friends catching up after a shared mission. But Alex wasn’t in the mood for Byrne’s attempts at familiarity, not after a long day of CIA theatrics.

“Thanks,” Alex replied, keeping his voice neutral.

Byrne leaned in a little, the smile on his face widening. “You know, I had a little chat with your friend Wolf earlier.”

Alex tensed, though he tried not to show it. Wolf had made it clear how much the presence of the CIA, especially their loud and chaotic nature, grated on him. The last thing Alex wanted was for Byrne to have pushed Wolf too far.

“Oh?” Alex said cautiously, his eyes flicking toward the far side of camp where Wolf and Eagle still lingered.

Byrne chuckled, as if about to share some inside joke. “Yeah, pulled him aside. Figured we could clear the air, you know? Have a real heart-to-heart. He’s a tough nut, that one.”

Alex stayed quiet, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Whatever Byrne thought had happened during that conversation, Alex was sure Wolf had not enjoyed it. Byrne’s idea of “clearing the air” was likely as subtle as a sledgehammer, and Wolf’s patience was already wearing thin.

“He didn’t say much, of course.” Byrne paused to shoot Alex a sideways glance, clearly expecting some sort of response. When Alex stayed silent, Byrne pushed on, his tone now edged with humor. “Tough crowd, that guy. But I think I got through to him. Or at least, I like to think so.” He laughed again, the sound ringing hollow in the quiet night. “Though, between you and me, he looked like he was about two seconds away from walking off. Can't imagine why!”

Alex’s stomach knotted slightly. It was easy to guess what had happened - Byrne had likely cornered Wolf with too much small talk or some sort of overly enthusiastic attempt at friendship, and Wolf had been forced to grit his teeth through it.

The firelight reflected off Byrne’s amused expression as he continued, “I even made a little joke, tried to break the tension. Told him that he ought to relax, enjoy the ride. You’d have thought I asked him to dance in front of the whole camp by the way he looked at me!”

Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, Wolf doesn’t do well with small talk,” he said carefully, trying to keep things neutral. He could already tell that whatever Byrne had attempted hadn’t been received well, and the last thing they needed was more tension between the two groups.

Byrne seemed completely oblivious to the strain he had caused. “You don’t say,” he chuckled, oblivious to how his forced friendliness might have felt like an assault on Wolf's carefully guarded boundaries. “Well, I’m sure he’ll warm up. These Brits just need a bit of American charm, that’s all.”

Alex gave a noncommittal hum, his eyes tracking back to Wolf and Eagle, who were now talking in hushed tones. From the way Wolf stood, arms crossed tightly over his chest and his eyes fixed on the ground, Alex could tell he was still trying to shake off whatever conversation Byrne had put him through.

It wasn’t hard to read Wolf. His discomfort in social situations wasn’t something new to Alex. The way Wolf processed the world—with an intensity that others couldn’t always see—meant that small talk and forced interactions grated on him like sandpaper on bare skin. Byrne had misread the situation completely, and Alex wasn’t sure how to diffuse the fallout.

Before Alex could respond, Eagle appeared from the shadows, walking toward them with his usual easy stride. He gave Byrne a nod before turning to Alex, his expression a mix of sympathy and understanding.

“Cub,” Eagle said, his voice casual but warm. He cast a quick glance at Byrne. “You’ve had a long day. Snake asked if you could help with some kit adjustments before we call it a night.”

Alex shot him a quick look of gratitude, recognizing the subtle lifeline. Byrne might have been joking now, but there was no telling how much longer he would continue to poke fun at Wolf’s discomfort. Byrne had a habit of trying to buddy up with people who clearly didn’t want it, and Eagle had likely seen the tension brewing from across the camp.

"Yeah, sure," Alex replied, standing up and dusting off his jeans. He glanced at Byrne, whose smile had faded slightly now that the conversation was being interrupted.

Byrne shrugged, still not quite getting the message. “All right, Rider. Don’t work too hard.”

Alex didn’t bother to respond as he walked off with Eagle, grateful for the quick save. Once they were a few paces away, Eagle lowered his voice, his expression shifting to something more serious.

“Wolf’s not happy,” Eagle said, glancing back toward the fire. “Byrne cornered him earlier, asked a bunch of questions. I had to step in before Wolf lost his cool.”

“I figured,” Alex muttered. “What was it about?”

“Nothing important,” Eagle replied, shaking his head. “Byrne just kept pressing, trying to be friendly, but you know how Wolf is. He doesn’t do well with that kind of pressure.”

Alex nodded. He knew exactly what Eagle meant. Wolf wasn’t antisocial—he just valued his space, both physical and emotional. When people crossed those boundaries without realizing it, Wolf had a hard time keeping his frustration in check. If Eagle hadn’t stepped in, things could have escalated quickly.

“He seems better now,” Alex said, glancing back toward Wolf, who was still by the vehicles, standing alone in the shadows, his arms no longer crossed but his posture still tense.

Eagle nodded. “He just needed some space, I think. Byrne doesn’t mean any harm, but he’s… not great at reading people. You and I can roll with it, but Wolf... well, it’s different for him.”

Alex appreciated the way Eagle understood Wolf’s needs without ever making a big deal out of it. In the world of the SAS, unspoken understanding went a long way. While Wolf didn’t always say it, Alex knew that having Eagle around had prevented more than one confrontation in the past.

“Let’s hope Byrne doesn’t try to bond with him again,” Alex said, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure how much more of Byrne’s ‘charm’ Wolf could take before something snapped.

Eagle chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on things.”

As they walked back toward the camp, Alex couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of unease. Byrne might not have meant any harm, but his inability to pick up on Wolf’s discomfort was a small crack in the fragile balance between the CIA and SAS teams. And cracks, Alex knew from experience, had a way of growing if left unchecked.

The fire flickered behind them, but the tension in the air remained.

Chapter Text

The morning sun crept over the Brecon Beacons, casting long shadows across the camp as the SAS and CIA teams prepared for another day of joint training. The CIA agents were already making noise—too much noise—chatting about everything from tactical gear to their favourite restaurants back in D.C., completely oblivious to the way their boisterousness grated on the more reserved SAS. To Alex Rider, known as Cub by the SAS, it was like watching tourists who’d wandered into the wrong place.

Alex stood at the edge of the training field, adjusting the strap of his pack, and watched with mild amusement as the day’s chaos began to unfold. Today’s schedule involved recon exercises and team-building drills, but judging by the expressions of the SAS men, the real mission had shifted: keeping Joe Byrne, Deputy Director of the CIA, away from Wolf.

Byrne had spent the past few days trying far too hard to bond with Wolf, using a mix of loud jokes and relentless small talk. What he hadn’t realized was that Wolf hated small talk, especially when it came in the form of forced, well-meaning banter from strangers. Alex, who knew Wolf well enough by now to pick up on the signs, had been quietly helping the rest of K-Unit run interference. And today, they were all on high alert.

At the far side of the camp, Wolf was already setting up near the vehicles, a tactical move to keep some distance between himself and the CIA contingent. He was methodical as always, arranging his gear in a precise order, his body language screaming “Do not approach.” But Byrne, with his unyielding enthusiasm, had spotted Wolf across the camp, grinning as he started toward him.

Alex muttered under his breath, “Here we go.”

Eagle, standing beside Alex, noticed Byrne’s approach. “We better cut him off.”

Before Byrne could close the gap, Eagle stepped in, his movements casual but purposeful. “Byrne! Hey!” Eagle called out, raising a hand. “You need help with your gear? I’ve been meaning to ask about those tactical packs you guys brought along.”

Byrne paused mid-step, his attention momentarily diverted. “Oh yeah! These are top of the line. You’re going to love them.” He turned toward Eagle, completely missing the fact that Wolf had used the distraction to quietly slip behind the vehicles, putting more space between himself and Byrne.

Alex and Eagle exchanged a quick glance. The operation had officially begun.

As Byrne enthusiastically explained the various features of his gear to Eagle, Snake sidled up to Alex, a smirk tugging at his lips. “First shift goes to Eagle, huh?”

Alex nodded, watching Eagle expertly keep Byrne busy. “As long as Byrne doesn’t catch on, we should be able to keep Wolf sane.”

“Let’s hope,” Snake said. “We’ve still got a full day of this.”

The morning exercises started, and Byrne, blissfully unaware of the delicate game being played around him, moved from person to person, clearly trying to make conversation with the SAS men. Every time he veered toward Wolf, though, someone from K-Unit would swoop in with a perfectly timed distraction.

During a group run through the forest, Byrne jogged up to Wolf, his voice too loud for the early morning. “Wolf! Hey, I was wondering—”

Snake appeared out of nowhere, cutting him off smoothly. “Byrne, mind taking point? You’ve got more experience with this kind of terrain in hostile zones, right?”

Byrne blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. “Oh, yeah, sure! Let’s see what we’ve got ahead.”

Snake led him forward, effectively blocking his path to Wolf, who continued the run in relative peace, his expression as stoic as ever. Alex could sense, though, the slight tension in Wolf’s movements—the subtle signs of discomfort that only those close to him would notice. Wolf wasn’t one to openly show when he was overwhelmed, but the constant barrage of attention from Byrne was starting to grate.

Later, during a brief break in the drills, Byrne once again made a beeline for Wolf. This time, he barely got a word out before Ben Daniels—Fox—intercepted him with a grin and a canteen.

“Hey, Byrne! You’ve gotta try some proper British tea,” Fox said, holding up a thermos.

Byrne hesitated, momentarily distracted. “Tea? I mean, sure.”

Fox nodded, leading him toward a makeshift tea station. “Trust me, mate. You won’t find tea like this back home.”

Across the camp, Alex watched the exchange with a quiet laugh. It was like a covert mission, except instead of enemy targets, the objective was to protect Wolf from Joe Byrne’s over-enthusiastic attempts at bonding.

As the day wore on, the SAS continued their training, seamlessly integrating their new mission—keeping Byrne away from Wolf—into the drills. During a simulated hostage rescue, Eagle “accidentally” positioned Byrne at the opposite end of the field from Wolf, while Snake kept him busy with tactical suggestions. It was a well-coordinated effort, and Alex had to give the team credit for their creativity.

By mid-afternoon, Byrne seemed to be slowing down, though his enthusiasm hadn’t dimmed. He wandered over to where Alex was sitting, taking a break between drills.

“Rider,” Byrne said, clapping Alex on the back with more energy than necessary. “Quite the day, huh? These Brits are tough.”

Alex managed a polite smile. “It’s Cub, actually. But yeah, they’re a solid team.”

Byrne waved him off, grinning. “Right, right, Cub. Anyway, I’ve been trying to get a read on your man Wolf. Not the friendliest guy, huh?”

Alex nearly choked on his water but managed to keep a straight face. “Wolf’s... focused. It’s nothing personal.”

“Focused,” Byrne repeated, nodding thoughtfully. “I’ve been trying all week to break through that tough exterior. Offered to swap stories, share a laugh, but the guy barely says a word. Think he’s just shy?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly. Wolf’s just... Wolf.” That was a lie. Wolf had perfectly good reasons for behaving the way he does, they just aren’t Byrne’s business.

“Yeah, well, I’ll get him to open up eventually. No one can resist the Byrne charm forever!” Byrne laughed, completely oblivious to the reality of the situation.

Alex smiled tightly, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Good luck with that.”

As Byrne finally wandered off toward the tents, Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He shot a glance toward Wolf, who was standing alone near the edge of the camp, clearly grateful for the reprieve. The entire day had been an elaborate dance of distractions and diversions, and so far, it had worked. But Alex knew Byrne wouldn’t give up so easily.

Eagle sauntered over, wiping sweat from his brow. “Think we’re in the clear for the rest of the day?”

Alex glanced at Byrne, who was chatting animatedly with another CIA agent, completely oblivious to the covert operation that had been playing out around him. “I think we’re good. At least until tomorrow.”

Eagle chuckled. “Who would’ve thought we’d end up running interference on our own camp? It’s like a bloody game of cat and mouse.”

Alex grinned. “Yeah, but we’re winning.”

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the camp as the SAS and CIA teams wound down for the evening. The CIA agents were still talking, though with less energy than earlier in the day. Byrne, still the loudest of them all, was recounting one of his mission stories, oblivious to the fact that none of the SAS seemed particularly interested.

As Alex sat back, watching the camp settle into its usual quiet, he noticed Wolf standing a little farther away, looking out over the mountains. He seemed more relaxed now, his hands no longer clenching at his sides. For someone like Wolf, who found social interaction exhausting at the best of times, Byrne’s relentless attempts at bonding had likely been overwhelming. But thanks to the team’s efforts, he’d made it through the day.

Alex stood and walked over to Wolf, careful not to break the quiet.

“Hey,” Alex said, keeping his voice low. “You doing okay?”

Wolf glanced at him, his expression unreadable but less tense than earlier. “I’m fine.”

Alex nodded, not pressing him further. Wolf didn’t like to talk about how he felt—especially when it came to social stuff—but Alex had learned to read between the lines. Wolf was fine, at least for now, and that was all that mattered.

“Just a little longer,” Alex said, half-joking. “Byrne’s heading out soon.”

Wolf’s lips twitched into the faintest semblance of a smile. “Good.”

As they stood there, watching the last of the sun dip below the horizon, Alex felt a strange sense of camaraderie. They hadn’t just survived the day—they’d survived Byrne. And, as far as victories went, that one was worth celebrating.

Chapter Text

Morning broke cold and clear over the Brecon Beacons, the kind of crisp air that jolted you awake the moment you stepped outside. The previous day’s training had been taxing but manageable—if you didn’t count the subtle mini mission the SAS had been on to keep Joe Byrne away from Wolf. After hours of discreetly distracting the overly enthusiastic CIA deputy director, the team had managed to buy Wolf enough breathing space to survive without an outburst. But today, everyone knew they’d be on high alert.

Alex Rider stood by the campfire, his gaze flicking between Wolf, who was nursing a cup of black tea at the far side of the camp, and Byrne, who was already up and pacing with a fresh wave of energy. Byrne looked like a man on a mission. Specifically, on the mission—trying to befriend the most anti-social member of the SAS, Wolf.

"He's moving," Eagle muttered beside Alex, his voice barely above a whisper as he casually adjusted his gear.

Alex glanced up, and sure enough, Byrne was making his way toward Wolf with that overly eager look in his eyes. Eagle had been running interference yesterday with perfectly timed questions and equipment discussions, but today, Byrne seemed more determined than ever.

Alex’s heart rate quickened. They needed a new strategy, something bigger. Byrne wasn’t going to be put off by tactical backpack discussions today. And from the rigid set of Wolf’s shoulders, Alex could tell that Wolf was nearing his breaking point. If Byrne managed to corner him again, things were going to go sideways fast.

“I’ve got an idea,” Alex muttered under his breath, his mind racing. He scanned the nearby field that stretched out beyond the camp. The rolling hills were dotted with sheep, lazily grazing under the morning sun. A mischievous glint sparked in Alex’s eyes. "How much do you think Byrne likes farm animals?"

Eagle raised an eyebrow. “What are you thinking?”

Alex smirked. “I'm thinking we give Byrne a bit of... agricultural experience.”

Before Eagle could respond, Snake sidled up to them, his expression already weary. “Byrne’s closing in fast. Whatever we’re doing, we better do it now.”

Alex looked over at Wolf, who was still standing off to the side, his back to the approaching threat. If they didn’t act soon, Wolf was going to have no choice but to face Byrne head-on. There was only one option left.

“Right,” Alex said decisively. “Fox, get ready. We’re about to release some chaos.”

Fox, who had been lounging nearby, perked up. “Chaos, you say? I’m in.”

Alex explained the plan quickly, earning a mix of dubious looks and suppressed grins from the team. They weren’t exactly used to this level of absurdity in their operations, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

With Byrne now dangerously close to Wolf, Alex, Eagle, and Fox hurried toward the edge of the camp where the fence separated the grazing field from their training area. The sheep stood in clusters, blissfully unaware of the chaos they were about to be swept into.

“Here goes nothing,” Alex whispered, climbing the fence. He dropped down on the other side, Eagle and Fox following close behind. Moving quickly, they crept toward the sheep, who eyed them with mild disinterest.

“Think this’ll work?” Fox asked under his breath, his voice betraying more amusement than concern.

“It has to,” Alex replied, trying to sound confident. “Sheep are unpredictable, right? Byrne won’t know what hit him.”

Eagle crouched beside them, giving a subtle nod. “On your signal.”

Alex took a deep breath and nodded. “Now.”

Together, the three of them moved, rushing the small herd and flapping their arms wildly. The sheep, startled by the sudden intrusion, immediately panicked and began to scatter. Hooves thudded against the ground as the animals bolted in all directions, bleating loudly as they charged toward the camp.

Back at camp, Byrne was mid-sentence, gesturing animatedly toward Wolf, who had just spotted the incoming stampede. Wolf’s eyes widened slightly in disbelief, but the rest of his face remained impressively neutral.

The first sheep barreled past Byrne, nearly clipping him in the legs. “What the—?” Byrne stumbled backward, looking around in confusion as more sheep flooded into the camp. They weaved between tents, knocking over equipment and sending a flurry of bleating chaos through the previously peaceful camp.

“Is this… normal around here?” Byrne shouted, trying to dodge a particularly determined sheep that seemed intent on running directly at him.

Wolf, quickly moved aside, retreating to a safe distance while watching the spectacle unfold with a rare expression of quiet amusement. His eyes flicked toward Alex for a brief moment, and Alex could have sworn there was the faintest hint of gratitude in that look.

The camp was now a swirling mass of bleating sheep, panicked agents, and overturned gear. Byrne was in the middle of it all, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “Somebody do something! These things are everywhere!”

Alex, barely containing his laughter, ducked behind a tent to avoid being seen. Eagle, crouching beside him, was biting his lip to stop from bursting into laughter.

“We need backup!” Fox called out, playing along as he jogged through the chaos, swerving to avoid the sheep. “Man down! Tactical sheep incoming!”

Byrne, clearly flustered, waved his arms in the air. “Just… get them out of here! Does anyone know how to deal with sheep?”

“Byrne, you’re up!” Alex called out from his hiding spot, his voice cracking with suppressed laughter. “Show us that famous CIA improvisation!”

To his credit, Byrne didn’t back down. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, wading into the flock as though he were facing down a pack of enemy combatants. “All right, you woolly freaks, get out of here!”

His attempts to herd the sheep, however, were far from successful. The sheep, having zero respect for authority, continued to charge through the camp in random directions, dodging Byrne’s every move. One of them even trotted up behind him and headbutted him lightly in the back of the knees, sending him stumbling forward.

“Unbelievable,” Byrne muttered, his arms flailing as he tried to maintain his balance. “How do you Brits deal with this?”

Meanwhile, the SAS team—except for Wolf, who had wisely stayed out of the fray—pretended to help with the sheep, but most of their “efforts” consisted of half-hearted shooing and poorly disguised laughter. Eagle, Snake, and Fox were barely keeping it together, and even Wolf, who was normally the most serious of the group, had a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Wolf, standing by the vehicles and watching from a safe distance, crossed his arms and let out a long-suffering sigh. Alex caught his eye, offering a subtle thumbs-up.

Byrne, now thoroughly entangled in sheep-related chaos, finally managed to corral a few of the stragglers toward the edge of the camp, panting as he did so. “I’ve dealt with worse,” he muttered under his breath, though it wasn’t clear whether he was trying to convince himself or the others. “Wolves in Afghanistan, insurgents in the Middle East… but sheep? Sheep are another level.”

Alex couldn’t help but chuckle as Byrne, red-faced and out of breath, wiped his brow. “You did good, sir. We’ll leave the sheep wrangling to you next time.”

Byrne shot him a look, clearly too tired to respond with anything more than a grunt.

The sheep, having lost their momentum, gradually wandered back to the field from whence they came, leaving behind a trail of chaos and confusion. The camp, though disheveled, had survived the sheep onslaught relatively intact.

As the dust settled and the last sheep disappeared over the hill, the SAS team quietly regrouped, exchanging silent nods of victory. Wolf, ever composed, gave Alex a curt nod. No words were necessary. The operation had been a success, and Byrne was none the wiser.

Alex, still grinning, glanced over at Eagle and Fox. “Mission accomplished.”

Fox smirked. “Well, that was a bit more extreme than yesterday, but I think we’ve bought Wolf another day of peace.”

Eagle clapped Alex on the back. “Let’s hope Byrne doesn’t start asking questions about local wildlife.”

The sun was still shining brightly over the Brecon Beacons as the team returned to their gear, ready for whatever madness the next day might bring. But for now, they had won the battle—one sheep at a time.

Chapter Text

The last day of Joe Byrne's stay with the SAS dawned bright and cold, as if the Brecon Beacons themselves were trying to give the CIA deputy director a fond send-off. It was the final day of joint training, and while Byrne had been nothing short of energetic all week, the SAS were now silently praying for the day to end without a major incident. The CIA agents were already packing up their gear, ready to head back to American soil, and K-Unit felt a collective sense of relief wash over them.

Alex Rider was sitting outside the barracks, tying up his boots when Eagle strolled over.

“Today’s the day, Cub. Byrne’s last day,” Eagle said, dropping onto the bench next to him with a sigh of exaggerated relief.

Alex grinned but didn’t look up. “Let’s just hope it’s a quiet one. We’ve barely kept Wolf from exploding all week.”

Eagle snorted. “Yeah, if Byrne tries his luck one more time with those jokes…”

He trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. Everyone in K-Unit knew that Joe Byrne’s idea of bonding was a relentless assault of jokes, observations, and stories about Wolf—all meant in good fun, but landing like nails on a chalkboard for the stoic, methodical soldier. Wolf’s patience had been remarkable so far, but Alex could sense that the pressure was mounting. And now, on Byrne’s last day, it felt like the stakes were higher than ever. The man had been circling Wolf like a playful dog around a much larger, much quieter one, completely oblivious to the fact that Wolf had no interest in his games.

Inside the barracks, the air was warmer but tense. Wolf sat on the far side, hunched over a report, his brow furrowed in concentration. The rest of the team was out in the camp, leaving him alone for a moment—alone, that is, until Byrne entered.

Joe Byrne walked in, eyes bright, a cup of coffee in hand. He had the air of someone who considered this his victory lap, having survived a week of rough terrain and SAS intensity. The Americans, by and large, had managed to make it through without too much collateral damage, but the general air of informality they carried around like a cloud had clashed with the disciplined, more reserved nature of the British soldiers. Byrne didn’t notice—or maybe he didn’t care.

“Morning, Wolf!” Byrne said, his voice loud and cheerful, echoing in the confined space.

Wolf didn’t look up from his report. “Morning.”

Byrne, of course, took the lack of enthusiasm as an invitation to keep talking. He crossed the room, settling himself on the cot opposite Wolf, stretching his legs out like they were old friends about to have a deep conversation. Wolf’s posture stiffened ever so slightly, but he kept his focus on the papers in front of him.

“Big day, huh?” Byrne continued. “Last day with you blokes. Gotta say, you guys do things a little differently than we do in the States. A bit more... rigid, maybe?”

Wolf didn’t respond, and the silence hung in the air. Byrne didn’t seem to notice. He took a sip of his coffee and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know, Wolf, I’ve been thinking. You and me—we could learn a thing or two from each other. I mean, I’ve got the charm, right? And you’ve got that... stone-faced thing going on. It’s a balance!”

Wolf’s eyes remained fixed on his report, but Alex, standing just outside the barracks door, could sense the tension building. The last few days had been like this—Byrne cracking jokes or trying to pull Wolf into conversation, while Wolf expertly dodged the barbs with short, polite responses. But as Byrne’s departure loomed closer, the deputy director seemed determined to make some final connection.

“Speaking of balance,” Byrne went on, now laughing at his own thoughts, “did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in the desert on a mission? Thought I was going to die out there—no water, no backup. But you know what kept me going?”

Wolf still didn’t look up, but Alex could tell he was listening despite himself.

“Humor!” Byrne said, slapping his knee like it was the punchline to the world’s greatest joke. “I cracked jokes to myself the entire time. Kept my spirits up, even when I was running on fumes.”

Alex had to give Wolf credit—his self-control was impressive. The man didn’t even flinch. But Byrne was undeterred, clearly interpreting Wolf’s silence as an invitation to continue.

“Yeah, you know, I always thought a guy like you—bit too serious for your own good—could use a little humor. Loosen up, man! Life’s too short to be that intense all the time.”

Wolf finally glanced up from his report, but his face was unreadable. He didn’t say a word, just raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. Byrne took this as encouragement.

“And the rest of K-Unit—great bunch of guys, don’t get me wrong—but they’ve been pretty quiet too. Maybe it’s a British thing, huh? Too much stiff upper lip. You know what you need? A guy like me around. Lighten things up.”

Alex, who had quietly stepped inside, exchanged a glance with Eagle, who had followed him in. They both recognized the storm that was brewing. Wolf’s patience was impressive, yes, but it was finite.

“I’m telling you,” Byrne said, leaning back like he was getting comfortable, “you and me, Wolf—we could be a real team. The strong silent type and the guy with all the jokes. Like... I don’t know, a buddy cop movie or something.”

At this point, Eagle, standing just behind Byrne, caught Wolf’s eye. With a barely noticeable shift of his head, Eagle signaled Wolf to hold steady. Wolf’s expression didn’t change, but Alex saw the subtle tension leave his shoulders. Eagle had always been good at running interference, and it seemed like Wolf was placing his trust in him to handle this.

“So, what do you think, Wolf?” Byrne asked, oblivious to the silent communication. “Maybe next time we meet, we swap stories? You know, break that ice once and for all?”

The door to the barracks creaked open, and Snake walked in, glancing between Byrne and Wolf with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Byrne waved a hand, grinning like they were all in on the joke. “Just telling Wolf here that he could use a little more humor in his life. You know, a guy like me might be able to bring out his fun side.”

Snake looked at Wolf, who was staring down at his papers again, and then at Alex. The unspoken question hung in the air: Is he for real?

“I think Wolf’s plenty fun,” Snake said evenly, his face completely deadpan. He shot a quick look at Alex, who was trying hard to keep from laughing.

Eagle chimed in, clearly deciding that now was the time to step in. “Byrne, you know what you need? A real British send-off. None of this half-hearted stuff. How about we do one last run together, for old times’ sake?”

Byrne’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! That’s the spirit! Maybe I can finally crack Wolf’s shell on the way, huh?”

Eagle gave a tight smile. “Maybe. But first, let’s get you suited up. Can’t have you leaving without one last taste of the good old British countryside.”

Wolf, meanwhile, kept his head down, clearly grateful for the escape. Alex shot him a quick smile as the team gathered their gear. The day was turning into a game of survival—survival of their sanity, that is.

---

The training run began as any other, with the CIA agents and the SAS jogging in formation through the rough terrain. The Americans were, unsurprisingly, loud. Byrne led the charge, continuing his barrage of one-liners and friendly banter, seemingly unaware that the British soldiers were keeping a much more measured pace—and staying well clear of Wolf.

Eagle, who had taken the lead, was running alongside Byrne, doing his best to steer the conversation away from Wolf. Every time Byrne tried to circle back to him, Eagle subtly redirected with a comment about the terrain or some fabricated story from his time in the SAS.

It was working, for the most part. Byrne hadn’t quite caught on that he was being managed.

At one point, though, Byrne fell back, jogging beside Alex with that same grin plastered on his face. “So, Alex. Oh, I mean Cub, you’ve spent a lot of time with these guys. Wolf ever tell you about his hobbies? Or is he all business, all the time?”

Alex smirked. “Mostly business.”

Byrne laughed like Alex had just told a great joke. “I figured as much. Man’s like a robot. But hey, maybe he’s got a secret talent. I bet he paints. Or knits. Yeah, that’s it—Wolf, the knitter.”

Alex nearly tripped on a rock trying to stifle his laughter. The image of Wolf knitting in the barracks, surrounded by balls of yarn, was too absurd not to laugh at.

“I doubt that” Alex managed, trying to keep his face straight.

“Oh, come on,” Byrne said, nudging him. “Everyone’s got a softer side. Even Wolf. I’m going to figure it out one day.”

Behind them, Alex could hear Eagle and Snake exchanging quiet laughs. Wolf, who had kept his distance during the run, seemed blissfully unaware—or maybe he was just pretending not to hear.

By the time they returned to camp, Byrne was still in good spirits, joking with the CIA agents as they packed up their gear. Alex and the rest of K-Unit gathered in a loose circle, watching as the Americans prepared to leave.

“Well, this has been fun,” Byrne said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “And hey, next time we meet, Wolf, I’ll be ready with more jokes.”

Wolf, standing at the edge of the group, gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. It was the most diplomatic response anyone could have expected.

As the CIA convoy finally pulled away, Eagle turned to Wolf with a grin. “Think he’ll ever get the hint?”

Wolf’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile. “Doubt it.”

Alex laughed, shaking his head. “Well, at least he’s gone now.”

“Until next time,” Snake added dryly.

Wolf, finally free of Byrne’s attention, gave Alex a rare look of gratitude. For a week of carefully managed chaos, of dodging jokes and avoiding awkward conversations, the team had done what they did best—kept their own together.

And, as the last of the American vehicles disappeared into the distance, K-Unit silently agreed: Byrne’s jokes might have survived the week, but Wolf had survived Byrne. And that, in itself, was the real victory.

Chapter Text

The CIA convoy had long since disappeared into the winding roads of the Brecon Beacons, the hum of their engines fading into the crisp afternoon air. The SAS barracks, once buzzing with the awkward energy of collaboration between two vastly different military cultures, had finally returned to its normal, calm rhythm. It felt as though the very mountains had exhaled in relief after the departure of Joe Byrne and his boisterous crew. For the first time in days, peace had returned to K-Unit’s camp.

Alex Rider—Cub—sat on the edge of his bunk, idly fiddling with a spare magazine. Eagle was across the room, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. Snake, ever methodical, was sharpening a knife while Fox was rummaging through a pile of gear. Wolf was at the far end of the barracks, eyes fixed on a field manual, his fingers tracing the edges of the pages in a slow, rhythmic manner that Alex had noticed often calmed him down.

It had been a week of barely controlled chaos, with Joe Byrne’s relentless humor and social invasions, particularly directed at Wolf, driving them all to their limits. And yet, through it all, they’d kept Wolf protected—not just physically but emotionally, too. Alex had made sure of it. They all had.

“I think we actually survived,” Eagle said with a chuckle, breaking the silence.

Fox grunted, still half-buried in gear. “Barely. If I hear one more joke about Wolf knitting or painting, I’m going to lose it.”

Alex grinned. “To be fair, the image of Wolf knitting is pretty funny.”

Eagle snorted, glancing over at Wolf, who remained silent, eyes still on the manual. It was a miracle that Wolf had maintained his composure for as long as he had. Byrne had been relentless, joking about Wolf’s “seriousness,” trying to pull him into conversation, never understanding that Wolf’s silence wasn’t an invitation for more jokes—it was a boundary.

The creak of the barracks door interrupted the moment as Snake strode in, an envelope in hand, his expression one of mild amusement.

“What’s that?” Alex asked, leaning forward.

Snake waved the envelope like a trophy. “This just came in from the CIA. It’s addressed to all of us.”

Fox raised an eyebrow. “What, they couldn’t just say goodbye in person?”

Snake tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper, unfolding it with deliberate slowness. His eyes scanned the text, and a grin started to spread across his face.

“Oh, this is good,” Snake said, chuckling as he passed the note to Eagle.

Eagle skimmed the letter, letting out a bark of laughter before handing it off to Alex. “It’s from Byrne. You’re going to love this.”

Alex took the note, curiosity piqued. It was neatly typed, but the content—well, it was classic Byrne.

---

To the Members of K-Unit,

It’s been an absolute pleasure training with you fine lads. I’ll admit, the British way of doing things is a bit more intense than what I’m used to, but I think I’ve learned a lot—especially about teamwork, camaraderie, and how to handle myself in a tent full of sheep. (Still can’t believe that happened, by the way. Do you guys have sheep everywhere?)

But what I’ll really take away from this experience is the invaluable time I got to spend with Wolf. I’ve got to say, I think I made a breakthrough with him. At first, he was pretty quiet, but by the end of the week, I could tell we were getting somewhere. You know, some people just need a little push, and I’m pretty sure Wolf and I were starting to vibe.

He’s a tough nut to crack, sure, but I’ve got the patience for it. By next time, I’m convinced he’ll be the life of the party, thanks to a little American charm.

I’ll be back for round two soon—maybe with a few more jokes up my sleeve. Take care, fellas!

—Joe Byrne

---

Alex read the note twice, then handed it over to Fox with an incredulous laugh. “He really thinks they were ‘vibing’? Seriously?”

Fox shook his head in disbelief as he read the note, grinning the entire time. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so utterly fail to get the point.”

Snake, who had already read the letter, was now leaning back against the wall, chuckling. “It’s like the guy was on a completely different wavelength the entire week.”

“That’s because he was,” Eagle said, laughing as he gestured toward Wolf, who was still at the far end of the room, focused intently on his manual. “Wolf wasn’t exactly looking to ‘vibe.’”

Alex glanced over at Wolf, noting the slight tension in his posture—barely noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him well, but after spending so much time together, Alex had learned to spot the signs. Wolf was fine—he’d been managing all week—but Byrne’s relentless attention had been an ordeal. Wolf didn’t appreciate loud, invasive conversations, especially when they were aimed at him. It was something about sensory overload and boundaries, things Wolf rarely talked about, but which Alex had picked up on over time.

Still, Wolf hadn’t snapped, hadn’t lashed out. He’d handled Byrne’s jokes and attempts at forced camaraderie with a stoicism that Alex could only admire. But now that it was all over, Alex could see the subtle signs of exhaustion in Wolf’s frame, the way his hand ran over the edge of the manual in a steady, repetitive motion. A grounding action.

Eagle must have noticed it too, because he turned to Alex with a raised eyebrow. “We should check on him.”

Alex nodded, getting up from his bunk and crossing the room toward Wolf. He approached quietly, not wanting to break Wolf’s focus too abruptly. When he was close enough, he crouched down slightly, keeping his voice low.

“Wolf, you okay?”

Wolf didn’t look up from his manual right away. His fingers continued their slow, methodical tracing along the page. After a moment, he responded in his typical, no-nonsense tone. “I’m fine.”

Alex didn’t press him. He knew Wolf didn’t always like to talk about how he was feeling, especially when it came to social stress. But Alex had learned over time that silence didn’t always mean everything was okay.

“Byrne really didn’t get it, did he?” Alex said, offering a small smile.

This time, Wolf looked up. His expression was unreadable, but Alex caught a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. “No. He didn’t.”

For Wolf, that was practically a full conversation. Alex smiled and stood back up, satisfied that Wolf was, in his own way, handling things. It wasn’t always easy, being part of such a loud and often chaotic group, especially when people like Byrne didn’t understand the importance of giving someone like Wolf space. But K-Unit had his back. They always had.

When Alex returned to the rest of the team, Eagle shot him a questioning look. Alex gave a small nod. “He’s fine.”

“Good,” Eagle said, picking up the note again. “Because Byrne’s sense of humour might’ve been the final test for him.”

Fox, still grinning, folded the note and slid it into his pocket. “I think we need to frame this. A reminder of the week we somehow survived.”

“I’ll make sure it’s put up in the briefing room,” Snake said dryly. “That way, we can all remember the time Wolf became Byrne’s new best friend.”

Alex laughed along with them, the tension from the week finally fading away now that Byrne and his relentless enthusiasm were gone. For a moment, the room filled with the easy, comfortable laughter that only comes after surviving something ridiculous together. And for once, even Wolf allowed himself the faintest trace of a smile as he turned the page of his manual, content to be surrounded by his team—the people who understood him without needing to crack jokes or force conversation.