Chapter Text
Alex feels numb after the final click of the cell door, signifying his return to this cage. The panic has subsided, and all that is left in its wake is pure exhaustion. His head pounds in double-time, and he fights the nausea in his chest.
He lies where Yassen had deposited his body, upon the return to the prison.
It could have been hours, or maybe only minutes, when the door cracks open.
Idly, he waits to be scolded for Yassen. For his stupid, doomed, escape attempt that he must have known would never succeed. For putting both their lives in danger, for the millionth time.
He can’t bear to await this onslaught head on, so he is still curled with his back to the door when he hears a voice that is definitely not tinged with a Russian accent. And not with clipped, controlled fury that Yassen would have spoken with.
“Stand the fuck up, whore,” the man spits down towards him. Literally, Alex realizes, as he registers a warm liquid land on his bicep and slides towards his elbow.
Alex’s body cringes on instinct at the profanity. Turning around, he scrambles back away from the intruder, shuffling with uncoordinated movements. His breath catches in his throat when his back collides against the far wall with an almost jarring impact.
“Don’t look so fucking innocent. You knew exactly what you were doing,” the man accuses. With dumb shock, Alex registers that it’s the guard he had distracted to begin his escape.
He has the same crazed look in his eyes that Alex has seen dozens of times before, but he is also visibly hurt with bruises starting at his collarbone and climbing up his neck. Apparently his failure to stop Alex’s escape attempt had not gone unpunished.
He takes a step towards Alex. “Stop.” And then another. “Just leave me alone. You don’t need to do this.”
“What if I just reallllllly want to, though?” He drawls, reaching down to snatch up Alex’s wrist. Once he has a firm grip, he pulls harshly. Alex’s body has no choice but to follow, landing awkwardly sprawled on his side.
On instinct, Alex tries to curl into himself. The guard is having none of that, though, and sits on top of Alex to keep him still. Alex wonders if he opened his mouth to shout for Yassen if it would do him any good.
“You’re gonna get what’s coming to you, slut. Show you what happens when you’re a tease.”
He’s not being subtle, yet when he hears a zipper being unzipped a new wave of panic shocks Alex into action. He surges up, trying to buck off the weight like he had with Yassen just a little while ago, but his efforts are futile. It’s enough to piss off the guy, though, since he slams Alex’s arm down with his whole weight, and Alex’s stomach lurches when he hears an audible crack.
A sob tears through his throat as he feels the bright burst of pain shoot down his arm. He squeezes his eyes shut against the pain, and is spared the sight of the guard stroking himself to full hardness. He stares down at Alex hungrily, clearing getting off on his weak struggles.
Alex can’t necessarily explain what happens next. One minute, he is pinned, helpless, and certain his is about to be raped brutally in retaliation for his escape attempt. With the sharp agony thrumming in his left arm, he is paralyzed.
But when the guard releases his arm to reach down towards Alex’s own pants, something in him snaps. His right hand, his good hand, is shooting out on instinct.
His hands fly towards the face of his attacker on his own accord. All Alex wants to do is to get the guy off of him, and be able to fucking breath.
But with deadly precision, his fingers pry into the guard’s soft eye with an audible squelch.
It’s disgusting, crude, and incredibly effective. As Alex is stunned into his own subordination, the body on top of him is writhing with pain as the man howls. It barely even sounds human.
The shouting certainly is enough of a commotion to alert the whole prison of their fight. Alex knows he needs to get on his feet, start moving, and take advantage of the moment of distraction. Instead, he is paralyzed.
Alex feels frozen, unable to even inhale or exhale. The air is stagnant in his lungs as he listens to the screeching from across the room.
Lightheaded and hyperventilating, Alex is oblivious to his surroundings until a sharp crack of a bullet blasts through the room. Alex jolts, and realizes Yassen has shot the guard in the head, putting the man out of his misery and eliminating his threat.
When Alex looks, and sees a red hole in the center of one-eyed face, he makes the mistake of glancing down at his bloodied hand. With a horrified sound in his throat, he leans to the side and throws up.
By the time the heaving has stopped, some of his shocked numbness has passed. He registers how Yassen is rubbing soothing circles into his back, speaking lowly to him.
“There you go. You’re okay little one, but we must leave. You need to take deep breaths.”
In any other circumstance, Alex would be mortified to spoken to like a child. In this case, he just nods slowly, trying to force his heart to stop thumping harshly in his chest, and ignore the white hot pain in his wrist.
Slowly, the urgency of Yassen’s words register in Alex’s brain. Surely other guards will be on their way soon. As it is, they have been sitting here too long, and Alex suspects Yassen has already incapacitated some on his way.
“Let’s go,” he croaks pitifully. The bile had made his throat raw and scratchy.
Yassen nods, and helps him up with a hand under his shoulder. Once he’s standing he makes no move to pull away, and neither does Alex.
As they begin to step forward, over the body of the dead guard, Alex stops so abruptly that he would have fallen without Yassen’s reassuring grip. “Wait. I’m not going without Hector.”
Yassen just stares at him, a crease in his eyebrows. He looks tired like that. “Alex-”
“No. I swear to god, if you don’t help him get him out of here, I’m not going with you.” Which Alex knows isn’t really an option. Because if either of them were to stay, they would be killed on sight, and Alex isn’t willing to sacrifice both of their lives. Still, he hopes Yassen will listen to him anyway.
“Alex, he’s safe enough here. Once you are freed, you can tell your M16-”
Just hearing their name makes Alex’s blood boil. Who knows if they would be any help, if they would be able to take down this drug ring and the prison. How long would it take? How much longer would Hector survive?
“No,” Alex cuts in. “I’m not fucking going without Hector.” After a pause, “Please, just help him too.”
Yassen looks resigned, angry, and a little in awe all at once, before he schools his features again. By the way his lip is set, Alex knows he has made his decision.
They make their way through the corridors of the prison carefully, with Yassen frequently checking a tablet with a connection to their security cameras. They are able to dodge most guards, but the ones they don’t are shot point blank each time. Horrified, Alex closes his eyes each time.
It’s not hard to get to Hector’s cell. But once they are there, the other prisoners in the neighboring cells begin to shout as they see Alex and Yassen walking freely.
Ignoring them, Yassen swiftly unlocks the door, pulling a stunned Hector to his feet, before heading off again. When Hector sees Alex, he relaxes a little, nodding in acknowledgment.
“We will have to hurry,” Yassen warns. “Alex, can you run?”
Although his body is exhausted, his arm fractured or worse, still his mind feels sharp and he is energized by the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. With his nod, Yassen is shooting off. With his gun held out in front of him, they start to sprint out of the building. Alex and Hector are smaller and slower, but manage to hold their own nonetheless.
By the time they reach a black SUV, parked partially obscured by some overgrown bushes, Alex is drenched in sweat and panting. Hector doesn’t seem to be faring much better, but he assures Alex that he feels fine.
Buckling himself into the passenger seat, Alex marvels at how he could have gone from almost certain death to sitting next to an assassin in a getaway car. His post-op report for M16 was going to be a nightmare. At this thought, he laughs out loud a little.
Yassen shoots him a concerned glance that makes Alex giggle a little harder.
“It’s just. What the fuck am I gonna tell Blunt happaned here?” He says in way of explanation.
Yassen snorts quietly, a noise that Alex hadn’t thought the poised man capable of making. “You could give Alan Blunt your resignation letter instead.”
“And miss out on being a damsel in distress for cute assassins? Pass.”
Yassen actually laughs. It’s a wonderful noise that Alex wants to hear again and again.
“Come now, little Alex. Perhaps we will see each other soon, and we won’t be dodging bullets in the Peruvian jungle.”
And while it’s not a happily ever after, it is a start. And Alex is content with that, driving far away from the nightmare of the past few days with Yassen and Hector by his side.