Honestly, Wolf was shocked the kid was still alive.

The body he currently had cradled in his arms did not look like it should be alive. It didn't even look like it should still be in one piece. Dried blood stained the left side of the boy's face all the way down to his chin, and more pooled in the hollow of his throat from a slice under his jaw. Blood and other fluids gunked up the side of his head, matting his hair. Three ragged slashes were caked with matted dirt and more blood on his chest, and there were numerous bruises and scrapes. Too many wounds for Snake to tally in the brief time he'd looked him over before nodding to Wolf and saying, "Grab him." Too many wounds for Wolf to not feel murderous.

Despite the harsh pangs of gunfire and the rumbles of a few grenades, Alex had not woken even once. He hadn't come to when Wolf had called his name, and he didn't open his eyes as they made their way out of the compound and into the hot, sandy desert.

"Over there!" Fox said, pointing in the direction of the waiting helicopter.

An explosion sent a shock wave at their backs as the compound collapsed in on itself. Perhaps it was the way Wolf stumbled, or the sudden wind outside, but something brought Alex around. He made a sound that was one part pained moan and eleven thousand parts fearful whimper, his eyelids flickering as he struggled weakly.

"Shh, shh, it's alright, Cub. It's alright," Wolf soothed, his voice calm and reassuring despite his underlying anger. It didn't matter that they were all dead by now. Those sons of bitches had touched his Alex-HIS Alex. His clumsy spy, his grinning blond menace, his little prat with one hell of an ability to kick. His little devil-HIS. Not theirs, not theirs to torture or humiliate or brainwash or scar for life. HIS. His to taunt and treasure and protect and mock and coddle. His.

And the rest of K-Unit's too, he supposed. But mostly his. Definitely His.

Alex's eyelids flickered open and he blinked up at his surrogate father, his eyes glazed with pain and more than a little hazy and out of it. "W-Wolf," he whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"It's alright Alex," Wolf said again. "I'm here." He climbed into the helicopter, settling the fourteen year old on his lap, trying to make him as comfortable as possible.

Alex's eyelids drooped again. "I'm tired, Wolf," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Wolf cradled his boy-HIS BOY-in his arms, running his fingers through Alex's matted hair. He eased the child's head onto his shoulder and Alex leaned his head into the crook of Wolf's neck gratefully. "Rest, Alex. I'm here."