Victor ached all over, his brain a foggy mess. What had they done to him this time? He shifted a little, checking for any particular pain, but it was just generalized aches, a few bruises probably.

"Victor? You finally awake?" Will's voice sounded far away, but it helped Victor focus. "Shit, man, you really scared me that time."

Nothing scared Will. Except for the one moment of woe that morning, Victor had never seen Will hit the bottom, or even come close to it. Victor tried to raise his head, but he was angled wrong. Ugh. He didn't want to wake up. Everything was painful. But maybe it would be less painful if he could flop on to a bed. Victor slowly blinked his eyes. Everything was blurry, and bright. He closed them again, focusing on feeling his arms and legs and fingers and toes instead. But they were off, too. It took him way too long to realize he was still in wolf form. And then even longer to remember what had happened. That alpha... who was a Letter. The damn traitor to their people. Whose sent dared call to Victor, making him want to cry, mine! Mate! Fate was a cruel bitch.

Finally, he drew enough energy together to shift, and with Will's help, he was able to flop onto one of the bottom bunks and roll to the back where it was slightly shadowed.

Will didn't ask what happened. Sellars had been the only one who'd done that. The rest of them didn't know enough science to make heads or tails out of anything, and relaying the details just made them all relive their own bad memories. But Victor needed to tell Will about the alpha.

"There's an alpha... working with them..." Victor's voice was ragged and painful. He must have been screaming, his throat raw. 

"A prisoner who's talking?" Will asked.

"No..." Victor shook his head automatically and regretted it. "He's a Letter."

Will was silent for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"He's... one of them..." Even though the mattress was crappy, it was infinitely better than the floor, and Victor found himself clawing to stay awake and talk to Will. But the sedative still wasn't out of his system yet, and he couldn't hold on to Will's words as he drifted off.

* * *

The next time Victor woke was easier. The first conscious thought that crossed his mind was, Fuck. I have no idea what my count is. It wasn't the first time the Letters had messed him up and he'd lost track. If they'd known how much it destabilized him, he knew they would have started doing it on purpose, so like everything else in his life in here, he kept it hidden as best he could. He didn't tell Will about his counting. Didn't even tell Bob in a whisper in his furry ear. Will didn't trust the Letters. If they thought they had something to gain by sticking hidden microphones everywhere, they would. And they probably had. 

He pushed himself up slowly. His muscles still ached, but not with the overwhelming exhaustion that had dragged him back to sleep earlier.

Will was at his side in a second. "You doing okay?"

"I'll be alright," Victor assured him, but accepted his help nonetheless. He jumped at the press of something cold on his ankle before he realized it was Bob's nose, his way of checking on Victor. Some of the guys didn't think Bob was all there in the head. Victor was pretty sure the alpha was all-too-there, and he didn't blame him for coping however he could.

Victor remembered the traitor alpha in a rush, feeling all the more angry and betrayed thinking of him now. 

"You were saying something about the Letters earlier," Will said. "About an alpha working with them?" His voice was low, but all of Victor's paranoia sensors were pinging wildly. His eyes darter. Could the Letters hear them? But if the alpha was working with them, surely they must know what he was. How could they not?

He opened his mouth to confirm Will's questions, but something, that fucking bond pulling at his gut, saying the alpha was his mate, was telling him to stay quiet. The very idea of being tied to such a man, who could betray his own people like that, made Victor's stomach churn, and he pressed his lips together, trying to stop the force that was clenching his stomach. Will half-picked him up and carried him to the toilet just in time for Victor to spew the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Even after flushing the mess away and rinsing his mouth, he didn't feel any better. Every time his heart whispered mate, his head screamed betrayal!

"You want to talk about it?" Will asked gently.

Victor shook his head emphatically. He needed to tell Will, but not yet. Not when his body was at such war with itself. He was still recovering from whatever they'd knocked him out with. When he was feeling better, then he'd tell Will. He'd tell everyone. Will helped him back to the bunk, and Victor curled up in a ball, his face turned to the wall, seeking as much privacy as he could. Will's question from the morning echoed in his brain once again.

Do you ever feel... feel just like giving up?

Victor's answer had been different that morning. He'd been so set in his patterns, in his survival mechanisms. But seeing that alpha had completely turned Victor upside down. If Will were to ask him now? His answer would be different.

Yes.