Alex sits facing the window, his back to the door, but he flinches slightly with every step Yassen takes, carefully monitoring the other man's movement. He knows he wouldn't have been able to track the other man this accurately before he came to be here and he's not sure if he is supposed to proud or disgusted with himself because of this new skill. It's confusing, hard to tell in the way Yassen makes most things. In the past year Alex has learned so much, changed so much. Things that he knew were completely true have been proven to be total lies and things he considered the most evil crimes are complimented, accepted as necessary.

"Alex," Yassen calls out softly, "come here."

As if pulled by an invisible force, Alex does. He is reluctant to stand with this man, sure that in some way he is conceding something precious that he'll never get back, but at the same time he has no choice. He is bound by a debt he is helpless to resist and a twisted sense of loyalty that sickens him.

Once upon a time Alex had a loving sister and a government he knew would do what was best, but that was all a lie. It was all a terrible, terrible lie. His father, his cold, distant father had been using him; he was only a tool to carry out the government's dirty work. Then Yassen rescued him, but that was a lie too. Now he lives here, as Yassen's tool, and he is no freer than he ever has been, but he chose this. He chose to be Yassen's and somehow that makes all the difference. This too is a lie, but he doesn't deserve freedom; wouldn't know what to do with it if he had it.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Yassen asks, absently ruffling Alex's hair.

"Are they worth that little to you?" Alex replies with the expected insolence, and when things are like this he can almost pretend that they are a family, that Yassen cares about him. The fantasy is nice, yet at the same time disgusting. He is a tool and tools do not need emotion and should not crave affection, only usefulness.

I

When he is five, he decides that he will call himself Alex. He has never had a name before, but he thinks that it is something everyone is supposed to have and it's easier to think of himself as something than as nothing at all. The name Alex is nothing special, but it reminds him of why he exists. His first teacher, Mrs. Doe, had a son named Alex, a little boy who was accidently murdered, shot by a terrorist on a subway. Alex will grow up and make sure that that can't happen to any other children.

He tells Mrs. Doe about his decision the next day and though she doesn't smile, he knows she is happy because instead of learning geography that afternoon, Alex learns how to hold knives.

II

Alex is seven, he thinks, although he has no real way of knowing, running laps in the family's gym while Instructor quizzes him on Spanish conjugations. He has to be perfect, anything less would be a disgrace, a failure whose punishment he is sure he cannot afford. He is Blunt's son and someday soon the safety of his nation will be resting on his shoulders. Any mistakes will mean people die.

Alex has never questioned why other children go to schools and play sports. He has never questioned why he doesn't live with parents like the children he pretends to be do. They are civilians he knows and thus completely different from him. It will be his job to make sure they can continue having these things and he is proud to be able to help them. He is proud, but sometimes he wishes he knew what it would be like to have worries no larger than kicking a football.

III

Today he is no longer Alex, today he is Benjamin Walker accompanying his dad on vacation from America. Alex's target is a Russian man who plans on bombing a school full of innocent children; Benjamin is simply sightseeing in London. Alex closes his eyes, calming himself before the start of the mission and reviews the details from the case file. Moments later Benjamin opens his eyes, smiling brightly.

"Dad, hurry up, it's almost lunch time and I'm starved!"

Alex's "father" a fully trained MI6 operative, looks down, "I'm coming. I'm coming. Calm down, Ben."

"You're always so slow, Dad!" Ben laughs, racing out of the bank before melting into the crowd.

The mission is successful. Ben celebrates a beautiful day with his dad by eating raspberry sherbet. He laughs at some joke before getting distracted by the melting ice cream leaving thin sticky red trails down his hands. On the inside though, Alex sees the blood of the man he killed slowly dripping down his hands and it is all he can do not to scream.

IV

Alex is 11 when he meets Jack Starbright, although he feels much older. She is as bright as her name implies and caring; open in a way he isn't sure can be real. He keeps waiting for her to stop smiling, stop laughing, stop trying to ruffle his hair. She doesn't.

Alex knows that she is only here because MI6 is worried about him. His psychologist is afraid that he doesn't have enough attachments. It's a ridiculous thing to worry about. He is a tool; attachments are irrelevant; it's like worrying that a hammer can no longer nail a plank because it has no friends. Even so, her presence is… nice. Regardless that he's way too old for it, she makes him dinner and offers to help him with his studies. On his day off she tries to convince him to do frivolous things, like visiting a park. He always refuses, but her cooking is not bad.

V

As the weeks pass, Alex becomes used to Jack, used to dinner being ready when he comes back from training, used to hot chocolate and a slice of cake waiting for him late at night after missions. He knows emotions are weakness and yet with Jack it is getting harder and harder not to return the affection she so carelessly dispenses.

It comes as a surprise then, when he stumbles across her file. It is laying casually on a coffee table in the common space between the dorms, although Jack herself appears to be out of the suite. Curious, Alex opens it, but he never makes it past the first page.

Jack is his sister, an illegitimate daughter of Blunt discovered too late to be made into a useful tool. The file states that her mother, an American, had recently died and Jack, after finding out about him, came to England to meet her father, Alan Blunt. She was 20 the first time Blunt actually met her, too old by more than 5 years to make into a tool. For some reason, this thought makes Alex happy, Jack – bright, happy, innocent Jack – should not be a tool.

He is not sure what to think about Jack now that he knows. Families are supposed to love each other, although he is no longer so naïve as to think that is entirely true. But still the thought that maybe, even as a tool, he would be allowed to care about her, because sometimes even tools have families, is… more appealing than he would like to admit. Conflicted, he puts the file down, not caring that he hasn't read the rest.