Coming out was not the life changing experience for Alex that he had assumed it would be. At fourteen, when he decided to deny ever being attracted to Yassen Gregorovich, mainly through the threat of peer pressure as being gay had been akin to complete social death at Brookland School. It was one of those insults hurled at outsiders or those perceived to be weak or an easy target. Alex assumed he had been one hundred percent successful at hiding that fact about himself as everyone knew about Sabina, his hot and unattainable, friend who was never quite a 'girlfriend'. He'd been called all the names under the sun but not the usual queer, bent or gay boy. If he had come out would MI6 dropped him like a stone or used him as a Raven to get Yassen or some other high profile target? His flatmates and those at work already assumed he was gay or bi as he chose to work as a barman at a gay pub. So, confessing that he was serious about Si, passed with congratulations or he better be good to you. It wasn't as if he had problems flirting with people, at work; both men, women or the few you weren't sure of, were all fair game in the play of words and coy body language. If you were flirty you sold more drinks, ensuring you kept your job.

So, precisely who should he come out to? Friends he no longer talked to and hadn't since he was a teenager. He was just not that close to most he had gotten along with since he walked away from St. Brendan's. Family, well that was just himself. He then though guiltily about Edward, Liz and Sabina. They had tried so hard to be family to a young man too broken to accept anything from fear and self loathing. He was in the cellar of the pub, changing a barrel and was overwhelmed with the awful what might have beens. He made the right choice, the Pleasures were all living and breathing and he was out of the game. Better here and now than what happened to Jack and Tom. Tom forced to live with his brother until returning to Britain and joining the Army of all things. It was nearly nine years since Cairo, ancient history. Si was no pawn in anyone's game, but a man that was very astute and had always thought Alex had a shit life at some point, a survivor who had moved on. Only had he? Was he truly willing to bet MI6 would leave him alone if he came out of the shadows?

….

Harder than coming out of his closet was the fact he had to tell Si the truth about himself. Casually dropping into a conversation, oh by the way I was blackmailed into doing black ops by MI6, the CIA and ASIS and for a short while I went freelance. The lies were second nature to him, starting with the fact Ian had not technically died in a car crash. That lead to other discomforting facts, yes Yassen did kill Ian but it wasn't personal. Alex had been a sexually confused teenager at the time. Would he ever gave resolved anything with that Russian if he had not died? No, Alex had hated his uncle's murderer, his uncle and himself in equal portions by the summer of 2001.

It was Monday evening, Alex had let himself into Si's beautiful home with a bag full of groceries, to surprise his boyfriend with proper Italian pasta in a simple mushroom, lemon and garlic sauce with homemade bread and green salad. He had even bought a bottle of Frascati to accompany this classic supper. He had the keys to his boyfriend's house and work place. This was slowly becoming home. He stopped chopping the veg and had half an hour before the bread went into the oven after proofing. In his pocket was a flash drive containing all the official files Alex had copied off Edward Pleasure's computer and the password protected journal of a long dead assassin. His foster father had been very thorough. He had obtained the CIA personnel file and medical file for Agent Rider, the Scorpia files including the damning Psyche profile, translations of files from the FSA regarding the Sarov Incident. Edward also had Bulman's notes and detailed notes regarding Desmond McCain, Damian Cray, Point Blanc Academy and Cairo. Plenty of reading material for Simon.

The Photographer arrived home to the house smelling of baking bread. He went into the kitchen to see Alex busy preparing supper. The fifty year old was an expert at reading body language and immediately noticed the tension in his love's posture and the odd flat blank mask on his face, betraying no emotions. Alex's eyes were another matter, deep brown and expressing nervousness when he thought Si wasn't looking. The other worrying detail was the fact the cook was drinking wine.

The meal passed with Si providing one sided conversation until after his second glass of passable Italian table wine. "What's the problem, Love?"

"The first person I told about the abuse happening to me did not believe me. It was pretty unbelievable the awfulness of my life at 14. It took Damian Cray kidnapping us both for Sabina to twig I was telling the truth. I told her because she had not known normal Alex, only fucked up abused Alex." The glass of white wine in front of the younger blond was still two thirds full, he then drained it in one gulp and filled it up again. "So to start at the beginning, my father was Captain John Rider, MC one of the heroes of Goose Green. Dishonourably discharged in 1984 after being put on remand for murder. He spent five months in Wandsworth before his acquittal. He had been in reality been part of the SAS for several years and seconded to MI6 special operations. His fall from hero to zero got him in with Scorpia, who were a freelance espionage agency supplying secrets, weapons, money laundering, courier services and assassination for anyone with enough money to hire them. So, he was a deep cover double agent with them until early 1987. John defied his orders and had kept up his relationship with his wife. She got pregnant and after I was born John wanted out. His extraction from Scorpia was a complete fuck up. In May 1987 both of my parents died when the plane they were travelling in exploded. I was in hospital at the time with a serious ear infection, so Ian became my guardian. My uncle also worked for MI6 Special Operations. His luck ran out in March 2001, he was spying on Herod Sayle and died from gunshot wounds to the head, causing his car to crash. So I'm technically not lying when I state he died in a car crash, though he was dead before his Porshe crashed. Ian left my guardianship to his bosses, that's when my life proceeded to go down the plug hole. I got myself into trouble, because they told me Ian died because he wasn't wearing a seat belt. My uncle may have been a neglectful bastard but he was meticulously careful about Health and Safety, I smelled a rat and started to investigate. I walked into the trap set by my new guardian Alan Blunt. He knew precisely how to blackmail me, he threatened to deport the housekeeper who looked after me, to sell the house I grew up in and to send me to some boys home or reform school. So like Alice plunging down the rabbit hole the nightmare began." Alex then passed over the flash drive. "Lots to read, most of the information I hacked off my foster father's computer before I left in 2004. The password is Echo Sierra Tango Romeo Oscar Victor all lower case no spaces between the words." Alex drank the second glass of wine. "Edward Pleasure will confirm every word. He works for the Guardian, Vanity Fair and has a literary agent at Pollmark Books." This was the test to see if MI6 came after Simon. It would also prove if Simon was willing to continue a relationship with a paranoid, depressed and jumpy ex spy. "Read it then decide, if you believe me and the fact those things happened here in Britain in the Twenty-first century. Edward even wrote a timeline and a full biography from Ian's death to me going completely cuckoo at High School."