(the legionnaire's lament)

[recanting]

The Bookshelf seems hell bent on only giving him Ian Fleming novels. It had been amusing for the first couple of times, but after a while novelty had worn off. Especially considering how badly Alex wanted to read something that didn't pertain to his old life back in England. Not to mention the fact that he thought James Bond was all in all a pretty

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[slowspeedster]

Bart hadn't meant to be watching, there was something about Alex. Mostly, he reminded him of Tim, but possibly a Tim who wasn't as broken as they all ended up. If Bart were to really think about it, he'd say it was more that he missed having Tim around, someone who really understood him, and was looking for any of those traits. But he hadn't really wanted to, and anyway, he hated psychology.

"Maybe this place likes you," he finally said, not close enough to even try to read the inscriptions or even pick out more than the basic shape of the medal.

[recanting]

"I doubt it. If it really liked me, I wouldn't be here," he shrugs, though Alex will give credit where credit's due because he didn't even know where the medal ended up back in England, and suddenly it was here again. If there were such things as powers that be here, maybe they were trying to curry favour with him. Or maybe they just figured it was especially fitting for Armistice Day. Remembering dead soldiers and all, fitting because his father was one of them.

Alex doesn't think about that. He also doesn't know what to think about Bart, as a whole, because he represents a side of the island - the fantastical side - that he hasn't really had a chance to interact with yet.

[slowspeedster]

"I'm still looking for a way to get rid of the gift the Island left for me. Nothing but nightmares from that thing, even if it doesn't actually work," Bart said, shaking his head slightly. "And all I ever get from the bookshelf is library books or comics about my life."

Then he thought about it. "Is it yours?"

[recanting]

"What...did the island leave you?" Alex finds himself treading carefully around Bart sometimes, because it's obvious that his life was similarly in turmoil - although perhaps even more so because of the added factor of powers, which Alex was still trying to wrap his mind around. The implications were terrifying, because he kept thinking about all of the evil people he'd encountered in the past year. Damian Cray. Julia Rothman. Winston Yu. What would have happened if they could suddenly do these superhuman things? He didn't even want to think about it

[slowspeedster]

"A ring that raises the dead. Or it would with the the right power source," Bart said, trying hard to keep his voice flat. "Nothing quite so cool. But that's cool. Did you know him?"

Bart didn't know his parents, he'd been almost fifteen when his mom showed up out of the blue to take him back to the future. Family was something else to him. His team was his family.

[recanting]

"A ring that --" he can tell from Bart's tone of voice that it must be something pretty bad, but Alex can't quite bring himself to believe it. Not only that, but he implications of the thing...well, he wouldn't be able to say that he wouldn't want his parents back. In fact, he'd dreamed of it many a time on slow afternoons, and would probably keep doing so for a very long time. "So people in your world can do those kinds of things?" first superheroes, and now this.

Alex shakes his head at the question. "No. They died after I was born," and he shrugs like it's no big deal. Mostly because he's told this story so many times before at school. Everyone speculated that the reason why that Rider kid was so weird was because he didn't have parents to set him straight. Half the kids at Brookland thought he was some kind of thief. Alex, for his part, just shrugged it off.

[slowspeedster]

"Not quite," Bart said, running a hand through his hair. "The bodies came back, they knew what the person knew, but they weren't right. The rings brought back people the living had strong attachments to so that they could feed off the living, destroy them in the worst possible ways. Raising the body is one thing, the soul is something else."

He didn't want to talk about it, not really, but knowing that anyone would want a way to bring others back. "My folks aren't around, either. I never met my dad. He and his twin sister died in an attack. The hero thing is pretty much a family business. My mom, well, she couldn't be around. Even after she found out I didn't die with my dad, there were reasons. They told me she was dead, the same way. And she doesn't live where I can just drop by for a visit."

[recanting]

It makes him feel a little sick to his stomach for a moment, frankly, because in those few seconds that it had taken Bart to elaborate, he'd already imagined what it would be like if his parents miraculously showed up. But he should have known by now that everything came with a price. MI6 should have taught him that.

"You don't have to tell me all of this if you don't want to, you know," Alex says quietly - not because he doesn't want to hear it. That couldn't be further from the truth. But because he wasn't so forthcoming with information, and he wondered why Bart was. It probably wasn't easy to talk about it either, but Alex had asked. He just hadn't been expecting to open up a proverbial can of worms.

[slowspeedster]

"I don't mind. It's just...well, a thousand years away. My mom. I was born in the thirty-first century," Bart said. "Not exactly a normal life. Wouldn't know what normal is, really. Something I read about in a book, maybe."

It wasn't horribly important to him, but it meant something to the others. "We used to sit around back at the Tower talking about that. What it would be like to be normal. Robin was the one with the closest thing to a normal childhood, and he was probably the freakiest of us. Especially with how he used to say he'd retire someday. When the work was done."

[recanting]

"Retiring is definitely the best way to go," especially since it was one of Alex's biggest dreams - that he'd live to see that day when he wasn't a spy anymore. "Even teenaged superheroes need a break sometimes," he tries for an encouraging smile, but he's not quite sure how well it turned out.

His secrets weighed down on him. He hated them because they required him to lie to everyone around him, to pretend he was normal even though Bart obviously knew he wasn't. What kind of normal kid got themselves strapped down to a table?

But he wasn't sure who he could trust, here. It was hard to tell, and Alex had been burned enough times to know how important discerning was.

[slowspeedster]

Bart watched him, then looked away. "I'm not going to ask," Bart said, since he knew that was probably the issue. "I've always been lucky that I never really had to hide, there were always people I knew I could be open with. If you ever want to, you can."

He didn't want to push. One of the worst times of his life were the memories of that year when he lied to everyone about his powers, and tried to be an ordinary twenty-year-old.

[recanting]

If he's going to be honest, it sounds amazing. The idea of having nothing to hide, even if he comes from a world where everyone is hiding something. He's tried not to make impulsive decisions. He's tried to be level headed about everything.

They'd made him sign the Official Secrets Act. But hell if that was binding now, on this island where MI6 couldn't touch him.

He clears his throat. "You know, I'd say that you'd probably think I'm mad, but obviously...that isn't an issue here."

[slowspeedster]

"My sanity has always been in question," Bart agreed. "So who am I to judge?"

It was just that simple, sometimes. But not always. He absently ran a thumb along the bookshelf, stopping at a copy of a collection of Ben Franklin's essays.

[recanting]

There's a pressure here, now. Even if Bart isn't saying anything, Alex didn't like lying and he sighed, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip before taking a deep breath. "Look, I'm not going to try and say that I'm exactly normal. But I'm not...like you, either. I haven't got any great powers or anything back home."

Besides, they won't even let me have a gun, he thinks silently, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm not a superhero."

[slowspeedster]

"But you knew something that got you into a position where someone was willing to do anything to get it out," Bart said, quietly. "Most people go through their lives never ending up in that situation. All I can really say from observation is that it wasn't your first time. It was habit to bounce back and keep quiet."

[recanting]

It wasn't his first time. But Alex is also terrible at resisting interrogation in general, anyways. Mostly because he had never been trained, or because his own loyalty to the people he worked for was negligible. And if spilling information would keep people from cutting his fingers off one by one, then that's what Alex would do. Ironically, those people had only continued because he had nothing left to give.

He's uncomfortable with this line of questioning and it shows, clearing his throat, staring at the floor. He doesn't want to relive it, and it's all right there under the surface.

"I'm a spy," Alex blurts, finally.

It feels good to get it off his chest. Now the only thing to do was see if he was believed.