Chapter Text
Eggsy left Merlin at the plane, the wing-blades he proudly wore gleaming in the overhead lights of Valentine’s compound. The woman who had greeted him was prattling on about all sorts of tidbits and factoids, but Eggsy was barely paying attention. He scanned the walls on either side of him, the deep recesses cut into the hard stone bearing heavy doors more suited to a jail than the shelter Valentine espoused this place to be.
“Got heat signatures behind every door, Eggy, multiples at times. Likely the missing dignitaries, but we cannae be certain. We’ll deal with them later.”
Eggsy nodded imperceptibly, knowing the motion would register on the glasses for Merlin. He smiled and flicker out his wings in a practiced motion of arrogance and found himself comforted by the snick and clack of the blades on his wings. Valentine’s hostess hadn’t blinked twice at the adornments, their clearly expensive nature and his supposed “authority” combining to make the woman turn a blind eye to what were clearly weapons, despite the “no weapons” policy he’d been patted down for. It became clear to Eggsy why, when he was ushered into a large room full of Pinnacle-flock partygoers, almost all bearing the stylish adornments of their class. Footballers, monarchs, oil barons, celebrities, singers, almost every walk of life that the wealthy and idle held was represented. Eggsy winced internally, spotting more than one now-former icon of his youth among the group. He was stopped by an Ascent-flock barkeep, the man’s berry-colored wings unadorned, but held unnaturally still.
“Would sir care for a drink?”
Eggsy smirked as if he was amused by this request and addressed the man, keeping his eyes somewhere above the man’s shoulder.
“Martini. Gin, not vodka. Obviously. Stirred for ten seconds while glancing at an unopened bottle of vermouth.”
Merlin choked in his earpiece, trying not to laugh too badly. Morgana’s voice cut through Merlin’s coughs with her bright, bell-like laughter.
The man nodded and turned to leave. Eggsy noted the reason for the man’s still wings was some sort of muted harness wired into his wings. Glancing about, Eggsy noted that all the other non-Pinnacle staff he could see were in much the same situation.
“Merlin, they’ve got the staff clipped, you clocking this? Ascents at the very least. I haven’t seen any Nadir, and the only Pinnacles I’ve seen are the administrative staff that met us.”
“Copy that, Eggsy. Keep that in mind when you inevitably blow the place up, will you?”
“No promises, Merlin.”
The man returned with his drink, and Eggsy sipped it, not bothering to tip. Roxy had told him early on in training that the concept of tipping was entirely too American for European Pinnacles, and thus they didn’t generally bother. Eggsy always thought it was a load of bunk, but the non-response of the waiter seemed to confirm that little tidbit. The drink was terrible; whomever had mixed it added too much gin and not nearly enough of anything else to counter it. Given the haughtiness he was exuding in order to fit in, a poorly made drink seemed like the same kind of response he’d have given as well.
“Eggsy, get me online. Now.”
“Yep. On it.”
Eggsy watched the room for a moment, before spotting an older man on the balcony with a laptop open. Nodding to himself, he headed upstairs and approached the man.
“Society is dead; long live society,” Eggsy said, the falseness in his voice unmistakeable. However, the man before him was clearly either not paying attention or wasn’t accustomed to people being sarcastic, because he brightened and greeted Eggsy when he saw him.
“Amen to that! Morton Lindstrom.” The man sounded Scandinavian, and his handshake was weak when he clasped Eggsy’s hand. Not someone accustomed to actual hard work, Eggsy surmised.
“Chester King. How’d you get online? I couldn’t.”
“Oh it’s a closed network, you see. Preauthorized connections only.”
“Ah, of course. Do you happen to have the correct time? I seem to be on my last time zone.”
“Oh yes! I-“ Eggsy cut the man off with a shock from his signet ring, sliding him further into the small booth and scooting in behind the laptop. He plugged in the small USB rootkit drive Merlin had given him and made to rise, only to be stopped by the feel of a knife against his throat.
“Oh no, none of that now. Get up, nice and slow.”
Eggsy pursed his lips, feeling the cold metal heating against his skin as he listened to Charlie fucking Hesketh murmur in his ear.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Well my family was naturally invited. Obviously.” The nasal, oily quality of his voice hadn’t changed since he’d been banished from Kingsman. The smugness in his tone was overwhelming, and Eggsy spared a scant moment to push an image of Charlie to Harry, along with a feeling of annoyance-thisbitch-amusement.
Morgana spoke low into the comms.
“That stupid fucking little prick. We should have killed him when we had the chance, Merlin.”
“You’re not wrong, lass. Eggsy, see if you cannae get a look at his neck. See if he’s the same kind of traitor as mummy and daddy, or just a scared little boy following orders.”
Eggsy turned his head slowly, telegraphing his moves. There, behind Charlie's ear, was a scar. Newly made, but there nonetheless.
“Killed your sponsor, you know. Old bastard tried to poison me.”
Charlie froze, and the knife shook a bit against Eggsy’s neck.
“No you didn’t. Father said he’s in his own shelter. His implant is still active.”
“Of course it is. I cut it from his traitorous fucking neck and Merlin rigged it to remain active, sending a false signal. He’s as dead as Amelia. Remember her?”
Morgana snorted into the comms, listening to Eggsy’s drivel. Charlie, however, was shaking.
“You little fuck. If they let people like you in, it’s no wonder they’re all as good as dead anyway. Even with Chester gone, you really think you’ll be able to stop this? Valentine is going to win, mark my words. Now get the fuck up.”
Charlie jerked Eggsy up by the wing, and Eggsy hissed at the intrusive touch. He could feel an echo of surprise and dislike from Harry’s end of the bond, but it wasn’t enough to distract him entirely. He stood up, the knife still pressed to his throat, and let out an audible sigh of relief when Charlie’s hand slipped from his wing to his wrist, holding him in place that way.
“Valentine! I’ve caught a fucking spy!” Charlie howled across the room. Eggsy could see a large set of clear window panes, Valentine and the terrifyingly intense woman that always accompanied him looking across the way at him.
“You’re in it now, you little whore. Just wait until th-“ Eggsy cut Charlie off with a buffet of his wing, knocking the other man back. Eggsy winced a bit as the knife gave him a shallow slice across part of his throat, but turned to face Charlie head on. Charlie, grasping at his chest where the sharp ends of Eggsy’s wing-blades had caught him across the sternum. Eggsy recalled his one-off quip to Merlin all those months ago about breaking Charlie’s nose, and proceeded to follow through. The crunch was more satisfying than he thought it had any right to be.
Eggsy looked to the control room, where Valentine was gesticulating and his companion was quickly typing something into a computer terminal.
“Get back to the fucking plane, Eggsy,” said Morgana, calm as ever.
“On it!”
Eggsy vaulted over the balcony railing, landing hard, but stable. He dashed towards the exit he’d been led into, dodging partygoers and the occasional grabby staff member. They were easily avoided. The armed men in winter weather tactical gear were not. Gunshots rang out before he knew where he was going, and he felt the impact of more than a few of them on his suit. It hurt, like any bullet would, but the suit’s superior kevlar weave deflected the shots. He’d been told by Pellinore that low-caliber bullets wouldn’t be able to pierce the suit, but the closer a short got, or the larger the caliber, the more the fibers would be damaged by the blast. Anything larger than a .45 and he could expect to be heading home with a new hole.
Merlin was shouting orders in his ear, directions for returning through the wending pathways and hallways of Valentine’s compound. He followed them as best he could, firing his handgun until he was fairly sure he was out of bullets. When some of the more adventurous guards got close enough, Eggsy would flash out his wings in various sweeps and jabs. The metal adorning his wings all but vibrated as he made contact again and again with flesh, whatever protection they wore falling to the beautiful knives he wore. He was nowhere near proficient with this form of combat, and though Eggsy felt his wings tiring, he knew he had to press on. He thought idly that it was a good thing none of the goons seemed to be skilled at winged combat; otherwise he’d be in ribbons.
He could hear Roxy’s mission in the background of his earpiece, and from the way it sounded, the newly christened Lancelot was having issues of her own. Something like a dull explosion sounded, and Roxy let out a shriek of terror before collecting herself enough to pull off the shot. He heard Morgana muttering a countdown, and at “one” there was a split second of silence and then both Merlin and Morgana whooped in exultation.
“Well done! Well done both of you!” said Merlin, the relief evident in his voice.
“Excellent shot Lancelot!” Morgana echoed. Eggsy could only hear Roxy’s heavy breathing and occasional scream as she fell back towards the earth. When he finally heard the ripping pull of a parachute, he smirked to himself.
“Well done, Rox! Good girl.” With that, Eggsy ran again, head back in the mission.
Eggsy’s parkour knowledge came in extremely handy, using the rough-hewn rock of the mountain as a stepping stone over guards. He tried once to let his wings take him into a glide, but the weight of the blades was such that he nearly fell from the sky like a nestling. Instead, he dropped to his knees and skidded through several guards, wings neatly slicing them at the hamstring and thigh. He lurched to his feet, none too gracefully, and kept moving. He paused only to pick up one of the plastic-and-metal guns the goons had dropped, but didn’t have the time to check and see if the magazine was full. He’d noted several times that his adversaries had rifle jams, likely from the slipshod construction of the guns, but it made him feel better to have something in his hands which which he could commit acts of violence.
He could feel the chill in the air from the outside trickling in, so he knew he was close. Merlin was no longer in his ear, shuffling around in the background noise, but Morgana was giving one and two word direction as needed. He turned the corner and saw the jet parked atop the storage elevator, facing the runway, and he could just make out Merlin trying to talk to the armed guards aiming their guns at him. Eggsy aimed the gun, but the click-clank of the internal mechanisms failing let him know he had a jam on his hands.
“Merlin!”
The armed guards turned, and as soon as they did, Eggsy could spot Merlin take aim with a rifle of some sort and take them out quickly.
“Get fucking in!” The Scotsman’s voice rang out through the corridor and reverberated through his earpiece, and Eggsy took off at a sprint towards the jet. He watched as Merlin took aim again and leapt to the right, letting his wings billow out and give him a touch of extra air time before landing and running again. Merlin’s shot was singular and precise; whatever goon or thug was following him was no more. Eggsy all but crashed into the stairway and climbed taking the steps two at a time. He collapsed into one of the seats and looked up at Merlin.
“Let’s get the fuck out of ‘ere!” His accent slipped through with the stress of the situation.
“We can’t. I can’t get into Valentine’s machine. He’s got biometric security, and while given enough time I’m sure we could get past it, Morgana and I, right now time is not our friend. You’re gonna have to get in there and make sure his hand never touches that desk.”
Eggsy stared, mouth open and gaping like a fish.
“Are you takin’ the fuckin’ piss?!”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Sorry Eggsy. It’s the best we can do right now. I’m working on getting into more than just the main computer system, but it’s just not enough to stop him entirely,” said Morgana through their comms.
Eggsy sighed and heaved himself upright, not caring that the blades on his wings had left blooded slices in the fine leather of the seat he’d carelessly thrown himself into.
“Alright. Let’s have that then,” Eggsy said, motioning to the rifle in Merlin’s hands.
“Oh no. This is mine. I’ll show you yours.” Eggsy rolled his eyes at Merlin’s dramatics but followed the older man anyway.
As they walked he felt a small push of concern-love-question from Harry, and sent back love-conviction-dedication along with a dim image of the biometric handprint he’d spotted on Merlin’s terminal. Harry responded with love-careful-staysafe.
Merlin ushered him into the small plane bathroom and tweaked the picture frame behind him. It opened a panel, a small arsenal of weaponry and gadgetry inside. He looked over the collection, and grabbed the Rainmaker. He sent an image of it to Harry, and received a simple burst of happiness-smugness. Eggsy smirked to himself at Harry’s response.
“Good choice.”
Merlin left him to resupply, and Eggsy mirthfully went to work, jamming as much as he could carry into his pockets, holsters, and even an odd little handgun carrier in the small of his back on his belt. He pocketed an extra clip, and slid a switchblade stiletto knife into his picket alongside the grenades. Eggsy also stopped and rooted around in the small galley before leaving. He had noticed a bottle or two of Lucozade in the refrigerator when he had made tea that morning, and despite it being his least favorite flavor of cherry, he now willingly drained an entire bottle. Tossing it into the small bin, Eggsy moved on. He made his way back to the front of the jet, gave Merlin a cheeky grin, and darted back down the hallway.
The path was clear for the most part, save for the bodies. A few of the goons were still alive, their groaning any begging battering against Eggsy’s psyche as he moved between them. Once, a hand grabbed his ankle and almost tripped him; he’d turned and shot the owner of the hand with one of his handguns almost before he registered pulling it from the holster. The hand went lax and Eggsy shuddered a bit pulling away from the dead man’s grasp. As he skidded around a corner, cursing the sickened floors and the posh shoes with no traction he had to wear, Merlin’s voice crackled through the comms again.
“Shit. Eggsy, Valentine’s using someone else’s satellite. He’s gonna reconnect the chain and take no time at all. He’s already at twenty percent!”
“I can try and slow down the linking, but the other satellite isn’t easily hackable,” piped in Morgana, her frenetic typing audible through the radio. Merlin cut back through.
“Eggsy, it seems Valentine’s got a present for you. Get a move on!”
Even without Merlin’s vocalized warning, Eggsy would have realized the issue when the first bullet went flying at him. He dropped, opening the umbrella and pulling his wings back into a smaller target. He fired the Rainmaker, knocking back a few of the goons, but something large punched through the fabric shield.
’50 cal,’ his mind supplied as he looked at the hole.
Another punched through to the left of the first, and grazed his wing. It burned as it traveled, but Eggsy pushed the pain to the back of his mind and dug into his pocket. The first thing to touch his hand was the stiletto knife, and the precious seconds it took to rifle past that to the lighter meant another hole in the Rainmaker. One sheer panel was already down, and two others were benign to decay rapidly. Still, Eggsy closed his hand around the warm metal object, clicked on, and threw it in a graceful arc. He then huddled behind the umbrella, turning so his wings would take the brunt of the explosion if the Rainmaker failed.
The sound was deafening, even knocking out comms for a moment with a scratchy hiss. The scent of blood, burning feathers, and cooked flesh made Eggsy’s stomach turn. He ran a hand over his face and swallowed the bile that had risen. Unpleasant through it was, he couldn’t afford the distraction.
The Rainmaker beeped shrilly in his hands. Checking the indicators, Eggsy realized that its usefulness had run it’s course for anything other than a bludgeon. And while that might be handy in any other situation, this was not one of them. Eggsy dropped it and equipped his handgun. Taking off at a run, he wended his way back towards the center where Valentine’s party and the computer terminal controlling everything lay waiting.
Eggsy turned a corner, and was greeted with a squadron of security guards. They were armed with the crappy assault rifles, but there were enough of them that Eggsy knew he didn’t really stand a chance. He turned back to try and find another path, but the end of that corridor was besieged as well. All that was left to him was a clip of handgun ammunition, his knife, a grenade, and his wings. Seeing no other option, Eggsy darted into one of the cement doorways lining the hallway.
Breathing heavily, he spoke aloud.
“Merlin, I’m fucked.”
“As am I,” came the dour response. Whatever Merlin meant by that, Eggsy didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that this wasn’t the kind of fight he could win. It settled low in his gut, the idea that this was how he died. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t expected. It wasn’t what he thought he was meant for. He spared a split second for the memory of Alain’s hands on his shoulders, the craggy face and kind warmth of the man’s voice as he said, “You will rise up.”
‘So much for that,’ he thought.
“They’re comin’ at me from both sides; I’m out of options. Rox? Rox, I need a favor. Call my mum and tell her to lock herself away from Dean and the baby. And tell her I love her.”
He lost whatever Roxy’s response might have been as he closed his eyes.
He focused inwards, and connected to Harry, opening the bond between them fully. He threw everything he had ever felt for the man into the bond. He sent his love, his memory of their shared passion and lust, his rage at seeing Harry nearly die, his own despair at the thought of losing whatever future they might have had, his shared betrayal at Arthur’s deception and what that would do to the man who had followed him for over twenty years….
Then it dawned on him.
The scar.
“Merlin. You remember the implants we said were of no use to us? Any chance you can turn ‘em on?”
Eggsy’s determination bled through the bond, and was echoed by Harry’s side, the sheer intensity of the older man’s love ringing throughout his bruised and battered body. He smiled a bit to himself as he heard Merlin’s rough muttering through the comms.
“Yes please.”
The shooting stopped. For a moment nothing happened, and Eggsy leaned forward to see what was happening. And immediately wished he hadn’t. Soft pops followed by a splattering noise sounded down the corridor, an 8-point hat flying through the air with a trail of lavender smoke billowing from the back. Eggsy registered shouting across his comms, Morgana in German and Merlin’s incredulousness.
When the dust had cleared, literally, Eggsy swept out from the frame and looked around, his gun raised. Across the floor, the corpses of every last soldier lay on the floor, steam rising in the chilled air from where their heads used to be. Eggsy leaned back against the door and sighed in relief.
“Merlin, you’re a fucking genius!” Eggsy started to brush the bond again, but was interrupted by banging and clanging against the door at his back. A feminine voice was squawking behind the steady thuds. Confused, Eggsy reached up and flipped the little toggle that held the viewport’s shutter closed. He was greeted with an irate, but beautiful woman. She looked familiar, and in his ear, Morgana confirmed his suspicion.
“Good heavens, that’s Princess Tilde from Sweden! She’s been missing for weeks!” A touch of awe was in Morgana’s voice as she spoke.
“What the fuck is happening out there?!” shouted the princess, her eyes darting about as if she could see more than a few feet past the door thanks to the deep recess it was in. Her platinum colored wings had an almost sky blue gleam to the shadows caused by their owner’s frantic flapping.
“Aren’t you that princess that went missing?” Eggsy asked, feeling the need to verbally confirm that this was, in fact, the missing woman and not some doppelgänger.
“Can you get me out of here?” she asked, ignoring his question.
“Not unless you really are the princess.” Eggsy muttered cheekily.
She rolled her eyes and gave him a look that Eggsy privately thought Merlin would be copying for future recruits.
“I’m sorry, I don’t exactly have my passport or crown with me! Yes! I’m Tilde! Now can you please get me out of here?!”
Eggsy started to open the door, but Valentine’s lisping voice boomed throughout the complex and he halted, canting his head to listen.
“You motherfucker. Did you really think I was stupid enough to implant one of those things in my own head? What, are you fucking crazy?! All those innocent people you killed, and for what? You didn’t stop shit!”
“Eggsy, the signal’s started! Get Valentine’s hand off that bloody desk now!” Merlin shouted in his ear, and Eggsy physically winced at the volume of it. He looked back at the princess through the window.
“Sorry love. Got to go save the world,” he said, giving her a rueful smile. He started to leave but she called out to him and he turned back to look at her.
“If you save the world, I let you do it in the asshole!” Her bright eyes sparkled with amusement and not an insignificant amount of panic. Eggsy blinked.
“Don’t think my mate would be too pleased with me giving him the old heave-to.”
“Bring him along, then!”
“Eggsy! Stop fucking about and get in there!” Morgana’s voice cut across the princess’ and Eggsy tossed the girl a wink before dashing towards the command center. He stooped as he entered, grabbing one of the door guards’ guns from their fallen body, and took aim at Valentine’s figure behind the plate-glass window. He swore to himself as he saw that the glass was bullet-resistant, though he had succeeded in getting Valentine’s assistant to pull the man away from the desk, thus stopping the signal. At this rate he’d run out of bullets, though, before he managed to bring the window down.
“Merlin, how do I get up there?!”
“Keep shooting, I’ll find a route.” Merlin’s voice was laced with clear worry.
Eggsy eventually jammed the gun, and was trying desperately not to count down the seconds in his head that were passing with Valentine’s hand on the kill-switch, but was failing spectacularly.
’45…46…47…48.…’
The sound of breaking glass and bullets made him snap his neck up. Valentine’s assistant was leaping from the shattered window, a handgun in one hand and her glistening, clearly black-dyed wings flared out behind her to slow her descent. Eggsy rolled forward and past her as she landed, her bladed legs skittering on the polished floor and leaving deep groves as they went. She came at him with a feline grace, deadly and beautiful, and were she not clearly trying to eviscerate him, Eggsy would have stopped to watch her in motion the way he had watched Harry move in the pub all those months ago. She was completely counter to Harry though, whose sinuous moves were simply a refinement of the man himself. This creature trying to take his head off was like smoke curling above a campfire, twisting and turning in a way that was unpredictable but glorious to behold.
Eggsy ducked and dodged, putting his gymnastic skills and parkour abilities to the test as she danced around him in a lethal waltz. The girl barely used her wings, he noticed, only using them to buffer her spins and whirls and to occasionally obscure her movements from him. She battered him as fiercely as any brutality he’d experienced from Dean or his thugs; her strikes sure and exacting. He struck out at her at every chance, using his fists and wings. She managed to avoid getting cut, though once Eggsy brought his wing-blades into play, her moves became fiercer and more desperate. They clashed, her leg becoming almost tangled in his right wing, and the sword-like prosthetic stabbing painfully into the meat just past a wing joint. He hissed and twisted, sending her backwards and out of his flesh, but she executed a near-flawless handspring that had her back on her feet in no time.
She leapt forward onto her hands and began spinning, her legs swiping at him every rotation and very nearly slicing a hand off when he miscalculated a block aimed at her calf. Eggsy shot a leg out and got her in the sternum, a small slice to his thigh the only cost. It sent her reeling backwards, her hand flying to her chest. He stood taller and flared his wings out, the soft snick of the metal blades a comfort to hear. She stood and glared at him, before running towards him. Eggsy was dimly aware of Merlin and Morgana shouting at him through comms yet again, but their instructions took a backseat when the girl sprung up, her wings carrying her aloft. She dove at him, her leg outstretched and the blade on the end of her prosthetic extended as far as it would go. The girl’s leg sailed past his head and impaled the floor.
Eggsy let himself fall backwards in a rolling tumble as she flew at him, and jammed his heels together, drawing out the poisoned blade. Eggsy used the last of the momentum from coming out of his reverse roll to bring his leg straight up and back over his head, catching the small blade in the girl’s back, settling between ribs. He jerked his leg back to the ground and used his hands and wings to regain his footing. He turned to the girl, as she stood there gasping. She faced away from him, but her injuries made her telegraph badly. Though one prosthetic leg was stuck in the floor, the other shot out as she tried to vainly stab him through the chest. Eggsy twisted out of the way, the blade scoring his chest lightly and cutting through the tie that Harry had picked out.
Eggsy spun, as delicate on his toes as a ballerina, and extended his wings as close to horizontally as he could. He felt more than saw the slices as he cut her down, her skin already darkening with the poison from his shoe. The girl fell into pieces on the floor, one ghoulish thigh still trapped in the upright prosthetic like a macabre trophy.
He looked at Valentine’s back, the man shouting to someone named “Gazelle.” Eggsy summed the girl in pieces on the floor was Gazelle, though he’d never caught her name before. He grabbed the upright leg, grimly plucked the flesh from the metal, and took aim.
As it happened, he didn’t need to.
The man turned, his glittering purple wings drooping behind him in clear grief, a small ridge of dirty, mud-colored Nadir brown running along the bottom-most edge of both. Eggsy looked down at the remains of the girl and noted for the first time, that though her wings were clearly dyed black on purpose, the solid line of glittering purple at the base of each wing wasn’t a paint job. They were true mate-feathers. He looked back up at Valentine. The pain etched on the man’s face at the sight and emotional shattering of his mate-bond was almost enough to make Eggsy wish he hadn’t been the one to provide it’s source.
“I took yours, you take mine?” Valentine lisped at Eggsy, his heart not in the quip.
Eggsy said nothing, curling his hand tighter around the prosthetic blade.
“Yeah. Seems fair.” Valentine nodded once at Eggsy, pulled a small handgun from his jacket pocket, and shot himself.
Silence ruled the bunker. No party music played, no chatter and clinking of glasses could be heard. Eggsy’s own heavy breathing seemed too loud in the muted quiet. Eggsy dropped the leg, his body trembling from adrenaline and injury. He felt exhausted in a way that he didn’t know a person could be. Eggsy opened the bond just a bit, having closed it off in the heat of the battle. Harry’s constant stream of love-worry was like a balm to him emotionally, and he let himself fall into the gentle swells he received. When Harry realized that Eggsy was alive and transferring his emotions again, the fierceness of his emotions couldn’t be dampened. Eggsy chuckled a bit in joy at this, his ribs protesting at the small exhalation. Even that pain didn’t diminish his happiness at feeling Harry’s.
Merlin’s voice in his ear brought Eggsy from his reverie, joyous in it’s own right.
“Well done son!”
Eggsy smiled at the praise and swiped his hand across the blood seeping slowly from the slice across his chest.
“Merlin, mate. Gonna take my time gettin’ back. I’m just a bit tired. Might have a seat for a mo, yeah?” Eggsy collapsed into one of the chairs that was, thankfully, mostly exploded-corpse free.
“Take a minute, Eggsy. But we’ll need to go retrieve Lancelot quickly. Night's coming and we dinnae want to leave her out there to freeze.”
“Eggsy? Eggsy, love, we’ve got Harry back in England,” said Morgana. “A small group brought him in from America about twenty minutes ago. He’s in the medical ward, but I can patch him through if you want to talk to him. Apparently the Americans who treated him know a thing or two about serious injuries.”
“Yeah, yeah ‘Melia, if you can. Y’mind givin’ us a private channel?”
“Already done. I’ll click you over now.”
A few seconds passed and Eggsy heard the tell-tale sound of a channel being switched, and the fizzle from static to clarity.
“Eggsy? Darling?”
Eggsy let a near-sob escape his lips hearing Harry’s tired voice.
“Fuck ‘Arry. I… I fuckin’…” Eggsy trailed off into adrenalin-filed laughter, all nervousness and relief.
“Believe me, darling, I feel the same,” Harry said, a small amount of laughter in his own voice.
“S’it always like this? All blood and almost dyin’ and getting shot an’ cut on?” Eggsy wasn’t even aware of slipping between his natural accent and the one he affected for the mission, though Harry took it as a sign of Eggsy’s impending post-mission shut down.
“Not always, dear. And the way you’re feeling, not the part about us and our bond, but the mission? Everyone feels that way in the beginning. It’s rather a sign of our callousness when we begin to lose that racing high and crashing low from a mission. It passes eventually, though several agents empty various methods for hastening its departure. Percival and Lancelot, James mind you, used to take couples cooking classes to cool down. The Gareth before the one you know had a severe drinking problem rise out of his. We find different ways to cope. You’ll find one, though if I may, I do hope yours isn’t too debilitating or destructive. Our current Gawain tends to get into bar fights or set fires. It’s all very ridiculous, but there you have it.”
“D’you know I don’ think I heard a thing you just said? I just like hearin’ you talk.” Eggsy knew he sounded punchy, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, the craggy rocks and sick balls an odd juxtaposition.
“Trust me darling, just hearing your voice is reassurance enough as to your wellbeing. Now go get up, and get back to the plane so that you may come home to me.”
“‘Arry? M’not sorry I didn’ shoot JB. But I am sorry that I made you mad ‘cause of it. And killin’ Arthur and all.”
“Beloved, I’m not mad at you for that. I’m not the best judge of my emotional fortitude when it comes to you. Killing Chester, however much that might have been poorly done, was necessary. Morgana told me that Merlin found some fairly incriminating evidence pointing to Chester’s deceit. Not to mention, the emails composed to a few highly disreputable people with your name on a kill order attached. His loss is a heavy one. I can’t lie about that. Chester King was my friend for a great many years. But he tried to have you killed, dear boy, and I would have torn his wings from his body had he succeeded. Losing his wife changed him and not for the better.
“I can’t say I’m not disappointed that you didn’t pass the dog test, but I understand why you didn’t. And given how very nearly close you have come to losing me and me to losing you, I can’t honestly bring myself to care about it. I rather think saving the world counts a bit more.” Harry’s voice took on a scratchy quality as he talked about Chester, though he didn’t let much else through.
“I killed ‘is mate. That’s ‘ow come. Gazelle? She was Nadir, like me. She painted ‘er wings, mated up with Valentine and I killed ‘er. Shot ‘imself. Doesn’ much feel like I saved the world an’ all. ‘Sides, ‘ow long did I let it go one for? Five minutes? Ten? Plenty of people dead ‘cause of me, ‘Arry.”
“But not your mother. Not your sister. Not me. I’ve killed more people than I know about in my lifetime. I’ll kill more, and heaven forbid they make me Arthur, I’ll send my friends out to die one by one for the sake of some nebulous “greater good.” We are always going to skirt the line between good and evil, Eggsy. There’s nowhere else for us to exist. We can’t hope to live among the good, because we are by our natures as Kingsmen and as people, too dark for them. You’ve lived a life full of pain and sorrow and no matter how you try, you will never be innocent again. It’s a terrible thing to say, more terrible still to have lived it. But it is true and it is real, and that’s what life has dealt you.
“But nor are we evil. We know our faults and our shadows. We try to be superior to them, to overcome. We try to rise up. And we will fall. But we will never fall so far as to forget why we do what we do. Why we become what we become. We can see the darkness in the hearts of others for we have our own to match. But we also carry within us a light, blinding and good, and it is that very light that makes us the only ones who can shoulder this burden. The weight of the dead is not yours alone. And nor will their ghosts haunt you for it, for their wrath should be laid at Valentine’s feet alone.”
Harry coughed, a dry sound that made Eggsy wince and reach through the bond with comfort.
“Now go get on the plane and come home. I’d very much like to see you with my own eyes.”
“Love you, ‘Arry, you know that, yeah? I don’ rightly know what I’d do without you.”
“Likely steal more cars, I presume.” Harry’s dry wit hadn’t been dimmed by the gunshot, it seemed. “I love you too, sweetling. More than anything.”
Eggsy laughed, his ribs definitely telling him to stop, and stood. His legs trembled underneath him as he picked his way back to the plane. He stopped in the hallway where he’d seen Tilde in her cell and clicked back to Merlin’s channel.
“What ‘bout the folks in the cells? We can’ take them all with us.”
“No lad, we can’t. I’ve got the locations of a few high-profile people that we will be taking back with us, your princess included, but the rest will have to wait until Kay gets some planes from Berlin out. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours for them, and we’ll have a holding team here in about 20 minutes to let them out and into the hangar if they wish it, as well as to secure Valentine’s tech. Now listen up and go to these rooms…”
Eggsy nodded, and proceeded to the cells that Merlin mentioned. He got Tilde out first, receiving a peck on the cheek from her and a cold compress for his bruised face that she’d put together once she spotted how rough he looked. By the time he returned to the plane, Eggsy had the Royal Families of the UK and Denmark, as well as Tilde and a few others in tow. The plane was stuffed, but Eggsy made sure everyone got a seat, however tightly packed it might be. Making the Queen tea wasn’t something he’d ever had on his bucket list, per se, but it definitely counted as one of the top ten most exciting things to have ever happened to him.
***
Watching Roxy tackle Merlin and snog him senseless in the middle of a snowdrift on a mountainside while the Queen watched, bemused, was a close second.
***
By the time they reached HQ, Eggsy felt every single blow and bullet intimately. Merlin had given him a painkiller the size of a small nation, and sent him to rest. Roxy stayed in the cockpit with Merlin, her need to be near him overcoming her shock at seeing a group of disheveled, but gratefully alive, royalty. Eggsy took a spot that opened up on one of the bench seats when the Duke of Cambridge went to the WC, and ended up falling asleep with his head on the good Duchess’ lap, her son painting on Eggsy’s cheeks with cold tea and her soft hands carding through his hair. He wakened when they reached a private airfield just south of Scotland, a security force ready to take the Queen and her family to Balmoral.
The other royalty disembarked there as well, each deciding that awaiting representatives of their countries would be more comfortable at the Queen’s residence than on a cramped plane that smelled of gunpowder. Tilde had given Eggsy a long kiss on the cheek and a pinch on the rear as she left, slipping her number into his jacket with a whispered reminder to bring his mate along next time they met. He hadn’t bothered to close the bond, and he felt Harry’s tired amusement at the awkward situation clearly. The trip to Kingsman’s HQ took less than an hour, and Eggsy loped along behind Merlin once they disembarked. Luckily, the Scotsman led Eggsy straight to medical before collapsing into a visitor’s chair nearby, having been up and working as long as Eggsy and Roxy.
Medical was tedious, but Eggsy was grateful for the attention. He shed his suit without a thought for modesty, and two nurses helped him unbuckle and remove the still-bloody wing blades. The muscles in his wings and back protested right up until they were free of the burden, and the knots that had developed from overexerting them twitched in relief. Eggsy was more bruise than skin once they got him down to his pants. The staff was efficient, seating him on some sort of plastic wheelchair that they used to wheel him into a frankly obscene hot shower. They bandaged and stitched, set and wrapped. He had blood blessers on his wings from where the joints of the blades, sized to his taller mate, had rubbed and grabbed at the feathers. His chest was simply purple, with the gash across the front requiring actual staples to keep the skin from splitting back open under the swelling. He looked a right mess and he knew it.
Still, when they got him on a bed and wheeled that into Harry’s recovery room, he sat upright despite the exhaustion and foggy medication they’d forced on him. Harry didn’t look so great himself, his head bandaged thickly and his skin paler than Eggsy thought skin had a right to be. Still, he was alive and awake, one amber eye catching Eggsy’s and a tired smile playing about his lips.
“You look about as good as I feel, darling.”
“Fuck off, ‘Arry.” That earned him a warm laugh from the older man.
“Not that I’d complain, but I rather think we’re both just a bit too overdone for that at the moment.”
It was Eggsy’s turn to laugh, his ribs tweaking under the pressure.
“Shh, love. Just rest. I’ll be here when you wake, and I daresay given how you look, you’ll be in here with me for the duration.”
“M’alright ‘Arry. Just banged up a bit,” slurred Eggsy, the pull of the medication becoming too much.
“Of course you are. Completely baffled as to why I’d think differently.”
Eggsy drifted off, the sound of Harry’s voice and the ever-present thrum of their bond coaxing him into a deeper sleep than he’d had in days. He dreamt of wild things; colors and lights, the glint of Gazelle’s bladed feet as they spun at him, the crackle of the fire in Alain’s fireplace in Paris, the little duckling story. And over it all, he was vaguely aware of the scent of heated cologne and the warmth that only sleeping next to someone else could bring.
Soft murmurs woke Eggsy, his body a single solid ache, and his eyes gritty with too much sleep and not enough water. He started to move and felt the tugging of an IV at the back of his hand. Cracking one heavy eyelid he saw a nearly empty bag of saline on an IV stand next to him. He didn’t recall them giving him an IV before he slept.
“Good afternoon, dear,” Harry said, his voice rough-sounding.
Eggsy used the bed controls to raise himself up, groaning when his abdomen and ribs moved. Still, he preferred to be able to see the world at large rather than the sterile and plain ceiling of the recovery room.
“Time is it?” he managed to get out. His mouth felt like it was covered in sand and poor decisions.
“3 o’clock, or so. You’ve been out for just under 45 hours. When you hit a solid day without waking, they gave you an IV of fluids and nutrients. You’re actually due for another one soon. Can you stand? They were beginning to think you were going to need a catheter, and if you can avoid that unpleasantness, you’ll want to.”
“Mmm. Two days? Anybody call me mum? Or check on JB?”
“Yes to both. Your mother and sister are fine; Roxy made sure JB was well taken care of as well. Your stepfather… well he wasn’t as fortunate. Apparently he happened to be in the middle of some sort of criminal meeting when the signal went out. As best anybody can tell, no one walked out of that alive.” Harry spoke softly, as if talking louder hurt, and drank deeply from a glass of water he held. A half-full water carafe and an extra empty cup sat next to him on the small end table between their beds.
“Damn. Was lookin’ forward to killin’ ‘im myself.”
Despite his flippant tone, Eggsy was floored by the revelation of Dean’s demise. For years he’d anticipated the day when he could give the man everything he’d meted out to Eggsy and his mother. He had fantasies of swooping in like some sort of eleventh-hour savior and putting the man in ground for as long as he could recall. The man who had caused such strife, such pain to his little family was finally gone, the yoke of burden no longer around their necks. But it didn’t quite feel real. Eggsy suspected it wouldn’t for some time. He looked around and saw Harry watching him with a curious expression on his bandaged face.
“Everything alright?” The concern was partially radiating off of the older man, and it prodded Eggsy through the bond, albeit gently.
“Yeah. Just… thinkin’ is all. Spent a dozen years thinkin’ ‘bout all the ways to kill that motherfucker. Thought up near a hundred ways to off ‘im, and ‘is crew. Figured if I were gonna go to jail, it should be for somethin’ like that. Never thought it would be somethin’ like all this mess that got ‘im in the end. Figured it’d be my knife, or mum’s maybe, if ‘e tried to get Daisy or somethin’. Almost don’ seem fair, like all the fuckin’ shite I lived through ‘cause of ‘im were for nothin’.”
“I’d hardly call it ‘for nothing,’ sweetling. It made you kind of man you are today. The kind who loves unconditionally, who guards his heart and his family with equal fervor, but when freely given, is given completely. Look at me for proof. I’ve treated you abysmally since I met you all those years ago, and yet here you are. I’m hardly deserving of that kind of loyalty or love, and yet you’ve given me both.”
“You’re my mate, ‘Arry. That don’ change just ‘cause I might be right pissed at you.”
“Are you? I wouldn’t blame you.”
“‘Onestly, m’too fuckin’ tired to be angry anymore. No point in it. Either I’m a Kingsman or I’m not. Either I’m yours or I’m not. It is what it is.”
“How very French of you. I should send Alain a thank you card,” Harry said drolly.
“Oh, get fucked. Alain’s great. So’s Pellinore,” Eggsy replied, no heat in his tone. He sobered a bit.
“For real though, you doin’ alright? Thought you couldn’ talk.”
“Ah yes. The Americans that picked me up are… rather used to near-resurrections these days, and have acquired some truly interesting methods of ensuring the speedy healing of their staff.”
“So what, they got some kind of tech that can take you from almost dead to practically fine in like, eighteen ‘ours?”
“Something like that, yes. I wasn’t too keen on finding out the specifics given the situation. Merlin and the medical staff here are practically salivating over the thought of getting their hands on some, but those negotiations will have to wait until things have settled down.”
“Christ, ‘Arry. Whatever they got, let’s get some more of it, yeah? I could do with some miraculous fuckin’ ‘ealing right now too!”
“My dear, the very fact that despite your injuries you don’t need their services is something I am very, very grateful for.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the door to their recovery room opening and admitting Merlin, ever-present clipboard at the ready.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Glad to see you awake. Eggsy, any pain? Beyond the general, that is?”
“Nah. Chest aches and itches ‘cause of the staples, ribs ache, but not bad. Nothin’ sharp or shootin’.”
“Excellent. Harry, anything?”
“Not much beyond a headache, and one of the neurological staff was in here an hour ago and declared it in need of some paracetamol and a glass of water.” Harry shook the nearly-empty glass he was holding as if to make his point clearer.
“Throat still giving you trouble?”
“A bit. Dryness, swelling, soreness. Hydration helps, but they tell me it’s mostly just a waiting game until it heals fully.”
“What’s wrong with your throat?” Eggsy asked, reaching for the empty cup on the table. He filled it slowly and drank from it in small sips.
“Part of the process the Americans used on him required intubation, which can be painful if done too quickly or with an incorrectly sized tube.” Merlin shrugged and looked between them.
“Alright. Eggsy, you’ve got two cracked ribs, a badly mangled wing joint, a cracked eye socket, the cut on your chest, several severe hematoma from close-range bullets, and every other bruise on the planet. You’re lucky you didn’t get more. Harry, you’ve got a bloody hole in your head so there’s that. You’ll both be here for at least four more days, though Harry you’re looking at closer to one or two weeks depending on physio and neuro releasing you. You’ve both got mandatory psych evaluations and therapy sessions coming up, so I dinnae suggest trying to escape if you value your service to the organization.”
“Didn’ think I was part of the organization,” said Eggsy quietly, looking at his hands where they clasped his cup.
“Table voted on a probationary period yesterday. You’ve got six months to prove to us you’re knight material, or we shuffle you elsewhere within the organization. Both Pellinore and Alain have said they’d take you on in a heartbeat, so if you’d rather go that route, you’re more than welcome. Might make a good handler, though you’d need to work on your tech services pretty heavily,” Merlin replied neutrally.
Eggsy nodded and bit his lip.
“Give me a couple days to think on it? I like the knight bits, but I gotta think about whether this kind of thing outweighs that,” he said, sweeping a hand over his ravaged body.
“I’d be more worried if you’d said yes right away lad. I dinnae expect any kind of answer until well after you’ve been cleared by psych as it is. If they dinnae clear you, that changes your prospects somewhat.”
“I understand, Merlin. Thanks, for real. S’good to know where I stand and all.”
Harry, who had remained quiet during this exchange finally spoke up.
“Have the final numbers come back from within the organization?”
“Not entirely. America’s still unfucking itself, and Brazil is all but gone. We’ve only had sporadic contact from a few techs there. The rest are in. Looks like discounting America and Brazil, about 25%. The other three-quarters are loyal. We’re going to have to salt-and-burn South America and rebuild from the ground up, unfortunately. The few techs I mentioned have all indicated they’d rather get out, given their injuries and the clusterfuck that was going on before all the world went to Hell.”
Harry nodded as if considering.
“Who’s the new Arthur, Merlin?” asked Eggsy.
“The vote’s not in yet, lad. We’re waiting on two more votes.” With this, Merlin turned the clipboard around and handed it to Eggsy. He then plucked a set of glasses from his breast pocket and placed them on the bed near Eggsy’s side.
Donning them, Eggsy looked at the tablet, seeing what was previously a blank screen become what looked like a ballot with his name on it at the top. There were three other names, each bearing a small box next to them. Galahad, Kay, Percival they read, and Eggsy smiled. Any three of the men would be decent at leadership, but he wanted to talk to the man first. He pushed a tendril of emotion to the other man, question-commitment-decision.
Harry replied almost instantly with a resounding fuckit-whynot.
Eggsy laughed aloud, and tapped the box by Harry’s codename. The ballot popped up a dialog box asking him to confirm the choice with a thumbprint scan, and he obliged. The screen dissolved into the Kingsman logo with a small “Thank you” printed neatly below the circle. Eggsy handed the tablet back to Merlin, mindful of his IV lines. He started to remove the glasses, but Merlin waved him off.
“They’re yours, lad. Keep them.”
“Thanks, guv. ‘Ow’s Rox?”
“No.”
“Merlin. M’not even asking to be cheeky.”
“No.”
“But-“
“No.”
Eggsy groaned and Harry laughed. The younger man huffed and sat back in bed, crossing his arms over his chest, then immediately regretting the decision when it pulled on his wound. He watched Merlin hand the tablet to Harry, who promptly voted and handed it back.
“Alright then, congratulations Harry. Alastair will be thrilled; he was worried he’d get the job and not you.” Merlin reached into his trousers pocket and drew out a cell phone and tossed it to Eggsy. While Eggsy began fiddling with it, a nurse entered and changed his saline bag. The cool rush down the IV line and through his arm felt wonderful, and Eggsy suspected that maybe they’d added a painkiller to the blend. The nurse checked in on Harry while Eggsy and Merlin spoke, and left as quickly as she came.
“It’s Kingsman issue. The rest of your things are going to be delivered to your residence when you get out.”
“Uh, what residence?”
Merlin’s expression seemed to get more withering and he cocked his head.
“Your mate’s house. I’m assuming you’re moving in?”
“We hadn’t exactly discussed things as you well know, you meddlesome bog-trotter,” said Harry. Merlin shot Harry a sarcastic look.
“I don’ mind, but I gotta make sure Daisy is okay. Mum too, if she’s… you know. Aware,” Eggsy finished lamely.
Merlin nodded thoughtfully.
“I assumed as much from what little Roxy has told me and our own records. Traditionally, Kingsman provides a residence for each knight. Since you’re not technically a knight, we cannae just give you a place to call your own yet. However, we’ve several out-of-commission flats used as safe houses that might work temporarily. If you’d rather go through a civilian estate agent or leasing agent, we can help you get that set up as well. You’ve a salary and a bank account with Barclays, though we can change that to Bank of England or somewhere else if you’d prefer. At the moment your family is in your old council flat, though were I you, I’d move them somewhere else. Things have been unstable throughout London, and the rougher areas especially so.”
“Eggsy, bring them to my home for the time being. If we’re not there, they can have run of the place while we recuperate, and we’ll deal with getting housing arrangements made once things settle a bit more. Besides, you can send JB home to them,” Harry said seriously.
“I’d love to, ‘Arry, but mum’s not in a fit state to take care of Dais’ without another adult. Might never be, even if she gets clean. Unless she got sober while I’ve been ‘ere at Kingsman, she’s gonna be getting the shakes and withdrawal pretty bad without Dean there to keep ‘er drugged up. I’d planned on gettin’ ‘er into a facility once I got ‘ome. NHS will pay for some, and I figured I’d be makin’ enough to cover the rest,” Eggsy said bitterly, the thought of his mother’s suffering being prolonged eating at him.
“Who was watching your sister then, lad?” Merlin asked, a note of concern laced deeply through his voice.
“Me mates some, a lady down the ‘all from us some. Dean never really gave a fuck ‘bout Daisy, and ‘is boys wouldn’ care to look in on ‘er, specially not if there’s crime to be done with all the chaos.”
“Right. Call your friends, and we’ll send someone for your sister. She’ll stay here until you get settled. It’s rarely used, but we do have a small creche for agents and staff with children for situations like this very one. I’ll make a call and we’ll see about getting you guardianship pending your mother’s sobriety and psychological readiness. I’ll send Roxy over to take your mother to one of the safe houses I mentioned, get it stocked up, and we’ll get a home nurse to be with her while she detoxes. Hospitals and rehabilitation facilities are going to be swamped, so you might need to wait it out until some time passes. We’ll have to take the nurse’s pay from your salary, though.”
“Not a problem, guv. You can take it all if it gets ‘er out of danger.”
Merlin gave Eggsy a tight smile, already tapping away at his tablet. He wandered back out of the recovery room, leaving Harry and Eggsy to themselves once again.
“Clearly Merlin brought it up before I had the chance to, but I would dearly love it if you stayed with me. I know it’s rather sudden, but I’m an old man; I don’t want to be without you at my side a moment longer.” Harry had turned to face Eggsy, and the small smile he gave the younger man was genuinely lovestruck.
“‘Course I’ll be with you, ‘Arry. Don’ get me wrong, we’re gonna ‘ave words about everythin’ but I ain’t about to lose you just ‘cause I’m mad at you. But if I end up takin’ care of Dais’ she’s part of the package. I can’ leave ‘er behind. I won’t. And If you make me choose between ‘er and you, well….” Eggsy trailed off. He didn’t think Harry was the type of person to make that kind of ultimatum, but it was a large leap from “just met my mate” to “now we have a child to think of.”
“If I were the type of person to ask you to make that choice, I rather think I wouldn’t be your mate,” Harry said pointedly. He cleared his throat and drained his remaining water.
“As it is, I’d be delighted to have your sister with us as long as need be. We’ll need to establish some things with regards to her care when we’re both unavailable, or if we’re indisposed. I’m sincerely hoping your mother gets better, but if she doesn’t we’ll also have long-term care to think of for both her and young Daisy.”
“Yeah. Fuck. I just… I mean I’m glad, yeah? But then I feel fuckin’ awful for bein' glad that someone’s dead, even if it was Dean. Like, I shouldn’t be so ‘appy for someone else’s misfortune, but I don’ know how else to feel.”
“Frankly, I think you feeling anything at all about the bastard is giving him too much of your emotional register. But I’m not the one he hurt,” Harry said ruefully.
“I know. For now, let’s get Merlin’s plan workin’. I think gettin’ mum some ‘elp is a good start, and the fact that they’re gonna let me bring Dais’ ‘round HQ is fuckin’ fantastic.”
“Well it does help that you happen to be on very good terms with the boss, so to speak.”
“Fuck yeah it does,” Eggsy said, the warmth in his voice echoed by the grin on his face.
“Can’ fuckin’ wait to get you back ‘ome with me. Whatever them Americans did, remind me to send a thank-you card, yeah? Dunno what I’d’ve done if you ‘ad died.”
“I’d like to think you’d have carried on, darling. You’re much stronger than I am, than most everyone, no matter what you may have ever been told. To live the life you’ve lived and still remain to optimistic and happy is an incredible thing. That kind of resiliency would have carried you well beyond my death. It will carry you far beyond me one day.”
Harry sounded wistful, but shook his head a bit.
“‘Arry. We’re fuckin’ spies. We could die tomorrow or in forty fuckin’ years. Either way, I don’ want to consider ‘carrying on beyond you.’ It’s not done.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, Eggsy. And I will enjoy every minute of it.”
“Nah, bruv. I’m gonna be the life of you.”
“I rather think you will, darling. I rather think you will.”