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When the lights flickered on revealingly the room on the other side of the one-way mirror, both Eggsy and Merlin couldn’t look away. A man stood using the mirror to shave. Behind him sat a woman legs crossed on the floor, scribbling notes into a book.
“Fuck me,” Eggsy uttered in complete shock.
“Y/N,” Merlin whispered, feeling the air leaving his chest and constricting his breathing.
“So they are yours?” Tequila asked casually.
Eggsy pulled at his restraints, “What are you doing with them?”
“Yeah, they are Kingsman agents.” Merlin interrupted through gritted teeth, still staring intently at you, oblivious to his gaze. He gestured with his chin, unable to point with the restraints they had him under. “That’s Harry Hart. Codename Galahad. And that’s Y/N Mycroft. Codename Niniane,” Merlin paused, heart aching at the sight of you. “My wife.”
After calming everyone down, Ginger explained the situation as best she could: memory loss, but otherwise no additional brain damage, but in need of a stressor to trigger memory restoration. She explained that Harry believed himself to be studying butterflies professionally. You still thought yourself to be in university. And apparently in the process of trying to regain their memories, Statesman had put Harry and you together, hoping you could trigger each other. But it was clear you both had reverted back to a time before you even knew each other, and apparently Harry had recruited you to work as his assistant in his research.
“Hello,” Harry said to the men as they finally entered the room. You looked up from her journaling. You offered them a bright smile, but your eyes made it clear that there was no recognition there.
Eggsy held himself close to Merlin’s side. This was hard for Eggsy, yes, but he couldn’t even imagine what Merlin was going through. His best friend and his wife were both here, alive, after a year of believing his entire life had vanished in a minute, but without any recollection of him. By the look on Merlin’s face, it really was torture.
Merlin immediately walked into the room, ignoring Harry, to stand in front of the woman he loved.
“Hello,” he said, taking your hand in his and gently kissing it, something Eggsy had seen him do a hundred times. What he’d never seen before was you acting the way you were now. You leaned forward, looking down at your shoes, cheeks bright red and heated, completely enamored.
“Hello to you, too,” you said, looking up at the tall man through your lashes. When he kissed your hand once more, you failed to suppress a sigh. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Well, darling,” Hamish said, still caressing the hand he held, “Would you believe me if I said you are my wife?”
You giggled, moving closer to the man in front of you, believing his words to be a flirtatious joke. “I think I’d remember if I were married to such a handsome man as you, don’t you think?” you said with a playful smirk. “Play your cards right and maybe I’ll reconsider the offer in three to five years.”
Merlin couldn’t contain his smile, moving closer to you still. The girl he’d loved for so long was showing herself just as he remembered her all those years ago, playful and adorable, witty and kind. Everything he loved about you was still there. He couldn’t stop himself the simple pleasure of falling in love with you again.
Eggsy stared on in disbelief. He’d never seen such affection between the two of you. You were always so professional in front of others and while it was clear that there was great love shared, anyone with eyes could see that, Eggsy always just assumed that the stoic presentation you both gave was the default in your relationship. Now he could see the raw chemistry and attraction and realized that what you had presented to your fellow agents was an actively restrained version of the kind of love you must have shared at home.
Eggsy observations were interrupted by the man in front of him with outstretched hand.
“Harry,” the man said, meeting Eggsy’s eye.
“Eggsy,” he said, shaking.
“And who’s that trying to seduce my assistant,” Harry added, gesturing to the corner where Merlin had you pinned under his arm, brushing hair out of your face as he spoke to you.
“His name’s Merlin. And I don’t think he’s trying too hard. She looks fairly seduced already,” Eggsy said. And as if on cue you let out a hearty laugh at something Merlin had said, reaching up to play with the sleeve of his suit jacket.
Over the course of the next several days, they tried everything to regain your and Harry’s memories. Reliving your Kingsman training nearly killed both of you. Talking about the lives you lived did nothing by cause confusion and fear. After about a week, options became desperate.
And then Eggsy remembered Mr. Pickle, realizing that the threat to the life of another was a stronger trigger for Harry than threat to his own. Merlin understood and knew what he needed to do for his wife, but already greatly regretted it. He was hoping beyond hope that maybe they could restore just part of your memory and leave other bits behind but that wasn’t going to be the case. So as Eggsy went to get a dog, Hamish went to pick up his own supplied. What he needed, Eggsy didn’t ask.
Upon return, Merlin was carrying flowers and a small blue bag with a white ribbon at the top and appeared to have been crying. Eggsy didn’t press the issue and together they decided to trigger Harry first, the more straightforward of the two scenarios.
After some screaming and confusion, Harry regained himself. He immediately began asking about you, so the three men went to your room. And something in the way Harry grabbed at Eggsy’s arm to hold him back made it clear to Eggsy that whatever was about to happen was something serious, something Harry seemed to feel wrong about having to observe.
“Are you sure you want us to come in with you?” Harry asked his friend.
“I’ll need support, Harry,” was all Merlin said, not even bothering to turn and look at the men behind him.
When they entered the room, you immediately stood and smiled, but when all of them looked at you with serious expression, you backed away scared.
“What’s going on?” you asked, eyes wide, looking only at Hamish as he stood in front of you.
“Darling, you should sit,” he said, stepping towards you and taking your hand to lead you to the bed. “I brought these for you,” he said, handing you the bouquet.
You took a deep whiff of them, happy at the attention but still confused by the pretense.
“These are the same kind you held at our wedding,” he added, reaching into his wallet to pull out a photo. “See?” he asked as he handed it to you.
You laughed as you looked down at the photo, a lovely image of Merlin holding tightly to your waist as you stood in front of him in all white, flowers in your hands and hair. “This looks so real. You really are a wizard, aren’t you?”
Merlin couldn’t find it in himself to correct you. “I am indeed,” he confirmed watching as your fingers continued to trace your form in the photo as though trying to find the source of the magic. Clearly happiness was not going to be a strong enough trigger. Merlin had to move on to stage two but he wasn’t sure if he could.
Merlin looked over to Harry, who’s hand was still on Eggsy’s shoulder. Harry nodded at him as though giving him strength. Merlin nodded in return before putting his attention back on you.
“My love, I’ve also brought you another present,” he said heavily, taking the photo from your hands and handing you the blue bag.
You laughed, bumping your shoulder into him, “You know you really should take me to dinner first before showering me with so many gifts.”
“I’d love to, but first open it, Y/N,” he pleaded. He was already crying but doing his best to suppress it for your sake.
On the other side of the room, Harry’s grip into Eggsy’s shoulder tightened and Eggsy felt the deep exhale that came along with it.
You reached inside and pulled out a tiny light grey footed baby onesie, detailed with a little bear at the pocket. You looked up, confused, first to Merlin, whose tears were falling in earnest now, and then to the men by the door, one white and rigid, the other just as confused as you.
“Hamish, what is this?” you asked, fear present in your tone.
“Where’s the baby, darling?” he asked, not meeting your eyes.
“Baby? What baby?” was all you could reply.
“Where’s the baby, Y/N? Where’s the baby?” he asked again, grabbing your hands and meeting your eyes finally, a completely broken man in front of you.
You pulled away as best you could, holding the infant outfit tight to your chest. “You’re scaring me. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.
“Yes, you do,” Hamish insisted, grabbing your hands again, “Where’s the baby, darling? Tell me.”
You ripped yourself from his grasp, backing into the wall of your room. You were quivering now, confused and afraid as to what sort of sick joke this was, but also because of some strange feeling lurking in the back of your brain that did understand what he was saying but refused to come to the forefront.
Hamish stood and moved towards you, feet tentative and hands raised. “Darling, come to me. It’s okay. I’m here and I’m not mad at you,” Hamish finally reached you and you hesitantly accepted his embrace. He whispered in your ear, “It’s not your fault.”
You looked up into his eyes, and then down at the tiny article of clothing you held, and suddenly it all came flooding back to you. You pushed yourself off him and fell back into the wall and then onto the floor. Your hands clung tightly to your stomach. Images of blood and blinking machines, hospital rooms and frantic nurses filled your mind. This strange man in front of you, your husband you corrected your brain, holding you as you awoke crying asking where the baby was only to be met with blank stares and more tears. The two of you packing up boxes of tiny clothes and toys and hiding them in the garage so you wouldn’t have to look on them. Nights in bed sobbing as he stroked your hair and told you again and again that you aren’t to blame for any of this.
You struggled to breath as you clung closely to the clothes in front of you. “I lost the baby,” you said under your breath before turning your tear-filled eyes up to your husband. “I lost him, Hamish. I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” you said through sobs.
Your husband immediately fell to the floor and wrapped you in his arms. He hushed you as his grip tightened around you. “I’m sorry I had to make you remember,” he whispered, “I never wanted you to have to relive this pain.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you kept saying to him, clinging to the lapel of his jacket, tears pressing into all of his clothes.
“You have no reason to be sorry. You did nothing wrong. I love you. I always love you,” he said, covering your head with kisses and rocking you back and forth.
“But I killed our baby,” you shrieked, unable to control your emotions anymore. Your tears were causing your whole body to quake against him. Almost inhuman wails escaped your lips, the pain so raw and present that you were sure it would kill you too.
But you husband just held you close, caressing your head and back, promising you he loved you and that he would not allow you to hold on to any blame.
As you both sat crumbled in each other on the floor, you looked up over Merlin’s shoulder to see Harry still gripping Eggsy, trying his best to steel himself against your anguished tears, and Eggsy looking on in horror.
At your gaze, Harry turned and pulled Eggsy out the door.
Once outside, the sounds of your joint crying muffled, Eggsy finally got the courage to speak. “Are they going to be okay?” he asked Harry, still in shock that he had been so unaware of the kind of loss you both had handled. You always seemed so collected and serious. He felt stupid for not realizing how much he didn’t see.
“They will be. They have each other, and they decided a long time ago that that was more than enough.”