Chapter Text
Eggsy missed his dad, sometimes; he was in the army, he was important and had a big job so he wasn’t home very much, and Eggsy really missed him. Really really missed him. And, sometimes, if he thought about his dad really hard (his hugs, his smile, his laugh, the funny shapes he’d make the ice in Eggsy’s water, soap bubbles dancing in the bath) he could see him. His mum said it was special , the way he could see dad- even though dad couldn’t see him. He was like a ghost- the first time he tried to touch his dad his hand went inside like water. It was weird, but it wasn’t scary.
Sometimes, things were scary. Real scary, with noises like fireworks and people yelling and fighting. And sometimes he got to watch his dad laugh with his friends, or play a game. Today, he’s up in the air and his dad is in a room, standing with some other people around a person in a chair. The man in the chair is sitting still, not even shaking his feet, and Eggsy wonders how he’s so still.
‘By the time I’ve counted to ten, you’ll have told me what I need to know. If not, the number ten will be the last thing you hear.’ The man in the chair didn’t move, but Eggsy watched his dad standing next to the one who spoke. ‘One,’ Eggsy heard a crack and the man in the chair started to cry. ‘Two,’ Another, ‘Three,’ The man in the chair screamed without moving his mouth, and Eggsy saw some red on the floor. Where was it coming from? His dad was watching the one talking, and the other people were watching the man in the chair. ‘Four,’ More screaming. ‘Five... Six... Seven...’
Why wasn’t his dad stopping them?
‘Eight-’ The man in the chair took a deep breath, and dad ran toward him while pushing the speaker away.
‘Sir!’ There was a loud bang, a flash of light, and dad fell down. The man who had been speaking moved his hand and the one in the chair fell off.
Neither of them moved, after. Both were covered in red. Why wasn’t he moving?
Eggsy gasped as he landed back in his body, tears drying on his cheeks without really understanding why.
Harry avoided the house for an inordinate amount of time; wandered the neighbourhood, had a pint at the local, and only when he couldn’t avoid it any longer did he go up the stairs and knock at the door. There was a flash of text at the corner of his lens, a long line of laughter, and Harry was barely able to tap out a succinct “fuck you” before the door opened.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ A smiling woman opened the door, a vision of orange, red, and yellow with flowers in her hair and a Water betrothal necklace with a swirling orb at its centre resting against her collarbone.
‘I have news of Lee, ma’am.’ Perhaps it was the tone, the hushed not-quite-whisper, or maybe she could see it in his eyes- but the smile faded to a placid blankness as she gestured inside. He stepped inside, idly taking in the open room with its simple shelves covered in knickknacks- a small cabinet filled with snow globes tucked into a corner with a young boy sat before it. ‘There was a training accident a few days ago, ma’am, and your husband sacrificed himself to save the rest of those present.’
Michelle’s eyes flashed toward her son even as the blood left from her face in a flash, she collapsed to the sofa and covered her face with both hands. Trying to muffle her tears, it seemed, before she pulled them away and revealed only a grim frown and hard eyes despite the tears he could see trying to break free. They escaped not too long after, but Michelle refused to wipe them away, instead clenching her hands into fists on her lap.
‘I’m sorry that your husband’s bravery cannot be publicly celebrated, I hope you understand why that’s the case.’ Harry used every trick he knew to keep himself under control while facing Lee’s widow. She was obviously devastated, and angry, but she kept herself composed but for the flash of her eyes and the tears on her cheeks. Their son sat in the corner with a snow globe in his hands, couldn’t be older than 6, and he kept looking at them. Understandable, he was a stranger in his home and his mother was crying, but he didn’t seem afraid- just curious.
‘I can try- I wish I knew more; I didn’t even know he was so far along in his training.’ At least Lee had had the forethought to tell his wife he was working to rise through the ranks of the White Lotus. A noble venture, if not wholly accurate, that would mitigate a large amount of the blame for his loss. For all their publicity when caretaking for the Avatar, they were still seen as an overall secretive and elite organization. Kingsman capitalised on this often, even using intricately carved pai sho tiles to commemorate loss- like the one he was currently attempting to give to Michelle Unwin.
‘Nonetheless I would like to present you with this,’ Harry lifted the tile, letting the light hit the intricate design before trying to place it into her palm. When she leant away, he tucked it back into his fist before continuing. ‘If you look closely on the back, there’s a number; as a more concrete gesture of our gratitude and sympathies, we’d like to offer you… well, let’s call it a favour. If you call the number on the back, tell the operator “Excalibur.” That will let me know it’s you, and you can request anything you need.’
‘Thank you, but what I need is my husband back- and you can’t do that.’ Michelle snapped, quickly glancing at her son before turning back to glare at Harry. ‘I don’t want no charity, we’ll figure it out.’ She looked away, the dismissal clear in her eyes, but Harry had to do something for Lee’s family. Life in the outskirts of Republic City wasn’t simple or easy, and Harry knew better than most how Air Sensibilities of violence could bring more harm than safety to a home in such a place.
It was an unfortunate side effect of being intimately acquainted with the world at its best and worst- the spaces in between, where people trying to do the right thing were caught in the crosshairs, were depressingly familiar territory. He was doing what he could- he wouldn’t force help where it wasn’t wanted, but that didn’t mean Michelle was the only one he could offer it to.
‘What’s your name, young man?’ Harry knelt down, smiling softly as the boy scrunched his face briefly in confusion. He put the snow globe on the floor and looked up at Harry; or at least it looked as if he was looking at Harry, but a moment after a feather came down from the shelf and tickled Harry’s nose. He sneezed, which made Eggsy giggle, and though he could feel Michelle’s eyes on him he settled more firmly onto the floor in front of the young man.
‘Eggsy.’ His eyes were trained on the feather, his hands following it and tongue barely peeking out from between his lips, and Harry couldn’t help but be charmed. Behind his back Harry flicked open the cap on his water skin belt and pulled out a thin stream, for the moment forgetting his glasses footage and instead focusing his attention on making the boy giggle again. There were worse ways of ensuring his conciliatory gift would be remembered than laughter, and Harry found himself smiling along as young Eggsy pulled the feather this way and that while watching the water chase along with bright eyes.
After a while, Eggsy seemed to deflate a little, feather gently landing in his hand and he looked at it before looking back up at Harry who put his water away with a tilt of his brow.
‘Daddy’s not coming home, is he?’ It was quiet, barely a whisper, and based on Michelle’s lack of reaction she likely hadn’t heard Eggsy ask. Somehow, Harry was grateful.
‘I’m afraid not, this time. I’m sorry.’
‘He saved you?’ Harry couldn’t recall having said as much, but saw no harm in nodding to the boy’s question. He pulled the tile back out from his pocket, rolling it across his fingers before placing it atop the feather in Eggsy’s hand.
‘Can you take care of this, Eggsy?’ Harry made to stand, and paused on one knee, ‘And your mum, too.’
Eggsy nodded, entirely distracted by examining the tile, and Harry smiled once more before standing to his full height and making his way out the door.