Lagavulin and Guinness

“What are you talking about, Eggsy?” Harry didn’t twitch with shock, or even widen his eyes. He just steadily looked at Eggsy. That could mean a lot of things – maybe he hadn’t thought Eggsy would figure out it, maybe he was deliberately not reacting, maybe he was actually innocent.

Fucking spies.

Eggsy had been around Harry long enough to make an educated guess – he was probably deliberately not reacting. "Don’t play fucking stupid,” said Eggsy. He made to stand up, but discovered that the blankets were well and truly tangled around him. “I ain’t stupid, don’t fucking treat me like I’m stupid.”

“Okay,” said Harry, slightly placating. Eggsy hated being placated. He wasn’t some wounded animal about to bite – he had valid reasons for feeling the way he did. “Eggsy, you need to calm down.”

Eggsy’s temper hit the roof. Of all the condescending, patronizing things to say… As if Eggsy demanding Harry treat him as an equal was tantamount to hysteria. Eggsy had a brief stab of regret for all the times he had told his mum to calm down when she wasn’t actually upset.

“Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t fucking tell me to calm down.” He knew, theoretically, that starting to raise his voice probably wasn’t the best evidence of a cool mind, but. But. Fucking Harry.

Eggsy dragged in a breath. He could feel his lungs expand, and he imagined that he could feel his heart beating against his ribcage. It was working powerfully. He was hyper-aware of everything, of the steady ticking of the clock on Harry’s mantle, of the barking of a dog somewhere outside, of the slightly stale air inside Harry’s house that suggested Harry probably wasn’t in his house often. It didn’t have a proper chance to air out. The staleness felt itchy on Eggsy’s skin.

Eggsy wasn’t sure if the hyper-awareness was because he was confronting Harry, or if it was because he had just a panic attack/breakdown/something, but the minutiae of the environment seemed so clear-cut. Like 20/40 vision.

For a long moment, he struggled with the blankets, because now they felt confining. He nearly tore some of the threads, and there came a point where he just started futilely trying to wiggle out of them. Harry was giving him a look like he feared for his sanity. When Harry reached out to try and help him, Eggsy flapped his hand at him, ridiculously angry and not entirely sure how to justify it. There was no confession, no hard evidence yet. They hadn’t really even started the conversation.

“Eggsy…”

“Don’t sit there and fucking lie to me, either. You think I don’t fucking know? Jesus fucking Christ, Harry.”

Harry remained seated as Eggsy finally extricated himself from the blankets. He stood up, crossing his arms defensively, ignoring the fact that now he felt a little cold.

Towering above Harry should have made Eggsy feel stronger, but Eggsy was abundantly conscious of the fact that Harry was dangerous in every way possible. He looked sedate right now – he hadn’t even closed his book, instead absentmindedly thumbing through the sheaves while he stared up at Eggsy. But despite the relaxed quality of his stance, there was darkness hidden in the lines of his body, in the cords of his muscles. It was lurking there in the quirk of his lip and the shadows of his eyes. It was like looking at a magazine model; glossy and beautiful on the outside, but the reality was that it was photo shopped to trick the audience.

Before him sat Harry Hart: the man who saw potential in him when no one else did, who wrapped Eggsy up in blankets and made him breakfast. He loved onions and hated yams and did his best not to make faces when drinking Eggsy’s tea. He was obsessed with oral hygiene and silently judged Eggsy if he forgot to brush at night. He also liked to curl around Eggsy in bed after hard missions, like a Harry-blanket, until Eggsy had to nudge him away because he got too hot.

He was also the man who carried the ability to slaughter an entire church filled to the brim with people, who was so attached to his dog that he had him stuffed and displayed, and carried enough cruelty to say, “You should be” to heartfelt bathroom apologies.

This was Harry Hart. And Eggsy, despite all warnings, had underestimated him.

“What do you want from me?” asked Harry, quietly.

“A fucking explanation.”

“About what?”

Eggsy dragged in another deep breath. It didn’t help. “As we ran through the mansion, you told me that Roxy had been hurt in a toilet. You knew all about Bedivere. You knew the tech room were overrun. You knew all of it, Harry. Every fucking thing. And you said Merlin told you.

“But, when I was in the medical wing, Merlin said all the techs, himself included, was hit by that gas and then tied up. When did Merlin tell you, eh, Harry? When the fuck did Merlin tell you?”

Harry’s eyes went simultaneously hooded and bright, with a certain clench to his jaw.

“Oh, you didn’t expect me to make the connection,” said Eggsy. He could feel an ugly expression steal across his face. A slightly hysterical laugh came out of his mouth; it didn’t sound like a laugh Eggsy had ever made before. His world still felt hyper-sensitive, but now with a topsy-turvy element thrown in. It was confirmed. Eggsy had been doing his best to deny, to not think, but… “It all fits, don’t it? Don’t no one know how Roxy went down, but a senior agent could’ve easily taken her out when she weren’t expecting it. How did they get inside without nobody noticing to throw those canisters? Because they had someone on the inside. They had you.

“The attackers didn’t think the candidates was a threat. That’s because you told Diane they wasn’t. You literally told her, and then, to thwart Diane, you used what you knew to be her weakness. And you didn’t want anyone to suspect you, so you made sure you got knocked out during the fight. They didn’t even tie you up. They didn’t even bother to fucking tie you up, one of the most dangerous agents in the organization.

“And don’t get me started on Tristan. Tristan, who’s so fucking scared of you that you made him design a special fucking gas for this, and then lie when asked about it. Cor, I feel so fucking bad for him, I couldn’t even look him in the face.”

Eggsy realized he was breathing hard. He wasn’t close to a panic attack, not really, but there was something wrong with his breathing.

Shit. Maybe he was close to a panic attack.

“All that’s left,” said Eggsy, “is the why. Why, Harry? Why the fuck did you do this?”

“Believe it or not,” said Harry, lightly, delicately, a stark contrast to Eggsy (but that clench to his jaw revealed his tension), “it was for you.”

“What the fuck.”

“I do not like Victoria Willoughby,” said Harry. “I wanted her gone. I already had plans in play to get rid of her… and then I found out about her actions toward you. Thus, it became apparent that I needed to get rid of her quicker.”

“Jesus.”

“So my plans were moved up slightly. I wasn’t the leak in the beginning. Not even close.” Harry shrugged, an elegant motion that complemented the fit of his suit. “That really was Chester King. But, when I found out about what Victoria said to you… It changed things.

“We needed more witnesses of her depravity. Not just agents annoyed at the way she ran meetings: something that suggested corruption, that gave us more meat to our accusations. Something prosecutable. She needed to accost you in public. That way, even if we brought it before a board and they dismissed the claims – which would be unlikely – public opinion would sour against her. A popularity contest between you and Victoria? Easy. People would flock to your side, and demonize her to the point that she would no longer wish to work at Kingsman.

“Victoria Willoughby is a predictable human being. I knew, with just the right push, that she would happily deride you in public. I’ve seen her do something like it before. But it needed to be the right push. And what better than to have her attacked on her home turf? Right in her office? With her humiliated in front of her organization, shaken from the bloodbath in front of her…”

“You couldn’t have guessed that it would turn out the way it did. What if I hadn’t taken out those forty men? What if it had gone wrong?”

“If it had gone wrong,” said Harry, “there still would’ve been an inquiry on how they got into the mansion. She would have been forced to show us those missions dealing with the leak, and it would’ve been discovered. It wasn’t going to fail. I thought of all contingencies. We would not have lost.”

Eggsy let out something between an angry snort and a distressed whine. “You can’t – that’s not – fuck, Harry, I tortured somebody. I tortured Diane. In front of Roxy. In front of everybody.”

“Yes,” said Harry, almost carelessly, “and I shot her in the head.”

“Fuck.”

“Eggsy, you blew up the heads of hundreds of world leaders. What makes Diane different? Because you have a face to the name? Because you liked her? Because you slept with her? She was building an empire. If we had left her for a couple of years, she would have built something stronger than her brother. She would be killing people, too, for a lot less reason than Kingsmen agents. What’s the line separating her and a world leader who was blackmailed into following Valentine? What gives her life weight over Valentine himself? Valentine may have had more reach, but they both ached for control.”

Harry smiled, a slow, dangerous smile. “Is it that you’ve been writing off blowing up their heads? It was a necessity, an adrenaline-fueled decision that was a last resort for a man about to die? Perhaps you’ve been justifying it by saying Merlin pushed the button, not you, and that somehow absolves it from your conscious.”

Harry reached up and ran a hand over his hair, checking the styling. Even now, in this tense moment, he was ultra-aware of his appearance. “My point, Eggsy, is not to bog you down with a moral dilemma – though the nature of our work is a moral dilemma. It’s to say that you can’t really stand there in judgment of me when your hands haven’t sparkled since you picked up the first drug packet.”

“There’s a difference between killing someone like Valentine to save the world and manipulating a woman into invading our organization and putting every employee at risk,” said Eggsy through gritted teeth.

“Explain the difference, Eggsy. Because the way I see it, Diane was going to eventually need taken out anyway. I simply maneuvered it in a way that solved another problem along with it.”

“All of those men Diane hired. Some of them were innocent, Harry. Some of them were just doing it for the money, for their families.”

“And some world leaders were just doing it for their country, or to make sure they survived into the new world to instill some morals into it.” The smile hadn’t left Harry’s face. “The parallels are quite interesting, if you really want to take a look.”

“I didn’t engineer Valentine’s plot!”

“No. But you did benefit from it. You’re an agent.”

“I wasn’t doing it to become an agent!” Eggsy flexed his fingers, because he had been gripping his hands so tightly into fists that his nails had started pricking into the flesh of his palm. Harry just tilted his head, like he acknowledged that point, but that his prior points still stood. That fucking bastard.

Eggsy didn’t want to get into a moral argument with Harry. He had a feeling neither of them would come out the better for it. Instead, casting about for anything to get them on a different track, he said, “How did you even get Diane to agree to it?”

“Diane was easy to ensnare,” said Harry. He was leaning back on the couch, having barely even adjusted throughout the entire conversation. The casual disregard, the carelessness, yet the keen intelligence… If Eggsy didn’t know better, he would call Harry a villain. “She was so desperate to make a name that she jumped on the chance.”

“You’re so fucked up in the head, Harry, you’re just so fucked up.”

“I resent that,” said Harry, almost playfully, and Eggsy wanted to punch him in the face for not taking this seriously.

“You betrayed the entire organization!”

“Don’t be dramatic,” said Harry. “I betrayed Victoria. I don’t have your morals, Eggsy. I do have loyalty to Kingsman, which is why I cleaned up the loose ends. But Victoria? She never stood a chance.”

“You – you – I can’t believe… This is… Harry, fuck.”

“Eggsy,” said Harry, finally taking on a bit of a more serious expression. “I had it under control. I knew exactly what was going to happen, and it occurred just like I predicted. And all is well now. Victoria is no longer Arthur. You’ll have a codename. Security will be beefed up in the mansion.”

“All is well? What about Diane, huh? I liked her, Harry.”

Harry cocked his head, like he hadn’t considered that. “She was an unfortunate necessity.”

“An unfortunate - Harry, you’re playing with human life here!”

“I don’t care about her life,” said Harry, quietly. He dog-eared the page he was on in his book and set it aside, straightening out his cuffs in the process. “I care about your life, Eggsy.”

“You don’t care about her life. You don’t care about her life. You don’t… Why are you an agent, Harry, if not to save people?”

“Eggsy, don’t mistake me for philanthropist,” said Harry. “I enjoy this job. I love the adrenaline, the ability to make a tangible change in this world. To make sure this world survives. And I value human life. But I’ve been in this business long enough to understand when I need to cut my losses to achieve a larger goal.”

Eggsy let out a disbelieving huff of air. He tried to come up with a response, but only let out another puff of air. Finally, after several moments, he managed, “I thought gentlemen were supposed to have manners. I don’t think it’s very polite to shoot someone in the head to get another person fired.”

A smile curled the edges of Harry’s mouth. “A gentleman tries to make the best of a bad situation.”

“Do you have an answer for everything?”

“Probably.”

Eggsy ran a hand through his hair. The product he had put in it that morning was still holding, but he jammed his hand through it anyway, thoroughly mussing it up. He could only imagine what it looked like – it was probably standing straight up, like he got hit by lightning. He didn’t care.

The problem – the serious problem – was that Eggsy couldn’t actually fault Harry’s logic here. Okay, betraying Kingsman was bad. But, if you looked through the fucked-up lens Harry was using, he really didn’t betray the organization or what it stood for. He just used privileged information to take out a future target, while also toppling an incompetent leader.

And Diane… Eggsy closed his eyes. He could still remember, even with the foggy edges that always accompanied his disassociated moments, the ‘splurting’ sound that Diane’s blood made as it started dribbling out of her newly-shattered knees. But he also remembered pointing a gun at Timothy Yates’s head and mercy-killing him in front of his shrieking sister without feeling a shred of remorse. There was a difference – there had to be - but for the life of him the only difference Eggsy could come up with was the intentions behind the killing.

Harry was right. What did that mean for him? For Eggsy Unwin, who had blown up hundreds of heads not with the intention of saving the world, but because he was pinned in a corner and it was kill or be killed. He poisoned Chester King, not with noble intentions – he hadn’t even been an agent then – but because he knew King was working with Valentine, and apparently that qualified him for execution.

What did that say about Eggsy’s morals? The man who had once winced as he fished the card out of King’s neck, but stepped over headless bodies without sparing a thought for the un-chipped family members they must have had at home?

And all Eggsy could come up with was Merlin’s statement:

“You have high emotional intelligence. You love animals. And you connect well with children. Anything innocent, you have no problem defending. We’ll run into a problem if, during a mission, you need to endanger any one of those groups. However, you don’t view human beings as innocent in general. A result of your upbringing, I assume. You empathize, and you empathize well, but you also have amazing powers of disassociation. You can compartmentalize, and, in doing so, you can torture a person.”

Perhaps Eggsy and Harry shared the same view: both of them had seen too much of the dirty side of humanity to view humans as generally innocent anymore. Maybe Eggsy would still wince if Daisy bled. But the Eggsy now was different from the Eggsy-in-training. What little benefit of the doubt he had once granted to humans was erased when he pulled that chip out of Chester King’s neck. No more wincing after that.

But…

Eggsy and Harry were still different people. Eggsy still viewed the manipulation as wrong. Given time, he was sure he could come up with a tangible reason. But for now, his gut told him that the situation was wrong.

Or… or maybe something else was bothering him.

“And what if you do this again? Huh? Were you ever even planning on telling me?” said Eggsy, trying to even out his voice.

“No. But would you have told me?”

“I never would have done this in the first place!”

For the first time, frustration stole into Harry’s expression. “We have such different morals, you and I. Fine. If I have a plan in the future, I promise to let you in on it.”

Eggsy stared at Harry, disbelieving. He barked out a laugh. “No, you’ll only tell me if it’s convenient. You manipulative fucker, you stupid fucking arsehole.”

“Eggsy, calm down –”

“I AIN’T A FUCKING PAWN!” Eggsy didn’t know when he started shouting, but if felt right. Like it was making the breath in his body align correctly. “I AIN’T A FUCKING TOY! You don’t own me! I can’t be controlled, and I ain’t someone you can beat into submission!”

It wasn’t really a conscious thought, but when he put his foot through Harry’s telly, the wires sparking and dying, it felt right. Just as it felt right to start smashing other things; the lamp, this ugly decorative vase Harry had, a small statuette of a cow that Eggsy had always wondered about but had never asked. He stormed into the dining room, Harry’s dark eyes following him.

He smashed the container of alcohol on the side table. On the square table itself there was a bottle of Lagavulin left carelessly, like Harry had been indulging. When, Eggsy had no idea, but he had found that Harry drank at odd times. The Lagavulin went down, the amber-colored liquid splashing and spreading onto the carpet. The random thought – were Lagavulin stains easily removed? – pierced through the fog in his mind but was rapidly discarded.

He started trying to destroy one of Harry’s fancy dining room chairs, which turned out to be exponentially heavier than he expected. He repeatedly slammed it into the floor, but nothing seemed to happen to it. This got him angrier, and next thing he knew, several long minutes had been spent trying to destroy the fucking chair. By the end of it he was swearing mightily, only one of the legs were bent at a slightly weird angle, and the thing still stood, albeit wobbly.

He whirled around to face Harry. Harry was leaning against the doorway, his face carefully blank. Eggsy pointed a finger at him. “You need new dining room chairs!”

“Excuse me for not buying the breakable ones.”

“Fuck you!” Eggsy kicked the chair but only succeeded in stubbing his toe. He let out another string of swears and finally subsided, feeling kind of ridiculous now. The chair had robbed him of his desire to destroy.

“Are you quite finished?”

“No,” snarled Eggsy. He may have run out of steam to destroy things, but his anger at Harry still burned.

He moved toward Harry rapidly. Harry fell back, instinctively, into a fighting stance, but Eggsy ignored that and instead got right up in Harry’s face.

“You ain’t my savior,” said Eggsy. “You helped me and mentored me, but the saving part? I did all that myself. I don’t owe you shit.

“We’re on equal grounds, as far as I’m concerned. So, as an equal partner, I got this to say. You ever fucking hit me again, you even start to raise a fist to me in a way that ain’t practice sparring, then we’re going to have a huge fucking problem. I don’t want my boyfriend choking me. It ain’t going to happen.

“Drugging me, hurting me, all of that shit… It ain’t right, Harry. It ain’t fucking right. And I may be like my mum, but I’ve got a lot of my dad in me, too. And you know what? It wouldn’t matter if I were all my mum, because she’s got a lot of good parts to her, too.”

Eggsy stopped for a moment, trying to remember his point. Then he continued, “Yeah, it ain’t right. And you know fucking what? Let’s face it, here – I could do better than you. There’s a reason you’re over fifty and unattached, and it’s not because you’re picky. It’s because you’re fucking impossible. Impossible. But, for some dumbarse reason, don’t ask me why, I still like you. I more than like you. God, if I knew a fucking thing about love, I might even call it that.

“I wanna be with you, Harry. But not if you hurt me. Because…”

Eggsy dragged in another breath, and was startled to discover he was getting perilously close to tears. He took another deep breath, clamping down on the impulse.

“Because I deserve Lee, not Dean,” he said.

Harry just looked at him. Eggsy didn’t back up. Neither did Harry.

“I deserve Lee,” said Eggsy, and it might have been the most freeing statement he had ever said. It was symbolic in so many important ways.

But, perhaps most importantly, it said exactly what it needed to: whatever had happened in his life, whatever he had gone through, whatever he had done to get to the place he was in… none of that disqualified him from a healthy relationship. Making mistakes in his life didn’t automatically put him into a pool of people who weren’t worthy. And, even if he had picked from such a pool before, that didn’t mean he had to again.

He was Eggsy Unwin. Eggsy Unwin. He wanted someone who would kick him out of bed because they were concerned about his smoking habit, but join him on the couch later. No, no, not want – he deserved.

He deserved someone in his life selfless enough to throw themselves on a grenade for him.

And – holy fucking shit – he had people who were that selfless. He had Ryan, and Jamal, and Roxy and Gawain and Kathy and Kay. Salomea and Jeeves and Ruby might, too. He had people in his life who cared. What did he need Harry for?

Except…

Except – and he couldn’t explain it – he wanted Harry in his life, so fucking bad, like Harry was his oxygen.

“I deserve Lee,” he said, slowly, and then repeated it, “I deserve Lee.”

“I’m not Lee,” said Harry.

“You’re not Dean either.”

Harry tilted his head. “I… I’m not sure what you want me to say here, Eggsy.”

“I don’t know, either,” said Eggsy. “I just… I just don’t know, Harry. Everything is so fucked up.”

There was a ringing silence for a few moments. Eggsy could hear the telly in the other room sparking. He couldn’t bring himself to actually care about it, though he sincerely hoped it didn’t set the whole place on fire.

Harry reached out and placed his hand in the crease of Eggsy’s elbow, cautiously, like he thought it might be rejected. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Like I was intentionally hurting you. I thought…” For the first time – perhaps the last – Eggsy saw Harry look unsure. “I’m used to people being unconcerned about occasional physical force. I didn’t think I was really harming you.”

“I know,” said Eggsy. He let out a deep whoosh of air, and it felt like a lot of problems escaped with it. “I know. We’re both spies and you thought I could handle it. But I shouldn’t have to.”

Harry nodded. He looked thoughtful, like he hadn’t expected this to happen. “Where to from here, Eggsy?”

“I… don’t know. I gotta think about it, Harry. I need some space.”

Eggsy deliberately didn’t let himself look around at the mess he had made of Harry’s house. He didn’t want to feel guilty over it. Instead, he let himself out.

He wasn’t quite sure where to go. He thought about just going back to his flat, since that’s where Daisy was and she never failed to calm him down, but he was so antsy and anxious and he didn’t want her to see him like that. Roxy’s flat was too far away to comfortably go to, and he didn’t want to visit Ryan in the hospital and stress him out. It was a toss-up whether Jamal would even be home or at work.

How he found himself at Gawain’s doorstep he wasn’t quite sure, but he lifted up his fist and knocked all the same. It was rather late – it was nearing one in the morning, Jesus Christ he didn’t realize it was that bad. He must have lost more time than he thought.

For a moment, he cast about in a panic, wildly thinking he should jump into the bushes and hide. He wasn’t sure what to say when they opened the door, or even if he had a good reason for being there.

His decision was made for him when the window near the door opened. “Hello, Eggsy dear!” said Kathy. She wasn’t wearing any make-up and her hair was in curlers, which Eggsy hadn’t realized that people still used these days. He thought that was just a 70’s-thing.

“Um, hi,” said Eggsy, thrown off that she hadn’t answered the door.

“Just give me a moment to undo the alarms,” she said. “I didn’t want you thinking we weren’t coming to the door. They just take forever to deactivate; I keep telling Howard they aren’t necessary but then he starts yammering about ‘danger’ and ‘want to protect you’ and I practically fall asleep. You can’t win an argument if you’re asleep for it, dear.”

“Why can you open the window and not the door?”

“I don’t understand these systems either, dear.”

Eggsy laughed as the door was finally yanked open. Gawain was standing there in his shorts, sleep lines on his face but his eyes alert.

“Trouble?” he asked.

“Not really.”

“Ah,” he said, understanding. “Come in. I’ll make you some tea.”

Gawain led him into the kitchen, where he ushered Eggsy into a seat. He began to bustle around the kitchen, opening up cabinets. By the fourth cabinet he was visibly frustrated. “Kathy! Where’s the –”

Kathy popped her head into the room. “It’s in the cabinet above the coffeemaker.”

Gawain opened up the aforementioned cabinet and found the electric kettle. “Ah. Thank you.”

“Lucy keeps moving it about,” said Kathy. Eggsy supposed that was their daughter’s name. “I always tell her to put it in the cabinet by the tea leaves, but she never listens.”

“She gets that from you.”

“Oh!” said Kathy, crossing her arms. “This, coming from the man who has to have me write everything down because he can’t be bothered to remember when I first tell him.”

Gawain looked tired. “Is this about the soap again?”

Kathy’s hissed. “No, it definitely wasn’t, but now that you mention it…”

Eggsy coughed subtly.

It was like a switch flipped. Kathy gave him a bright smile (slanting one last narrow-eyed glare at Gawain). She turned to Eggsy and revealed a comfy-looking fleece blanket, which she began to wind around Eggsy.

“I’m not that cold,” Eggsy protested.

“Nonsense, you’re shivering.”

“I am? Oh… I guess I am.”

“No tea!” Kathy ordered. “Make him some hot chocolate.”

“Either is fine, really, I’m not picky.”

“Hot chocolate,” Kathy reiterated. “I’m going to go to the next room to watch some telly and give you two some time alone.”

Gawain gusted out a sigh. “Kathy, please don’t watch porn while we have a guest over.”

“I would never.” She firmly shut the kitchen door behind her, probably so they couldn’t hear the noises from the telly.

“Is she really going to watch porn?” asked Eggsy.

“She says she finds the storylines fascinating,” said Gawain with the air of a man who had given up on hope.

“There are storylines?”

“Apparently. And she says that she likes that there’s always a happy ending.”

“Gawain.”

“I know.”

“She’s a real firecracker, that one.”

“You become a lot less fond of it when you live with it,” said Gawain, finally plunking a mug of hot chocolate in front of him.

Eggsy raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me you’re getting tired of Kathy?”

Gawain took a sip. “No. The novelty has just worn off.”

“Novelty?”

“The new-love feel. Now we’re just left with love and each other. Scary thought.”

“But you seem to worship Kathy.”

“That’s because she’s the best person in the world,” said Gawain, looking very serious. “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

“But…” said Eggsy, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “But don’t you do a lot of honeypot missions? How does that affect things?”

“It doesn’t really,” said Gawain, lifting up one elegant shoulder. Even in shorts – which, now that Eggsy was paying attention, had cartoon pandas on them – Gawain had more class and grace than Eggsy could ever manage in a full suit. “I sleep with the women and then I come back to the one that matters. It’s a bit boring, honestly, having sex on a honeypot mission. None of them can compare.”

“It’s never fun for you?”

“Oh, it can be fun, sure,” said Gawain. “Not going to deny that. But every time I sleep with one of them I’m just reminded of how much better Kathy is. She’s the type of woman you don’t forget. I wouldn’t be able to tell you the number of missions I’ve fucked up because I accidentally yelled out her name instead of my target’s.”

“And Kathy’s okay with it?”

“Kathy is a confident woman. She knows she’s the best.”

“But… I mean, c’mon. Doesn’t she get even a little insecure about it?”

Gawain mouth twitched into a smile. He set down his mug on the table. “Eggsy, let me tell you a story about Kathy. I met her in high school, long before I became a Kingsman. I asked her to go to a movie with me and she told me that I didn’t bathe enough for her to consider it.”

Gawain was silent for a moment before guiltily admitting, “I only showered once every few days, I suppose I did get a little smelly sometimes. I always felt too busy to shower.”

“Gross, mate.”

“Anyway. I told her if she wasn’t going to date me, then we were at least going to be friends. She told me that she didn’t agree to that, and that it would be a non-consensual friendship, and did I really want that on my conscious? And I realized that no, I didn’t want that on my conscious. I didn’t want to do anything that would make her uncomfortable or sad. I wanted her to be happy. So I told her I understood and let her be.”

“You… let her be?”

“What was I supposed to do? Stalk her until she agreed?”

“Uh, I guess not. So… how did you guys get together then?”

“She rear-ended my car,” said Gawain. “And when she got out of hers she was furious. Told me that I was driving like an absolute dick. I really wasn’t, but I was so scared of her that I apologized. I saw her the next day in school. For a reason she still hasn’t explained to me, she asked me out. She took me to a seafood place that was so messy that our meals came with bibs. We spent the entire time making fun of each other and laughing. Afterward, she drove me home – her driving is the worst, I thought I was going to die the whole way – and she let me know that we were going to go on a second date.”

“So… what happened then?” Eggsy asked when it became apparent that Gawain was lost in his memories.

“Well,” shrugged Gawain, “how can you not fall in love with a woman like that?”

Eggsy wanted to point out that Kathy was clearly a little mental, but he didn’t think Gawain would appreciate that. So he nodded instead.

“My point, Eggsy, is that there comes a point in every relationship where you need to make a decision whether or not you can trust each other. For whatever crazy reason, she decided to trust me that day and invited me out, even though she had rejected me before. She took a chance on me. And now here we are. Six children in and talking about getting a pet monkey.” Gawain looked pained again, like this was some sort of daily discussion that he was slowly but surely losing.

“Is that… legal?”

Gawain sighed. “Does it matter?”

Eggsy realized he was out of hot chocolate; he nudged the cup slyly towards Gawain, who took the hint and poured him another cup.

“I don’t understand Kathy. I don’t even pretend to. But we both took chances on each other. We’ve taken a million chances on each other since.”

“But what if you take a chance on someone and they let you down?”

“Well, it depends on what they did,” said Gawain. “How much it upset you. If trust was broken. You gotta evaluate where to go from there, if you want to take another chance. And keep in mind – you’re never perfect in any relationship, either. Maybe you’ve already used up a few chances yourself.”

“Huh.”

“That help any?”

“A little. I guess.”

“What did Harry do?”

Eggsy hesitated, then lied. “Nothing, really. I’m stressing over nothing.”

“Sounds like a lie if I’ve ever heard it,” said Gawain, yawning a little and stretching.

“Did I wake you two up?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Gawain. “We’re used to keeping odd hours.”

Which seemed like a bit of a lie itself. Gawain was clearly too polite to just say yes.

“When I look back on my time with Kathy,” said Gawain, quietly, like he was revealing a great secret, “all I can think of is laughter. We just… We have so much fun together. She never does what I expect her to. And I don’t pretend to understand why she likes me. I’m not a complex guy. Yet, even then, I just remember the first time I introduced her to my parents. She arrived on my doorstep in this ridiculous pink and chartreuse dress – not her style, not even close, but it was the only thing formal enough that she owned – and it was clear that she had spent hours trying to get everything right. I hated it. I wanted to mess up her hair and smudge off the heavy make-up and offer her a pair of my most ragged jeans. But my parents were traditional people.”

Gawain was silent for long seconds, absentmindedly blowing on his hot chocolate and staring with unseeing eyes at the wall.

He continued, “My parents asked her about her goals and aspirations. She said she loved children and planned on being a teacher. My mother’s nose wrinkled so hard that it looked like a pig’s. My father kept looking at me, like this were some sort of joke. Kathy had this sad sheen to her face, like she knew this was crashing and she was scared she was going to lose me forever.

“Then, my mother goes, ‘Well, our Howard here is so accomplished. He’ll do great things. Perhaps take over our estate, or invest in property.’ My mother only listed those things because she couldn’t very well say, ‘Oh, yes, we’re putting our son up for the slaughter in a spy program.’ But Kathy didn’t know that. And she just looked at my mother, so deadpan, and said, ‘I think Howard’s greatest accomplishment is that time I watched him puke on your purple Louis Vuitton heels after Georgie Stifles talked him into doing the beer bong twice. I was so proud of him when, instead of owning up to the crime, he grabbed your shoes and hid them in the front bushes. They’re still there. I checked before coming in, because anyone with puked-on shoes in bushes just aren’t scary. And, with all due respect, ma’am, even thinking that as his greatest accomplishment, I still think he can change the world, which seems to be quite different than what you see for him.’”

Eggsy made a choking-laugh sound. The story, which had started out so serious, had taken a rather drastic turn.

Gawain shrugged, a little sheepish this time. “I’m not a complex guy. But if this woman thought I could change the world? Marriage was inevitable.”

“Gawain. You two are just…” Eggsy shook his head and tried to find the words.

Gawain nodded seriously. “You can call me Howard.” He stifled another yawn.

“Okay. Howard.” Eggsy tested it on his tongue. It felt right and gave him a proud, glowy feeling. It felt like he had earned the honor. “I should probably get going,” said Eggsy, feeling a little guilty about the hour.

“Hold on, let me grab Kathy so she can say bye,” said Howard. “She probably fell asleep watching her porn.”

Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh as Howard popped his head into the other room. He came back with Kathy, who was trying to smother a yawn by covering it with her hand.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, clinching her robe a little tighter about her waist.

“Yeah, it’s late,” said Eggsy, standing up and smiling at Kathy.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you can have our guest room. I’m not letting you walk home at this hour.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, really,” said Eggsy as Kathy began shooing him toward the stairs. “Kathy, seriously, I’ll be fine, you don’t have to put me up.”

Kathy ignored him and began poking him in the back until he finally acquiesced and started heading up the stairs. Next thing he knew, he was firmly bundled into their guest bedroom. Kathy was clucking her tongue while she tucked him into bed – literally, she was tucking him, a grown man, into bed.

Howard lurked in the doorway while Kathy fluffed Eggsy’s pillows. “Now, you stay as long as you want. Don’t feel like you have to get out as soon as morning hits. And if you get cold, we do have extra blankets in the closet. I already showed you where the toilet is, and the towels if you want a shower in the morning. Do you want a glass of water? Of course you do – Howard, could you grab Eggsy a glass of water?”

Snorting, Howard said, “I think he’ll be okay, Kathy.”

Kathy patted Eggsy’s cheek (one of the only things visible from where she had burritoed him). “Don’t worry about Howard, dear. He just doesn’t understand social conventions.”

Kathy bustled around the room for a few more moments, chatting idly. Howard shrugged at Eggsy’s pleading look and said, “I’m sorry, son. This is just what she does.”

Kathy finally deemed the situation okay. She pushed Howard out of the doorway and clicked the lights off. “Sleep well!” she chirped.

Surprisingly enough, Eggsy actually did sleep well. He was so thankful his PTSD (he fucking hated that term, just hated it, but his therapist kept encouraging him to use it) didn’t include night terrors. He couldn’t think of many things more miserable than having to wake up constantly throughout the night and being bone-tired the next day.

(Not that other elements of PTSD were great – he just found that a lot of people romanticized nightmares, for whatever reason. What was romantic about being so tired the next day that you couldn’t concentrate and had an exhaustion headache?)

The next morning he felt refreshed, in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He snuck out of the house before Kathy could get her claws into him and went back to his flat, where he played with Daisy. One of the mothers in Daisy’s new playgroup had given them an old bedazzling set that Daisy was currently obsessed with, so they spent an hour sticking fake blue jewels onto three of her dolls. One of their faces was entirely covered in jewels by the end of it, but Daisy seemed thrilled, so. He couldn’t complain.

He got a call from Merlin later in the morning – he was expected in “at any time.” When Eggsy asked why, Merlin had cackled and said, “Well, you have to make up those lost therapy sessions sometime, don’t you? You’re going to see her every day for weeks.”

Eggsy didn’t know if Merlin was exaggerating or not. He was 75% sure he wasn’t.

As Eggsy cooked some bacon for breakfast, Lydia half-slumped over on the couch – she took about two hours to properly wake up because she had a tendency to marathon episodes of Sherlock – the door opened quietly behind him.

“Ay-yo,” said Eggsy as Roxy came in. Her hair was done fairly well, with lots of curls and loops. She had done this little twisty-thing to a huge chunk in the front that was pinned expertly back, clearing the hair from her face and framing it beautifully. She had on casual jeans and a skin-tight purple shirt that accentuated her arms.

“Is there some for me?” she asked, peering over Eggsy’s shoulder into the frying pan.

Eggsy really hadn’t made enough, but he said anyway, “There’s always some for you.”

“My hero,” she said, dropping a kiss on top of his head like she was a grandma.

“Where are you off to?” Eggsy asked, eyeing her get-up.

“Trying another date,” she said, sitting down. “I’m going out to lunch.”

“Isn’t lunch for friends and dinner for dates?”

“I’m trying something different,” she said, lifting up her arms in a ‘what-can-you-do’ sort of motion.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“You wouldn’t know him.” She heaved herself up onto the counter, to Eggsy’s aggravation. Unsanitary, really. “He does embalming.”

“…I’ve never met someone who actually does embalming.”

“Me, either. But he’s a surprisingly nice guy. Polite, respectful, very warm.”

“Is he a murdering psychopath? Because I feel like you gotta be crazy to do embalming.”

“Well, if he turns out to be one, I can handle him,” said Roxy. Which, okay, fair point. “And anyway, you’re dating Harry Hart. Who are you to throw stones?”

Which, okay. Another fair point, even if he wasn’t sure they were dating anymore.

“You find dates suspiciously fast,” said Eggsy.

“I go to conventions.” She gave him a teasing smile. “I went out with a guy who ran a city dump once. Probably the best I’ve had so far.”

“Sex in a garbage dump? Didn’t take you to be the type.”

“Wha – no, I meant that he was the best guy out of them all. Not that he was the best sexually.”

Eggsy looked at her expectantly. Roxy raised her eyebrows. Eggsy said, “Well? You ain’t gonna tell me who was the best sexually?”

Lydia coughed not-so-delicately from the direction of the sofa.

Eggsy shook his head and started serving up the bacon. He would tease Roxy about her sexual exploits some other time. There would always be a spare moment to make her want to kill him. “Want tea or anything with it?”

“Oh, no thanks. I have it on good authority that your tea is terrible.”

“Fuck,” sighed Eggsy, shaking his head. “Can’t believe he said that.”

Daisy, from where she was sitting by Lydia on the floor playing with her stuffed parrot, said, “Fuck! Fuck!”

“Oh, shit,” was the first thing out of Eggsy’s mouth. And then, when he realized, said, “No, that’s not what I meant!”

“Fuck!” she said, grinning over to Eggsy. “Fuck!”

Lydia sighed and dropped her head into her hands.

Roxy covered up her mouth. Her eyes were sparkling as she said, “Well, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“I don’t even say it that much!”

Lydia said, “Is that why Daisy’s saying it now?”

Eggsy’s instinctive first response was a hearty “fuck you,” but he had to tamp down on that impulse when he realized that it would just prove Lydia’s point. Fuck.

Only one thing to do, then. Eggsy walked into the sitting room and picked Daisy up solemnly. “You can’t be like me, baby girl,” he said. “You can’t say those kind of things.”

“Fuck!” she cried happily. She pressed her palm to Eggsy’s jawbone, digging her little fingers with deceptively sharp nails into his cheek. “Fuck!”

Eggsy glanced over to find Roxy holding up her phone, clearly videotaping. He gave her his best deadpan look while Daisy firmly stated, “Fuck.”

Roxy lowering her phone, grinning. “For posterity,” she said, tapping something into the keyboard.

He wanted to say “fuck you” to her, too, but that option was clearly out. His life, really.

Well, whatever. He’d save his worries for more serious problems. Eggsy started setting Daisy up into her high chair while Lydia and Roxy circled the bacon like sharks. When he finally got over to the pan, all the bacon was eaten and both women weren’t even trying to look innocent about it. He gave a sigh and started to make some scrambled eggs for him and Daisy.

“So,” said Roxy, now sniffing around the eggs. “Is Ryan out of the hospital yet?”

“Being released in two days,” said Eggsy. He waved the spatula at her threateningly when she got too close. “Most of the bruises are gone now and they don’t think he’ll get an infection in his ear as long as he keeps it clean.”

“How much of his ear did he lose?”

“Not too much of it, thank God,” said Eggsy. “Mostly the lower stuff. A little more than the lobe. He’s got one of those huge horn-things and he’s planning on putting it in his ear and yelling ‘what’ every time someone tries to talk to him.”

Roxy blinked. “Did he lose some of his hearing?”

“Nope,” said Eggsy.

Roxy sighed and shook her head. “Who gave him the horn?”

Eggsy fell guiltily silent.

“Couldn’t that be insulting to people who have actually lost their hearing?”

“Maaaaybe,” said Eggsy, “or it could be really funny.”

Roxy said, “I’m confiscating it as soon as I see it.”

Eggsy pulled out his phone to text a warning to Ryan.

“Anyway, I should probably get going,” said Roxy. “There’s a Kingsman meeting I gotta get to.”

“A meeting? I haven’t heard about a meeting.”

“Yeah, because you’re the subject of it.” Roxy rolled her eyes at him. “Really.”

Eggsy shooed her out of the house. He fed Daisy, who dropped a couple more “fucks” throughout breakfast, and began to gather his things to go to the mansion. Lydia collected Daisy to take her to the park, where she was supposedly meeting with a play group.

When Eggsy was dressed sharp in a suit (navy blue with faded white pinstripes, single-breasted, with over-large matching buttons), he opened up the door to head out.

And came face-to-face with Michelle. She had an air about her like she had been hovering there for a while, on the brink of knocking but not quite making the leap. Her hands flew up to her face, but not before Eggsy got a decent eyeful of discolored skin.

“Ah, fuck,” said Eggsy. “Come in, mum.”

She stumbled inside, her hands still covering her face, like she didn’t want to reveal the extent of the damage. Eggsy snagged a tissue box and offered it to her. She took one hand off of her face, but even with the other still covering it, Eggsy could see the bruise peeking out.

“Mum,” he said, sadly.

Michelle dropped all pretense. She stood, tears coursing down her face, her make-up ruined. The entire right half of her face was a vivid, purple bruise, from forehead to jaw. It was like someone had taken a purple paintbrush to her face but had loaded the bristles with too much paint – like her face was dripping bruises.

“I ain’t here to see you,” she said.

“You here for Daisy? Cause I ain’t letting you have her, mum.”

Michelle sniffled, wiping snot on the sleeve of her shirt. “I ain’t here to take her. I just need to see her.”

“Why?”

“Because Rottie just whaled the shit out of me, Eggsy, and I want to see something good.”

Eggsy hissed through his teeth. “Rottie did this?”

“I ain’t seen Dean since that fucking birthday party,” said Michelle. “What was it now, two weeks ago? Feels like ages.”

“Yeah,” said Eggsy. “Where you been, mum?”

Michelle gave a sad-sounding laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Tell me.”

Michelle scratched her arm absentmindedly, her eyes fixed on the fridge. She ventured a little more into the flat, cautiously, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I been at rehab.”

“Rehab?”

“Rehab.”

“So what are you doing out? You can’t already be clean.”

“I ain’t. They kept telling me there that Dean’s bad for me.” Fresh tears began to trickle out of Michelle’s eyes while she absentmindedly picked at a dirty spot on the counter. She was deliberately avoiding Eggsy’s eyes. “And, okay, I knew that, yeah? I fucking knew that. But I don’t like it when smug counselors sit there and judge me like I ain’t worth shit because I got myself in a bad situation. So I thought I’d nip out for a bit and see Dean, prove that he ain’t as bad as them counselors were saying. Because Dean and I love each other, yeah?”

Eggsy waited patiently for the end of the story.

“’Cept when I was walking towards his flat, Rottie ran across me. Said that since I run off, Dean took away his protection. Said anyone can have at me. And apparently…” Michelle trailed off for a moment, holding a hand up to her mouth. Her face crumpled. “Apparently Rottie’s always wanted at me.”

Eggsy felt anger burn for his mother. He stepped forward, putting his arms around her. It was an awkward question to have to ask his mother, but: “Did he touch you?” He said it lowly, angrily, thoughts of hurting Rottie spinning wildly through his mind.

But his mum shook her head against his chest. “Nah, babe,” she said. “He roughed me up a bit, but I started screaming and he spooked. Got lucky, I guess.”

“Rottie ain’t got the balls to do it if the girl ain’t drugged,” said Eggsy, and he wished he didn’t know that for certain.

“It ain’t right,” said Michelle, her voice high-pitched and full of tears. “None if it’s right, Eggsy. I’m gone for two weeks and Dean cuts ties? I thought… I thought…”

“I know,” soothed Eggsy. “I know what you been thinking, mum, I know.”

“It ain’t fair.” She began to sob in earnest, the ugly kind of sobbing that was bone-deep but healing. “It ain’t fucking fair that the guy I love ain’t a good guy.”

Eggsy made shushing sounds as they began to sway back and forth, rubbing his mother’s back soothingly. It was awkward to hold her in his arms – it was clear that she didn’t want to be there, that she didn’t want to be soothed, but she was also at the end of her rope and unsure of what else to do. Eggsy was at a loss of how to comfort, because he was thrown off-kilter and crying people always made him nervous. It was an awkward situation all around, made worse by the jagged history between them.

It took a long while for Michelle to calm down, but eventually she stepped away, accepting tissues when Eggsy handed them over.

“While I’m here,” she said, wiping away the make-up on her face, “I might as well tell you. I submitted a testimony to the court. I’m supporting your bid for guardianship rights.”

“Mum…” said Eggsy, thoroughly shocked. “Are you sure?”

“I ain’t gonna be able to take care of her while I’m in rehab,” said Michelle.

“You’re going back?”

“Didn’t finish it, did I?” She cast about for a mirror. When she found one, she began to dab at her eyes, trying to minimize the cry-cast to her face. “’Course I’m going back. Dean… he ain’t got no right to say those things about you that he did during that party. And I thought it were time for me to go someplace that’d remind me of that.”

“I’m proud of you, mum.”

Michelle snorted. “You ain’t proud of me, Eggsy. I bet even now you’re trying to think of where to hide me if your nanny gets back. You want me to stay a secret.” Eggsy shifted slightly. He wasn’t thinking it quite like that, really – he had just been trying to work out the logistics in his head, is all. He and Michelle consistently misinterpreted each other. “And anyway,” she continued, “I plan on suing for Daisy back when I get out.”

Eggsy could deal with that. Hell, depending on how his mum was after, he might willingly hand her over. “Still gotta go to court, though. Your permission ain’t enough.”

“That, and I think Dean plans on fighting it,” said Michelle. “Said as much before I left. He mentioned that if I didn’t fight it, he would – he’d sue for full custody. Said he had his rights and planned on exercising them.”

Eggsy froze with the stillness and finesse of a seasoned hunter. He carefully – every motion suddenly very deliberate – handed over more tissues when Michelle threw the used-up wad into the rubbish bin.

She blew her nose. “He’s probably pushing the paperwork through now before the court date.”

“I see,” said Eggsy. He let a fake, practice smile flow across his face. Nothing to see here, Eggsy was completely innocent, look at how nice he seemed. No murderous thoughts going through his head. No, sirree. “You wanna stay here for a bit, mum? Lay down for a bit, get your shit together, and then go back? I dunno when Daisy’ll be back…”

“Thanks,” said Michelle. She looked exhausted, with a million little stress lines decorating her face. She started heading toward her old room. “I’ll only stay for a few hours. I’m knackered.”

While the familiar sounds of Michelle settling down echoed out from her room, Eggsy made a phone call.

“Oi, Merlin,” he said. “Got a question for you.”

“All right.”

“Theoretically, what would happen if I didn’t go to therapy today?”

“Hm,” said Merlin. “I’d probably kill you. Why?”

“I’m not going to therapy today.”

“Well, don’t make this a habit, Agent Lionel.”

When Eggsy fell silent for a moment, Merlin cackled and said, “They voted. Congratulations.”

And then hung up, because Merlin was a son of a bitch.

Eggsy laughed, let the triumph flow through him, and then started preparing for some errands. He chose a Glock out of his (slowly-growing) collection of weapons. Eggsy carefully slid the gun into his shoulder holster. He smoothed out the lines of his suit, the Kingsman-tailored material making any weapon invisible. He had people to visit today. The first: one Dean Anthony Baker. It would be a “conversation” long overdue.

He didn’t ask his mum where Dean was living – another call took care of that. He even recognized, vaguely, the address – it was close to where Sharpie used to live, back when he was messing around with her. It was a pretty bad part of the estates (not that where they had been was great). But this was definitely a darker part.

One last glance in the mirror – fussing needlessly with an errant strand of hair – and he was off. He took a taxi over, since his flat was a hefty walk from the estates and he didn’t want to tire himself out before he got there. He had a feeling he would need his strength.

He made the driver drop him off a block away. He overtipped – the driver looked conflicted for long moments about the amount before deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

And then he was on his own.

It was… weird, to be back in the estates. Well, not weird, per se, since he had been back a few times since moving. Mostly to visit Ryan or a couple of his other friends. Jamal lived on the very outskirts of the estates, enough inside to say he lived in them but just outside enough for some of the other boys to tease him about being rich.

The part that was actually weird was being in the estates in a suit. He was getting suspicious looks from people he recognized but who clearly weren’t recognizing him. Mackie Potter, a rough-and-tumble neighbor who Eggsy had known for most of his life, eyed Eggsy and slipped a hand casually into his pocket. Eggsy knew from experience that he was clutching a slightly-rusted knife. Dame Elda, a seventy-year-old relic who made chocolate cakes for birthdays when requested, tried to make herself as small as possible when Eggsy passed by and held her two grocery bags between them like a shield.

It made sense. Why would someone walk into the estates in a suit if not for trouble? That trouble could come in all forms – he knew the questions going through their minds. Was he an important gangster? Was he from Child Protective Services, there to take someone’s child away? Perhaps he was there to evict someone from their home. Whatever the case may be, the suits made people wary, and they never expected little Gary Unwin to be wearing one.

It almost made him feel guilty.

It didn’t take him long to find Dean’s flat. The outer door had several chunks missing from it, like someone had taken a shovel and gouged at it. The flat next door was covered in graffiti of a giant green and purple dragon smoking a joint. Down the way, he could see a group of four or five men grouped around a beat-up looking hookah. They were sharing a laugh as someone passed the hose over. They paid no attention to Eggsy.

He knocked on the door, two firm raps that felt like they echoed.

No one answered.

He knocked three more times before pulling out his lock picks. He had the door open in thirty seconds. The men still hadn’t even glanced at Eggsy.

A smell rather like dog food rolled over him. He resisted the temptation to gag and put his sleeve up to his face, breathing in the cologne still lingering on his wrist. The lights had been left on though it seemed apparent that no one was there – the flat had an empty, hollow quality that suggested a lack of people.

Not that Dean hadn’t made his mark on it, though. Beer cans and cheap vodka bottles were haphazardly thrown on the floor. The beer cans looked empty, but some of the vodka bottles still had some alcohol in them. He could see hairs and other detritus stuck to the lips of some of the bottles, a sign that they had been on the floor for a while. He could also see sticky alcohol residue dotting the worn-down carpet; fuck, the whole carpet really needed to be replaced.

The flat was small, clearly intended for one-person use. It had a tiny kitchen that included a fridge and a stove and one countertop, which was covered in cans of Red Bull and a half-eaten sandwich. There was a miniscule sitting room that had somehow squeezed in a telly, a couch, and a wobbly-looking squat table.

He took a step further into the flat. The squat table was covered. There were two lines of coke, unsnorted, which was ridiculous – who would make a line and leave it? There were what looked like a couple of dirty needles scattered on the table, fuck, that was dangerous as hell. And since when was Dean shooting up? The most Eggsy was aware of him doing was coke, and even that sparingly. Dean was more of a pot and alcohol guy, usually together.

There was also a pack of unused needles waiting to be opened, along with a messenger bag. Eggsy knew, instinctively, there were drugs in the messenger bag, but he opened it up anyway to check and nearly reeled from shock.

Dean must be moving on to more dangerous drugs, because that was not coke. Not that coke wasn’t dangerous… but this was big-league type stuff.

Fuck.

Whatever. He wasn’t here to bust Dean. He could care less about the drugs.

Eggsy began his first errand – he searched the place, methodically, exactly the way he had been taught. Even though he doubted Dean would notice if anything moved, he still replaced everything carefully. He wore gloves and checked even the most innocuous place. Bedroom – ugh – bathroom, everything.

Nothing revealed papers to sue for sole custody, which meant that either he hadn’t filled them out yet or he had already submitted them. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He trotted back into the sitting room and sighed, surveying the mess. He was half-tempted to steal the messenger bag – there had to be a couple thousand worth of drugs in there – but he knew if he did that then he’d be tempted to do some of it and he wasn’t interested in going into another downward spiral after all he’d recently been through.

Unless…

He reached toward the bag and then jerked his hand back. No. No, he wouldn’t even entertain the thought. This was not the time to get mixed back up in drugs.

He turned around, ready to get out of there, and froze as a muzzle of a pistol pressed into his belly.

“Mugsy,” said Dean, grinning a crooked smile. “Fancy that. We wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Behind him, another man and Poodle slouched into the room, pulling the door shut firmly behind them. Eggsy had no idea how he hadn’t heard Dean come in in the first place, especially with the debris littering the floor. They should’ve been clanging alcohol bottles together like goddamn Christmas bells.

Three men, Eggsy thought, letting his eyes skip over Dean, Poodle, and the unknown man. He could easily take them… except there was the unfortunate fact that Dean could pull the trigger much faster than Eggsy could wrench the gun away. Fuck.

Maybe he should have brought back-up.

Dean dug the gun harder into Eggsy’s six-pack. Eggsy very deliberately repressed a wince. “What’re you doing, Mugsy?”

“What happened to your face?” Eggsy asked instead, because Dean’s face was a mess of fresh-looking scars, some healed, some not. Eggsy guessed he had pressed in on some guy’s turf, but…

“Oi, your pimp didn’t tell you? Thought he’d mess with my pretty face. Jokes on him, though. Look tougher this way. Getting more jobs.” Dean bared a grin at Eggsy and Eggsy counted two missing teeth.

“My pimp?” said Eggsy, confused for a moment until it clicked. God, fucking Harry. When did he even…?

“What are you here for?” said Dean, his face contorting a little. “Revenge?”

“Not quite,” said Eggsy. He jutted his chin out, posturing.

“Ha,” said Dean, seeing through him. “You still ain’t got no fucking bollocks, mate. You still just a fucking loser, just like the rest of us.”

Eggsy thought about it, then grinned. “Nah. I ain’t never been like you. I ain’t the type to smack around a girl.”

Dean snorted, and then paused. “You been seeing Michelle anywhere?” He said it almost casually. Eggsy could see Poodle and the unknown man shift, uncomfortable. There was no way to really be casual when you had a gun digging into someone’s flesh.

“Why don’t you ask Rottie,” said Eggsy, intently. He searched Dean’s face as it crinkled in confusion.

“Rottie? The fuck he got to do with it?”

Eggsy almost took a step forward, but the gun pressed insistently into his belly. “You have no control over your dogs. You put pretend collars on them and then let them piss all over your things.”

Dean’s face contorted again. “Oi, Michelle ain’t a thing. And… I take it you’ve seen her then. How… how is she?”

Eggsy sucked in a breath. “Too good for you,” he breathed out. “Always. Always too good for you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You was always so dramatic. Like you was any better for her. Making her think she ain’t deserving Daisy, always making her feel bad cause she ain’t giving you a fancy life like your daddy.”

“Are you… are you defending her? To me? You’re the one who hurt her!”

“Maybe,” said Dean, grimacing. “You know I weren’t meaning to hurt her. I just got a temper sometimes. But you – what’s your excuse, eh? If I started hurting her, you sure finished it.”

“I tried to help her!”

“That so? Well, ain’t that just the bee’s knees, huh, boys?” he turned and grinning at Poodle and the unknown man. Both – who had been pretending not to listen – grunted and grinned stupidly back. “He tried to help her. Like she were some five-year-old child. How’d that pandering work, boy? Eh? Bet treating her like a dumb kid really made her feel better, yeah?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you even ask her? Nah, but that’s not how it works, innit? You just gotta sweep in and save her from big bad Dean.” Dean’s eyes looked very cruel. “But Michelle ain’t the kinda woman you just walk in and save, Mugsy. Maybe, if she lets you, you can help her. But save? Nah. She don’t need that shit from you.”

“Fuck you,” said Eggsy, nearly breathless with anger. “Fuck you, Dean.”

“And what’re you doing here, then, Mugsy? Come to do some more saving?”

“I hear you’re countersuing for Daisy.”

Dean’s eyebrows went up. “Well, I’m her father, ain’t I? You ain’t gonna just erase me from her life. Now…” Dean jerked the gun toward the couch several times, clearly motioning Eggsy to sit down. “You just take a load off, Eggsy. I’m going to call a couple of my buddies, and we’re all going to have lots of fun.”

Dean never should have even twitched the gun away from Eggsy. He lashed out, sinuous – with a brutal move, he snagged Dean’s wrist and twisted. A dull crack sounded out in the flat. Unbeknownst to Eggsy, this was the same arm that Harry had broken at the party. Dean had never bothered to go to the hospital about it; as a result, he curled around his arm in agony, almost howling in pain.

Poodle, having gone through a beating with both Eggsy and Harry, was more prepared this time around. He lurched forward, bringing out a knife and throwing it at Eggsy.

This probably would have been a great move, especially since Eggsy wasn’t expecting it. Unfortunately for Poodle, however, he had never thrown a knife before. It didn’t have the correct spin or power behind it. The hilt of the knife hit Eggsy rather than the blade and bounced off of him, skidding across the floor.

Eggsy didn’t give Poodle a chance to recover. He executed a high kick, thanking his gymnastics training in the back of his head. It connected, but perhaps too well – Poodle’s head snapped back and the second crack of the night sounded across the flat. Eggsy had broken Poodle’s neck.

This made Eggsy falter in shock. He had never killed a civilian before… If you could truthfully call Poodle that. And there was no doubting he was dead – no one could survive their head being at quite that angle. Eggsy hadn’t realized he had that much force behind the kick.

“Oh my fucking God,” said the third man, and he brought up a small handgun and shot Eggsy twice in the chest.

Eggsy fell back, swearing. Bulletproof bespoke or no, that shit still hurt like a bitch.

Bulletproof bespoke. How could Eggsy have forgotten? He could’ve let Dean shoot him in the stomach before, it wouldn’t have hurt him. Fuck, being by Dean again was making him forget that he was a Kingsman.

The man’s mouth dropped clear open when he realized that Eggsy was still standing. Eggsy brought out his Glock – in for a penny, in for a pound – and shot the man in the head.

And then he turned to Dean.

“I think we should talk,” he said, stashing his still-smoking gun back in his holster. He didn’t need it anymore. Kingsman had taught him many things, and one of those was that he didn’t need a gun to hurt someone.

Dean was huddled on the floor, still nursing his hurt arm. He looked up at Eggsy, and of all the things that Eggsy thought he would feel in this moment – triumph, anger, hatred – all he could feel was pity.

Eggsy wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because, in the end, Dean was pathetic. Take away his lackeys, strip the power from him, and he was just another man, whimpering on the floor. Maybe, in another life, Dean could have been something. A better man. A better husband. Maybe he could have lived up to that person in the sitting room who had danced with Michelle to no music.

And, to be fair, Dean had never stood a fighting chance. Not when you were constantly compared to Lee Unwin. It didn’t make what he did excusable, but there wasn’t ever any way he was going to fill those shoes.

But.

Pity or not, this man was threatening to take away Daisy. And, what? Make her live in this heap? No.

Not on Eggsy’s watch.

So Eggsy grinned, not a nice one, and channeled his inner Harry Hart as he stepped forward – because here and now, he wasn’t going to twitch away from Dean. He was going to remind Dean why it was a bad idea to challenge him.

“Now,” said Eggsy. “Let’s talk about Daisy, shall we?”

When Eggsy left the flat, he started walking towards one not far off. Rottie lived near Dean, but it was still a good ten minutes before he found himself at his door.

Pity that Rottie hadn’t been with Dean earlier. It would have taken care of two errands instead of just the one.

As far as Eggsy was aware, Rottie was still living with his grandmother. No one was quite sure what happened with his parents, and the only time that Eggsy had summoned up the balls to ask Rottie had smacked him around so hard that his mum had to take him to the A&E to get stitches. No one had asked again after that.

Rottie’s grandmother was a sweet, doting old thing who had an intense addiction to both reality television and ‘shrooms. No one was quite sure how she was still alive and kicking, especially since she had been addicted to various substances throughout the phases of her life. She was about sixty-five years old but looked and walked as if she were around ninety. She had a smoker’s voice and was missing all of her teeth. She had never bothered to get dentures.

She was the one who opened the door when Eggsy knocked. She grinned a gummy smile at him and said, “Hello, sweetie. How can I help you?”

Eggsy opened his mouth and realized he didn’t know Rottie’s real name, or even his last name. He had no idea how to address his grandmother. Awkwardly, he said, “Is Rottie in?”

She smacked her lips together, looking thoughtful. “I think he’s supposed to be getting in in a bit. Unless he’s been held up. Would you like to come in and have some coffee?”

“Sure,” said Eggsy. Rottie’s grandmother was missing the trademark accent, but her words were blurred together by the missing teeth, like she was prevented from articulating fully. She didn’t seem to be aware that the missing teeth might be unnerving, just grinning at him and holding the door open for him to step through.

Rottie’s flat wasn’t anything like Eggsy expected it to be. He knew, theoretically, that Rottie lived with his grandmother, but seeing it was something else entirely. The flat looked like it had been decorated in the 1950’s, with stiff-looking couches and everything in puke-green shades. It looked too neat to touch, and, as much as Eggsy resented stereotypes, everything felt so old and precious that he was uncertain of touching things.

A worry that was quickly put to rest as Rottie’s grandmother ushered him into a seat and began making coffee.

“I’d make you tea, dear,” she said, “but I don’t think the caffeine in tea is good for you.”

“Um. Isn’t there caffeine in coffee?”

Rottie’s grandmother gave Eggsy a slightly pitying look. “Who told you that?”

“I… I’m pretty sure it’s a fact.”

“You can’t believe everything you hear.”

While she jabbed at buttons on her coffeemaker, Eggsy subtly scoped out the flat. Not much room to move, if things got ugly, but he didn’t plan for them to be. Mostly because Eggsy doubted Rottie would try much with his grandmother nearby.

Rottie’s grandmother settled in an overly puffy armchair near the couch. “Rottie doesn’t have friends stop by often,” she said, cheerfully. “Tell me about yourself.”

“My name’s Eggsy. I’m a tailor.”

“A tailor! You know, just the other day I was wearing these beautiful velour pants and I had a little accident. You know how things get when you’re old, these things happen, and I couldn’t quite get to the bathroom in time. I do hate to see that brown stain on those beautiful pants. Would you be able to get that out for me?”

Eggsy tried his best not to gape at her. “Uh, tailors don’t… They don’t clean clothes. I measure and fit for bespoke suits.” He gestured down at his get-up to get his point across.

She huffed. “Well, if you really knew clothes, then you would be able to help me out.”

“…Right. Sorry bout that.”

“It’s okay,” she said, apparently pacified by the apology. She was distracted by a beeping on the coffeemaker, and went back to the kitchen to emerge with two steaming cups of coffee (put in two plastic cups).

Eggsy accepted the cup gracefully and took a cautious sip. It tasted terrible.

“So how do you know my Rottie?”

“Oh. We, uh. Run in the same crowds, I suppose.”

Rottie’s grandmother narrowed her eyes at him. “You aren’t one of them druggies, are you?”

“What? No!”

“Oh. Well, if you were, I have some weed here if you wanna smoke with me.”

Eggsy was beginning to regret coming here. He could also feel a headache coming on. “No thanks. Trying not to smoke anymore.”

“Pity.”

“Right.” Eggsy wanted to make conversation – something like, ‘and what do you do?’, except he didn’t know if she was retired or if that question would make her bitter. He had no idea how to connect with her. Fuck.

She took a sip of her coffee and coughed. “This tastes like shit,” she said, and glared at him like it was his fault.

“It’s not that bad.” Eggsy awkwardly took another sip of the coffee and tried his best not to make a face while it went down his throat. “Uh, when did you say Rottie might be back?”

“Soon, I hope,” she said. “So, you don’t smoke. You don’t do drugs. Tell me you at least have sex.”

Eggsy, who had been taking a sip of coffee at that moment, snorted in surprise and felt the shitty coffee go up the wrong pipe. His nose burned terribly and he coughed for long moments while Rottie’s grandmother scrutinized him.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” said Eggsy, setting his cup down and wiping at his nose.

She narrowed her eyes again. “You aren’t one of them gays, are you? I’ve got a great gaydar.”

“Gaydar isn’t a real thing,” said Eggsy. “You can’t tell a person’s sexuality by the way they act.”

She sniffed. “You’re a gay, then.”

Eggsy gritted his teeth. So this is where Rottie got it from. “All due respect, ma’am, I didn’t come here to be judged by you.”

“When you’re a gay, you’re asking to be judged.”

“Are you fucking serious?” asked Eggsy, just in time for the door to swing open.

Rottie stood in the doorway, blinking at the scene. Eggsy supposed it was probably surreal to him – his grandmother, drinking coffee with Eggsy, who was in a full suit (albeit with two metallic, puckered spots where the bullets had hit). Eggsy in his sitting room was probably weird enough.

“Oi, what’re you doing here?” he demanded when he got over his shock.

“He’s being gay,” Rottie’s grandmother muttered.

Eggsy stood up, abandoning the shitty coffee on the table. “Wanna talk about my mum’s bruises, bruv.”

“Your mum were asking for it, if you ask me. Slag like that, thinking she can just up and leave Dean. And what’re you doing? Dean’ll kill you if he finds you on his turf.”

“Dean ain’t a problem no more,” said Eggsy, grinning. “But you sure as fuck are. Didjya really think I were gonna let you hurt my mum? After all them bar fights, knowing now that I ain’t someone to mess with?”

Rottie squared his jaw. “I ain’t afraid of you. Just cause you got money now don’t make you better than me. I can still kick your arse.”

Rottie’s grandmother tutted. “If you’re going to fight, don’t do it in the flat,” she said. “Take it outside. And, Rottie, could you pick up more weed while you’re out? I smoked most of it this morning.”

Heaving a huge sigh, Rottie stared at his grandmother. “Damn it, I just bought that! How in the fuck did you get through it all?”

She shrugged.

Rottie appeared to give up and gestured at Eggsy to follow him outside. Eggsy did so, keeping a wary eye on Rottie while he slid past.

Shutting the door firmly behind him, Rottie wasted no time in bringing out his gun. This would have been devastatingly effective, if Eggsy didn’t already have a knife out at his throat. It was a simple matter to just dig blunted fingernails into Rottie’s wrist and wrench the gun away. It clattered across the pavement, accidentally discharging a bullet into the cement siding of the flat.

There was a deadened sort of silence before Eggsy could visibly see people pulling their curtains shut. It was like the estates was shrinking in on itself for protection – they wanted nothing to do with this altercation. Nothing.

“Ain’t no Dean here to save you, Rottie,” Eggsy said.

“I ain’t needing Dean to teach you a lesson,” Rottie sneered, curling his lip at Eggsy. He seemed entirely unconcerned about the knife at his throat. “You ain’t gonna hurt me, Eggsy. You got morals.”

“I do,” said Eggsy, coolly. “I do got a lot of morals, Rottie. But you’re a moron if you think that my morals are gonna come in the way of me protecting my own.”

Eggsy pressed the knife harder into Rottie’s throat, creating a straight-edged red line that began slowly dripping blood. Rottie still looked like he didn’t believe Eggsy would do anything –

White-hot bursts of pain exploded on the right side of his head. Eggsy stumbled away, lifting his hands up to prod at his hairline. Something hard and heavy had slammed into his head, and when he pulled his hands away, they were covered in blood. He lifted his hand up again – there, a huge gash, gushing enough to make a blood bank jealous.

Rottie’s grandmother stood nearby, clutching a large, ugly lamp that now had splotches of blood on it. She grinned her toothless grin and said, “You aren’t going to hurt my grandson! Don’t think I wasn’t on to you in there!”

Eggsy supposed that Rottie was banking on Eggsy not wanting to hurt a sixty-five-year-old. In a different life, one where he hadn’t been trained in torture, maybe he would have hesitated. Hell, maybe in another life he wouldn’t have hesitated anyway – Kingsman had a tendency to fuck up feelings of right and wrong. It was no wonder that Harry was so fucked in the head.

In this life, though, Eggsy had been through too much to care about her age. He had dealt drugs, watched his mother cry, felt helpless while Dean held Daisy semi-tender. He had been tied to fake train tracks and been responsible for hundreds of heads blowing up. He had speared a man through his chest and banged a princess after. He had shot out the knees of a lover and experienced the feeling of power as a man wet himself out of fear of Eggsy. He had toppled the prior regime at Kingsman and dismantled the new one. He had bedded Harry Hart, a man Eggsy labelled as one of the most dangerous he had ever met, and he had befriended Roxy Morton, a woman so strong that Eggsy was secretly wondering when she would leave Kingsman to rule the world.

This woman? This one, right in front of him?

Seemed so insignificant.

Rottie dove for the gun while Eggsy recovered from the head hit. It was a poor move on his part – Eggsy kicked up and to the side, catching Rottie right in the mouth. There was a sick crunching sound and Rottie fell back against the cement siding, clutching his mouth, which was trickling out blood. He spit out his two front teeth, looking dazed.

Rottie’s grandmother gave a startled shout and lifted the lamp again, but Eggsy pulled his gun out of its holster, fluidity in his moves. He shot her through her hand – she was lucky it wasn’t through her heart – and with a yowl, she dropped the lamp. It shattered, leaving dangerous-looking shards dotting the walkway.

“Right,” said Eggsy, stashing his gun back in its holster. “So, I didn’t really appreciate that hit, but I understand why you felt you needed to do it, ma’am. But I recommend you get the fuck back in that flat, because I don’t give a shit about you, and if you stay out here any longer you might not survive this.”

Eggsy had never seen someone so withered move that fast in his life. The door shut firmly behind her and Eggsy could hear the clanking of locks on the other side. As if they would really keep him out.

“Here’s the thing, Rottie,” said Eggsy, crouching down in front of Rottie, who had finally dropped the unconcerned act and looked like he might shit his pants. “You’re part of a past that I’m trying to leave behind. You can imagine that I don’t like my mum coming home with reminders on her face, yeah? Now, Dean ain’t going to be a problem for me anymore. Let me repeat that, cause I don’t think you’re understanding. I made sure Dean ain’t a problem anymore. I’d hate to do to you what I did to him.”

Eggsy paused, and then admitted, “Well, actually, I probably wouldn’t hate doing it. I would just hate myself for doing it.”

Rottie made a whimpering noise.

Eggsy clapped him on the shoulder. “So we understand each other, yeah? You stay very far away from my life. And I’ll stay out of yours. That means no more trouble. And I mean completely out of my life – if I hear about you giving Ryan or Jamal a hard time, or even so much as looking at them wrong, I’ll be right back here to have another conversation with you.”

Rottie nodded, his eyes darting all around. He couldn’t seem to stand to look at Eggsy.

“Excellent,” said Eggsy, standing up. He smoothed out the lines of his suit again and tutted over the blood beginning to stain the shoulders of the suit, from where his head was still bleeding. “Can I use your bathroom? I need to see about my head.”

After the visit with Rottie, Eggsy had one more errand to run. It had been one he had been meaning to do for a while now.

He walked the well-worn path to the flat. He knew every step, since he had been going there since he was a kid.

He knocked on the door, studiously ignoring the chips in the paint. It opened up to a semi-pretty woman with straw-colored hair who had the exhausted air of someone who never stopped working. Her dulled blue eyes lit up when they saw him.

“Oh, Eggsy!” she said, surprised. “Ryan’s not here. He’s still in the hospital.”

“I know,” said Eggsy, smiling at Ryan’s mum. “I’m actually here to see Ryan’s dad, if he’s around?”

It was time to confront the man Eggsy considered one of the true villains in his life.

When all three errands were over with and finished, Eggsy called the only person he could think of who had decent morals. He needed a talking to.

“Ay-yo, Eggsy,” said Jamal, yawning into the phone. “I just got back from a shift at work. Oh, hey! Have I told you yet? I been head hunted! I’m going in for an interview with some bloke named Mike. Dunno what garage he works at yet, but he said something bout how he’s a mechanic and they’re short-staffed right now and they heard I were good. Dunno how they heard, but I’m fucking excited!”

“That’s great,” said Eggsy, shrugging out of his suit. He could hear his mother in the other room, gently moving around.

“I know. I hope it pays better. It’d be great if I could move out of here, maybe get a nice flat like you. Support my dad. Pay the community back a little. But living somewhere nice would be awfully sweet right now.”

“Maybe even next to me.”

“I ain’t that optimistic.”

“Well, who knows where this Mike works,” Eggsy grinned into the phone. “Could be a fucking magical place.”

“Fuck you,” laughed Jamal. “So what’s up? You usually don’t call.”

“Oh, I’m just having a bit of a day,” said Eggsy, now stripped down to his pants. He collapsed back on his bed and thanked the lords Jamal couldn’t see him.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Mk. Hey, I was thinking maybe you, me, Roxy, and Ryan could all go out again sometime. I heard about this new place near that club Roxy showed us that’s supposed to be real good.”

“Jamal. Is this ‘new place’ a bowling place?”

“…no?”

Eggsy laughed helplessly, covering his face with one hand. Jamal loved ten pin bowling and tried to trick them into doing it all the time by implying they were actually going to clubs. “Bloody hell, Jamal, I don’t want to go bowling again.”

“But we ain’t been in ages!”

“For good reason!”

“For no good reason, cuz! C’mon. And think, it’s guaranteed that Rottie and his gang won’t be around.”

Eggsy brooded over that for long moments, before saying, “Well, I feel like they won’t be around anyway.”

Jamal snorted. “Like they’re that easy to get rid of.”

“Just saying.”

“Whatever, bruv. We should go bowling!”

“If you can convince Ryan and Roxy to go, I’ll go.”

“Aha! I’ve already got Ryan on board. He said there’s a lot of potential for ear jokes there.”

“How does a bowling alley make for good ear jokes?”

“Guess you’ll just have to come to find out.”

“You’re a wanker,” said Eggsy.

Jamal yawned again in response.

They sat on the phone in silence for a while. Eggsy could hear Jamal absentmindedly moving around in his flat. In the background, Jamal’s father seemed to be saying something, to which Eggsy heard a muffled reply – Jamal must have put a hand over the speaker or something.

“I’m scared I’m becoming a bad person,” Eggsy blurted out.

There was a slight pause, before Jamal said, “Why do you say that, bruv?”

“I hurt people today.”

“Who?”

“Rottie. Dean.” Eggsy left out Ryan’s father. He didn’t want to hear Jamal’s questions about that.

“How’re you a bad person for hurting them? They’re arseholes, bruv. They’d hurt you worse in a second.”

“Yeah, but… I dunno. Shouldn’t I feel guiltier about it?”

“Well, why’d you hurt them?”

“They were hurting my mum.”

“There you go.”

“What?”

“Well, come on, Eggsy. You was always protective of all of us.”

“Yeah. But I hurt more people.”

“Okay. Like who?”

“A girl I slept with.”

“You was sleeping with someone?”

“For a bit there. I really hurt her. Like, physically.”

Jamal was silent for much longer. Then he said, carefully, “What kind of hurt we talking, bruv?”

This was a bad idea. Jamal wasn’t going to understand, not when he didn’t know about Kingsman. “Uh. Just. I dunno, man.”

“Eggsy. Hurting people you date ain’t right, cuz.”

“Oh. Oh, no, not like that. I’m not… Oh, fuck, forget about it.”

“No, no. Don’t back out at this point. What’s going on?”

“…well. I hurt her because she was about to kill someone.”

“That sounds much better than ‘I beat up a girl I were dating,’ cuz.”

“I never said it like that!”

“Well, what the fuck didjya think I was going to think!”

“Okay,” said Eggsy. He scrubbed at his face with one hand and tried to avoid the bandage he had stuck to his cut. “I’m just scared that I’m getting too used to hurting people. Blood used to scare me. I used to hate it all, you know.”

“Well, you still kinda do hate hurting things, don’t you?”

“I don’t know?”

“Well, come on. You’re always so careful around me and Ryan and Roxy. And don’t think I didn’t see the way that you was petting that stray cat the other day. Betcha anything that you went back and picked it up and went to a shelter.”

Eggsy blushed but didn’t deny it. “Look, Jamal, animals ain’t the point. I’m talking humans. Like, I’ve been hurting them a lot more. I used to gross out at the sight of blood. Now I’m okay with it.”

“Eggsy, stop feeding me this bullshit. I don’t know where this I’m-bad bollocks is coming from, but you ain’t bad. Far from it. You’re a good guy. I remember when you had the same freak-out about dealing drugs. It’s the same thing – you gotta do what you gotta do, bruv, and sometimes that means hurting people. It happens. Life’s fucked up. Specially yours. Sorry cuz.”

“All right, whatever,” said Eggsy, not really believing him but set at ease for the moment. “I gotta go. Hey, good luck on your interview, yeah?”

“Thanks bruv.”

Eggsy threw his mobile carelessly on his bedside table and stared up at the ceiling. Was he a bad person? Weeks ago he had told Harry that it was the easy way out to go after Dean. What did that mean for him now? Did he take the easy way out?

He rolled slightly and stared at the picture of Lee on his shelf. What would Lee have done? Would he have been disappointed in the choices Eggsy had made?

Lee had once thrown himself on a grenade for people he had little loyalty to, knowing that he had a wife and kid back at home. Would that selfless man had approved of what Eggsy had done today? Hell, not even just today. What about Diane, or both of the Arthurs.

Eggsy sucked in a deep breath and it wobbled back out, unsteady. He buried his face in his pillow, willing away the burning in his eyes. No. He wasn’t going to get upset over this. He didn’t deserve to get upset over this.

Okay. Okay, Eggsy. Think about something else.

Except the other thing on his mind was Harry Hart, who was waiting for his answer on what they were going to do with their relationship.

And he didn’t want to think about that.

It took another moment for Eggsy to reach a decision, but he finally felt around for his phone on his bedside table. He brought it up to his ear and listened as it rang, rang, rang…

“Jesus fucking Christ, what is it now?”

“Um. I was thinking I might come in today and talk to a therapist anyway.”

Merlin sighed, aggrieved. “Then what the fuck are you still doing out? Get your arse here.”

Eggsy let out an unsteady laugh and said, “Okay.”

“Don’t hang up the phone,” said Merlin, almost like an afterthought. “Keep with me on the line.”

“Okay,” said Eggsy, standing up and casting about for his pants. “Why?”

“Because I recognize that tone of voice. I’ve let people off the line with that voice before and never seen them again. Don’t hang up on me.”

“Merlin, I ain’t gonna commit suicide or something!”

“You won’t while we’re on the phone together,” said Merlin, and if Merlin had been right in front of him Eggsy would have punched him out. Dick.

“Whatever,” said Eggsy. But he kept Merlin on the phone.

Just in case.

The first leg of getting to the mansion was easy – mostly because he counted putting his pants on as the first leg of the journey, pun entirely intended there. He had to put the mobile on speakerphone while he wriggled into the bespoke material. He could hear Merlin breathing on the other line, sedate, steady, solid.

“What’re you doing?” asked Eggsy, gathering up his shit and disconnecting the speakerphone, sticking the mobile back by his ear.

“Salomea fucked up a mission with Degore. Nothing too terrible, he didn’t get hurt, but she directed him the wrong way and he got bogged down by unfriendlies. I’m reviewing the report and trying to figure if I should formally reprimand her or if I should just let it go. She knows better, but I also think her mind’s been elsewhere. She probably won’t do it again.”

Eggsy’s mind – perhaps too entrenched in himself – made what he thought to be the logical jump. “She’s been worrying about me, hasn’t she?”

There was silence, and then Merlin said, “I’d get rid of that ego, boy, before you can’t carry it on your shoulders anymore.”

Eggsy subsided, thoroughly chastised. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Eggsy, shut the fuck up. I know what you’re going through. Doesn’t mean that everything bad that’s happening is due to you. Salomea fucked up. Let that rest on her shoulders, not yours.”

“Okay,” said Eggsy. He reached the front door and opened it up. “I’m leaving my house now.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“I’m not going to. I’m still here.”

Except Eggsy found himself wavering on his own doorstep. Weirdly, irrationally, he thought about going inside and collecting JB. JB would make things better – the stubborn little pug had a tendency to lick/fart/snort in a way that comforted Eggsy.

“What are you thinking?” said Merlin, quietly.

“Uh? Nothing.”

“Eggsy. Let’s not pretend that I don’t have your phone tracked, and that I’m not currently watching your dot stay at a standstill by your flat. What’s going through your head?”

“I want JB,” blurted out Eggsy. He then abruptly reddened and dropped his head into his hands. He had not, in any life, meant to say that. Talk about embarrassing. He was going to get so much shit for that…

“Then bring JB to the mansion,” said Merlin, lightly, easily, like he wasn’t judging Eggsy at all. “I wouldn’t be able to count the number of times that Harry brought Mr. Pickle to the mansion. We give those dogs for more than just training, you know.”

“Okay,” breathed Eggsy. Guess he would take Merlin at his word. He went back inside and scooped JB into his arms. He spent long moments snuggling with JB, rocking him in his arms, feeling absolutely absurd for burying his face into his prickly fur. Lydia and Daisy weren’t back from the park yet and Michelle was in her room, so no one saw as he buried his face in JB’s fat rolls.

He didn’t want to dawdle for too long, conscious of the fact that Merlin was still probably tracking him. Eggsy could just imagine Merlin reading Salomea’s report on one screen and watching Eggsy’s dot on another. Maybe he even had a third screen up. Maybe someone was on a mission and Merlin was directing them on another line.

Maybe he should hang up. Merlin had a lot going on. This was ridiculous. Ridiculous.

He stuck a couple of dog treats in his pocket and surveyed the flat. Eggsy was pretty sure that he had everything that he needed… but maybe… Maybe he should just call it quits. It wasn’t like he needed to go in, after all. And what was therapy really going to do for him? Eggsy could handle this. He could.

“Eggsy,” said Merlin, quietly.

“Maybe I won’t come in,” said Eggsy. “I made a rash decision. I don’t need to come in.”

“There’s no shame in seeking a therapist. I have a standing appointment every week. So do most of the agents. And you know protocol, Eggsy. What you’ve been doing is hard. Talking might help.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s true. Or I could just stay here and deal with it myself. Not trouble anyone.”

The silence that followed that statement was super-charged. And then Merlin said, “Has that been working for you? Has ‘just dealing with it’ helped out those panic attacks that you have?”

“I barely ever get panic attacks. And other people get panic attacks and don’t run to a therapist every time they do.”

“Eggsy.”

Eggsy ran a frustrated hand over his face. JB took it as an invitation and started licking the underside of his jaw. “Merlin, I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m not suicidal.”

“I believe you. I’d believe you more if you were right in front of me.”

“Come on.”

“I’m not backing down.”

“I shouldn’t have to prove myself just because you’re misinterpreting my tone.”

“Eggsy.”

“Fine!”

He made it to the doorstep again, and then halfway down the street. Eggsy had to pause for another moment there, not because he wanted to, but because JB was trying to wriggle his way out of his arms. He spent long moments swearing over his stupid dog, and then more long moments peppering JB with kisses for being so unashamedly himself.

Eggsy got the impression that Merlin was amused, simply by the tone of his silence. He resumed his walk, stopping every few moments to re-adjust the thoroughly discontent JB.

“Why didn’t you grab his leash?” asked Merlin after the third such time.

“Didn’t think about it,” grunted Eggsy, nearly losing his grip on JB.

“Stuff him in your shirt,” suggested Merlin.

More moments were spent trying to get JB into his shirt. It wasn’t as successful as when he was running – he wasn’t a puppy anymore, and his dress shirt wasn’t as stiff as his training gear. While he was wrestling with the squirmy dog, a lady passed him and gave him a startled look.

“Sorry,” Eggsy called after her. “He doesn’t understand how to dog sometimes.”

The lady didn’t even pause as she continued to scurry away.

JB got him through the second leg, all the way up to Savile Row. He couldn’t talk himself out of going if he was more involved in making sure JB didn’t jump out of his arms and waddle off into the afternoon.

Eggsy walked into the shop and gave Dagonet a jaunty wave. Dagonet didn’t even have the grace to look surprised. He just underhandedly passed JB a treat while Eggsy pretended he didn’t notice (he really did; JB huffed out crumbs all over Eggsy’s blazer).

Then he took the long elevator down to the bullet train. Most of the elevator ride was spent with Eggsy yelling at JB not to pee on the stupid little ottoman in the room. JB did anyway; honestly, at this rate, Eggsy was going to completely forget about suicide just to keep this stupid dog in line.

(Not that he was thinking about suicide or anything. Nope. That’s not what this was about. It was about Eggsy humoring Merlin, who was clearly overreacting to a little phone call).

The third leg was the problem, because Eggsy was left looking at the entrance of the bullet train, and just like that, all he could think about was sitting on that bullet train as he checked the time, wondering if his time was up and his colleagues were gone. As, just minutes before, he had been torturing Diane.

Torturing.

Eggsy sat down next to the bullet train, his breath coming short. Not a panic attack, not quite. More like his mind was in a very bad place.

“Eggsy?” said Merlin, quietly, the jagged-like burr of his voice a comfort to his ear.

“I’m here,” said Eggsy, but his voice came out faint, like he was just… fading away.

“Where are your thoughts?”

“I’m not…” Eggsy cast about for the right words.

He clenched his jaw. He gulped, which seemed to be really hard, and closed his eyes. He realized, almost apathetically, that he was shaking.

“I’m not well, Merlin. I’m just not well.”

“Okay, talk me through it. Where is this coming from? What’s giving you this feeling?”

“It’s…” Eggsy wind milled his arms, as if Merlin could see. In his shirt, JB snuffled, confused, pressing a wet nose against Eggsy’s collarbone. “I hurt people, Merlin. I hurt them and I didn’t even flinch. And I don’t even feel bad about it, because they deserved to be hurt. I feel guilty that I don’t feel guilty. Shouldn’t I feel guilty, Merlin?”

“I’m going to sum up what you just said to me so I make sure I’m getting this right,” said Merlin. Eggsy had never heard such a carefulness to Merlin’s voice before. It was like he was choosing each word with special consideration. “You’ve been feeling bad because you don’t feel like you had the appropriate reaction to torturing people.”

“Who shoots out a woman’s knees and then just moves on with their day?” said Eggsy, the sentence cracking in the middle. Cracking, cracking, cracking. He was aware of the tremors getting worse. It was not a panic attack.

Maybe… Maybe Merlin had reason to worry…

There was a slight intake of breath on the other line. “This is why we require therapy after each instance, and a period of six months before another instance,” said Merlin. “Our jobs are about saving the world, Gary Unwin. We do the things that others can’t. We step into the role of the bad guy, because sometimes, you have to be the bad guy to balance out the world. We topple regimes, we blow up heads, we instill fear. This is not a job people thank us for.

“But we do it because we have to. If we hadn’t, Valentine would have killed off half of the population. Or there would be ten preschoolers still hidden in a warehouse in Wales, suffering.”

The last reference had Eggsy blinking. Ten preschoolers? When –

His first torture mission.

It felt like ages ago.

“That’s different,” said Eggsy.

“In what way?”

“Those were children.”

“I could make the argument, Eggsy, that most missions you go on have some indirect connection to children. By saving the mansion, didn’t you ensure each employees’ survival, thus allowing them to go home and take care of their family?”

Eggsy blew out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, okay, I get that, Merlin. But today I just shot a man in the head for backing up my ex-stepfather.”

“Why did you go after your stepfather?”

“Because he was about to countersue for guardianship of Daisy!”

“Ah. So you were protecting Daisy.”

“Wha – no, that’s not… I mean… Fuck you, Merlin. He was a civilian. A civilian. I didn’t need to kill him.”

“Kingsman has been responsible for a great many civilian deaths. This is hardly the first time you’ve killed a civilian. It won’t be the last. I won’t pretend that we do isn’t hard, Eggsy. But you knew walking in what you were getting into. You knew the day Amelia pretended to die what the risks were. What’s really bothering you?”

Eggsy was silent.

“Is it that this death was personal?”

“Sure,” said Eggsy, even though that wasn’t it.

Merlin probably heard the lie in his voice, but he said, firmly, “Agents sometimes have to defeat their personal demons to continue on with their lives. There would probably be corrective action if I didn’t think this was warranted, but I watched you sit on the stand and say that your stepfather abused you. The system doesn’t always work.”

“Now we’re talking vigilantism.”

Merlin barked out a laugh. “What do you think we are, really, Eggsy? We aren’t government-affiliated. We aren’t sanctioned. We’re Kingsman.”

“We’re fucked up, is what we are.”

“Now you’re getting it. We’re fucked up in every way imaginable, but we get by. And save the world while getting by.”

Eggsy laughed, startled, the sound torn from him. The laugh kept tumbling out, just ringing in the empty metallic-looking foyer for the bullet train. JB licked under his chin, startled, while Merlin patiently waited for his laughing fit to end.

“Harry hit me,” said Eggsy, apropos of all of fucking nothing, the laughter still lurking on his lips.

“Agents do that,” said Merlin, a slight bit of confusion in his voice.

“No. He hit me.”

“Oh. Oh. Fucking Harry.”

“I don’t know what to do about it.”

“My recommendation is to hit the fucker back.”

Another laugh from Eggsy’s lips. “It’s not that easy, guv. I guess he didn’t technically hit me, he just kinda choked me. But after he did it, I wondered – am I like my mum? Am I in a relationship that’s bad for me?”

“The only person who can really determine that is you, Eggsy.”

“I don’t know, and that’s the problem.” Eggsy was distracted for a moment – JB kept trying to adjust in his shirt, so Eggsy pulled the dog out and set him down. It only took a moment for JB to trot across the floor to the desecrated ottoman and start sniffing at it. Eggsy could tell JB was trying to debate whether or not to pee on it again.

“Eggsy?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. It’s just that Harry… he’s…”

JB burped from across the room while Eggsy let his head thud back against the train.

“Harry Hart,” said Merlin, slowly, “is one of our best agents. He knows what he’s doing. But I’ll be the first one to say that he’s… Well. He’s seen some things, Eggsy, and he’s done a lot more. He’s so used to this industry that perhaps he’s internalized more of it than he should have. He choked you during the invasion, yes? Well, he was adrenaline-fueled, not thinking clearly, and in the mindset of violence. Plus, he had other things on his mind.”

“You knew about his involvement, then?”

Eggsy could hear Merlin shuffling papers on the other line. “Plausible deniability, Eggsy. I know nothing.”

Eggsy shook his head. Merlin was a terrible liar. “That doesn’t excuse it, bruv.”

“No. No, it doesn’t, not even close. I don’t think there’s an excuse in the world you can use to erase something like that. Have you talked to Harry about it?”

“I, uh. Sorta destroyed part of his home trying to talk to him about it.”

There was a muted sound on the phone. Eggsy realized that Merlin had put his hand over the speaker to muffle the sound of laughter.

“Damn it, Merlin, it ain’t funny! None of this is funny!”

“Right,” said Merlin, the humor not quite faded from his voice. “Not funny at all. I wasn’t laughing.”

Across the room, JB snorted, like he didn’t believe Merlin either. “You’re so full of shit.”

“At least you can give Harry a run for his money,” said Merlin. “Jesus fucking Christ, I don’t know how I manage with you people.”

“None of this is funny!” reiterated Eggsy, but he was sorta laughing now too. It was that broken-sounded, tangled laugh, but it was a laugh all the same. Because, yeah. He had put his foot through Harry’s telly, for God’s sake. There came a point where you just had to laugh about it. “Damn it, Merlin, quit making me laugh. I still feel bad.”

“Yeah, that feeling won’t go away for a while,” said Merlin, the laughter finally fading from his voice. “Believe me. I’ve been there. But the first step is standing up, collecting your dog, and getting on that train. I can’t do anything else for you right now.”

Eggsy teetered on the edge of a precipice. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it, to just walk away. To not get on the train. Eggsy wasn’t talking about killing himself (he didn’t think, right? …Right.), but just not jumping through these hoops. Merlin was full of shit, anyway, wasn’t he?

Eggsy could take care of himself. Why did he even come this way?

And he didn’t feel that bad.

Right?

Right. He didn’t feel bad.

Not at all.

He didn’t feel bad.

Shit, no matter how many times Eggsy repeated it in his head, there was still this consuming, choking feeling in his throat. He realized, abruptly, he was trembling so badly that the phone was a step away from being flung from his hand. Not good.

“Eggsy?”

Eggsy set down the phone.

He could hear Merlin repeat, louder and more insistent, “Eggsy? Eggsy? Please answer me. I’m requesting an answer right now. Eggsy?”

He ran both hands through his hair. He didn’t want to talk to Merlin. He didn’t. He wanted –

…well, not to hurt himself, per se. He just didn’t want to be unharmed. He wanted some physical proof of pain. He wanted the world to know, while simultaneously being horrified at the thought of the world knowing. He wished he didn’t think this way. He wished he understood what he was thinking. Everything was so tangled, and so weird, and fuck, fuck, fuck, Eggsy wasn’t sure what he was about to do –

Because – it was just that – Eggsy didn’t know how to explain it… How do you explain when your mind is talking circles around itself, and you want the world to understand, but you know the world won’t understand, so you talk yourself in and out and in and out, and pretty soon you’re on these weird tangents where the thought never ends, and you just wish you could stop thinking, or have someone rip the thoughts from your mind, but then you think that it’s okay to have these thoughts they’re normal, but then you realize that they’re not normal but wait are they and it’s all confusing and how does it work –

Eggsy sucked in a sharp breath and raised the trembling hand to his mouth. The coolness of his hand felt super-charged against his heated skin.

What should he do?

His mind wasn’t in a bad place, was it?

Just –

Wasn’t Merlin being dramatic –

Wasn’t Eggsy being dramatic? Surely this wasn’t bad –

Nothing was that bad because it’s not like he had hurt anyone –

Oh fuck now his thoughts were spiraling downwards again –

And Eggsy just

didn’t

know

what

A tinkling sound came from across the room.

Eggsy looked up. JB had his leg lifted and was peeing on the ottoman again.

“JB! No!” he said, sternly, but both words came out weakly. He placed trembling hands on the floor and gave a half-hearted attempt to stand. JB finished up and waddled away from the puddle. He meandered over to the mirror and, when he saw himself in it, he twitched in horror. He started barking at his own reflection.

Eggsy realized he was laughing. It was hysterical and out of control, but it was untangling the knots in his chest. He dropped his face into his hands, chuckling and chuckling and chuckling.

His dog…

His stupid little dog…

…maybe just saved him.

Because how could he ever leave stupid little JB behind? Stupid, brilliant JB. He couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t leave him, or his sister, or any of them.

He couldn’t.

“Right,” said Eggsy, picking up the phone. His tone was all sorts of fucked-up but he figured that Merlin would understand. “I’m getting on the train, Merlin.” He ignored the soft, relieved cursing on the other side. Eggsy still felt off-kilter, like his emotions hadn’t been packed away in their proper places, but he stood up all the same. “JB, come here!”

JB sat down, because he sometimes got his commands mixed up. Eggsy sighed and walked over to him. JB startled, and yipped, and ran to the ottoman. He looked up and grinned, like Eggsy should be proud of the puddle of piss. Eggsy frowned and walked towards him again, and then JB ran between his legs.

“Wha – JB, we are not playing right now! This is not a happy moment!”

JB wagged his curly tail, giving Eggsy a snot-filled look before doing his pug-waddle to the entrance of the train. Eggsy rolled his eyes and followed the dog, only to be foiled by JB barking and dancing around him.

“JB, no, bad dog,” said Eggsy, trying to catch JB.

JB had other plans. He started running in circles around Eggsy, barking happily.

“Why do you only run when I don’t want you to?” asked Eggsy, honestly befuddled, distracted from his thoughts. “I can’t figure you out.”

JB sped past Eggsy and into the train, jumping up on Eggsy’s usual seat. Eggsy stepped inside, too, and the doors instantly closed (Merlin must still be watching, because the train started moving without Eggsy’s command).

He sat down next to JB. JB whined and began trying to heave his little body over the armrest separating them. Eggsy sighed and picked up the dog, settling him in his lap. JB gave Eggsy an adoring look before snorting a little and settling down.

“You’re a character,” Eggsy let the dog know. JB didn’t even pick his head back up.

Eggsy was okay with that. He ran his hands over the prickly fur, scratching JB behind his ears. JB let out a happy sigh and burrowed more into Eggsy’s lap.

Eggsy buried his face into JB’s fur. “Thanks, JB,” he whispered.

Merlin met him outside the bullet train. He didn’t even have his clipboard with him, giving the impression that he had hurried from his office to the train just for Eggsy. Eggsy appreciated that, so very much.

Gruff Merlin swung an arm around Eggsy’s shoulders. “Let’s go, yeah?” he said. Merlin escorted him personally to the therapist.

He sat in the therapist’s office for what seemed to be hours, just talking and talking and talking.

And, just like that, he had taken the first step. He had gotten on the train.

Of course, when there was one good thing – one potentially life-losing crisis averted – the world wasn’t in the habit of cutting him breaks.

He opened up the door of his flat, feeling emotionally vacant and barren after all of the talking. His mum was standing in the sitting room, hugging Daisy fiercely and looking wilted under Lydia’s stern gaze.

At the click of the open door, she turned to Eggsy, her gaze a little wild. “This girl ain’t got no right to judge me,” she said, sounding hysterical. “I just wanna hold her. I ain’t gonna do nothing.”

“Okay,” soothed Eggsy – or he meant to, anyway. His voice sounded flat. “Okay, we get it, mum.”

“I wanna get clean. I wanna enjoy my life. I wanna sleep knowing I’m not in danger. I want my daughter back. I want my son back.”

“You’ve got me, mum. You’ve had me this whole time.”

But Michelle was shaking her head. She hadn’t bothered putting on anymore make-up – probably guessing that this was going to happen.

“I can’t do this,” she said, agony in her voice. She handed Daisy off to Lydia, who promptly backed away and into another room. “I can’t do this, Eggsy.”

“It’s okay,” said Eggsy, moving forward a few cautious steps. Michelle skittered away. This wasn’t her normal behavior under the influence – was this withdrawal? Something else? Eggsy had no idea.

Maybe it was just Michelle breaking down.

“I can’t be here,” said Michelle, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake.”

“It weren’t a mistake, mum. Now I know you’re okay. Where you’ve been.”

Michelle wiped away tears. “I meant it when I say I didn’t come for you, Eggsy. You and me, we’re… we’re not good anymore, baby. We’ve hurt each other too much.”

“I never meant to hurt you, mum.”

“I never meant to hurt you, either.”

They stared at each other for long moments, before Eggsy opened his arms. His mum rushed into them, burying her face in his collarbone.

“I’d tear down the world for you and Daisy,” said Michelle. “But I can’t tear it down when I’m already torn up myself.”

“I know, mum. I know.”

“I ain’t broken,” she said, stepping out of Eggsy’s arms. “I’m just… I’m just not the best I can be, right now. And I’m gonna change that.”

“Mum.” Eggsy took a deep breath, trying to find the words. “You know I support you. Just go and take care of yourself, yeah? You never really took care of yourself after dad died. You were always too busy making sure I was okay. It’s your turn. I want you to be happy. We can fix what’s between us later. Just… please.”

Michelle nodded, still tearful. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and like that, disappeared from his flat, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

Eggsy pulled it shut and rested his forehead on the door. He had an ache in him, like there was a missed opportunity there or something. Like he should have hugged his mother tighter and figured out a way to fix what was between them.

But he didn’t know what else he could do. He wasn’t in the right state to have done anything else.

The whisper of fabric announced Lydia’s return to the room. Eggsy turned around, tired. She was still holding Daisy.

“She gone?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Eggsy, making grabby-hands for Daisy. Lydia promptly handed her over, and Eggsy hummed a small tune, swaying with Daisy.

“How do you think the guardianship battle will go?”

“Well,” said Eggsy. “I think I just won it. Dean’s out of the picture and Michelle is voluntarily waiving her rights.”

Lydia nodded sharply.

“Still gotta go to court,” said Eggsy. “But… it’s really over.”

“Still have to go to the doctor for her tomorrow, though, right?”

“Yeah,” said Eggsy, looking down at Daisy. “But she’s been better lately, right?”

“We’ll see what the doctor says,” said Lydia, cryptically.

Eggsy nodded. It was late afternoon, but the only thought in Eggsy’s mind was lying in bed and spending the rest of the day recovering.

And the sleep treated him well. He wasn’t much better, by any means – it would take a lot of work to get to where he once was – but it was like his batteries were recharged and he was ready to face the day. Or, at least as ready as he could be.

The next morning found Eggsy back in the mansion. He was meticulously taking down Daisy’s artwork from his walls. He had a therapy session in two hours and he wanted to redecorate his office beforehand (though he had time – apparently he was benched “for just a bit, lad.”)

“You know there won’t be another invasion,” said Harry.

Eggsy looked up. Harry was leaning against the doorjamb, a study in nonchalance. Harry nodded towards the stack of pictures. “You don’t need to take those down.”

“Makes me feel safer, knowing they won’t know about her.”

Harry shrugged. “No one else will get in here.”

“Unless you say.”

“Eggsy.”

Eggsy stood up, cracking his back. “Look, Harry. I’m not sure I can have this conversation yet.”

“That’s fine –” Harry cut himself off from whatever he was going to say. He seemed distracted by something going on down the hallway.

Eggsy pushed past Harry rather roughly to see Bedivere down the hallway. Bedivere had his phone pressed to his ear, and he was saying, “I’m coming to you now.” His voice had an urgent tone to it while he turned a corner and disappeared.

Something – some emotion – stirred in Eggsy. He ignored Harry while he set off down the hallway. He turned the corner, and another, until he was outside of Victoria’s now-ex-office. The door was wide open (the first time Eggsy had seen it that way) and the insides were nearly bare.

In the middle of the room stood Victoria and Bedivere. Bedivere had Victoria folded into his arms, and her face was buried in in his shoulder. He was saying, repeating, “It’s okay. They don’t matter. They don’t matter.”

Victoria muttered something that Eggsy couldn’t quite make out. Bedivere placed a hand on the back of her head and rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“Sh, sh,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. They don’t matter.”

There was a slight rustle behind him, and Eggsy knew that Harry had followed him. He almost didn’t have the heart to break up the moment, but it felt… sacrilegious, somehow, to stand there and watch. It wasn’t a moment meant for him and Harry. He felt like an interloper.

Eggsy coughed, and they broke apart.

“Oh, excellent,” said Bedivere. His face creased in annoyance. “Just who I want to see.”

Victoria turned away for a moment. Eggsy thought he saw tears on her face, but when she turned back, she looked the same as ever. No redness in her eyes, no nothing. She did sniffle slightly, but that was the only other indication that she was – in any way – affected by something.

Victoria picked up a box and headed towards the door. She had a determined set to her jaw, like she was gritting her teeth, and she studiously did not look at Eggsy as she came toward him. Eggsy politely stepped aside to let her through. And then it occurred to him –

This was it. This was the final showdown, the last he would see of Victoria Willoughby.

“I don’t get it,” Eggsy burst out, before she could get too far down the hallway. “Was it all just because of your brother? That’s the only reason?”

Victoria stopped in the middle of the hallway. There was silence for a few moments, before she turned back around. Her face was blank. “You’re rubbish, Unwin. Through and through. If you would just acknowledge that, then maybe you would understand that I treated you exactly as you deserved.”

“I never deserved any of that,” said Eggsy. “I didn’t. And, okay. Maybe I’m not perfect. But you know what?” Eggsy smiled, and said, satisfaction curling in his chest, “Only one of us is employed.”

Victoria grimaced. She looked over his shoulder – she must be looking at Bedivere. After exchanging a look with him, she then fixed her beady eyes on Eggsy. “Well, that happens when people pity you.”

“Really?” said Eggsy softly. He was feeling something weird – oh, wow, he was feeling sorry for her. That’s… not what he expected. Well then.

That changed things.

“Because, honestly, I kinda pity you. You’ll never understand, will you? And you gotta go through your whole life like this. That’s so sad. Just so sad.”

“Save it,” she snapped. She lifted her chin up. The red lipstick, the toffee-colored pantsuit, the French braid… it was like she was the exact same as when she started the first day. She hadn’t changed a bit, while Eggsy felt like he had evolved so much. “I’m better than you. I’ll always be better than you.”

Behind him, Harry said, ice in his voice, “You’re better than no one. You’re incompetent and unable to retain a single job.”

Victoria gaped at him. “How dare you!”

“Oh, pardon me,” said Harry. “I didn’t realize you were intelligent enough to understand that was an insult.”

Eggsy reached out and put a pacifying hand on Harry’s arm. He could speak for himself.

He opened his mouth –

And abruptly realized that he had already moved on with his life. Victoria would probably never change. She would go through life convinced of her own superiority. Ego-wise, that wasn’t a bad way to live, living with the lie that you were always right. But then came the fall: the moment when you were reminded that you weren’t omnipotent, that you could mess up, too. And when you were convinced of your superiority, that fall was long and harsh. It led to sad hugs in stripped offices, and who wants to end up there?

No, Eggsy was happy with where he was. He wasn’t perfect. Hell, he needed to go to therapy soon. He might have another incident like the one near the bullet train. Maybe another panic attack.

But at least he was actively addressing his issues.

He knew that when he thought of Victoria any time after this, this is how he would remember her. Standing in the middle of the hallway, the last box of her possessions clutched in her hands, thoroughly beaten but still fighting back. But fighting not because it was the right thing to do, but because even when she had lost, she was too scared to admit her faults.

He would feel sorry for her.

So he smiled and said, “Goodbye, Victoria. I wish you the best. Stay well.”

Her cheeks pinked. “You’re a nothing and a nobody. And you always will be.”

Eggsy smiled again and turned away. He brushed by Bedivere, who looked inscrutable, and went back down the hallway. He could feel Harry following him.

Maybe Victoria had gotten the last word there. He got no remorse from her, nothing. But – oddly enough – he felt good about that encounter. It settled something in him.

Because, in the end, Victoria had to live with her own poison. That was for her to deal with, not Eggsy. She was out of his life and he had better things to focus on.

Like the weight of Harry’s hand as it settled on the small of Eggsy’s back.

“I’m still angry at you,” he said.

“I know,” said Harry. They stepped back into Eggsy’s office and Eggsy gathered up Daisy’s pictures, paper clipping them together and sliding them in a folder to take home. He would hang them up in his room.

While Eggsy was gathering his things, Harry stepped over to his desk. He picked up the paperweight he had given Eggsy so long ago as a welcoming present, and stared at the selfie they had taken together.

“What you said about me during the trial,” Harry said, then he hesitated.

“About the hand-holding and the mornings and stuff?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

Harry shook his head. “You don’t understand what that meant to me. I’ve never had anyone say anything remotely like that. The only other serious relationship I’ve been in went…” Harry stared up at the ceiling. “Sour. It went sour. His name was Duncan, and… He was the one who burned me.”

The faltering quality of the speech made Eggsy give Harry his full attention. He had never seen Harry this shaky before.

“Never mind that,” Harry said. “It’s not important.”

“Do you still love him?” Eggsy asked, not out of jealousy, but curiousity.

Harry stared at the window, idly flipping the paperweight over in his hand. “Never mind that,” he said, which gave Eggsy his answer well enough. “I just want to say. I’ll drink any tea you make.”

“Harry,” breathed Eggsy, recognizing the confession for what it was.

“Even though it tastes terrible,” said Harry, trying to break the moment.

“I can’t trust you, Harry,” said Eggsy.

“I can’t trust you either.”

“Where does that leave us? When you have a relationship with no trust? What does that mean?”

Harry set down the paperweight and finally looked at Eggsy. “Do we really need trust, you and I?”

“Doesn’t every couple?”

“Eggsy, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had a relationship like this before. I don’t think we should be defined by the way other couples act. We shouldn’t let the examples of others dictate our own actions here. How do you feel, Eggsy? What do you want?”

Eggsy closed his eyes. “I want to be with you, Harry.” He opened them back up, and bravely said with eye contact, “But you aren’t the best for me.”

Something like a smile curled Harry’s lips. “And do you think you’re the best for me? Eggsy, you come with an amazing amount of baggage for someone your age. And every time I look at you, I feel deep guilt for what happened with Lee. I have no idea what to talk about with you sometimes because you’re so young, and you haven’t lived through what I’ve lived through. You get judgmental when I do something you don’t approve of, and I hate the feeling of disapproval from someone I’m so fond of. I feel like I can’t keep up with you half the time, and the other half of the time I’m just barely keeping up. You don’t make me feel great about myself, Eggsy.”

That rocked Eggsy to his core. He had no idea. None.

“You hit me,” Eggsy said, simply.

Harry tilted his head. “Yes. I did. I’m not making excuses, but, to be fair, Eggsy, I was rather stressed at the time because of the invasion. There’s also the fact that I’ve seen you undergo much worse – you’re trained in torture resistance. I thought it a good way to get my point across. I was wrong,” he emphasized when Eggsy opened his mouth, “and I won’t do it again.”

“See, here’s where trust would be nice,” said Eggsy, softly.

There was silence for long moments.

“We could give it another chance,” said Harry.

“It’s going to be hard work,” said Eggsy. “And if you even come close to hitting me…”

“Of course,” said Harry, but a smile was breaking across his face. He bounded forward – as much as Harry might bound – and swept Eggsy up into a hug.

Eggsy had so many misgivings about this. How many times had his mother said, ‘we can try once more, but if you hit me again…’ He wondered if he was following in those footsteps. He was so, so scared. Everything was scaring him recently.

But he hugged Harry, and it felt right, and for once, Eggsy shut off his brain and just felt.

After the talk with Harry, he went to one more therapy session, where the therapist was a neutral about the resolution with Harry. Then he went home and picked up Daisy.

Sitting in the doctor’s office was surreal, especially after yelling at him the last time. He went through the normal tests with Daisy while Eggsy bounced a knee up and down in an uncomfortable plastic chair. He was anxious to hear the doctor’s diagnosis about Daisy’s potential condition.

When it was all over, Eggsy took Daisy home. Lydia was waiting on the couch. An episode of the 1970’s show Wonder Woman was playing. When Eggsy walked in the door, she jumped up and held out her hands for Daisy. Eggsy didn’t hand her over.

“Well?” asked Lydia, slightly impatiently. “What did the doctor say?”

“Don’t matter,” said Eggsy, bouncing Daisy. Daisy squeed happily.

“What do you mean?”

“It don’t matter what the doctor said. Daisy’s perfect the way she is.”

Lydia’s face fell. She didn’t look annoyed, necessarily, but like she was maybe a little tired of Eggsy’s shit. “Okay. Yes. I get that. But did the doctor have anything to say about her condition? Any disabilities?”

“She’s perfect,” Eggsy repeated. He gave Daisy a sloppy kiss on her cheek, to which she threw her hands up in delight.

Lydia sighed. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you.”

“It don’t matter,” said Eggsy. “Because she’s perfect.”

Lydia grumbled something and walked away. Eggsy began a little dance with Daisy in the middle of the room, just spinning a little while Daisy laughed and laughed. He loved her laugh. In the background, Wonder Woman rode a skateboard after a bad guy. He could hear JB’s huffing in another room; really, he must be trying to walk somewhere.

He threw her up in the air. She screamed in delight and laughed while Eggsy peppered her cheeks with kisses.

And, in that moment, right there in his sitting room, it hit him:

He didn’t need to know anything about love. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the bright, warm feeling that blossomed every time Daisy laughed. The way his heart tugged when Harry was near him. The way every molecule in his body vibrated with joy when Ryan was nearby, or Jamal, or Roxy. The way he still wanted to sit on the couch with his mum and watch a black and white movie with her.

Maybe he didn’t know, exactly, what love was. But Eggsy was okay with that, because when he smiled at Daisy and she smiled back, he knew that everything in the world was going to turn out okay. Was love close to that feeling? The only answer he had: it didn’t matter. Because he had those feelings, and it was so worth it.

He knew the beauty of those feelings, and fuck anything else.

He felt.

He stood there forever, just holding Daisy. He had stopped dancing long ago, instead just clutching her, needing her near him. He was broken of this reverie when a knock sounded at his door.

It swung open without Eggsy’s prompting and Ryan came in, grinning. “Ay-yo, hope I’m not interrupting!”

“Never,” said Eggsy, and was surprised to find tears in his voice when he said that. He reached up to find two tear tracks on his face. Weird. He hadn’t even known he was crying. He wiped them away while Ryan seemed unphased by the tears.

“Funny thing happened today,” said Ryan. He set down a duffel bag. “With my dad. Where I can’t go back to my flat. And I know you’re behind it, you fucking prick. So. I’m moving in here.”

Eggsy laughed, still off-kilter. “My mum just stayed in her room for a bit. Lemme make sure she didn’t put any traps in there and lemme change the sheets.”

“I’m angry at you!” Ryan sing-songed after him, but the way he was settling into the couch and turned on the telly suggested otherwise.

“Tell it to someone who cares!” Eggsy called back.

“Prick!”

Eggsy did a quick change of the sheets and came back out, carrying the laundry. Ryan had made himself at home, somehow finding a bag of crisps and a Red Bull.

“So,” said Ryan while Eggsy puttered about, “I don’t have a job. Hope you ain’t expecting rent money.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes at Ryan. “I make enough money, dipshit, I don’t need any from you.”

“But I been thinking,” said Ryan. “Maybe I’ll try and get a job. Alfie mentioned that there’s an opening with a paper nearby. Need a copy writer. I could try writing, yeah?”

“You can barely talk!”

“Fuck you too,” said Ryan. Eggsy laughed and made a few calls and got Ryan an interview, despite Ryan bitching the whole time how he didn’t need Eggsy’s help.

Eggsy settled in next to Ryan. “Now, I thought you were supposed to be released tomorrow.”

“Fuck that,” said Ryan, popping a crisp into his mouth. He crunched on it loudly in Eggsy’s face until Eggsy whacked his shoulder. Then he gulped and said, “Couldn’t stand it a moment longer. Checked myself out early.”

“That’s not healthy!”

Ryan pulled out a horn and stuck it in his ear. “What did you say?”

“Damn it, Ryan, that’s not even the ear close to me.”

“What? What?”

The door opened again – Roxy, this time, trotting in. “I’m hungry,” she said, surveying the scene.

Ryan, panicked, thrust the horn underneath a nearby blanket. In no way subtle, he crossed his legs and gave Roxy a grin. She didn’t react, but Eggsy suspected that was so she could calmly take it from under the blanket when Ryan was distracted.

“Roxy, I’m not going to feed you every meal,” said Eggsy.

Kay poked his head in after. “I hear there’s food here?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“It’s okay,” said Kathy, pushing past Kay. “I’m making a quiche. It’ll be great.” She set down two grocery bags and began to bang pots in his kitchen.

“What the fuck is going on,” said Eggsy as Howard came in as well.

“Uh, I invited everyone over,” said Roxy. “Sorry. Hope that’s okay.”

Eggsy laughed, because he actually didn’t mind that much. “I don’t have much room. I barely have room for just you, me, and Ryan.”

The door opened once more and Jeeves stood in the doorway, looking a little unsure. Ruby peered over his shoulder, carrying a bottle of wine.

“How many did you invite?” asked Eggsy, startled. He got up and began to collect Daisy’s toys from the floor, embarrassed.

A moment later, Salomea burst past Jeeves and Ruby and said, “Is Daisy here?” When she spotted Daisy on the floor clutching her stuffed parrot, she made a pleased noise and sat next to her. “There you go, dear, don’t let your daddy take that away from you. That parrot is the best toy you have, don’t let that crazy man tell you any different.”

Eggsy gave up and dropped the toys back on the ground. Caradoc settled in next to Salomea – wait, what the fuck, when did Caradoc get there? – and a hand wound through Eggsy’s.

Harry grinned down at him. “I can get rid of them, if it’s too much,” he whispered.

“Not much room here.”

“There’s plenty of room,” said Harry. There was a lot of noise going on – Kathy and Howard seemed to be having some sort of tiff in the kitchen, something about Howard having “ice cold hands, Jesus, don’t touch me you dick!” even though she kept letting him put his arms around her, while Salomea and Caradoc loudly played with Daisy. Kay was ushering Roxy into a seat, saying something about a new card game he had learned. Ryan was in the mix, trying to steal Roxy’s attention from Kay.

Alcohol bottles were cracked – who brought the vodka? – and people began to mix drinks. Jeeves protested for a good twenty minutes about not drinking before finally giving in and taking a drink. He spent the rest of the night snarking at various people. At one point, when Ruby was terribly tipsy, she giggled at him, “I bet I’m a better driver than you!” To which Jeeves hummed, gave her a slightly pitying look, and walked away. Eggsy had forgotten how much he loved Jeeves.

It seemed to be a celebration of everything: toasts were made to Victoria being fired, toasts were made to Eggsy. When people got tipsy, toasts were made to other things, like Kay’s uncanny ability to always lose his glasses and Salomea’s spot-on Sean Connery impression. Howard made a drunken toast to his wife’s beauty. Someone made a silly toast to Harry’s beautiful collarbones (it was Eggsy).

Merlin made a quick cameo. As soon as he entered someone toasted to his bald head, and everyone yelled and cheered and drank to that. Merlin sighed, beleaguered, and left them rather quickly afterwards.

Through it all, Eggsy laughed, and had fun, and felt deep feelings for his coworkers.

Eggsy and Harry ended up on the couch sitting next to each other. Harry smiled at him, looking content. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” said Eggsy, honestly.

Harry intertwined his fingers in Eggsy’s. Eggsy smiled, and held on.

Notes:

More than the promised 90,000 words, but I guess that’s what editing does to you.
Before you ask – no, there is not going to be a sequel. I’ve got a couple of ideas of stories for the future, maybe some even set in this universe, but for now we’re done with Lagavulin and Guinness.
HOWEVER, I do give pretty much blanket permission. A couple of people have asked if they could do artwork for this story – the answer is yes, absolutely. You can also do a podfic, or even rework the story (or write your own sequel). Just let me know and I’ll even try to figure out how to link it to the end of this story (not that familiar with AO3 yet, I’ll get there). That way other people can enjoy it too.
As of right now, I do not have a tumblr to direct you guys over to. That might change in the future. Dunno. I'll update this note if that does change.
I have a lot of thank-yous to give. I literally got to number #12 and realized I needed to stop it. So I'll keep it simple: Thank you to everyone who read this. <3
Comments, criticisms, and flames all welcome and encouraged.
Thank you!!! I hope you enjoyed Lagavulin and Guinness.

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