Chapter Text
Harry’s world has just crashed down around him. Mordred, second in command in the handler’s division and Eggsy’s primary handler, is standing in front of him and talking, but Harry can’t hear a thing. There’s a roaring in his ears, his pulse stutters, his chest tightens. He’s filled with a feeling of dread, a morbid confidence in knowing that the world will never be okay again. Harry’s world is in ruins at his feet. Mordred is still speaking, but Harry can’t hear a thing. He’d stopped listening after Mordred’s opening statement.
“Arthur, sir, Galahad is dead.”
He knows should look at this as Arthur, Kingsman’s King and Galahad’s superior, not as Harry Hart, Eggsy’s husband of two years. A dark part of him reminds him that he’s Eggsy’s widower now. Harry knows that he should handle this professionally and wait until he’s home to let the sorrow emerge. Gentlemen don’t have emotional breakdowns at work. As much as it hurts, Harry pushes all feelings of Eggsy aside and forces himself to think just as Arthur. Harry busies himself at his desktop, methodically typing out a message to all their agents that there is to be a toast at 1800, GMT time.
“Pardon me, Mordred, I’m afraid I spaced out.” Harry is amazed that his voice doesn’t even waver. “Repeat yourself, if you’d be so kind.”
“Sir, if you’d prefer I debrief to Merlin and get back to you later, I can. I can imagine this is a difficult situation for you,” Mordred offers. Harry glares at him and Mordred continues reluctantly. “What I’d said was: The intel mission went sour due to some unforeseen circumstances. Namely, a mole in the organization we hadn’t known of. Merlin and I were able to find evidence linking a technician to the information leak, but he committed suicide via a cyanide pill when we sent someone to bring him in for interrogation. Merlin and I are searching for any other possible moles, but Galahad… well we weren’t able to extract him from his mission.”
Harry takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. His mouse is hovering over the send button on the message, but he hesitates to click it. It would make it too real. With this message, Harry feels as though he’s signing off on Eggsy’s death certificate. Once the rest of the organization knows, the position of Galahad is officially empty again when it shouldn’t be. Eggsy should have held the title for many, many years to come.
Against his better judgement, Harry turns to Mordred and asks, “And are we positive Galahad is deceased? He… He can hold his own very well, you know.”
Mordred hesitates before he elaborates, “Arthur… He was shot several times and tossed off a train speeding through the Alps. His glasses were lost in the fall, so we’ve no verification on his vitals, but if the bullets didn’t kill him, the fall and the cold surely did.” When Harry gives no sign that he’s heard, Mordred tacks on his condolences. “I’m terribly sorry, sir. We did all we could.”
Harry turns back to his computer and hits send.
----
The messages come pouring in. On one hand, Arthur’s email is filled with confirmations from the knights that they’ll be present at the toast. On the other hand, Harry’s phone is lighting up with personal messages of concern and condolences. Roxy has already sent him five frantic texts, begging for the news to not be true. Merlin has informed him that he’ll be passing by Harry’s house with the strongest alcohol he owns. Percival is off in Turkey for a mission, but he still sends his condolences and asks Harry to keep an eye on Roxy. Tristan, Kay, and Gaheris send message after message, desperate to find out what exactly happened to their friend. Gareth and Lamorak give their condolences and ask for funeral details. The only knights who haven’t sent Harry some sort of expression of pity are the same ones who have yet to receive the news.
On any other occasion, Harry would be ecstatic. These last few years, since Harry became Arthur, they’ve become more like a family than ever before. This right here is all the proof Harry needs of that. But right now it just feels taunting. Eggsy, with his charm and incessant friendliness, had been a big part of creating the familial feel between them. That this bond should be so obvious now that Eggsy’s dead has to be nothing short of the fates laughing down at Harry.
Harry gets up and serves himself the strongest liquor his office’s bar has to offer.
----
“To Galahad.”
The knights are gathered around the table, taking a drink in Eggsy’s memory. The other knights are considerate enough to ignore Harry’s red eyes and splotchy skin from crying recently. Roxy’s sobbing, however, is harder to ignore, but even that just earns her a few awkward pats on the back. Sorrow and heartbreak permeates through the table. Losing an agent is bad enough, but losing one so young, not even thirty yet, is leaps and bounds worse. After the brandy is drunk, the agents hover awkwardly. No one ever says anything at toasts – that’s what funerals are for – but it feels wrong to just leave their king so bluntly. But then Harry dismisses them stiffly and one by one, they all either log off or stand up and leave the room.
Roxy and Merlin both stay, despite Harry’s insistence that they leave him alone. Merlin pours out three glasses of scotch and sits down between them with a heavy sigh. Roxy’s sobbing has settled down to the occasional sniffling and she mumbles a soft ‘thank you’ as she takes the glass. Normally she’s not one for drinking, but just after losing her best friend? She could probably drink her way through all of London’s bars. Harry tries to tell Merlin not to pour him a glass, but the protests die when it’s placed in front of him and he downs it in one go.
“It was supposed to be an easy mission… In and out and back by supper,” Roxy mumbles, shaking her head. “How’d that turn into losing him?”
“It’s Kingsman. Nothing’s ever easy. It just seems so and we let our guards down and then we lose good agents,” Merlin mutters. He’s been in this position one too many times.
Harry remains quiet, staring down at his empty glass. He’s trying desperately to remember what the last thing they’d said to one another was when Harry had been sending Eggsy off. A wave of regret crashes over him as he remembers that there isn’t anything to remember. It was like Roxy had said. It was meant to be an easy mission. An intel on a suspicious, but very small and insignificant looking group that called themselves Hydra. Eggsy had been meant to go off in the morning, get the information through the day, and be back by night time. Recons were Eggsy’s specialty. There had been no reason to suspect that things would go sour and therefore, there had been no proper goodbye. And now… Eggsy would never come home again and Harry’s chance to say goodbye is gone forever.
“The last time we talked…” Harry is still staring down at the glass as he thinks back. “It was last night before bed. Talking about dinner tonight. We were trying to decide on takeout for tonight. He… He left before I was awake this morning. And the last time we talked… Last. Fucking. Time. Was to talk about the merits of Chinese or Indian. That’s… fuck. Given our age difference, we’d always assumed our last conversation would be me sharing some sort of elderly wisdom with him in some hospital. Not… talking about takeout.” After everything together, it’s ridiculous that their last conversation be something so normal and dull. Harry almost doesn’t believe it, but the sharp ache in his heart is there to remind him that it’s all horribly true.
“We texted this morning… While he was on his plane. We were planning a shopping trip together…” Roxy shakes her head. “And now he’s gone. God, his mother and sister don’t know yet, do they?”
Harry’s heart was already broken, but now it’s crushed into fine dust. In his own selfish mourning, he hadn’t thought of Michelle and Daisy. Michelle, who had now lost two generations of men to Kingsman, and Daisy, who adored her older brother more than life itself. His hand trembles as he looks over at Merlin. “I can’t. I can’t deliver another medal to that household.”
“It’s all right, Harry. I’ll find someone else to do it,” Merlin assures him. He reaches over to lay a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, but Harry pulls away harshly.
“First her husband and now her son. Merlin, I’ve destroyed that poor woman’s life. I’ve killed off the Unwin line. I’ve taken away a family’s husband and father and brother and son. Fuck. Fuck!”
Merlin and Roxy wisely don’t try to stop him when he smashes his glass against the wall.
-----
Harry avoided his home for days. He hadn’t wanted to go back to a home with no Eggsy and so, had found excuse after excuse to stay at HQ. First, he’d needed to overlook the attempt to retrieve a body. Then he’d been busy with paperwork regarding Eggsy’s passing and coming up with an excuse as to why there was no body to burry (lost underneath the snow, though he couldn’t tell Michelle that.) Later he’d had to overlook the proposal process. After that he’d been busy making funeral arrangements. Finally, Merlin had threatened to put him on an extended medical leave if he didn’t go home and get some rest. So now, Harry is pulling up to his home, entirely against his will.
Harry has only just turned the key in the lock when he hears JB scampering towards the door from across the room. Roxy had been coming over every day to give him his food and water, but Harry knows the little pug is a glutton for cuddles and playtime. Eggsy had spoiled him horribly. Harry takes a moment to collect himself – he refuses to cry because of a dog, absolutely refuses to – and pushes open the door.
Sure enough, JB is there, barking eagerly and jumping up all over him. Harry halfheartedly commands him to stop. JB, predictably, just barks up at him and starts licking his shoe. Harry tries to ignore the dog – and all the unwanted memories of Eggsy that JB resurfaces – as he hangs up his coat. JB finally eases up on jumping on Harry and instead circles around him, obviously looking for something. JB sniffs at the ground and at Harry’s trousers and then goes over to the door, scratching at it and letting out a confused bark. Harry’s heart breaks when he realizes that JB is searching for Eggsy.
“Oh, JB,” Harry sighs and leans down to pick up the pug, not even caring about all the dog hair that will inevitably get all over his suit. He feels stupid talking to a dog that can’t understand him, but Eggsy always did it when JB was frightened or in a panic. “Eggsy… He’s not going to come home anymore. It’s just you and me now, JB.”
JB lets out a confused whine and looks up at Harry with big brown eyes. Harry could almost understand why Eggsy had decided against shooting him. Harry sighs and puts JB back on the floor again, handing him his favorite toy in an effort to distract JB long enough to go upstairs to the bedroom without the pug following at his heel. JB just pushes it away and goes back over to the door. He sits down in front of it and lets out a howl as he scratches at the door. Harry makes the executive decision to just say ‘fuck it’ to the ‘no pugs in the bedroom’ rule and he leans down to pick JB up again and take him upstairs.
JB whines and howls and barks as Harry takes him up the stairs and there isn’t much Harry can do but scratch his ears as soothingly as he could manage. He places JB down on the bed and the pug immediately goes to curl up on Eggsy’s pillow with some soft whining. Harry feels a pang as he sees all of Eggsy’s things scattered about the room. If he had any tears left in him, Harry would most certainly be crying. He feels numb as he takes off his suit and changes into his pyjamas, doing his best to ignore all of Eggsy’s things as he does. He lays down with a huff and tugs the bedsheets tight around him. They still smell like Eggsy. With a pained sigh, Harry reaches forward to tug the crying pug closer to him. He wraps an arm around the dog, scratching his belly to soothe him.
“I know, JB. I know. I miss him too.”