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Harry had thought he was doing so well.
This week had just been one step forward after another.
He’d watched Kingsman in the theatre with Merlin (there had been violence and action scenes and everything! He'd only gripped the seat a little,) he’d gone jogging in the park wearing his headphones (he had set foot out of his house while blocking his hearing! And he hadn't had a panic attack!)
He’d even gone to dinner with the wife and child of his late partner, Robert…it had been a bit awkward to begin with, since Olivia had been averse to Harry’s involvement in her and her child’s life after Robert hadn’t come home. It wasn’t easy to see the face of the man carrying your husband’s dogtags and think ‘yes, this herald of death is who I wish to see often, particularly around my daughter’. But he was still Robert’s best friend, and he was Roxy’s godfather. And perhaps Olivia saw that the dinners weren’t just for herself and Roxy, they were for Harry as well. And Robert had loved Harry too much for her to let him suffer the loss alone.
So they had met for dinner for the first time this week, with the promise of more in the near future. Roxy had saluted him before he left the restaurant with glee and a giggle. It had been an amazing night to end an amazing week.
And now, he was here.
Heart racing, chest heaving in gasps, his knuckles turning bloodless from his grip on the steering wheel. In his rearview mirror, he could see two police officers approaching his car from theirs. The same two that had hailed him after he had swerved violently on the road.
The swerve where he had nearly hit another car, the symphony of frantic beeps making him disoriented.
The swerve he had made while avoiding an IED.
Except it wasn’t, was it?
It wasn’t anything but a bloody plastic bag on a busy London road. He’d been lucky he hadn’t hit anyone. But he had just been so sure, so absolutely sure, that his arm had just reacted, sending his sedan to a screeching sweep across two lanes.
The pain in his chest was getting worse, but it was nothing compared to the shame he felt. How could his face feel drained and burning at the same time? His feet did too.
A knock on his window startled him out of his headspace. “Window down.” One of the officers ordered, looking impatient and less than pleased.
He complied, his breathing still coming in laboured heaves. He handed the officer his license.
“A bit early to be hitting the bottle, don’t you think?” The officer asked, his partner beside him inspecting his records.
“I’m not drunk.” Harry responded quickly. The man’s disbelieving smirk made Harry look away shamefacedly. He wasn’t drunk, he was just fucked up. Perhaps it would have been better to be drunk.
“Harry Hart, yeah?” The other officer asked before subtly leaning forward to get what Harry assumed was supposed to be an imperceptible sniff at Harry’s person. Of course, looking for alcohol. “You say you’re not drunk, you do realise we have to give you a Breathalyser anyways, yeah? Please exit the vehicle.”
“Yes, of course.” He responded and shakily left his seat. He noted the sharp blue eyes of the young officer assessing him, the man’s brows furrowing in concern.
“You alright?” he asked, holding out the Breathalyser.
“Yes, just a little…a little winded.” Harry said quickly, taking the odd looking object.
“Just take a deep breath, blow in there till it beeps,” the officer instructed. Harry did so, taking a look around him as he did so to get his bearings. He was on the side of the road, traffic had resumed as normal without anyone looking at him. The officer’s shirt was emblazoned with the name UNWIN. Officer Unwin, then. The other man had wandered back to the car to take a call or something, but was returning now.
BEEP
Harry startled a little and handed the device back to Officer Unwin.
“Alright….so you aren’t drunk.” Officer Unwin mused, looking a bit worried.
“Oh, yeah?” the other officer asked. “Well, your license checks out, so mind telling us why you swerved like that?”
Harry wasn’t sure how to explain. Would they take away his license if he mentioned the plastic bag? Would they consider that as hallucinations?
“You hiding some kind of disability?” the officer pressed on.
Harry started at the accusation, blinking a little before stammering out “N-no, not a …I don’t have a-”
“Epilepsy, maybe?”
“No.”
“Tourette’s?”
“No! I don’t have-”
“Parkinson’s, then?”
“I saw a bag!”
“You saw a bag?"
"A-a bag on the road."
"Was the bag real?” the officer asked snidely, and Harry was about ready to weep. This was quickly becoming a worst case scenario, till he looked at officer Unwin and in that moment, he saw a click, like a puzzle piece had fallen into place.
“Ryan, stop.” Officer Unwin instructed.
“Eggs,” he persisted, before a look from Unwin caused him to quiet down.
“Give us a moment.”
‘Ryan’ shrugged and walked off a little ways, calling out ‘”Ticket him!” over his shoulder.
Officer Unwin cleared his throat. “From the top. You saw a bag. Go on.”
Harry took a deep breath, leaning on the car as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.
He tried to get it straight, the words he was meaning to say, and all he managed was “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. You saw a bag.”
Harry nodded. “I saw a plastic bag.”
The pause was reassuring and Harry soldiered on, looking Officer Unwin in the eye.
“I saw a plastic bag. On the road. I thought it was an IE-Uhm, an improvised explosive device. I reacted. I shouldn’t have…”
“When did you get back?”
Harry pondered the question, did some quick maths in his head. “Nearly half a year now.”
Officer Unwin nodded. “Your hands are shaking. Do you think you can drive home?”
“Yes. Yes I can.” Harry answered with more confidence in his voice than he felt in himself at the moment.
“Alright then. Take your time.” Officer Unwin fiddled with something on a piece of paper. Harry was hoping the fine wouldn’t be unreasonably high, but he knew reckless driving earned at least £100. He deserved as much, though. He knew that.
So he was coloured quite surprised when he was passed his licence and a piece of paper with a phone number and an address scribbled on it.
“That’s my father’s number, James Unwin. He’s not with Veterans UK or anything, he just owns a few bowling alleys and holds his own little meetings at that address for people like him…veterans who came back a few more worries than they signed up for. It’s a good environment, very informal. No stress or judgement. Just…you’d be surprised how much talking to others who understand can really help.”
Harry wasn’t sure what to say…so he just nodded.
Officer Unwin nodded back, walking back to his own car, telling Harry to have a nice day as he went.
After a few moments, Harry got into his car.
He ended up driving to Merlin’s house instead of his own, wanting to just watch some television and eat some carbs and just feel like a proper citizen.
***
Harry was fidgeting at the bulletin board of the community centre, eyes roaming over drama classes, piano recitals and band practice announcements. His wandering eyes were almost exclusively avoiding the flyer that stated the exact time and day for the very meeting that he had come here to attend.
He’d gone an entire month without even looking at the phone number and address in his wallet. It had taken a few nudges from Merlin, and another from Olivia (who had found out the details of the swerve-tastrophe that had occurred that day from Merlin) before he had called the number. The conversation had been short and upbeat, and Harry knew he’d get along just fine with James.
Getting himself to attend had taken another couple of weeks of deep thinking and internal debate.
“Fancy seeing you here.” A familiar voice greeted him.
He turned to see Officer Unwin in some very different clothes. In fact, his tight jeans, snapback, winged Adidas trainers and tracksuit jacket made him look more like some who frequented the wrong side of the law as opposed to upholding it. The shit eating grin wasn’t helping any, either.
“Good to see you here, Harry Hart.” Officer Unwin, hands still in his jacket pockets.
“Officer Unwin.”
‘Officer Unwin’s eyebrows went way up and he gave a cheeky (and somewhat goofy) grin. “Well, there’s a kink I didn’t know I had," he said, eyebrows twitching higher twice, effectively shattering the awkwardness completely as it drew a snort from Harry.
Harry still couldn’t fight the blush on his face, even as he chuckled and held his hand out for a shake.
“Call me Eggsy.” Officer…well, Eggsy said, shaking Harry’s hand.
“Well, Eggsy. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming,” Eggsy responded, his smile turning softer and his eyes seemed aged beyond his years. “I’m glad you’re here. You ready to head in?”
Harry took stock of what he could see through the open door. Everyone inside, all of 3 people, were chatting and laughing about something. They had disposable coffee cups in their hands and were shifting some fold-able chairs around to form a circle.
“Yes. Yes, I think I am.” Harry decided, receiving a wide grin from Eggsy who walked ahead, with nothing more than a head nudge to indicate he expected Harry to follow him.
Yes, Harry decided he was quite ready to try this. He followed Eggsy into what he hoped would be many more steps forward.