Work Text:
Awareness came slowly. Consciousness was a heavy weight on his chest, one that begged him to stay under, to go back to sleep. But something wasn't right. He pushed against it, fighting the oil-slick darkness pulling him down. An empty gnawing feeling in his stomach was the first thing to get his attention. The next was the all-encompassing numbness that invaded him, the hollow feeling in his chest and stomach like someone had taken his organs out and left him in an empty shell.
The next sensation to trickle through his mind was strange, but not unwelcome. It took Eggsy a few moments to recognise what it was; the gentle tease of fingers on his scalp, a rhythmic petting of his hair, sweeping through from crown to nape. It was… nice. A face formed in his head. Angular, strong, but kind - with a wicked twinkle in dark brown eyes and a smile that sometimes verged on secretive, like he knew something you didn’t. His lips twitched. Contentment washed over him. It was nice.
But… something wasn’t right. That numbness was still gnawing at him. And Harry… He and Harry weren’t… He would have remembered if they…
Eggsy tried to move but his body wouldn’t cooperate. The numbness wasn’t just inside of him, it was everywhere. He couldn’t feel anything. Not his toes, not his fingers. Nothing. Panic seeped in, shattering the image of his deep secret dream and replacing it with a wash of red. Eggsy struggled to shout, to scream, to say anything but all he could force passed his locked vocal chords was a weak, broken moan.
"Ah, there's my little tart."
That languid, honeyed voice against his ear made his heart pound faster in his chest. He fought to open his eyes, battled against the heavy weight to force them open, and when he finally managed to do so he found he couldn’t see clearly. Blurry vision gave him vague shapes bathed in orange-amber glow. Disoriented, panicking, Eggsy pushed and willed his limbs to work but nothing happened.
Dry lips pressed to the skin behind his ear, a nose nuzzled against his hairline, and both sensations he could feel crystal clear. “Just a mild sedative and paralytic. It’ll pass soon.”
Shiiiit. It took all of Eggsy’s energy to swallow against the sudden rise of bile. Snapshots of memories came to him in a jumble - guns, Daisy on the swings, the car, his mum. The last memory that came was seeing that face, that handsome, sophisticated face smiling cruelly at him before his world went black.
Pins and needles started in his left foot and he twitched at the pain, moaned weakly and tried to move away from the wall of heat that he could now feel against his back. His hair stirred with a sudden huff of breath and as feeling came back to him in agonising slowness, he began to catalogue what he could sense around him.
Lying down. Bed? Feels like a mattress, and sheets. Clothes, good sign. Fuck my head! Musta given me sumthin’. Asshole’s fucking spoonin’ me. Can't move or I would have fucking battered him. Can't hear anything. 'cept ticking. Clock somewhere. Vision murky too - that a desk? Nah.. against the wall so prolly not. Where the fuck am I?
"Wha… ‘ou wan'?"
The words were laboured like his breathing, sticky and slurred as he forced them passed lips that wouldn’t move properly. Dull pressure moved from his shoulder, down his arm, settled on his waist. The movement was leisurely; what one would call a soothing caress from a lover. It made Eggsy feel sick. Or was that the drugs?
"Well. That's a very good question."
Fingers slipped from his hair and the bed jostled beneath him, any warmth behind him dissipating as the man moved away. Eggsy relaxed minutely knowing he was free of the touching - for now. He tried to blink the hazy film from his eyes but even blinking seemed to be a chore.
"It's simple, really,” The man said, addressing him in louder tones than the hushed, pseudo-sweet tone he used to murmur into his ear. Good.. that was good. Louder meant Eggsy could track his movements around the room. It meant he could mentally scale the size of it, listening to the way his voice filled the space, bouncing off the walls.
"I want to help people." A shifting of fabric, then silence. "Help them achieve their dreams, their desires. Help them discover who they truly are underneath the bullshit and the lies of the masks they wear every day."
Big room, then. Doesn’t sound too close now. Some more rustling, a quiet squeak, and then the sound of him moving closer again. When he finally came into Eggsy’s line of sight, dressed immaculately in tailored linen trousers and a blue button down shirt, he was carrying a small forest-green leather armchair with him. He set the armchair down next to the bed and sat gracefully, giving Eggsy full view of his strong, handsome face. He’d tanned since the last time Eggsy saw him, the warm olive complexion contrasting with smooth grey eyes and making him even more inviting. His hair was swept back from his face and looked soft and freshly washed and fuck, Eggsy would have been on him like a bitch in heat if he hadn't have been a fucking terrorist scumbag.
"You must know what that's like; wanting to help people. It's your job, isn't it?" He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to Eggsy's, close enough that he could smell his aftershave. Smokey, deep. "My job is to help some people with a project; something big that is going to change the world. They asked me to create something for them. So I’ve worked day and night, crossed continents and oceans to get this work done, and yet…" he reached out, trailed the back of his fingers along Eggsy's cheek. "Everywhere I went, every corner I turned, I found another of your friends breathing down my neck. Do you know how bad that is for business?"
Eggsy jerked back and surprised himself when his head actually moved. Not by much, but it was progress. The pins and needles were worse now, running along both legs and starting in his fingers, but Eggsy welcomed the pain. It meant his body was waking up.
The Chemist smirked and reclined back into the armchair, relaxing in an elegant sprawl that showed off the lean lines of his body under the classic shirt.
"It ruined any prospect of completing my project and that was not something my bosses were happy with. They have a schedule they are not willing to compromise on. So I did some digging of my own and wouldn't you believe it, all roads lead back to you; the little tart I met in Kensington who turned out to be some sort of spy."
Amusement hovered around his mouth as he spoke, eyeing Eggsy like a cat would eye a mouse. But even under the calm, slightly exasperated demeanour he exuded, Eggsy knew there was a simmering danger lying just beneath the surface.
"And you… You were a fascinating subject. Dead father, rough childhood, council estate bastard dressed in tailored suits that cost more than what you would earn in a lifetime.” He cocked his head to the side as he regarded Eggsy, “You were such a marvellous contradiction. I was prepared to visit you again once my work was completed, but since your friends at Kingsman were so keen to find me, I'm afraid they forced my hand.”
Eggsy didn’t react, but something must have shown on his face because the man laughed a little. “Oh yes, sweetheart, I know all about you and your secret organisation, and your little girlfriend.”
Eggsy's heart raced. Strength and feeling were coming back to him slowly but it wasn't enough. The most he could do was twist, move his arms, and when he did he heard a metallic rattle. Moving his head was hard but he managed, glancing down to see the leather cuffs around his wrists, the silver chains attached to what looked like reinforced hoops. Oh shit... He pulled on them as much as his strength would allow, "What the fuck?"
"I've been off the radar for nearly sixteen years." he said, ignoring the outburst. He unfolded himself from the armchair, made his way over to what Eggsy now recognised as a dresser. "I have created art and done deals with Devil's, and it's made me a very wealthy man. Wealthy enough for me to take certain precautions. And then you show up and it all goes up in smoke. Poof!"
He'd poured himself a drink from the square crystal decanter that sat on the dresser, the low light catching the dark amber liquid and making it glow. "Your girlfriend got close a couple of times, closer than I was comfortable with. So of course I had to deal with her first."
Eggsy stopped pulling at the chains. His entire being paused. Fear trickled through his empty stomach along with a fast boiling anger. "What did you do to her?"
The Chemist sipped his drink as he turned, waved his free hand dismissively, "Nothing that would have had any lasting effects.” He smiled warmly, “She would have felt pretty rough for a few days, though.”
The anger shot to boiling point and it was enough to push him through the last of the lethargy. Pain and fear were sharp knives in his gut as he railed against the chains holding him to the bed. He growled and bucked like a wild animal, yanking his limbs back and forth in an effort to get free. "Swear to god, if you've hurt her I'll fucking kill you!"
The condescending smile was gone now, along with all traces of the mask he’d worn from the moment Eggsy came to. The air of exasperation in his tone, in his expressions, had disappeared and in its place was something altogether different. Eggsy, now flat on his back and breathing hard with the exertion of trying to get free, could see the light reflected in the hard eyes now staring at him. No, not staring… His lips were slightly parted, glistening with remnants of Whiskey, and his eyes raked over Eggsy like he was a man dying of thirst. Lust and greed were at war, twisting his face into something unholy, unnatural.
Eggsy didn’t scare easily; he’d met his fair share of bad guys inside and out of Kingsman. He could handle most of what life threw at him. But this… this was something else. Suddenly that fear surged up into his throat, burning like bile. The look on his face would have made lesser men piss themselves, and while Eggsy still had control of his bladder, he was nowhere near to being in control of anything else.
“No, Mon chéri, you won’t.”
The shiver rolled through Eggsy involuntarily. The words were quiet, seductive, and laced with dangerous poison. Like the sharpest blade in a velvet sheath; beautifully soft and razor-blade sharp. Painstakingly slowly he set the cut crystal glass down on the dresser and stalked Eggsy - there was no other word for the prowling gait he displayed as he moved to the other side of the bed.
The cat was no longer playing with the mouse; it was hunting its prey.
“You are in no position to make such threats.” Long fingers trailed down the chains attached to his ankles, his eyes never leaving Eggsy’s. “Now I suggest you make yourself comfortable. You and I are going to get better acquainted as soon as I finish my work.”
It was almost slow-motion, the way he leaned over the bed, and Eggsy’s fight or flight response was screaming in his head to get the fuck out of there but he couldn’t move, and this time it wasn’t the drugs paralysing him. He was frozen, wide eyed as that handsome, twisted face and that chilling smile got ever closer. The best he could do was turn his head when hot breath ghosted over his jaw, the tendons in his neck straining. Lips drifted over the shell of his ear.
“I have plans for you, Mr Unwin… beautiful, terrible plans.”