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The clock on the mantle kept perfect time. Harry had told him once that every other time piece was synced against that clock; watches included. Right now it read three minutes past ten, which was three minutes after the meeting was supposed to start. It ticked off the seconds quietly and was the only sound in the otherwise silent Dining Room, something that made him antsy. Kingman training had greatly improved his patience but this wasn’t a mission and Eggsy got the feeling that this was more of a test than anything else. He shifted in his chair, crossed his feet at his ankles and tried his best not to look like he was fidgeting but he suspected by the way Roxy glanced at him that he’d failed miserably. She’d taken the seat directly across from him at the long polished table, Merlin to her left, and if felt for all the world like he was being interviewed for a job he didn’t remember applying for.
He bloody hated being left out of the loop. Something major was going on and Eggsy would have had to have been blind not to see it, but he’d been confined to the Infirmary and his quarters at the Estate until Merlin and the medical staff deemed him well enough to leave. Information on the sudden shift was scarce and no matter how hard he tried - and shit, he’d tried - he couldn’t find out what was going on. Bloody spies. Even Roxy was being tight lipped about it and that only served to make him more curious.
When Eggsy checked his watch for the third time since they arrived, Merlin sighed and levelled him with a stare.
“If you don’t stop doing that I’ll take the bloody thing off you.”
He wrinkled his nose, sniffed like the threat didn’t phase him. “He’s late.”
“I know,” was the frustrated reply, followed up by a muttered, “He always bloody is.”
Eggsy frowned, “What’s that?”
Merlin waved the comment away and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Never you mind.”
Eggsy rolled his neck, heard it crack. Impatience got the better of him and he stood from the table with an aggravated grunt, “It’s been two weeks since I got out of the Infirmary, Merl, why’re we waiting for this new Arthur to show up? He weren’t even there.”
“Whether he was there or not doesn’t matter, he still needs to debrief you.”
“Why can’t you do it?” Eggsy asked, “I mean, you know what happened, right? And you’ve already told Roxy, so I don’t get why you’re making me wait.”
Merlin’s jaw tensed for a moment and he shared a look with Roxy before he answered, “It wasn’t entirely my choice.”
He threw out his hands in frustration, “Well whose choice was it?”
“Mine.”
There was a split second where time froze. Eggsy’s heart stopped; a million and one thoughts clicked through his brain but by the time his heart started again his body was already moving, decision made.
The gun was in his hand between one breath and the next, pulled from the twin holster at the small of his back in one smooth move. He’d aimed even before his eyes fell on their target, and even though his mind had told him what he’d heard, it was something else to finally see it. Like a solid punch to the stomach, a knife in his heart.
Twin shouts of his name, heavy chairs scraped back, drowning out the sound of the clock. Both were barely heard. Blood roared through his ears, pounded in his head, crept into the spaces filled with white noise and beat like a tattoo in his skull. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real.
“Who the fuck are you?”
The question was deep and menacing and not quite steady as it left his mouth. But the man in the doorway didn’t seem scared; in fact he didn’t seem at all phased that he was currently at the wrong end of Eggsy’s gun. He was calm, standing there like nothing was out of the ordinary, in his pinstripe suit and that navy blue tie and the neatly pressed trousers you could cut yourself on.
“Put the gun down, Eggsy.”
It was that measured voice, saying his name, that hit him the hardest, and Eggsy’s fingers tightened reflexively. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Galahad,” Merlin snapped from somewhere to his left, “Don’t be stupid, put the gun down, now.”
Eggsy ignored him, staring straight at the man on the other side of the table. He could feel his arm starting to shake. “I asked you a question.”
The man inclined his head, “You did, but it’s a question you already know the answer to.”
Denial was immediate, scrambling to get out with a shake of his head, “No. No I don’t. You’re de-He’s dead.”
The shape of Roxy slid into the edges of his view but he couldn’t spare her even a glance, not now. “Eggsy,” she said, quietly, like she was trying to soothe a spooked animal, “Eggsy, it’s Harry.”
Anger so sharp speared through his gut, burst out of his mouth like bile, “Don’t fucking say that!” He snapped, “Don’t… alright? It’s not him. It can’t be him.”
He moved forward, slow and deliberate, setting the files that he’d been holding on to down on the table between them, and Eggsy wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh and scream and blow the fucking prick to pieces because he looked like Harry and talked like Harry and even fucking moved like Harry. But it wasn’t Harry. Because Harry was dead. Harry’s brains painted the concrete outside that fucking church. Harry was dead.
...wasn’t he?
“Harry’s dead,” he heard himself say, voice cracked and trembling, and he didn’t know if he was stating fact or trying to convince himself. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you don’t get the fuck out of this room in five seconds I’m gonna shoot you.”
The was a pause as the threat was weighed up. No-one moved. He didn’t even blink.
“Five.”
Merlin growled, “For fucks sake-”
“Four.”
It was then that Roxy stepped up. Without a word she put herself between Harry - can't be can't be - and Eggsy, staring down him down unflinchingly. She’d left her hair long and loose but everything else was sharp and precise; from the perfect cut of her suit to the starched collar of her shirt. She stared at him from behind those black framed glasses, deadly calm, and Eggsy’s jaw tightened.
“Get out the way, Rox.”
Just one movement of her head, left to right.
Then a hand pressed gently to her shoulder, “It’s alright, Roxy.” Harry said in that soft way of his that made Eggsy want to buckle. But Roxy just held up a hand and stared directly ahead.
“If you’re going to shoot him,” she said, “You’ll have to shoot through me.”
Fear bubbled up inside him, sudden and intense, “I ain’t messin’, Rox, just get out the fuckin’ way!”
But she didn’t move.
Eggsy was a mess, coming apart at the seams. Frustration, anger, and hurt made a volatile mix that left his hands shaking and his knees weak. But somewhere beyond that was that voice that told him that even if he changed his aim and shot there would be a slim chance that he’d still hit Roxy, and just the thought of that made him sick to his stomach. Because he wasn’t steady. He wasn’t steady because Harry fucking Hart was staring at him from across the room, alive and not dead. Alive and not dead.
“You lied to me.”
It wasn’t a question, but Harry answered it anyway. “Yes.”
And before he could blink Eggsy found his arm yanked up, his head wrenched back and locked in Merlin’s strong grip. Everything moved so fast that he struggled with the shock of it, but it was useless; he’d been disarmed and disabled quickly and efficiently and no amount of struggling was going to get him out. Merlin held on tight as he spat and cursed and railed, thrashing against him like a cornered rabbit trying to get loose.
“Let him go.”
The quiet order was obeyed without question and Eggsy caught himself on the table before he fell, coughing as he caught his breath, trying to make his brain work beyond the confusion that buzzed like a swarm of angry bees inside his head. Harry’s alive, Harry’s alive, Harry’s alive. All other thoughts were drowned in the turmoil of his emotions; just that mantra running round and round, swamping him in feelings he didn’t know what to do with.
"Eggsy.”
It was soft and careful and Eggsy finally looked up at him with watering eyes, stared until his vision blurred, and said the only two words that came to mind.
“Fuck you.”
He pulled himself up and walked out without a backwards glance, missing the subtle flinch as his words hit their intended target.