Chapter Text
Eggsy stared down at the tombstone.
It was a simple affair: black, polished marble with gold lettering that simply read “Harry Hart”.
(Harry would have liked it.)
It has been two months since Harry’s death and Eggsy, having been too busy mopping up the mess Valentine (and he, indirectly) had created, was visiting his mentor’s grave for the first time.
(It’s not like he had been avoiding it or anything.)
“I would have brought flowers, but I’m a bit allergic, yeah? Thought it wouldn’t be proper to show up all snivelling and shit.” Eggsy shrugged, and forced a laugh.
“You know, Merlin said that you would have been proud. After I saved the world, that is.” Eggsy crouched down and touched the engraved name with slightly trembling fingers. “But I’ll never know now, would I?”
(Harry died disappointed in him. That’s all he knows.)
“I can’t even look at JB anymore - he’s at my mum’s place, by the way. Daisy loves him to bits.” He leaned forward, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the cold marble.
“Every time I see him, I wish I had shot him, you know? If I had passed the test, I would have been there with you. I could have fucking saved you. Instead I was fucking useless and you went and got shot in the fucking head!” He was crying in earnest now, his tears dropping down onto his highly polished Oxfords.
“Fuck.” Eggsy swiped his hand roughly over his eyes and stood up. “I’m sorry, Harry. Guess I don’t look awfully dignified now, huh. Even when I’m all decked out in the suit you had them make for me, I still ain’t no gentleman, am I?” He paused, then sighed. “What the fuck am I even doing, talking to a fucking grave.”
(Waiting for an answer from a dead and buried man.)
“Ah well, gotta go now. Places to be, people to kill and all that. You take care now, yeah?” Before he could chicken out, Eggsy leaned down and gently kissed the top of the grave, lips lingering on the cold stone before swiftly turning and walking (practically running) back to his car.
“God, I’d do anything to have you back, you know, even if it’s to tell me how disappointed you are.” He mumbled as he walked (fled). “Even if you kick me out of Kingsman and never see me again. At least you’ll be alive - ”
“Would you?”
Eggsy whirled around, hand automatically grasping the gun holstered behind his back. Standing underneath a tree was a woman dressed in a well-tailored suit, even though he could have sworn that nobody had been there when he passed by a second ago.
“Would you really do anything?” She repeated with a smile.
A million answers were whirling in Eggsy’s brain,
('Who the fuck are you?’ ‘Is this a sick fucking joke?’ and the most damning one, ‘Who were you to Harry?’)
but somehow the only answer he could muster was,
“Yes.”