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Eggsy decides the bottle of champagne in his hand is apology champagne. Tilde's “in the asshole” joke had made him realize how douchey it had been to ask her for a kiss in exchange for her freedom. Eggsy opens the cell door and Tilde pushes him out of the way as she barrels out, exclaiming “Tach och lov!” He pours a glass and sticks it in her hand. She makes a noise of gratitude and raises it to her lips, but then pauses, looking at him closely.
“It’s not drugged,” says Eggsy. He can imagine the mind games that Valentine played with his prisoners while trying to win their alliances. “It’s an apology.”
“Tell me where the exit is. May I use your cell phone?”
“I shouldn’t, but just for you, love,” says Eggsy, handing her his phone and moving on to the other cells. Merlin starts chastising him in his ear - “What do you even think is the purpose of wiping witnesses if we let them use our cellphones beforehand?” - and Eggsy ignores him. Tilde is a politician, she'll know not to blab about the mysterious British spy who set her free.
“One moment,” he says to Merlin. He unlocks the doors as quickly as possible. Various dignitaries step out in his wake, confused and excited. “It’s all over, Valentine’s dead, I saved the world, everyone can go home!” yells Eggsy as he continues, and the murmurs turn to cheers. He might as well get a little appreciation before Merlin erases their memories.
At the end of the hall, Eggsy pauses and takes a sip of champagne. There’s a door that looks different. It’s wider, more reinforced, and painted a paler white. There’s no sliding window. Opening it could be a bad idea and he doesn’t even know if it’s a cell. Plus, there’s gonna be a team sent into the bunker to investigate, so this isn’t even really his job. But Eggsy’s already opened all the other doors on the hallway. It would irk his tits off to leave the last one closed.
The heavy door groans as it opens. The room looks less like a comfortably furnished hotel room and more like a laboratory, with a number of computers, monitors, and equipment that Eggsy doesn’t recognize. There’s a man strapped to a padded medical table on the far end with a bandage over his head and… Eggsy freezes.
“Harry!” he cries.
Eggsy’s heart pounds as he runs to the table. Harry’s not moving, there’s no sign of his breathing. For all Eggsy knows, it’s just his corpse, just a body that Valentine kept for some nefarious project. There’s a lump in Eggy’s throat, his grief returning along with breathless hope and excitement as he feels Harry’s neck… and yes, he’s warm, and yes! After a moment, Eggsy feels a pulse. But that doesn’t mean Harry’s still here. He was shot in the head, there are a dozen ways that could backfire and put the victim in a permanent coma.
“Harry, Harry wake up,” says Eggsy, smacking his cheeks. Harry’s serene face is the most beautiful sight that Eggsy has ever seen, even with his forehead covered. In his mind he remembers Harry’s voice, that tender, warm tone deep and crumpled with age. He remembers how much it hurt to hear the disappointment and indignation in that voice after Eggsy refused to shoot JB. After Harry died he couldn’t get it out of his head, his mind tortured him with those words - yet now, he wishes desperately to hear them, anything, coming from Harry’s lips. “I failed you, Harry, remember? Tell me I’m wrong, tell me how I desecrated Mr. Pickle’s memory…”
“He looks like he’s been drugged,” says Merlin’s voice, not in his ear but from across the room. He turns and the other Kingsman is standing in the doorway. “Bring him back to the plane. We’re leaving.”
Eggsy is unnerved but unsurprised by Merlin’s lack of a reaction. He undoes the restraints and hoists Harry’s unconscious form over his shoulders like he was first trained to do in the army. Harry’s much larger and heavier than him. Yet if he had to, he thinks, he would carry him back to England like this. On foot.
“One moment,” says Merlin as Eggsy is about to pass him. Merlin puts Eggsy’s cellphone in his breast pocket, and then starts scanning Harry’s body with a handheld device. “No explosives, apparently.” He looks at Eggsy and then he pauses, and his lips tighten into what’s almost a smile. For a moment, the knots in Eggsy’s stomach unclench, because that probably means that Harry will be alright.
***
Eggsy refuses to let go of Harry on the flight back home. He sits next to Harry’s prone form with the man’s shoulders in his lap, with his head in his arms. Merlin and Roxy don’t comment on it. They let him handle Harry, let him take Harry’s blood sample, let him carry him onto the stretcher when they’re back at the Circus.
He’s glad no one interferes because from the moment he saw his mentor, something protective and instinctive welled up inside him. He thinks he might snap at anyone who comes near Harry. He doesn’t leave Harry’s side when they get him in bed, or when they change out the bandage over his head, and he almost lunges at a nurse who starts strapping Harry’s limbs down.
“Get ahold of yourself!” says Merlin, pressing him into a chair. “We have to be cautious.”
Eggsy forces himself to be still but he’s still fuming as the nurse finishes his duties and leaves. The blood test came back positive for phenobarbital, at non-lethal levels, so all there is to do is wait. Merlin squeezes his shoulder and leaves.
After a half hour of staring at Harry’s face, Eggsy summons the courage to reach out and take Harry’s large hand in his own. “I missed you,” he whispers. “I missed you, you bastard.”
Harry’s hand twitches and Eggsy starts, his heart pounding. He squeezes. “Harry?”
“Mmmm,” says Harry, his brow furrowing as his eyes begin to open.
Tears well up in Eggsy’s eyes and he grins. “Harry, you’re back home.”
“Where are my slippers then,” mutters Harry as he turns towards Eggsy’s voice. He squints and then one corner of his lips curls up into a crooked smile that looks wrong on his face. “Well hello, Eggsy,” he murmurs. “You’re shimmering, Eggsy.”
Eggsy snorts, his grin disappearing and reappearing as he cycles through exuberance and concern. “Are you in pain?” He wants to reach out and touch Harry’s face, stroke his hair, comfort him like when his little sis is sick. But now that Harry is conscious again, Eggsy’s paralyzing sense of the boundaries between them reawakens. He’s not even sure if it’s okay to be holding Harry’s hand, but when Harry lifts his thumb and puts it over his, he thinks it’s fine.
“No, not at all. I can’t say how wonderful it is to see you.”
“You’re at headquarters. You’re alright, everything is alright. We took out Valentine and V-Day didn’t happen. Well, not much.”
Harry doesn’t respond, just looks into his eyes. Is he supposed to say more? Eggsy opens his mouth to continue, but Harry shushes him. “You can tell me later. I’m not clever enough right now, dear boy.”
Dear boy. Eggsy pushes down his warm, visceral reaction and laughs again. “You’re right, you’re positively caned,” he whispers loudly, like it’s a secret between them. He feels Harry’s arm shift, trying to move. “Sorry ‘bout that. They said to leave the straps on.”
“Ah, well,” sighs Harry, looking disappointed. “It’s probably better.” Then his gaze, which has never left Eggsy’s, clouds up. Eggsy can just see the memories racing and coming back to him.
“No no no, what happened in that church, Harry… It wasn’t your fault. That’s not the reason you’re strapped down. It’s because of Valentine, because we don’t know…” He struggles for words that will make Harry understand. “It’s not about you. We trust you.”
He clasps Harry’s fingers in both hands but the innocent joy is gone from the man’s eyes as he sets his jaw, staring across the room. Eggsy’s heart breaks again.