Chapter Text
“Left wing, first floor, clear.” Percival says, eyes scanning an empty room. It’s a lab of some sort, but everybody must have left the moment the alarms went off.
“Then get your perky little arse down the hall,” Elyan tells him. Percival makes it a point to exaggerate his sigh so that she hears him. “There are still four heat signatures left on that floor. Chop chop.”
“The children?” He asks as he starts making his way down the hallway. Footsteps soft.
“Extraction’s already got them,” Elyan says. “Don’t worry about them. Focus on clearing the facility.”
Focus. Right. Percival could do that despite how fucked the situation was. The villainous organization of the week has made it their mission to train super soldiers from children, firmly believing that this would craft the most efficient operatives the world will ever see. It was a novel idea if it weren’t for the fact that it was horrendous.
There is a door up ahead, slightly ajar.
“Anybody in there, El?” He stalks closer. The doorknob is busted, but it doesn’t show forced entry. It shows forced exit.
“Nope,” She says. Percival peers inside. The room isn’t a lab or a large dorm area filled with bunk beds like the rooms he’s seen in the past few floors. Instead, it’s got a small single bed in the corner, a toilet, and a sink.
“Somebody used to be here,” Percival says.
“Well, no shit. They’re certainly not there anymore, though.” Elyan snorts. “Those heat signatures are beginning to get into a bit of a scuffle, Percival. Take care of them first. Investigate afterwards.”
“Do you have a visual?” He navigates the halls and stops when he hears struggling, cursing. A gunshot. Infighting between the henchmen?
“Negative. No surveillance on this floor.” She says. “Get in there before they kill each other and you’re left with nobody to interrogate information out of.”
Now, Percival has been an active agent for a while. He’s seen his fair share of odd things. From the ridiculous new gadgets the tech department tries to develop to the farfetched world domination plans by the villain of the week. But those things didn’t prepare him to see a young girl who can’t be any older than twelve, kick the legs out under a man twice her size before wrangling his gun away from him and shooting neatly between the eyes, all in one fluid motion.
“Oh my god,” Elyan says as the man slumps against the hall, dead as he can get, along with the two other dead guards.
“Quite,” He finds himself saying.
The girl whips her head to the sound of his voice and a gun is trained on Percival. She has to look up, seeing as she’s roughly waist height compared to him, but she does a good job of looking threatening nonetheless. Despite being dressed in a loose shirt and pajama bottoms, hair messy, barefoot, looking young in every definition of the word, she has this look in her eyes that goes against it all. A terrible mix of feral and calculating. Percival has his gun on her, but he’s still at a disadvantage. He isn’t going to shoot her, but she doesn’t look like she’s got the same problem.
She looks two seconds away from shooting Percival.
“She’s actually pretty adorable,” Elyan says as the girl unloads five bullets right into Percival’s gut point blank. Called it. “Oh shit.”
The bullets don’t go through the suit but it does hurt like a bitch, kicking the air right out of Percival’s lungs. He staggers backwards and falls to the ground with a groan so that he doesn’t get shot in the head, and stays very, very still.
“Hey,” The girl says, almost worried. Her voice is rough with disuse. “Don’t do that. You’re not dead, or anything. I know the suit’s bulletproof. I heard the guards talkin’ about it.”
“Damn,” Percival looks up at her and gets the barrel of a gun staring down at him. “Then why did you shoot me?”
“Because you’re tall,” Her eyebrows scrunch up. Percival hears Elyan’s ‘aww’. “I needed you lower.”
“Why not just kill me then?”
And now the girl rolls her eyes as if Percival is the child in the situation. “Why would I kill my only way out?”
“The other children got out just fine,” Percival sits up slowly, hoping the action doesn’t end with another set of bullet bruises. “I can take you to them. It’s all over. You’re free now.”
“Oh yes, of course.” She scoffs. “I’ll just go to the authorities to some orphanage where they—” She casts a glance to the three dead guards. “—will find me again. And then I’ll get filtered down into another hellhole like this one. Wonderful plan, really.”
“She’s snarky,” Elyan says. “I like her.”
“I assure you, that won’t happen.” Percival tells the girl instead of telling Elyan to make herself useful. He knows that if the girl doesn’t cooperate soon, he’ll just have to dart her, but he’s not in position where he can reach his watch without looking awfully suspicious and getting his hand shot off in the process. “Trust me on this.”
“Sorry, but people like me don’t really trust people like you all that easily.” She says, jaw tensed. “Get up.”
“What are you going to do now?” Percival does as she says slowly, until he’s back to towering over her. It’s new, he thinks. Appearances aside, she is the one in complete control.
“I’m going to get out,” She says. “But I’ll need protection if I don’t want to end up here again. That’s where you come in. You’re my protection.”
“Percival,” Elyan says. “I think you’re about to get kidnapped by a child.”
---
“I can’t believe you got kidnapped by a child,” Merlin says when he joins the comms.
The girl had led Percival out of the facility, bypassing the main entrance, instead going for a hidden back passage that eventually led them to a path in the planes next to a main road. Along the way, she ditched the gun and picked a pocket knife from a guard Percival had killed earlier. She also took his shoes, for obvious reasons. From there, they waited for a bus to the city while Elyan called Merlin in due to all this being out of mission scope, which is actually just bullshit speak for “I think this is hilarious and Merlin needs to be here to witness it.”
This is how Percival ends up in a bus sitting next to a girl who swings her legs back and forth because she can’t reach the floor, all the while subtly pressing a knife to Percival’s side. They must look like a sight. A man in a bespoke suit sitting next to a girl who looks like she escaped a hospital ward wearing shoes five sizes too big. But it’s the middle of the night, so he figures if anybody notices how odd they look, they just politely ignore it.
“Once you’re in a secure location with no witnesses, dart her.” Merlin orders. “But until then, know that you will be an absolute laughingstock when you get back to HQ.”
FUCK OFF, Percival blinks in morse.
Of course, his blinking doesn’t go unnoticed. The girl looks up at him, squints her eyes, and says “You’re talking to somebody.”
“No I’m not.”
“I thought spies were supposed to be good at lying,” She says. “I remember you talking, back in the facility. It’s in the glasses, right? Messaging. You’re connected to a handler of some sort.”
“Well, she’s bright. I’ll give her that.” Merlin says.
“And cute. Really, really cute.” Elyan says. “Can we keep her? She’d make a wonderful agent.”
“I’m not a spy,” Percival tries.
“Right, and I’m a perfectly normal little girl.” She pokes him with the knife. “They did also teach me to not be as dim as rock, you know. You’re dressed too well to be police. You’re too calm to be a civilian. And you have cool gadgets like bulletproof suits and transmission glasses. Spy.”
“Fair enough,” Percival sighs. He lived with four younger cousins who ran him ragged as a teen. In short, he knows that when you’re up against a child, an intelligent one no less, there’s no winning.
She holds her hand out. “Give it here.”
“I do actually need these to see, too.”
“Geez, it’s not like you’re blind.” She reaches off and plucks them right off his face as Elyan is trying to contain her enthusiastic cooing, before sliding the window open and chucking the glasses out.
“Perfect,” Percival sighs. “How do you expect me to help you if I can’t contact my people?”
“We’ll find a payphone. It’s not that complicated,” She says. “I just don’t want you talking to people without me knowing.”
“Paranoid, much.”
“It’s by design,” She says and that shuts down Percival’s next quip.
“What’s your name?” He asks instead.
“We don’t get names,” And if that isn’t depressing, Percival doesn’t know what is.
“Do you want one?”
“I dunno,” She shrugs. “Dunno any good names. I don’t actually know any names at all, come to think of it.”
“My name is Percival,” He says, extending his hand for a shake despite the risk of getting a finger cut off. “But you can call me Percy, if you like. Some people I know call me Percy.”
She doesn’t say anything for a bit. She just swings her legs back and forth, looking out the window. The wind from outside messes her hair up, but she seems to like it. Face serene, eyes tracking the scenery as it passes by. She’s shivering slightly, though. The air is frigid and her clothes are threadbare and thin.
“You’re cold,” He says.
She hums. “I know.”
Percival shifts slightly, only to have the knife poked at his side again.
“What are you doing?” She hisses.
“Relax,” He shrugs his suit jacket off, hoping that he doesn’t get stabbed in the kidney. Percival takes a chance and gently drapes his jacket over the girl’s shoulders which tense when he brushes against her.
He backs off, but not enough to be out of stabbing range, because he’s sure that the girl finds comfort in the knowledge that she could stab him at any time. She’s staring at Percival now. Her jaw is set and her eyes are searching. It’s a look Percival recognizes. It looks like she’s trying to figure Percival out, but can’t come to any logical conclusions. Her free hand moves to adjust the coat snug against herself.
Then she says, “R.”
“What?”
“They called me R,” She turns her head back to the window. “S’not my name, but it’s the only thing they called me after the other one, the one before me, Q, failed one of his tests.” Her legs still. “He was smart. Smarter than I was, but he wasn’t really strong. I dunno what happened to him after he failed.”
“He probably got out with the rest of them,” Percival says. “We’re very good at what we do.”
“And what is that, exactly? What do you do?” R asks. “Get rid of the bad guys? Save people?”
“We get rid of people who think they can get away with everything and anything, R.”
“Not my name.”
“We’ll work on it.” He says. “What’s your plan, anyways?”
“We get to the city and find a payphone,” She says. “You can talk to your people and they can arrange for an extraction.”
“No, I meant afterwards.” R tilts her head. “After we get out of the country, what will you do? Will you just run away?”
“Definitely not. If I did that, they’d find me in a matter of weeks.” She says, face grim. “I’m their only success, so they’ll want me back real bad. But they won’t come anywhere near me as long as I’ve got you.” R looks up at him, something that’s almost a smile starting on face. “You messed them up good, so I reckon I’ll be fine as long as you’re by my side.”
“I can’t be with you every second,” Percival frowns.
“Yes,” R nods. “But if you had, say for example, custody of me, that would be enough of a threat to keep them away.”
“Are you—” Percival starts, then stops, because it’s a terrible idea. “Are you asking me to adopt you?”
A smirk pulls on R’s lips. “I promise I’ll be a good daughter.”
“Jesus Christ,” Percival says.
---
"How do you feel about children?" Percival asks the moment James picks up his phone.
"What?" James yawns. To be fair, it is the middle of the night. "Well I'm a little bit indifferent, love. Why?"
"Uh," He looks down at where R is hugging his leg, pressing a knife against his femoral artery, bright eyes just daring him to go against her. "Well. I’m in a situation of sorts."
“Hey,” R tugs on Percival’s sleeve. “Ask him for the location of a nearby safe house. You guys must have one if you were planning on taking down the facility.”
“What’s happening over there?” James asks, more alert now. “Who’s that with you?”
“Nobody,” Percival says. “But do you think you could go log into the database and tell me the coordinates for the safe house in Kópavogur?”
“But Merlin gave you the coordinates,” James says. There’s some shuffling on the other end.
“I may have misplaced my glasses,” He shoots a glare at R who just shrugs.
“You’ve misplaced your glasses? I hope you’re not walking around, then. You’d be a right traffic hazard without them, dear.” James tells him. “But yes, I’m logging in. Give me a few minutes.”
Percival sighs, “I love you.”
“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Percival.” Merlin says, what the fuck.
“Whoops, sorry.” James says. “He cut in when I logged in. Hello Merlin.”
“Lovely,” Percival rests his head against the payphone. “Hello Merlin.”
“Hey,” R tugs on his sleeve. “What’s happening?”
“A disaster.”
“Well put, Percival.” Merlin says. “Location. Now.”
“A payphone somewhere in Iceland.”
“Specifics,” Merlin sighs while James says, “Hey, Iceland is a small place. How many payphones could there possibly be over there?”
“You can’t expect me to believe you haven’t been tracing this call since it started.”
“It saves me the effort if you just told me.”
“Hey,” R tugs on his sleeve again, insistent, eyes shifting around the street. “Hurry up. It’s not getting any warmer. Safe house.”
“Just a minute, R.”
“R? Who’s R?” James asks.
“Well I’m assuming it’s the name of the ten year old girl who managed to kidnap one of our finest agents,” Merlin answers.
“Holy shit, tell me you’re not lying.” James says. Percival thumps against the payphone a couple of times. “Oh my god, Percy. Oh my god. This is real. You can never make fun of me for Congo ever again.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Merlin says. At least he sounds like he’s having fun. “The girl is armed and is trained to kill.”
“But ten years old.”
“Are you two going to be useful or will I just have to ask R to stab me so I can be put out of my misery?”
“I might just do that if we don’t get to a safe house soon!” R yells, right before she slices a shallow wound up Percival’s side.
“That was uncalled for,” Percival hisses, bringing a hand to his side. He glares at R for a split second before he notices that she looks absolutely petrified. She barely batted an eyelash when she killed three men, but now, here on an empty street in front of a payphone in the middle of the night, she looks scared.
“Please hold,” Percival lets the phone dangle from the cord before he crouches down in front of R.
She presses the knife to Percival’s neck the moment he’s in reach, but at the same time, her eyes are getting increasingly wet.
“Hey,” Percival says.
“I’m not crying.” R says. She blinks the tears away before they can fall.
“Okay. Just don’t get upset.”
“I’m not upset!” She says, voice wavering.
Percival sighs. They aren’t going to get anywhere like this. “Do you think you could not be upset while putting the knife down?”
“No,” R sniffs. “I don’t trust you.”
“I know that,” He says. Percival isn’t sure R will ever trust anybody ever again. She was trained as a weapon. An object. “But if I’m going to help you, you’re going to have to trust me just a little bit. Not 100%, but just enough to not threaten bodily harm on me every time I try anything, because that will get a bit difficult once the sun comes up.” R looks at him, still blinking, but looking better than a while ago. “If it helps, know that I trust you enough to not kill me.”
“How do you know I won’t?”
“I don’t,” He tells her frankly. “That’s the whole point of trust. You don’t know for sure but you believe in it anyways.”
R frowns. “That gets you killed.”
“But it could also get you saved,” Percival says. He brings his hand up and closes it around R’s hand. R has the look again. The one where she thinks Percival doesn’t make any sense. Her grip around the knife is loose, until she lets go completely. It must be one hell of a trust fall, and he appreciates it greatly.
He folds the knife closed and tucks it in the pocket of the suit jacket R is still wearing.
“Go talk to your people,” She says. More than anything, Percival knows this is a girl who is determined to get through all of this. “Just be quick. I’m getting hungry.”
---
Percival is a private man. Some would even call him secretive. He did, after all, adopt his codename as his new real name after completely erasing his previous identity upon entering Kingsman. It was something that was whispered on about in the agency, because everybody just loves a mystery, until people just accepted it like how they accepted James was a wanker.
Point is, most people don’t really know much about Percival before he came to Kingsman. One of the things most people don’t know is the fact that Percival is good with kids.
He was an only child, but he lived with four younger cousins who he feels he raised more than their actual parents. So at the age of eighteen, he knew how to take care of an infant, a toddler, and two twelve year old twins, all at the same time, without setting the house on fire.
It’s a talent that stuck with him after he shed that life. It was first discovered by Elyan when he was sent on a mission to rescue the six year old son of one of Kingsman’s sponsors from a kidnapping. After the whole ordeal, Oliver became quite attached to Super Secret Spy Percival, much to Elyan’s absolute glee. He’s sure Elyan videoed him walking around the medical bay with Oliver wrapped around his leg like a koala.
It was Merlin and Harry who witnessed it next. Merlin is Harry’s main handler and Percival and Harry had been called to a mission at ski resort. It ended in with the both of them, along with two other civilians, a mother daughter pair, caught in an avalanche. The girl, just thirteen years old, had broken her leg and was in need of a splint.
“Shhhh, it’s okay. Everything will be alright.” He had said to the girl. He was vaguely aware of Harry at the side, looking at him like he was an alien. “Be a brave girl for me, okay?”
“Since when were you good with children?” Merlin asked after they all got back safely. Jo waved enthusiastically at him from her stretcher where the medics were checking on her leg. Her mother looked relieved and exhausted but waved a bit too. “Good thing you were on this mission, though. If it had just been Harry up there, he would have just knocked them both out and carried them down the mountain.”
“I’m offended,” Harry said. “I would at least use the amnesia darts. It’s only polite.”
The last person to find out was James, who was coincidentally the last person Percival ever wanted to know. It was when Lorna, the thirty one year old mother who lived across the street and came over to feed the dogs when James and Percival were both out, came to Percival with a work emergency. Percival was happy to look after eleven month old Marcine for the afternoon, since dear Matthew was out of town.
So later, James had found Percival reclined on their couch with Marcine sitting on his chest, screeching in joy as he roused her in a thrilling game of peek-a-boo.
“Hello James,” Percival greeted after five minutes of James just hovering at the doorway of the living room in his periphery, face a mixture of awe and awww.
“Oh,” James jumped at being noticed. He makes his way to the couch. “Hello dear. Who’s, uh. Who’s this?”
“This is Lorna’s daughter, Marcine.” Percival said. “Marcine, this is James. Say hello.”
“Ba!” Marcine said in James’ direction, before apparently getting very shy and hiding her face in Percival’s shoulder.
“Hello Marcine,” James said as he hovered around the couch. “Lorna’s kid. I like Lorna. Lorna is cool. The dogs like Lorna.”
Percival rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Percival quirked an eyebrow. “Nothing! I swear. It’s just that you’re good with her. You’re good with kids.” James said. “Elyan showed me the video. It was really cute. I just didn’t think you’d be good with kids.”
“I had a lot of younger cousins,” Percival said. Marcine had fallen asleep on him, so he sat up slowly, making sure not to wake her. “And I like kids.”
“Oh,” James said. His face started to panic.
“It’s okay if you don’t,” Percival said slowly.
“But—”
“James,” He said. “You look like you’re about to shit yourself. Calm down.”
“Do you—” James started. And this is why Percival didn’t want him to know. “Do you, you know. Want kids?”
“Not if you don’t.” He smoothed a hand down Marcine’s back. James looked at her like she was a landmine.
“That wasn’t my question,” James sat down next to Percival.
“Fine.” Percival sighed. “Yes, I would. I would like kids.”
“Huh,” James said.
They never talk about it again, because it seemed like a touchy topic. Percival just assumed, based on James’ reaction, that he just wasn’t the type to like kids. But they never actually talked about it. Percival never actually gets to know how James feels about kids, other from the fact that they make him panic. They don’t talk about it.
That is, until R kidnaps him. They’ll have to talk about it soon, because Percival is sure that once he and R get to HQ, he’ll be adopting her.
He’ll be adopting R.
Oddly enough, it doesn’t sound as bad as it did a few hours ago.
But a lot of things can change in the span of a few hours.
Percival had finally gotten the coordinates for the safe house, and he and R were on their happy way. R had stopped holding a knife against him and instead settled for holding Percival’s wrist in a death grip.
They’re at the safe house now. A nondescript apartment in the city. It’s decked with supplies to last for three days and some equipment too. There’s an extra pair of glasses, one of the older models, which Percival slips on the moment he sees them, only to grumble when he realizes it still isn’t his prescription, leaving the world slightly blurry.
R grabs all the fruits stocked in the fridge while Merlin sends him a few messages about extraction. He skims over the details while he bandages the cut R gave him. A time and a place. Tomorrow. They have a whole night to spare, so Percival blinks open another window.
He walks over to where R is on an armchair, slicing pieces of an apple off with her knife, happily munching down, and places the glasses on her face.
“What?” She says, wiggling her nose so the glasses are straight. “I thought you needed these to see.”
“No, they’re one of the older, standard models. Not really much use to me.” Percival tells her. “Extraction is tomorrow morning. But until then.”
He reaches towards the glasses and double taps the frame. R’s eyes widen when the screen of the lenses flashes to life, blinking to adjust.
“What is—” R scans the list Percival had pulled up. “What’s this?”
“Names,” Percival snatches an apple slice. R barely notices him, instead, all her attention is focused on the list. “Pick one you like. Or don’t, if you want to stick with R.”
“No, I’ll pick one.” She says. “I kind of fucking hate R.”
“Language,” Percival says.
“Right.” R snorts, eyes focusing on him past the screen of the lenses. “Is that how it’s gonna be then? You really gonna be my dad?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Is it what you want?”
“I like kids,” Is what he says. “I always have. But my partner—”
“James, right? The one you were on the phone with.” She pops a slice into her mouth. “What’s up with him? He doesn’t like kids?” She says as if she’s ready to murder James over it.
“He doesn’t hate kids, but I don’t really know what he thinks about having kids. We never really talked about it.” He shrugs. “But he’s a good man. One of the best. And I have a feeling he’ll like you.” Percival tells her. “Now I’m just not sure if you’ll like him. He’s a bit much, at first. Really talkative.”
“I can deal with that,” R says. “I mean, if you like him, he can’t be that bad.”
Percival finds himself laughing at that, but it peters out when he notices R staring at him. Staring at him like she’s never seen a person really laugh before.
Percival has a lot of work to do.
“You should sleep,” He says. “There’s a bed in the next room. I’ll take the couch.”
“I’m okay here,” R tells him, eyes scanning through the list. “And I’m not sleepy yet. You go ahead.”
“Alright. Don’t murder me in my sleep,” R snorts. “Good night.”
“‘Kay. Good night.”
He doesn’t actually sleep. Percival leaves the door open and lies back, not particularly thinking of anything. He’s tired, but it’s not enough to put him to sleep. The ceiling keeps him entertained until he hears the telltale clack of glasses against the floor.
Percival steps out of the room and sees R asleep on the couch. He bends down to fetch the glasses, folding them and setting them on the table.
“I’m going to carry you now,” He says mostly to himself. “Please don’t punch me in the throat.”
Carefully, he tucks an arm around her back and under her knees, and lifts her with ease. He sets her down on the bed and gets to work slipping off her ridiculously big shoes when he hears her say, “—anne.”
“Hm?” He sets the shoes down. “What did you say?”
“Roxanne,” She blinks blearily. “I like the name Roxanne.”
“Roxanne,” He says, trying it out.
She frowns a bit at that. “Maybe not. It sounds a bit too posh for me.”
“Maybe Roxy,” Percival tries. “Like how my name is Percival but some people call me Percy. It rests easier on the tongue. Sounds more natural.”
“Roxy,” She says. “Yeah. That sounds...better. Roxy.”
“Roxy it is then,” He says. “Good night Roxy.”
“Mmmm,” She hums, pulling Percival’s coat over her like a blanket. “Good night Percy.”
It’s the first time they’ve said their names. Percival can see himself getting used to it.
---
“Merlin,” Percival says on the plane the next day when he slips on the extra glasses they hand him. He’s filled with silent euphoria when he notices that the world is finally clear. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“If that favor has anything to do with creating a new identity for your newfound favorite little killing machine,” Merlin guesses rather accurately. “I’ll be happy to tell you how getting involved is a bad idea.”
“I’ll also need adoption papers.”
“Wonderful!” Merlin says followed by what sounds like a facepalm. It sounds like despair and regret. “Perfect, really. You want to adopt a girl literally trained to murder people. There is no way this could go wrong.”
“Are you reprimanding me, a person who has killed people, on the downsides of a girl who kills people?” Percival asks. He hears despair and regret again. “Come on, it’s not like you can’t do it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know you’ll keep it from Arthur, too.”
“Also not the point.”
“And it’s not like other agents don’t have families too,” He says. “It’s entirely possible.”
“Yes, but your situation is not the regular picket fence setup, is it Percival?” Merlin tells him. “Both you and James are active agents, whereas those agents who do have families married somebody who can stay at home and be there when they aren’t, and ultimately, when the job kills them.” He says. “Not to mention the glaring fact that the girl is a trained assassin. Even if you disregard those things, this is still a big thing. You want to adopt a child. Have you talked this through with James?”
“Since when are you our relationship counselor?”
“Avoiding the question.”
“I will,” Percival says. “Later.”
“The more you postpone it the worst—”
“I know,” He interrupts him. Roxy is sitting across him, staring out of the window, occasionally casting glances in his direction. “But if we talk now, we might argue. And I’d rather not do that in front of Roxy.”
“Who now?”
“Roxy. The girl.” Percival says. “Or well, Roxanne. But she likes Roxy better.”
“Good lord, you’ve named her.” Merlin groans. “You’ve gone and done it. You’ve gotten attached.”
“New identity and adoption papers,” Percival repeats.
“Fine,” Merlin sighs. There’s some aggressive keyboard tapping. “Fine. I hope you’re happy with Roxanne Morton, estranged cousin-niece whose parents recently died. You’re her closest blood relatives. Congratulations. You’re a father.”
“Thank you,” Percival says and he hangs up before Merlin can say anything else. He’s really getting some of James’ bad habits.
“So what’d your boss say?” Roxy asks. Her face is still trained on the window, looking at the clouds. She reaches into the pocket of Percival’s jacket, something she’s still wearing, and pulls out some grapes she took from the safe house.
“He’s getting things in order.”
“About me living with you?”
“Mhhmm,” He nods. “Your name is Roxanne Morton. Your parents died so you’ll be with me now. Nobody will ask any questions. Nobody will look for you. Nobody will find you.”
“Everything is settled then,” Roxy says, popping a grape into her mouth.
“As settled as they could possibly be,” Percival nods. “But, Roxy. This won’t be easy.”
“I never expected it to be.”
“I’m an active agent,” He says. Roxy just looks at him, waiting for him to get to the point. “I’m an active agent, and James is too.”
“Okay?”
“What I’m saying is that we won’t be around a lot,” Percival explains. “Sometimes missions will keep us away for long periods of time. Sometimes we’ll get hurt and be stuck in the medical bay for weeks.”
“Then don’t get hurt,” Roxy says simply.
“I’ll try, but it’ll happen either way.” He tells her. “We’ve got some nice neighbors who can come over if you’re lonely. We’ve also got two dogs who can keep you company. But we can’t be with you all the time.”
“I can take care of myself,” She tosses a grape at him. “And I’ll be safe. As long as I’m safe, none of that matters.”
“Of course it matters,” Percival says. Roxy looks at him and doesn’t get it. “Roxy, what I’m trying to say is that you deserve a good life. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you get that life, but the moment you want out, you tell me.” She opens her mouth to say something but he continues before she can say anything. “I swear, I’ll help you. If you don’t like living with us, I’ll help you find other people. Another family. People who’ll keep you safe and take care of you. People who aren’t spies. They’ll be normal, so normal nobody will think to find you there.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Roxy asks jokingly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks hurt, really.
“No, I’m not. I’m just telling you that you have choices.” He says. “If you stay with us, we’ll take care of you. But it won’t be normal.”
“I think,” Roxy says after a few minutes of swinging her legs back and forth. Percival recognizes it for what it is, now; a nervous tick. “I think that wouldn’t work. See, I don’t like people. You’re literally the only person I like. So anybody else would be weird. They wouldn’t really know me. They wouldn’t know why I’m the way I am. Not like you. I don’t think I can do normal anymore.”
“I figure if I were like the other kids at the facility, the younger ones,” Her legs still. “I might’ve went for normal. But It’s too late for me. It seems nice, but I can’t do that. I don’t wanna pretend to be something I’m not.” Roxy says. “Killer, normal person, same thing. Just pretending. I don’t want that.”
“What do you want?” Percival asks.
“A life,” Roxy shrugs. “That’s it, really.”
It’s a simple enough request. Percival is determined to see it through.
“Alright,” He says. Roxy goes back to looking out the window. She looks anxious. She looks excited. She looks like she’s ready to take on whatever is foolish enough to go against her. “Then we’ll work it out.”