Merlin/Eggsy - Matters of the Heart

[galahads_heir]

Rain splattered on the windshield, which Eggsy found appropriate considering the nature of the journey. It seemed like the universe mourned with them, an about face from the cheerful day that had played out when Harry Hart died. It was poor recompense now, to late, far to late. Even so, Eggsy rubbed his hands along the fine fabric of his suit, watching the houses and shops glide by. He had debated wearing it, but in the end there had been no real question. Harry had been a gentleman, and Eggsy would perform this final task for him dressed as one, dressed as the gentleman Harry had wanted him to be. A fitting tribute, he thought, careful to pick one that was not do dour.

A full month since Harry passed. A full month since he'd watched Valentine fire the bullet and the screen go black. A full month since sliding the blade through Valentine's empty heart, since his revenge, since picking up the pieces of the Kingsman and watching the world repair itself while they guarded it from the shadows. The ache in his chest had not lessened over the span of days, an almost physical hurt assailing him every time he entered the tailor's shop. Time was supposed to make it easier, make the pain dull and easier to bear, but if anything it stood in sharp relief now as the car turned down into Harry's street.

Fingers grasped white at his knees, a tight laugh forcing itself from between his lips as he turned to look at his companion. "The last time I came here was in a car too."

Comments

[assembler]

"Who do you think told it where to take you?"

Merlin doesn't even make an attempt to reflect Eggsy's forced humor back at him, but he is humoring the younger man nonetheless. It was simple protocol to monitor candidates for a time after they left the manor to be sure no hard feelings from being dismissed came to the fore in a troublesome way, and often enough agents wanted one final exchange with their selected recruits, so he always made plans to arrange it for them. Very few had the gall to chew Merlin's ear off about it, much less get away with it, but that had been Harry's prerogative in a way, and perhaps Merlin's as well; when the man was upset, he wanted to be outspoken. And anyway, they both knew it wasn't Merlin's fault.

When Merlin is upset, he's anything but loud. The drive over had been a quiet one, save for the occasional reply he might make to Eggsy's prompting, with the older man pretending to focus on negotiating the traffic at the wheel. The car was programmable, but Merlin often preferred to have physical control of whatever he was operating; there was something very soothing to driving, and it gave him something to do with his hands, instruments that were so used to moving all day, especially when his mind was restless.

It had been a month, and there had been plenty for Merlin to do in that time regarding work, enough that he could push Harry Hart into the back of his mind after he sorted out the funeral arrangements and sent notices to all the survivors that deserved to know; not many. He had a spot in the obituaries, unremarkable, right next to people who had never made it out of the East End and impresario in Chelsea, all equal in death. A man's name should only appear in the papers three times - Harry had gotten two. It was the way he would have wanted it.

And it was what he would have wanted to have Eggsy with Merlin now, about to go through his little house together. Still, a part of Merlin wished he could do this on his own, because for once he wasn't sure what he was going to do, and as much as he'd rather it not be true, what Eggsy did during this would affect him.

Like this act he was putting on; Merlin didn't believe him for a moment. It was a flimsy thing and Merlin didn't know how long it would last. The boy might as well have been ticking instead of laughing. But what he's feeling isn't wrong, and this is something that has to be done, so Merlin will do as he's been doing so far, and deal with whatever comes as it does.

In that moment, he parked the car in front of a small moving van that was sitting in front of the house, where two moving men were taking shelter from the rain in the cab and having lunch, talking silently and just as ignorant of what was going on in the car across from them. One of them waved, but Merlin didn't acknowledge. He shut the car off with one hand and picked up Eggsy's umbrella with the other, as easily as if it belonged to him instead.

Without another word, he got out of the car, commanding the reinforced material to unfurl where it won't knock out a window. A moment later, he opened the door on Eggsy's side, solemn and expectant. Together, they'll walk to the door where Merlin will hand Eggsy the key to open it, shielded under the heavy memory of a man that's been gone too long, but not nearly long enough.

[galahads_heir]

Flimsy was a good word for it. Paper thin. Stepping out into the rain soaked it, standing before the wooden door saw it dissolve. Why did he think he could come here? Do this? Did he even have the right to do it? Glancing at Merlin, he wondered what the other man thought, wondered if he was invading on some private, intimate ritual he had no right to be a part of. The mantle of Galahad weighed heavy on his shoulders, and in that instant he questioned how worthy he was to wear it. How could he not, when he stood before the door that entombed the memories of his predecessor? A tomb they had come to desecrate.

Slowly he took the key, fingers gripping it tightly as if he expected it to bite. Smoothing his face as best he could, hiding emotions as a gentleman should, he sank the key home and twisted. Tumblers sliding rang in his ears, far to loud, echoing. Cold rain splattered across the back of his neck, shocking him out of his paralysis. Idiot, don't just stand there, don't drag this out for Merlin, for yourself. Go in and do what you must and go. This was a mission, simple as that. A mission, come to deliver final rites to a man who deserved so much more than a block of black letters and a gray stone. The injustice of it fueled him as he grasped the handle and pushed the door open, stepping through into the dim house, its warmth leeched by rain and stale air.

He stood aside for the older agent to step inside, smoothing the front of his suit, glancing around the entry way, finding no relief from the ache in his chest, no place his eyes could rest that did not dredge up memories, did not make him mourn for the future memories never realized.

"Where should we begin?" he asked quietly, and as quiet as he kept his voice it still felt sacrilegious to speak aloud here.

[assembler]

Merlin had come to accept long ago that the lifespan of a human was short in the spectrum of the world itself, and his Kingsman agents often didn't have the privilege of retiring, though they tended to live a lot longer these days than most other spies from, say, MI6.

Being the most honest, realistic handler, he'd seen this moment as an inevitability. Still, he was less than happy to be here, encroaching upon Harry Hart's sanctum. He knew he belonged, and yet, he had never wanted this day to come. Merlin flicks on the lights, flicking water back on the step before folding the umbrella and setting it on the rack.

"You start here, on the main floor." Merlin replies, simply, slowly. "All the butterflies go towards a museum. Stack them carefully. The most of them are in the kitchen. Mister Pickle... He's gone to me. The rest is yours, as you like it."

[galahads_heir]

In time, Eggsy might come to accept that, but for the moment, it was still to raw. Harry had been something special in his life, a catalyst, and its sudden absence left a hole he hadn't known had been filled in, however briefly. And just, the manner of it - so sudden. There hadn't been time to even say goodbye.

Eggsy frowned some, looking to Merlin. The orders he had expected and was willing to accept - Merlin was the older agent and he had known Harry longer, no matter how much he might have cared for Harry in their short acquaintance. But hearing that the rest was for him? That brought a bit of a shock to him.

"You don't want anything else?" he asked him, not that there was much he could see himself wanting besides a few odds and ends. None of the furniture was his style, but he had considered keeping some of the headlines, the few Harry had explained to him.

"I ain't some ex, I won't fight if you want something," he promised the other.