[ a few words stand out, their use here foreign to him, but not because of his limited vocabulary. transfiguration. ministry. muggle. something to do with wizard politics and, like, the salem witch trials? mental stuff. he starts taking notes in his head, compiling a list of questions to pursue now or later. having had his fun, he offers the wand back, expression mellowing into curiosity. ]
So, you've got wizard rules. [ there's amusement lilting his tone, too. mischief always charms him, even now that he travels along the straight and narrow. ] Perfect for breaking, naturally. [ already broken for eggsy, of course, reinforcing their friendship with a precious secret. well, that and the delight that comes with flipping off authority, yeah? not to mention the implication that james doesn't think of non-magical people as lesser, especially not when he picked eggsy to enjoy his magic.
all of it pushes eggsy closer to violating the code that binds him, and yet he resists, taking james' observation with a private smile and soft shake of his head. another swig of whiskey seems wise, buying him time to construct an adequate reply. ]
I've been through some mad shit, bruv. [ which is more than he should say despite its vague implications. a cocktail of memories come to mind. his signet ring electrocuting charlie, valentine spouting his james bond-esque villainy, a fucking princess warming to his advances — but harry most of all, rocking up to him outside the observation room in a pristine, bespoke suit. eggsy swallows. he may be a spy, but the flicker of conflict on his face is obvious. he can't tell james about kingsman, no, but there's something far closer to his heart worth sharing. his thoughts aren't conducive to their present mood, so refreshing and sparkling, but he knows there's anxiety running rivulets down their spines (from the events of the vr and all that came after, only forgotten during peels of laughter). anything said won't be reversible, not with his watch confiscated by the orbiters. he knocks back more of his drink, aware of the alcohol softening his thoughts. might loosen his tongue as well, if he isn't careful. he forges onward, attempting to around casual but failing to convey neutrality. he knows his tells these days: trailing off mid-sentence is one of them. ]
Like, you ever seen someone...come back from the dead?
[ being magic and all. he doesn't think that's what happened with harry, exactly, given that he specifically asked for his mentor to be rescued before his demise (wish fucking granted, for once in his life). ]
[ honest, james expects questions about that. words that eggsy shouldn't know, can't know, that would ease into a conversation james was all too willing to have, now that the initial seal had been broken. when eggsy offers the wand back, james flicks it again, setting the bottle down on the table before sliding the wand back into his pocket. eggsy's words pull something of a chuckle from james, which is mostly eaten by the mug as he takes another drink - a bit slower this time - feeling the burn as it falls down the back of his throat and into his stomach. enjoying it for what it is - damn good space liquor. ]
Oh, naturally. Back home they'd have me obliviate. [ and then, when he realizes how little context that allows: ] Wipe your memory. I'd likely be put on trial, have my whole record looked at... [ there's a dramatic, unnecessarily grave look james makes at the sound of that, before he devolves into that same quiet chuckling from before. he feels comfortable in a way he hasn't since hogwarts. like he can breathe, like he can joke, like there isn't going to be a deatheater kicking down the door the second he lets his guard down. it feels good.
it is the mention of that 'mad shit' that has james' brow arching up to his forehead, curious, but also aware. aware of the fact there is definitely a secret, even if he's not confident he's going to find out what it is. be it the alcohol, or the companionship, but james doesn't much of an issue with that at the current moment. eggsy doesn't need to spill his secrets to him. this telling of his own, this opening up to eggsy, was enough for him.
but at the same time, he does notice the way eggsy's demeanor shifts. as subtle or not as it is, james sees it, no special training necessary. like watching a slowly descending cloud, or a figure slowly crossing over the firelight, the shadow creeps in and james watches it, watches eggsy take another drink, watches him try, really and honestly try, to hide whatever it is that he's deciding if he wants to talk about. when the questions is finally asked, though, james realizes how wholly unprepared he is for it, and belatedly finds himself thankful that he'd set his own mug on his knee before the words even left eggsy's mouth.
like, you ever seen someone...come back from the dead?
part of james knows that eggsy couldn't have figured it out. part of him understands that it's probably just eggsy attributing magic to all things magical. sleeping kings and merlin and bringing back your greatest loves. but that's not where james' mind goes. that's not what drains the color from his face like a bucket of water dumped over his head. it takes effort to get himself to take that next breath, and then the one following. he doesn't know how long the silence stretches after, either, because he feels himself turn and face the room again, his vision blurring back. ]
No. [ is what he does, finally, hear himself say. low, though surprisingly even. ] There were rumors of ancient spells, maybe. Forbidden magics. But I'd never seen it. [ his eyes his mug, thinks about sirius out on the ice, and lily's ashen face. voldemort came to godric's hollow.
in a rush of movement, james picks up his mug and knocks back the remainder of his cup - a double, maybe a little more. he swallows it back and presses the back of his hand to his mouth. swallowing once, then again, before he feels the pressure of the drink subside. ] Until I got here, at least. [ and then, like the words that had just left his mouth were as simple as him asking eggsy about his bright yellow jacket, he leans forward to grab the bottle and refill it. there is a half-second somewhere in there that he pauses, feeling the alcohol a bit belatedly from the drink itself, and james realizes - quite suddenly - that he is well on his way, if he's not already arrived, to drunk.
he's also, at the current moment, unsure if this will aid or worsen the situation. not that he's in any mind to otherwise change where he is. if he's going to get properly smashed and talk about this god-awful place, then so be it. eggsy will just have to understand. ]
[ wipe his memory, huh? just like the kingsman watch. spying might not be far off from magic.... he'd like to chase up on that thread, but the mood drops due to his selfishness — his inability to stay composed, like roxy would be able to do or merlin would demand of him. james communicates that he understands this, too, implying he saw the same miracles as eggsy. relief and guilt dovetails over the revelation. how can eggsy justify joy over shared suffering? god, he thought he was alone, and now he isn't, but he knows he shouldn't have asked in the first place.
no, eggsy couldn't have figured it out. even now, he doesn't understand. he feels that he must have pushed his luck, steering their conversation out the airlock. he ought to have deflected, exploring james' abilities as he had the best kingsman gadgets. eggsy knows what panic looks like, the way it snatches colour from someone's face and warps their features. everything from roxy lifting off, her small hands shaking in his, to harry stumbling out of a church in kentucky, wrecked beyond eggsy's comprehension, has given him the practical exposure to complement his theoretical knowledge. james is not okay. and it's eggsy's fault. ]
Sorry. [ for his loss? for mentioning the dour topic instead of pursuing the magic? he doesn't know if it will be well-received, after cocking up the mood, but eggsy braces a hand on james' shoulder. it might be selfish as well, with touch grounding him as much as james. he lets out a ragged exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. ] I just — I can't stop thinking about it.
[ about how he wasn't with harry, but he still watched him die the first time. he'll never forget the sound of a single shot to the head, crackling through skull and sinew, the chill of valentine's words twisting, vice-like, at his heart. it's not that kind of movie. the second time, he held harry's hand, eyes watering and mouth begging please, mr. hart — harry, please, hold on, i promise i'll get you back to the city. that was more like a movie, wasn't it? a moment that seemed like hours.
eggsy wants to ask james if he knows for a fact that the person died, if he fucking saw it himself. he manages to reign in the disastrous impulse. ]
Shit, definitely not where you meant for that comment to go. [ you're taking it pretty well. he squeezes james' shoulder, reassuring. ] Forget it. [ he glances at the remainder of his drink. he's not drunk, but he feels himself drifting. he started drinking without james, after all. ] I'm not normally this messy. Swear down.
[ he's normally getting wankered and bantering with his mates and stealing shitheads' cars. ]
[ it's possible. james wouldn't be the first to make the connection, mostly because spies and movies and all that's wrapped up in it feels very muggle, and therefore he doesn't have the best knowledge. there are spies in the wizard world, of course, but they don't have the same thrill, or the same rich, fancy aura. they're parents, they're ministry workers, they're friends - sometimes best friends - out risking their lives with a madman running around. james is too close to it to really see, but he could, probably. he's watched a bond movie, thanks to lily. he sort of, in a way, knows.
but it all fades away, fairly quickly, at the mention of it. death, resurrection, coming back from the dead. james' stomach is in knots and really, that's a bit dangerous, considering the amount of alcohol in it. considering how his head starts to move a bit more fluidly, slow. eggsy is apologizing, eggsy is noticing, and james immediately feels himself moving - his understanding of his reactions a half second delayed from the actual act of it. ]
No, merlin, don't apologize. It's- [ he takes a breath, his fingers itching. he supposes he should pick the mug up from the table, considering how he has his hand already wrapped around it, but instead he sighs and slips his hand away, his eyes falling down to the ground under the table. he can feel eggsy's guilt radiating out from the spot next to him, and james hates it. hates how he couldn't keep it together enough for the night, how he's all but ruined whatever conversation that had going. james wishes, in a way, he could have a second go at reacting. a second go at hearing those words and knowing what to do with them.
instead, he exhales - slow and weighted and all together an attempt to push away this feeling. because what use is it now? feeling sorry for himself was never something james liked to do, never a feeling he would let anyone dwell in if he could. what's so different about him? this? another exhale, and then rubs at his face with his hand. ] No, not really, but- [ then james feels himself bark out a laugh, a little dark and a little heavy, before he falls back to lean into the couch. ] But that's part of this place, isn't it? Saving the world, getting people back. [ it's a forced attempt at casual, effort to sound effortless, in equal parts trying to ease eggsy out of it and convince himself that there's no reason to panic anymore. what's done is done, and he's here, and the world isn't, and harry is somewhere but what does it really matter until they find him?
when he notices eggsy eyeing the drinks, he motions out with his hand. ] Not gonna finish mine, you're free to it. [ and then, because it's been brought up and james, despite his best efforts, can't find it in himself to censor. not now, when words are easy and his body heavy. he weaves his fingers together and sets his palms down on his abdomen, looking over at eggsy with the kind of simply curiosity that could only, really, come with a good amount of alcohol. ]
Were they part of your deal? When you agreed to this whole thing?
[ he takes another shot, and immediately decides it was the wrong decision. it buys him time again, at least, enough to craft a better response than he would have without precious seconds to smooth the edges of his words. ]
Yeah. [ he cards a hand through his already messy hair, letting his head rest for a moment, expression obscured. any remnants of gel have been dislodged. idly, he makes a note to put his snapback back on before he leaves. well, if he leaves. ] I asked for the Orbiters to get him before he — before he died. [ he knows how profoundly sad and desperate that sounds. it's written in the way his frown tightens and heard in the stutter over the word died. all the training in the world wouldn't stop his voice from sounding thick with emotion. not over this. ] 'Cause I owe him everything. [ that rationalises the request, doesn't it? it adds dimension, making eggsy more than someone starved for affection, asking for one of the few people who believed in him, to defy the laws of life and existence. ]
Figured if they could get blokes like us [ he and james, in this instance ] before the end of the world, they could get him before the... end. [ he hazards a glance at james, entirely soft and unguarded. in that moment, he decides to help rescue the conversation. ] Asked for me mum and sister, too. [ there's fondness there, lifting the statement, even if it remains tinged with uncertainty and sadness from discussing harry's revival. ] They're still sleepin' though.
[ there's an invitation here, too, for james' to mention his deal with the orbiters, if he chooses. eggsy won't ask outright. ]
[ firmer — ] Just part of this place, I guess, like you said. [ he echoes james' earlier words, finding them oddly comforting. it's not some miracle occurrence, right? (even if it's horribly special to eggsy) resurrection is another facet of this new world, affecting people like alan and james as well. before now, eggsy adapted from common type to high-class spy. adding supernatural nonsense his cv should be fine. he leans back, removing his other hand from james' shoulder. ] Yeah, just another save the world situation.
[ like it had been when he killed chester king and stopped valentine. he looks to james again, corners of his mouth curling a smidge. ]
You ain't taking it horribly.
[ saving the world, meeting up with dead people, hanging out with a chap walking an emotional tightrope and struggling to maintain his balance. a reference to james telling him he was 'handling it pretty well' minutes ago. is it terrible, if he sounds a touch amused? there's a sort of humour to this, surely, the kind that bubbles over from tension. no, he and james are not handling it 'pretty well' any longer, but nobody's crying, so that's fucking impressive. ]
[ james' attention veers off to eggsy's hair. watching the way it falls, watching the way it musses. he wonders, briefly, if it staying in place is important to eggsy and he's struck with the urge to reach up and set it all back into place before realizing how wholly unnecessary the act would be and then his eyes are back on eggsy's. he catches it just in time to hear the way he sounds around before he died. in time to notice the shadow that seems to push down over his shoulders.
the profound sadness that comes with it is what has james pushing to sit up a little more. he knows that eggsy isn't talking about him - that wasn't ever a thought that crossed his mind - but james does feel a slight amount of guilt with it. like he could help, like he could fix whatever despair that's bothering eggsy. ]
Oi- [ his hand reaches out, then. setting on eggsy's knee and squeezing. it's a fairly comfortable gesture, considering the odd circumstances of their meeting, but james doesn't seem at all bothered by it. ] It worked, didn't it? You made the deal, and you saved him. Sounds a lot like you saved them all, to me. [ and there is a selfishness to his words, something that he seems to need to convince himself more than eggsy, but it's directed to eggsy in an attempt to ease it all. saved conversation or no, james is now intent on helping.
there's a smile to him when eggsy mentions his mom and his sister, a kind of weighted smile that only comes with a practiced kind of sadness. james misses his mom, he'll always miss his mom, but that's a wound he's learned how to live with, despite how it can tug at him. james nods, too, agreeing. understanding. eggsy pulls away and leans back and james chuckles a bit at the ease of his statement. just another save the world situation. yeah, eggsy? ]
No, I don't suppose I am. [ he leans back to mirror eggsy, his elbow now set over the back of the couch. he can still feel the alcohol, can still tell his words are more slurred than they probably should be, given the topic of conversation. but james plows through, his eyes to the mug on the table, the bottle they've made a healthy dent in, the style of the table itself. ] But there's a lot I'm willing to live with for the price. For the people who came with me. [ it feels strange to him, to forced casual tone to his words. it's still affecting him, all of this is still affecting him, but james is aware of his place in it all more now than ever before. the need to be up, the need for optimism. he knows his friends, the types of people they are, and could be, without it. from convincing a twelve year old he wasn't a monster worthy of death to pushing through the process of going into hiding at the face of their worst fear. james can do this, despite the hard, dark, cold hand clawing away at his stomach. ]
They Orbitors good at that, too- the whole- [ he waves his hand in an indiscriminate gesture. ] Saving before the end. It's how they got me and my wife. [ it's probably a little crazy, the way james actually does look brighter at the single mention of her. lily. lily evans potter. it's hard, and it's heavy, but she's here and she is honestly the only reason he still has it together. ] Our son's in the pods sleeping somewhere, though we're still looking for where. My best mates are awake and here. But that's also where it all gets a bit fucked.
[ if eggsy was worried about the conversation stumbling to a halt, james all but squashes the idea, settling in for what looks like his own half of the conversation. he's turned to face eggsy a bit more, though still effortlessly comfortable. he's tired, sure. of course he is. they've all got their own reasons to be. but he's not going to let that color the whole room. ]
[ james' hand on his knee provides instant relief, a physical touch to ground him as his emotions choke his thoughts. it doesn't strike eggsy as too forward at all. he needed it, and james knew to oblige. just like he knows how to say all the right things — must be something they teach in posh boarding schools. not exactly talking proper, but speaking well and conveying one's feelings clearly in doing so. james assures him that he saved them all, and he thinks, maybe. he had forgot to ask for ryan and jamal, though he found the latter in stasis. at least harry ensured that what remained of kingsman was salvaged, including roxy and merlin, so that takes care of the rest. yeah, maybe. he gives a few, short nods over the comforting words.
when james answers his invitation, he regards him with weary interest. yes, he's fucking exhausted; yes, his heart still sounds alarmingly loud in his ears (and his eyes feel out of sorts from his efforts to keep tears at bay); and yes, he's nearly wankered after that last shot — but james warrants his attention, drawing him to the present. his new friend speaks of gladly paying a price for the people who matter, which prompts a sharp in agreement, jaw set in determination. what wouldn't he give? please, what hasn't he given already? james keeps it together so well, selling deeply emotional assertions with a measure of casualness, that eggsy thinks he could have been a good kingsman. again, he remembers roxy. she'd be more like james than eggsy in this moment, ever the best.
the way james says 'the end' in the same way eggsy referred to harry twists his gut. surely he doesn't mean he died, even if he reacted so viscerally to eggsy mentioning the dead. a crease forms between his brows, his uncertainty rising to the surface. then, he perks up at the mention of a wife and a son. right, of course. kingsman has a no relationship policy (predating lee unwin or implemented because of him, eggsy wonders), so such things became unavailable to him after signing his own body bag. still, he won't deny the appeal of it. a proper family sounds as lovely as anything. ]
You've got a son. [ the statement lilts at the end, imbued with pleasant surprise. he noticed the ring, yeah, but a son — james can't be older than him. of course, he can visualise it abstractly. eggsy doesn't know what a good father would be like, really, but he assumes james suits the role, with his reassuring gestures and impressive composure. eggsy leans forward, eyes intent on james. the abrupt turn of the conversation wills him to be more alert than he feels. ] What's up with your mates?
[ 'cause fucked is a strong word, after james just gave him a bloody pep talk about his dead mentor. ]
[ it worked, he notices, in the way eggsy seems a little less listless and a little more together. part of him wonders if it's not for the better that eggsy just let it out, spill his thoughts and worries on a stranger who knows nothing other than eggsy can be trustworthy and eggsy is a hero. he saved his family, didn't he? his mentor? james also realizes, then, that he hasn't gotten eggsy's mentor's name, and wonders if he should ask, or if that would break whatever they've managed to salvage of the conversation.
he lets it slide for now, instead turning to his own story. letting his words curl out in casual conversation. he does know that from their history - knowing each other for little over a day or so - they most likely shouldn't be diving directly into all of this. it's heavy, it's difficult, it's death and dying and the destruction of worlds, and despite the way his head nearly spins when he turns it, james wonders if he should try for another shot. just for something to do, just for something for his hands. but he doesn't, the lurch in his stomach reminding him that he hasn't eaten nearly enough for any more of an intense night ahead, and he exhales - sounding something closer to a laugh, or maybe just a puff of air, lighter and only a little self-deprecating. ]
I do. [ he knows there is a bit of the surprise there, a question about how young he is and how he's got a family and james wants to talk about it. more than anything, he wants to talk about lily, about hogwarts, about late nights in the gryffindor dorm room keeping up sirius and remus and peter with how amazing and wonderful she is and how she definitely looked at me today in potions, mate. i'm telling you. about the first time he held harry, the first time harry laughed, the way lily looked seeing their son for the first time.
james opens his mouth to start, but then realizes he can't quite find the words. so after a few attempts - open mouth, closed smile, open mouth, laugh - he just shifts, reaching down to pull out his wallet from the back of his pocket, and then a single photo from out of there, of the two of them - lily and harry - laughing at something ridiculous he's probably doing. there is a second's hesitation before he hands it over to eggsy, lily's moving frame waving to the screen as she looks down to harry, trying to get his tiny little arms to do the same. james' smile is fond, in the only way a father's can, but the weightlessness of the look dims at the question.
he thinks about the drink again, and again decides against it, his eyes watching the moving photo a bit distractedly as he begins to speak. his voice is hollow, despite his best efforts, but not pained. not really. ] Back home we're all dealing with this war. Some witches and wizards think there's some kind of 'blood purity' to being able to use magic. It's all a fucking mess, really- [ there is something dark hidden under james' voice, a hatred for what is happening. but when he cuts himself off, he finds himself sighing, his own hand moving to card his fingers through his own hair. ] But they're all behind this one dark one. Voldemort. [ he keeps pressing, not quite letting himself get caught up on each thought that comes to mind. ] There was a prophecy, that a child would be born powerful enough to destroy him...
[ except that even now, james can't quite bring himself to say it. we went into hiding, we had to protect him, we couldn't let them get to harry. in the photo, baby harry is just an infant, not even a year old. lily looks so happy holding him, harry looks so young. and then, in unison, he feels like he thinks about all of it at the same time. thirteen years old and he's brilliant and voldemort came to godric's hollow. it moves by in flashes, a bit like lightning, and a few moments later james blinks, a pressure building behind his eyes.
except that won't do, will it? and james sits up a little straighter, inhaling a quick breath and pulling himself together. ]
My mates are from the future. Thirteen years after the night I apparently made the pact to be here, after Voldemort apparently showed up at our home for my son and my wife and I- well, my wife destroyed the wanker to protect our son. Who- [ his hand motions vaguely towards the photo. ] Is, apparently, thirteen now.
[ the moments following are heavy, and james immediately feels himself starting to regret saying anything at all, but with that wave of guilt and anger and hopelessness comes a bubble of something else. something effervescent and unwilling to be contained. james leans forward, running his hands over his face, as he reminds himself to breathe. breathe, breathe, and then james laughs. ]
[ eggsy is already leaning into james' space to get a look at what he was fishing for in his pockets, so he gladly accepts the photograph. he can't help but smile down at it, warmed by the magic, the sight of the gurgling baby (like little daisy squealing in his arms), and the fondness evident in lily's laughing smile. a proper, winning grin spreads across his face; the sort normally reserved for daisy doing something spectacular, or harry inviting eggsy into his life. in a way, this is james welcoming eggsy into his world. he drags his eyes to peer at james, relieved to see his delight mirrored.
but of course it fades.
despite his lack of schooling, eggsy is quick, following the explanation of the war even as he makes note of questions for later. the language itself proves so magical, it almost takes the seriousness out of the conversation. james' uncharacteristic pauses and even delivery remind him to focus. this isn't a fairy-tale, regardless of the wizards and prophecies at the center. it's about a war, even though both james and lily look so young, and a child. eggsy stares at the photo once more in dawning horror. a fucking kid.
then james confirms his conclusions. oh. his mates are from the future, in the same way eggsy is from harry's future. voldemort came for them all, but lily managed to protect their boy. only their boy. not james? did he — did she — god, he knows it isn't right or fair to think of lee unwin right now, but he does it, anyway. he thinks of a photo by his bed, the medal 'round his neck, and a dull memory of a snowglobe being taken from his hands at fucking christmas. it's shortly followed by the splatter of red on white and the sound of james shouting for him in the vr.
now, eggsy doesn't decide to touch james, but a hand finds its way to his shoulder, bracing there, moving to rub comforting circles on his back. the movement brings them side-by-side, eggsy's knees angled and knocking into the side of james' legs. he's always been more instinctual than thoughtful. maybe that'll excuse his inability to stop his stupid mouth. ]
You didn't — [ didn't die? didn't make it? he wants to confirm his hunches slot together perfectly before his eyes well up over nothing. he already blinks back tears, hoping the flutter of his lashes will serve as a final defense against the singular heartbreak that james describes from a new angle and that eggsy knows intimately from the opposite perspective. the thought of some little boy growing up without a dad, knowing the one he had was brave as hell but not invulnerable — well, that's eggsy, isn't it? his free hand brushes over the chain on his neck, james' photo still in clutched between his fingers ] Fuck. [ the hand on james tightens. shit, he releases a long exhale. his grip slackens. he sets the photograph on the table delicately, like it's a precious, breakable thing. ]
[ james is trustworthy. james is a hero. he asked for his family and friends, same as eggsy. he was willing to die to protect innocent people in the vr and in his life. that's everything eggsy needed to know. ] But you all — hey, you all made it here. [ there goes his voice again, crackling with emotion and skittering over short phrases. not now. please, not now, when he should be the strong one. he recovers, continuing softly — ] Sounds like you and Lily saved everyone.
[ his mates and each other and their son in stasis. ]
[ there’s a particular look in a person’s face when they see a photo of a child and genuinely are happy, or are faking it. james is hit, almost instantly, with a familiar kind of fondness in eggsy’s eyes. part of him almost wonders if eggsy has a kid of his own, but james doesn’t think so. maybe a sibling - he’d mentioned his sister, hadn’t he? not that it matters, truly, because james sees the photo, sees lily and harry staring back at him, and it hurts, really and truly hurts, because he looks at the photo and thinks about not being able to save them. about lily being home and hearing him die. about harry, growing up with his parents, without knowing just how unending and overflowing their love is for him, right now, just in this moment.
james should have been more descriptive. james should have explained the scenario better, gone into more detail. the long history of muggle versus wizard tensions and muggleborns and the way children are being treated with it. he could explain dumbledore, grindelwald, voldemort, but he doesn’t. he can’t. he does open his mouth again, tries to add something new, but it all falls flat somewhere in the back of his throat. it’s not choking up, necessarily, but reaching into a bag and finding nothing there. and maybe that’s the worst of it - because it’s nothing. there are no explosions, no ice, no brief, shaking memories of the vr. there, he died. and then didn’t - as was the case with not-real reality.
but for home? he thought he fixed it. he thought he saved them. as far as he knew, he’d made the decision before it happened, before voldemort had found them. it had been a sudden spike of pride, knowing that he’d done it. he actually, really done it, no matter how ridiculous or crazy or impossible this could all seem.
then he’d seen lily. and sirius, and remus. he’d seen the way they looked at them. had seen the expression on lily’s face. he has no memory of what happened, but he knows something did, just from lily. just the way she’s refused to let him walk away. it tears away at the inside of his chest, thinking about their son, harry, alone. and that’s what has the heat behind his eyes breaking over, which pushes him to press his palms to his eyes. he didn’t mean to cry, he doesn’t want to cry, but he knows it’s happening. eggsy’s hand at his back is a comfort, an ease, and he appreciate sit. ]
Didn’t what? Die? [ his words are tight, caught somewhere between his ribcage. he feels the tightness behind his eyes and he tries to laugh again, tries to just shove whatever is caught in his throat out again. but he feels the next breath shake, despite the effort to hold it still.
when james speaks, it’s soft. not quite a whisper, but not quite as confident as he’s been, either. ] You didn’t see their faces. It was like they saw a ghost.
[ the following moments are heavy, and james pushes himself through it. through the heavy weight of what he hasn’t let himself think about, through the collection of what’s happened and what it means. of the implications and what has been said. he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it, because the only reason he agreed to this was to stop that from happening. but how? why? what happened?
that’s when eggsy’s voice breaks in, when his hand grips the back of his shirt, and james’ inhale is sharp as he sits back up, wiping away at his face with his hands. ] Hell, that was more than I meant. I’m sorry, mate. That- [ despite the change in tone, there are still some hints of the earlier breakdown. but whereas before it had overwhelmed james, james is controlling it, now. controlling what is happening, despite the fact his eyes are definitely red. honestly, it’s in spite of the red that james grins back over to eggsy, his face blotchy. when he does turn, he sees the way eggsy’s eyes have started to water himself, and he’s struck with that same sense of camaraderie again. it’s rather impressive, in a way, how they’ve each found each other in opposite situations. he sees the emotion behind his eyes, sees that he’s having his own response in light of it, and james feels immediately responsible. ]
Dunno about everyone. My mates got here on their own making deals, my wife got here doing it too, but as long as I can find my son out there? [ his eyes glance back to the door, towards the pods, towards the search and finding nothing. but with tears still wet on his cheeks, james can hold that bit in. ] And if your mentor’s here? And your mum and sister? It’s not all hopeless.
[ james watches eggsy for a second before his gut acts before his head can follow, both of his hands reaching out to settle on each of eggsy’s shoulders. just to catch his eyes, just to get eggsy to really look at him, and then james feels himself break into a grin. ] Look at us. Brought up to a space ship and saved our worlds and we’re right messes.
[ he doesn't really know if they really ought to be here, emotionally, but failing the simulation together removed all chances of avoiding intimacy. as soon as james' tears spill over, eggsy feels a rivulet slide down his cheek. oh. his training and protocol would suggest he remove himself from this situation. instead, he shifts his arm to more wrap around james, tugging him in for a hug. there are too many layers of emotion plaguing him to resist the urge. grief over his own losses (and those of james' son), solace at the dead being given a second chance (particularly someone as deserving as james), fondness over the honesty at play here that eggsy wasn't brave enough to offer harry earlier. ]
Hey. Hey. [ soothing and warm, as ever, mimicking what harry did for him today; what his mum has done every time a bruise blossomed on his skin. ] I don't mind. [ for a brief moment, he lets his head fall on james' shoulder. there's nothing like a physical anchor, smoothing out the creases of worry in his features and knots in his stomach. softly — ] And you don't feel like a ghost, besides.
[ though he knows, then, that james died. just like harry. it's only his very real presence that prevents eggsy from cycling through the whiplash of loss and regains yet again. two people he knows have died twice. what are the odds? he would laugh in shaky disbelief, if it wouldn't be so inappropriate for the fragile mood.
james pulls away, hands firm on eggsy's shoulder and again, he feels reassured. more than you should. yes, far more than he should, when james has revealed himself to be acutely vulnerable. ]
Yeah, things are already looking up, huh? [ important people appearing left and right. others saved from the end of the world and safe in stasis. he returns the grin without hesitation. ] We've got plenty of time. [ to live. ] For you to show me tricks and vice versa, I mean.
[ 'cause he does have a few up his sleeve, even if he shouldn't show-off. ]
[ it doesn't matter what it was they'd done together. they'd done enough, as far as james was concerned. history or no, eggsy was the kind of person he wanted in his circle. did he mean to come into this and end up crying? no. but with the stress and the pressure and the alcohol, he shouldn't be all that surprised. still, there is a moment there when james is trying to pull himself together and eggsy just reaches over and pulls him close, and it feels. okay. not good, not great, but okay.
his arms wrap around eggsy's back as he ends up burying his face in his shoulder, telling himself he just has to breathe. let it happen, and breathe. his hands are bunched in the back of eggsy's shirt, making a mess of the whole thing he's sure, but he doesn't focus on it too much, the comfort of an anchor and eggsy's voice working well enough. you don't feel like a ghost has him chuckling lightly, thinking about sir nick back at hogwarts, about peeves. he tightens his hold around eggsy for just a moment longer, enough to get out: ] Thank Merlin for that, right? [ before he is pulling back, apologizing, setting his hands on eggsy's shoulders. ]
I'd say so. [ and with a last squeeze of eggsy's shoulders, james pulls his hands away, resettleing back on the couch and trying his best to subtly wipe away at his face. the embarrassment of crying in front of someone settles in his gut, alongside the alcohol, and james is acutely aware of just how drunk he is. ]
Dunno what teaching you tricks will do, mate. But I can try. [ and james smiles, lets the smile fade into another laugh, thinking about showing eggsy more tricks. more spells. more charms. what lily would say, or sirius. merlin he wants to introduce eggsy to sirius. but not...tonight. later. sometime later. just like eggsy said - we've got plenty of time. ]
[ thank merlin. ha. it still amuses him. thank merlin, who would tell eggsy to stop crying and stay strong just as easily as he'd reassure eggsy that harry would be proud. god, eggsy misses him, too.
he eases away from james, returning the light laughter all the while. he feels light-headed, his thoughts smudgy at the edges. perhaps he is drunk. after all the emotions and booze, his words drift out lazier than before. despite the haze of alcohol, eggsy forgoes the obvious (yet forbidden) answers available to him. could teach you to flip a man twice your size with one-hand. could show you an umbrella that fires bullets or the poisoned blades in my posh-as-shit oxfords. he can't share those tricks, not with anyone who isn't (or wasn't, his mind supplies unhelpfully) a kingsman. ]
You ever been freerunning? [ a wistful sigh. he longs for his city, uneven and sprawling, with all sorts of nooks for him to enjoy. he thinks of vaulting the stairs at waterloo and swinging around the tight turns at boxcat. even jumping down from his council estate to escape dean's thugs delights him now. after a moment, he offers james a sideways smile, mischief glittering in his eyes. ] Or thieved a motor from a fucking dickhead — and done figure-eights forwards and backwards so fast the carriage feels like it'll split?
[ an excellent memory springs forward: endless donuts in an abandoned car park that left poodle's halfway-to-shit tires smoking from the friction. ]
[ james is definitely drunk, a fact he accepted well enough into this. the crying didn't help, and then the abrupt shift in emotion only adds to that heavy feeling in his head, the slow glow around the edges of his eyes. it's definitely not bad, a haze james knows well and true and how to function in, but he does feel that tiredness start to creep in.
lily is back in their room, probably asleep, and that thought alone eases his mind.
then there's the question, and that feeling james has that eggsy is hiding his first, initial answers. the feeling that there is so much more under eggsy's skin than he's letting on, and the curiosity eats at him. but james tucks it away, never being one to push for things like that, and instead making a show of thinking about it. ] Thieving motors, yeah. Got chased down for it too. But I can't say much for the others- we tend to keep to brooms and apparating for transport.
[ yes. brooms. oh how he misses his broomstick.
but he can't deny his initial interest in what exactly eggsy meant with all that. he'd never bothered to learn how to drive, not really, but the idea had always intrigued him. ] But it sounds like my kind of lesson. I'm up for it if you are?
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So, you've got wizard rules. [ there's amusement lilting his tone, too. mischief always charms him, even now that he travels along the straight and narrow. ] Perfect for breaking, naturally. [ already broken for eggsy, of course, reinforcing their friendship with a precious secret. well, that and the delight that comes with flipping off authority, yeah? not to mention the implication that james doesn't think of non-magical people as lesser, especially not when he picked eggsy to enjoy his magic.
all of it pushes eggsy closer to violating the code that binds him, and yet he resists, taking james' observation with a private smile and soft shake of his head. another swig of whiskey seems wise, buying him time to construct an adequate reply. ]
I've been through some mad shit, bruv. [ which is more than he should say despite its vague implications. a cocktail of memories come to mind. his signet ring electrocuting charlie, valentine spouting his james bond-esque villainy, a fucking princess warming to his advances — but harry most of all, rocking up to him outside the observation room in a pristine, bespoke suit. eggsy swallows. he may be a spy, but the flicker of conflict on his face is obvious. he can't tell james about kingsman, no, but there's something far closer to his heart worth sharing. his thoughts aren't conducive to their present mood, so refreshing and sparkling, but he knows there's anxiety running rivulets down their spines (from the events of the vr and all that came after, only forgotten during peels of laughter). anything said won't be reversible, not with his watch confiscated by the orbiters. he knocks back more of his drink, aware of the alcohol softening his thoughts. might loosen his tongue as well, if he isn't careful. he forges onward, attempting to around casual but failing to convey neutrality. he knows his tells these days: trailing off mid-sentence is one of them. ]
Like, you ever seen someone...come back from the dead?
[ being magic and all. he doesn't think that's what happened with harry, exactly, given that he specifically asked for his mentor to be rescued before his demise (wish fucking granted, for once in his life). ]
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Oh, naturally. Back home they'd have me obliviate. [ and then, when he realizes how little context that allows: ] Wipe your memory. I'd likely be put on trial, have my whole record looked at... [ there's a dramatic, unnecessarily grave look james makes at the sound of that, before he devolves into that same quiet chuckling from before. he feels comfortable in a way he hasn't since hogwarts. like he can breathe, like he can joke, like there isn't going to be a deatheater kicking down the door the second he lets his guard down. it feels good.
it is the mention of that 'mad shit' that has james' brow arching up to his forehead, curious, but also aware. aware of the fact there is definitely a secret, even if he's not confident he's going to find out what it is. be it the alcohol, or the companionship, but james doesn't much of an issue with that at the current moment. eggsy doesn't need to spill his secrets to him. this telling of his own, this opening up to eggsy, was enough for him.
but at the same time, he does notice the way eggsy's demeanor shifts. as subtle or not as it is, james sees it, no special training necessary. like watching a slowly descending cloud, or a figure slowly crossing over the firelight, the shadow creeps in and james watches it, watches eggsy take another drink, watches him try, really and honestly try, to hide whatever it is that he's deciding if he wants to talk about. when the questions is finally asked, though, james realizes how wholly unprepared he is for it, and belatedly finds himself thankful that he'd set his own mug on his knee before the words even left eggsy's mouth.
like, you ever seen someone...come back from the dead?
part of james knows that eggsy couldn't have figured it out. part of him understands that it's probably just eggsy attributing magic to all things magical. sleeping kings and merlin and bringing back your greatest loves. but that's not where james' mind goes. that's not what drains the color from his face like a bucket of water dumped over his head. it takes effort to get himself to take that next breath, and then the one following. he doesn't know how long the silence stretches after, either, because he feels himself turn and face the room again, his vision blurring back. ]
No. [ is what he does, finally, hear himself say. low, though surprisingly even. ] There were rumors of ancient spells, maybe. Forbidden magics. But I'd never seen it. [ his eyes his mug, thinks about sirius out on the ice, and lily's ashen face. voldemort came to godric's hollow.
in a rush of movement, james picks up his mug and knocks back the remainder of his cup - a double, maybe a little more. he swallows it back and presses the back of his hand to his mouth. swallowing once, then again, before he feels the pressure of the drink subside. ] Until I got here, at least. [ and then, like the words that had just left his mouth were as simple as him asking eggsy about his bright yellow jacket, he leans forward to grab the bottle and refill it. there is a half-second somewhere in there that he pauses, feeling the alcohol a bit belatedly from the drink itself, and james realizes - quite suddenly - that he is well on his way, if he's not already arrived, to drunk.
he's also, at the current moment, unsure if this will aid or worsen the situation. not that he's in any mind to otherwise change where he is. if he's going to get properly smashed and talk about this god-awful place, then so be it. eggsy will just have to understand. ]
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no, eggsy couldn't have figured it out. even now, he doesn't understand. he feels that he must have pushed his luck, steering their conversation out the airlock. he ought to have deflected, exploring james' abilities as he had the best kingsman gadgets. eggsy knows what panic looks like, the way it snatches colour from someone's face and warps their features. everything from roxy lifting off, her small hands shaking in his, to harry stumbling out of a church in kentucky, wrecked beyond eggsy's comprehension, has given him the practical exposure to complement his theoretical knowledge. james is not okay. and it's eggsy's fault. ]
Sorry. [ for his loss? for mentioning the dour topic instead of pursuing the magic? he doesn't know if it will be well-received, after cocking up the mood, but eggsy braces a hand on james' shoulder. it might be selfish as well, with touch grounding him as much as james. he lets out a ragged exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. ] I just — I can't stop thinking about it.
[ about how he wasn't with harry, but he still watched him die the first time. he'll never forget the sound of a single shot to the head, crackling through skull and sinew, the chill of valentine's words twisting, vice-like, at his heart. it's not that kind of movie. the second time, he held harry's hand, eyes watering and mouth begging please, mr. hart — harry, please, hold on, i promise i'll get you back to the city. that was more like a movie, wasn't it? a moment that seemed like hours.
eggsy wants to ask james if he knows for a fact that the person died, if he fucking saw it himself. he manages to reign in the disastrous impulse. ]
Shit, definitely not where you meant for that comment to go. [ you're taking it pretty well. he squeezes james' shoulder, reassuring. ] Forget it. [ he glances at the remainder of his drink. he's not drunk, but he feels himself drifting. he started drinking without james, after all. ] I'm not normally this messy. Swear down.
[ he's normally getting wankered and bantering with his mates and stealing shitheads' cars. ]
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but it all fades away, fairly quickly, at the mention of it. death, resurrection, coming back from the dead. james' stomach is in knots and really, that's a bit dangerous, considering the amount of alcohol in it. considering how his head starts to move a bit more fluidly, slow. eggsy is apologizing, eggsy is noticing, and james immediately feels himself moving - his understanding of his reactions a half second delayed from the actual act of it. ]
No, merlin, don't apologize. It's- [ he takes a breath, his fingers itching. he supposes he should pick the mug up from the table, considering how he has his hand already wrapped around it, but instead he sighs and slips his hand away, his eyes falling down to the ground under the table. he can feel eggsy's guilt radiating out from the spot next to him, and james hates it. hates how he couldn't keep it together enough for the night, how he's all but ruined whatever conversation that had going. james wishes, in a way, he could have a second go at reacting. a second go at hearing those words and knowing what to do with them.
instead, he exhales - slow and weighted and all together an attempt to push away this feeling. because what use is it now? feeling sorry for himself was never something james liked to do, never a feeling he would let anyone dwell in if he could. what's so different about him? this? another exhale, and then rubs at his face with his hand. ] No, not really, but- [ then james feels himself bark out a laugh, a little dark and a little heavy, before he falls back to lean into the couch. ] But that's part of this place, isn't it? Saving the world, getting people back. [ it's a forced attempt at casual, effort to sound effortless, in equal parts trying to ease eggsy out of it and convince himself that there's no reason to panic anymore. what's done is done, and he's here, and the world isn't, and harry is somewhere but what does it really matter until they find him?
when he notices eggsy eyeing the drinks, he motions out with his hand. ] Not gonna finish mine, you're free to it. [ and then, because it's been brought up and james, despite his best efforts, can't find it in himself to censor. not now, when words are easy and his body heavy. he weaves his fingers together and sets his palms down on his abdomen, looking over at eggsy with the kind of simply curiosity that could only, really, come with a good amount of alcohol. ]
Were they part of your deal? When you agreed to this whole thing?
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Yeah. [ he cards a hand through his already messy hair, letting his head rest for a moment, expression obscured. any remnants of gel have been dislodged. idly, he makes a note to put his snapback back on before he leaves. well, if he leaves. ] I asked for the Orbiters to get him before he — before he died. [ he knows how profoundly sad and desperate that sounds. it's written in the way his frown tightens and heard in the stutter over the word died. all the training in the world wouldn't stop his voice from sounding thick with emotion. not over this. ] 'Cause I owe him everything. [ that rationalises the request, doesn't it? it adds dimension, making eggsy more than someone starved for affection, asking for one of the few people who believed in him, to defy the laws of life and existence. ]
Figured if they could get blokes like us [ he and james, in this instance ] before the end of the world, they could get him before the... end. [ he hazards a glance at james, entirely soft and unguarded. in that moment, he decides to help rescue the conversation. ] Asked for me mum and sister, too. [ there's fondness there, lifting the statement, even if it remains tinged with uncertainty and sadness from discussing harry's revival. ] They're still sleepin' though.
[ there's an invitation here, too, for james' to mention his deal with the orbiters, if he chooses. eggsy won't ask outright. ]
[ firmer — ] Just part of this place, I guess, like you said. [ he echoes james' earlier words, finding them oddly comforting. it's not some miracle occurrence, right? (even if it's horribly special to eggsy) resurrection is another facet of this new world, affecting people like alan and james as well. before now, eggsy adapted from common type to high-class spy. adding supernatural nonsense his cv should be fine. he leans back, removing his other hand from james' shoulder. ] Yeah, just another save the world situation.
[ like it had been when he killed chester king and stopped valentine. he looks to james again, corners of his mouth curling a smidge. ]
You ain't taking it horribly.
[ saving the world, meeting up with dead people, hanging out with a chap walking an emotional tightrope and struggling to maintain his balance. a reference to james telling him he was 'handling it pretty well' minutes ago. is it terrible, if he sounds a touch amused? there's a sort of humour to this, surely, the kind that bubbles over from tension. no, he and james are not handling it 'pretty well' any longer, but nobody's crying, so that's fucking impressive. ]
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the profound sadness that comes with it is what has james pushing to sit up a little more. he knows that eggsy isn't talking about him - that wasn't ever a thought that crossed his mind - but james does feel a slight amount of guilt with it. like he could help, like he could fix whatever despair that's bothering eggsy. ]
Oi- [ his hand reaches out, then. setting on eggsy's knee and squeezing. it's a fairly comfortable gesture, considering the odd circumstances of their meeting, but james doesn't seem at all bothered by it. ] It worked, didn't it? You made the deal, and you saved him. Sounds a lot like you saved them all, to me. [ and there is a selfishness to his words, something that he seems to need to convince himself more than eggsy, but it's directed to eggsy in an attempt to ease it all. saved conversation or no, james is now intent on helping.
there's a smile to him when eggsy mentions his mom and his sister, a kind of weighted smile that only comes with a practiced kind of sadness. james misses his mom, he'll always miss his mom, but that's a wound he's learned how to live with, despite how it can tug at him. james nods, too, agreeing. understanding. eggsy pulls away and leans back and james chuckles a bit at the ease of his statement. just another save the world situation. yeah, eggsy? ]
No, I don't suppose I am. [ he leans back to mirror eggsy, his elbow now set over the back of the couch. he can still feel the alcohol, can still tell his words are more slurred than they probably should be, given the topic of conversation. but james plows through, his eyes to the mug on the table, the bottle they've made a healthy dent in, the style of the table itself. ] But there's a lot I'm willing to live with for the price. For the people who came with me. [ it feels strange to him, to forced casual tone to his words. it's still affecting him, all of this is still affecting him, but james is aware of his place in it all more now than ever before. the need to be up, the need for optimism. he knows his friends, the types of people they are, and could be, without it. from convincing a twelve year old he wasn't a monster worthy of death to pushing through the process of going into hiding at the face of their worst fear. james can do this, despite the hard, dark, cold hand clawing away at his stomach. ]
They Orbitors good at that, too- the whole- [ he waves his hand in an indiscriminate gesture. ] Saving before the end. It's how they got me and my wife. [ it's probably a little crazy, the way james actually does look brighter at the single mention of her. lily. lily evans potter. it's hard, and it's heavy, but she's here and she is honestly the only reason he still has it together. ] Our son's in the pods sleeping somewhere, though we're still looking for where. My best mates are awake and here. But that's also where it all gets a bit fucked.
[ if eggsy was worried about the conversation stumbling to a halt, james all but squashes the idea, settling in for what looks like his own half of the conversation. he's turned to face eggsy a bit more, though still effortlessly comfortable. he's tired, sure. of course he is. they've all got their own reasons to be. but he's not going to let that color the whole room. ]
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when james answers his invitation, he regards him with weary interest. yes, he's fucking exhausted; yes, his heart still sounds alarmingly loud in his ears (and his eyes feel out of sorts from his efforts to keep tears at bay); and yes, he's nearly wankered after that last shot — but james warrants his attention, drawing him to the present. his new friend speaks of gladly paying a price for the people who matter, which prompts a sharp in agreement, jaw set in determination. what wouldn't he give? please, what hasn't he given already? james keeps it together so well, selling deeply emotional assertions with a measure of casualness, that eggsy thinks he could have been a good kingsman. again, he remembers roxy. she'd be more like james than eggsy in this moment, ever the best.
the way james says 'the end' in the same way eggsy referred to harry twists his gut. surely he doesn't mean he died, even if he reacted so viscerally to eggsy mentioning the dead. a crease forms between his brows, his uncertainty rising to the surface. then, he perks up at the mention of a wife and a son. right, of course. kingsman has a no relationship policy (predating lee unwin or implemented because of him, eggsy wonders), so such things became unavailable to him after signing his own body bag. still, he won't deny the appeal of it. a proper family sounds as lovely as anything. ]
You've got a son. [ the statement lilts at the end, imbued with pleasant surprise. he noticed the ring, yeah, but a son — james can't be older than him. of course, he can visualise it abstractly. eggsy doesn't know what a good father would be like, really, but he assumes james suits the role, with his reassuring gestures and impressive composure. eggsy leans forward, eyes intent on james. the abrupt turn of the conversation wills him to be more alert than he feels. ] What's up with your mates?
[ 'cause fucked is a strong word, after james just gave him a bloody pep talk about his dead mentor. ]
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he lets it slide for now, instead turning to his own story. letting his words curl out in casual conversation. he does know that from their history - knowing each other for little over a day or so - they most likely shouldn't be diving directly into all of this. it's heavy, it's difficult, it's death and dying and the destruction of worlds, and despite the way his head nearly spins when he turns it, james wonders if he should try for another shot. just for something to do, just for something for his hands. but he doesn't, the lurch in his stomach reminding him that he hasn't eaten nearly enough for any more of an intense night ahead, and he exhales - sounding something closer to a laugh, or maybe just a puff of air, lighter and only a little self-deprecating. ]
I do. [ he knows there is a bit of the surprise there, a question about how young he is and how he's got a family and james wants to talk about it. more than anything, he wants to talk about lily, about hogwarts, about late nights in the gryffindor dorm room keeping up sirius and remus and peter with how amazing and wonderful she is and how she definitely looked at me today in potions, mate. i'm telling you. about the first time he held harry, the first time harry laughed, the way lily looked seeing their son for the first time.
james opens his mouth to start, but then realizes he can't quite find the words. so after a few attempts - open mouth, closed smile, open mouth, laugh - he just shifts, reaching down to pull out his wallet from the back of his pocket, and then a single photo from out of there, of the two of them - lily and harry - laughing at something ridiculous he's probably doing. there is a second's hesitation before he hands it over to eggsy, lily's moving frame waving to the screen as she looks down to harry, trying to get his tiny little arms to do the same. james' smile is fond, in the only way a father's can, but the weightlessness of the look dims at the question.
he thinks about the drink again, and again decides against it, his eyes watching the moving photo a bit distractedly as he begins to speak. his voice is hollow, despite his best efforts, but not pained. not really. ] Back home we're all dealing with this war. Some witches and wizards think there's some kind of 'blood purity' to being able to use magic. It's all a fucking mess, really- [ there is something dark hidden under james' voice, a hatred for what is happening. but when he cuts himself off, he finds himself sighing, his own hand moving to card his fingers through his own hair. ] But they're all behind this one dark one. Voldemort. [ he keeps pressing, not quite letting himself get caught up on each thought that comes to mind. ] There was a prophecy, that a child would be born powerful enough to destroy him...
[ except that even now, james can't quite bring himself to say it. we went into hiding, we had to protect him, we couldn't let them get to harry. in the photo, baby harry is just an infant, not even a year old. lily looks so happy holding him, harry looks so young. and then, in unison, he feels like he thinks about all of it at the same time. thirteen years old and he's brilliant and voldemort came to godric's hollow. it moves by in flashes, a bit like lightning, and a few moments later james blinks, a pressure building behind his eyes.
except that won't do, will it? and james sits up a little straighter, inhaling a quick breath and pulling himself together. ]
My mates are from the future. Thirteen years after the night I apparently made the pact to be here, after Voldemort apparently showed up at our home for my son and my wife and I- well, my wife destroyed the wanker to protect our son. Who- [ his hand motions vaguely towards the photo. ] Is, apparently, thirteen now.
[ the moments following are heavy, and james immediately feels himself starting to regret saying anything at all, but with that wave of guilt and anger and hopelessness comes a bubble of something else. something effervescent and unwilling to be contained. james leans forward, running his hands over his face, as he reminds himself to breathe. breathe, breathe, and then james laughs. ]
See what I meant about fucked?
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but of course it fades.
despite his lack of schooling, eggsy is quick, following the explanation of the war even as he makes note of questions for later. the language itself proves so magical, it almost takes the seriousness out of the conversation. james' uncharacteristic pauses and even delivery remind him to focus. this isn't a fairy-tale, regardless of the wizards and prophecies at the center. it's about a war, even though both james and lily look so young, and a child. eggsy stares at the photo once more in dawning horror. a fucking kid.
then james confirms his conclusions. oh. his mates are from the future, in the same way eggsy is from harry's future. voldemort came for them all, but lily managed to protect their boy. only their boy. not james? did he — did she — god, he knows it isn't right or fair to think of lee unwin right now, but he does it, anyway. he thinks of a photo by his bed, the medal 'round his neck, and a dull memory of a snowglobe being taken from his hands at fucking christmas. it's shortly followed by the splatter of red on white and the sound of james shouting for him in the vr.
now, eggsy doesn't decide to touch james, but a hand finds its way to his shoulder, bracing there, moving to rub comforting circles on his back. the movement brings them side-by-side, eggsy's knees angled and knocking into the side of james' legs. he's always been more instinctual than thoughtful. maybe that'll excuse his inability to stop his stupid mouth. ]
You didn't — [ didn't die? didn't make it? he wants to confirm his hunches slot together perfectly before his eyes well up over nothing. he already blinks back tears, hoping the flutter of his lashes will serve as a final defense against the singular heartbreak that james describes from a new angle and that eggsy knows intimately from the opposite perspective. the thought of some little boy growing up without a dad, knowing the one he had was brave as hell but not invulnerable — well, that's eggsy, isn't it? his free hand brushes over the chain on his neck, james' photo still in clutched between his fingers ] Fuck. [ the hand on james tightens. shit, he releases a long exhale. his grip slackens. he sets the photograph on the table delicately, like it's a precious, breakable thing. ]
[ james is trustworthy. james is a hero. he asked for his family and friends, same as eggsy. he was willing to die to protect innocent people in the vr and in his life. that's everything eggsy needed to know. ] But you all — hey, you all made it here. [ there goes his voice again, crackling with emotion and skittering over short phrases. not now. please, not now, when he should be the strong one. he recovers, continuing softly — ] Sounds like you and Lily saved everyone.
[ his mates and each other and their son in stasis. ]
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james should have been more descriptive. james should have explained the scenario better, gone into more detail. the long history of muggle versus wizard tensions and muggleborns and the way children are being treated with it. he could explain dumbledore, grindelwald, voldemort, but he doesn’t. he can’t. he does open his mouth again, tries to add something new, but it all falls flat somewhere in the back of his throat. it’s not choking up, necessarily, but reaching into a bag and finding nothing there. and maybe that’s the worst of it - because it’s nothing. there are no explosions, no ice, no brief, shaking memories of the vr. there, he died. and then didn’t - as was the case with not-real reality.
but for home? he thought he fixed it. he thought he saved them. as far as he knew, he’d made the decision before it happened, before voldemort had found them. it had been a sudden spike of pride, knowing that he’d done it. he actually, really done it, no matter how ridiculous or crazy or impossible this could all seem.
then he’d seen lily. and sirius, and remus. he’d seen the way they looked at them. had seen the expression on lily’s face. he has no memory of what happened, but he knows something did, just from lily. just the way she’s refused to let him walk away. it tears away at the inside of his chest, thinking about their son, harry, alone. and that’s what has the heat behind his eyes breaking over, which pushes him to press his palms to his eyes. he didn’t mean to cry, he doesn’t want to cry, but he knows it’s happening. eggsy’s hand at his back is a comfort, an ease, and he appreciate sit. ]
Didn’t what? Die? [ his words are tight, caught somewhere between his ribcage. he feels the tightness behind his eyes and he tries to laugh again, tries to just shove whatever is caught in his throat out again. but he feels the next breath shake, despite the effort to hold it still.
when james speaks, it’s soft. not quite a whisper, but not quite as confident as he’s been, either. ] You didn’t see their faces. It was like they saw a ghost.
[ the following moments are heavy, and james pushes himself through it. through the heavy weight of what he hasn’t let himself think about, through the collection of what’s happened and what it means. of the implications and what has been said. he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it, because the only reason he agreed to this was to stop that from happening. but how? why? what happened?
that’s when eggsy’s voice breaks in, when his hand grips the back of his shirt, and james’ inhale is sharp as he sits back up, wiping away at his face with his hands. ] Hell, that was more than I meant. I’m sorry, mate. That- [ despite the change in tone, there are still some hints of the earlier breakdown. but whereas before it had overwhelmed james, james is controlling it, now. controlling what is happening, despite the fact his eyes are definitely red. honestly, it’s in spite of the red that james grins back over to eggsy, his face blotchy. when he does turn, he sees the way eggsy’s eyes have started to water himself, and he’s struck with that same sense of camaraderie again. it’s rather impressive, in a way, how they’ve each found each other in opposite situations. he sees the emotion behind his eyes, sees that he’s having his own response in light of it, and james feels immediately responsible. ]
Dunno about everyone. My mates got here on their own making deals, my wife got here doing it too, but as long as I can find my son out there? [ his eyes glance back to the door, towards the pods, towards the search and finding nothing. but with tears still wet on his cheeks, james can hold that bit in. ] And if your mentor’s here? And your mum and sister? It’s not all hopeless.
[ james watches eggsy for a second before his gut acts before his head can follow, both of his hands reaching out to settle on each of eggsy’s shoulders. just to catch his eyes, just to get eggsy to really look at him, and then james feels himself break into a grin. ] Look at us. Brought up to a space ship and saved our worlds and we’re right messes.
sorry for the delay!!
Hey. Hey. [ soothing and warm, as ever, mimicking what harry did for him today; what his mum has done every time a bruise blossomed on his skin. ] I don't mind. [ for a brief moment, he lets his head fall on james' shoulder. there's nothing like a physical anchor, smoothing out the creases of worry in his features and knots in his stomach. softly — ] And you don't feel like a ghost, besides.
[ though he knows, then, that james died. just like harry. it's only his very real presence that prevents eggsy from cycling through the whiplash of loss and regains yet again. two people he knows have died twice. what are the odds? he would laugh in shaky disbelief, if it wouldn't be so inappropriate for the fragile mood.
james pulls away, hands firm on eggsy's shoulder and again, he feels reassured. more than you should. yes, far more than he should, when james has revealed himself to be acutely vulnerable. ]
Yeah, things are already looking up, huh? [ important people appearing left and right. others saved from the end of the world and safe in stasis. he returns the grin without hesitation. ] We've got plenty of time. [ to live. ] For you to show me tricks and vice versa, I mean.
[ 'cause he does have a few up his sleeve, even if he shouldn't show-off. ]
don't ever be sorry it is all good c:
his arms wrap around eggsy's back as he ends up burying his face in his shoulder, telling himself he just has to breathe. let it happen, and breathe. his hands are bunched in the back of eggsy's shirt, making a mess of the whole thing he's sure, but he doesn't focus on it too much, the comfort of an anchor and eggsy's voice working well enough. you don't feel like a ghost has him chuckling lightly, thinking about sir nick back at hogwarts, about peeves. he tightens his hold around eggsy for just a moment longer, enough to get out: ] Thank Merlin for that, right? [ before he is pulling back, apologizing, setting his hands on eggsy's shoulders. ]
I'd say so. [ and with a last squeeze of eggsy's shoulders, james pulls his hands away, resettleing back on the couch and trying his best to subtly wipe away at his face. the embarrassment of crying in front of someone settles in his gut, alongside the alcohol, and james is acutely aware of just how drunk he is. ]
Dunno what teaching you tricks will do, mate. But I can try. [ and james smiles, lets the smile fade into another laugh, thinking about showing eggsy more tricks. more spells. more charms. what lily would say, or sirius. merlin he wants to introduce eggsy to sirius. but not...tonight. later. sometime later. just like eggsy said - we've got plenty of time. ]
What's it you're going to teach me, then?
<3
he eases away from james, returning the light laughter all the while. he feels light-headed, his thoughts smudgy at the edges. perhaps he is drunk. after all the emotions and booze, his words drift out lazier than before. despite the haze of alcohol, eggsy forgoes the obvious (yet forbidden) answers available to him. could teach you to flip a man twice your size with one-hand. could show you an umbrella that fires bullets or the poisoned blades in my posh-as-shit oxfords. he can't share those tricks, not with anyone who isn't (or wasn't, his mind supplies unhelpfully) a kingsman. ]
You ever been freerunning? [ a wistful sigh. he longs for his city, uneven and sprawling, with all sorts of nooks for him to enjoy. he thinks of vaulting the stairs at waterloo and swinging around the tight turns at boxcat. even jumping down from his council estate to escape dean's thugs delights him now. after a moment, he offers james a sideways smile, mischief glittering in his eyes. ] Or thieved a motor from a fucking dickhead — and done figure-eights forwards and backwards so fast the carriage feels like it'll split?
[ an excellent memory springs forward: endless donuts in an abandoned car park that left poodle's halfway-to-shit tires smoking from the friction. ]
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lily is back in their room, probably asleep, and that thought alone eases his mind.
then there's the question, and that feeling james has that eggsy is hiding his first, initial answers. the feeling that there is so much more under eggsy's skin than he's letting on, and the curiosity eats at him. but james tucks it away, never being one to push for things like that, and instead making a show of thinking about it. ] Thieving motors, yeah. Got chased down for it too. But I can't say much for the others- we tend to keep to brooms and apparating for transport.
[ yes. brooms. oh how he misses his broomstick.
but he can't deny his initial interest in what exactly eggsy meant with all that. he'd never bothered to learn how to drive, not really, but the idea had always intrigued him. ] But it sounds like my kind of lesson. I'm up for it if you are?