A/N: Again, thanks to ivefoundmygoldfish(melonpanparade) for beta-reading and helping me with a few paragraphs I wasn't sure about! Also, this is entirely borsival-gives-me-life's fault...

Valediction

"Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost." – Khalil Gibran

"I don't understand why you are so strictly against it." James held up his hands in exasperation.

"Why?!" Percy stared at him in annoyance. "Have you forgotten what we are doing, James?"

"As a matter of fact, no I haven't. But you are missing the point." They scrutinized one another over the workbench of the kitchen. Before them were a bunch of vegetables, half chopped and entirely forgotten.

"Oh really?" Percy said icily. "What point? That we risk ending up dead every day? That there's a high chance that when we die, it won't be from a natural cause and it'll probably involve quite an amount of pain?"

"That we save lives," James corrected him, while grabbing a tomato and cutting it in half with more force than was necessary. Of course Percy was also right, but James usually tucked that thought away in some secluded place of his mind. It wasn't good to dwell on uncertainties; and he rather wouldn't think of the possibility of his husband dying on the other side of the world.

"So you're fine with her putting her life at risk as long as you can run around and kill people together with her?" Percy knew he was being unnecessarily harsh, but the anger and fear for his sister - and James, in a way - stopped him from thinking straight.

James just sighed, already tired of fighting. In their twelve years of marriage they hadn't had many serious arguments, but today was an especially bad day. James knew they were both exhausted from the past few weeks and more than ready for their two weeks off after his next mission.

In a pleading tone James continued more quietly, "Come on, now. That's not fair. You know that I care for Roxy just as much –"

"Oh, really." Percy interrupted him, sarcasm lacing his voice. He knew he'd overstepped a line. It wasn't fair – abhorrent even – but invisible fear had blocked out logic.

"I'm sorry?!" Perplexed, James laid aside his knife.

Percy couldn't stop himself. "Well, last time I checked she wasn't your sister!" he snapped back.

"She's like a daughter to me, you know that!" James couldn't believe Percy would doubt that. From the day on James had set foot into this house, from the day on he'd laid eyes on the five year old girl, he'd loved her with every fibre of his being. They'd raised her together; sixteen complicated, but happy years James wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

"Why do you want her dead then?" Percy's cold stare could have cut through ice, but it found James' heart instead. He regretted his words the moment they'd left his mouth, but he was too proud and upset to take them back.

"I want her to be happy," James replied frantically.

"And you just happen to know what she wants?"

"It's her dream to become a Kingsman, Percy; you've seen it." He gesticulated wildly, his hands stopping to point at both himself and the other agent. "We have awoken that wish in her; how can you not respect that and be proud? How can you even think about forcing her to keep studying at St. Andrew's if all she wants is to uphold our legacy?"

"It's the logical thing to do."

"A life as a scientist looked away in some lab? What comes next? A husband, kids, and housework? She would pine away."

"But she would live."

James stared at him in incredulity. There was no chance Percy could really mean that.

"She would be alive, yes, but her spirit would be dead. Surely you are not so narrow-minded that you can't see that."

"Narrow-minded," Percival repeated slowly. His eyes darkened with unrestrained fury. "You think my desire to keep Roxy safe, alive, is narrow-minded."

"That's not what I mean. Please, just calm down and when you –"

"Don't!" Percival exploded. His free hand slammed the table while the other pressed the blade into the wood of the cutting board. "Don't you dare tell me I'm narrow-minded when we are talking about the future – the life – of my sister! And don't you ever again dare tell me to relax, James Spencer, when it is her well-being I'm concerned about!"

Percy had always been a quiet and introverted man, upholding and insisting on certain rules and behaviour because they were the only thing he had ever been able to rely on. It was easy to mistake his sometimes cold and insensitive demeanour as narrow-mindedness when he was anything but. This incorrect impression had been the cause of a lot of harassment throughout his life. Knowing the story behind it, James should have known better than to use it against him. It was like a betrayal of trust.

"That's not what I meant, I didn't think –" James backpedalled, already too late. This conversation had turned into a nightmare.

"No, you didn't. You never do!" Percy uttered bitterly.

The accusation hit home. Hurt and confused how everything had gone wrong so fast, James looked away, unable to face Percy's angry glare.

Without another word, the dark haired agent rushed out of the kitchen and upstairs. It was the sound of keys in the hallway that caused James to break out of his rigidity and hastily leave, his heart fluttering in panic. Percy was about to pull on his shoes; a bag sat beside him.

"Percy, please," James pleaded. "I'll leave for a long term mission in a few hours. Let's not part like that."

Percy didn't answer and instead slipped into his coat. His movements were stiff and firm, and left no doubt that he was still angry.

James closed his eyes and sighed. "Please, I'm sorry, okay. You don't have to leave. I can go if you want, if that's what you wish."

Silence. Then the rustle of clothes as the bag was picked up.

"Percy, please." James tried one last time. His hand reached out in an unconscious attempt to keep him from leaving, to feel the warm skin of Percy's hand in his. But the agent left without another word. The door fell back into place with a soft click. Then nothing but silence.

It took some time before James was able to break himself out of his numbness and stop staring at the door. He went to the kitchen and put away the beginnings of dinner before going upstairs to pack his things. His heart felt heavy, as if it weighed a ton, and the guilt clawing at him made him dizzy. It was supposed to be a cosy evening, just him and Percy enjoying dinner and planning their vacation. Something to look forward to when he got back.

Carrying his suitcase down the stairs, James thought about calling Percy to sort this mess out, but knew the other agent would block him off. So instead, he went in search for a piece of paper and a pen and wrote a quick note. After folding and pinning it on the fridge, James left the house. He would call Percy as soon as he'd landed. Everything would be okay.

Wiping away the last traces of tears, Roxy sat down beside Percy. While she'd raged and screamed and finally broken down in a sobbing heap on the floor, he'd cried silently. Not a sound had escaped his lips, and his body had shaken almost undiscernibly.

The stairs were cold and hard beneath her, a painful reminder of the harsh reality. She reached out to take her brother's arm and hug him close, hoping to comfort him. His body still vibrated with quiet sobs and she buried her face in his shoulder. His breathing was uncontrolled and arhythmical, the sudden and violent raising and falling of his chest mirroring the storm that raged within him. So strong it tore down buildings constructed of dreams and promises, and washed ashore memories so sharp and clear, they cut his heart to pieces.

A harsh intake of breath made her look up, just in time to see Percy wipe at his face with the hem of his shirt. His gaze was unfocused, his mind doubtlessly far away. They remained like that for a while. Both staring into the distance and lost in their own thoughts.

It was Percy who broke the silence, his voice hoarse and frail. "You know what the worst is?" A heavy pause followed. "I didn't even say I love you before he left."

He wiped at his eyes again, trying to compose himself. Roxy waited patiently for him to continue.

"And why?" Percy smiled bitterly. "Because I was a fool and a coward, and unwilling to accept that I was mistaken."

"What happened?" she asked, stroking his arm.

Percy looked away, ashamed to meet her eye. "We had an argument," he explained quietly. "About whether you should be allowed to join Kingsman. Of course James encouraged it, but I was unrelenting."

He still didn't look at her as he struggled to explain. "It's not that I doubt your abilities, but rather my ability to cope with you being in constant danger. I think James saw that. And he knew me well enough to let me go and put some distance between us."

He lowered his gaze and whispered almost too quietly to hear "I wish he hadn't."

Embracing him tighter, Roxy clung to him like a drowning man to a lifeline. Her loss suddenly struck Percy full force and he turned to her for the first time. His eyes were red and puffy, but he smiled faintly. "He said he loved you like a daughter."

Swallowing hard, Roxy had to fight down tears that were threatening to fall again. She nodded, comforted by the knowledge. James had been the perfect complement to her brother, his cheerful and carefree other half. She missed him already. His cheeky grin and playful wink. The way he made her laugh when she was sad or told a bad joke when she was angry. Never again would they chase each other around the house with water pistols in hand or bake blueberry muffins with twice as much sugar.

"He called me," Percy admitted, interrupting her thoughts. "But I didn't answer, still angry and convinced I could put off the inevitable. Now I wish I had, just to have heard his voice one last time. To tell him to be careful. And that I love him." His voice broke and he looked away again.

"I'm sure James knew that."

"What if he questioned it?" The desperation in his voice was so strong, Roxy could feel her heart break.

"He didn't," she assured him. James would never doubt that, no matter what Percy said, he was one of the few people who could see right through him. "He never did."

Not fully convinced, but at least breathing relatively normal again, Percy leaned his cheek against Roxy's head.

"He left a note," he whispered. "It's pinned on the fridge."

Surprised and just a bit curious, Roxy raised her head to look at him. "What's in it?"

"I've not read it, yet," he admitted, eyes downcast.

Roxy studied him for a moment, before she quietly asked "Why?"

Percy didn't answer and continued staring on the floor. After a moment, she understood. "You're afraid."

It took him a while to answer. When he did, Percy neither confirmed nor declined her observation. "They are his last words," he explained. "And whatever they are I'll never answer."

Of course he was afraid, terrified even. Roxy couldn't blame him. "But isn't it better than nothing at all?"

"I want to save them." Percy replied, fumbling unconsciously at his wet shirt sleeve. He knew it was ridiculous, but he couldn't help it. "As long as they remain a mystery," he continued, "it feels as if he's still alive. As if he's still here, waiting to whisper those final words."

"You should read it." Covering Percy's hand with her own so he would look at her, Roxy added, "James wanted you to."

He met her gaze, fear in his eyes. "What if it's something bad? Then I'd rather not know at all."

"Do you really believe that?" Roxy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Again, he didn't answer, but her scepticism seemed to have reassured him a bit. The storm behind his eyes had calmed down, making visible the chaos it had left in its wake.

"Roxy?" Percy asked absently, while stroking her hair with his hand. "Would you like me to propose you as candidate for the position of Lancelot?"

Stunned and overwhelmed Roxy needed a moment to process what he'd said. She'd always wanted to become a Kingsman, albeit not like this. "Yes." She hesitated. "If that's okay for you."

"Of course." He hugged her closer. "James would be proud to see you take over his name. As will I."

It took time, but Roxy's training and tests helped Percy focus. The note stayed pinned to the fridge, even after he'd read it. That had taken time too, but after the pain had faded to a dull ache and the silence had become somewhat bearable, he'd finally opened it.

Now it had its place in the kitchen. And every morning Percy would look at it, at his name written on the front in James' familiar handwriting, and smile. Sometimes, when it had been an especially bad day, he would even open it again to read the words that he'd long since memorised. James' voice would whisper them into his ear, and for a short, wonderful moment, Percy would feel at peace.

Reviews make me happy :)