Synposis: A one-shot centering around Roxy immediately post-Valentine mission with some Eggsy/Roxy friendship slipped in there.
She starts having this dream.
She is once again disengaging from the prototype suit, and suddenly she is tumbling head over heels towards Earth. Despite every force acting against her (even in her dream world she won't rewrite physics), she strains back for her parachute cord and finds she is without one.
She really hated that recruitment test.
She is hurtling downwards fast, blood rushing every way and heart pounding all the while. She stops thinking of ways to slow herself down and forgets which way is up, and all she can think about is her name, her title, and how much she wants to plant her damn feet on the damn ground.
Roxanne Morton.
Lancelot.
Oh so very fucking much.
She wakes up with an uneasy stomach.
She dons her HALO suit for a few missions after Valentine, and she completes each jump with such stoic and precise professionalism that most of the agency assumes she has gotten over her fear.
For the most part, she has.
But every night, she tries to fall back onto her bed and finds herself falling away from the edge of the atmosphere instead.
Roxanne Morton.
Lancelot.
Plant me like a bloody tree if it means I never have to do this again.
What bothers her most about the dream is not the fear (she tells herself she's far used to it by now), but the fact that she never reaches the ground. She is forever falling without a parachute, suspended in mid-air while gravity does a number on her insides.
She's decided it's the worst feeling in the world.
In an effort to avoid it, she signs herself up for overnight surveillance shifts and commits herself to all-nighters writing and re-writing mission reports . She drinks a hell of a lot more coffee. She takes her poodle out for evening runs and coaxes Eggsy out for midnight snacks and a pint before last call. She masters the art of hiding the dark circles under her eyes with concealer.
All in all, she has yet to admit she's a bit of a mess.
When she turns in yet another overly detailed report, coffee mug in hand, Merlin senses something is off and temporarily pulls her from field assignments.
She is predictably livid. A "recuperative leave" certainly doesn't feel like what she needs. But there's no arguing with Merlin, so she turns on her heel, heads straight home, and brews more coffee.
She's exhausted, but she still pines for work to distract her from falling.
Roxanne Morton.
Lancelot.
At least give me something to hold on to.
She thinks about telling Eggsy. He's been coming over on his days off between missions, sometimes with Daisy or J.B., most of the time with takeaway. He stays in and tells her about his gymnastics days and the new man his mother is dating. He takes her and Daisy out for ice cream. He uses up the antiseptic in her first aid kit and writes his name on of the ice packs in her freezer. He falls asleep on her couch.
She wonders if he already knows.
He jokes about how much coffee she drinks, and she forgets to laugh. He suddenly takes her hands and pulls her to face him, and she realizes then that he's known all along.
She lets out a breath, and he squeezes her hands reassuringly. Words tumble out of her mouth like she does in her dream, and he listens to her recount the details. She lifts her gaze from the floor, and he smiles.
"Rox, no matter what happens now, I've got you, alright?"
She smiles back.
She finds out he's been having dreams, too. Sometimes he relives the night he learned of his father's death, only to turn around and watch Harry crumple to the ground. Sometimes his aim falls short of Valentine, and he comes home to find his mother clawing away at the bathroom door. Sometimes he clenches his fists as Merlin tells him he didn't deserve a parachute, and he raises his hands as Roxy pulls the trigger on him.
She is angry at herself for not noticing, for being wrapped up in a dream that now seems silly in comparison. She wishes she could be more comforting. So, she thanks him for sticking with her during recruitment and their first mission and whatever was happening now.
Roxanne Morton.
Lancelot.
I don't think I'm reaching for my parachute cord anymore.
They spend the evening laughing about the dreams they had as children.
She falls asleep with him on the couch. She doesn't know how they ended up so tangled together.
She's tucked her head under his chin and slid her arm around his waist, clinging to him tightly. He breathes steadily, his fingers brushing against hers. Her dream is hazy now, and with every blink it fades away. She hasn't slept this well in months.
She could laugh at how normal this situation seems.
He's her best friend, she concludes, and she supposes they'll find out eventually if they're anything else or not. It doesn't really matter, honestly, so she only cares that she doesn't always have to fall alone.
Her dream had changed a little. Now, Eggsy is there, and neither knows which one has the parachute, only that they've got each other no matter what happens. Her heart still pounds and she still doesn't know which way is up, but at least she's got someone to hold on to. She figures she could've gone through it all without him, but she's thankful that he's there, that he's here.
She rises carefully and plants her feet on the ground.
A/N: If you've made it this far, thanks for reading! I've never been a huge writer, and this is the first fanfic I've posted in years (and on this site!). The style of this piece isn't something I usually write in, so any feedback would be nice.
Possibly interesting side note:This was based on a dream I actually had myself, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to explore Roxy a bit further. A Kingswoman movie should be in order!