Being Kingsman is suffering.
.
.
.
Eggsy takes a detour to Kentucky after a mission, without telling anyone (although Merlin probably knows and Roxy will most likely guess), and visits that awful, abandoned church. He doesn't go in, just stands in the empty parking lot staring at the spot which he knows is where Harry fell, because there is a faded bloodstain on the concrete ground that could not be completely cleaned off.
There is nothing else – no chalk outline, no grave marker, just a misshapen imprint of death.
He crouches down and reaches a trembling hand towards the bloodstain, feels the heat of the sun-baked ground radiating up towards him even as the waves of oppressive summer heat beat down upon him. He almost expects to see and feel fresh blood pour forth from beneath the surface, coating his hands and staining his clothes.
He is wearing the suit Harry gifted to him.
He presses his right hand against the death-dyed concrete, while his left hand clutches helplessly at his chest. Suddenly his legs can no longer support him and he tips forward, bearing most of his weight on his right arm even as his knees hit the ground.
There may be bruises, later, but not blood.
He wonders if his elbow would give way as well and let him fall the rest of the way, to smash his forehead against the hard, harsh concrete. Rain begins to fall from the sky in huge splattering droplets, but he remains frozen in place. Soon enough, water has covered the ground, even the bloodstained patch that he had temporarily – futilely – shielded from the rain with his own body.
The blood looks darker now, more real.
Eggsy braces his forearms on the ground in front of his knees with his head against his arms and, thus prostrated, finally allows himself to cry. His tears mingle with the rainwater and are washed away, but the indelible red mark remains.