A/N: Hi there! So I watched Kingsman yesterday, and since the moment Harry died I couldn't stop thinking about how quickly and easily they killed him off. It felt too sudden, and so this idea came to my head... The moment Eggsy called Merlin "Mycroft" I made the connection. So, hope you'll like it!

He could feel his toes. That was odd, wasn't it? He couldn't possibly be able to feel his toes after being shot in the head. He couldn't really remember anything from when it happened – all he remember is the loud bang of a gun being fired, and hen nothing. Everything was just… Quiet. Peaceful.

Which was why he was so pleased with the fact that he could feel his toes. Because you can't feel your toes when you're dead, right?

He opened his eyes for a split of a second, and then instinctively shut them again, to shield them from the bright light that seemed to surround him. He opened them again, then, as he couldn't bear not knowing where he was.

He was in a hospital, or at least a hospital room, as expected. He scanned the room from right to left, picking up on every single detail in his way, as if he were on a mission. As a matter of fact, he was. But how did that mission end? And more importantly – how did it end up with him being alive?

Just as he got to the left-most corner of the room, he noticed he was not alone. An unknown man was sitting on a chair besides his bed, and his bright blue eyes were piercing his head with an inquisitive stare.

"You're up," the man said casually without any introduction, "Good."

"Excuse me if I'm being rude," he manage to blurt, and then winced slightly in pain as talking made his atrocious headache even worse, "But who the hell are you?"

"You've never heard of me?" the man asked, appearing almost insulted. When he didn't reply, the man's insulted expression turned into a small humourless grin. "Well, that means I'm doing my job right."

Harry pushed himself a little further up, ignoring the sharp pain that escorted the movement, so he would appear to be sitting on the bed rather than lying on it. It wasn't such a big improvement but it made him feel slightly less inferior to the man sitting beside him, who was clearly a man of importance.

"My name is Mycroft Holmes," he finally said in an almost arrogant tone, and Harry's brows furrowed. This man was wearing a suit that was clearly tailor-made, had a Kingsman ring on his right hand – he looked like a Kingsman, but he wasn't one.

"You said that like I should care," Harry replied. His head was throbbing, and the last thing he needed at the moment was a mysterious man sitting by his bed.

"You really should."

"And why is that?"

Mycroft Holmes leaned back in his chair. "Because I'm the man that saved your life," he said nonchalantly.

Harry froze for a moment. "You don't know me, and I don't know you," he said, thinking out loud, "Why would you want to keep me alive?"

"Ah, Harry, after a life time of being a secret agent, I expected you to know that," Mycroft replied with a small condescending smirk. "Just because you don't know someone, that doesn't mean that someone doesn't know you."

He got up from his seat and started to pace in the room. "John le Carre once wrote: "Spying is waiting". I may not be a spy myself, but I know when it is time to act, and when it is time to sit back and wait," he spoke calmly, and sounded a bit bored, as if he'd already given someone that lecture before. "I've had my eye on you ever since you lost your Lancelot. A dedicated, hardworking agent whose fighting skills are just as good as his negotiation skills."

"You've just described every single agent in this organization," Harry interrupted. "Why me?"

Mycroft stopped in front of the hospital bed. "Because I've watched the way you treated young Eggsy," he said the name in clear contempt, "How you believed in him when he was nothing more than a street rat. I saw how you treated your superiors and your inferiors, and more importantly, your enemies."

"How is he?" Harry suddenly asked, a worried frown spread all over his face.

"Who is?"

"Eggsy. Gary," he corrected himself quickly, trying to sound more formal.

"I believe it's Galahad now," Mycroft said, and a faint yet honest grin played on his lips, fighting its owner's attempts to subdue it. "Your death has done wonders to him. As ridiculous as it sounds, he save the world," he sighed slightly as he spoke, and hints of relief were distinct in his words. "He took over your part. They would've given him the role of Arthur, but he's too reckless to be given such a responsibility."

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was keeping. He grew fond of the young man, as stubborn as he was. Now that he got that matter off his mind, it was time to address the current issue. "How am I alive?"

"Excuse me?"

"Valentine shot me in the head. Last time I checked, there was no cure to such a wound."

"Most people are just grateful to be alive, you know."

"Well, I'm not most people," the Kingsman said without any arrogance.

A bitter smirk appeared on Mycroft's face. "No, you definitely aren't. Which is why I'm surprised."

"Surprised by what?"

"Did you really think we were going to let go to that church defenseless? Like I just told you, spying means waiting. If I wanted to hire you, I needed an opportunity to cut your links to the world, to make you non-existent. I've had my experience with faking deaths, although it's much easier when the person knows they're going to fake their death," Mycroft said, half to himself, and then it dawned on Harry.

"Who knows that I'm alive?" he asked firmly, with a hazardous look in his eyes.

"Only the people in this room, and your doctor, which has sworn to secrecy. Not that I trust him, but I've made it very clear to him as to what would happen if he'd decide to betray my trust," said the government man coldly.

"So you kept me alive and convinced the world I'm dead. What for?"

"I need your…" Mycroft began.

"Help?" Harry suggested.

"Assistance," Mycroft corrected, the bitter smirk back on his lips. "You know how some people always end up being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

Harry chuckled to himself as he thought of all the trouble Eggsy had managed to get into.

"Well, during "V-Day"," he continued in disgust, "My little brother was in the worst place at the worst time. As feeble as he might appear, he is a well-oiled machine when it comes to fights. In the short amount of time in which Valentine's plan was being executed, he had managed to kill twelve men. Two were CIA agents, and the rest were gang members and leaders. Ever since, his life is in a constant danger. I've already appointed agents to protect his friends and family, but my main concern is as to what kind of trouble he would get himself into until the threat is neutralized."

"I'm sorry, did you save my life in order to make me the body guard of your little brother?"

An arrogant humousless grin washed his face. "And here I was, thinking you wouldn't understand."

"Why would I care? Why would anyone care? He's just one man, one of millions."

Mycroft's grin vanished. "Like you perfectly phrased earlier, you don't know me. So believe me when I tell you that if anything bad happens to him, I would be very, very irritated, and that would be the worst thing that could happen to this country, and to you, in particular," he spoke in a low voice, that was cold enough to make the threat unnecessary – just by looking at the hazardous look in his eyes Harry knew he did not want to anger that man.

That didn't mean he was satisfied with complying, though.

"When do I start?" he asked tiredly.

The government man's calm mask was back now. "Right now. Ever heard of a man called Sherlock Holmes?"

"No."

"Then get ready."

"Get ready to what?"

"To have you secrets exposed in an instance," replied the older Holmes, with a genuine smirk on his lips.

A/N: Soooo this is it for now! *grins*

What did you think? Did you like it? Did you hate it? Just let me know! I'll be doing my best to update this as regularly as possible!

Have a great day! :)