AN: Thanks for reading and commenting. Hope you're enjoying it :)


Percival had just finished a mission and had arrived at the Berlin HQ when he was informed of a message. Doubting that it could be about the mission he had just completed, as it was doubtful the main HQ had heard about it yet, he assumed it was something new. When he saw Merlin appear on the video monitor, he inclined his head respectfully.

"Merlin. What is it?"

"I wanted to inform you that at fourteen hundred UTC time, Arthur will be holding a meeting."

"Certainly he will send out his own message to inform us. Why are you speaking to me?" asked Alastair curiously.

"It's due to the purpose of the meeting. He's going to announce that we will begin finding a candidate for a position at Kingsman."

Alastair stilled. He knew. He knew what it meant. He didn't want to ask, didn't want the words to be said out loud (it made them real) yet the words slipped out anyway. "Who?"

"Lancelot's position."

The silence that followed was like a knife inserted into the spine. Finally, Alastair replied, "Thank you Merlin. As of right now my current assignment has been completed. I will be coming home within the next few days. Please have a mission ready for me then."

"Percival, perhaps you should—"

Alastair shut off communications before he could continue. For a moment, he sat at his desk, frozen in time and space and then he was shoving through the draws. Dumping out papers, folders, tools, everything. Searching, searching, and searching. It only hit him once the place was in disarray that his wedding ring wasn't there. It was back at his permanent desk. Back in London. The urge to hold it close was replaced with the wish to run in the exact opposite direction. He had always known that this was a possibility. That the idea of them actually growing old together was a long shot, yet he hadn't expected for it to hurt this deep.

When the time came, he went to the meeting room and connected to the conference. The first thing he noticed were the glances towards the empty chair next to him. Though there were technically empty chairs all around him, he didn't dare look and instead focused on Galahad's face. He couldn't quite face his own pain and loss but he could at least see it through Galahad.

Not yet. He couldn't break just yet.

"Lancelot is dead. Long live Lancelot."

No! No he fucking wasn't! James was dead! That wonderful, kind, caring man was dead! The man who made everyone laugh and could convince anyone to crack a smile. He was dead! The damn title would carry on; it hadn't suddenly disappeared. It was still there. It was James who was dead!

These thoughts ran through Alastair's head as he silently screamed but he kept quite. He saluted. Then he went back to work. He finished up the mission. He headed back to London. Through all this, he hadn't cried yet, hadn't been able to.

When he arrived at Kingsman HQ, he could tell that everyone was shocked when he had accepted the leave time. It wasn't for the reasons that they thought though. He knew that if he argued he would break. That once it all came crashing down he wouldn't be able to stop. He couldn't let his fellow agents see that so he silently agreed and left.

He drove for hours, round and round the city, avoiding the first journey to what he was already thinking of as an empty home. Yet the small part of him that still felt connected to Kingsman, to bravery, and empowerment, knew that if he didn't go home he wouldn't be able to move forward. And that was something that even now, he couldn't imagine happening to himself. He would not allow himself to just stop.

Alastair headed home. He moved slowly to the front door and he could feel the pain slowly rising. It was so different from anything he had ever felt yet similar to when a leg felt like pins and needles, but he didn't stop. It was gradual and he could deal with that. He could deal with the slow rise and the eventual decrease. He would be able to—

"Brother! You told me you'd call before you came back. So, what horrible catastrophe have you averted this time?"

He stared at Roxy. Just a blank, empty stare that last for about five seconds.

Then he was suddenly falling. His body, the tears, his heart. Everything fell and he cried-no sobbed it all out to the forefront of his thoughts and being as Roxy tried to get him to say a word, tried to understand what was going on. Now he was doing what he'd feared. He was an unrelenting waterfall that couldn't stop.

He vaguely remembered himself being guided somewhere. He ended up on their-his bed. Hatshepsut was there and immediately, before the cat could even protest, he was pulling her close and holding her tight. She barely struggled as if she felt the severity of the situation.

Near him a little kitten jumped up as well and curled next to him. He'd shown her to James once. James had laughed and told Alastair that he really was a cat person now. He had told him to shut up and responded it was only because James was begging for another one. They had named her Saphira. James had never had a chance to play with her like he had claimed he'd do the moment he got home.

He lay with the two cats. A blanket was pulled up around him. Eventually he felt the bed dip and knew Roxy was there. Had he asked her to stay? Had he managed to get out a word to her? Or did she just instinctively know? Either way she remained as the haze continued.

The inability to put himself back together remained as he barely registered what occurred. Was Roxy still there? Had someone else come? Had he eaten anything? He vaguely remembered a shower at one point.

But just like everything else, time passed and things changed. When he first felt the haze lifting he clung to it, wishing for the disconnected feeling to remain. It could not. Not without destroying any remnant of himself. So he accepted the lifting haze and things became more focused again. The first thing he noticed upon being made aware of the world again was Roxy. She was still there.

"Don't you have school or something?"

The words made her jump yet her eyes lit up at hearing a coherent sentence. "Nothing that's more important than you. Do you need anything?"

"A kinder world?" asked Alastair softly.

"I wish I could get you that. Sadly, it's out of my reach."

Alastair tried to give her a kind smile but it was difficult so he settled on a neutral look. "I would have been shocked if you had said yes. Do you know what has happened?"

She nodded.

"I don't see the tears."

"I cried enough when you did," Roxy responded. "I doubt you would have remembered that. It's been four days."

Alastair slowly let that process. "Part of me…wants to go running back to work. But if I do that to quickly I'm afraid I'll keep running."

"Then how about we get out of the house for a walk? Just for a bit? It may help."

He nodded and slowly got up. "I'll shower first. You've taken care of the cats?"

"They're fed and happy."

"Good."

Quickly taking a cold shower, he left the house with Roxy. They remained quiet for the first three block before she finally asked, "Do you know how?"

"The details are still unknown. They didn't get a body. They suspect whoever did it took it to try and get an ID."

"Maybe it's more real for you but I'm still…I'm still trying to believe that he's dead. I just can't. I can't imagine…he should be here."

"I know," murmured Alastair softly. A sudden thought came to his mind and he finally did smile. It was sad, somewhat broken, but still there. "He was probably a cocky little shit until the end. To smart to be bested by someone else but he was always-always so damn sure of himself."

"He certainly was," Roxy responded. Her voice choked up like her brother's but both were keeping their tears at bay. "How…what is the agency going to do now? I think you called it Kingsman once."

"Yes, Kingsman. It's the first agent that passed away on the job while I was there, same for one or two of the others since the man before him retired. But the agency will pick itself up and continue on."

"Did he have a codename?"

"Lancelot. Mine is Percival."

"It fits you." Roxy knew that he shouldn't be telling her this but even in a grief stricken state her brother was no idiot. She knew there was a point to it all. "Are you all named after knights? It's kind of funny."

"But prestigious in its own right," Alastair defended. "But no, there is also Merlin and Arthur. Merlin is a field agent but he primarily focuses on the tech aspect of it all. Arthur is the head runner."

"I'm guessing he was originally one of you lot though. A knight. Wouldn't make sense just picking a random person to be the front runner."

Alastair nodded. "Exactly. He is elected amongst the Kingsman. Merlin is also a little different as we get a very small selection of candidates to consider as certain skill sets are needed. For a knight, each member presents a candidate for their replacement."

"I'm guessing it gets rather competitive," Roxy responded. "But I like competitive. So when are you going to ask me?"

"I was going to let you figure it out yourself. Part of me can't ask you to accept this," sighed Alastair. "But honestly, even before all this, I could never think of anyone who could replace myself or James other than you."

"What about Kenton?"

"To old."

Roxy gave a small snort before her face grew serious again. "And if I accept?"

"You will be pitted against the other candidates and will have to apply yourself to a series of challenges and tests that will analyze ever aspect of your body, mind, and soul."

"Well, like I said, I like a challenge. Besides, keeping busy is important. When do we start?"