A/N: So just to be clear, I know nothing about Psychiatry or what to do to help someone regain their memory, I'm winging this here. This chapter is mostly conversation centred, no real action of any kind.

Oh and this chapter as an addition pov from Merlin.


Chapter 9

"I have to say Harry, I didn't expect to see you. Merlin was sure you wouldn't want my help." Guinevere murmured looking up with surprised eyes from the electronic pad in her hands.

Harry sat slumped slightly on a leather couch, a glass of water in his hand. "Eggsy suggested it." He replied begrudgingly.

"Oh, I see. – But you don't want to be here?"

Harry shrugged, not meeting her gaze. "If it helps me remember, I don't really have a choice."

Guinevere narrowed her eyes calculatingly at him. "Do you want to remember?"

He looked over suddenly. "Why wouldn't I want to remember?"

Guinevere shrugged. "I don't know, Harry. You tell me?"

He stared at the water glass, the bright sunlight creating rainbows on the denim of his jeans. He didn't answer, not for a long time. The room just existing in a silent void as Harry considered the question and the dark skinned woman sitting less than ten feet away watched him. But eventually the words escaped. "I don't think I…like…me."

"Why?" she pressed softly.

Another difficult question that sounded so simple. There were so many reasons. Too many reasons. Fear, anger, disgust. – Jealousy. "I never thought I'd end up like….him." he growled, deciding that was the simplest answer right now.

"Him? You mean your father."

Harry nodded, lifting the glass from his lips to ease the sudden dryness of his throat.

Guinevere glanced down at the tablet in her lap. "What makes you think you're like your father?"

Harry scoffed. "Aren't I?"

She remained silent, her eyes flickering to his with a smile in them.

"I wear suits."

"We all were suits, Harry." She smirked, dropping her gaze to her own, tugging meaningfully on yet lapel.

Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. "I…have you seen my house?"

"I never had the please." she smiled.

"Its…" he shook his head. "It's pompous and…old."

"Old?" she snorted. "Meaning?"

"I have butterflies. I have art." He inhaled deeply. "I stuffed my dog."

Guinevere lip quivered. "And that make you feel old?"

"Yes!"

"Is that all?"

Harry pressed his lips together stubbornly. No, it wasn't all but like hell was he discussing that with her.

"It's been thirty years Harry, people's interests change." She stared at him expectantly. "And, there are times when we are left with a lot of time on our hands. Could it not be that you developed an interest in butterflies and art? – And taxidermy?" she snorted quietly. "Does it have to be about your father?"

Harry stubbornly glared at his glass, his jaw tightly clenched.

"I understand how all this can be confusing for you Harry. Inside you feel twenty while outside you look, a rather attractive fifty-five. – But…Harry, no one feels their age. Most people if asked would probably feel the same as you and they haven't lost their memory."

"Isn't it inappropriate to flirt with your patients?"

"I wasn't flirting, I was stating a fact." She replied matter-of-factly.

He smiled because he couldn't seem to help himself, then he dropped his eyes back to the rainbow on his jeans, his finger rubbing at it as if he might erase it.

"Okay Harry." She smiled. "You want to regain your memories, fill in the blank spaces and maybe understand how you've become this man you don't recognise, yes?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess."

"Okay. – Tell me, do you remember anything?"

"No."

"No small pieces of information?"

"No."

Guinevere nodded, tapping something out of the tablet. "What about dreams, Harry?"

He sighed. "I wondered how long it would take." He grumbled, finishing the last of his water. "Any chance of something stronger."

Guinevere looked at him with a raised perfect brow before nodding to the small table by the window. "Help yourself. – Dreams, Harry?"

Getting to his feet he abled over and began to pour himself a scotch. How the hell was he meant to tell her about his dreams and continue to sit in the same room as her? He'd known this was a bad idea, but with the tension between him and Eggsy the last couple of days he figured what harm could it do. Apparently a lot, at least to his dignity. "Of course I dream, doesn't everyone." He asked dismissively, throwing back a quarter of the glass before returning to his seat.

"And you dream of…?"

"Rainbows and cuckoo clocks."

"Harry, I'm trying to help but I can't if you're difficult."

He sighed warily, his gaze shooting off into the distance, past the woman's head. "I'm twenty, at least in here…" he pointed to his head with his occupied hand. "What do you think I dream about? If you think I'm giving you details…"

"That's fine, but that can't be all you dream about. There must be other dreams."

Harry considers, his brows pinched and low. "My father." He eventually confesses.

"Okay. Would you mind sharing those details?"

A deep sigh rocks though Harry's chest. "We're arguing about my…life style."

"You're sexuality." Guinevere corrects. "No need to be coy with me Harry, I've known you a long time." She said a little too meaningfully and Harry shifts uncomfortable.

"That doesn't help." He points out.

"Sorry. Please, continue. You're arguing with your father about your 'life style'. He's disapproving?"

"He's always disapproved." Harry nods, finally meeting her amber-brown eyes. "He hoped the army would knock it out of me."

Guinevere nodded understandingly. "And that's what the fight was about, in your dream?"

Harry thinking's back to the other night and shakes his head. "No, not…it was about a young man."

"Oh?" Guinevere murmured.

"He's yelling at me, saying I only want him around because I…want him."

"And do you?"

Harry looked up. "No."

"Are you sure?"

Harry's more than sure. He knows how he feels when he wants someone and it wasn't that feeling. "Yeah, I'm sure, but my father keeps saying that I'm a disgrace and that he'll never accept him. That it won't matter because he won't be good enough anyway. Because he's not…right."

"Do you…remember his name? This young man?"

Harry thinks. Was it mentioned? "Lee." Guinevere takes a breath but Harry hears the hitch in it and looks up at her. "You know him?"

"Lee…Unwin. – He was…Galahad's father."

Now its Harry's turn to take a sharp surprised breath. "W-what?"

Everything seems to close in around Harry in the moment, the walls, the words. Had his father been right? - Was he…attracted to Eggsy now because of some kind of unrequited desire for his father? He felt sick.

"Harry?"

He didn't reply, he leant forward on his knees breathing deeply and waiting for the room to stop spinning.

"Okay Harry I think we should end this for today."

He nodded, getting quickly to his feet and marching angrily to the door. He pulled it open violently and couldn't resist slamming it behind him. Outside, was nothing but a long empty warm red walled corridor. Retracing his steps he found himself outside Merlin's office, but instead of knocking, he just kept walking, letting his feet lead him. Somehow he found himself at the shooting range, maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was a buried memory, he didn't know or care.

_Hartwin_

The repetitive crack of a gun firing told Merlin exactly where to find Harry. It was bizarre but Harry had a very distinctive way of shooting that gave Merlin hope that maybe his friend wasn't completely lost to them. Pushing open the door to the range, he hung back, watching as his long-time friend decorated the paper target with holes. Eventually the clip ran out and Harry turned, probably intent on retrieving another only to startle at the sight of Merlin.

They greeted each other politely by name and Merlin moved closer to take up a position by the bench while Harry twisted to lean against the small ledge of the divide, folding his arms over his chest. Merlin easily mirroring his stance.

"Guinevere said you may need someone to talk to."

"I thought sessions were confidential?" Harry murmured angrily.

"She didn't go into details, just said that you might be confused about things and could use a friend with answers." He waved his hand.

Harry inhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the grey concrete floor. "How long have we known each other?"

Merlin shrugged. "I don't know, thirty years give or take. Why?"

Harry unfolded his arms and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Are we close? I mean, do I tell you things?"

Merlin frowned, concerned. "Yes. Harry wants…?"

"How close?" Harry repeated, lifting his gaze to meet the other man's dark eyes.

"Close enough to share a flat for almost a decade and for you to be best man at my wedding."

"You're married?" Harry gapped surprised. His eyes dropping to the man's bare hand.

"Was. It didn't last, pitfalls of the job. – Why all the questions Harry?"

Harry stood silently staring at his feet for a long few moments, making Merlin more nervous by the seconds.

"So if I ask you something, you'd give me an honest answer?"

"Of course." Merlin scoffed.

Harry took a deep breath. "Lee Unwin?"

Merlin stiffened. So that's what this was about, Eggsy. He should have guessed as much. "What about him?" he replied calmly.

"Did I…pick him because I was attracted to him?"

Merlin sighed, his whole body hunching forward slightly. "No Harry." But he didn't look convinced. "You put Lee forward because he was an excellent marksman, had the best scores in the country at the time. – Because he had an impressive IQ and you saw the potential to finally put someone with actual street smarts among the ranks. - And maybe piss Chester off." He smirked.

Harry fidgeted awkward and Merlin could see he was struggling to make sense of the situation. He hated seeing his friend like this, lost and confused, with no idea how his life had become this tangled mess. The old Harry had always seemed so put together, so confident and at ease with who he was and what he did. Merlin had only seen beneath that make a couple of time, rare glimpses at the man stood before him, a conflicted mess of honour and passion.

"Harry…" he took a breath. "Your relationship with Lee was nothing more than sponsor and candidate. You offered him an opportunity, but that was all."

"He died for me." Harry whispered.

"He died for all of us. Me, You and James, because he was that kind of man. Honourable. He wanted the make the world a better place for his son and wife, and knew that Kingsman was the best place to do that. - Don't flatter yours that his death was some kind of romantic sacrifice."

Harry flushed, his lip worrying between his teeth.

"Your….relationship with Eggsy, whatever it may or may not be, has nothing to do with his father." Merlin informed him harshly.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "How can I be sure of that, Merlin? Maybe I just didn't tell you."

Merlin scoffed. "You think I can't tell when you like someone after thirty years of friendship? Huh?"

Harry looked up through his lashes and shrugged. "I never like talking about…feelings. It comes from having Chester King as a father."

"You don't have to talk to me about it Harry, I'm your best friend, I can read you like a fuckin' book. – I knew things were different with Eggsy the second you first mentioned his name."

Harry swallowed hard and quickly turned a dark shade of red. "I wish I could remember."

"Sounds to me like you're beginning to." Merlin smiled, nodding back to the target sheet, the perfect ring of holes in the center. "In the meantime, trust your instincts, they've never let you down before."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "I've always known how to shoot." He brushed off.

"True, but never with that kind of accuracy."

_Hartwin_

Eggsy gave the heavy white door a hard single tap before pushing it open and poking his head around, frowning at the sight of Guinevere alone. "Oh, huh, I though Harry'd still be here." He murmured, when the woman looked up at him. "Sorry." He moved to leave only for Guinevere to call him back.

"Galahad, can I have a word."

Eggsy lifted a brow, not relinquishing his place by the door. "I don't need me head shrunk Doc." He pulled back.

"About Harry."

Eggsy sighed and stepped a little further into the room but didn't let go of the door. "What about him?"

Guinevere waved her hand at the sofa. "Please."

Taking a deep breath, Eggsy reluctantly released the door handle. This was going to be bad, he could feel it in his balls. It was the same feeling he got then Dean had looked at him sometimes before clouting him one, or when the plod had him backed into a corner or when Dean's dogs had waltzed into the Black Prince to find him and Harry having a drink. – Though that one had actually turned out alright for him.

He slowly walked over to the expensive leather sofa and literally dropped on it, the thick cushions coughing under his weight. He bit back a smirk at Guinevere's irritated look and slouched against the back, his arms folded defensively over his chest. He'd seen therapists before, court-ordered of course. They all wanted to get into your head and root out the bad shit, like they got off on it or somethin'.

"So wha' about Harry?"

"I understand it was your idea for him to come and see me." She asked politely.

Eggsy shrugged. "Figured it couldn't do no harm."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Eggsy scoffed.

"Why did you want him to see me?"

Eggsy looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "So you could help him get his memory back."

"And that's important to you?"

"Of course it's fuckin' important." Eggsy glared.

"And if he can't?"

"What do you mean?" Eggsy sat up, his eyes narrowing at her dangerously. "You said he'd get his memory back!"

"I said there was slim-chance he could recover his memories, it wasn't a guarantee."

Eggsy stared at her, mouth hanging open. What the fuck was she playing at? "Then what fuckin' use are you!" he yelled, shooting to his feet and marching furiously to the door.

"Sit down Galahad."

"I don't need this shit." He yanked open the door.

"Galahad, sit down!" she said quietly but firmly, making Eggsy paused and look back at her. "Or I'll make sure you never see action again."

Eggsy narrowed his eyes at her. "You can't fuckin' do that?" He growled.

Guinevere lifted her chin and met his anger with a calm smile. "Try me." She waved to the sofa.

Growling, Eggsy slammed the office door loudly and went back to his seat, all the defences he'd spent months taking down suddenly up again. He wasn't Galahad, now he was Eggsy Unwin, sat in that cold lifeless room with its bright blue carpet and beige walls with picture of smiling cartoon characters while some dozy twat with a goatee tried to get to the root of his anger. – Yeah, like he was gonna tell the stupid tosser anything about his home life, his mom, his step-dad. Like he was going to show the bruises on his back. Like he was going to share how much he'd wanted to bash Dean's head in with that brick rather than tossing it through his teacher's car window. – Like he was going to admit that seeing the disappointment in Mr Ashworth's eyes had hurt more than the kickin' Dean had given him.

He stared down at the small mark on the carpet a few feet away and refused point blank to meet the woman's gaze. She might be able to make him stay, but she couldn't make him want to.

"Well Galahad?"

He pressed his lips together and tightened the hold he had on himself, a loud angry exhale shooting from his nostrils.

"You are a Kingsman, stop behaving like a child." She snapped, her voice cracking the perfect mask of calm serenity.

Eggsy's jaw worked and he forced himself to finally look at her, straightening. He uncrossed his arms and crossed his legs and levelled her with the coldest stare he could manage. "What?" he murmured, his voice straining to remain cool and calm, burying his anger. It seemed to be enough of an effort for Guinevere, who made herself a little more comfortable and smiled as if she hadn't threatened to ruin his career before it had even really taken off.

"What if Harry can't regain his memories?"

"Then I guess Kingsman will give him a nice retirement package and he'll live the rest of his life bored out of his fuckin' mind."

"I was wondering more about how it will affect you?"

"I won't." he dismissed.

"Are you sure?" he mused. "You seem rather invested in him getting his memories back."

Eggsy shrugged. "He's my mentor, I want him to be himself again."

"But he is being himself, he's just not the man you knew."

Eggsy took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. His discomfort just seemed to spur the woman on.

"I read your file... May I call you Eggsy?"

He shrugged.

"You were only acquainted with Harry for a little over two months and for a fraction of that time he was in a coma, so I'm a little surprised that you're taking his current situation so personally. Most sponsor/candidate relationship are professional. I remember that my sponsor and I barely spoke more than a few words to each other. – Unless there's a personal connection outside of the recruitment, for example a familial bond."

Eggsy shrugged again. "I guess we just got on."

"So you're saying you shared an instant connection?" Guinevere pressed with a sly look on her face.

Eggsy narrowed his eyes at her, he knew that look, recognised it from years on the estate. It was the look of someone who though they knew what was going on in his head. "Whatever you're suggest, you can shove it. Harry's…he wouldn't…nothing happened."

"Do you want it too?" she asked and Eggsy growled at the bitch painted him into a corner.

"No!" he snapped firmly. Guinevere stared at him, silent and considering, he hated it. "Are you done?"

"Just one more thing, Galahad. – Maybe instead of obsessing over Harry getting his memory back you should consider this as an opportunity to get to know him. You might be surprised to find that you still share that connection."

Eggsy huffed angrily and hurriedly scrambled to his feet, marching to the door once again. He didn't say another word to Guinevere, just left. Furiously storming down the corridor, his heart pounding in his chest all the way to Merlin's office. He didn't knock this time, he just barged in to find Merlin and Harry sat drinking tea. Harry looked up startled when he entered and his eyes widened with concern.

"Eggsy, are you alright?"

"Fine. Are you ready to go? I need a break from this shit-hole." He snapped, folding his arms over his chest, his weight shifting impatiently to his left leg. All the manners and breeding that had been hammered into him over his training vanished as if it was never there.

Merlin shot him a hard look before giving Harry a concerned one as the man got to his feet.

"Of course. I'll speak to you later Merlin." Then he strolled to Eggsy's side and waved an arm in a familiar way that caused the younger man to inhale sharply.

Eggsy groaned inwardly and marching back out of the room, tossing back a "See you later." over his shoulder at Merlin.

They were in the Bullet on the way back to London only five seconds before Harry broke the stifling silence between them. "Are you okay, Eggsy?"

"I said I'm fine." Harry stared at him, brow raised and for a moment Eggsy could almost believe it was his Harry but for the t-shirt and jeans, and the hair that wasn't slicked back and parted. He straightened uncomfortable on the cushioned seat and turned his gaze to stare out the small window at the passing brickwork. "How did it go with Guinevere?" he asked quietly, not really wanting to know. He could only imagine the number she'd done on Harry after his brief encounter with her.

Harry didn't reply and Eggsy risked a glance of at him, catching the discomfort in the man's face and posture. Yeah, she'd worked him over good. He thought. "So…how about we head to the King's Arms when we get back, grab lunch and a strong drink." Eggsy said, his voice a lot calmer than it had been a few moments ago.

"Sound good." Harry agreed with a nod.

_Hartwin_

They sat in a corner of the King's Arm, drinks set between them. Harry tucking into his steak and salad while Eggsy scoffed down the gourmet burger, their meeting with Guinevere behind them. Eggsy was relaxed for the first time in days. They sit and talked about normal every day stuff but ultimately there's not much you can say when the worlds still trying to get back on its feet. TV's pretty much made up of reruns, EastEnders and Corry never failing to deliver, no matter the crisis, minus some cast members who'd been involved in 'accidents' on V-Day.

As for sport, well…footballers it seemed had more money than sense and also had no idea how to pick their friends. Eggsy's stomach turned slightly at the memory of seeing a certain tattooed footballer and his wife, wining and dining in Valentine's big secret mountain. – He tried not to think of the kids. It had weighed on his mind for weeks. – So, with half the world's sports stars gone, along with the royals, presidents and anyone Valentine happened to think worthy of his brave new world, the leagues were struggling to regain their importance.

"Well maybe football will return to its roots." Harry grumbled. He'd been shocked and somewhat horrified when Eggsy told him what footballers had been getting paid.

"I doubt it'll stay like it though. Footie was big business." Eggsy scoffed, chewing a thick golden brown chip.

Harry looked up at him with a resigned sigh, reaching for his beer.

"I would've never figured you for a footie bloke, Harry." Eggsy scoffed.

Harry looked up at him with a raised amused brow. "Why?"

Eggsy waved his fork at him with a smile.

"You expected me to prefer polo, I suppose?"

Eggsy snorted, going back to his food. "Maybe. – Would have defo put money on you being a rugger man, that's for sure. Maybe cricket."

"I love cricket." Harry replied matter-of-factly. "Excellent game."

Eggsy snorted, shoving the last of his burger into his mouth.

"I played Rugby at Eton but…" Harry shook his head at the memory. "Wasn't really all that bothered when it came to watching it."

"Yeah?"

"I don't... Football just appealed more. My father said I had an uncivilized interest in the lower classes."

Eggsy looked up, eyes a mixture of amusement and suspicion. "Oh yeah. I guess that explains me then huh? No wonder he hated me." He grumbled, dropping his gaze to the empty plate in front of him.

"My father was a snob and he hated everyone, probably because he hated the fact my great grandfather was a tailor with a shop in Covent Garden."

Eggsy gaped up at him. "You're kidding?" he snorted.

Harry frowned. "No. – He was lucky though, got a patron or something. My father never really liked to talk about it." His frowned deepened. "I suppose…it might have had something to do with…Kingsman."

Eggsy was still smirking, he couldn't help it. There was just something exceedingly joyous about the idea that Arthur wasn't as posh as he liked to pretend. "Is that why he called himself King. Thought it made 'im sound posh?" he asked with a laugh.

Harry raised a brow. "Pardon?"

"If he's y'father and your names Hart, he 'ad to 'ave changed it. Kinda pompous calling himself King." He huffed with a small shrug and a smirk.

"He didn't chance his name."

"Wha'?"

Harry nodded sadly. "Chester Wilfred King." He snorted suddenly. "He hated his middle name, said it was common but it was a family name so…" he shrugged. "He was stuck with it." He smiled sadly off to the side.

"But…Hart?"

"My mother's maiden name. I... I used it when I applied for Sandhurst, he thought it was best so as…" he swallowed thickly. "So as not to bring shame on the family name when I was…found out."

Eggsy started at him, eyes wide and furious as Harry stared into nothing, an almost broken look in his eyes. If he hadn't already killed Chester, he'd fucking do it now on principle, for putting that look on Harry's usually confident face. Clearing his throat, he decided to steer the conversation away from the dead man, though he wasn't quite ready to say goodbye to it all together.

Eggsy leaning back in his chair and folded his arms. "So does that mean you're names Wilfred to?"

Harry lifted his head and frowned. "Pardon?"

"You said Wilfred was a family name."

Harry smiled softly and shook his head. "No, like I said he hated it. Flat out refused to name me Wilfred. – It was the name of our family dog though. He hated him to."

"Your family dog was call Wilfred?"

"Yes."

Eggsy stared at him, his mind working. "Was he…? Do you think…? - You think Wilfred was his training dog, like Mr Pickles and J.B? – I bet he happily pulled that trigger."

Harry stared at him in horror.

"Sorry." Eggsy quickly whispered.

"It's fine. I just…I loved that dog, the thought that…actually you're probably right, he would have shot him. - Hell, he was probably disappointed they were blanks. Its probably why he hated him so much." He growled with disgust.

"Lucky for Mr Pickles you don't take after him." Eggsy smiled.

"Lucky for everyone I'd say." Harry murmured, a smile play sweetly at the corners of his mouth as he finished the last of his Guinness.

Eggsy's heart did not leap into his mouth.


A/N: Despite my love of Michael Caine, Arthur was an asshole and I feel justified in making him worse.

How does everyone feel about Guinevere? Hero or villain? Like her or hate or? I'd be interested to know what you think of her meeting with Harry and Eggsy.

This story is working out to be a lot longer than I intended. Hope you don't mind.