A/N: Another visit with Guinevere and once again I'll remind you I'm no psychiatrist and know nothing about post trauma counselling, I don't even know psycho-babble. This is all just basically Guinevere trying to get beneath that hard shell that makes up Harry Hart and get him to open up. Easier said than done obviously.
Chapter 12
The snow flutters down to settle on the sharp curves of the large mountain, the sunlight gleaming off the glass encasing it. Harry stared, his vision blurred and his breathing heavy as he watched the last of the small fragments float barely there in the water. A noise had him lifting his eyes from the globe to settle on a woman's face, blonde hair neatly pinned back, the warm light bringing out the hatred and disgust in her eyes. She stared back at him, the snow globe settled in her hands, held out to him. He looked at it again, it seemed familiar and important but he couldn't…he couldn't place it, couldn't figure out why.
"Ten. – Nine. – Eight." He heard himself say but his voice was muffled, like he was speaking through a wall. "Seven. – Six." His arm began to raise of its own accord and he caught sight of the weapon, the weight heavy yet comfortable in his palm, his finger twitching against the trigger. "Five." He fired twice, one in each knee, his eyes wide behind the mask. – He was wearing a mask? Yes. Blood began to seep from the two wounds in the woman's knees but she didn't cry out, she didn't even look, she simply kept staring at him, eyes fixed with his, the globe still steady in her hand.
Harry tried to lower the gun but his hand wouldn't move. He tried to stop counting but his lips were not his own. "Four. – Three. – Two."
The woman's eyes narrowed, a smile stretching across her face as she flung up her arms. It all happened in slow motion, the arms moving higher and higher, the globe flying into the air before beginning to fall towards the sand covered ground, his finger once again tightening around the trigger. He held his breath as the back of the woman's head exploded, blood and brain matter landing in a familiar pattern on the floor, the same pattered he's seen around Eggsy's neck. He heard his name being yell.
"Harry!"
Then he was being pushed aside and a dark shadow rushing forward, hands out stretched. Harry stumbled and turned, suddenly disorientated. Once he straightened himself he looked up to find a man staring at him. Black glistening skin, dark eyes that seemed to be filled with a mixture of respect and anger. The red of his baseball cap almost as dark as the blood on his hands as they raised a gun to Harry's face, behind him chaos, people fighting, screaming, ripping each other apart. Harry could see his reflection clearly in the man's glasses, mask free and coating in blood that he somehow knew wasn't his own.
"I guess this is that kinda movie." The man said, his voice low and rich, the American accent rolling off his tongue like syrup.
Harry frowned, opening his mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about only to be cut off by the man pulling the trigger. Harry flinched at the loud bang, too loud, not a gunshot more like an explosion. He turned sharply to find a cloud of dust. When it cleared there was a body on the ground, all dressed in back and his stomach dropped as he stepped quickly forward, eyes wide with pain as the face cleared.
He choked on the name, couldn't get it passed his lips as his throat closed up around each letter. He shouldn't be there, that wasn't right. Harry looked up to find Merlin and another man staring sorrowfully at him.
"I'm sorry Harry." Merlin whispered.
Harry looked back at the fallen body, taking an unsteady step closer to him. Crouching beside the young man, reaching out with his blood covered hands but never quite touching him. His eyes scanned the body, moving along to his outstretched arm and to his open hand. Nestled in the center of it, safe and still in one piece was the snow globe.
Harry gulped for air, tears pooling behind his eyes as he felt a hand on his shoulder, heavy and warm, shaking him hard. He could hear a voice, distant and familiar but couldn't bring himself to take his eyes of the young man. Hands shaking as he finally touched his cold cheek only for the face to fade away, replace with another young man. "L – Lee?" he pulled his hand back sharply as if burnt. There was a sudden wave of relief that flooded painfully through him.
"Harry! – Harry!" The hand on his shoulder didn't stop, kept shaking him.
"Harry!"
He shot up in the bed, his heart pounding and head spinning, he felt sick and confused. There was still a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look at it, then up at its owner. "E-Eggsy?" he whispered as he focused on the face, concern etched across it.
"Whatsup?" Eggsy whispered, his hand still on Harry's shoulder.
Harry swallowed thickly, tearing his eyes away from the man. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed and leant forward on them, his head falling into his hands as he tried to breath normally again. Eggsy's fingers brushed across his back, over the scar Harry knew was there from….
He leapt to his feet and rushed into the bathroom, he didn't bother putting on a light. He slammed the door closed and rushed over to the toilet, dropping to his knees. He retched violently until he finally brought up what little was in his stomach, the rancid smell burning his eyes and throat. The dream had been so real, so clear. The blood, the screams echoing in the background, the woman's head exploding in front of him, dead at his hands. – So many dead at his hands.
"Harry?" Eggsy called though the door, his voice trembling and panicked. "Are ya okay?"
He didn't call back a confirmation because he wasn't sure he was. Everything was so painful, his hands shook against the side of the toilet bowl and he gasped for air and squeezed his eyes closed only to force them open as Eggsy's lifeless face floated into his mind. It hadn't been Eggsy though, it had been his father, Lee. Lee Unwin. The man who'd saved Harry's life. And how had he repaid him? By dragging his son into the same world that had killed him.
"Harry if ya don't fuckin' answer me, I'm comin' in!" Eggsy snapped furiously only a split second before shoving the second door open and flooding the dark bathroom with light.
Harry flinched and groaned, wincing at the sound of rushing feet and jerking beneath Eggsy's touch. He didn't look up at the younger man, he didn't need to, he knew there would be hurt in his oceanic eyes.
"I'm callin' Merlin." Eggsy said, his voice alone confirming Harry's suspicions.
Harry opened his mouth to argue but nothing came out. He looked up through his lashes to watch Eggsy walk slowly, butt-naked out of the bathroom and his stomach dropped again, his chest tightening as tears pooled in his eyes.
_Hartwin_
"I don't think this is a good idea, Robert." Harry murmured as he froze outside the tailor shop, his hand in the pockets of his leather jacket and his eyes staring up at the sign.
"Why?" the old mam asked, smile on his face and brow raised. "I thought you wanted to follow in my illustrious footsteps." he chuckled..
"I did. – I do, but…he'd not going to be happy."
"Luckily for you, your father doesn't get a say in it." He smirked, pushing open the door. "You're my candidate, Harry and I know you're going to make an excellent addition to our legacy."
Harry inhaled. "What about my being….?"
Robert raised his brow. "Yes?"
Harry blushed. "Uncle Rob, you know he's going to bring it up."
Robert laughed, waving his hand at the door. "We're going to be later Harry."
Harry stared for another couple of minutes before taking a deep breath and making his way up the steps into the shop. It was exactly as he remembered it as a boy, George smiled at him as he followed Robert. "Hello George."
"Master Harry." The older man nodded.
Robert pushed open one of the fitting room doors. "Come on Harry."
Harry hesitated in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind him. Before his hand had even released the handle the floor beneath his feet began to shift, he turned back with wide nervous eyes – He wasn't scared, he was a Captain in her majesty's armed forces thank you very much. – to find Robert stood watching him. He reached out for the wall but that was moving too. Ascending around him. No, he was descending, the fitting room slowly vanishing above him. "Where are we going?"
Robert didn't reply though, he simply took a seat on the leather chair and crossed his legs, pulling out a cigarette.
Finally the elevator stopped and they stepped off, Harry following his Godfather towards a small train a few feet away. "Okay, Robert, now I'm impressed." He said taking a seat opposite the man.
Robert grinned at him, wide and smug. "This is nothing." He huffed dismissively.
Harry grinned as the door close and the train began to move through the tunnel.
When they finally arrived Harry stepped out of the train and inhaled sharply at the sight that met him. Slowly he walked towards the large window, his mouth hanging open as he stared down at the vast hanger filled with vehicles of every description, people milling about between them, some in suits much like the one his Godfather wore and some in jumpsuits.
"Told you." Robert laughed. "Come on, we'll be late. You can gawk later." He tugged on Harry's arm and he turned his body to follow, though his eyes never left the view.
As they turned the final corner in a maze of corners, Harry's took a sharp breath as he caught sight of his father, the man's eyes meeting his with the same anger and disgust he'd seen the last time they'd spoken almost two years ago. Despite the fight, despite the years of being ignored Harry couldn't help the way his heart clenched and that hope filled him, the hope that one day he'd make his father proud. There was still love in him, he just wished the old man felt it.
"Galahad." Chester said as he approached. "What is he doing here?"
Harry looked from his father to Robert, brows knitted at the nickname.
"He's my candidate, obviously." Robert replied matter-of-factly.
"You can't be serious?" Chester looked at Harry like he was a stranger.
"Why not?" Robert challenged.
"He's…"
"A legacy." the old man cut in. "Much like his father and grandfather. He'll make wonderful knight." He slapped Harry's shoulder hard with a proud grin. "Though considering he hasn't inherited you're pompousness." He snorted. "He might just out shine you."
Chester looked at Harry, his eyes sweeping from head to toe before he huffed. "Well let's hope the army straightened him out." He sneered coldly.
"Lancelot.Shut up. – Harry." He nodded towards an open door. "Make us proud son."
Harry looked once again over at his father, watching the doubt dancing in his eyes and he felt his soul crash as he realized his father would never be proud of him, no matter what. – Then he'd damn well prove he was worthy. Nodding at his father and then at Robert, he marched into the room and took his place among the recruits.
_Hartwin_
"What d'mean I can't see 'im?" Eggsy snapped furiously, glaring at the woman with murder in his eyes.
"Mr Hart needs some…"
"Harry!" Eggsy yelled. "He's not a fuckin' stranger. You know his fuckin' name! Call him Harry!"
The woman's cool professional mask slipped, sympathy seeping into her dark eyes. She took a slow deep breath and relaxed her shoulders. "Harry…" she began again softly. "…needs time to adjust, Gal…" another breath. "Eggsy. He's struggling beneath the tidal wave of memories that are fighting their way back to the surface. He just needs space to sort through them."
Eggsy swallowed thickly, his eyes burning into the woman for a moment before dropping to stare at the grey concrete of the HQ infirmary. "How long?"
"I don't know, that's down to him. When he's ready."
Eggsy scratched the back of his neck and sighed. It had been almost two days since their night together, two days since Harry had woken him with an almost pained yell, sweat peppering his bare chest. – Two days since Harry kicked Dean's bully-boys to a pulp. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had triggered all of this. "Has he…" Eggsy licked at his lips and looked up at Guinevere. "…asked…at all?"
The woman's face answered him before her words did. "No."
Eggsy's shoulders slumped forward as pain speared though his chest like the woman had just thrust a javelin into him. He didn't know what exactly he'd expected, some kind of acknowledgement that they'd shared something. For Harry to be as desperate to see him as he was to see Harry.
But then…if the old Harry was fighting to return maybe…
Maybe he didn't want to see him, because maybe he was still disappointed in him. Maybe he hadn't forgiven him for blowing his chance at Kingsman the first time, despite having earned his place since then.
Or maybe he'd never really been interested in Eggsy's like that. Maybe he wasn't attracted too him and now he felt ashamed or disgusted.
Tears began to burn at his eyes and he turned away sharply, clearing his throat. He hadn't had sex with Harry, not really. The man that had taken him apart on the dining room table two nights ago was a different man to the one he'd first met, to the man who'd given him a chance to change his life. They simply shared a body and a name. His stomach tightened, flipped and dropped all at once, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Which Harry had he had sex with? That was a painful question. Who was he really in love with? The new free and open man who smiled and flirted and laughed or the uptight and proper gentleman who looked at him like he was fresh air in a sealed room. Who made him want to be better? – The man who didn't try to change him but rather offered him a chance to change the world.
"Eggsy?" Guinevere whispered, her hand settling on his shoulder. "If you need to talk."
He shook her off and straightened, shaking his head furiously. "You've done enough." he stated angrily.
"Firstly: I didn't do anything, it was all him." Guinevere said, her tone returning to its cold professionalism. "And secondly: This was what you wanted, remember. The old Harry back."
Eggsy stiffened at the reminder. She was right, he had wanted the old Harry back, but…that was before… - Now he had no idea what he wanted, who he wanted.
What he did know was that when Harry had last looked at him, it had filled him was a drowning feeling, like he'd lost him all over again. "I…" he inhaled slowly, letting the air leave his lungs in a rush and he swiped at his cheek. "I need to go…" he started to walk away before pausing down the corridor, he didn't look back he just spoke over his shoulder. "Call if he…"
"Of course."
Eggsy gave a sharp nod and marched away, his shoulders growing heavier with each step and his chest collapsing in on itself.
He marched into Merlin's office without so much as knocking, the older man swivelling around in his chair to meet him with his brow raised. "Eggsy?"
"I need something to do. Anything, Merlin. Just…get me the fuck out of here, will you?" he growled.
Merlin sighed. "Gwaine's heading back to Istanbul, he'll need back-up?"
"When do we leave?" he demanded.
"An hour."
Eggsy nodded and turned, leaving the room without another word. Work was his best friend right now.
\*_*/\*_*/
Harry stared at her face, the familiar face that had been haunting him for the past two days. It was all slowly coming back to him and it left him cold to the marrow. He remembered the feeling, his own voice alongside Merlin's, yelling at him to stop but unable to do so. He could feel the blood still on his hands, the scent of burnt iron in his nostrils. He'd killed before, he remembered that now. Killed without batting an eyelid, killed and not so much as looked back with guilt but they'd been a necessity and he never killed unless it was to save a life.
He hit the screen of the tablet and let the whole thing play again, watched his hand raising the gun, watched the woman's head explode. His finger twitched with the memory of the trigger against it.
"Harry!"
He turned his head sharply towards the large metal door and inhaled sharply at the muffled yet clear voice of Eggsy shouting his name. He set the pad to the side and got cautiously to his feet. He hadn't spoken to the younger man since waking up from the dream, since the dam had broken. He couldn't even look at him and it felt awful. He could only imagine what Eggsy was thinking right now.
He pressed his ear against the metal, holding his breath.
"I don't know, that's down to him. When he's ready."
"Has he…asked for...? - At all?"
Harry pressed his forehead against the door, pressed his lips together hard, swallowing thickly. He could hear the pain in the young man's voice, the uncertainly and it cut deeply. Closing his eyes he took a breath, behind his eyes he could imagine the look on Eggsy's face, the same look that had been there the day he'd failed his final test, the last time he'd seen him before it all went to hell.
Pushing himself off the door, his shoulders straightening, he walked back to the chair, picked up the tablet and retook his seat. His fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment before finally tapping it and watching numbly as the chaos erupted around him.
_Hartwin_
Harry tugged slightly at his trousers before taking a seat on the same leather couch he'd eagerly escaped not two weeks previously, crossing his legs he naturally let his body slanting to his left ever so slightly as he folded his hands primly into his lap and met the woman across from him head on.
It felt utterly different from his last meeting with Guinevere, knowing who she was and her background with the organisation set him at ease in a way he hadn't been before. Guinevere, aka Lucy Paterson-Quinn, was an Oxford educated psychotherapist who'd spent four years working with ex-service men and woman before being recruited to Kingsman five years ago. Harry had had dealings with her on occasion, though nothing like now. She was sweet when she wasn't sat staring into his soul like she could somehow see every crack. He could certainly appreciate what James had seen in her. He sighed regretfully as he waited for her to begin the conversation.
"How has your day been Galahad?" she asked gently.
He smiled warmly over at her. "I'm no longer Galahad. You'll have to call me Harry, and I've been well enough considering the circumstances, thank you Guinevere. And yourself?"
"Fine thank you."
Harry nodded and pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes never leaving her for one second. When she said nothing, he straightened his back and broke the silence. "You asked to see me." He pointed out.
"Yes, Harry." She nodded, her full lips curling at the corner. "I have allowed you a few days before bring you in."
"I'm a most grateful."
"But we do need to talk."
They sat silently for a few minutes, Harry determined not to be the one to break it this time. While he appreciated the need for a councillor he was never overly comfortable speaking to her, feelings were not something that came easy to him. – And he knew why, he didn't need a doctor to tell him his lack of paternal tenderness and understanding was the root cause of his being detached.
He won the battle, just as he knew he would when Guinevere asked. "What do you remember, Gala...sorry, Harry?"
"Mostly everything." He replied calmly. "I do not remember the incident itself very clearly, just images but I do…I regret to say, remember the events leading up to it." He sighed. He'd been having nightmares about that day all week, the constant flickering images of his violent actions. The blond haired woman's head exploding a constant presence.
"That's only natural."
Harry nodded, glancing off the side in a nonchalant, blasé way that belied the punishing weight on his soul.
"You realize that the guilt is also natural." She said as if seeing past his mask. "Despite our work, despite your training…"
"I'm aware, thank you Guinevere." He interrupted sharply.
The woman didn't so much as flinch at his tone, instead meeting his gaze with her own hard won strength. "How do you feel, Harry?" she asked, and Harry wished he had his armour to shield him from her intrusive questions.
Harry shifted, clearing his throat. "Fine."
She stared at him disbelievingly, silent and strangely intimidating. Harry inhaled slowly, his chin raised. He wanted to fight against her intrusion into his conscience, stop her from seeing beneath the crack. He used to be good at fighting that war, whenever his private life came up. Whenever he was asked about relationships outside of the Castle, he was always so good at keeping silent. – And yet…
"I killed almost a hundred people for no other reason than they were there. How would you feel?" he snapped breathlessly, his heart beating erratically beneath his ribs.
"I'd feel awful." She confirmed with a nod.
"Then don't ask stupid questions."
Guinevere smiled. "Logically you know it wasn't your fault, don't you? You know there was nothing you could have done to stop it."
"I should have left sooner, the second I realised Valentine wasn't there." He stated matter-of-factly. "I should have kept closer to the exit. I should have expected it to have been a trap."
"You think it was a trap?" Guinevere frowned.
"Not for me in particular, no, but it was a trap. – I should have taken back-up."
"Why didn't you?" she asked gently.
"Because I wasn't thinking." He barked. "My head was…somewhere else?"
"Where?"
Harry pressed his lips together stubbornly, his eyes dropping to stain on the grey carpet. He knew what had almost gotten him killed, or more accurately who but he wasn't about to voice it.
"Harry?"
He remained silent.
Guinevere sighed. "Okay. – But even if you'd taken back-up, even if you'd left the church before Valentine's test, you may very well have been affected anyway. – And there's the fact that what happened in that church, saved lives. They're deaths were not for nothing."
Harry clenched his teeth. He could feel the woman's eyes burning into the side of his face, taking him in, reading him like a book.
"Of course, you already know all of this." She sighed. "That's not why you're feeling guilty, is it?"
He inhaled sharply.
"You know the sooner you talk to me, the sooner you can leave. – I'm just trying to help Harry." She said softly, her voice filled with genuine care.
Harry closed his eyes and took a breath. "I… - I…liked it. It felt good. I…I hated those people and part of me thinks they deserved to die." He didn't meet her gaze after that.
"They were hateful people, Harry. We all know that, we all felt that and it would be natural to want them to be punished for that hatred. - But that doesn't mean you wanted to kill them. – Harry. – Harry."
He forced himself to raise his gaze to her, his stomach tight and his back straight.
"Harry, you were as much as victim as the rest of the people in that church. You were merely defending yourself."
"I shot first."
Guinevere closed her eyes and inhaled. "I know. – But would it have turned out any differently if someone else had been the first affected, if that woman you shot had been the one to pull a gun? Would it?"
Harry didn't even need to think about it, he shook his head.
"Exactly, you're a trained agent and you would have walked out of that church one way or another, just as many of our operative did during that horrific time." She leant forward, her dark eyes meeting his. "Harry, you're not the only one having to deal with what they did, and just like the rest of the world, you will find a way to live with it." she promised.
Harry nodded. He knew she was right, he did and it wasn't as if those people were the first civilians to get caught up in the crossfire but it wasn't about the body count, not really, it was about the total loss of control and the pure satisfaction he'd received from the kills. It had been like nothing he'd ever felt in all his years. It was dark and seductive and soul destroying. How was he meant to get past that? How was he meant to forgive himself?
"Harry?"
"Are we finished?"
Guinevere sighed softly, smiling at him with understanding and warmth. "For now. I want to speak to you again."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. 11AM."
Harry pushed himself off the couch. "Very well. Thank you, Guinevere and goodnight."
"Goodnight Harry."
_Hartwin_
"Don't think I don't know why you put that boy forward." His father said matter-of-factly from the two way mirror.
Harry inhaled slowly, his eyes closing for a few moments. It was the same old argument. The same old accusations. You'd think after fifteen years and too many scars, that his father would be over his prejudices, but no he would always see Harry as his biggest failing, a son unworthy of him, who'd never produce an heir to carry on their illustrious family name.
Of course they'd come to an impasse years ago, reached a kind of stale mate. Harry had stopped trying to win his father over and Chester stopped trying to make him…normal. They'd stopped being father and son, and were now just colleagues, it seemed to suit them both.
"I put him forward because he's the best candidate. You saw his file."
Arthur looked at him with a raised brow but said nothing, simply turning back to the recruits as they made themselves comfortable in the beds for the night.
Harry stared at his candidate as he pressed a kiss to a photo tacked to the wall and settled against his pillow. "You'll see, Lee Unwin is a worthy addition to the ranks. – He'll make us all proud."
Arthur scoffed and turned away.
"Harry?"
He jolted at the sound of his friend's voice, turning away from the screen he'd been staring at the last twenty minutes. "Merlin?"
"How are y'feeling?"
"I've got a pounding headache. – But I'm…recovering." He said with a small smile. "Yourself?"
Merlin shrugged.
Harry sighed and switched off the video feed he's downloaded from the server.
"I see you've found your way back into the system?"
Harry smiled over at his friend as he strolled back to his bed.
"So you saw…"
"Yes." Harry sighed. "And you were right, he did what he had to do."
It had been hard watching his father be killed by Eggsy, harder still seeing him talking with Valentine. He never in a million years would have expected him to betray him, as well as the Kingsman. Sure they had never been close but to…hand him over to the megalomaniac, Harry didn't think he'd ever forgive him for that.
"We still don't know when Valentine got to him." Merlin said regretfully, shaking his head. "But it must have been before…"
"He sent me to my death?" Harry nodded. "Yes." Harry slipped his hands into the pockets of his robe and perched on the edge of the window seal, looking out over the estate. "I shamefully regret that I noticed no scar during my last meeting with Arthur." he swallowed, looking up to meet his friend sympathetic gaze. "I don't know why I'm so surprised, I've never been anything but a disappointment to him, though I'll confess I thought he held enough affection for him as his son to not have me killed."
"He made a secure phone call after you were shot, Harry. – I don't…" Merlin inhaled. "I don't thenk you bein' killed was ever the plan."
Harry smirked.
"I thenk Chester called him. Et's the only theng tha'makes sense, Harry."
Harry huffed humourlessly, pushing away from the window seat and turning to stare out at the view, shaking his head. "I wish I could believe that, Merlin. I really do."
"Harry, as much as you and Chester fought, he was still ya father and he never would 'ave wished you dead." Merlin watching his friends back for a few agonising moments before heaving a wary sigh. "Guinevere…" he said, changing the subject. "…wants to meet with you after lunch."
Harry nodded.
"I'll let her know." Merlin turned to leave, only to pause at the door and looked back at his old friend. "Eggsy's due back in three days."
Harry's back straightened and he took a slow breath. "Is… - How is the mission going?" he asked coolly.
"They've had a couple of mishaps but nothing either of them can't handle. – You were right about him Harry, he's a good lad."
Harry swallowed thickly, nodding. "Let me know when Guinevere's ready for me."
"Will do, Harry."
Harry waited for the click of the door before turning and falling down onto the cushioned window seat, is back pressed against the frame with a pained sigh, his shoulders slumping. It had been a week since Merlin had informed him Eggsy had requested to accompany Gwaine on his mission and in that week he'd had a constant weight in his gut, burning his insides like acid. A week of struggling to figure out where it was all meant to go from here, between him and his… - What? What was Eggsy to him now? What had he been before?
A/N: Hope you liked the flashbacks. As much as I love Michael Caine, I couldn't help but make him an asshole to Harry, because it's the only way to explain how he could sell Harry out, though considering that Valentine didn't kill Harry (at least in this fic) maybe he wasn't that much of an asshole.