Author's Note: OH MY FUCKING BELLAMY I ACTUALLY PLANNED TO ONLY START WRITING THIS CHAP ON FRIDAY SINCE I'VE GOT SO MUCH TO DO FOR UNIVERSITY BUT FUCK THAT THE GOLDEN CIRCLE TRAILER IS SO AWESOME I HAD TO WRITE THIS. IN LITTLE MORE THAN ONE DAY. I'M SO HYPED I'M CONSTANTLY SCREAMING. THE EYEPATCH, PEOPLE! THE EYEPATCH! CALLED IT, CALLED IT, CAAAAAALLED IIIIT! *runs of laughing like the maniac I most definitely am*

joycelyn. : "tata, bitches" xDD great one!

Please enjoy this chap, you wonderful people, and please keep reviewing! This fic wouldn't be good at all without you motivating me! And now, please excuse me, Ladies and Gentlemen, while I watch that awesome trailer over and over again until my heart explodes from excitement.

Home Sweet Home

Looking from one coin to another, Victoria became painfully aware of the negative side-effects of privilege. Never in her life had it been necessary for her to use a telephone box, had merely regarded the pretty red booths as a tourist attraction, a form of colourful accessoire to brighten up the picture of London. Now, though, as she was uncomfortable with asking random people on the street to use their mobile phones - most didn't even own one anyway or, understandibly so, were unwilling to lend such an expensive device to a stranger - or in restaurants, Victoria was forced to resort on this alternative. Embarrassment over her current situation just made her wish to get as few people involved as possible. She'd even thought of breaking into her room at home to fetch her own mobile, but the possibility of encountering her mother, as faint as it may be with her set of skills, had made her abandon the idea in almost an instant. Besides, it might render her whole plan pointless.

As she'd been sitting there at the entrance door to Kingsman & Sons, with no tears left to cry, she'd pushed all her sadness aside in order to be able to rationally contemplate on her options concerning where to stay for the moment, after finding the right apartment for her own would take quite some time.

She couldn't go home, since facing her mother would be too difficult. Firstly, in Victoria's annoyingly emotional state, it'd be almost unbearable to have to lie about what actually happened, and, secondly, her home was far too close to the Kingsman shop. The risk of crossing paths with someone like Arthur every single time she went for a walk with Harry was simply too high for her liking. So going home was out of the question.

An option that would rid her of the latter problem was to grab her suitcase - it had been foolish to leave it behind, since going back for it had gotten her dangerously close to the window which Nan was sitting next to - go to the airport with Harry, buy a ticket to Australia and live with her father for a while. But he was less discrete than her mother, so that he would bombard her with questions, all of which Victoria would have to answer with yet another lie to his face. So that was not ideal either.

Putting up at a hotel was impossible as well, since all of her credit card billings were addressed to her home, making her mother know what's going on in a matter of days.

So, Victoria was left with three other options, three people she could stay with: Her brothers, Galahad and Alasdair. Each of those options was definitely more appealing than the others and she was determined to try one after the other until one of them worked the way she wanted it to. And this was exactly what she was doing right now... at least as soon as she figured out how much a call cost, as some wit must have torn the instructions off the wall.

Deciding for fifty pence, Victoria put the receiver to her ear and waited.

Ringing. Good. She made it work. Now he only had to answer.

The phone gave another rang, then a second, then a third... then a fourth. Victoria sighed, but just when she was about to hang up, a voice came from the receiver: "Alasdair Whitehall's phone, how may I help you?"

Surprised by the far to chesty voice to be Alasdair's, Victoria frowned. "Oh, good evening. Is this Herbert I am speaking to?"

"It is, Miss. And with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"Victoria Davies-Norwood, Sir. We met when you picked Alasdair up a couple of days ago."

"Ah, Miss Norwood! Please excuse me for not reckognising your voice. It was a rather short meeting we had and my ears are not as good as they used to be. I do know you to quite some extent, though. Master Alasdair told me much about you."

"I hope only good things!"

"Of course, of course! Master Alasdair is very fond of you, Miss."

That conjured a smile to Victoria's face. "I am glad to hear that. May I speak to him, please?"

The butler paused. Victoria's smile vanished slowly. "Master Alasdair... is currently not available..."

She waited for him to continue, give further explanations, but the elderly man remained silent. Even through the phone Victoria could hear him thinking, considering his words.

Something was wrong.

"Herbert, what happened? Where's Alasdair?", she said in a demanding tone, her features hardening.

Herbert hesitated, but not for long. "He's...", he began, then paused again, which was followed by a sigh. "To be honest, I hoped you could shed light on that matter, Miss."

"Me?"

"Well... you see, there have been some... difficulties upon his return, which was why he left. Master Whitehall reckons it an overreaction and that his son will come to his senses eventually and return, but he's been missing for almost a week now... He's never had a wide circle of friends... and he's never run away before... so I do not know where to look... I thought, perhaps, you would know?"

The genuine concern the man's voice resonated with was touching, but Victoria couldn't help but feel nothing but anger.

Difficulties. What kind of difficulties have arisen Victoria could imagine. Alasdair must have had a fight with his father, the father who had always met him with total indifference, which, as Victoria deemed it, was far more hurtful, far more gruesome than resentment. His reaction towards his son's rejection by Kingsman must have been the straw to break the camel's back. Actually, Victoria was surprised that Alasdair hadn't packed up long ago. He should have, she thought, took a deep breath and gulped down her irritation.

"I'm afraid I don't know about his whereabouts either. But I-", she started, but stopped herself in the middle of the sentence. She wanted to say 'But I could find him for you.' And she could. Easily. She's found a Kingsman without any special training. Now she was a trained spy and she couldn't imagine Alasdair barricading himself in some remote place. He probably hasn't even left London. She could root him out in probably less than a week... However, she wouldn't. Alasdair was her friend and he surely had his reasons to disappear, especially since she knew about the relationship to his father. He didn't want to be found. He needed a break. And she would grant it to him.

Smiling, she made herself sound confident. "But I hope you'll be able to find him, Sir. Please contact me as soon as you do, yes?"

"Of course..." Herbert's disappointment sounded so great, it almost made her change her mind... but not quite. "At which telephone number may I reach you?"

It usually was a simple question, but not to her. Not today.

Which of her remaining two options was she taking an attempt on first? Staying with Galahad seemed like the easier way from an emotional point of view, since there wouldn't have to be any lies involved. But he also was her former mentor; Victoria would constantly come in contact with the organisation that had rejected her, the fact she would like to be reminded of the least at the moment. Her brothers would do that as well with the subtle pestering they were certainly about to engage in, though not to such an extent...

Impulsively, she decided upon a number.

With closed eyes, she took a deep breath, sinking even more into his arms.

"Thank you for everything. I love you.", she whispered.

"I love you too." The gentle kiss he planted on her head let the her soft smile grow wider.

"And me? What about me?" Victoria looked up at Nick, who was just pouring her a cup of hot tea. "See, Charlie? I brewed tea for her. She certainly loves me even more than you. She's just too polite to say so."

Her brother scowled at his twin, while she sat up, taking the empty glass from the side table next to the couch. "Well, that's very considerate of you, Nick, but... you know... Charlie gave me some Scotch in the meantime, sooo... there is indeed a certain tendency towards a favourite brother..."

Nick's eyes widened. "You gave her alcohol to stop her from crying?" A grin spread over his face. "The good old days, huh?"

Victoria looked up from the cup of tea she was taking a sip from, frowning at her now laughing brothers. "What's that supposed to mean, 'good old days'?"

As Nick sat down next to her, making himself comfortable on the large couch, Charlie spoke up: "Weeeeell... it might be the case, might, that when you were crying as a baby-"

"- we dipped your dummy into Whisky!"

With mouth agape, Victoria stared straight ahead, until something struck her. "Wait... It wasn't too strong for me? It must have burned as hell, mustn't it?"

Furrowing their brows, her brothers looked at each other. "Hm... No... Actually, you seemed to like it."

Blinking, she looked at Charlie. He shrugged, unable to answer her implicit question about how that was even possible. Then she let out a deep sigh and put the cup to her mouth again, muttering: "Fantastic, I used to be an alcoholic baby..."

Her brothers burst into laughter and even Victoria couldn't avoid giggling a little over seeing Harry completely losing it as well, jumping up and down and barking in the happy manner she hadn't thought possible to see from him on this dreadful day. Well, dreadful up to the moment she'd knocked on the door to her brothers' apartment.

She'd been determined to greet them with a smile, with joy over finally reuniting with them again concealing any trace of the sorrow that actually dominated her emotions. However, the moment she caught sight of Nick's and Charlie's shocked faces - they had been apart for a considerably long time - her "Hi." had turned into a sob and, before she could even grasp what was happening, she had already found herself being caught in a group hug, with Harry's part of it being nudging her legs with his nose. She'd let out everything, every bit of grief she'd still been bottling up, told them everything about what had happened - a modified version of the events, naturally - until nothing remained lingering in her chest but a warm and fuzzy feeling only the embracement by family was able to evoke. They would shelter her for the time being and they wouldn't say a word to her mother either. "Promised." They only had a tiny problem with having Harry here, as they were just as little of animal lovers as Victoria used to be in the time prior to this gift of a dog. Apparently they feared that he might damage some of their electronic equipment with which they'd cluttered their otherwise spacious apartment up - it was a three-bedroom flat in a modern and luxury apartment building, just as it became a Norwood - which was why Charlie's laughter now adopted an undertone of nervousness upon watching Harry be in such an excited state.

"Don't worry, he might seem like a loose cannon, but if you ask him to, he behaves like the perfect gentleman. Come on, try it! Just remember to be as polite to him as you would be to human beings."

Charlie glanced at her, scepsis sparkling in his eyes, but, eventually, he straightened his shoulders and in a calm tone he said: "Harry, please be cautious around our devices..."

Immediately, the dog stopped jumping around, barked once and lay down, happily panting away.

Her brother's moment of triumph was brusquely interrupted by the doorbell, though, which he quickly went to answer.

"Hey,", the other one, Nick, addressed her. "do you already have an idea what to do next?"

Victoria shook her head, feeling sadness creep into her mind once again. "Not yet, unfortunately..."

Gently, he started poking her arm. "Don't - wow, you've really built up some muscles here, huh? - What I wanted to say is: Don't be down in the mouth. You're an amazing actress and you're gonna make it with it without this job."

"I know... It's just... I really, really wanted this. Nothing has ever felt so right for me, you know?"

"Hey, this box is for you.", Charlie cut in when he reentered the room with a package made of brown cardboard in his hands and a surprised expression on his face. "I thought it was a spontaneous decision to come here."

"It was. I don't know who this is from...", she wondered, but as he handed her the box, she instantly knew how it could have reached her here. Attached to a thin golden ribbon tied around one of the parcel's corners, there was a small, rectangular piece of white paper with a message written down on it in perfectly cursive letters, saying:

For the most marvellous Hound

G.

It'd been to be expected of Kingsman to monitor her, and all the other failed candidates, for that matter, in order to make sure noone betrayed the secret. Any spilled detail, as vague as it may be, bore severe consequences... perhaps even those of the 'permanently silencing'- kind. It was a preventative method and Victoria realised its general necessity - even though they should have known that she didn't intend to reveal anything at all - and since she was certain that she wouldn't be spied on for very long, she would tolerate it... Especially since Galahad got to know where she lived thereby.

"Who's 'G.'?"

"That's Mr Meyrick, my mentor."

"Really? I could have sworn mum said his first name was Callum."

"His middle name's George. He likes his friends to call him that." The lie rolled off her tongue so easily, it almost scared Victoria.

"Wait a second." Nick narrowed his eyes to slits. "What kind of friendship are we talking about?"

"They're on first-name terms..."

"... and he calls her marvellous..."

"... and gives her a nickname. Not a particularly pretty one, admittedly, but it surely is an in-joke."

"Do you have many in-jokes, Victoria? You and your 'friend' George?"

"Will you two shut up? It's not like that."

"She's blushing."

"She's so blushing."

"You're impossible...", she sighed, after punsihing them with a raised brow coupled with a black look , and focused on the box.

For a second she considered opening it when she was alone only, since its content might be too related to Kingsman for her brothers to see, but then she reminded herself of the fact that Galahad would have taken that into account when sending it here, so the risk was indeed low. So after cautiously removing the ribbon, she flipped the cover back and... gazed at the most beautiful suit in existence.

The pinstripe navy blue suit was tailored in such a way that it would hug her athletic, yet feminine figure like a second skin, just like the crisp white shirt folded beneath it and the black foulard tie suited them just as well as she'd imagined. It was the very suit she'd described to the young apprentice Richard in Kingsman & Sons. It was the very sort of suit Galahad had worn during their first encounter, only that it was made for her. It was her suit. Her Kingsman suit... Her armour.

Nick let out an acknowledging whistle.

"Now that's some really nice suit.", Charlie added. "I didn't know Kingsman clothed women as well."

"Well, I needed one so...", she replied, directing her eyes towards Harry who'd cocked his ears at the sight of the suit. He looked as though just having the same idea that struck her.

Yes, Victoria finally knew what to do next.