Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations the characters find themselves in. Thanks so much for continuing to read and giving me feedback on my work. It's muchly appreciated and I do read every review you send me!

NOTE: IMPORTANT: This fanfic is an AU of my fanfic 'My End and My Beginning'. You don't have to have read it to understand this fanfic, but there will be plot overlap and reuse of characters.

A New Twist of Fate

London, England. 1999

In some part of his brain Harry knew that it would be ridiculously easy for him to break the hold Christopher currently had on his arm. He was Galahad, after all. A member of Kingsman. And yet...and yet apparently still sadly a complete and utter idiot where Christopher Devin was concerned. The fact that his boyhood lover was married, with children, should have been enough to fizzle any interest he might have had-but when Christopher spoke to him like this, looked at him like this, it was all Harry could do to remember why he shouldn't give in to the bastard's seduction techniques.

The fact that he was feeling lonely, hadn't had anyone's company in bed but his own in far too long, and had already had two whiskeys wasn't helping matters one little bit. But still, he'd been foolish enough to get involved with Christopher once, and only an idiot made the same bloody mistake twice.

"Thank you for that…kind offer, Christopher, but as I stated previously, I'm not interested in revisiting old times. I suggest you look elsewhere in the room for someone who doesn't care that you're married."

"You always do this, Harry. You know that." Moving in closer, his voice a seductive drawl that had once brought Harry to his knees literally, Christopher knew just how to manipulate Harry and they both knew it. "You play the oh so proper gentleman, refusing to let anyone get close enough to see the flesh and blood man under your perfectly tailored suits. It's no wonder that you're so often alone. Aren't you tired of it? Don't you want to have more than that government job you've chained yourself to all these years? You remember what we had. What I made you feel. Don't you want to feel that way again?"

He did. Fuck his life, but he did. But only the good feelings, which in this case would not last long once they'd-

Mind immediately shifting gears as he caught sight of a familiar figure making his way towards him-what the Devil was Merlin doing here-Harry dismissed Christopher just that easily as he went into work mode. This was not the sort of place Merlin was comfortable with. His friend was entirely accepting of Harry's sexuality, but froze like a deer in headlights when men hit on him. Ergo this had to be work related. And whatever it was, it was too sensitive to speak of over the phone.

"Excuse me."

Jerking his arm free Harry didn't give the protesting man a second glance as his long legs ate up the distance between himself and his closest friend, Merlin's face solemn and dead serious as he inclined his head in greeting.

"Merlin." Keeping his voice low in case of eavesdroppers, Harry continued to keep his voice down as they turned and started back the way Merlin had come. "Problem?"

"Most likely. A very interesting puzzle, if nothing else."

"Oh?"

"Approximately four and a half hours ago a triple nine call came in. A woman, Margret Souple, reported finding a young man in his early twenties lying on the ground unconscious. There was some sort of wreckage around him-as yet unidentified. Was not there earlier in the day as Miss. Souple regularly walks her dog in that area. The young man had on his person fraudulent ID and a gun whose make and model are not in our system. On scene was also a suitcase containing clothing and tech gear that is also unknown both in use and model, and a locked briefcase no one can apparently open. And when the young man regained consciousness after the paramedics and police arrived he showed an aptitude for hand-to-hand combat and pulled a knife from an ankle holster on them. Luckily for them he was in no condition to get far and was aiming to injure, not kill."

"You believe him to be one of us?" By which Harry meant a spy. Or at least a trained agent for some government.

"The strange tech caught the attention of MI6. They have their people monitoring for such things and they sent a couple agents to look into it. Currently they have taken custody of him. We were notified because of an interesting piece of information found in the boy's pocket."

The look Merlin gave him did not bode well for him. Harry could feel it in his bones as the butler who manned the front door appeared to hold it open for them, both Harry and Merlin thanking him before exiting.

Waiting on the curb outside was a Kingsman car. Merlin's father was sitting in the back.

Fuck. That could not be good.

Merlin's father was the head of Kingsman and a legend. He was also too frail physically to do much more than the paperwork and the mission assignments that went with the job. If he was coming along for the ride this was big. Very big.

"What was in the boy's pocket?"

"Directions to come here to find 'Harry'. Written in my handwriting. With my fingerprints. It also had the time, explanation of how to get in, and a hand drawn map, also by me. To find you."

"Your..." That did not make sense.

"Exactly. I didn't write that note. I didn't know you were coming here until you were on your way out from the shop. Less than two hours ago. But the handwriting matches up. As does the prints. I've never seen the lad before in my life."

He'd decided to come here on the spur of the moment after Merlin declined his offer to go get dinner with him. There was no way in hell some boy should have-could have known to find him here hours before he'd made the decision to come.

"Get in the car. I'm driving. We're on our way to speak with the boy and get some bloody answers."

"Are you sure you should drive?" Only someone who knew Merlin well would be able to tell how freaked out the Scot was by all this.

"The alternative would be you since Da is forbidden from driving. I'm driving."

That was fair.

Getting in the front passenger seat Harry greeted his boss while he buckled himself in.

"Galahad. Apologies for interrupting your evening."

"No apologies necessary. Merlin has been filling me in-what does the boy have to say for himself?"

"Amnesia."

Harry scoffed at that.

"Exactly my reaction. Especially since the boy had a few very minor lacerations to his head and face, but no head wound that would make that a real possibility."

"The boy isn't in our database, obviously. A new recruit sent to execute me?" Though the question of how any organization would know where to find him, much less predict where he'd be in the future was very much on Harry's mind.

"That's another interesting twist. His reason, when asked, about why he needed to leave the scene was 'I have to find Harry. He's in danger. I have to find him.' Those were his last words before passing out. Since regaining consciousness he is only willing to state two things. One is that 'Harry' is in danger and needs to be protected...and that a picture in his suitcase is the person you're in danger from."

"Who am I in danger from? This time."

"No facial recognition on this one either. However...the man in the picture bears a notable resemblance to Ector in his younger years. Mid twenties, most likely."

"Ector?" Ector did not like him. The feeling was more than mutual.

From the folder he had in his lap Arthur pulled out a collection of photographs, holding them out to Harry to look over.

Taking them Harry studied the three photographs of his would be protector/possible assassin first.

First thought...if the boy had been sent to kill him than someone in the boy's agency wanted him very dead to send him after Harry. He'd eat this boy alive. In more than one way, too, Harry silently acknowledged with an inner smirk. Even with the bruises and cuts he was obviously handsome and in excellent shape. There was character in the face the hint of a predator in those blue eyes.

"I don't recognize him."

"Apparently his accent indicates he's British. From East London, working class."

Even stranger. Especially given the expensive looking suit and watch the young man was shown to be wearing in the one picture.

Shuffling to the next picture Harry found himself looking at a man only a little older than the previous one-and very much NOT his type. And not just because the resemblance to Ector was plain. This one radiated superiority and entitlement. Weak looking jaw, Harry noted, and the cast of the skin, the eyes, made him wonder if this man wasn't on something. Or coming off of something. Either way he took an instant dislike to him while also being offended that anyone might think that this overdressed twat stood any more of a chance of killing him than the other one.

"He looks like a King. What did Ector and Kay say?"

Father and son were in Italy, Harry recalled. A family wedding.

"Ector stated that he didn't recognize him. Kay thought he might have seen him, or someone who looks like him, at the wedding. He said he'd keep us informed."

The father he trusted about as far as the Queen could throw Ector. But Kay was an honorable man. Harry often thought that the man had not only gotten his share of honor, but his father's as well. Possibly his grandfather's, too.

"I've sent people to collect the wreckage the lad was found with. Merlin and I will take a crack at identifying it and all the tech the boy apparently had on him. I'll leave the boy to you, Galahad, since he's apparently in such a hurry to get to you."

"Yes, Sir."

)

Arthur wasn't only a legend in Kingsman. He knew a great many people in MI6 who had no idea he was the head of a top-secret spy organization. They knew him as the infamous inventor and creator of many of their most advanced and cutting-edge technology, and were thus eager to roll out the red carpet for him when he arrived. Harry and Merlin were treated as welcomed entourage. It was a role they were more than willing to take as they were escorted through the building on their way to meet up with one of the highest-ranking members of the organization. Who just so happened to also be the son of a former Kingsman and therefore very much aware of them and eager to assist.

Pleasantries quickly exchanged Assistant Director Stirling informed them that they had no new data to add at this time. They were, regrettably, still working on a way to open the case without damaging the contents. The case had been designed to somehow block its contents from being scanned and thus there could be anything inside it. Ergo for the moment they were leaving it alone in case something dangerous would be released if they forced it open. The subject had refused to open it for them.

"And I believe he knows how. Though I also think...I know it's mad, especially since there's nothing to support it aside from his behavior, but my gut says he's not lying when he says he doesn't remember his name or who he is."

A telling pause.

"We've also confirmed that your son's fingerprints were on three of the pieces of unknown tech we recovered."

Merlin cursed.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Completely unruffled by the news-or at least too experienced to show it-Arthur asked if any fingerprints had been recovered that did not belong to his son or the young man they'd come to see.

"Just the two sets."

Turning a corner the four of them had taken perhaps four steps when they spotted him.

Coming towards them, pretending to be deeply absorbed in the contents of a manila folder he was all but sticking his face against in his quest to use it as a shield, was their mystery man.

Who had apparently escaped the MI6 agents assigned to watch him, Harry silently acknowledged, his opinion of the boy rising a little. Not that kicking the arse of an MI6 agent was all that difficult-but it was still noteworthy.

And given his limited resources and likely time restraints the folder was doing an adequate job of his face from the camera and the three other people in the hallway with them. Save for Stirling the other members of the agency didn't seem to be paying any attention to the young man as they hurried along their way. Typical.

In his head Harry rolled his eyes at that.

At his side Stirling made a call on his phone to have someone check on the status of his likely unconscious or possibly dead agents.

The unknown entity was about three meters away from them when it happened. A brief glance up from the folder to scan his surroundings and likely to make sure he wasn't on a collision course with anyone. Those sharp blue eyes landed on them and just like that the folder came completely down, dropped to the floor without a backward thought as its contents went flying.

"Harry! Merlin!"

The relief on the young man's face seemed genuine. The way he ran towards them without any hint of strategy or awareness of his surroundings...

Better trained than he'd thought, Harry mused as at the last moment the boy came to a grinding halt, literally skidding a little before he threw himself at Harry. Or that seemed to have been his intent before his common sense apparently kicked in.

"Please tell me you know who the fuck I am cause I know that I know you-and I think I know ya from somewhere but I can't place where, sorry-but I'm freaking the fuck out."

"I'm afraid I don't recognize you either." Arthur supplied. "Do you know how you know my son and his friend?"

"No fuc-friggin clue. I woke up on the ground and I don't know nothin cept that I needed to find Harry and the smarmy lookin git in that piccie they took from me. And I know you're them-but I don't know why."

"I don't recognize you, I'm sorry." Harry gave the younger man his most charming smile, playing at being harmless for the time being.

"But I was supposed ta meet ya, wasn't I? The note they showed me. Or was that a plant?"

The boy was giving him such a wide eyed, puppy look. Harry was actually sorry that he couldn't tell him that he had meant to meet him. This boy was good.

"If I might make a suggestion." Arthur began smoothly. "Perhaps the answers to at least some of your questions might be in the case recovered with you. The one you've refused to open."

The look the young man shot in Stirling's direction indicated his lack of trust.

Picking up on that Merlin's dad stated that if he wanted, it would just be the four of them in the room when he opened the case. People he obviously knew, even if he couldn't remember how he knew them.

Mulling that one over the man seemed to debate the pros and cons of that in his head for a couple minutes before nodding.

"Gonna go with my gut. Okay. But just you lot. Not im."

"I'll show you where the items are. I had them sequestered in a conference room for your viewing." Stirling stated all that very stiffly, no doubt furious that the injured young man had apparently taken out his security and so effortless made his way this far. Stirling had stated the boy was being kept two floors below where they were now. So the boy had made it this far without tripping any alarms or attracting any notice until encountering them. That had to sting.

Stirling took the lead, the still nameless young man moving to walk beside Harry, which he permitted. Considering their height difference the boy managed to keep up with his stride fairly well.

And he kept shooting him sidelong looks like he was trying to figure out where he knew Harry from.

And when he wasn't doing that, the man was scanning the space around them for possible threat, angling his body ever so slightly like he was acting as Harry's bodyguard. Protecting him. As if he needed protecting.

It was both annoying and...oddly sweet. If it was genuine. Which it most likely was not.

)

Fuck but he really hoped that there was some fucking answers in that case they'd kept harping about. Like his name, for instance. They'd tried using the name on the ID with him and while he didn't know what his name was, he was pretty fucking sure that it wasn't Charlie Weasley. Especially since his immediate reaction to the name Charlie was rage. Though not to Weasley. Weird. But not important. Especially when he couldn't remember his own fucking name or why he might be wandering around England with a bloody gun and a mission to protect the hot as fuck man walking beside him. 'Harry' who made him want to hug him and hold on to him for the foreseeable fucking future like his life depended on it.

A man who also was so not fooling him with his charming, harmless routine. Fuck no. He might not know his own goddamn name at the moment, but he knew dangerous when it was staring him in the fucking face. And right now 'Danger-'.

Nevermind. That didn't work when he couldn't remember his actual name.

Or where he'd learned to beat the hell out of people or get through all the fucking security in this place. Whatever or wherever this place was. Not that they were liable to tell him. None of them trusted him at the moment.

Which was another reason to let them into the case. He didn't know what was in it...but he needed to do something to show them that he wasn't the bad guy.

Or at least he fucking hoped he wasn't a bad guy.

Fuck his life, seriously.