Weeks began to pass until soon a month had gone by and yet nothing had really changed. Of course the memories were still there but Alastair hadn't seemed to move forward with anything and James didn't press. Both talked to their respected confidents about what was going on, or really lack thereof, but other than that nothing occurred. Still, the atmosphere was easy and any tension that had remained had now completely evaporated.

Missions occurred and life went on as normal until one day Alastair was working with Merlin at the HQ in England. Unless a threat was immediate to the UK, staying there usually consisted of examining paperwork or reviewing other agents on the job. If it had just been Alastair, the man would have been juggling both jobs but Merlin did his usual thing with his computers and tech and Alastair simply went over the formalities, something he didn't mind as the work was simple with always a logical process that was surprisingly calming despite the employment.

Nevertheless the sudden sound of running feet had Alastair jumping up and following Merlin into his room. He heard words like 'agent', 'explosion', 'down', and 'lost comms' but other than that the words came to quickly to understand.

Merlin sat down and gave quick, to the point orders as he switched video feeds and contacted different HQs. Alastair followed the path easily, slowly piecing together what happened without bothering Merlin until the man finally let out a tired sigh and eased back into his chair, clearly having done all that he could do.

"Who's been killed?" Alastair asked steadily. He knew it wasn't Galahad. Even though he followed the rules almost as strictly as Alastair, he knew that Merlin held a certain favoritism towards Harry above all other agents and if Harry was gone there would have been a much more emotional or at least defeated reaction than just a simple sigh. Nevertheless that still left many options.

"I don't know if he's been killed. As of right now he's just down. All communications have been lost. I have a team being sent to go over the scene now but it's doubtful they'll find anything of substance. The place was blown sky high," muttered Merlin.

"Yes but which agent is it?" asked Alastair coolly.

"The mission was in France Percival."

"I didn't ask where the mission was I asked who was running point," Alastair replied, his nerves finally getting a bit on edge. "Who was it Merlin?"

"Did he not tell you where he was the last time he made contact with you?"

The question basically told Alastair who it was but the lack of a name was Merlin's way of trying to be gentle with the subject and though deep down Alastair appreciated it, he really just needed a straight answer. "Tell me, the name."

"It's Lancelot. We have no idea where he is," Merlin said softly.

"You know where he is," murmured Alastair, his entire body growing cold. "At least parts of him."

Merlin let out something that was a mix between a sigh and a groan, a noise usually only reserved for Galahad. "Don't be so morbid."

"You've never been bothered by my morbidity. My pessimistic views. My focus on the job. My lack of caring—"

"Oh, because you clearly don't care," Merlin replied. "You need to take some time off."

"Why?"

"Because you're breaking and I can tell."

For a moment, Alastair just stood there, unsure of what to say, what to do. Unsure of rather to fall apart or close himself off completely. Finally he said, "I'm going to finish the paperwork now. It needs to get done."

"Percival—"

"Tell me when they find the body."

"We don't know he's dead—"

"Just inform me."

Merlin didn't get the chance to say anything else as Alastair was already hurrying away, back to the documents, back to the preciseness, the certainty, the…the…

…the lack of caring.

Alastair's entire body hurt like he'd been the one blown off his feet. It was difficult to breath, difficult to move. He forced himself to concentrate beyond the pain, the heartache.

He knew that Merlin had some hope that Lancelot, that James, would be alright and if anyone had a habit of random and unexpected miracles it was Kingsman. But just as often tragedies came, just as random and just as shocking as any miracle.

And if James was alive he would contact the agency within the hour. If he was still breathing in the rubble then their men would find him. But the chance of it occurring was practically null.

So, instead of screaming, instead of falling to the floor, unable to move, instead of leaving like Merlin thought was best, Alastair went past his duty and continued on with the paperwork, hours upon hours drifting by. Files and documents that could have been put off for days were finished as twenty-four hours easily passed.

Alastair felt like he was ghosting through time, nothing truly mattering anymore. The shock, the pain, it was all slowly turning to a crippling numbness that he didn't think would ever seep out of his bones.

It was four in the afternoon when Merlin was running past again only this time an alarm was ringing. There was an immediate threat.

Like a heart being jumpstarted, Alastair was moving. Part of him felt gone, still asleep, but instinct and years of training, before and at Kingsman, was kicking in.

"What's the threat?" Alastair asked, all emotion gone from his voice.

"An unknown vehicle is approaching," Merlin replied as he tapped away at the keyboard. "The vehicle was…reported stolen eight hours ago. The windows are tinted. I can't tell who's driving."

Alastair looked over at the origin of the vehicle: France. For less than a second hope appeared but Alastair crushed it, instead going into a defensive mode as he turned around and made it up to ground level. He headed towards the front of the estate, just barely registering that Merlin was following him, his standard issued pistol out as well.

Alastair looked out from behind a curtain and watched the car come to a complete stop in front of the steps. Time seemed to still as Alastair's breath caught in his throat and he watched the door open. Slowly, one foot was set on the ground and then the other. The back side of a man appeared. He looked like he'd run through a burning building, hunched over and heavily using the car as support.

Letting the curtain fall again, Alastair quickly opened the front door. Pistol still out, he walked down two steps before the man finally hobbled around the door, face finally turning to Alastair.

He was running.

At any other point, Alastair running straight at James wouldn't have done much. Maybe caused the other to stumble, a slight slipping of feet, but in this instance James went down immediately and with Alastair on top of him.

"Hello to you too," groaned James as he craned his head up. "You know a simple handshake would have been fine."

Alastair, who was hugging tightly to James with his head buried in the other's chest before he pulled his head up and said, "Shut up. I'm having a god damn moment while trying to figure out how to say I love you!"

Immediately Alastair's face went red as James looked at him in shock. "I think you just did."

"Oh shut up," growled Alastair as he once again buried his face into James' dirty cloths.

James didn't say anything else as he watched Alastair and felt the growing wetness where Alastair had hidden his face. Unable to think up any words for the situation, James rested his head back on the ground and slowly ran his fingers through Alastair's hair.

"It's alright. I'm back. I'm okay," murmured James, his voice soft and soothing.

Neither noticed Merlin on the steps of the estate or heard his words as he muttered, "Shit. Now I owe Harry twenty quid."

AN: And I've reached the halfway mark! Thank you all. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I loved writing it :)