To the states

Chapter 8

Eggsy's been working for Kingsman less than a year when he returns home from a stop at the market to a hole in the wall of buildings where his home should be. He doesn't know how to process it— barely has time to think about the implications before he sees a figure walking through the rubble from the other side. He draws his gun and aims, holding steady even after he recognizes the figure as Merlin.

"Eggsy, do you know what happened here?"

"I got no clue. I just got 'ome an' there's a giant fucking hole where my 'ouse should be. Jb was in there." He lets out a harsh breath.

"Eggsy, I regret to inform you that this happened to every Kingsman agent and base of operations."

"Rox?" Eggsy breathes.

Merlin gives a solemn nod. "Aye. I'm sorry, lad, I know the two of you were close."

Eggsy puts his hand up to his face and shakes his head, tears already stinging at his eyes. Isn't he supposed to be in denial? Shouldn't it take a while for this to feel real before this anguish takes over his whole self?

"Kingsman may be down, but we're still here and as far as I'm concerned, you're still agent Galahad. There is a protocol for us to follow in an event such as this. I need you to remember your training, pull yourself together. You can deal with what you're feeling once we've seen this through."

This is all fresh enough that Eggsy can compartmentalize. He can— has to— pretend that this is all some sort of test that Merlin made up; that Roxy will drink him under the table after all this and merlin will hand JB back safe and sound. For now, though, he'll follow orders.

—0—

Merlin is sobbing and singing into Eggsy's shoulder by the time they get to the bottom of the bottle. The bottle. They work for an underground, rich as fuck spy organization, and their doomsday protocol is a fucking bottle of whiskey. Eggsy turns the bottle over in his hands, letting out a humorless laugh. If God is real, he's cruel and has the absolute worst sense of humor. The specific alcohol that was left for them to find, is of course, from the distillery that took you from him years ago. Even though his drunken haze, he knows that's dramatic. He knows going to Statesman was your choice but that doesn't change how this feels. As he turns the aged bottle over, he knows that an agent put it in the safe years before either of you were even born. Still, after losing everything, he needs someone. You're the person he's always turned to for comfort, so it isn't shocking that his mind fabricates a connection to you through this representation of your new life in his hands. So, he stares at the glass with longing, while trying to be a rock for Merlin.

He stares long enough, in fact, that at rock bottom, completely on accident, he finds a clue. There, printed on the back, it says: DISTILLED IN KENTUCKY. He has to blink the drink from his eyes to confirm what he's seeing. There, right before him, is the Kingsman logo staring back at him from its spot leading the state's name.

"Merlin, I think we're goin' to Kentucky." It's the only thing resembling a clue they have. Why couldn't this of all things be the one thing that Kingman did away with all the smoke and mirrors for? But now that he's seen it, he can't take his eyes off it. He knows its a real clue, wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't. Even as he thinks this, the only thing he can bring himself to care about at this point is that he'll get to see you.

"Fried chicken? Sure I—"

Eggsy's brain has to play catch up for a minute before he even knows what Merlin's talking about. "No, proper Kentucky."

"Eggsy, I know you lost everything— I did too— but now isn't the time to go see your girlfriend."

"No, Merlin— look." Eggsy thrusts the bottle in front of merlin, pointing out what he found.