Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was just a door. Ornately carved and beautifully varnished, it stood around six and a half feet and was the sort of door you would expect on an old Estate such as this. Wood, the colour of dark treacle, had been polished to a gleam; so much so that the wall lights that followed the path of the hallway caused pools of soft amber to highlight the wonderful carvings.

It wasn’t as if she’d never seen the door before, they were everywhere; her own rooms had a pair just like it. So why couldn't she knock? Her hand was already raised, fingers curled in to expose her knuckles... but had got no further than a few inches from the door. It hovered awkwardly for a few seconds before she huffed and let it fall back to her side.

Fear was nothing new to her. She'd felt it since the very first moment she stepped into the training academy. She'd felt it coil and twist in her belly during the grueling months of tests, and felt it rise up her throat, like bile, when she was strapped into those bloody space balloons. It had stabbed sharply at her heart when she discovered that Eggsy had been taken. Fear was natural; she couldn't do her job without it. So she learned how to overcome or use it as the situation called.

But this kind of fear was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since she was a child, when the relationship between her parents had been starting to fray. It made her stomach knot uncomfortably.

Behind the door was someone she cared for. Someone she had come to respect a great deal. The mere thought of hurting them was enough to make her stomach pitch and roll. But she bore down and straightened her spine, readying herself. Suck it up, she told herself; it’s the right thing to do.

Lifting her hand once more, she hesitated for the barest second before making herself knock. Three sharp raps, then silence. Not that she expected much noise; all the rooms were soundproofed. But still, it put her on edge; every second passing like an age. Then the sound of two soft clicks signalled the unlocking of the door and kicked Roxy’s nerves into overdrive.

The face that peered gingerly through the small gap was pale, anxiety etched so plainly that Roxy’s heart dropped. It looked like she’d raked her fingers through her hair numerous times so that it now looked flat and shiny; not the usual bright blonde sweep Roxy was used to seeing.

“Rox? Wh-what’re you doin’ here?”

Roxy swallowed, prayed she didn’t look as nervous as she felt, and shaped her mouth into a sympathetic smile, “Hi Michelle. Can I come in?”

There was a moment's hesitation and Roxy noticed her fingers gripping the wood a little harder, but she nodded and opened the door wider to let her through.

The small foyer just after the door opened out, showcasing a generous sitting room to the left and modern kitchen to the right. It oozed class but it was a warm welcome as she stepped in; creamy walls offset deep walnut beams and heavy drapes dressed the large windows along the left wall. Roxy picked up the subtle Highland influences in the plush soft furnishings and thought of Merlin with a smile. It still amazed her how well Kingsman could blend the old with the new and make it look utterly right in every way. Her eyes zeroed in on a bright green blanket and cuddly cat toy, both well-loved, sat on the matching armchair next to the sofa and she looked around for their owner.

“Where’s Daisy?”

Michelle moved towards the couch, absently grabbed the remote for the large TV on the wall and turned it off. It had been on a news channel, muted. “Asleep.” She used the remote to gesture towards another door on the other side of the room, this one left slightly ajar and spilling dimmed golden light into the room, “It’s late. Put her down a couple of hours ago.”

Roxy winced internally; shit, why hadn’t she checked the time? “Of course it is. Sorry. I’ve only just got back…”

She trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Her fingers itched to fiddle with the cuff of her shirt; a nervous habit that she’d been forced to break during training. The silence was uncomfortable, Michelle’s confused gaze heavy on her shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” Michelle said, exhaustion clear in her voice, “How did you know I was even here?”

Roxy sighed, “It’s… complicated.” It was a lame response but it was the only one she felt she could give. “I came to see if you were alright, if you needed anything.”

The answering laugh was devoid of any humor, arms lifting and falling in a defeated gesture, “Am I alright? You tell me, Rox, ‘cause I don’t know anymore. My son was kidnapped in broad daylight by men with fucking guns. They held one to my head…” Her voice broke as the memory of it came back, eyes wide and shiny with fear. “And they took him. Now I’m here - wherever here is - not knowing anythin’ and the only person who can help me is a man I last saw twenty-fucking-years ago when he told me my husband was dead!” Irritation had her throwing the remote to the sofa with guttural disgust, “So you tell me. Am I alright?”

“You’re safe-”

“Eggsy’s not!” The outburst was quick and sharp; anger now burning through the fear. “No-one’s told me nuthin’ since they brought me here 2 days ago - I want answers, I want to know what the hell is going on!”

Soft whimpers came from the other room in response to the raised voice. Michelle’s eyes slid shut on an oath, her whole body sagging. Without another word she reached out and picked up the stuffed cat, swiped quickly at her cheeks and headed towards the bedroom to settle her daughter.

Roxy didn’t move as the door clicked shut. It was a good 30 seconds after Michelle had disappeared when she let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. “Okay… that could have gone a lot worse…”

A memory, unbidden, surfaced in her mind; of herself as a ten-year-old, standing in the corner of the drawing room of her childhood home. Her mother’s red, blotchy face, ravaged by tears and unbridled rage as she spat insults at her father who was equally incensed and throwing papers and books and anything else that was to hand around the room. She’d been playing under the antique desk when their latest argument had bubbled over and destroyed her imaginations; she’d scrambled out quickly to the big armchair her Grandad had used to sit in, unconsciously using it for defensive cover, her small fingers curling into the plush fabric in sickening fear.

She shook her head sharply, pressed her fingers to her eyes. With a deep, steadying breath, she settled herself and spoke aloud to the empty room, “No, thank you. No trips down memory lane today. There’s enough going on without that.”

Roxy looked around the sitting room in an effort to find something to keep her busy, but that was a bust. There was nothing there except the furniture - clean and dust-free. So, after neatly folding Daisy’s favourite blanket, she did the only thing she could think of doing in a situation like this:

She made tea.

The countertops and cabinets were hand finished; thick slabs of polished marble made a U-shape that was large enough to be classed as a family size kitchen. Trinkets and mod-cons dotted the surfaces to make the room more inviting, three rows of pure white tiles added a clean backdrop. A matching set of jars, stylishly labelled in gold, sat neatly next to the deep sink, along with a couple of fine china mugs and a kettle. Roxy slipped off her jacket and tossed it over the breakfast counter that made one side of the kitchen and started the tea.

She was just putting the milk back into the cleverly disguised under-the-counter fridge when the bedroom door opened. Their eyes met for a second and Roxy drew up what she hoped was a reassuring smile and lifted a mug. “Made tea. It’s a good thing they keep these rooms well stocked.”

The mugs went on leather coasters that sat on the surface of the large wooden coffee table. Roxy sat at the far end of the sofa, adjusted the cushions and watched Michelle’s guarded expression as she joined her and accepted the tea. It was a good step forward, Roxy thought. The next one was going to be tricky.

Roxy rolled the words around her head as she sipped her tea. She had a lot of respect for Michelle Unwin. She couldn’t lie to her about what had happened, what was happening. Besides, it had gone beyond that now. Eggsy had sent them here to keep them safe and to raise the alarm. No amount of bullshit, no matter how well delivered, would placate a mother in fear for her son’s life.

She set her mug down on her knee and stared at it as she finally spoke, “Kingsman is a well established, prestigious Tailors and Suitmakers. The shop you saw is a legitimate tailors shop that has been there for well over a hundred years.” She paused, “It’s also a front for an International Intelligence Agency that operates outside of Government control.”

The words hung between them, precariously balanced on a knife edge. Her eyes flicked up and over to the other woman when her response wasn’t forthcoming. One, two, three slow blinks, then a slight narrowing of disbelieving eyes as comprehension sank in.

“...spies. You’re tellin’ me you’re… spies?”

Slowly, Roxy nodded, “Eggsy and I… we’re Kingsman Knights. Agents.”

Another pause, another blink. “Secret agents.”

Roxy nodded again. Waited. She watched the emotions cycle through her - disbelief, confusion, anger, fear. Then insult slid in. She leaned away from Roxy like she’d been slapped.

“Is this some sort of a joke? Spies?” She laughed, “Do you think I’m stupid or somethin’?”

It could have gone any number of ways, Roxy thought, but she wasn’t surprised by her reaction. Setting her mug down, she turned fully to face the other woman, “It’s not a joke. Since the early twentieth century, Kingsman has stood as a line of defense against a growing threat of war, violence, and greed. Agents - like Eggsy, like myself - do what we can to make the world a better, safer place.”

“What about… I dunno, MI5 or MI6 or whatever the hell it is?” Michelle shot out, gesturing vaguely with her hands, “That’s what they do, right?”

“Yes, and no.” Roxy answered, “Governments are tied to rules and protocol. Here, there’s no red tape.” She took a breath, decided on the best way to explain, and continued: “When a position becomes available here, current agents select and put forth prospective agents. Proposals.” A fond smile flickered over her lips briefly, “I was put forward for training by an old friend of my family, he’s kind of an Uncle to me. Eggsy… Eggsy was Harry's Proposal.”

“Harry?”

Tread carefully. “The man you met twenty years ago.”

“But why-...” She trailed off as it started to click, her frown sliding into shock, “Lee… you can’t be serious. Lee?”

“I don’t know all the details, but yes. Lee was in training to be a Kingsman Agent when he died during a mission. He saved Harry’s life. Eggsy was Harry’s Proposal because he felt he owed Lee for the life he’d given up to save him.”

Michelle set her mug down with a sharp snap on the coffee table, the tea sloshing over the side, “What? My husband dies for him and he returns the favour by doing the same to Eggsy?”

“It’s…” Roxy made a futile gesture with her hands, then let them fall to her lap with a frown, “This business… it sounds crazy, I know it does, but Eggsy was meant to be here. Harry saw his potential; the potential to apply himself and make a difference. He’s kind, generous, funny, and the most fiercely loyal person I have ever met.” She gave Michelle a lopsided smile, “Harry gave him the push he needed to re-make himself.”

Michelle sniffed, ran her hands over her face, “I tried, you know? I tried to give him the best I could after Lee but it was all I could do to keep the roof over our heads. When Dean came along I thought we’d get back on our feet but... Well, you know how that turned out.” She stared at the coffee table but Roxy doubted she was really seeing it. “I don’t believe this. Why didn’t he tell me?”

Roxy didn’t know if she meant Eggsy or Lee, but the answer was the same either way, “We can’t tell anyone. Not even loved ones.”

“But you’re tellin’ me, now!”

“You were there when he was kidnapped. He sent you here to keep you safe.” She lifted her shoulders, let them fall, “Seems stupid to lie to you.”

Michelle made a frustrated noise in her throat, shook her head, “But who took him, Rox? Why?”

“Complicated,” Roxy responded, but lifted her hand to stop the verbal slap she could see coming, “Sorry, sorry. The fact is I can’t tell you much; only that a recent mission didn’t go to plan and this is the fallout.”

“I just want to know he’ll be alright, that he’ll be home safe! Can you tell me that?!”

Roxy ached for her, wanted so badly to tell her that he’d be safe and sound and back home within the hour. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t give her that assurance because she had no idea herself if they’d even get him back alive, and the thought of that made her eyes burn. Leaning forward she took both of Michelle’s hands in her own, squeezed hard.

“Listen to me. Eggy’s scores on all the tests during Training out-stripped mine; he was top of the class in everything. He’s bloody smart and insanely resourceful and he’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive. We’re going to do everything we can to get him back. I promise you.”

They stayed like that, fixed, for what seemed like forever, until Michelle nodded. Tears shone in her eyes but she sniffed and blinked rapidly to keep them from falling down her cheeks. Roxy squeezed her hands once and then withdrew.

“I’d better get going.” She said gently, “You should get some rest.”

Her agreement was distracted and automatic. Roxy collected the mugs and moved them over to the sink, and suddenly her own exhaustion caught up with her. No surprise really; she hit debrief when she stepped off the plane from Ecuador and then came straight here after Merlin updated her. Rubbing her face briefly, she tried to calculate the amount of sleep she could squeeze in before getting back to the search for her missing partner. She could already imagine Merlin’s face when he saw her. Like he’d be getting any sleep himself, hypocritical shit. On a sigh she shook herself out of her thoughts and turned back to Michelle to wish her goodnight, only to find her still on the sofa, staring into space.

“‘Chelle?”

There was a delay, but the blonde’s head eventually popped up with a soft noise of acknowledgement, eyes refocusing on Roxy like she’d forgotten she was even there.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked tentatively.

There was a moment, a brief flicker of something that passed over Michelle’s face, but it was gone in an instant; confusion replaced with the weary resolve of someone entirely too used to shitty situations. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s just a lot, you know?” She gave Roxy a wan smile, “Thanks. For tellin’ me and everythin’”

“I’ll let you know the second we get something.”

She was two steps from the door when Michelle called out.

“Rox?”

She turned.

“This Harry… do you trust him?”

It was a loaded question. She knew why Michelle asked it - wouldn’t she ask the same if the tables were turned? Could she trust in the man who brought her life crashing down all those years ago? The man Roxy held in such high regard was the target for Michelle’s anger and bitterness - directly responsible for those years of pain and emotional turmoil. Now he held Eggsy’s life in his hands, just as he’d held Lee’s; was he going to let it carelessly slip through his fingers and burn the world Michelle had so painstakingly built to ashes?

“Yes,” she replied. “I do.”

Michelle seemed to search for something in her answer. Whether she found it or not, Roxy didn’t know, but after a moment she accepted it with a small nod and with that, Roxy bid her goodnight and let herself out.

Outside in the hallway, she slumped wearily against the closed door and tried her best to smother the guilt burning in her stomach. Her response had been honest; she did trust Harry, implicitly, but there was more at stake here than Eggsy’s life, no matter how much acknowledging that made her hurt inside. The longer The Chemist was at large the more dangerous he became. Now Roxy had met him, been on the receiving end of one of his cocktails, and had seen him for what he truly was; a charming facade that hid something dark and twisted and utterly terrifying.

Roxy knew two things for sure; Eggsy wasn’t going to come out of this unharmed, and Harry Hart would stop at nothing - nothing - to find him.

She prayed to whatever higher power was listening that they would find him alive.