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Harry was no stranger to hospital rooms. It was part and parcel of his job as a Kingsman Agent; inevitably there would come a time he woke up in a sterile environment that reeked of antiseptic and bleach. Like the time he was caught on the edge of the bomb blast he couldn’t quite avoid in South Korea, or the car accident he’d had in Russia while tracking down a volatile drug lord. There was that memorable occasion in India when he’d temporarily forgotten who he was and Merlin had had to fly out to retrieve him. He’d had a lot of making up to do after that incident. There were even certain situations Harry was not the one needing treatment, but rather the one making sure treatment was no longer necessary. Those were thankfully few and far between.
The Infirmary at the Kingsman Estate was more than a few steps up from the average hospital ward but it held the same basic principle. If you were sick or injured it was the best place to be but no-one wanted to find themselves here if they could help it. Harry usually tried his best to be out of the place as soon as humanly possible, which had earned him many a frustrated look from his Scottish friend over the years, but tonight was an altogether different story.
He’d folded himself into the semi-comfortable chair at Eggsy’s bedside two hours ago and hadn’t moved since. The young man in question was unnaturally still, covered by starched white sheets and connected to various different machines that measured signs of life. They beeped quietly as his chest rose and fell with each slow breath. Long, dark eyelashes contrasted heavily with the pallor of his cheeks, his lips pale and slightly parted.
Harry wanted to punch something.
“Ah. I wondered when you’d be back.”
He glanced at Merlin as the other man approached, speaking in hushed tones in deference to the sleeping occupants of the room. JB snored fitfully at the end of the bed, guarding Eggsy in the same manner as Roxy, who’d fallen asleep slumped over Eggsy’s left side in a horribly uncomfortable position that Harry knew she was going to regret later.
“How long has she been here?” He asked, nodding his head in the young woman’s direction.
“Long enough,” Merlin said, casting a fond eye over the two, “She had a meeting with Percival this afternoon and then an evening appointment with an Oil Tycoon we’ve been keeping an eye on. Came straight here after her debrief.”
Harry returned his gaze to the man on the bed. He could count only one occasion where he’d visited a hospital voluntarily and sat down at a bedside, and that was for his Mother nearly 20 years ago. He’d taken her flowers and spent the day with her, knowing it was going to be one of her last. Eggsy wasn’t dying and logically Harry knew that but he needed to be there to make sure anyway.
“You know this isn’t your fault.”
A small smile fluttered at the edges of his mouth for a second. Trust his oldest friend to know what was going on inside his mind. He spoke without taking his eyes off Eggsy. “I asked him to trust me, and he did, knowing that what he was going into would cause him pain. And all because we needed information from him.”
“Important information,” Merlin said, arching his eyebrows when Harry shot him a sharp look, “He was aware of the risks and the importance of the information he had locked in his mind. Jesus, Harry, the boy is a Kingsman now, he’s likely to be in worse scrapes than this.”
“That’s not the point,” Harry growled, “There’s a difference between being injured on the job and suffering prolonged consequences such as this.”
“I seem to recall you being just as testy when we reconnected to his feed that night and came face to face with him being “injured on the job”,” the other man parried, watching Harry carefully, “You’ll need to start trusting him if what I’m seeing between you two is going to go any further.”
Harry averted his eyes, swallowed. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“And you used to be a better liar, too,” Merlin replied with a small smirk, “You’re a fool, Harry Hart, if you thought you’d get that one past me.”
He knew better than to answer that. The truth was Harry didn’t know what was going on between them and the thought of it going further scared him shitless. Knowing how Eggsy felt about him - courtesy of Ms Morton’s covert recording - was one thing, but acting on it was an entirely different matter. Kissing him in the kitchen had been a mistake on his part because now he knew how he tasted, how he smelled of rumpled sheets and that tang of sweat and Harry wanted more. It wasn’t meant to go that far, he hadn’t meant to act on it at all; Eggsy was his proposal, his debt to be paid, the son of a fine man who’d given his life to save his own. That was as far as it should go; no more, no less.
Except…. except...
“Where’s the medic?” He asked, changing the subject to stop himself chasing that rabbit, “I haven’t seen him.”
“Is it any wonder?” Merlin muttered, pulling a clipboard from the bedside table beside Roxy and tapping across the screen, presumably checking on Eggsy’s stats. When Harry didn’t answer he looked up with an amused expression, “You threatened to tear the poor boy apart, it’s a miracle he hasn’t quit.”
Harry’s jaw twitched. He had, that was true, but his reaction hadn’t been entirely unfounded. He looked over Eggsy again, watching the rise and fall of his chest. “He was screaming,” Harry said softly.
Spitting words out through gritted teeth (glasses, sick fuck, car, flight), fingers biting viciously into Harry’s arm. Hot damp skin under Harry’s hands and shoulders tense and hunched against the pain, rocking with it, riding it out, doing his best to stay sane. Then the screaming, then the arching, then the fingers scrabbling against his head, pulling at his hair, digging furrows into his scalp, and Harry unable to do anything but hold on to the bucking, contorting mess of the boy in his arms to keep him doing serious damage to himself.
“Sedate him, now!”
“But… but Sir, we don’t know how he’d react to-”
“Fucking sedate him or I’ll tear your fucking arms off.”
He could feel the impotent rage boiling inside him even now. When the young man went under and he slumped heavily in his arms, Harry had held him there for a moment, stroking a soothing hand through his hair, letting the sudden silence of the room wash over him. Then he’d carefully lowered him to the bed and told Merlin to take care of him before leaving the Infirmary all together. His hand twitched, clenching slowly and releasing; he found Eggsy’s manner of redirecting anger to a suitable outlet like a punching bag didn’t quite have the same effect as plowing his fist into someone’s face.
So lost in thought, he didn’t notice that Merlin had walked around to his side of the bed until the man lay a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up, meeting warm eyes. “Get some rest, Harry.” He said, nodding his head in Eggsy’s direction, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
With a weary sigh, Harry conceded. He smoothed himself down as he stood, as was his habit, and took one more look at Eggsy. Giving in to temptation, he reached over and gently pushed back a few wayward strands of light hair, his thumb stroking softly across his temple. When he pulled back, Merlin was dutifully scrolling through his data pad, minding his own business, and Harry let him continue the charade until he reached the door.
“I want you to review all current missions,” He said slowly, turning enough to look the other man dead in the eye. He wasn't Harry now. He was Arthur. “Wrap up any low levels and pull in whatever resources we have. From now on, The Chemist is our number one priority.” He threw one last glance to the still figure on the bed, his rage turning his words to steel, “I’m going to find the fucking bastard and put him down. Once and for all.”
With that promise, he swept through the Infirmary room doors and left Merlin staring after him.