Chapter Text
It's funny how just twelve hours before, the two of them were eating ice cream cones and strolling around London, the picture of idle romance.
And now Roxy is shaking at the top of a skyscraper, trying her very best not to feel Eggsy's blood soaking into her gloves as she holds pressure on a wound.
It hasn't hit anything vital, at least. Eggsy's still conscious and joking around, more for her sake than his, she knows. The humor isn't really making her feel any better, though, because her partner still has a hole in him and his blood is still staining her fingers and where is the fucking helicopter, Merlin?
"It's alright, Rox. I've had worse, y'know." Her fingers tighten and then release quickly as he lets out a grunt at the pain.
"Shut up, Eggsy, and please focus on not bleeding out, alright?"
"Roxy…" He squirms and tries to sit up, only to be pushed firmly back down.
"No, no, no, don't you dare move, Galahad." Roxy's nerves are frayed to shreds, her suit is torn, and her best friend and lover and teammate is bleeding under her hands.
It's been a long night. Roxy's certainly feeling it, and it must show on her face because Eggsy whines and tries to shift again.
"Don’t. Move." She has to bite back a scream. He flops back with a sigh.
"Then you come down here." His voice is soft but challenging, making Roxy wish nothing more than they were curled up in bed together and not stranded post-mission on the top of a very tall building with no railings.
She still bends down to kiss him, being extremely careful not to lose pressure on the wound. His neck cranes up into the kiss, but otherwise Eggsy stays still, which Roxy is grateful for. For a few heartbeats, she feels a bit better.
Roxy breaks away when she hears chopper blades descend near them. There's no way Eggsy doesn't notice it, but he still makes a petulant noise when she draws back. Her nose lets out an ungentlewomanly snort at his expression.
"Ride's here, Eggs." He doesn't say anything more, just lets the paramedics load him onto a stretcher and out of earshot.
Roxy follows, deafened by the chopper's blades and blinded by its lights. Another successful mission, she thinks bitterly.
(And then chastises herself, because what they did tonight was more important than either of them, really. She just wishes that Eggsy hadn't been shot.)
"Go home, Rox-Rox."
Roxy frowns, because no one should sound that smarmy and insufferable when they're being wheeled into an operation room.
"Eggsy…"
He lets out a long-suffering groan. "I'll live, Roxy. Get a move on, will ya?"
Sighing, Roxy turns and walks away long enough for Eggsy to be moved behind a closed door, and then turns right back around to seat herself in one of the waiting chairs. She knows from experience that the doctors won't let her in until he's out of operating.
Curling up in the chair, Roxy closes her eyes and tries not to think about dying.
She creeps stealthily to his room, glancing around to make sure that no overbearing nurses are near to ward her off. Seeing none, Roxy slips inside.
Eggsy's hooked up to a beeping heart monitor, but the unevenness of the blips alert Roxy to the fact that he's still awake. Emboldened, she moves forward to his bed.
As she comes to his side, Eggsy turns and smiles at her.
(Roxy'll never admit how reassuring that smile is, but she's pretty sure he knows anyways.)
"Did they stitch you up, Eggs?" Her fingers come to sweep down the curve of his cheek, thumb rubbing over a scar gracing his jaw. His head tilts into her touch, turning so that his mouth kisses her palm. Roxy shivers.
"Should've gone home, luv."
"I should've done a lot of things." she says. Eggsy looks up at her sadly, expression turning into an exaggerated pout that makes her chuckle and swat his shoulder. He grins and pulls at her arm, gingerly tugging her into the cot besides him. Carefully, so carefully. Avoiding the gauze on his torso, he manages to wrap an arm around her, snuggling her into his uninjured side, lips pressing into the crown of her head.
"It wasn't your fault, Rox." he insists. She exhales heavily, shutting her eyes.
He's wrong, of course. If she had been faster on the drop, warned him a little sooner, taken down her target faster, maybe she would have stopped it. Roxy knows without a doubt that 'what she should have done' will haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.
It doesn't matter. Eggsy's alive, breathing in her arms, heart thumping steadily against her. Roxy holds on a little tighter and promises to do better next time.
"Thanks, Eggsy."