pomegranatepusher:

“Why the fuck’s he in there?” Eggsy asks, pushing past Tequila, towards the two way mirror. Emotions rush through him, faster than he can identify them.

Harry Hart is alive.

And he’s being held like some kind of prisoner.

“He’s dangerous,” Tequila replies bluntly.

Then, all Eggsy feels is anger. “Fuck that, I want to see ‘im,” he glares at Tequila defiantly and crosses his arms.

“Galahad,” Merlin warns sharply.

“What?” Eggsy rounds on him. “They–” he points an accusing finger at Tequila “–been keepin’ him here, locked up like he’s in a fuckin’ zoo. We mourned him, Merlin.” Eggsy turns back to Tequila. “I want to see him,” he says, cold and precise.

The Statesman looks at him sympathetically. “Kid… he doesn’t remember anything.”

Eggsy staggers back. “What?”

“He doesn’t even remember his own name,” Tequila continues. “And he doesn’t react kindly to visitors. That’s why we got ‘im here.”

Eggsy seems to deflate. “Fuck,” he whispers.

Tequila claps him on the shoulder. Merlin is strangely silent.

“I still wanna see ‘im,” Eggsy says. It comes out far more broken-sounding than he’d hoped it would.

“’Course, kid, just make sure you prepare yourself. That ain’t the man you knew in there.”

Ginger steps in, as if on queue. “This way, please,” she says softly. She leads Eggsy around to a door. “Right through there.”

He takes a steeling breath and opens the door.

“Harry,” he breathes, unable to keep the name from tumbling from his lips.

The man looks up at him, and there’s not a hint of recognition in his eyes. “And who might you be?” He asks, voice cold and achingly familiar.

Eggsy’s heart breaks all over again.

He can’t. He can’t.

He pastes on a watery, unconvincing smile and holds out his hand. “My name is Galahad,” he says, and his voice only shakes a little.

Harry warily takes the extended hand in his own, and then something in his expression shifts. His grasp firms.

“Still haven’t learned to knock, then, have you, Eggsy.”

…

“I don’t remember everything, but I remember you.”