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Nothing Ever Lasts Forever

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       Eggsy had thought quite a bit about how he might die.

       As a kid, it was all sorts of things. Drowning in the pool, choking on his cereal, running with scissors, all seemed of equal likelihood and little concern.

       After his Dad died, and Dean had drunk his way into his Mum’s heart, Eggsy’s eminent doom became a fair amount darker. Overdose, freak parkour accident, Dean and his goons, each was its own type of gruesome, and everyday at least one of them felt closer and closer to becoming a reality.

       Then he’d become a Kingsman, and, well, surely the super-spy position would come with an interesting demise, right? Maybe he’d go out protecting a princess, or get mauled by a robo-dog, or blown up in some spectacular world-saving display. He’d seen it happen enough to be certain that when he went, it’d be on a mission, blaze of glory and all that.

       For all his imagining, Eggsy never really pictured this.

       Kingsman’s annual holiday party was likely in full swing by now, members of every branch gathering at HQ for the celebration of the year. While some chose to retain their dignity amongst their colleagues, and a few alternated staying sober in case of emergency, most attendees got utterly smashed, and Eggsy had had every intention of being one of them. He’d shot off a text to Roxy that he would be late, finished up his admittedly last-minute gift shopping, and started off towards the manor.

       And then some drunk guy had stumbled into the road, beer in one hand and toddler in the other, and Eggsy fucking swerved.

       He couldn’t say for certain what happened between jerking the wheel and finding the world inverted, wasn’t even sure if he’d managed to avoiding hitting the man and his kid, but he could soundly say he wasn’t making it to HQ tonight.

       If the steady drip of red past his vision and utter lack of feeling everywhere was anything to go by, Eggsy was pretty sure he wasn’t even going to make it out of the freshly wrecked car. Not as anything more than a corpse, at least.

       There was no way of knowing if any witnesses had called the authorities, or if there were any passerby to see him crash in the first place. His Mum wasn’t expecting him. Rox and the others would simply think his shopping took longer than expected. He’d chosen to drive himself in his own car as opposed to having a driver and a Kingsman vehicle, something he was actually grateful for considering his current position. His glasses were no longer on his head (hadn’t been transmitting, either) and his phone got flung god knows where, not that his limbs were cooperating enough for the device to be useful either way.

       Taking a ragged breath, Eggsy tried to focus on anything other than the overwhelming exhaustion sweeping through his being, but between the fog in his mind and the increasing haziness of his vision, the task proved harder than it should. Hell, even just breathing was harder than it should’ve been.

       Shit. He wasn’t making it out of this.

       His Mum will be crushed. Daisy, bless her, will cry some, then move on. Kids were resilient, and she was still too young to fully grasp the concept of death. He hoped Kingsman would keep an eye on them, lend a hand if they needed it. Rox and Harry definitely would.

       Rox. He hopes she wouldn’t find a way to blame herself. He’d have to trust Harry and Merlin to talk her out of it, possibly themselves, too. But in the end, they’d be just fine. Merlin would have a drink. Harry would probably hit something, or several somethings. He wasn’t sure if there’d be a toast or not, didn’t know what protocol was when an agent died outside of the field. He wondered about who his replacement would be.

       Maybe the next Galahad would be a lady? It would be nice if it was, Lancelot would surely appreciate a fellow female agent. But would they be like him? Someone plucked from the average side of things? Or would they be another Charlie Hesketh or Chester King? With any luck it wouldn’t be. Kingsman had enough posh bastards amongst it’s ranks, that was for sure.

       It was getting harder to stay awake now. He tried counting but couldn’t figure out what came after three. The steering wheel wasn’t even in focus anymore. He felt no cold, no pain. The distant sirens had as much a chance of being his imagination as they did being real.

       The world would be okay. Kingsman would be okay. His family would be okay.

       Eggsy let his eyes fall shut.

       He wished he would’ve told Harry.