DOSSIER: HART, H / GALAHAD ( galahcd )
“ and i don’t do any of this for my health. “ god knows how many years its shaved off this new lease of life that he has, in the split-second he realizes to his utter horror that merlin wasn’t close on his coattails. the weeks that ensued introduced perils that were new, painfully FRESH to have to endure, when it was no longer so much merlin that he saw crippled to hell like some perverted rag-doll, but hamish. time felt to be fleeting then, moving ever quicker when the doctors did come barging through with talk of critical-level-this and five-cc’s-of-that. the knots to his shoulders, the very same ones corded in through his back, bore such incredible tension before they waved the man through with stable vitals and an all-clear.
they say that there lay an innate thrill in taunting while being taunted— an appeal to the chase. when devised between martini glasses and hor d'orves, that was true; there was an almost perceptibly childlike quality to it, belying lethal motives should one loose their footing somewhere along the way. but to not only be taunted but OUTRIGHT PLAYED and having his nose buried in the thick of it, now that earned measurable ire where deserved. it wasn’t meant to turn out in the way that it has. they were to see this through, eggsy, merlin and himself. causalities were not a part of a carefully weighted and considered equation.
harry doesn’t mourn for what had transpired; PISSED OFF, on the other hand—
rubbing the etched sides of crystal by the pads of his fingers, a delicate motion that has it turning in the amber yellow of the workroom’s glow, he averts his gaze. “—we got off lucky, hamish.”
“ I did my job. ” The smile is quick; a fleeting thing that’s gone just as fast as it appears. The Kingsman agent’s suits were the modern armour after all, and he had taken pride in the careful synchronous relationship between bespoke’s textile fibres and the fine thread alloys developed to absorb upon impact. That was what had saved him, what had shielded body from the full force of impact that could have taken more than just two limbs. But even with this known in the back of his head --- that sheer possibility in statistical minority; the four point six seven chance was not something he had clung to in hope.
More than willing, for cause and for those he loved --- he was willing to die.
Of course, this remained an unspoken thing; where there was little want to make those around him worry. Let them have this semblance of a perfect world, let them believe in the immortality of Merlin and keep permanence in the thought that he will live, that he will survive. Not only because he was Merlin --- but because he was Hamish. A soldier first, born into battle and bearing the weight of worldly ideals upon his back. The tenet repeats, recited in his head like a tenet: mission first.
“ We can’t remain here, stuck in the past and in the what ifs. ”
He knows Harry knows this.
“ We live with it, we move on, Harry. As much as we struggle with it. We can’t change what’s happened. ”
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