ashortdropandasuddenstop

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

"Cross my heart and all that" Lancelot exhaled slowly through his nose, the distant ringing of the blast still thrumming in his ears. Gazelle was gone in a blur, like a bullet fired in the direction of danger. Of course she ran straight toward it. Part of him respected it. The other part was already calculating the optics.

He adjusted his jacket, expression shifting into one of focused calm. Then he moved—not with Gazelle’s supernatural speed, but with the practiced efficiency of someone who’d done this kind of work long before his second chance at life. He scanned for the source of the explosion—smoke, structural damage, cries for help. Was it just property damage, or were lives at stake?

A security feed monitor in his glasses blinked alive, data trickling in. No direct line to Vought, but it seemed someone was still watching. Fine. Let them.

He moved fast, steering civilians away from danger, locking down exits with a few quick override taps on a side console, and even helping lift debris off a pinned guard. He never drew a weapon—never needed to. This wasn’t about killing. This was about control, optics, precision.

Let that woman be the unstoppable force. I’ll be the clean-up crew.

Still, even as he worked, he couldn’t shake the feeling… this was too neat. Too perfectly timed. And he had been right there, front and center when it happened.

The tension between them had cleared just in time for some new trouble to get started. Gazelle's body tensed, ready for action. She glanced at him. It felt too coincidental, but there were more important things to focus on. Besides if he did have a part in whatever was happening, she could always hunt him down later.

"You had better hope you are not a part of this." She looked around the room. "Either help or get out of the way."

With that final statement, the vampire was running into the danger. Her family could be in trouble. She had to make sure it was taken care of.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

A little with a light scoff, a half-smile curling on his lips. “I see. You mean as a former commodore-turned-pirate, roped into questionable raids, sharing a ship with a crew of misfits, and subject to the constant drama of your impulsive decisions?” He gave Killian a pointed look, amused, even as he leaned back against the desk. “What’s not to enjoy?”

But then he caught it—the way Killian looked at him. The nerves, the hesitation, the way his eyes held something unspoken behind the teasing smile. And slowly, James’ smile faded into something quieter. Softer. "Killian.." James softened too.

“…At first,” James said, his voice low, steady, “no. I absolutely abhorred it. I hated what it meant. That I was no longer the man I’d spent my entire life trying to be. I told myself I was different from your kind… but the truth is, I was clinging to a lie. I've stolen. Fought. Lied. I’m guilty of as much as any of them.” He exhaled slowly and stepped in closer again, gaze dropping briefly before rising to meet Killian’s. “But being here with you… you made it bearable. Worthwhile, even. I don’t think I’d have lasted a week if it weren’t for you.”

A pause. His voice dipped, more intimate now.

“So yes. I’m enjoying it here. With you. More than I ever expected to.” He slides his arms around the Captain, as he often did when they were alone.

@heartthrobxhook "You and I would make a great team."

James looked up slowly from the map, his brow furrowed not from confusion, but because that damn line always stirred something in his chest. Months aboard the Jolly Roger had worn down the walls he built, both emotional and professional. They’d fought side-by-side against storms and sea monsters, and in quiet moments, they'd shared touches that lingered too long, kisses that started in stolen shadows and ended in tangled sheets. But neither of them had said what it really meant — not out loud.

"A great team?" James repeated dryly, a smirk curling on his lips as he rolled up the map and stepped closer. “You mean when you’re not trying to steal my boots or ‘accidentally’ locking me in your quarters so that I may have my way with you?” His voice dropped just enough to remind Killian of last night — and the night before that. But still, he didn’t pull away. In fact, he stopped only a breath away, eyes searching the pirate’s face.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Jamie’s cheeks flushed before he could stop them. Bollocks. Of course Eddie caught the look—Eddie caught everything. Jamie tore his gaze away, throat tightening in protest. He wasn’t checking him out. He was… evaluating. Right. Definitely not checking him out. Or at least he told himself. Of course that kiss he planted on Eddie came to mind. He chose not to bring it up.

"Thought I’d try a more legitimate line of work and see how I got on. What’s the verdict then? Would you subscribe?" Eddie teased, brows waggling.

Jamie rolled his eyes so hard they nearly stuck. Still, a begrudging twitch of his mouth betrayed him. Bastard knew his humour was a weakness. “Perhaps if you offered a senior discount,” he muttered under his breath.

Eddie had headed to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and rummaging around for painkillers. He returned to the bed, handing them over with a casual ease.

Though when called sleeping beauty, Jamie shot him a sharp look, but it lacked real venom. Twelve hours, huh? No wonder his throat felt like sandpaper and his body like it had been through a war.

Grimacing, he swallowed the pills, rasping out, “Could’ve given me a gentler wake-up call. Like, ..oh..I don’t know, NOT cutting off my airway?” But the bite in his voice was dulled, more habit than fury.

Though when Eddie just shrugged off the glares Jamie gave him, the smirk never quite leaving his face, Jamie looked away, teeth grinding slightly. That annoying feeling again, what was that and why did his face feel so hot? Eddie knew him too well. Knew he wouldn’t be able to stay angry, not for long. And damn him, part of Jamie felt safe here. Wanted to stay here. He hated that feeling—but he hated even more how much he didn’t hate Eddie right now. He was relieved!

Then, with a sudden gentleness that made Jamie’s chest tighten, Eddie reached out. His fingers tilted Jamie’s head up, the other hand featherlight as it brushed the bruised skin of Jamie’s neck.

Jamie’s breath hitched. That gentle touch hurt worse than the bruises. It was so unlike Eddie’s usual bravado it undid him more than he liked. “Not the.. first bruise you’ve given me,” Jamie said hoarsely, the faintest ghost of a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. No heat. Something else. Something almost like comfort.

When asked if he was alright, Jamie’s first instinct was to snap back, to armor up. But when he met Eddie’s gaze, saw nothing but raw concern, something inside him buckled. He looked away, nodding once, voice rough. “I don’t know. But… I’m not dead today. That’s something, isnt it?”

Jamie flinched at the word. Everything. "I didn’t tell you that so you could play hero," he muttered. "Didn’t mean for it to become your problem."

But despite the words, he didn’t move away. Couldn’t. Maybe, deep down, he didn’t want to be alone with the weight of it anymore. Jamie finally looked around the cabin properly, really saw it. Small. Quiet. Remote. Safe. The walls seemed to hum softly, a heartbeat separate from the world they’d left behind.

As much as he hated to admit it, the silence of the place was doing something good for him. He wasn’t sure if it was peace or shock-induced numbness, but his shoulders felt less tight, and his head—though pounding—wasn’t spiraling. That counted for something.

"You've a weird notion of a holiday," he muttered. "But I guess I could do worse." Jamie let out a slow, shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Maybe he could let his guard down. A little.

This time, Jamie didn’t look away. He met Eddie’s eyes, searching—half afraid he'd find mockery or lies—but there was only Eddie. Stupid, loyal, bullheaded Eddie. The one who always jumped into fires if Jamie was near one.

A hesitant cracked smile curved Jamie’s lips. "Next time you want to plan a getaway, just bloody ask."

The shower had been divine. Just what he needed to refresh after everything that had happened. It was like he’d washed it away, the shock and awe. The horror, and could now focus on the present and what mattered. Jamie was safe for now. The safehouse wasn’t known to anyone but Eddie. It ought to buy them some time to think up another plan. But also give Jamie a much needed break. Time to relax and rest. To attempt to heal both physically and mentally.

Stepping out the shower, Eddie dried himself quickly before wrapping the towel around his waist. His hair was all tousled and a mess, but he left it be as he headed back out into the main room. His brows rose slightly as he saw that Jamie was sitting up on the bed. Eddie just stared, watching the way Jamie looked at him. He noticed. Noticed those eyes shifting, wandering over him, taking him in. Which earned a rather smug smirk.

“Thought I’d try a more legitimate like of work and see how I got on. What’s the verdict then, would you subscribe?” That smirk only grew as brows wiggled slightly, teasing. It felt good to joke again, for it to just be them. No facades. As Jamie coughed, Eddie headed over to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, then rummaged around for some painkillers. He headed over to the bed and stood before Jamie, handing over the water and pills. “I think you’ve slept plenty, Sleeping Beauty. I was starting to worry I’d choked you out a bit too hard.” He replied before moving to sit down next to him.

Eddie just shrugged off the looks Jamie gave him, finding it rather adorable how hard he was trying to hate him…and failing. The blushing was just the icing on the cake. “You’ve been out for a little over 12 hours. Definitely seems like someone needed his rest. You’re welcome, mate.” He teased with a tight smile, then nodded to the bottle and pills. “Get them down you. We’ve got plenty of supplies, food if you’re hungry. Main thing right now is taking it easy and drinking to settle that throat of yours.”

Despite the fact that it was his fault, Eddie was casual about the whole thing as well as the whole kidnapping his best mate thing. He had no regrets and he made that clear with just how laid back he was. It was his turn for a wandering gaze. Blue eyes searched over Jamie’s chin and jaw, one hand reaching out to gently tilt his head up while he used the other to lightly graze fingertips over Jamie’s neck. His touch was far more different than before. Gentle, soft. Featherlight, as he examined Jamie closely. “You’ve got some bruising. Sorry about that.” He mused before dropping his hands. “Hopefully the painkillers kick in soon to ease all those aches and pains in your old bones.”

Eddie’s gaze lingered, his expression softening into one of concern and worry. He frowned and swallowed. “You okay?” He asked, his tone gentle and quiet. Yet the look in his eyes expressed true care. Jamie’s wellbeing was important and Eddie hoped he knew that and understood why he did what he did. There was guilt in those eyes as Eddie sighed deeply and ran a hand through his damp hair.

“You can be mad at me and hate me all you want, Jamie. But I don’t regret what I did. I did what I had to do. You surely must’ve known I wasn’t going to just leave you there. Not like that. Not after telling me…everything.” The last thing Eddie wanted to do was keep talking about that. The less it was mentioned, the better. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, miles from any form of civilisation. No one knows about this place but me. I figured it’ll buy us some time to lay low for a while, for you to rest, and for us to figure out a plan. Think of it as that holiday you’ve been wanting for fuck knows how many years.”

Eddie hoped Jamie would be okay with this. He needed the rest, the break from everything. It would help his recovery. “It’s just us, mate. Us in the middle of the woods with birds and a lake for company. Might be just what you need.” He said with a shrug before glancing around. “This place isn’t much, but it’s comfy and warm enough at least. Make yourself at home, alright?” All Eddie wanted was to make sure Jamie was okay. That he was safe and content. There were no ill intentions, no schemes or plots. Nothing like that. Eddie was just him, just Eddie. Looking out for Jamie like he always did.

“Y’know…back in the day, when I used to picture us taking a road trip somewhere, I didn’t think I’d have to choke you out to get you to come with me. That was unexpected. But then again, you’ve always been a stubborn bastard.” Eddie snickered and reached out once more. Only this time his palm rested against Jamie’s cheek. “You’re okay. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, alright? Not this time. We stick together.”

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Lancelot was limp in his arms as he was carried bridal style to the vehicle. He did not wake the entire trip. His body needed to recover. He may have stirred slightly when they'd stopped for gasoline, but aside from a momentary shift, he was still out cold.

The fire crackled.

It was the first sound Jamie could hear through the dense fog in his mind, muffled and strange. It pulled at something in him—something old. Cold stone walls. Bleached white lights. The stink of antiseptic and iron.

He was dreaming.

No, reliving.

His limbs wouldn’t move. His chest wouldn’t rise. He was back on the table—stripped bare beneath harsh, buzzing lights. His throat was raw from the tube they'd only just pulled out, and his body trembled with chemical confusion. Pain laced every nerve, white-hot and wrong, and in the corner, machines beeped and clicked in sterile rhythm while figures in lab coats spoke in low, clinical tones. His heart, his stomach, his co--- well his everything burned where it was being held together.

They were talking about him. Not to him. About how long he’d last. About the way he’d died. About how well the serum had worked.

Jamie wanted to scream, to beg them to stop, but all he could do was feel—the burning, the way the nano-sutures bit into him as they put him back together like a puzzle no one should’ve touched.

He whimpered in his sleep, shifting beneath heavy blankets that didn’t quite banish the ghost of surgical steel and the stink of formaldehyde.

Another sound. Water. Running water.

The dream broke. Shattered. And for a moment, he didn’t know what was real—only that the cold sweat on his skin was very real, and so was the jackhammer behind his eyes. His head throbbed with a brutal ache, like someone had taken a crowbar to the inside of his skull. Every breath scraped dry and rough through his throat. His ribs felt bruised, jaw sore, shoulders tight like he’d been in a fight.

Because he had been.

He blinked, once. The ceiling above him wasn’t sterile white—it was wood. Dark beams. A cabin?

His limbs were leaden, weak, but he pushed himself upright slowly, trying to piece together the last thing he remembered. Gawain. The facility. Arguing. And then—

Eddie.

His pulse spiked.

The bastard had choked him out.

Jamie’s heart thudded loud in his chest as he whipped his head toward the sound of the water—and immediately regretted it. The room tilted violently and he nearly collapsed back against the pillows. He clung to the blanket like a lifeline as dark spots flickered in his vision.

And then, from the doorway, Eddie appeared.

Towel slung low on his hips, hair still damp and dripping down his neck, arms slick and bare save for the tattoos that twisted like vines over sinew and muscle. He looked… calm. Like he hadn’t just betrayed his best mate, knocked him out, and dragged him across the damn country.

Jamie blinked again, slower this time, heat flaring up his neck. The anger was right there—so easy to reach for—but it was tangled now with something inconvenient and deeply annoying. His eyes dropped to Eddie’s arms again, tracing the ink over the curves of impressive muscles, then snapped back up to his face.

“…Well,” Jamie croaked, voice hoarse and dry, “Aren’t you just the bloody cover model for Off-Grid Lumberjacks Monthly?”

He coughed, then hissed, pressing a hand to his aching head. “Christ. You trying to kill me or just make sure I never sleep again?”

He tried to glare. Really, he did. But it came out watery and weak—and Eddie’s face, whether smug or concerned, wasn’t helping him hold onto the fury. The blush had to be from fury.....right?

It broke him to do this. To watch and feel Jamie’s struggle. It killed him inside. He hated it. He didn’t want it to come to this, but Eddie was left with no choice. He wanted, needed to protect the one person he cared about. The one person he trusted. The one person he had left. He couldn’t lose Jamie. Not a second time.

His eyes watered, tears running down his cheeks as he held on. He didn’t even feel the scratches of his skin or the rough elbows and kicks. He was too focused on knocking Jamie out without killing him. Plus, Eddie deserved it all. All the pain, everything Jamie gave him. He deserved it, and he’d take it. So long as his friend, his family was safe.

He hadn’t expected this long of a fight. Eddie was actually surprised by how long Jamie lasted. Then again, both of them had been trained for this and would normally know how to escape. If they were against anyone else, they would’ve. Easily. But against each other, when so evenly matched? There was no chance.

As he felt Jamie begin to lose strength, Eddie didn’t let go but tried to sooth him through it. “That’s it. Just let go…sleep. Get some rest. Please…” He muttered, hating every single second of this. He’d apologise when Jamie woke up, offer an explanation. He’d face Jamie’s wrath later, but for now all he cared about was getting Jamie to safety. They didn’t have much time either. Gawain could wake up at any moment. They needed to be gone before then.

Finally…

Finally, Jamie lost consciousness. The moment he did, Eddie eased his hold yet kept his arms around so Jamie wouldn’t fall. “I got you. You’re okay, mate.” He whispered, shifting slightly to carry Jamie in his arms. He held him close, letting the Brit rest against him and sleep. He hoped this had been enough to knock him out for a while, or at least until they were travelling and it was too late to turn back. Eddie carried Jamie out of the house, leaving Gawain behind. He continued to walk down a secluded and dark path that led from the house to the main road where Eddie’s truck was parked.

He carefully placed Jamie in the passenger seat and buckled him in, making sure he was in a comfortable position for the long road ahead. Eddie then got changed into clean, casual clothes before climbing into the drivers seat. He turned on the engine and glanced over at Jamie who was peacefully asleep. Eddie let out a deep breath. “Let’s get you someplace safe, mate.” He whispered before placing his foot on the gas.

It was time for a little road trip.

——————-

12 Hours later

The drive was quiet, peaceful. Just Eddie and Jamie out on the open road. They drove through the night and into early morning, only stopping once so Eddie could refuel on gas. If anyone noticed the truck, they’d just see Jamie sleeping and think nothing of it. Just two men out for a long drive, that was all. No questions asked, nothing suspicious. Eddie had grabbed some food and drink for later and stored them in the truck before continuing the drive.

They were headed to nowhere. A place off grid and quiet, a piece of land and a small cabin that Eddie owned. A safehouse to lay low in till they figured out a proper plan. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it would do for now. It took another couple hours before Eddie finally arrived, parking the truck just outside the cabin. It was surrounded by forrest with a small lake nearby. Secluded, peaceful. Quite beautiful in its own right. No other folks around for miles. It would just be the two of them.

Eddie glanced over at Jamie who was still out cold, yet his breathing had remained slow and steady. Good. He needed the rest. Climbing out the truck, Eddie grabbed the keys and headed for the cabin, opening the door. The place was freezing, not having been used in a long time. Yet there was a log pile inside that he’d prepped last time he was here. It was enough to get a fire going.

Eddie spent the next while getting the cabin organised and warm enough. He’d unloaded the food and drink, storing it safely for Jamie waking up. The fire was cackling away and had quickly warmed up the place, making it quite cozy and comfortable. Then and only then did Eddie move Jamie from the truck. He carefully unbuckled the seatbelt and scooped him up, carrying him inside to the bed. He gently set Jamie down, throwing blankets on top of him. He watched him for a few lingering moments, hesitating before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of Jamie’s head.

With everything sorted inside, Eddie then made sure outside was secure and locked up tight. Only when he was satisfied did he allow himself some downtime. While Jamie rested, Eddie went for a shower to freshen up after the long drive, sighing deeply as the warm water battered and soothed his aching muscles. He was exhausted, though refused to rest until he knew Jamie was alright. They needed to talk, after all.

Eddie would be unaware that Jamie was slowly shifting and stirring awake, the sound of the shower and cracking fire being what he’d be greeted with…before a half naked, dripping wet Eddie appeared, that is.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

James watches the blackout shades descend in absolute silence, green eyes flicking upward as the room slips into darkness—safe darkness. The vampire’s chest rises and falls slowly against Roman’s back, not from the need to breathe but from something else entirely. Something tender. Something aching.

He realizes what Roman just did for him.

That small, practical gesture—without any demands, without any conditions—means more than the boldest of declarations. And James, centuries old, who’s learned to read the nuance in every offered hand and every hidden blade, recognizes the hope behind that little remote click. The kind that says please stay, even if the mouth won’t voice it.

He doesn’t speak right away, just leans in and brushes a kiss behind Roman’s ear. Then he murmurs, voice barely more than breath:

"That was… touching." A pause, and his arms curl tighter around Roman’s waist, anchoring him there. "And I'm thinking about it. Just so you know."

A heartbeat passes, and James shifts again, rolling them gently so Roman is tucked into his chest now, cradled and warm, even with the chill of his undead body. He strokes a few damp strands of hair back from Roman’s forehead and lowers his head to press a kiss there too.

"You need rest," he whispers. "You gave me blood, and your body. That takes its toll. Let me return the favor."

A gentle shimmer glows faintly in his gaze then, the telltale signs of glamour weaving through the air like invisible silk, coaxing Roman’s overworked mind toward slumber. "Sleep, my dear Roman," he coos hypnotically, voice velvet.

James waits for Roman’s lashes to flutter closed, as his body slowly slacken in his arms. Even then, he holds him a while longer, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing.

And in the hush of that moment, James makes his decision.

˚　.˚　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　🔪 He's glad when James doesn't seem to pull away from him. Soft sigh of relief -- more so when he says he'll stay. But only until dawn. And he's reminded of what he is -- so what they say about vampires and the sun must be true.

A beat. And he turns slightly to reach for a remote on side table, pressing the button for black out shades to come down over windows. "I have these in here --" Remotes set down with that as he turns back toward James with a wistful look in his eyes.

But there's a part of him that feel that was all far too desperate so head turns away slightly. "Not that you have to stay longer." Said with a shrug, like he didn't care either way despite it being clear what showing him it was at least safe in here while the sun was out meant. The club didn't have windows either now that he thought about it. He just had to avoid living area of the apartment.

Why is he thinking about this so deeply?

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

“You’re right, it never stopped me,” Jack had said, with that damn chuckle — weaker than usual, but still him. Still insufferably, incorrigibly Jack Sparrow.

James let the quiet linger, let Jack's words hang there — the ones about his crew, about a grand escape, about him helping. Madness. He should’ve corrected him. But instead, all he found himself doing was watching him. Watching his face relax by degrees, the way the pain seemed to recede like the tide, leaving something more vulnerable beneath.

James didn’t move when Jack took his hand — not at first. He simply sat there, gaze flicking to their joined fingers. He could have pulled away. He should have pulled away. But he didn’t.

Then, finally, when Jack gripped his hand — fingers rough and warm — James finally closed his around his in return.

A pirate. A criminal. A liar.

But right now... just a man. Flesh and blood, sick and clinging to life.

Then came the final whisper.

“I have a feeling you won’t let me end up dead.”

James didn’t speak at first. His throat tightened, jaw set, eyes fixed on the pale curve of Jack’s cheek — the way the blush lingered even in sleep. He could feel the pirate's pulse beating faintly through his fingers. Slow, but steady now.

You’re wrong, he wanted to say. I should let you hang. For the things you’ve done. The things I’ve sworn to uphold justice against.

But instead, what came out — so soft it could’ve been mistaken for the wind outside the hull — was:

“I ...don’t know that I could.”

And he stayed right there, his hand wrapped around Jack’s, long after the pirate had fallen asleep.

"You're right, it never stopped me," Jack let out a small chuckle, feeling considerably better -- still experiencing some pain, but not as bad as before. Even though he was still sluggish, from both the fever and the rum, it didn't escape his attention how James' voice has softened.

"Thanks, mate... at least my crew will get out of this alive." He added. "Though I don't intend to meet my end just yet, savvy? I'm goin' to come up with some grand escape plan. Who knows, maybe even you might help," Jack wasn't exactly joking, though his tone remained light.

Then he felt James touching him again, and Jack fell silent for a while, talking would've only ruined the moment. His pulse quickened, and his heart beat faster, but not from illness now. This was something different altogether. Something he didn't feel before, not lust, but... longing. For something Jack thought he'd never want nor experience before.

His fingers wrapped around James' hand, and as the pirate slowly drifted off to sleep, he uttered one more sentence.

"I have a feeling you won't let me end up dead."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Darkness. Pressure. Cold, crushing weight.

The sea had dragged him down fast—too fast. James hadn’t even had the chance to struggle, to reach for the surface. The cold had wrapped around him like chains, pulling him deeper, deeper still, until thought itself started to fade.

But then—light. Movement. Arms, strong and sure, around his waist. He remembered that. Not the ship. Not the storm. Just that brief sensation of being held… safe.

A violent cough broke through the quiet of the beach.

James’ body jerked, water spilling from his lips as he heaved in his first ragged breath. His eyes flew open with a start—blurry, salt-stung, disoriented. He gasped and rolled onto his side, coughing up more seawater, chest rising and falling with every labored inhale.

It was only after a moment—after the pounding in his skull dulled to a steady throb—that he realized someone was beside him. Someone watching him closely.

Not just someone.

A man with sea-soaked dark hair… and glistening scales where legs should have been.

James blinked hard, trying to will the image away. Surely, it was a hallucination—a figment of his oxygen-starved mind. But the figure didn’t vanish. In fact, he looked worried. Kind. Real.

“…What…?” James rasped, voice barely more than a breath, unsure if he meant where am I, who are you, or what in God’s name are you.

His hand weakly reached toward the stranger—toward the shimmer of scales just to be sure—but he stopped just short of touching. His brows furrowed, still caught between confusion and disbelief.

“You… saved me?” he managed, struggling to sit up despite the dizziness gripping him.

He stared, dazed, at the creature—no, the man—before him, his mind whirring, trying to make sense of it all.

Jack had been following the Interceptor for a while now when the storm hit -- making the sea roar and heave like a wounded monster wanting to swallow everything in its reach.

The sea gods are angry, the siren thought, but for what reason they wanted to destroy this ship or any ship in particular, he could never understand. Perhaps he wasn't meant to, at least that was what his mother would always say. She would also tell him humans were cruel, but Jack did not believe that. He has always been curious about the world above.

He just wanted to dive below the water to escape the storm's wrath, when he saw a man fall into the water and disappear under the surface. Jack expected him to come up again, but when he didn't, he knew something was wrong. So he dove in after the Commodore, and upon reaching him, he wrapped his arms around James' waist, pulling him back to the surface and swimming towards the shore.

Once there, he heaved themselves onto the sand, and leaned above James, checking if he was breathing.

"Come on," Jack muttered, pressing on James' chest, trying to bring him back to life. "Breathe. Please, breathe. Don't you die on me..."

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

@heartthrobxhook "You and I would make a great team."

James looked up slowly from the map, his brow furrowed not from confusion, but because that damn line always stirred something in his chest. Months aboard the Jolly Roger had worn down the walls he built, both emotional and professional. They’d fought side-by-side against storms and sea monsters, and in quiet moments, they'd shared touches that lingered too long, kisses that started in stolen shadows and ended in tangled sheets. But neither of them had said what it really meant — not out loud.

"A great team?" James repeated dryly, a smirk curling on his lips as he rolled up the map and stepped closer. “You mean when you’re not trying to steal my boots or ‘accidentally’ locking me in your quarters so that I may have my way with you?” His voice dropped just enough to remind Killian of last night — and the night before that. But still, he didn’t pull away. In fact, he stopped only a breath away, eyes searching the pirate’s face.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

The moment Eddie’s arm locked around his throat, Jamie’s first instinct was panic. It was animalistic, immediate—his body jolted, muscles straining as adrenaline surged, fight or flight triggering in an instant. He clawed at the forearm around his neck, kicked backward with wild force, and twisted in Eddie’s grip, desperate to free himself. The world narrowed to the tight pressure on his windpipe and the way his pulse thundered in his ears.

“Eddie—Eddie—no—!” he gasped out, voice strangled and hoarse. But the words didn’t carry, not fully. The pressure was already warping the sound.

Instincts screamed at him to survive. Move. Break. Kill if you must. It was what the Kingsman had taught him—how to fight, how to kill, how to endure and win no matter the situation. And for a brief moment, it kicked in. Jamie slammed his elbow back with trained precision, trying to jab Eddie’s ribs. But Eddie held fast. He was strong. Determined. And despite the calm resolve Jamie had carried through their entire conversation, fear now began to creep in, crawling up his spine like a cold wave.

Eddie’s hold didn’t loosen. Not for a second. "Take a… sleep, Jamie. You’ll be okay, promise. "

Jamie’s movements became more frantic at that. His breath hitched, short and sharp gasps pulling through a throat that was rapidly closing. His legs kicked, arms flailed, fingernails dug into the skin of Eddie’s forearm—but he couldn’t get a grip. Couldn’t break free. His strength, impressive though it was, was failing him. His vision was already darkening at the edges, blurring. His lungs burned.

And then, as Eddie’s words repeated in his ear—“Just let go”—Jamie’s fight began to slip.

His body stilled. Not entirely, not all at once. There was a desperate flutter of his fingers, a final jerk of his arm, a twitch of his knee. But it was fading. Weakening. The pressure in his skull was unbearable now, his thoughts skipping like a scratched record. All he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. All he could feel was Eddie—his heat, the firm grip, the betrayal and the care mingled together in one awful contradiction.

A soft, broken sound caught in his throat—part sob, part plea—as his body finally stopped fighting. His legs buckled. His fingers slipped from Eddie’s forearm. His mouth opened like he meant to say something, a plea, a name, maybe just a breath—but nothing came.

And then—nothing.

Lancelot collapsed in Eddie’s grip, body going slack and heavy in his arms. He was unconscious. But not dead. At least.. not THIS time.

Eddie should be rather proud of himself, taking down two of the Kingsman in one night.

It was eerie the way Jamie was so calm. Eddie had felt that shift, the change when he’d held him. Shaking and trembling one moment, then still the next. And as Eddie was baring his soul for Jamie to see, it was rather odd how relaxed Jamie was. Perhaps that’s what was needed in the moment, one of them freaking out. Though, if what Jamie had said was true, then perhaps this was just more evidence to the fact that he was no longer normal.

Eddie didn’t flinch when Jamie took his wrists. He did as was asked of him and stared, looked deeply at the man before him. At his friend. At first he didn’t see anything, but the more he focused the more his eyes widened. He saw the line, followed it. Exactly right down the middle of Jamie’s face. His nose, lips, chin…down to throat to disappear behind collar. There was no mistaking it now. That couldn’t be brushed off as a scar or trick of the light. It was a real line. Straight down the middle. So faint, barely noticeable unless you knew to look.

Eddie was stunned. He just stared in awe, in shock. In absolute horror that Jamie had been telling the truly. Utterly and completely. His friend really had died and Eddie had no clue. He wasn’t there. He was half way across the world robbing some poor sod. It filled him with dread, with guilt, that he’d not known at all. That Jamie had gone through all of this alone. He couldn’t bear it. “Jamie I-…” What could he say? There was nothing to say to make this better. For one, it was all said and done. It was in the past, yet the consequences were still being faced on a daily basis.

Still. Eddie felt sick at the thought of Jamie going through something so horrific and remembering it. In that moment, Eddie decided that Jamie was the strongest person he had ever known. To go through all that and continue, that took strength. Courage. He understood why Jamie felt like a prisoner. It made sense now. But that didn’t change Eddie’s point of view. It didn’t change anything at all. He was still set on protecting Jamie, on taking him to safety. Getting him away from the Kingsman. Whatever it took. Jamie had been through more than enough.

“Jamie I-…I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea…” Eddie’s voice was low, full of shame and sadness. He should’ve been there. Should’ve always been there. Maybe then none of this would’ve happened, and Jamie wouldn’t have that trauma. “I get it. I do. I get why you feel this way. But you never asked to come back. They made that decision for you. What they did, they did without your consent. And while I’m grateful you’re still here, I hate to think it was against your will.” Eddie could be selfish, very much so. He didn’t want to lose any of his brothers, any of his friends that he fought side by side with. Jamie was no exception to that. The circumstances though…felt so wrong. So dirty. Jamie deserved better.

The more Eddie looked at Jamie, the more he realised the bastard had already made up his mind and intended to stick to it. There would be no swaying him. Jamie was set on leaving, on this being the end. Their goodbye. Eddie could quite easily let him go, the pair going their separate ways once more. But things had changed. He wasn’t going to lose Jamie ever again. “Jamie, listen—“

Eddie was cut off with the kiss. He froze, tensed in surprise and shock. It wasn’t expected at all. While the two had been close, he hadn’t realised how Jamie felt. Yet he didn’t push him away and allowed himself to feel the contact, the closeness of another. Something he hadn’t felt in so, so long. He was left stunned as Jamie pulled away and leaned back. He almost missed those last words uttered, snapping out of the daze to come back to reality.

Jamie was leaving Eddie with no choice. He’d have to take the stubborn bastard away by force. Eddie let out a deep breath and reached out a hand to Jamie, standing up and pulling Jamie up at the same time. He pretended to play along and gave a nod. “I…understand. I’m sorry.” He patted Jamie’s shoulder and took a few steps forward, placing himself behind Jamie and making it seem like he was walking away. He moved slow, waiting for Jamie to start walking in the opposite direction.

The moment he did, Eddie struck. A strong arm wrapped tightly around Jamie’s neck, locking him in a chokehold while his other arm wrapped around chest, keeping him pinned. “I’m sorry.” Eddie muttered, voice trembling with effort and emotion as his goal was to knock Jamie out. “Let…go. I…need you to let…go, mate. Just let go.” He urged, his hold not budging no matter how hard Jamie squirmed and tried to claw himself free. Yet he was careful not to hurt nor kill him. That absolutely wasn’t the goal here. “Take a…sleep, Jamie. You’ll be okay, promise. Just let go.”

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Oh? What's this?? ANOTHER picture of SCRUFFINGTON!?

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Jamie’s calm remained steady, disturbingly so, even as Eddie collapsed to his knees and pleaded with him, gripping his face with trembling hands, staring into him like sheer will alone could anchor him to reality. Eddie’s pain should’ve hit Jamie like a tidal wave—he felt it scraping against the edges of his soul, recognized it like an old friend—but it was as though it all passed through a thick pane of glass. Muted. Distant. The drug coursing through his system kept the worst of it at bay. For now.

But in this moment, he was composed. Detached. Able to explain. So he did, gently, his voice as steady as the ticking of a clock.

“…It did happen,” he said softly, eyes not flinching from Eddie’s desperation. “I know it’s hard to believe. I wouldn’t believe it either, if I were you. But I need you to stop talking. Just… just look at me, Eddie.”

Jamie reached up and took Eddie’s wrists in a light, calm grip—not to push him away, not to hold him close, but to steady him.

“Really look.”

He tilted his head slightly, the dim light catching on something impossibly subtle—a razor-thin line running vertically down from his forehead. It split his skin down the middle of his face, disappearing into the slope of his nose down his lips, chin, then reappearing faintly down his neck and dipping beneath his collar. It was almost invisible, impossible to see unless you were shown. But now that Eddie saw it—really saw it—it would be like a splinter in his vision. How hadn’t he noticed before?

“That’s the seam,” Jamie murmured. “One long line. Goes all the way down. You see it now, don’t you?” His lips curled into something tired, but not bitter. “They put me back together. Sewed me back together. And I don’t know how. I don’t ask. Because I know I shouldn’t.”

He released Eddie’s wrists and slowly sat back, resting his hands on his knees. He looked down, as if ashamed. As if tired. “This isn’t tech made for soldiers. Not even special forces. This isn’t anything the average bastard’ll ever even hear rumors of. But Kingsman… they’re not average. You know that.”

He looked up at Eddie again. His eyes were dry, but they shone with something old and deep and grieving. “They do own me,” he repeated quietly. “Because I am alive. Because they made sure I still could be. And no matter how twisted their reasons are … I wouldn’t be sitting in front of you right now without them. You wouldn’t have me.”

There was a long, brittle silence. He breathed in deeply. Let it out.

“I ... will miss you,” Jamie added, voice thinning.

And then, slowly, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s lips—light, calm, and full of something final.

A goodbye.

He lingered there for a second, letting the warmth of the moment sink in like sunlight on skin he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Then he pulled back and said, “I have to go.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He thought it was some sick joke, some trick that further proved Jamie wasn’t well. That the Kingsman had broken him far more than he thought. It made no sense. Miracles like that didn’t happen, they didn’t exist. That technology…it was something out of a sci-fi movie. Pure fiction.

He’d stopped pacing and just stared at Jamie as he spoke, as he explained his side of the situation. The more he heard, the more insane he thought Jamie was. It had to be a mind game they were playing, making Jamie believe in some fantasy to keep him on a tight leash. Had to be. That was the only logical, rational explanation because there was no way Jamie had died and Eddie didn’t know about it.

No way.

Eddie scoffed and shook his head. “This is a new low for you, mate. This is some sick, twisted joke. After all we’ve been through, after seeing my brothers die in action, right in front of me…in my fucking arms! You don’t get to say this shit! You’ve gone completely mad! What you’re talking about, that sort of technology doesn’t exist! It’s impossible. What you’re talking about is impossible. I’m looking at you and I see a grown man. A complete man. No scars, nothing. They’re lying to you, Jamie. Messing with your head, making you believe in crazy stories so they can keep tightening the leash around your neck. Why can’t you see that?! After all this time, after my hatred toward them, why can’t you still see the truth?!”

Or why couldn’t Eddie see the truth?

No. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t. And while he didn’t like to think that Jamie would lie to him about something like this, he simply just couldn’t believe that such a horrific thing had happened, that it was possible. That Jamie wasn’t exactly human anymore. It made him feel sick and unsteady on his feet as he slumped down to his knees in front of Jamie. His eyes brimmed with tears, more trickling down his cheeks as he tried to process this…insane story.

As he tried to process the very real possibility that Jamie had actually died.

“There’s no way you died and I didn’t know about it. You can’t sit there and honestly say you died, Jamie. You can’t. It’s not fucking possible. It’s not!” He reached out and gripped either side of Jamie’s head, staring into his eyes. “You’re right here in front of me. You’re real, and in one piece.” He stated firmly. “Even…even if what you say is true, it’s all the more reason to get the fuck away from them, Jamie! They’re dangerous fucking psychos! If…if they did all that to you…the last thing you’d want is to go back to them. Jamie, please. Come with me. Let me get you away from here, let me get you help. We can get through this. We can figure it out together, eh? It’s just you and me. Like always.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie was pleading and begging. It wasn’t often he was on his knees, a broken mess so openly for someone to see. But it was too much. It was all too much. If what Jamie had been telling him was the truth…he couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t accept that he’d lost his one true friend and had no idea. That his body had been tampered with and used against his will to bring him back. While Eddie was so glad Jamie was still here and still alive, he couldn’t let the Kingman have their hands on him. Not after what they’d done. His priority was keeping Jamie safe and away from them. Whatever it took.

If Jamie didn’t come with him willingly, then he’d resort to other measures. But one thing Eddie would never do, is resort to the same cruelty toward Jamie as the Kingman did.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Jamie didn’t flinch under Eddie’s yelling. Didn’t recoil, didn’t look away. He just sat there, still, eyes strangely distant, glassy, like he wasn’t fully in the room. The pulse at his neck had slowed again, like static humming beneath skin. The calm-boost still had him under its thumb—holding him steady when his heart should’ve been tearing itself to shreds. But even with the calm, something in him stirred when he saw the tear slip down Eddie’s cheek. Something old. Buried. Flickering dim beneath layers of numb.

His voice came low. Unshaken.

“Because Jamie is already dead.”

It hung there between them for a beat, heavy and irreversible. And then Jamie slowly lifted his eyes to meet Eddie’s, something hollow flickering behind them.

“They do own me,” he said, flatly. “I owe them my life. Quite literally.”

His hands flexed uselessly in his lap, fingertips brushing over his thighs like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Sliced in half from the tip of my head to the tip of my-- well obviously. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Physically. Spine to sternum. Through vital organs, Two halves of me bleeding out on a slab while the bastards upstairs argued about whether I was worth saving. ”

He blinked slowly, gaze steady, tone unchanged. Still too calm.

“They brought me back. Stitched me together with tech and miracle cures, and nano-sutures and whatever else they’ve buried under my skin. I don’t even know what’s in me anymore. But I woke up. And I moved. And they told me it worked. But no one comes back from death completely intact. Not really. I lost something. Maybe a few somethings. I don’t know what. But I’m not my own man any longer.”

Another slow breath. His eyes drifted down to the floor.

“You’re not wrong. About my being a puppet. About the control. But I don’t get to just walk away, Eddie. Not after what they did for me. Not after what I am now.”

It would’ve been so easy. So easy to leave, to find some place far away and settle. Abandon their old lives and start anew. Eddie had the money, the means, all that was left was to act. To get up and go. It was their ticket to freedom, true freedom. He thought it’s what Jamie wanted, what he needed. He expected Jamie to jump at the opportunity, to rush off as fast as they could.

Eddie hadn’t expected Jamie’s answer.

It felt like a punch to the chest and hit harder than any bullet could have. It was the academy all over again, all those years ago. Eddie had asked Jamie to join the army with him so they could fight side by side. Back then he’d refused, just like he had now. He thought this time would be different after their reunion, the bar, the flat…he thought it would be different. But history was just repeating itself again.

Eddie’s hold loosened slightly but not completely. He sagged somewhat in defeat as a cocktail of emotions stirred within him. Confusion, annoyance, frustration. Hurt. He didn’t want to get angry, not with Jamie in his current state. Not with the way he was trembling and struggling to even speak. But knowing he wanted the same thing was like rubbing salt in the wound. Eddie’s jaw tensed as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re not a Kingsman, Jamie. You’re just a well dressed puppet allowing others to pull your strings and control you. You know that’s what’s happening! And you’re miserable! Look at you, you’re barely holding it together! Why? Why are you doing this to yourself?!” Eddie couldn’t understand. None of this made sense. None of it. All of Jamie’s loyalty should’ve been thrown out the window by now. Even more so after the retraining he was so terrified of.

He felt how stressed Jamie was, felt how scared. How worried. How broken. He felt it all with how Jamie clung to him. He couldn’t understand why someone would allow themselves to feel this way, going through this pain willingly. Not when there was an easy escape. And then he felt Jamie all of a sudden relax. He didn’t comment on it but Eddie noticed. It was so sudden and seemed so…alien. Jamie hadn’t been lying when he said there was far more going on.

Eddie stood from the couch and paced, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re worried about them, I’ll take care of it. Whatever it takes to leave you alone. I’ve always, always kept you safe. I’ve always stayed true to my word when it comes to you. I’d handle them if that’s your concern. But Jamie, you can’t keep going on like this. You’re barely you anymore. Surely you can see what they’ve done to you! Soon Jamie will be dead and you’ll be fully Lancelot the puppet. I’m not ready for you to fucking die, you stupid bastard!” Eddie yelled, hands flailing while he spoke and continued to pace, gazing down at Jamie every so often.

“It would be so easy, Jamie. We just go. We just leave. You won’t get an easier out than this, mate. You should be grabbing it with both hands, not throwing it back in my face just like you did back then. You and I work better as a team. Always have. When we split up, shit hits the fan. While I don’t believe in fate and all that bullshit, I believe we reunited for a reason. This exact reason. For me to drill it into your thick skull that you don’t need the Kingsman. You didn’t back then and you certainly don’t now! So, stop being a stubborn prick and let me help you!”

Eddie was the one getting all worked up now, pacing frantically, eyes glistening with tears he refused to let fall. Not now. When he saw Jamie try to stand up, Eddie acted and pushed him back down, pointing at him. “No! No, you’re staying right fucking here and you’re going to give me answers. Tell me. Tell me the reason you’d rather stay and be a slave to a bunch of rich fucking assholes who don’t give a shit about you, than leave with the one true friend you’ve ever had who does. I want to know why, Jamie. I deserve that much.”

Eddie wasn’t going to drop this. Not this time. Not until he knew why he was once more being betrayed by the only person he’d truly ever trusted. His breathing was heavy, his eyes wide and wild as his anger bubbled to the surface. He couldn’t hide it anymore, nor could he stop the single tear that tricked down his scarred cheek. “TELL ME!”

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

As Eddie guided them to the couch, Jamie moved with him—close, too close, like distance itself might undo him. When they sat, he stayed curled tight against Eddie’s side, seeking out that old familiar warmth. And for a second, the world blurred again:

The couch in Jamie’s flat. Jamie half-asleep, slumped against Eddie’s chest, the quiet broken only by the sound of their breathing and the occasional drunken snort of laughter. Eddie’s arm had stayed firm around him all night, a silent promise that Jamie wasn’t alone—not then, not now.

Back in the present, Jamie shut his eyes, jaw working as he tried to hold back the wave rising in his throat.

Jamie sat there, quiet, trembling ��� his breathing finally slowing in Eddie’s arms, but the tension didn’t leave him entirely. His hands fisted in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt like if he let go, he might fall apart completely. When Eddie spoke, offering a way out, an escape from the pain, from the duty, from the hollowed-out shell he’d become — God, it was tempting. So tempting he could see it. Feel it. That life, that peace, that safety, with Eddie beside him.

But it wasn’t real. Not for him. Not anymore.

Jamie shook his head slowly, the movement subtle but final. “Eddie…”

His voice cracked, so he swallowed, tried again. “I can’t.”

He didn’t move away from Eddie’s hold, didn’t want to — needed it, desperately — but his jaw set, firm with a resolve that hurt even to speak aloud. “I’m… I’m a Kingsman, Eddie. I am. It’s not just a job, not anymore. It’s who I am. Who they made me.”

He looked away, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know. Things I shouldn't tell you. Things I wish I didn’t know myself.” His fingers trembled against Eddie’s chest. “You think this is the worst of it? It’s not. You've only seen a sliver.”

Jamie’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears he barely heard the silence around them. It wasn’t just the emotion—though that alone was enough to shake him—it was his body reacting too. A spiraling physiological response embedded deep in his bones.

“I want what you’re offering. I do,” he admitted, breath shuddering as he leaned his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder. “But I.. cannot!! "

Somewhere, in some secure Kingsman server room humming quietly in a London basement, an alert pinged. Agent Lancelot: Elevated adrenal output detected. Cortisol spike approaching critical. Internal suture strain: moderate risk of rupture. The system flagged him for intervention. “CalmBoost: Authorized.” A failsafe after the surgery pulsed in his bloodstream, quietly dosing him with something synthetic and cold to counteract the flood of human feeling before it tore him apart.

Jamie barely noticed the chemical shift—but Eddie might have. The tremor in his hands stilled, he released that shirt, his breath easing, shoulders slackening by degrees. Not peace. Just sedation. A hush where pain had started to roar. He didn’t look up now. " I should… check on Gawain. " Attempting to get up.

Through all the struggling, Eddie refused to let go. That grip remained firm and secure, the lifeline that Jamie needed right now. This wasn’t him. Cold, dead inside, robotic. Eddie knew him better than anyone and knew that something had happened. He’d seen it happen before to soldiers, to other agents. It was horrible. He could only imagine the pain and suffering inflicted upon them…upon Jamie. Eddie wouldn’t let that happen again. Whatever it took, he wouldn’t let Jamie go through anything like that.

“Hey, hey, hey…shhh shhh…breathe, mate. Just breathe. That’s it. Just let go for me, alright? I’m here. It’s just us. You’re okay.” Eddie attempted to soothe while Jamie got lost in his memories, good and bad. Until the fight finally left him. Even as he sagged, Eddie carried the extra weight without difficulty. If anything, he gladly supported Jamie. Whatever he needed to snap out of this and explain what was going on.

And he did, in so many words. But Eddie knew exactly what he was talking about. Conditioning, brainwashing, controlling. Pulling the strings. And it had clearly done a number on Jamie who was struggling to cope with it all, who seemed utterly exhausted. And it was all his fault. All his fault for causing the mess before, the mess Jamie was sent to clean up. If they hadn’t met…Jamie wouldn’t be suffering like this.

It killed him to see Jamie like this. That sob tore his heart in two. He didn’t stop Jamie though, but let him get it all out. Get out all he needed to say, all that was bottled up in side. Eddie just continued to hold him, support him, ground him as much as possible. But it was difficult with Jamie in such a state. This wasn’t something he’d easily and quickly recover from. He needed time. He needed rest. “Hey, c’mon. Over here. There we go.” Eddie spoke softly as he led them over to a plush couch and guided Jamie down to sit. Eddie sat next to him, never dropping his hold.

“Jamie, listen to me. I promise nothing like that will ever happen again. No retraining, alright? I can fix this.” Eddie said, now certain on the idea. “Listen, come with me Jamie. We’ll leave, go somewhere off grid, lay low. I’ve got more than enough to tide us over for the rest of our days. We can finally retire, Jamie. We can finally live. It’ll just be you and me, like the old days but better!” Eddie smiled at the idea, staring into Jamie’s eyes to show he wasn’t lying. This wasn’t a joke, but a very real offer. A chance at a fresh start.

“You don’t need the Kingsman, Jamie. Not if they’re treating you like this. You deserve better, so much better. We can leave right now while your friend is still out cold. I’ve got contacts. We can get a chopper and head whenever we want. It would be so easy. You’d finally be free, Jamie. Not following anyone but yourself.” This mission set Eddie up for life. He wouldn’t want for nothing. He could stop all this and try to live a normal life. He hadn’t found any reason to before…but now there was. He wouldn’t have to do it alone.

“It’s what we deserve, Jamie. Think about it, mate. You’d be able to finally sleep at night.”

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Commodore, stop denying the inevitable. You will warm the bed of Captain Jack Sparrow.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Lancelot’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected Rutledge to adapt—hadn’t counted on him remembering his tells. His footwork. The rhythm of his attacks.

It caught him off guard, how easily Eddie shifted behind him.

Strong arms locked around his chest, like a steel trap. For a moment, Lance struggled on instinct—elbows twisting, knees driving back, muscles tensing in rigid fury. But the harder he fought, the more those arms held him. Not violently. Not cruelly. Just tight. Secure.

His breath caught again—not from panic. From memory.

“Let-”

Flash. Sand. Gunfire. Both of them ducked behind the same wall, breathless and stupid with adrenaline. “Don’t die on me, Rutledge,” Jamie had barked. “You die, I’m kicking your bloody ghost’s arse.” And Eddie—grinning despite the blood on his cheek—had just said, “Wouldn’t dream of it, mate.”

“go—”

Flash. Years later. That stunned half-smile on Eddie’s face when they locked eyes again with Lancelot pointing his gun at him, just like tonight. Older. Rougher. Changed. But still him.

“of—”

The bar. Low lights, laughter he hadn’t felt in years—real laughter. A drink in his hand. Eddie's smirk. “You’re wound tighter than a fuckin’ watch spring, mate. Loosen up.”

"ME!"

The couch. The way he’d let himself tip sideways without thinking. The warmth. The steadiness. The weight of Eddie’s arm slung over him like a tether, grounding him. Letting him rest.

And now—

That arm. Around him again. Stronger now.

Stronger than him.

He twisted again, breath caught, but the fire in him was starting to flicker. To sputter. To die.

“I can’t—” he rasped, breath shallow, head lowering. “I can’t go through it again.”

Another flash.

The chair. Strapped down. Lights in his face. Every failure listed. Every mistake carved into his mind like tally marks on a cell wall.

The cold water. The silence. The commands.

"Control your emotions, agent. Again." "Again." "Again."

A sob tore from him. Sudden. Violent. Like something broken open inside. His knees buckled slightly, weight sagging against Rutledge’s chest.

He wanted to hang on to Eddie’s warmth. To that couch. To the bar. To before.

But the voices wouldn’t stop.

"Too emotional." "Too compromised."

“I tried,” Jamie choked out, the sob breaking through him like shrapnel. “I did—everything—they asked! I passed—every bloody test.."

He was no longer fighting him.

“I can’t fail again,” he whispered, almost too quiet to hear. “I can’t fail again, I won’t survive another — retraining session..”

The struggle left him in a single exhale, and he collapsed back into Eddie’s chest, shoulders wracked. Silent, shaking. Jamie. Not Lancelot. Just… Jamie.

And for the first time in months, he let someone hold him. Not just anyone, but Edward. Was he in love with this man? That was the only explanation, it had to be.

Rutledge’s brows furrowed at Lance’s response. Just what the hell was going on? What had they done to him? Before, his name…his real name got a reaction. Got some response because no one called him that anymore. But now? Lance just shrugged it off like it was nothing. Rutledge felt a heavy pit in his stomach despite everything. Something was seriously wrong here. With Lance…with the Kingsman. And while he didn’t have to care and shouldn’t, he did. He couldn’t let it go. Jamie was all he had.

Even as the trigger was pulled, Rutledge didn’t retaliate. He just kept slowly walking forward. The shot that grazed his arm stung, but he’d been through far worse and so it was easy to shrug off and move on. All the other shots missed, which wasn’t the Jamie he knew. He could tell how unfocused he was. Focusing too hard to keep control only made the situation that much worse. Rutledge knew that firsthand.

Finally the Aussie stopped a few feet away from Jamie, hands still raised. At this distance, there’s no way the shot would miss. Rutledge prepared for the worst, took the risk…and it paid off. No bullets left. He let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Jamie…listen to me, I’m not gonna fight you, mate. Not like this. Something’s off about you, something’s wrong. Talk to me. What did they do to you? Surely recent events have shown you can trust me when it counts.” Rutledge stated, trying to get through.

For a moment, he thought he had. Thought that Jamie would explain. But then it was like something took over again, and whatever it was was out for blood.

His blood.

“Jamie, c’mon mate! It doesn’t have to be like this!” He called out as Jamie lunged. He hadn’t lost that speed, but Rutledge was prepared this time. He’d had a refresher and was able to swerve out of the way just enough, and move behind Jamie. He quickly wrapped his arms around him, grip tight - almost crushing - pinning Jamie’s back against his chest. The more the Brit struggled, the tighter the hold around him got. “For fuck sake mate, calm down! You don’t have to do this. Breathe, mate. Breathe.”

He wasn’t sure if this would work, if any of it would. He didn’t want to think Jamie was that far gone. He didn’t want it to be like this. Not now. Not after the bar…and the flat. All of it made Rutledge realise just how lonely he was. While he hated that fact, he didn’t want to lose the only person he had left. The only one who truly got him, truly understood him. If they’d never met again, perhaps things would’ve been different. But that week changed far more for him than he realised.

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

Lancelot gave a dry, almost self-deprecating laugh. “Then it was probably in my early briefings—back when I was still half-delirious from surgery. Lot of those days are a blur.” He shrugged one shoulder lightly. “They must’ve slipped that little gem past me.”

He barely had time to finish the sentence before the building trembled. A muffled boom rippled through the floor beneath their feet—a low, distant explosion from somewhere in the east wing. Glass clinked in nearby windows. Gasps erupted from the partygoers as the music cut off, replaced by a dull emergency tone.

Lancelot immediately straightened, eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. Instinct took over—battle-readiness etched into every line of his body. But his gut sank before he even reached for his comm.

Lancelot didn’t move. His voice was even, tight.

“That wasn’t me.” He turned to Gazelle, jaw tight. “Whatever just went off… I assure you was NOT my doing.”

The emergency lighting bathed the party in a sterile red pulse as sirens flared to life somewhere in the distance.

That was certainly something. One moment he was ready to run, the next he was calm enough to have a conversation with her. Gazelle knew when there was more to something than met the eye.

“My employment with Valentine ended rather abruptly.” Death was certainly abrupt. “I am surprised yours did not mention it, given their hand in what happened.”

There was still a question about how much she could tell. Between the supernatural and the personal, some secrecy was necessary. "I ended up working in security and eventually made a connection that eventually brought me here."

She turned to face the rest of the party. There were plenty of individuals she didn't care about. Yet occasionally she got a flicker of the connection that made this all more than the crowd of upper class that had once been her work with Valentine.

"I do not know if it is the world that shifted or simply me." There was only sincerity in her words.