Jemma was sitting in a tall armchair. To her right, James was sat in one just like it. She was bent down and laying over her knees to pet George. The dog sat obediently, her head tilted up and her eyes closed. Jemma beamed, beginning to scratch under George's chin. James' dog was sleeping under his chair as he read a book.

The door opened, and they both looked up to see Merlin. They stood, and he nodded, putting them at ease. He took the chair across from them, putting a folder down on the table between their chairs.

"Good morning, you two." He said, sounding quite chipper.

"Morning." They replied in unison.

"You are the last two candidates in the running." Merlin stated, making them both pause, James blinking in surprise. "Usually I toss you all out of a plane before this, but I believe I've come to know both of your characters well enough to judge how you'd respond to that test."

James nodded, and Jemma blinked, shaking her head confusedly, "Wait, I'm sorry—how can we be the only two of us left?"

"The tests." He replied simply, "I don't pick who to cut based off any specific score—unless they're all horridly low, in which case you're all tossed—I base who to cut on the highest scores. If a few candidates are outliers—high above the rest—then they will go on. If one is an outlier, I usually take the people who have the second and third highest scores, if not more. Both of you were outliers."

"Oh." Was all Jemma could manage in response; she was slightly dazed by the specificity of his explanation.

Merlin opened the file, and handed each of them a sheet of paper.

"What's this then?" James asked, looking down at it.

"An invitation to a gala?" Jemma read, glancing up at Merlin.

"Yes." He nodded, "Thank you for at least glancing at the first line of something I took my time to type out before asking me to explain it."

She smiled nervously and shared a mildly confused look with James. They both turned back to Merlin, who appeared to have not noticed.

"Your galas are both tonight, at different times. You will each be accompanied by an agent. You will also be briefed by said agent. You will find your agent in the room I've written at the top of your sheet." Merlin said matter-of-factly, "There are no more safety nets, now. Any questions?"

James shook his head, and turned to Jemma. She did the same, glancing back at him. They parted ways then; James heading downstairs, and Jemma heading to a room on the ground floor. She knocked gently, opening the door slowly. There was a bed to the right, covered in suitcases, boxes and files. At the foot of it, there was a small bench, where a few more filing boxes sat. Just beyond that, in the center of the room, there was a card table with two chairs.

A man was standing in front of the table, his broad-shouldered back towards her. She looked him up and down, recognizing him immediately as Eggsy. Behind her, she pushed the door shut. He lifted his head from the papers he'd been studying, and glanced over his shoulder.

"Hey, Jem." He said calmly.

"Hello, Galahad." She replied carefully.

"Let's get started then."

Eggsy took the next hour and a half to discuss the mission with her. She did not speak much. He did not look at her unless he had to check and see if she was still listening. She always was.

It was a simple enough mission for her first time out in the field. The gala was being held by a man named Allan Mist, who was suspected of providing chemical weapons to hostile organizations and governments. The gala was a fundraiser for his non-profit organization, whose goal was to try and eliminate the effects of climate change. She asked if the gala was going to be a bunch of one-percenters rubbing elbows, and eating caviar tacos the size of Oreos. He had rather liked that apt description.

As Eggsy got the security codes off a guard's phone, Jemma was to swipe Mist's keycard, which always lived in his left, breast pocket. She did not seem nervous about this task. Eggsy took comfort in that.

They would have fifteen minutes to get into the elevator with the keycard and codes. This was because the codes changed every half an hour. Fitting into this timeline did seem to make Jemma a bit anxious, but she did not complain. In his experience, a lot of the missions began careful and slow, and then they would be suddenly kicked into overdrive in the last quarter.

"We're going as Edward Ferrars and Elinor Dashwood." Eggsy said from where he leaned against the bathroom's doorframe, adjusting his cufflinks.

"Which one are you?" She called from inside the bathroom.

"Funny." He replied, glancing at the door. He straightened, and began to look at himself in the full length mirror in front of the bathroom. He yanked his tie off the closet door, and popped up his collar, "We're representing Kingston Bank."

"And let me guess, I'll be playing your girlfriend." She opened the bathroom door, making him turn around. She walked past him, hanging up a gold, sleeveless dress in the closet. She stepped back, going to adjust the one she already had on—the one she seemed to have chosen.

"Fiancée, actually." He said slowly, trying to focus on tying his tie.

She stepped past him. "Still arm candy, though."

He stopped and looked at her, "This is your mission, Jem, not mine. They may not know that you're in charge, but you are."

She blinked, and then turned her back to him once more, examining herself in the mirror. "Huh."

He glanced over at her and stopped short. The dress wasn't buttoned properly, so her bare back was now exposed, as she was bent over to adjust the dress' hem and such. There was a large freckle just left of her spine, between her shoulder blades, and a few disturbed pores here and there over the space, but what was most striking were the marks—they were all over her skin. The scars were not connected; they were all small, individual disruptions on the expanse of her back. He couldn't understand how someone could possibly have that many back injuries without living for forty years at least.

She straightened, pulling the tops of the full-length sleeves further up onto her shoulders. He looked away. She reached around, beginning to button the dress behind her. He glanced over, and finished the knot of his tie.

"Here," He murmured, moving to do it for her. She watched him in the mirror, a curious look on her face. He did not meet her gaze, only focused on securing the dress to her frame.

"Jesus, how many are there?" She glanced over her shoulder, making him chuckle softly,

"There's gotta be at least twenty left." He smirked, continuing to button them without looking at her.

She faced the mirror, her expression solemn. She folded her hands in front of her, and waited patiently. His eyes flickered up to look at her profile as he worked. He looked back down and decided to speak.

"Green's a good color on you." He said quietly.

Her eyes flickered up to the mirror, looking at his downcast eyes in the reflection as he continued working. She rubbed the emerald satin of the floor-length skirt between her thumbs and forefingers on either side of her waist. She swallowed, nodding thanks as he pulled away.

He turned to grab his jacket and glasses. She walked back into the main part of the room and took a deep breath. With that, they left. James and Roxy saw then on their way out and wished Jemma luck. With that, they left through the front door where there was a driver and car waiting for them.

Jemma sat on the opposite side of the car, a shawl draped over her shoulders. She was staring out the window, with a relaxed but thoughtful expression on her gentle features. Eggsy was leaning against the other door, fidgeting about. He glanced up, and looked at her. He swallowed, making his body still.

"You alright?" He asked softly.

She looked over to him abruptly, as if he'd scared her. "What?"

"Are you nervous?" He said.

"I'm fine." She sighed, and turned back to the window. "Other of the fear of tripping over my dress, falling down the grand staircase and landing flat on my ass."

He smiled, chuckling gently.

They didn't speak much after that. Their driver pulled up in front of the building, and Eggsy stepped out of the car without a moment to spare. He walked around the back, buttoning his jacket as he went. He took a deep breath, then opened her door.

She glanced up at him as she rose from her seat. She tugged her shawl closer, looking about. He shut the door behind her, and they walked to the curb, taking each other's arm.

Starting up the steps, he felt her begin to tense next to him. As he took her shawl and handed it to the butler in the lobby, he realized she was holding her breath. They began to walk, and he heard her exhale dramatically, then inhale with the same fervor.

Slowly, he slid a hand about her waist. She looked up at him slowly, her eyes gliding up his body to his face. Her expression betrayed a little smile. He rather liked that look. He gave her a small wink of encouragement, and they both faced forward.

They entered the ballroom through a set of large doors that were held open for them. The floor was smooth and perfectly polished under their feet. They now stood atop a balcony with two staircases falling down beside them. Below the balcony there were people milling about, and dancing, the colors of their dresses painting the perfect picture of a life neither of them had ever had.

He bit his lip as he felt her take a deep breath under the hand he still had resting on her back. He glanced over at her again and this time it was his turn to smile. He held out his arm again. He raised his brows as if to ask her whether she wanted it or not. With a small shrug, she decided to take him up on his offer. Together, they began to descend one of the staircases.

She seemed to be trying to walk so that her shoes would not make such a loud sound with each step. He said nothing, just kept walking. He knew that as the night progressed, she'd gain her confidence.

"Why are there people watching us?" She whispered, and he smiled.

"They're watching you Jem." He said, looking down at his feet as he walked. He leaned a bit closer to her, "They've all realized that their dates have got nothing on you."

Her eyes widened ever so slightly. They stopped at the foot of the staircase, and he turned to face her. He took both of her hands then. "You look fuckin' good, Jem."

She glanced around and swallowed, turning back to face him. She looked down, angling her head slightly away from the rest of the room.

"I'm not sure how to respond." She murmured.

"Hey," He lifted her chin up so she was looking up at him again, "you got this, Jemma. You've been able to kick ass since day one. The only thing we did was teach you how to do it in style."

"Hey, I had style!" She said indignantly, a smile threatening to creep onto her face.

"Uhm…" He gave a facetious wince, "Are you sure about that?"

She laughed in spite of herself, touching her brow gently with one hand. She let it fall back down into his palm. "I'd hit you if the one percent weren't watching us."

He laughed, then pulled her arm back into the crook of his. "Come on then."

They began to walk, her steps now filled with their normal weight. He smiled to himself.

Eggsy stopped a waiter a few feet in front of them and took two glasses of champagne from his tray. The man nodded as Eggsy thanked him. He turned to Jemma and handed her one of the flutes. She took it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger. As Eggsy turned to look around and take a sip, she lowered it, not taking a drink. She did, however, lean over to snag an hors d'oeuve off another passing waiter's tray.

"You see him?" He asked, glancing over at her and taking another sip of his champagne.

"Mm." She nodded, taking a bite out of the glorified pig-in-a-blanket she'd snagged from the other waiter. "I'll be back."

With that, she stepped past him, moving towards her mark. Eggsy leaned back against one of the high-top tables and watched her. She pretended to be going to look at the auction items on the table behind her mark. She bent over one and then straightened, moving down the table until she "accidentally" bumped into Allan Mist.

She had a charming smile and air about her as she turned to apologize to him. Allan Mist was a middle-aged man of good humor and kind mannerisms, but that did not set either Jemma or Eggsy off-balance. The intel that had been provided to them was solid, and they were both convinced that he was guilty.

After about five or so minutes of her chatting him up, Eggsy decided to move in. He walked towards her and then suddenly "tripped" on his own feet. He bumped into her back, sending her into Allan Mist's chest. Eggsy went quickly to pull her back to her feet. As she slipped away from her mark's chest, Eggsy just saw her hand leaving the neckline of her dress, as if she'd stashed something inside of her bra.

"Oh, god, I am so, so sorry, sir—" Eggsy began, holding Jemma.

"—Don't worry about it," Mr. Mist replied easily.

"—Elinor, are you alright?" Eggsy asked Jemma, "I was just coming over to see who you were talking with and you know me, I tripped over something—"

"—Darling," She put a hand on his chest to silence him, "it's alright. Lord knows I don't love you for your grace."

Eggsy nodded stoutly, smiling at her gentle tease. They both turned back to Mr. Mist, finding him staring at the two of them in adoration.

"Oh, Allan, this is my fiancée, Edward Ferrars." She introduced Eggsy, who offered his hand to Mr. Mist.

"Very nice to meet you, sir." Eggsy said.

"No, no, the pleasure is all mine." Mr. Mist replied earnestly, "You've got quite the woman here."

"I have," Eggsy nodded, turning to look at Jemma, "haven't, I?"

Mr. Mist gestured with both of his hands to the dance floor behind them. "Please, enjoy your night."

"Thank you, we will." Jemma smiled, bowing her head slightly as Mr. Mist turned and walked away.

She glanced up at Eggsy then, and found him already staring at her. They stood still for a long moment, gazing into each other's faces. He smiled, and then offered her a hand. Gladly, she took it, and they glided out onto the dance floor.

"I haven't danced in fuckin' forever." He said, "I thought I might practice with you before we left, but I never got around to it."

"Oh, you seem to be doing just fine, Mr. Ferrars." She replied as they spun.

"How are you?" He asked after a moment.

"I'm just fine, sir, and how are you?" She smiled up at him. He pulled her back to his chest, and they snapped together like puzzle pieces.

"I'm better now." He said softly—he only needed to be loud enough for her to hear him from the other side of the inch and a half that separated their noses.

She looked down at their feet, taking a breath.

He said nothing else after this, contented to just dance with her in silence. He twirled her after a while, stepping back slightly as her skirt floated over the wind, and the music lifted slightly. They stayed like this for a while, until he dipped her, and she whispered in his ear, "We should go, or we'll lose our window."

He nodded, lifting back to her feet, "When do the codes change?"

"Fifteen minutes." She muttered back

They danced for another minute, and then when the song ended, they walked slowly off the dance floor. He took her by the hand then and pulled her gently down the hallway.

"Alright" He said, after they'd successfully sneaked past security. He then moved on to quizzing her on the mission specks she was supposed to have memorized, "which way?"

"Left, then the first right, and then take the lift to sub-level two." She said firmly, her face set. He nodded, following her as she walked down the hallway carefully, but quickly.

They marched down the hall, side-by-side. Something about it made them both feel confident and powerful. Suddenly, they heard footsteps ahead of them. They both slowed. They'd been making sure their feet were soft on the carpeted floor, in case of this situation. They leaned against the corner. She began looking around for an exit or a hiding place, but there were none. Eggsy's hand moved towards the gun inside his pocket.

Jemma, of course, was not opposed to the idea of using a gun. They had heard the person's walkie-talkie go off earlier, so they knew it was a guard, and she was even less opposed to using a gun on one of those. She just couldn't bring herself to allow this to go down as she thought it could; there were too many variables—the gun was too loud, they did not know who he was, nor did they know if he could trigger some kind of alarm. She couldn't risk screwing this up for herself—not now that she was this close to becoming a Kingsman.

Eggsy's mind had already thought of all of these scenarios, and she could see on his face that he'd decided to take the risk. She thought of something and hesitated for a second. She watched his face, trying to gauge his thoughts. He glanced back at her, his hand resting on the gun inside his coat.

He looked back and forth between her eyes, the guard closing in. Suddenly, she paused, holding her breath. His hand relaxed on the pistol. Her eyes flickered down to his lips. He didn't even need her to say the words, because that look on her face spoke the only command he needed to hear, and it sounded a lot like: "kiss me."

She grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket, and he let her pull him onto her lips. She lifted herself up onto her tiptoes. His hands slid around her waist and then up her spine. She stepped closer. His back was against the wall. It was almost violent—her fingers tugging at his hair, his hands fisting the back of her dress. He spun them about and pushed her a bit roughly against the wall. She stiffened slightly in response. The guard was nearly on top of them.

Eggsy moved from her mouth to her neck, kissing her warm skin. She was trying very hard to focus, but when he murmured an apology into her ear on the way down to her throat for how he'd pushed her, she'd found herself wanting to relax into his lips. He ran a hand down her leg and lifted it by the knee, anchoring it to his hip. Slowly, she reached over and unhooked the emerald heel from her captive foot, and wiggled out of the other one still resting on solid ground.

The man came around the corner, and skidded to a halt. He looked at the pair of them bewilderedly. Eggsy was biting her shoulder gently, and she was staring at the guard. He was not sure what to make of it. She smiled seductively, and crooked a finger behind Eggsy's back, beckoning the stranger closer. He took an unsure step towards her, and then another. She bit her lip, and Eggsy kissed her cheek. She let out a barely-audible hum, and then Eggsy sprang out of her way.

She leapt at the guard, tackling him against the other side of the hall. She braced her bare foot against the wall behind him, and used it to lock her legs about his neck. She wrapped her whole body around his face, smothering him. He fell forwards, and she landed on her back. He was out cold.

She jumped up and groaned, touching her spine with one hand. Eggsy reached out for her elbow absent-mindedly, and she turned quickly to him, taken aback.

"You alright?" He asked, out of breath and earnest.

She nodded, starting to bend down and pick up her shoes, but he beat her to it. She watched him, surprised, as he straightened, and handed them to her. His eyes met hers, and there was something very tender in them.

He hadn't wanted to stop kissing her—not ever. Her lips had been so soft on his; her hands so bossy as they pulled at his jacket, making him press closer to her… He had not gotten enough time to truly explore the softness of her hair and how she felt against him. He knew that she was probably telling herself that their kiss was solely to distract the guard, but Eggsy wanted to believe that somewhere inside, she too had enjoyed that. The look of confusion on her face, though, made it look as if he was wrong.

"Come on," She said softly, stepping past him. He fell into step next to her again until they reached the elevator.

As she pulled out the keycard she'd swiped off of Allan Mist, he smiled proudly. She saw his expression and looked away, smirking to herself. She nodded, and he began to read her the code he'd taken off one of the security guards' phones—he'd cloned it while she'd gotten the keycard.

They stood in silence as the lift went down. She looked up at him and they shared a smile. The elevator landed on the second sub-level, and they got straight to work. They found themselves in a small computer room, with two guards on either side of the elevator. Eggsy and Jemma took out one each, Eggsy finishing first and grinning at her as she knocked hers out completely. Jemma lead as they walked around the main control desk, and they both looked at the screen, trying to figure out how to proceed.

"I have the drive Merlin gave us," She pulled it out of a seam in her dress, and he blinked. He was about to ask a question, but she was already down, looking for the port, "I just don't know where to plug it in…"

He squatted down next to her, holding the edge of the table and watching her. He smirked, "How come you didn't just ask me to put it in my jacket?"

She paused, turning to him. Her face broke into a smile. "Well, you're not always going to be around for me to use, are you?"

"No," He smirked, pointing out a port, "is that it?"

She shook her head, and so he continued with his previous thought.

"But a Kingsman should take advantage of every possible, uh, advantage." He fumbled slightly, unable to think of a new word as he held up a fist-full of cords for her to search under. She found a port underneath them, and pushed the drive securely inside.

"As for taking advantage of my advantages," She got up onto her knees, using the monitor to begin the data transfer, "I'd reckon I've done pretty well so far, don't you?"

She glanced at him, and he smiled back from the floor. They stayed there for a long moment, and then she turned away to check the computer. He scooted closer to her. Her eyes peeked through their corners at him. He cocked his head slightly, and examined her. She turned to look him directly in the face.

"You alright?" He asked with a concerned frown.

She nodded, "Yeah, of course."

He wasn't quite convinced. "You sure, Jem?"

"Yes, Eggsy." She said lightly, turning back to the computer. "The data transfer's almost done."

"Okay, how much longer?" He asked, taking his eyes away from her. He glanced over at the other screen, beginning to double-check everything she'd done so far.

"About a minute," She said slowly, tapping the table with her nails.

He watched her for a long moment, seeing that she was uncomfortable.

"Jem, you don't need to feel weird about… what just happened." Eggsy said.

"I know." She nodded, not looking at him, "It was part of the mission. I was taking advantage of all my advantages."

Suddenly, there was a sound like a spigot opening. They both jumped, and looked around. In the corner of the room across from them, a vent began to cough out a waterfall of white vapor. They looked at each other.

"Gas!" He cried, bringing his jacket up to cover his mouth and nose. "Cover your mouth, Jem!"

She nodded, hiking up her dress and using the hem as a mask. "It's almost done," She said, her hand on the drive, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

He coughed slightly, "Come on, Jem, hurry—"

He made a small movement with his hand. This caused the sleeve of his coat to slip ever so slightly, and pull the rest of the coat just a bit away from his mouth. He happened to be inhaling just then. He began to choke. Her head jerked towards him. She glanced back at the computer and then yanked the drive out.

"It's done!" She cried through the green fabric.

Eggsy could not breathe. His throat was closing up, and he felt like he hadn't taken a sip of water in years. The world was starting to spin, and he began to slip to the ground. With a crash of whatever his limp hand knocked off the table, he found himself on his back.

"Galahad!" She cried, leaping over to him. She took a deep breath and then let the dress fall down again. She cupped his cheeks with the drive still gripped in her left hand. She shook him slightly, and he blinked a few times, trying to wake up. He didn't feel suffocated anymore, just tired. God, he could just lay down here and take the longest nap.

"No…" He murmured sleepily, "let's just… let's just go to bed…"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" She shouted, having covered her mouth again, "Get up!"

With that, she took his hands and yanked them both up to their feet. She turned, and watched the elevator doors slide open again. Eggsy leaned on her heavily, and she was about to put him down when she was met with the gentler end of a glock.

Jemma's head felt heavy against her collarbone. Her eyes were itchy like maybe a piece of mascara had gotten into them, or some water, perhaps. She began to lift up her hand to rub them but then realized that they could not move. She tried again, and then recognized the all-too familiar feeling of being bound to the chair in which she sat. She froze, panic rising in her chest, and tried to open her eyes. Her head ached. It lolled back onto her shoulders, a tender part of her scalp hitting the back of the metal chair. She groaned, and a voice faded into her ears.

"… Jem,"

The person speaking was across from her. His voice was gentle and kind. She straightened her head as best she could, and looked over. Eggsy was tied to a chair a couple feet in front of her. His suit was tarnished and wearing at the edges. His dirty blonde hair was ruffled and wet, with strands hanging in front of his face.

"There you are." He said softly.

"Where…?" She looked up at the single light above their heads, and tried to move her feet—they were also bound.

"I don't know," Eggsy replied, his eyes hollow, "calm down, okay, we've trained for this."

She became quiet, but her face was still filled with fear. She closed her eyes and let her head fall forwards again. She took a deep breath, and clenched her fists. She swallowed and began to try and put as much force as possible on the ropes holding her. She made a small sound as she tried to free herself.

"Jem, don't—" Eggsy leaned forwards slightly, a concerned look on his stressed features, "—don't do that, you'll only hurt yourself more."

"I can't—" She cried breathily, stopping herself. She took a moment to collect herself, trying not to shout.

"Jem just calm down—" Eggsy began, a shocked look on his face.

"—I can't just sit here and wait for someone to come in here and—" She stopped short, choking slightly on her words.

"Are you alright, Jem?" He asked her after a moment, but she just shook her head. "Jem, what's wrong? You've not panicked like this in training before—"

"—Yeah, well it's a bit different when you're actually in the situation." She replied venomously, glowering at him. "Has—has anyone come in? Do you know where we are?"

"No, no I don't." He shook his head.

"Of course not." She rolled her eyes. "You're the Kingsman here and you can't even keep yourself from getting caught and messing up this mission!"

"Oi! What gives you the right to talk to me like that?" He snapped.

She let out a soft huff, turning away.

"What did I do to upset you?" His voice commanded that she answer him.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie." He said, "You've been avoiding me and acting strange long before this and now you're pretending like nothing happened."

"I said it was nothing!" She snapped, "Will and those other dickheads just—"

She stopped herself and swallowed, avoiding his eyes.

"What?" Eggsy sat forwards slightly, "What did they do?"

She sighed, "He said that I couldn't do anything unless you were there."

"Well that's bullshit and you know it." He rolled his eyes incredulously, "You really think it's somehow my fault that they're all assholes?"

She sighed and looked away, "No."

He sat back in his seat, letting out a small huff of annoyance. She looked up from the ground to him. He was about to continue, but when he saw the look on her face, he shut his mouth and exhaled through his nose.

She was scared. He could see it so clearly that it eclipsed any other reproach he may have had. He did not take this lightly, because he had never seen this particular look on her face. Sure, she'd been nervous, or anxious, but nothing had come close to the sheer terror in her expression now. It was laced with something much sadder though, of which he could not place. She watched him as he elected not to yell at her again.

He sighed again, this time much calmer. He glanced around the room and thought about the possible exits.

"Eggsy," She began, still staring at the ground, "I'm sorry."

He turned to her slowly, a sympathetic frown on his face.

"I just wanted to prove them wrong—prove everyone wrong." She continued softly.

She swallowed and did not lift her eyes. Eggsy watched her for a long moment, waiting for the emotional moment to pass and for her walls to come back up. It didn't pass, though. Nothing in her face hardened to concrete, none of the loose hairs were tossed out of her face, but no tears graced her cheeks either. She seemed to be caught in emotional limbo—so stressed out that she almost broke but so used to solidarity that she did not know how to let herself open up any more. She stayed there, with her head bowed and her breath slow as it came in and out of her open mouth.

Eggsy lifted his head up as the door behind him burst open. Two men came in, one after the other. They were wearing dark jackets, and their faces were weathered and menacing. Jemma craned her head to look at them, raising a brow. Eggsy clenched his jaw slightly, and relaxed. She turned back around, and looked into his eyes. He winked at her.

"Alright then," Eggsy looked up at the men as they walked in between their chairs, "you gonna get on with it?"

The man in charge glared at Eggsy in response. He turned to Jemma, and began speaking, obviously restraining himself. "Who are you?"

She blinked, and then closed her parted lips firmly. Eggsy smiled proudly as she took a breath, and did not answer. The man looked back and forth between them. He raised his arms expectantly, and neither of them spoke. Jemma took the first chance she got to look back down at the ground without making the man think she was afraid of him.

"If one of you does not answer me, I will have to ask Henri to start making you answer me." He said, nodding to the other man. His voice was heavily accented, and Eggsy was trying very hard not to taunt him.

The man turned to Jemma. She took a breath, turning her head further away and glowering at a spot in the distance. He took a step closer to her, and Eggsy's breath caught in his throat.

"Hey, you." The man nodded at Jemma.

She ignored him.

"You will look at me when I speak to you."

She inhaled deeply, forcing the words out of her mouth before she thought better of it. "I'm good, thanks."

"I said," The man took one large step forwards. He gripped the roots of her hair, and jerked her head up.

Eggsy lurched forwards involuntarily.

She closed her eyes as he continued, not flinching as he yanked at her scalp, "look at me when I'm speaking to you!"

"Stop." Eggsy growled as the man turned to look at him.

The man walked around her chair whilst looking at Eggsy, a newfound interest in his eye. He tugged her again, and she groaned, yanking her head away. It was no use; she was still tied to the chair and easy to catch.

This time, the man grabbed her chin and fisted her hair again. "This?"

"You—fucker!" Eggsy spat like a rabid dog, overcome by the anger in his chest and almost jumping out of his chair.

Suddenly, the man doubled over in pain. Eggsy blinked, and realized that Jemma had managed to elbow him in the crotch, even though her hands were tied behind her back. She tossed her hair out of her face, spitting a few loose strands out of her mouth. Their eyes met for a split second, and he could've sworn she smiled at him. Then, out of nowhere, Henri came and slapped her across the face. He hit her so hard that her chair fell over.

"No!" Eggsy bellowed, beginning to writhe in his seat once more.

She let out a low whine, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Eggsy looked at her with desperately wide eyes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He cried, knowing the question didn't really make sense in the circumstances—they were interrogating them, so it was their job to hurt them. He looked up at Henri, and then watched him return to his corner.

"Who do you work for?" The man asked, slowly this time. He eyed Jemma warily, still nervous even though he'd recovered from her attack.

"Fuck off." She spat breathlessly from the floor.

"I'm going to have to agree with her on this one, mate." Eggsy said in his usual snarky manner. He didn't regret anything until the guy punched him really hard, right in the jaw.

"Who do you work for?" The man said, raising his voice again.

"We ain't gonna to tell you shit." Eggsy coughed, receiving another punch to the face, followed by one to his stomach. Jemma looked away, grimacing.

"Who are you, and who do you work for?" The guy bellowed, and Eggsy laughed humorlessly.

"Get fucked, bruv'."

The man proceeded to hit him twice in the face and once more in the stomach. Eggsy groaned, falling back against his chair. Blood fell from his lip and onto his chin

"Shut up, you stupid wanker!" Jemma yelled suddenly, staring at him as he closed his eyes.

The man turned slowly around to look at Jemma, who stared at Eggsy as if she would slap him herself if she weren't tied to a chair. Eggsy laughed breathlessly from where he leaned tiredly onto his chair back.

Without much warning, Henri entered their space again. He kicked her in the stomach. She wheezed, and bent over as best she could while on the floor with all her limbs tied.

"Oi! Stop!" Eggsy bellowed, voice rising.

Henri kicked her again. She tried to cry out in pain, but she couldn't muster it.

"Fuck you!" Eggsy screamed, spewing blood over his collar.

Without much warning, he and the other man picked up Jemma's chair and slammed it back onto all four of it's feet. She was unsteady in her seat, and slumped slightly to the side. Eggsy spat out more blood, watching her choke and catch her breath.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," The man said menacingly, "who do you work for?"

"Sorry, bruv,' you mind repeating that? I couldn't quite understand through the accent." Eggsy peered up through one eye. The man punched him in the face again.

He regretted nothing once more, until the beating didn't stop. Henri joined him, taking turns with the other man. Eggsy caught sight of Jemma sometimes between hits—and heard her anguished, wheezing cries—and he began to rue his impulsive decision to poke fun at their interrogator's accent.

The man stopped suddenly, holding Henri back. Eggsy could hardly feel his face, and his neck felt too weak to hold up his head. It was then that he suddenly felt grateful to the other man for holding him steady by the hair. He made himself look—no matter how much it pained him—as both the men turned to Jemma.

"Quoi?" The man who'd been asking the questions said.

"Je vous ai dit d'arrêter!" She cried, and Eggsy looked at her bewilderedly through his blood-soaked eyelashes. He couldn't speak a word of French, and she'd obviously never had the higher education she deserved, so why the hell could she speak the language so well? "Vous ne trouverez jamais les informations que vous cherchez—c'est une entreprise insensée!"

The man frowned, obviously confused. Eggsy's eyes flickered back and forth between the two, the man letting go of his hair. "Qui êtes-vous?"

"Laissez-nous partir maintenant et vous pourriez vous vous en tirer avec votres vies." She said threateningly.

"What're you—" Eggsy interrupted for a moment, when she turned on him just as fast.

"Silence!" She shouted in a French accent.

"Vous avez oublié qui est en possession du pistolet içi." The man replied, pulling a gun out of his coat, and pressing it to Eggsy's forehead.

"Oh," Eggsy gasped, scooting back in his seat.

"Vous avez dix secondes pour nous dire les informations que nous voulons, ou je vais le tuer!"

"Non!" She looked frantically back and forth between the gun to Eggsy's hazel eyes. "S'il vous plait—!"

"—Un!" The man snapped.

"Jem, don't tell him anything—" Eggsy began, not needing a French translator to understand what was happening here.

"—Deux."

"Eggsy—" She almost whined, looking at him desperately.

"—Trois."

"It's gonna be alright, Jem, just—"

"—Quatre." The man interrupted.

She shook her head, holding back a look of panic.

"Cinq." He cocked the gun, and Eggsy kept his eyes on Jemma.

"Please—" She murmured, on the verge of tears.

"—Six—"

"—Does that make six already?" Eggsy smiled sadly, and then winced as the man pushed the gun further into his forehead.

"Sept."

"It's gonna be okay Jem—"

"—Huit."

"Eggsy," She looked at him sadly, "I can't—"

"—Neuf!"

"You're alright, you ain't done nothing wrong, everything's gonna be alright Jem—" Eggsy said quickly, trying to be reassuring.

"—Dix."

"—I promise—" Eggsy barely finished the phrase before the gun went off.

Jemma flinched so violently her chair tipped onto it's back two feet. The chair slammed down again onto all fours as a heavy silence filled the air. She stared, slack-jawed, sore, and pale, at Eggsy's unmoving form. His head was laying limply on the top of his chair back.

She let out a heavy, pitiful breath she'd been holding. She began hyperventilating after this, unable to stop looking at his body. She lifted her eyes to the man. He still had the gun clasped in his hand. He raised the pistol once more, pointing it directly at her forehead.

"Last chance." He said darkly, continuing in French and cocking the gun once more, "Tell me who you are working for."

She stared at him for a long moment. Her face slowly contorted into an incredulous frown, her whole body shaking with rage.

"You son of a bitch." Her voice was ominously slow, replying to him in the same language. "You think I'm going to tell you anything?"

"Is that your final answer?"

"Look at me!" She bellowed suddenly, "You've just lost your only bargaining chip."

"You still have your life left to lose, do you not?"

She scowled up at him, seemingly scandalized by this idea, "You think I give a damn about my life?"

"Most people do fear death, yes." He replied evenly.

She swallowed, "I'm not afraid of dying and you don't scare me at all, you psycho."

He stepped closer to her and bent down, leaving only inches between their noses. "What are you scared of then?"

She looked back and forth between his dark brown eyes.

"I pray to god you never meet him." She breathed.

He stepped back and adjusted his grip on the gun. She took a long, calming breath; closing her eyes as she inhaled and staring back at the barrel evenly as she exhaled.

"Goodbye, whoever you are." He said.

She stared at the man for a moment and then turned to look at Eggsy's body again. She took a shaky breath, and tears spat out onto her cheeks silently. The man pulled the trigger, and she didn't stop staring at Eggsy.