1997

PROLOGUE.

1997

Harry Hart hated snow.

And Russia had a lot of it. They were up to their knees in snow, the thermal technology of their suits doing little to combat the icy wind stinging his cheeks. The Verkhoyansk Mountains were beautiful, jagged peaks of granite covered in deep emerald trees crystallized by frost, but they were also really fucking cold.

"I bloody hate snow," muttered Harry viciously, smacking a frozen pine branch.

A chunk of ice fell free, smacking him on the head. Harry jumped and swore loudly. He rubbed his forehead, which was already aching, and glared up at the snowy trees looming over his head. Next to him, Kilian Castillo tried to turn his head to hide the smirk on his face while balancing the enormous assault rifle in his gloved hands.

"Shut up, Castillo. I can hear you laughing. Do I have to remind you that this is a mission?" asked Harry, wiping the snow off his glasses, and praying to god they weren't ruined. Merlin would shoot him if they were.

"Mission against who? Mother Nature? Because she's winning, old man," chuckled Castillo.

Harry could hear his American accent, tinged with the Mexican accent that still lingered.

There was huge grin on his face, the bright white of his teeth gleaming against his tanned skin. Castillo was always smiling, that asshole. It was hard to believe he was twenty-three, with his dimpled cheeks and curly brown hair poking out from under his hood.

"Stop calling me old man. I'm only thirty," groaned Harry, pulling his hood down further over his ears with the hand that wasn't holding the TT33 Tokarev pistol.

"Thirty, flirty, and thriving?"

"Honestly, Castillo, I wish I could just-"

"Punch me in the face? You've tried. I'd block it."

"No, I would-"

"Shoot me? Bulletproof vest, bitch."

"Bloody hell, Castillo," grumbled Harry. "Training you was the worst mistake I've ever made."

Castillo stopped for moment, the crunching sound of his boots in the snow fading.

"Nah," he said. "Becoming best friends with me was the worst mistake you've ever made, old man."

He winked at Harry, then continued pushing aside the icy branches with the tip of his gun, trekking through the snow. Harry muttered a couple of half-hearted threats underneath his breath before stumbling forward in attempt to catch up with Castillo. Maybe he was getting old.

"So, how's the baby?" asked Harry. "And...Pat," he added as an afterthought, feeling the name leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

Castillo's wife wasn't his favorite person.

Castillo sighed slightly.

"She wants Rebecca's last name to be Alden, like her. Says Castillo doesn't sound right. Too ethnic for London or something. She's lucky I love her so much."

Harry stayed quiet, trying not to blurt out what he thought of Patricia Alden. He didn't understand how someone so unpleasant could end up with the happiest man he'd ever met.

Harry had always thought Kilian was the perfect name for him. It meant blind, and he was certainly blind when it came to Pat. Castillo deserved so much more than to come home to harsh words and slammed doors every night. And yet, he looked at Patricia like she was the sun, the stars, and everything in between.

Love was funny that way.

"But Rebecca's doing amazing. Did you know she said her first word a couple months ago? Monkey, if you can believe it," he laughed. "She loves the monkeys at the zoo."

Harry noticed the way his eyes lit up whoever he talked about his daughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling and his hands waving wildly. Kilian Castillo was one of those people who's heart could never be tainted, filled with nothing but love for his family. Harry wondered if he'd ever feel that way, ever settle down and trade in bullets for baby bottles.

Probably not, he thought, feeling envious of Castillo.

There was just too much red in his ledger. Too many people dead because of him, too many nights he lay awake, too many enemies still out there. He couldn't bring a child into all that.

"You know, when I married Pat I didn't think I'd ever love anyone as much as I loved her. But then Rebecca came along."

There was soft smile on Castillo's face as he looked up at the bright blue sky.

Harry wiped a bit of melted snow off his face. Castillo peered over at him.

"Hey, man. You crying?"

"No, I'm not bloody crying-"

"Hey, it's okay. This is a safe place. Let it all out."

"There was snow, dammnit!"

"Whatever you say, old man. Whatever you say."

Harry bent down and threw a chunk of snow at Castillo, chuckling when he shrieked, clawing it out of his snowsuit. He danced around in a circle, trying frantically to get the ice out of his jacket. As Harry laughed, he knew Castillo was wrong.

Becoming his best friend wasn't a mistake at all.

☂

Only an hour later, Harry Hart was left staring down at the worst mistake he had ever made.

He was frozen, but it wasn't because of the snow swirling around him or the cold seeping through his jacket and into his bones. It was a different kind of numbness. It seized his muscles and crept into his brain, leaving him motionless and unable to look at anything other than the horrible bright crimson of blood against snow.

He was on his knees, kneeling over Castillo's small, crumpled form. There blood everywhere, leaking onto the ground and staining his gloves. Harry swallowed the panic rising in his throat and threatening to choke him, pressing his hands to the torn flesh on Castillo's chest.

"Castillo, you idiot. What were you thinking?" said Harry in a hoarse whisper.

The man below him, not much more than a boy, laughed weakly.

"I was thinking about saving your life. When I said I'd take a bullet for you, old man, I really did mean it."

Harry swore loudly. If only Castillo had just stayed where he was supposed to be, instead of throwing himself in front of the speeding the bullet meant for Harry.

Harry, not him.

Harry should've been the one with a piece of metal lodged in his chest, bleeding out onto the snow. Their mission had been simple. So simple Harry didn't even think double-check the thermal radiation scanner to check for enemy life-forms. He didn't even see the sniper hidden up above until something warm and solid was slamming into him and pushing him out of the way. Harry had fired back a few rounds, then grabbed Castillo by the elbow and dragged him back into the protective covering of the trees. He hadn't even noticed the wound until the blood was seeping through Castillo's white coat.

"You know this is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, right? I'm going to blame myself for years to come," said Harry.

He tried to sound teasing, but his voice cracked at the end and there was something wet on his cheeks. He was crying. Whipping off his glasses, he swiped furiously at the icy tears sliding down his face.

"I'm counting on it. And you can bet your ass I'm coming back to haunt you. If you ever catch some freaky shit happening, that's me."

Harry couldn't tell if the noises coming from his mouth were laughs or sobs. Both, maybe.

"Shot through the heart," Castillo commented, straining to look down at his chest. "My mom use to say I'd die of a broken heart when I first started dating Pat. Guess she was sort of right."

His head fell back against the snow, his face twisted with pain. "Mother knows best, right?"

Harry shook his head. "You said you had bulletproof vest on," said Harry desperately.

"I was joking. Looking back, a bulletproof vest would've been a good idea, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it would've. But we can't change the past, I guess."

"No, we can't. But we still have the future, Harry. We always have the future."

His words were coming in short pants now, punctuated by sharp gasps of pain. His face was unnaturally pale, his bright brown eyes shining with tears despite his teasing words. Castillo reached up, gripping Harry's wrist tightly.

"Hey. Hey, tell Pat, okay? I-I want her to hear it from you. A-and Rebecca, make sure she r-remembers me. I don't-" He drew in a shuddering breath. "I don't want her to ever forget me.

Harry nodded, choking back a sob.

"I will. I will. And god, Castillo. No one could ever forget you."

"H-hey," he said, voice barely a whisper. "See you on the other side, Galahad. Thanks for b-being my best friend, old man."

"Thanks for being mine, Lancelot."

Then his grip on Harry's wrist slackened, falling to the ground with a muffled thump. Kilian Castillo's eyelids flustered a few times before closing completely, forever. Harry let out a choked sob, allowing his shoulders to slump forward in defeat.

"I'm sorry," breathed Harry. "I'm so sorry."

It taken three years to train Castillo completely to take Lancelot's place. It had taken six weeks for the two to become best friends. But it had only taken a moment for the bullet to pierce his chest and leach the life out of him. A flash of silver and a bang, and he was gone. Now Harry was left behind with nothing but the echo of a gunshot in his ears and a heart full of regret.

He stood up slowly, numbness already replacing the sorrow that filled his entire being. He had a new mission now: to tell Castillo's wife and daughter about their loss. One more name to add to the ever-growing list of casualties, one more family ripped away from ripped away from their loved one, one more tiny hole in Harry's heart.

He was afraid that soon, it would be filled with so many holes that the whole thing would just crumble and fall apart. But if there was one thing that he was certain of in that moment, it was that he would do everything in his power to make sure Rebecca Alden never felt the same.

☂

"Pat. Pat, please listen to me. Your husband was a hero. He sacrificed himself to save me," said Harry, trying desperately to console the the petite, blond woman crying on the couch next to him.

He knew the sound of her ragged sobs all too well. He had been hearing the same sounds coming from his own mouth for the past week.

She had been sitting with her head in her hands, but when he said those words she tuned to face him accusingly, her eyes shining with tears.

"Bloody waste," she spat. "His life for yours. Seems like a pretty shitty trade to me."

"I know," he sighed heavily, fingers clenching the soft, bottle-green corduroy of the couch underneath him. "Believe me, I know. But believe this. Your husband was a hero."

"I didn't want him to be a hero. I didn't ask him to get himself killed. I just wanted him to be my husband," she hissed. "God, what am I supposed to do now? Raise her all on my own?"

Patricia pointed to the small child sitting on the carpet, clad in a bright red jumper that matched her rosy cheeks. Rebecca. She looked just like her father, with bright brown eyes the same color as the downy curls on her head. She was grinning, and he could see the gaps where her teeth hadn't come in yet.

It made his heart ache.

Rebecca was seated on a quilt, sloppily sewn together out of every fabric imaginable. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Castillo had made it himself. The room was warm, and softly lit with yellow light. There were Christmas decorations hanging from the wall, homemade snowflakes and paper stars. Above the stove there was a calendar, covered in Kilian's messy handwriting. On December twenty-first it said 'get Christmas tree! :)'. Two days after he was supposed to return. The corner of the room where it would've stood was empty and bare, making Harry's chest tighten.

"You won't have to raise her all on your own. I'll help. I'll do whatever I can to-"

"No," Pat cut in.

Harry turned to face her in shock. "What?"

"You won't. I don't want you in our lives. You've done enough damage," she said, every word laced with venom.

"Pat, please-"

"No."

"At least take this, then," said Harry quietly, fumbling for the ring in his pocket.

It was small and gold, emblazoned with the mark of a Kingsman.

"I-If you ever need anything at all, you can just call the number stamped on here. Tell them 'Oxfords, not brogues', and I'll know it's you."

Patricia pushed his hand away as if the ring had burned her.

"Give it to someone else," she said dully. "I don't want any more reminders."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He got up off the couch and went over to Rebecca, kneeling down beside her.

"Don't touch her," Pat said harshly.

"I'm just saying goodbye. I just want to say goodbye, and then I'll be gone."

"For good?"

He nodded, although the dull ache in his chest was steadily becoming unbearable.

"For good."

Rebecca looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent, unaware of the grief that surrounded her home like a dark, smothering blanket. She smiled when she saw him, clapping her pudgy hands together.

"Hello, Rebecca. I'm Harry."

"Hi, Hawwy," she said, syllables mashed together in her tiny voice. "No Rebecca."

"What?" asked Harry, his eyebrows coming together in confusion.

"I don't like it," she said, shaking her soft curls. "Bad name."

He smiled. "No? How about a nickname? What do you think of Becky?"

She made a face, scrunching up her nose and shaking her head.

"How about...Bex?" he tried.

Her eyes lit up and she waved her chubby arms. "Bexth! Bexth!" she squealed in delight, lisping the words together.

"Well, then, Bex, I want you to have this," said Harry, placing the ring in her tiny hand.

She stared at it in wonderment, marveling at the way the light glinted off the gold.

"Take care of this for me. And...take care of your mother, alright? I know your father would've wanted that."

"Daddy?" she asked, looking up.

"No. No, Daddy's gone. He's not here anymore. But he loved you more than anything, and don't ever forget that."

Harry tried to disguise the way his voice trembled. He pressed a small kiss to her forehead, then stood up. He walked away until he paused in the doorway.

There was a piece of blue paper tacked above the door. It was thin, cheap paper, covered in Castillo's scrawl. Harry could barely make it what it said.

It's not the way you fall. It's the way you land.

"Bye, Bex," whispered Harry. "If you ever fall, do your Daddy a favor and land on both feet, okay? And get back up. Always get back up."

And with that he walked out on the shattered remains of a once complete family, shutting the door quietly.

──────

a quick note:

hey pals! just dropped in to write some crappy fanfiction after watching this movie. this is officially my first edited chapter, and if you read the original version you'll know that i'm changing things around a lot. things will probably get a little more touchy-feely like this chapter mostly. i bummed myself out writing this prologue like why cant hartillo to skip off into the russian sunset and be happy??

oh right i killed castillo lmao my bad

WARNING: this book is going to have a shitload of swearing. if you're uncomfortable with profanity, i suggest getting out fast before i offend you. also, there will be violence.

(if this is your second time reading this because the first version wasn't awful enough to scare you away, what do you think? thank you for sticking with me btw i honestly love you guys so much)