A man who could dodge a bullet should have been able to evade Eggsy's clumsy embrace, a far more dangerous weapon, but his body and heart were at odds and refused to cooperate. The English wool of Harry's suit both flame retardant and resistant to ballistics, but did very little to protect him from the warmth of Eggsy's arms or the wet of his tears.

Christ. There was no tactic, manual or rule for this- at least none he would feel right following.

Harry was a lone wolf for good reason. His work was dangerous, and his work was his life. He had made the mistake of recruiting a good man with a wife and child once, and after experiencing the devastation caused by his loss first-hand Harry had quickly sobered to any whimsical thoughts of a family to call his own.

"I'm sorry, Eggsy." His voice was hoarse even to his own ears, and without thinking he found himself patting the boy's back. Soothing him on instinct, with no regard to protocol or training.

If this was anything like what it felt like to be a father he could understand why one might give up a life of jet-setting, intrigue and excitement to settle down and live mundanely.

Was it a blessing or a curse that placed them in the thick of things, side by side? Death on the job was inevitable. Eggsy was right for the role of a Kingsman, entirely worthy of both Harry's respect and trust, but...

He shook his head with a low, tired sigh. What was done was done, and he couldn't let the shock of his own end sway what he knew to be right.