The Secret Service [KINGSMAN]

xii. INTERLUDE

TWELVE.
INTERLUDE

It was getting colder.

The sun made rare appearances, but for the most part the sky churned with gray clouds that boiled over into a fine layer of mist that clung to everything. Snow began to dust their rifles during target practices, and early morning runs were infinitely hazardous because of the slippery ice on the paths. At night, fires lit the rooms and the candidates snuggled under flannel blankets, but in the morning they were forced back out into the frost and icy winds. Merlin was an unstoppable force, only postponing their nighttime missions once Roxy wound up in the hospital wing with hypothermia from the below-zero temperatures.

The months were quickly slipping into winter, and Harry still hadn't woken up.

Bex visited when she could. After weeks of her and Eggsy devising new and increasingly elaborate plans to sneak in to see him, Merlin had given up and granted them visitation rights. Sometimes Eggsy came with her, and they sat by his side together. Those visits weren't so bad. The ones that hurt were the ones where when she sat alone, silent except for the beeping of the heart monitor, wondering if he was ever going to wake up at all.

Instead of worrying, she threw herself into training. Between Merlin's constant exams and combat sessions, she barely had time to breathe, nevertheless think about Harry. She collapsed into bed every night exhausted and covered in new bruises, but it was worth it. She could feel herself drawing closer and closer to the finish line.

Christmas was coming to the complex as well. Rose had strung lights over every available surface, laced the hallways with holly, and stuck bows to all their pistols. There was a little tree next to her computer, decorated with pieces of metal and circuit boards. She had even placed menorahs into every alcove.

"That way no one will feel left out," she had explained brightly, placing a sprig of mistletoe tied with a red ribbon over Bex's cot.

Bex had ripped it down with a glare.

She didn't celebrate Christmas. She hadn't since her dad died. Last Christmas had been mopping up her mother's vomit after she had stumbled home and passed out, the Christmas before she had been in a cell, and before that she had spent the night in the freezing snow after her mother had locked her out. Christmas was childish. And Bex had stopped being a child a long time ago.

Still, for the first time, it was hard not to get in the holiday spirit. The kitchens had started serving hot apple cider and latkes, and Roxy smuggled Christmas cookies out for Bex and Rose almost daily. The normally gloomy hallways glowed with warm light, and space had been cleared out in the bunker for an enormous tree that dripped with frosted tinsel and glass ornaments. Merlin had given them Christmas Day off, and Bex swore she had heard him whistling carols in the hall the other day.

When Christmas morning finally arrived, Bex woke up to an elbow in her face. She opened her eyes groggily and found a blur of black hair and what looked like a very ugly bathmat sitting on her chest. Something sharp was poking her in the stomach, and the bed was shaking. Bex yelped.