Music is "Darkest Hour" by Lyves.

Picture is Katie McGrath as Clementine aka Lancelot.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: No Flags

{July 28, 1981 -- Thirty-Three Years Ago}

"SHIELD has been planning an op during the royal wedding for six bloody months?"

The volume of my voice cause Alexander to cringe. "That is what I just told you."

I cross my arms, pacing the length of the hotel suite. Galahad sits calmly in the leather chair across from Pierce, sipping a cup of Earl Grey. Both men are peaceful about the things Alexander's just revealed; it seems that I'm the only one reacting at all to the things SHIELD has kept.

"So you lied to me when you said you were coming to the wedding to spend time with me," I spit. "And you lied when you said you called Rose." He nods. "Why?"

"Because I needed a cover," he states plainly. "SHIELD has been planning this operation for six months after we discovered a threat to the prince and his bride. We assumed it was HYDRA."

"You were right," Galahad finally speaks, finishing off his cup of tea. "We discovered the threat around the same time. However, we knew it was HYDRA because of..." His eyes flicker over to me. "Well, because we were compromised in our ranks."

"Yes, who are you, again?"

"I never said, Mister Pierce," Galahad gives a smile that says he knows more than he's saying. "My organization is known as the Kingsman. We operate in Europe."

Pierce stares Galahad down, evaluating him. "I've never heard of you."

Galahad's smile widens. "Brilliant."

I roll my eyes and bring the conversation back to what it's supposed to be about. "Why did you need to use me as cover?"

Alexander's eyes flicker over to me. "I didn't need to use you as a cover, but I knew you would understand the necessity if I were to tell you. The safety of the royal monarchy is in everyone's best interest."

"Then what was your plan?" I ask. "SHIELD's, I mean."

Galahad place his teacup on the table in front of him. "Please, enlighten us."

Pierce looks between both of us and sighs in defeat. "SHIELD was planning on infiltrating the wedding party itself. We have a clergy in play, several guards, reporters, and people like me were invited to the wedding itself."

"How many people in play?"

"Twenty, not including those stationed outside the church, outside Buckingham Palace, or along the travel routes. Including those? A couple hundred."

"Are you in command?" Galahad asks.

Alexander shakes his head. "I'm stationed in Bogota. I have no experience in Europe. I'm here as a guest. I was only given the details of this mission from Peggy Carter herself. She thought it would be helpful if I were in on the mission parameters."

"So, who is running the mission?"

Alexander shrugs. "I don't know. Carter didn't tell me that much. Compartmentalization, you know the deal."

I sigh, taking a seat across from Alexander. "The Kingsman and SHIELD need to work together on this. If we don't, we'll end up tripping over each other's feet while HYDRA gets their way." He gives me a look of hesitation, but I insist further. "Trust me, Alexander. You can trust the Kingsman."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because they saved my life. Galahad saved me from a HYDRA agent who was sent to the hotel to kill me. If it weren't for him, I'd be lying in one of my immortality comas right now and useless to the mission."

"And who is 'we'?" Pierce asks, his tone nearly accusatory. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at me. "Who are you fighting for, Emma? For SHIELD, or for the Kingsman? For America, or for Britain? Whose flag do you fly?"

I clench my jaw and narrow my eyes at him. Something Johann Schmidt said to Steve and I in the Valkyrie comes back to me. "I have seen the future. There are no flags."

"I fly the flag of freedom and peace," I tell him. "Killing Charles and Diana will send the world into chaos. There are no flags when it comes to peace."

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Galahad and I spend that afternoon getting Alexander Pierce up to date on what we know. In turn, Alexander shares with us what SHIELD knows. The main advantage we have now is that the Kingsman and SHIELD are working together. Our forces have combined, our knowledge is compounded. We don't have much more to go on that we already knew, but it's a start.

After a few hours of that, Alexander leaves to meet with the SHIELD center in London. "I have to tell whoever's in charge about this information," he said as he left the hotel room. "I suggest you do the same."

When we leave the building, Merlin is still parked outside waiting for us. I see him playing some sort of video game on the Kingsman clipboard, one he swiftly hides when we approach. "Well, that took bloody forever!" he exclaims, Scottish accent strong.

Galahad slides easily into the passenger's seat while I take the seat directly behind Merlin. "We got what we needed."

Merlin nods, showing him the clipboard he was just holding. This time, it shows audio recordings and notes from our conversations with Pierce. "I know. I recorded it all through your communication device and sent the files and my notes to Arthur. He told us to make it back to base as soon as we can." Merlin looks over his shoulder to me, giving me a grin. "Well done, lassie."

The drive back to the mansion is silent. Each of us is distracted by our own thoughts. Mine focus on the events of tomorrow. Tomorrow is the wedding. Tomorrow decides whether or not the royal family remains alive.

Merlin parks the car in the garage. When I enter the mansion for the second time, I realize how truly empty this place is. Our footsteps and Merlin's voice echoes down the halls, as if we were the only ones here.

"Arthur told me he'd be attending the wedding," Merlin states. "He's going to be near Pierce to keep an eye on him."

"Why would you need to spy on Alexander?" I ask, confused. "He's the one that's going to convince SHIELD to work together."

Merlin looks at Galahad, then to me again. "We've learned in the past that it's better if we watch both friends and enemies, lassie. It's nothing against him personally. It's just..."

At his loss for words, Galahad speaks up. "We can't take another diversion from HYDRA."

"Alexander Pierce is not HYDRA," I laugh at the thought. "He's my friend. He helped me save children in the 60s, for God's sake!"

Galahad sighs, adjusting his thick glasses. "If I may, the 60s were a long time ago. He may have changed since then, just like you've changed, Sergeant Barnes."

A beep on Merlin's clipboard interrupts the conversation. He reads whatever notification he got, then turns to his companion. "Clem is here, and she's not very happy."

Galahad rolls his brown eyes with a scoff. "Is she ever?"

"Who's Clem?"

Galahad replies, "Clementine, or just Clem. She's our chosen Lancelot to replace the old I killed. The one that was a HYDRA agent, recall?" I nod. "This is her final test before she becomes a Kingsman agent."

"She's my age," Merlin states with a grimace. "But she's a hard-ass. She doesn't like playing games."

"She sounds like someone I'd rather like," I chuckle, much to the boy's dismay.

The garage door opens once again, and a young woman around Merlin's age enters the room. She walks with the fury of an oncoming storm, her light eyes thunderous. Clem has her long, dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she's just as impeccably dressed in a tailored suit as every other Kingsman agent I've met.

She storms up to Galahad with her mouth formed into a firm line. "I was undercover in Glasgow," she says to him in an Irish accent. "Arthur wouldn't tell me what's going on over the com." She turns her gaze to me, as if just realizing my presence. "Who's the new girl?"

Galahad turns to introduce us. "Clem, this is Sergeant Emma Barnes. She's from America. She's here to help with the mission."

Clem nods to me, a greeting. "Which I still am in the dark about. I assume it has something to do with the royal wedding?" Merlin nods. "Will someone please fill me in?"

Merlin grins smugly at her and waves her along. "C'mon, lassie. You're not Lancelot yet."

As the two youngest Kingsman leave the room, I turn back to Galahad with a sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at me, asking, "Are you okay?"

I nod, turning to walk towards the kitchen where, just twelve hours before, Galahad and I had a soul-searching conversation over an English breakfast. However, at this hour, I'm much more likely to want alcohol than tea. "I'm fine. Something Alexander said just got under my skin is all."

I enter the kitchen and search through the refrigerator. Without needing a verbal announcement of what I'm searching for, Galahad tells me, "We have a bottle of Irish whiskey in the very back."

I find said bottle and tug it from the refrigerator. I find two glasses from the cupboard and pop open the bottle. "Want one?" I ask Galahad.

The agent leans against the island, nodding his head. "Don't mind if I do."

I pour each of us a small glass of whiskey, placing a large ball of ice from the icebox into the honey-colored liquid. I shake the glass slightly, stirring it, then hand Galahad his. While he takes only a small sip, I down my first cup in seconds.

"What did he say that's driven you to down alcohol that fast?"

I place the glass onto the counter with a clank, already pouring myself another. "He asked me where my loyalties lie, 'whose flag I flew.' It...It reminded me of something Johann Schmidt told me right before Steve died."

Galahad leans in closer, listening. "What did he say?"

"He said that he had seen the future, that there were no flags." I stop talking long enough to take a small sip of my second glass of Irish whiskey. "I've lived a long time, Galahad. I've seen a lot. I've fought for what I thought was right, but sometimes those things caused my loyalties to waver. I was born in London, moved to America when I was nine, then spent most of my adult life in Europe either fighting the War or fighting the remnants of HYDRA. I thought I knew where my loyalties lie now, but..." I trail off, finishing my second glass. "I don't think I've ever flown under just one flag. I've lived too many places, done too many things. And I hate it that Johann Schmidt was right."

Galahad tilts his head slightly. "Why is that? It's not a bad thing to change, Emma. Everyone changes overtime."

I close my eyes and sigh. "But I've changed too much. I've become a shell of the girl I was in Brooklyn, with Steve and Rose and Bucky...I'm not me anymore. Who I am now, I--I don't think Steve or Bucky would even recognize me. I was...a hero then. I'd like to think I was, anyways. I'm not now. You were wrong when you said I didn't give myself enough credit for what I've done. I'm no hero."

Galahad places his empty glass on the counter. He walks over to take the bottle from my hands, silently telling me I've had enough to drink. Perhaps he's right. I can feel the alcohol loosening my tongue, letting me say things I may never have admitted otherwise. My demons are my own; I don't lightly share them, especially with strangers.

When he takes my empty glass, his voice comes out in a soft whisper. "I can't decide whether or not your actions were wrong. That decision is between you and whoever you call god. But I can tell you one thing, Emma, as someone on the outside looking in: Steve and Bucky would have changed just as much if they'd endured what you have. War changes people, even Steve and Bucky, and you've been in constant wartime since the 1940s. I fear you've put them too high on a pedestal because they're gone and you're still here. You blame yourself for both their deaths and for your continual living. It's called survivor's guilt, and it is a very real thing."

Galahad leans behind him to place the bottle back in the refrigerator. "Maybe Johann Schmidt was right, maybe he wasn't. But he's dead now, and the only thing left from him is the words you keep playing in your head. And I have to believe that change is good because it is constant and there is nothing we can do about it."

He lays his hand over mine, causing me to look up at him. His brown eyes are kind, gentle, something I haven't seen from strangers in a long while. "Don't let the words of a mad-man dictate how you feel about yourself. Change doesn't have to be bad, it can be brilliant. I know Steve and Bucky would see it that way, too. Every day is a brand new start. Use tomorrow to begin yours." As he turns to leave, he looks over his shoulder and utters a final sentence. "And I happen to think this Emma is pretty damn lovely."

END CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: No Flags.