Work Text:
Today, the rain was falling from the cloudy sky. It wasn’t something unusual in London, but it never worked well to improve Mycroft’s mood. Like every other day since the last few years, he took the way to the Tower of London, not even caring to say a proper goodbye to the people he was working with. Walking fast to avoid getting wet, or maybe because he was eager to see him, he climbed the stairs. In front of the guarded door, he stopped, hesitating. The guards long stopped caring about him, not sparing him a single glance nor saying a word to him. Finally, he knocked at the door, knowing very well it was useless. As usual, the room was dark, the light of the evening barely enough. Mycroft lit up a few candles then took a better look at the man sitting there. His brown hair was way longer than when he first came in and he didn’t bother styling them anymore. He didn’t bother anything, actually.
“ Hello, Albert. How are you today? “
Every day he asked the same question, and every day he would be answered by a heavy silence. He stopped waiting for words a long time ago. It has become a routine now. He came closer, not really knowing what he was looking for on the other man’s face. A light in his dark green eyes, a reaction on his face, anything that would prove that Albert was still there, somewhere. But as usual, there was nothing. With a sigh, he sat behind him and took the comb that never moved from the table. With hands that memorized the moves repeated hundreds of times, he combed his silky hair delicately, making sure he wouldn’t hurt him, even if sometimes he wanted to hurt him, just a little, just to draw a reaction from him.
“ Your hair is growing longer and longer… I would trim it, but I don’t know if you want me to. “
A silence.
“ I don’t want to do anything you wouldn’t want… “
Mycroft always left a blank between each of his sentences, as if he was imagining what kind of answer Albert would give.
“ They are starting to be a bit greasy… we should take a bath tomorrow, shouldn’t we? “
“ … “
“ Today, we started working on a new case. Do you want to know what James did? “
“ … “
“ They were supposed to operate quietly, but he made a mess because the man they were following started harassing a woman… This is very likely of him, don’t you think?”
“ .... “
“ I couldn’t really be mad, but I still had to pretend I was upset. Miss Moneypenny was also struggling to keep a serious face when I was lecturing them… “
Once he was done, he placed the comb back on the table, but kept his hands on the other’s shoulder, drawing small circles with his thumbs.
“ Albert… won’t you look at me? I’m right there… Don’t you remember us? I know a lot has changed… But did I mean anything for you, once? Do I still exist, somewhere in your mind? “
And as usual, like every other day, only the sound of the rain filled the silence. It reminded Mycroft something he saw in a book not long ago.
“ If I were the rain that binds together the heavens and the earth, whom in all eternity will never mingle, would I be able to bind two hearts together? “
He let his face fall on the other’s shoulder. Never would he have guessed that one day silence would be so painful.
Another day. Another silence. This time, the weather was great and Mycroft wanted to try something. After the usual combing routine, he gathered the hair in a low ponytail, tying them with a green velvet ribbon. Then he pulled out what he brought in a bag and placed it on the table, alongside two glasses. He presented the bottle to Albert.
“ Hey, I brought your favorite wine. I questioned your friend to be sure, I can’t be mistaken. “
Mycroft didn’t expect an answer yet. He opened the bottle and poured the red liquid in the glasses, watching carefully the other’s reactions. He held the glass under Albert’s nose, knowing the strong aroma could be smelt perfectly.
“ Let’s have a drink, Albert. It’s been a while… Do you remember the first time we saw each other, not as coworkers? “
Still nothing. Anger, sadness, sorrow, guilt, resentment. All these feelings built up in Mycroft were starting to grow stronger and stronger. He always tried to put a lid on all these emotions. But today, the lid couldn’t contain it anymore. He exploded, the glass of wine crashing on the opposite wall with a shattering sound, leaving a red mark and glass everywhere.
“ Why won’t you look at me? Why? Why am I not enough, Albert? I’m tired. I’m tired of being alone. All of this…. because of him. You don’t know how much I hate him, Albert. He took everything from me. He took my little brother. He took Sebastian. And he took you. Why am I the only one left? He’s so selfish and cruel, leaving me like that. What am I supposed to do, now? I didn’t… I didn’t even get the chance to tell you… that I loved you… “
The silence was suffocating. Mycroft suddenly felt like he was lacking air. Or maybe this usually happens when you let out your feelings? Mycroft wouldn’t know. But for now, he needed to leave the room.
“ I’m leaving, Albert. “
This time, his voice was low. He whispered as if he was afraid of his own voice earlier.
“ I’m sorry that I bothered you… I’m sorry Albert. “
There was so much more that he wanted to say. That he was sorry he couldn’t confess his feelings when he was still able to. He was sorry that he wasn’t strong enough to save Albert. He was sorry that he couldn’t prevent the death of their brothers. Maybe, if he didn’t let Sherlock catch William by himself… maybe if he did it himself, not caring about his brother’s feelings… If…
Leave. He needed to leave. Emptying his glass in one go, he left the room quickly. Not before asking the guards to clean the broken glass. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He could never forget the only reaction Albert even showed. He would never forget all the blood on the floor when he came to visit him that day. He would never forget the feeling in his chest as he held Albert, screaming for help. He would never forget the tears that usually would never be seen running on his face twisted in a desperate grimace. Every day, he would see the not completely faded scars on his wrists, a reminder that he failed on so many levels. Sometimes, he wondered: was he cruel to refuse to let Albert go? But every time, his sense of duty was stronger. He couldn’t die. He needed to atone for his crimes. His sense of duty… or what he was trying to convince himself.
Another day… Another silence.
Mycroft managed to compose himself as if the outburst from the day before never happened, only the reddish mark on the wall was a witness of his emotions.
“ Hello Albert, how are you today? “
A bird entered the room, its white feathers flying. A smile. Just the corner of his lips slightly raising. But still a smile. And a hoarse voice.
“ I’m good, thank you. “