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The first few nights had been cold.
But even before all that’s transpired, and his imprisonment, there were times that sleep do not come easily to him- Albert James Moriarty.
Stonewalls, creaking floorboards, and aging woodwork. There was no fireplace, no warm tea, not even a droplet of aged fine wine. The room was humble, empty, unadorned with only a small window as his sole connection to view the outside world- a mighty far cry from the lifestyle he’d been born and used to. Carriages, lavishing furniture, velvet carpets, huge, spotless glass windows with heavy, intricate curtains. . . Full course meals, porcelains, and expensive wine. . .
A lifestyle many commoners would envy.
But it truly wasn’t the comfort of those things that he missed. It was the warmth of home, the faces of his family- the family he had chosen.
They were not at all bad, but he hadn’t really tasted any of the food though he’d eaten every single meal that was given to him. Everything had tasted nothing. Bland and unappetizing. For this was not home, and his heart was elsewhere.
He’d always look out the small window for there was nothing in the room to see, gazing at the progress of sunset to twilight, till the moon and stars hung one by one. Then he’d wait for sunrise at the crack of dawn as it bring color towards a brand new day- even watching with quiet wonder at the sight of birds passing by, freely cutting through the skies, their wings large, magnificent, and strong.
The only thing he can do right now, was to look up at the same distant sky over and over again. Inside this tower where time had stopped even as the world outside mercilessly keep turning, and turning, and turning. . .
And so, another day has passed. On one side of the stone wall, Albert had carved another short line beside many other lines he’d made, a representation of just how much time had gone by, all the while asking himself as to what the point of counting the day is inside this room. However, pointless or not as it may seem, he couldn’t stop.
Yet.
He sat back down, the moon had waxed full, the endless sky a blanket of stars, casting inside a solemn and cold kind of light that seeps into his skin, his soul.
Blinking, Albert pretended not to notice that the door had just been opened, but he was keenly aware of the sound of firm footsteps coming in close. . . and even closer, until it stopped.
“A visitor this late of night-" Albert softly spoke, turning to face the man who’d come up behind him, “-is illegal.”
“Not if that visitor is me."
Mycroft Holmes stood tall in his usual sleek, formal attire, and hair combed back to perfection. The only thing that betrayed his autocratic, flawless demeanor were the mists and sorrow in his eyes. Albert knew as much, for he himself, must be looking the same way right now.
After all, it really hasn’t been that long since ‘The Final Problem’ had ended. . . in a very unexpected turn.
Albert watched in silence as Mycroft moved the spare wooden chair and little table in the corner, setting it between them before placing the board he was carrying atop. Albert already noticed what it was and had already guessed what was coming next.
A faint smile on his lips, Mycroft sat down across Albert, folding his arms neatly across his lap, and asked, “The night is young, how about a game?”
“Sure.” Albert answered with the same faint smile. “But do not expect me to go easy on you.”
Mycroft chuckled at that, fixing the chess pieces in their proper place with practiced hands as if he’d done this already for a thousandth time. “I’ll have you know, Sherly never once won against me.”
At the deliberate mention of Sherlock Holmes, it was unavoidable for Albert not to think of his own, precious little brother, William. It occurred to him then, the probable reason why Mycroft had come. Again. Right now, they were not the government and a sinner, but two ordinary men utterly needing one another’s company, knowing deep inside that they were currently sharing the same immeasurable pain of loss and grief.
There were no bodies found to confirm the death of their little brothers, and yet, they mourn.
And will likely continue to do so for a long time.
Yet it was still there- the tiny, flickering light of hope in the furthest depth of their hearts, that their brothers were still alive. Both of them were sure that they were not the only ones who think this way, but every single person who truly knew and cared for those two.
Pieces in place, the warm glow of the single lamp by the window accompanied by the moon’s beam, neither of them spoke as their little game of chess began. Mycroft had nothing to say, and so did Albert. For when it came to things like this, words were not always needed.
A few moments more and the game was progressing steadily, with only the soft sound of chess pieces tapping the board to fill in the loud silence of the room.
Mycroft had been very considerate following Albert’s imprisonment. On rare times that he would visit- for he was the only one allowed to come and go as he pleased- Mycroft would fill in Albert with details concerning Louis and the others. It was also the reason why he’d known about the status of the search and retrieval operation in Thames, as well as the noticeable changes slowly occurring inside the hearts of the citizen- noble and commoner alike- along with many other things. He was silently thankful that Mycroft had not kept him in the dark.
The silence went on, but the supposed to be light game of chess had turned into a serious head-on battle. An utter showdown of strategic and quick thinking. Neither of them was backing down, both were charging at the aim to best the other.
Soon enough, Mycroft found himself smiling, “You were true to what you said.”
“I am a man of word, after all.” Albert smiled back, taking away the last of Mycroft’s knight, and now he was only a few steps away from capturing the king.
“Hmph.” Mycroft’s smile widened. “But it appears you have miscalculated a few things.”
More minutes has passed, and it was clear then that Albert was close to losing the game- no, his defeat is absolute now. He then remembers the time when William spoke of how he’d defeated Moran number of times before and the thought made him smile, for even Albert himself, had not won a single game of chess from William.
Just then, it was Mycroft’s turn. He moved a single piece from the board, and announced his little victory in a cool, quiet voice, "Checkmate.”
Albert found himself laughing with a sigh, “I’ve seen that coming.” He’d done what he could, and he had no regrets.
Mycroft’s gaze were on Albert as the other man laughed though the beautiful emerald of his eyes remain vacant and without light. Accompanying him through his grief for mere minutes, bringing him in a bit of news from the outside world- this was the extent of what he can do for this man who had sacrificed a lot of things with his brothers for the sake of the nation. Not everyone will ever know nor understand the whole truth.
Though it was reasonable at a certain point of view- a different angle- and for indeed the greater good, a crime is still a crime.
Each of them have chosen a specific path for atonement. That act speaks loudly that even they, will not overlook the crimes they’ve committed no matter if they were to be punished by the law or not.
“I shall redeem myself.” Albert said just then, eyes on the chessboard. “If there would be a next time.”
Mycroft only had a few number of conversations with Albert before, had only spent short amount of time with one another, and yet he’d admitted to himself already, that he like this man. He did not only came tonight as chess and grieving companion, Mycroft really wanted to see Albert. Albert was someone he’d love to spend more time with, and that thought alone was already a peculiar thing for him to say. But they cannot be. He was not like Sherlock who had lived freely, he has a heavy responsibility, and such personal, complicated feelings were not welcome in the world he was living in, and so Mycroft shall maintain a respective distance and lock that feeling away.
“Of course.” Mycroft said in response as he stood up. “You were a worthy opponent. It was an enjoyable match.”
“I am pleased to hear that.” Albert replied, eyes still glued towards the finished game.
With one last stolen glance over that dark, chocolate brown hair and fresh-green eyes, Mycroft turned his back and walked towards the door, saying, “Take care of those for me till then.”
It pained him, but he cannot stay any longer than this. Each visit he made, it gotten harder for Mycroft to leave.
Once more, the tower fell into its prosaic hushed silence, the cold began to quickly seep in with the last remaining echo of Mycroft’s fading footsteps.
Perhaps it was because he’d been alone all this time in this cramped, forsaken place that Albert can no longer watch as Mycroft disappear. Before, he’d always see the man off, eyes on Mycroft’s retreating back, but now it seems he can’t do that anymore.
If he did so, Albert was not sure of what he will do or say, for in truth, he wanted Mycroft to stay. Maybe accompany him for the rest of the night so he wouldn’t be so alone in his grief even if it’s for one ephemeral evening. But it wasn’t appropriate for him to have such thoughts no matter how lonely he felt.
Albert suddenly wondered when it started. This yearning, these feelings that budded so unexpectedly that may be very well not so fleeting. . . It was a dangerous line he simply cannot take the chance to cross.
His eyes fell to the chess piece Mycroft had last touched. It was the king he’d captured and neatly set aside together with the other pieces he’d taken. Albert smiled; the man knew him well. Not all of him, but enough.
Without thought, Albert picked that specific king up, caressing it gently with his thumb, the wooden piece smooth and delicately crafted as the rest of the other pieces. He shall keep these feelings at bay, will not allow it to bloom further, will not allow it to see the light of day, but incongruously will not attempt to dissipate the pain and beauty it brings.
Bathed in silver moonlight, Albert closed his eyes and lifted the chess piece, gently pressing it against his lips.