Kintsukuroi: to repair with gold or silver lacquer. In understanding to say that the piece is better for being broken.

Summary

Greg and Mycroft's relationship was over the moment Greg found out about the betrayal that Sherlock indeed was alive.

Chapter 1

It's been a month since he walked out of the Diogenes club, a month since he walked out of Mycroft's life. He was so angry. Angry and frustrated. At everything and everyone. He was snappy, sarcastic, and just a little below the thin line between mean and rude.

Mycroft did try to call him a few times, he wasn't sure whether to apologise, explain or asking if he was all right.

He did remember the emotions like it happened a day ago. Seeing Sherlock materialise out of the darkness like that, he shocked himself with the hug, considering he didn't felt like he had any control over his body.

"Those things would kill you, you know."

The words kept reverberating throughout his mind.

'Really? Cigarettes will kill me? Not the pain of my heart being blown apart by betrayal? That wouldn't kill me? What about the idea of treachery from Mycroft and Sherlock? Oh no. That's completely fine and well. It's some tobacco and nicotine in rolled up paper that's apparently the murderer here.'

He was so tired. With a soft thud he fell down onto the bed, and he could've sworn that he committed murder of a spring somewhere inside the mattress. If that pointy obstacle in his hip, is anything to go by. He missed his old bed, the one he and Mycroft used to share. It was fluffy and warm and comfortable. It was like a cotton -very expensive Egyptian cotton - true love hug every night. This bed reminded him of his ex.

He hardly remembered the walk to the Diogenes club, or the very conversation he had with Mycroft. Very short verbal conversation, a long and in depth nonverbal conversation. He knew. The bastard knew!

He started laughed hysterically.

"What a joke!" He was trying to comfort his partner, trying to be strong for the both of them. The sleepless nights he used to have, when the guilt was tearing him up inside. He didn't even focus on the inquest, felt like he received an award with the suspension, because that was so much more than he deserved.

"Wait a minute..." he sat up.

"Bloody bastard. All the times you hugged me and trying to tell me it wasn't my fault. Probably laughed behind my back!"

"FUCK!" He yelled as loud as he could before he collapse with pain and tears. He cried till there were no more tears, just his lungs constricting causing his chest to heave.

"This is worse than adultery My..." He whispered to the hollow and destitute room.

Drained and empty he finally fell into a pitiful sleep in the late hours of the night.

He woke up the next morning convinced he was dying from the bubonic plague, the symptoms were there, or at least, some of them were. With a sigh and heavy heart he walked into the bathroom to get ready for work. He hated the flat, and the yellow wall bathroom. He missed the big and spacious white bathroom he used to share with Mycroft.

"You look like crap." Greg just scowled at Sally who shrugged and walked away. He turned to the people in the room. By now everybody is aware of the resurrection of Sherlock. The newspapers, radio stations and the television, all talking about one thing.

They were looking at him and he could hear the whispering behind his back. Sherlock's name might be cleared, but the spot will always be on his. They would always look at him, like he was aware of everything this whole time, they would not treat him any different but the camaraderie he used to have with some of his colleagues will always be tainted. Just thinking about what he suffered and the challenges he had to get back on track with Sally angered him all over again.

Making his mind up, he straighten his back and walked towards his office. He closed the door and practically fell down in his chair. Somewhere it all went belly up and he had no idea where to even start to get some sort of sense back.

No one even knew about him and Mycroft, which means he had no one to whom he could talk to about all of this. Sally knew, but she still has bad feelings about a Holmes and he didn't feel like opening his heart to her about Mycroft to her. She just wouldn't understand.

It hit him like a brick in the face. He had no one. It was a very depressing and dangerous thought. He was alone. John still blames or hate him, he is unsure which one is the winner for the moment. Both probably. He ignored him for two years and hardly acknowledged him at Baker Street the other day.

"That was awkward to say the least." He opened the files on his desk. He needed to focus on his job, and push everything else aside.

By Friday he was in for a surprise. As he entered his office Anthea was sitting in his chair. Whatever happens, he was ready. Straighten his shoulders he walked inside.

"Anthea."

She didn't say anything as she just looked at him. If looks could kill, there was about to be a murder in his office. The worst part was that he didn't care. They stood staring at each other for a while, neither breaking the silence. Finally Greg exhaled and opened the door to leave. As he turned around she broke the silence.

"Stop." Greg stopped and turned back towards her.

"Oh it speaks." Anthea was stunned for a moment; Greg has never spoken to her like that. She composed herself before continuing.

"Do you remember what I said about hurting him?" Greg stared at her, filled with incredulity and anger. Then he started laughing hysterically. His shoulders shook with the laughter. Anthea frowned. After he got his breath back he walked towards his desk and sat in one of the facing chairs.

"Did he send you?"

"No."

"Does he know you're here?"

"Probably."

"Call him."

"What?"

"Now. You're phone, my phone, the land line, I don't care. Call him. "

She hesitated for a moment then Greg pulled out his phone and dialled the man. It kept ringing until it went to voicemail. He leaned over to her.

"Maybe we should use your phone?"

She picked up her phone and dialled.

"Put it on speaker please."

It didn't even ring twice before he picked up.

"Anthea?"

"Sir."

"You're with Gregory?" Mycroft tried to make it sound like a question, but it still came out as a statement. Greg caught the barest hint of hiccup in his voice. You had to listen very closely but after being in a relationship with the man for three years and knowing him for a lot more before he knew every tone in his voice. He took a breath, he had to be strong. He needed to say what was on his mind, no going back.

"Yes."

Before either can say anything Gregory spoke.

"Can you believe she's here because she warned me three years ago not to hurt you? Guess it's time for retaliation."

"Gregory." The hiccup in his voice went down another tone. Greg ignored it and continued.

"No. Don't. I asked her to call you so that you both can hear this." He turned to her.

"Anthea you warned me not to hurt him, but I firmly believe that the two of you are in a much better position to hurt me. And get away with it. So if you are going to inflict your wrath and revenge on me, you better make sure that it hurts a hell lot more than the agony I'm carrying. I will gladly stand still as you inflict your pain and threats as long as you promised it would take away the pain of betrayal and lies that you and Mycroft been feeding me. I will welcome any bruise and broken bone if it can take away the brokenness of knowing that the man I love more than life itself, and would gladly give my life for, deemed it necessary to lie and betray me. Promise me it will take away the pain of knowing that for the three year relationship with him, two was a nest of secrets and lies. I beg you to hurt me as much as possible if you can beat some the unworthiness and utter self-hatred that I feel out. I will take the affliction if I can get my broken reputation back, if I can get my dignity and the respect of my peers back after what happened with Sherlock. I'll take it if my colleagues can look me into my eyes without pity and doubt." He stopped trying to get his breath back, his eyes locked on her. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, his voice filled with shame and grief. Mycrofts breathing was heavy over the speaker. He didn't say anything.

Anthea eyes were filled with unshed tears. She knew that Greg never was any good with hiding his emotions, which is why Mycroft was so attracted to him. The genuineness and sincerity of Greg broke through his walls. Anthea was at the moment wishing that she wasn't the one to saw the reactions on the detective's face. She would rather be somewhere in some political debate than this office.

As an afterthought Greg added.

"I wished you've cheated Mycroft, maybe you have, I'll never know. You see I'm used to that, and I'm used to be not enough so my partners seek fulfilment elsewhere. I can deal with that. But this…I don't know what to do. I don't know how to deal with this. Infidelity seems like the lesser evil here." With one last glance he wiped his eyes and left her there in his office.