21st June 1863, Metlock Hall, Devonshire
The small boy curled up in his brother's arms, his dangerously thin body testament to a lifetime of neglect and abuse. Bones protruded through bruised flesh, angry scars standing out sharply against the near translucent pallor of his skin. Mycroft traced the path of a scar down his back, sickening as he realised it had been caused by a horse whip, but even the pitiful spectacle of his brother's broken body could not prepare him for the pain he knew he would feel should he look into his eyes and see the state of his spirit. The revelation was one that he wished to put off for as long as possible and he resolutely continued to rock the child, tracing wounds as if to heal them.
"You left me" the boy broke the dreadful silence with words that stung like salt in a gaping wound. It wasn't what he said that broke his brother's heart, but the manner in which he had spoken. His statement had been a declaration of fact and had held no hint of malice, merely resignation. It had not taken the sharp-minded nine year old long to realise his lot and his philosophy was based on a lifetime of torturous experience: everyone he loved would leave him; that was his destiny in the world. He did not begrudge the Fates their sentence; after all, as his father reminded him on an almost daily basis, 'he deserved all he got'. No, he was not angry or upset with the young man who held him after so long apart; his words had been those of a scientist whose hypothesis had been proven, nothing more. He had become the impassive observer of his own destruction and he almost welcomed it.
Mycroft wiped his eyes fiercely and removed his school blazer, wrapping it around the slight frame in his embrace "you're coming with me." If the boy was surprised by the change in his circumstances, he didn't show it. His grey eyes remained cold, distant… sterile… and even as he lifted him into his arms Mycroft couldn't bear to look into them. For as long as he continued to look away he could remember his brother as the child he had been- happy, carefree, innocent- before he had left for school, before he had left him in the hands of fate and their father. If he looked into those icy depths now he knew he would drown in them, and there could be no salvation.