Here we go, the last and happy ending chapter. Although it starts the same with chapter 6, the story split after the discussion in the kitchen.
Hope you like it.
It was different - expansion
Chapter 7
When Greg woke up it was late morning, for a moment he was disorientated, the bed was unknown as well as the room. For starters it was a lot more comfortable than what he was used to. He looked up to see a page with a few notes, next to the two that was usually on his bed side table. He quickly read the list
At Mycroft country house
You're safe
You're not alone
Sherlock and John is here as well
Don't worry
Mycroft is here
As her read it, the memories came back, he has been here for about a week now, when he woke up in his old place after the hospital visit, it was to find the three men in his living room making arrangements and waiting for him. It took some persuasion but when Mycroft took hold of his hands and asked him nicely, nearly begged him to come with him, he only nodded. So they waited for him to pack a few stuff, Mycroft oversaw as Greg forgot nearly half the stuff they set out to his country side home. He wanted to ask them if they know about his work, but decided against it, he doesn't want to talk about it, and it wasn't that difficult to find out, or deduce he was no longer working.
The first few days were rough; Mycroft took leave from work for an unspecified amount of time to help him settle in. Without pre-arrangements Sherlock and John decided to move in on the west wing of the house, Sherlock made excuses about an experiment with the bees and John straight out admitted he stayed for Greg. Greg didn't say thank you or acknowledge them as he just turned around and went into his room. The door closing with a soft thud. They didn't saw him until the next day.
The biggest challenge was to get him to eat; he refused to eat in front of them, and would take a slice of bread, surround himself with a blanket and would go outside. Mycroft's garden was big and well kept, with stone paths and a bench overlooking the grounds. He would make himself comfortable on the bench and would sit there for hours. Occasionally one of them would sit with him, not saying anything, just providing him with the comfort and support they should've given him before. Mycroft would sit with him for the longest.
Sighing Greg got out of bed to get dressed and get ready for the day, his actions was slower than the day before and he knew his time was nearly up. Dressing warmly in his tracksuit and jumper, scarf and the blanket he went to the kitchen. He could hear noises coming from the kitchen, they were discussing him. Making his way softly over the floor he listened.
"Convince him!" Sherlock's grunted.
"He doesn't want to Sherlock, if I could I would, I would give anything to make him say yes to the operation and we have tried this week, he is adamant." Greg looked down, his heart breaking at hearing the pain and defeat in Mycroft's voice.
"He's dying!" Sherlock cried out, his voice just as close to breaking, the desperation clear.
"You don't think I know that? You don't think I can see the way he is getting weaker with any passing minute! You called me the British Government once, you tell people I'm one of the most dangerous people they would ever meet, and don't you think that I would give it up, everything just to get him back?" Greg swallowed the lump as a tear ran down his face. He would gladly do it if he knew it would fix him, but it won't. He has a 10% survival and even less with his mind being intact afterwards. He couldn't do it, not to himself and not to Mycroft.
"We can't lose him Mycroft." Sherlock's voice was soft.
Mycroft didn't reply, everyone knew whatever he said, it wouldn't bring any comfort. Wiping his eyes Greg stepped into the kitchen, three faces turned to him, the guilt of talking behind his back evident. He walked over to Sherlock and took his hand; for once Sherlock's hand was bigger and broader than Greg's.
"You…will…never…lose…me…I'm…sure…you…have…me…somewhere…in…that…mind…of…yours…." He slowly said, concentrating on each word, each syllable to make sure he can get the message across. He was struggling these days to talk.
"Why won't you take the risk?" Sherlock asked, not caring that his eyes filled with tears.
"Because…don't…want…to…forget…you…all…of…you."
"But…" Sherlock started but Mycroft stepped between them, taking Greg's hand and indicate he must try to have some breakfast. Greg stopped him and pulled him closer.
"I…know…you…want…me…to…fight…but…not…win…now…I…would…rather…die…knowning…you…loving…you…than…live…not…loving…you." Mycroft pulled Greg close and held him close, he has been showing more emotion in the past week than in his entire life. He doesn't even try to hide the pain anymore, or hide the fact that he was crying. Soon it will be all over and his heart will be nothing more than a block of ice, so crying won't be a problem anymore.
That afternoon Mycroft found Greg in his usual place, instead of sitting down next to him like he usually does, he grouched down in front of Greg. Frowning he tilted his head.
"I know you don't want to go for the operation and if the roles were reversed I'd probably do the same, but then I realised you would've given me hassle and unrelenting grief on why that would be a bad idea and I would be my cold self and be stubborn. I'm not going to give you a thousand reasons on why you should take the risk, and believe me I can, I'm going to give you one: For me. I'm on my knees begging you to please please reconsider, please take it for me, for us, for the smallest and the most miniscule chance that we can do the things you said we could for three years. We caught only had a glimpse of how we could be and what we could be, give us the chance to be again." Mycroft was near crying when he was finished, Greg was crying. Covering Mycroft's folded hands on his lap with his own he cried.
"What…if…I'm…not…me?" He asked through sniffles and tears.
"You will be. I know you will." Mycroft stated with conviction, he had to believe. Leaning up he kissed Greg whose lips automatically fitted perfectly over his. When they slowly parted Greg lifted his hands to cup Mycroft's cheeks.
"Promise…me…I will…be…me?" Knowing Mycroft doesn't have that kind of power but he also needed some kind of affirmation, someone who can believe for the both of them. Mycroft knew it too.
"I promise." There was no doubt in his voice, no sliver of doubt in his gaze as he stared at Greg. Greg who could only nod and fall into Mycroft's arms that pulled him into a tight embrace.
They were packed and ready to go in less than an hour, Mycroft in true form had made arrangements in the event of Greg agreeing, and when he got the go-ahead, everything just fell into place. The clinic was very private, very well equipped and one of the top medical facilities in Germany. The J.W. Goethe University hospital in Frankfort is one of the best Neurosurgical hospitals with leading doctors making new discoveries every day. It was difficult to find a doctor willing but Buchberger was not only a risk taker; he was one with the most successful surgeries behind his name and scalpel.
He took great interest in Greg's case and when Mycroft contacted him, he was very eager to get his hands on him. Their flight was immediate, Sherlock and John would follow later, they were in town when Greg agreed and Mycroft wasn't going to wait for them to get to the country and then fly out.
Greg was quiet the whole time during the flight and even in the big private suite at the hospital, he had his own private room with his own bathroom and in the one corner was a smaller bed with a table and two chairs for visitors. Mycroft put their bags down on the bad and Greg's file on the table. He was scheduled to go first thing in the morning. Greg held Mycroft the whole night, he asked Mycroft to climb in the bed with him, which he did.
Greg about to be collected and taken to surgery in the next ten minutes, he and Mycroft was sitting in silence on the bed, hands clasped together. Sherlock and John were sitting at the small table, coffee and food in take-out containers. Greg smiled.
"Sherlock?" He broke the silence, Sherlock jumped up and walked towards him.
"Hug…me…" He stated and Sherlock looked very confused with the strange request but sitting on the other side of the bed he pulled him in awkward hug. When Greg made a move to push away Sherlock held him tighter burying his face in his neck. There was no words needed, sometimes actions are always louder and even ill Greg knew what Sherlock needed without saying a thing.
Mycroft was the only one allowed to walk with them as they wheeled him to the theatre. As they said goodbye Greg pulled him closer and whispered so only they could hear.
"If…I'm…not…me…don't…let…me…wake…up." Mycroft wanted to yell back to say no, but he understood, he knew what Greg was saying and he respected it. He gave a small nod.
"But it won't come to that you will be fine. No debate." Greg just smiled and nodded.
"I…love…you."
"I love you." Mycroft replied and stepped aside as they administered the anaesthesia. Greg's eyes were focused on his until his lids closed. The moment when Mycroft stepped out into the hallway his brother and John was on either side.
Greg sat on the bench his eyes closed and listening to the sounds of the nature around him, bees are buzzing in the far corner of the garden, Sherlock in heaven and instructing John to take notes accordingly. There are a few birds chirping on his right side, a few was splashing in the small water fountain. Opening his eyes he lifted the blanket a bit tighter around his body, his body still cooperating after the trauma. He already picked up five pounds but still have about ten to go, to get back to where he was. His motor functions has improved greatly and can actually cut through a potato now, not a steak, Mycroft still cuts that for him, but at least he can eat without looking like a toddler when he was finished. Mycroft smiled this morning and said he was very glad that Greg's hair was nearly the same length as before, the spikes already refusing to submit to Greg's hands. He wasn't complaining.
Two months has passed since the surgery, and although there was still a long way to go before he would be as before the diagnosis, he was very glad that he wasn't where he was before the surgery. He will get better, it will take time and he is not alone, not anymore. Looking down he saw his cup was empty and put it on the small tray next to him.
It was on this bench that he said yes to Mycroft's request to go for the operation, it was on this bench a month ago when he said yes to Mycroft's request to move in with him and start again, and it was on this bench that Mycroft gave him another request, his hand in marriage one year from now and he would be back to his full health. It was on this bench that Greg said yes for the third time.
"Ready to go in?" Greg looked up and saw Mycroft standing in front of him. Greg nodded and took the outstretched hand and wasted no time in reaching out his hand to his.
"Let's go home." Mycroft said softly as he helped Greg to stand up and with their hands interlaced started walking down the path towards their home.
