Come what may

Chapter 11

Greg's laughed could be heard from the empty corridors as he made his way outside with his sports bag. He spent the afternoon playing soccer with the local team and had tons of fun. They made plans to go to the pub on Friday for some well-deserved drinks and food.

"You better be there on Friday, it's karaoke." Greg just smiled and waved at the men walking away.

"Yeah yeah, just bring some smokes!" He retorted.

He's been in Scotland for about three weeks now and was happy. It's been the longest since he was in one place. He still has a few months to go before has to be back in London, but for now there's no rush. He even started playing football with the locals and the running around and exercise is doing him good. He hasn't been in shape like this for some years and he felt good. He wasn't shaving regularly so he always had a stubble or beard these days. His hair was longer and he liked it.

He walked back towards the bed and breakfast he's staying at, the owner being kind and gave him one of the best rooms, isolated and with its own bathroom. He took a quick shower washing off all the sweat and grime before dressing. He saw on the notice board that there was a small band playing in the park, an open theatre thing and he decided to go.

He dressed in his dark jeans, a black shirt and a leather jacket. Pocketing the keys he left with a smile walking towards the park.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Mycroft wasn't paying attention to the meeting, it was tedious and boring. Anthea was there as well and more than capable to take the necessary notes. One thing he was glad for was the view. He had a beautiful view to the city. Scotland does have it postcard scenery. The street below was next to a park and he could see people gathering for the open concert tonight. Nothing big, just a small local band playing for a charity of some sorts. Local town was always doing a fundraiser or some sort.

The meeting was running late and at one point he requested a break. Smiling he stepped outside to the balcony for a smoke. This allowed him to listen to the band and the people cheering.

The song changed and he recognised the song as an old classic rock song.

Gregory would've loved it. It was his type of music anyway. He thought with a deep longing.

Gregory.

Still nowhere to be found.

The fact that he is still for all intents and purposes missing is a heavy weight on his shoulders. He did feel guilty and that made it worse. Throwing his cigarette in the ashtray in frustration he took another one. He looked at his hands; it always trembled when he was thinking of Gregory.

The light caught his wedding ring and his heart ached. He made such a mistake with Richard.

Holding on to past dreams and fantasies and in the process he lost the real thing. His mind has the tendency these days to torment him with memories of Greg. It would intensify the moments between them until he was reliving every moment. Greg's laughter would haunt him in the car. He would always try to tell cheesy jokes to break the tension. Greg's scent would hunt him when he turn in the bed, and the pillow would imitate his scent, making sure sleep is no longer an option.

Greg's footsteps would echo through the house as he made his way to the living room. He even put in rugs, no avail. The worse was when he would check the CCTV cameras and there was no silver fox winking or smiling at him

The biggest memory was the first time they slept together. He was so out of practice:

"My, stop analysing the moment and just live it." Mycroft looked down at Gregory who was smiling at him reassuringly.

"It's been a while."

"For me as well - and the ex do not count - I'm so nervous keep thinking I'm going to mess this up and you'll deport me or something."

"You give me too much power."

"Bull. I know you have it. Just make it a sunny island okay?"

"Only if you'll take me with."

Greg eyes darkened with lust and he grabbed Mycroft's tie and locked their lips together. From there on it became easy and eager.

The next morning Mycroft found himself wrapped around Greg with his head resting on his chest. One of Greg's hands was playing with his hair the other drawing circles on his arms. Instead of saying morning Greg made a comment about his freckles.

"You have so many freckles, would you mind if I kiss them all?"

"My freckles?"

"Yes. But don't worry I'll kiss you too so you don't get to jealous." Mycroft lifted his head looking at Greg's face and seeing only genuine emotions and love. One night and Greg was already in love. Mycroft thought it a mistake but then remembered they've known each other for years and this thing between them started a long time ago.

He smiled at Greg and shifted up to kiss him. They didn't left the house for two days.

Richard doesn't like his freckles much. The door opened behind him. He knew it was Anthea before she even spoke.

"Sir? The meeting is about to resume."

"Thank you." With one last drag he threw the butt away and went back inside. One more hour and then he can go back home.

Greg loved the concert. They were good and he loved the music. It was mostly old classics and mostly rock, his favourite. When they were on their last song he decided to go home before the rush of the people started. It was still light as it was this time of year. There was a slight chilly wind in the air and decided on taking a taxi home. He made his way out of the park, down the street to where the cabs usually are.

Mycroft was still bored and kept playing memories of Greg. Taking a breath he looked out. He needed to get over this, he needed to stop the memories of Greg haunt him so much.

Great, Greg is so on his mind that he is seeing him now.

Mycroft leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

Wait a minute.

That is Greg.

Looks more relaxed with his longer hair and beard but he will recognise that man, that face anywhere. Greg was walking down the street towards the cabs.

Mycroft didn't hesitate; he jumped up and ran out of the room, making his way to the street. Anthea was calling him but he ignored her as he ran. The image of Greg walking down the street was lighting him on fire. He took the steps down two at a time, the watch in his pocket pulling against the materia of the waistcoat. He took a breath as he reached the street. Greg was some distance away talking to a cab driver. He shook the drivers hand and made his way to the back of the car, opening the door.

"GREGORY!" He yelled as loud as he could. His voice carries over the noises but it wasn't enough. People stopped and turned to him as if he was crazy, Mycroft didn't care, and his one priority was to get to Greg.

He watch as the taxi started its engine and the lights went on. He started running again.

"Gregory!" He yelled again but was too late and he was force to stop, his breath uneven, his heart hammering in his chest and his mind burdened by the loss as he watched the car drove off.

A car hooted and then he was grabbed and pulled to the sidewalk.

"What are you think you're doing?" He looked at Anthea, eyes wide with fear and hair messy. She had run after him. He pointed to the car in the distance.

"It was Gregory."

Her eyes soften. She knew about everything. His guilt, Richard's adultery, Mycroft's continuous search for Gregory. Everything.

"We will find him. We know where he is, we can limit the search here. Did you see the license plate?" She walked with him over to his car, his driver was waiting outside.

"I did." Mycroft replied as he opened the door.

"Okay, text it to me." He nodded and turned to the office he just ran out off.

"The meeting….."

"I'll handle it. Now go to the hotel and cleaned up, I'll be there in thirty minutes." Mycroft's eyes search the streets again as if it would bring Greg back, exhaling deeply he looked down and climbed in the car.

Anthea stared at the car as it took him back to his hotel, hoping that he really saw Greg and wasn't imaging it. Her phone tinged with an incoming text; the license plate. As she walked back to take care of the meeting, she sent the license plate to the necessary people.

Anthea kept her word and thirty minutes later she was at his hotel room. Mycroft in the meantime had showered and was wearing trousers and a shirt. When he opened the door, he forgo the greeting and got straight to the point.

"And?"

"The meeting..." She started but he interrupted again.

"I don't care about the meeting. What about Gregory?"

"I managed to spread the word to search here and looked at CCTV cameras here, it is not as extensive as London but it will help. Should I cancel your plane home?"

"Yes. Tell them my meeting is taking longer than anticipated. I'm not leaving until I know if that's him."

"Very well. May I suggest you get some sleep, I'll be by early as soon as I know what's going on."

"Thank you Anthea for everything..."

"You're welcome. Goodnight sir."

Alone in his room Mycroft walked towards his room's balcony and instead of looking in the distance he looked at the city. Somewhere in these streets was Gregory. His Gregory. The man who got away.

"He didn't get away, you threw him away." His mind yelled at him.

"For what? A dream of the past. Where's your husband now? Probably screwing some other man he works with." Mycroft looked down in shame.

He has made so many regrets and mistakes and none as big as what he did to Greg.

That night Mycroft was haunted by dreams of Greg while Greg was dreaming of Mycroft. In the same city under the same sky.