Come what may

Chapter 12

Mycroft was up before dawn, eager for feedback. After a restless night he wasn't in the mood to wait or wonder anymore. He kept glancing at his watch until finally the knock came at his door. He opened it and nearly pulled her inside.

"What have you found?"

"He's been here for about three weeks. Plays for the local football team. He spends most of his time sightseeing and travelling. He left this morning on a country trip towards the north on a tour bus and will be back around six. He's scheduled to have dinner tonight with some friends at a local pub. He's staying at a small bed and breakfast close to the pub and the park they play. Pays cash for everything and keep to him mostly. Does have a reputation as the lonesome stranger who can sing as he apparently show his talents at the karaoke nights." Mycroft sat down. He found him. After nearly eight months of searching and worrying he's finally found him. He felt relieved, he felt anxious and know it was just pure luck that he found him. If he didn't look up from the meeting, and if Greg didn't choose that moment to pass, he might never have found him, and he would still be looking. He would've gone back to London last night and never knew how close he came to finding Greg. There's no way he can go back home now, he need to stay here as long as possible, he need to make contact with Greg talk to him. What does one say after months off no contact? He didn't left on the best of terms.

He looked at Anthea.

"Update Sherlock. Tell him we found him, but haven't made contact yet. I want to go to the pub tonight, I'll call him tomorrow with more information."

"Yes sir." He had a day to kill, he pulled his laptop closer.

"We can do most of the work here today? I should probably explain my actions last night"

"Might work sir."

"Let's get started, I want to be done by tonight."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Greg came back from his trip just in time to get ready for the pub. He was starving and craving a smoke. When he finally made it he was five minutes late. Placing his order for food and drinks he went over to his friends. He was so distracted that he didn't pay attention. If he did he would've seen the stranger hiding in the corner with his drink.

Mycroft caught his breath as Greg walked in, he was smiling and happy and clearly made friends as he talked as if he belonged there.

He stared at Greg, noting the change in his body as he was more fit and leaner, his muscles more defined. His hair was longer and Mycroft loved it, his fingers aching to run through it. Even the beard looked amazing. Greg looked amazing. Mycroft watched as Greg walked out to the tables outside. An hour. He would wait an hour before he went outside. Maybe in that time he would think of what to say, because he wasn't afraid to admit that he was a little bit scared. This is one thing he can't afford to mess up. Not only won't he forgive himself, but Sherlock won't let him hear the end of it either.

Mycroft spend the hour in his mind palace. Sherlock immediately called him and demanded a first-hand retelling of the facts. Richard called him to fight about how he was supposed to be home as they had plans for tomorrow. Mycroft couldn't care less.

When the hour was up he straightened his back and walked towards the back where Greg was. It was now or never. The moment he stepped outside the breeze caught him and was enough to make his mind clear.

As his eye caught Greg he knew there would never be anyone else. Greg was laughing loudly, his empty plate in front of him and his glass half full. In his hand was a cigarette. The atmosphere around the table was relaxed and happy. To Mycroft's dismay Greg had an arm around the man next to him and they looked cosy. He pulled a face. Mycroft stood still, waiting for Greg to see him.

Greg laughed as he told a story, taking a drag from his cigarette, when he felt someone staring at him. He stopped to take a sip of his beer and as he looked up he froze. Not even ten metres from him was Mycroft. Standing tall and looking at him. He looked anxious, tense and intimidating all at once. He blinked and looked away before turning back to Mycroft. Still there. Mycroft was looking at him, making no attempt to go over. He finished his drink and got up.

"Excuse me a moment." He said to his friends before he made his way to Mycroft, stopping when he was in front of him.

Neither man talked or said anything. They just stared. Greg took a breath and walked through the garden gate. Mycroft following behind. Once outside in the street it was quiet, the voices and sounds of the pub in the background. Greg stopped and turned to Mycroft, opening his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Mycroft could relate. Greg would walk a few steps and then turned to Mycroft, opening his mouth but closing it again. He was furious and nervous. He wanted to scream at him, he wanted to wrap his arms around him and never let go. The second time he turned around, at least to say h,i Mycroft pulled out his cigarette box and offered him one. He took it and closed his eyes. The streetlamp caught the wedding band. Everything he wanted to say fell back down to the pit of his stomach. In front of him stood the love of his life, married to someone else. Mycroft saw the emotions across Greg's face as he saw the wedding band and he quickly pulled his hand back, hiding it in his pocket. He stood in silence looking down at their burning cigarettes, the smoke slowly twirling up.

Greg lifted his cigarette and took a long drag, before he's shoulders sagged and he turned, slowly walking back to the bed and breakfast. Mycroft fell in line.

They smoked in silence. Every now and then Greg would glance at Mycroft and Mycroft would do the same. Neither man knowing how to break the silence between them. Both scared that if they do break the silence they just might say something the other would regret. So they didn't say anything.

When Greg reached the B&B he put out his cigarette and opened the door. Mycroft grabbed his arm to stop him. Greg didn't fight back nor said anything as they stared at each other. After several minutes Mycroft let go. Greg stepped in and turned back to Mycroft. He still didn't move as he watched Greg for a few minutes when to his utter surprise and shock Greg closed the door.

He stared at the door, willing it to open again, but after ten minutes it didn't. Making a promise to come back the next day, he turned and walked away.

Mycroft was back at the bed and breakfast before seven the next morning when it opened. He made his way inside and found Greg in the dining room having breakfast. He sat down opposite the man. They didn't say anything again. Mycroft stared at Greg, his movements so familiar by now but he missed his voice and took a breath. Now or never.

"You were very hard to find." Greg stopped eating.

"Didn't know I was missing." Mycroft wanted to say more but Greg took the moment to get up. He indicated that Mycroft must follow him and he did. He followed Greg and he realised he was going to the room he had been staying in. Greg closed the door behind him.

"We are a conversation overdue and didn't think it should be public."

"Probably not."

"How did you find me?"

"Saw you yesterday as you left the park. I ran after you but you got in into the cab." Greg gave a humourless laugh

"Ran after me? You expect me to believe that?"

"Yes. We've been trying to find you for months! I've been trying to find you for months! Worrying constantly about whether you're okay or alive."

"Why? Why would you care? You made your position clear."

"My position!? Of course I care." He added as an afterthought. Greg stepped closer.

"You ran out after our conversation, ran off with your high school sweetheart to get married." Greg voice was becoming louder and he walked towards Mycroft. His hand pointing to his hand.

"You didn't even have the decency to let me know you're getting married." Greg stepped back and started pacing.

"Do you have any idea how much you've hurt me. Any idea? Seven months and I thought we were going strong and good and this is it, then I found out you were cheating..."

"I wasn't cheating! I never slept with Richard while we were going out." Mycroft retorted he was just as angry. The problem was that he knew Greg was right, but it being thrown back into his face after so long, was just a bit too hard to handle. Greg whirled around his focus on Mycroft.

"You did! You might not have had sex but you went behind my back, you lied to me and on top of that you were so ashamed of me, you couldn't tell him you are in relationship and instead of keeping him a secret you kept me secret. Which I have to tell you, really makes a person feel amazing."

Mycroft turned his face away in shame, everything he said was right, he did went behind Greg's back, he should've told him from the beginning what was going on. He hoped Greg would one feel it in his heart to forgive him. When the silence stretches to long he spoke, his voice soft and uncertain.

"I'm sorry."

Greg stopped pacing and walked closer to Mycroft who was stepping back until he reached the wall.

"Sorry?" He leaned in closer.

"Sorry for what exactly? Not having the backbone to tell me you were cheating? To not bother to call me in three months to say 'hi, so you were right, I'm getting married by the way' or 'sorry you broke my heart?"

"All of it." Mycroft replied his eyes not leaving Greg's willing him to see the truth.

Greg exhaled softly searching Mycroft's face to find any hint of lying, he didn't find anything, but then again Mycroft was so experienced in hiding his face. Greg did found traces of guilt and sadness there that wasn't before.

Mycroft leaned a bit closer their face was inches apart. Mycroft saw the new lines around his eyes, the caution and pain in the brown of his eyes and he was overcome with a sense of regret so strong it made him weak. How did he ever let this man go?

"Why did you left?" His voice was soft and cracking. Greg stared him in the eyes.

"Because I lost everything that mattered."

"You still had your job and Sherlock." He knew his argument was invalid but still he tried. Greg shook his head.

"In less than a day I became nothing to you, and I'm sorry I can't live in a city where you have it all and I nothing. Not until I was over you and could think about you without breaking."

"So you picked up your stuff and left, without saying goodbye?"

"I said my byes."

"You didn't say goodbye to me!" Mycroft cried out. Greg stepped back, and started pacing again, Mycroft following his movements with focus.

"You never said goodbye to me, at least I had the curtesy of giving you a card. How was the wedding by the way? Did all your dreams come true? How's Richard?" Greg saw Mycroft flinched when he mentioned the card, but didn't stop. Mycroft didn't reply at all and the silence stretched out. Mycroft felt too ashamed to tell him about Richard and the mistake of getting married, albeit to the wrong person. Greg turned and opened the window. He took out a small rolled up cigarette from the back of the pack. It was filled with weed. Yes in his little quest to get over Mycroft he had turned to some weed. He did it before in his youth but never as a cop. He was curious to see Mycroft's reaction to him using marijuana. He lit up and took his first drag. The sweet smell filled his nostrils and the room. He watched as the smell hit Mycroft. He froze then frowned and slowly looked up.

Greg's small smugness disappeared from his face as he saw Mycroft's anger and rage towards him. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Mycroft stepped closer and emphasis each word and syllable.

"Are. You. Using. Drugs?" Greg shrugged.

"It's weed. Not so bad."

The next thing he knew he was slammed against the wall, the cigarette falling onto the windowsill.

"What the hell are you thinking? How can you do something like that?" Greg tried to inhale before he looked at Mycroft.

"Relax. I'm not about to shoot drugs up my veins it's just a little weed."

Mycroft didn't relent his face was red with anger. "After everything we went through with Sherlock this is what you're reduce to?"

"To what am I reduce to?" Mycroft ignored him instead he asked another question.

"Why?"

"To help me get my life back, to help me get over you, why else?" Greg spat out the words watching Mycroft as every word hit home. His fists slowly let go but his hand was still flat against Greg's chest. Mycroft felt every heartbeat, the muscles tight under his shirt. Greg's pulse was visible against his neck and Mycroft lifted his hand to his neck. Greg shuddered as their skin made contact. Mycroft's hand moved up to Greg's cheek his hands gliding over the beard and his breathing escalated. He moved closer so that by now they were touching from chest to thighs.

Greg eyes were seeking for Mycroft's, who was avoiding his eyes as his hand moved up, his other hand resting on Greg's hip.

"Gregory." He whispered as his mouth moved closer to Greg's, his tongue moving slightly over his lips to wet it. Greg inhaled sharply. Mycroft's voice setting his body on fire.

"My." His nickname slipped out his mouth opening his lips just enough for Mycroft's to fit perfectly as it touched.