AN - Trigger Warnings.

Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Child Cruelty.

XXXX

Mycroft continued to sit in the field base they'd set up, he'd been there for several hours in the ever present drizzle with just a few solders left behind as backup. He had nothing to do save for sit on the uncomfortable metal chair and watch the body cameras of his beloved and the other soldiers who'd gone into that godforsaken bunker.

It had taken them hours to track down the exact spot the old Nazi bunker had been hidden away in; a hard to reach spot at the base of a slope nestled among trees. Mycroft's biggest worry about the the place wasn't its connection to World War II, wasn't that they would face an unknown quantity of enemies either, no, it was the fact that they'd be walking in blind; that bunker would likely be a rabbit warren. They had no idea what to expect and though Holmes the elder knew Artemis could easily handle herself he did still worry.

He'd been in that folding chair for almost eight hours now, so long than he'd ordered extra team go in to do an ammo drop. To top things off their radios had gone down so Mycroft had lost contact with everybody as soon as they'd stepped foot within that murder pen. They were the fucking British Secret Service, they shouldn't have had tech faults like this, yes those walls were designed to resist a mortar attack so of course the wall thickness would have an adverse effect on their communications but that had been taken into account. It left Mycroft feeling useless as if he was just watching a television show, but he knew he wasn't, people were going to die.

The British Government's ass had gone numb at least two hours previous and had now started to actually freeze off. Despite all that, and a desperate craving for a popper cup of English tea, he watched on as Artemis killed everything in sight. Then, as she practically Sparta kicked a man down a dark set of stairs, her camera died, just cut to black. Mycroft Holmes had always prided himself on being a logical and emotionally controlled person but in that moment panic surged through him. He shot to his cold feet half terrified that she'd been shot from behind.

"Artemis!" He called through his earpiece. "Does anybody have eyes on Artemis?"

Only then did he remember the radios had gone down hours ago, so of course no one answered his demanded question. He'd always been much to smart to run face first into danger, he wasn't his idiot little brother, but in that moment all Mycroft wanted to do was run and find her. It felt like when she'd been shot outside Edwin's office, when he'd charged passed guards raced to her side. This though, he was miles away from that damn Nazi bunker, a bunker they'd spent hours on the ground searching for and hours more trying to take. Artemis could have been dead nut no, Artemis was fine; he kept telling himself that. Forget In God We Trust, this was in Artemis he trusted. She was fine, she was always fine. None of that stopped him from going through everyone else's body cam footage to try to spot her, then, suddenly, another camera went out followed by three more all in the same staircase. In that moment he calmed himself and accepted the fact that the wall thickness had struck again this time in combination with the depth; when he thought about it he should have been thankful that the body camera footage had held out as long as it had.

Colonel Henley's camera went out then and Mycroft was quick to notice several more as they made their way down the staircase. That relaxed him, it was most certainly the depth and not an attack, his soon to be bride really was all right.

The auburn-haired man was forced to sit there in the uncomfortable chair once more and wait while more and more of the cameras went dark. In the end it was the still feeds which didn't go down that disturbed him the most, because he knew it meant they were dead. More people who'd never go home to their families. For a moment he wondered if it was really worth it, since starting the Hades attacks he'd lost more men than he could count, how many children were parent-less because of these breaches? Then again, how many children were parent-less because of Hades, how many parents were childless? Was it right to sacrifice the few for the sake of the many, that was the age-old question which was posed to students and soldiers alike. It was a question Mycroft heard a lot in his meetings, one which people of all sides used to try and justify their actions or condemn those of others. He'd heard many answers full of different points of view but Mycroft had his own answer. Was it right? No, no, it would never be right, not for one single second would it be right, but sometimes it was the only choice. It didn't matter who the people involved were, in Mycroft's mind if one could save people then one did it even if that meant someone else would die, because if everybody stood around just asking that question over and over again trying to work out if it was right then nobody would survive. So no, it wasn't right but it had to be done and Mycroft would shoulder the hate, ridicule and controversy which came with it all because that was what he did. Sherlock had it easy in a way, he got to solve murders, give people rudely phrased closure and capture the killer. Mycroft, however, didn't solve murders, he had a much harder job because he tried to stop the deaths before they even happened.

It wasn't until almost two hours later when the auburn-haired man had started to debate if his legs were made of ice that the cameras started to burst back to life, then finally, finally, Colonel Henley's voice came over the radio.

"Sir, the bunker has been cleared but we have heavy casualties. I need a medical team down here now."

Myc nodded even though the military man couldn't see him. "Of course, Colonel."

He snapped his fingers at one of the men who'd remained behind with him and in no less than two sentences and a head nod orders had been given to the helicopter pilot and the blades had stared to rotate.

"We've got something too, sir." Henley sighed over the line. "You're going to want to see this."

"On our way."

The suit clad man waisted no time rushing to the helicopter and nor did the pilot it seemed because it seemed like seconds before they were landing in a small clearing not too far from the bunker entrance; miles in the space of seconds. He and the medical unit slipped out of the helicopter in a heartbeat to see that the soldiers who'd been fortunate enough not to be injured had dragged those who had towards the clearing. It practically looked like a triage clinic one would have expected to see during the Spanish flu epidemic. He had every faith in his people, those in need of medical care would get it.

Mycroft was set upon by Henley – who had clearly been through the wars - at the heavy metal door. The colonel had a large, deep cut down his left cheek where he'd clearly been slashed with something and kept all his weight rested on his right leg; blood covered him but Mycroft was fairly certain most wasn't actually Henley's blood.

After an awkward glance at one another Colonel Henley guided him inside and Mycroft had to fight the urge to cover his nose with his hand. The bunker was dark, not pitch black but certainly dark, like in winter when the sun started to set and everybody was left in that twilight limbo where it was too light to turn a lamp on but too dark to see anything properly.

"This place goes on forever, sir, there are six levels all connected by an extensive tunnel network. The Nazi's were shifty fuckers. That's not the important bit though."

Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. "And what precisely is the important bit?"

The shorter man just stared at him a second as if trying to figure exactly what to say. "You have to see for yourself, sir. I'll take you to the lowest level, that's where Artemis is."

Henley turned to step further into the disturbing darkness of the World War II era bunker but Mycroft verbally brought him to a halt; Myc had seen enough men injured and he''d only just gotten on site.

"No, you need medical treatment as well, you're limping. Go get checked out."

Colonel Henley wanted to argue, he was that sort of a man, but had learned not to bother with Myrcroft Holmes since he'd never actually win.

"All right." He sighed then glanced around to his soldiers as they filed out of the bunker. "Lieutenant Kinsley!"

Out of the dank darkness appeared a blonde woman around Artemis' age, she – amazingly – looked almost untouched by the blood and decay.

"Yes, sir?"

Henley loosely gestured to the suit clad man. "Take Mister Holmes down to the pens."

That got Mycroft's attention and quickly had him questioning. "'Pens'?"

"You'll see."

With that Colonel Henley limped away back into the light; they'd attacked under the cover of darkness but now the sun was high in the sky as if the horrors hadn't ever happened.

Mycroft snapped back to himself when Lt. Kinsley clicked her flashlight back on and started along the claustrophobic halls. She didn't say a single word to him and Myc didn't feel the need to speak to her either, he was too focused on the horror around him. The irony stench of blood assaulted his nostrils and he forced himself not to gag. The dead lined the cold hallway floors, men and women from both sides all equal in death. Some of the Hades Reapers had just been teenagers and his mind had launched straight back to when he'd first met Artemis; especially when he spotted one dead Reaper, she was face down with her raven hair splayed everywhere. Still, he kept going despite the horrendous blood smell growing worse. Mycroft hadn't ever been one for scented candles but he may have actually purchase in bulk when he returned home jut to get the scent of ichor out of his nose. The lighting didn't get any better the deeper they went either. He found the sound of feet on dusty steps and the icy chill which lingered in the air thoroughly disturbing as well, so many had died with such violence and he'd ordered all of it.

Determined to push all his thoughts away Holmes the elder continued to trail after Lt. Kinsley and worryingly the further down they went the younger the Reapers grew. Something was seriously off within this bunker. Suddenly she stopped at the bottom of the last set of stairs and Mycroft nearly walked straight into the back of her. A couple of emergency lights lit the deadend hallway but all it did was make the gray walls look even more cave-like. Six dirty metal doors were evenly spaced, three on each side, and were all closed save for one on the right at the very end, the others appeared to be locked tight since a man was on his knees attempting to figure out how to open the odd locks Hades had installed. Kinsley gestured for him to go ahead and he did so with as little hesitation as possible. He stepped through the metal door unsure as to what he'd find but anything his expansive mind could have come up with was nothing compared to the horror inside. Children.

"Oh my God." The words finally managed to tumble from the British Government's mouth as he just stood there in the middle of the room.

All of them dressed in threadbare clothing and with just the ground to sit upon, some were fortunate enough to have a blanket under which two or three would huddle underneath. The worst part wasn't any of that though – which only made it all the more tragic – no, the truly heartbreaking part were the cribs all in a line on the west side of the filthy room. Six tiny plastic cribs like the ones one would usually find on a maternity ward. None of these children were older than seven or eight, none of them cried either, clearly they'd learnt it wouldn't help them already.

The room itself was even darker than the hallway and the rest of his words failed him. This old Nazi bunker wasn't a headquarters location like Lesotho had been, it wasn't a safe haven for the depleted Reapers either, it was a damn training facility just like the one he'd found in Finland; where he'd met Artemis.

Files all too similar to the one Artemis had burnt had been tacked up around the room as if to indicate a child's bunk which had never existed to start with while they hung from the cribs for the toddlers and infants.

Mycroft could see his future wife stood at the third crib holding a young boy in her arms so as to settle the boy while two other female soldiers had stripped off their weapons and tried to calm the captive Hebes; not that it seemed to work all that well.

Artemis didn't acknowledge his presence, just continued to stand with her back to him and the baby boy in her arms; Myc was too horrified to try and make her. He didn't belong there, that was clear, not in his three-piece suit and silk ties while children froze before him. The auburn-haired Holmes felt sick, the sort of sick which lingered in the throat. How could anybody do this to children? They were innocents. He knew that the other five rooms would reveal similar sights, it was barbaric.

The kids were obviously underfed and chilled to the bone, none looked as if they'd seen the light of day in at least two months and the elder girls just had the same blank expressions on their faces as they stared off at nothing in particular. 'I'm not a virgin, Hades sees to that quickly', they had been Artemis' words in that cabin, had Hades 'seen' to it for these little girls as well?

Mycroft had seen a man shoot himself in the head and yet the sight before him now was still more sickening. He couldn't let it take over though, he needed to shove the bile deep, deep down and stay strong. They'd gone out there expecting deliver another blow to an already depleted Hades but now they had children to save. The kids somewhat explained why Henley's soldiers had been pulling bodies into side rooms as well, they'd certainly not remove the children until the bodies were gone; didn't want them seeing more evil.

"This is a Hebe training facility, isn't it." Mycroft finally found his voice. "Like the one I met you in."

The raven-haired beauty didn't answer but the taller man didn't look her way, just leaned forwards to pull one of the files from the wall. Mycroft had always known Artemis' childhood had been one of horror and violence but he'd never been faced with the reality of it before. Then again, to an organization with no emotions this wasn't good or bad, it just was. Didn't excuse them though, never would. He finally flicked the file open to peer inside and return the boy's – who sat underneath his file on the dirty ground – name. Harvey Abernathy. Whose missing children's database was he listed on? Or had his family been murdered by Hades and he been stolen?

"Mycroft, why can't I put this boy down?"

He'd known she was holding the child, of course he had, not he'd not really registered it exactly, both been aware and unaware at the same time. Thinking about it the sight before him was unusual. Easily he tucked Harvey's file under his arm and approached his beautiful girl to see silent tears tumble down her cheeks, he'd never seen that before.

"He was crying so I picked him up and now I can't put him down." She explained rather emotionless for a crying woman. "Why am I crying? I never cry, I didn't know I could cry."

Mycroft gazed at her a moment then sighed deeply as it all clicked for him.

"It's your mothering instinct. I think this little one has triggered it."

"Mothering instinct?" Artemis questioned.

He nodded and rested a comforting hand atop her bloody shoulder. "They buried it all but they really couldn't destroy it, could they." It had been a rhetorical question so he wasn't surprised in the least when Artemis said nothing. "It's a natural instinct in women, a protective and innate instinct to look after her young, to love and care for them. True, some women don't seem to have one but for those who do it is akin to being a lioness."

"But he's not my child." Stated the woman he loved simply.

"Doesn't always have to be ones own child, hell, even a particularly cute kitten could set it off. Men have a paternal instinct though it will never be quite the same as that of the mother. It is one thing to sire a child, it is quite another to grow and give birth to one."

Finally she tilted her head towards him and Mycroft gained a look at those perfect emeralds of hers.

"But why can't I put him down?"

Myc peered down at the boy, he was young, maybe a year old or a little less. His clothes were dirty and he looked hungry but still he slept happily in Artemis' arms grateful for the care and attention he'd so desperately needed.

"He was crying, you said, so you want to protect him, want to stop him going through all you did." Mycroft leaned forwards to kiss his fiancée's cheek. "Let's find his name, shall we?"

Didn't take more than two seconds for the suit clad man to snatch up the boy's file and open it. His heart sank, there in the list of intakes a Reaper had ticked 'familial sale'. This boy had no name, no date of birth, no country of origin, nothing save for a number and a tick indicating he had a single sibling somewhere. Artemis had been taken after her parents had been assassinated, others had been purchased off the black market but for someone to sell their own children to people like Hades … Myc didn't know what to say. Holmes the elder had always wanted a child of his own, he couldn't fathom for one instant how someone could decide to just sell theirs.

"He's not lost." The taller man finally explained. "He and a sibling were sold by his parents."

Artemis took a breath. "Brother or sister?"

"I don't know." He plucked several more files off the wall and flicked through them, most indicated contract acquisition but rarely black market purchase did pop up. It was the third to last file he grabbed which finally showed another tick against familial sale and the numbers were only one off. "It's this one, a brother."

With the most calming smile Mycroft could muster he crouched down before the baby's older brother who couldn't have been more than five as he sat on the cold ground in a torn and dirty t-shirt and a far too thin pair of khakis.

"Hello."

The boy made eye contact – which was surprising – but said nothing. Artemis didn't react further but Myc knew he was rage filled enough for both of them. Half the boy's face was covered in an extensive purple and yellow bruise as if he'd been struck with the butt of a pistol; how could a child as young as the one shivering before him have possibly deserved that? The boy shuffled backwards when Myc tried to reach out for him, so much so that he plastered himself against the damp wall and Mycroft wasn't cruel to push further. With his hands raised as non-threateningly as possible he slid himself backwards – something which would have been comical under different circumstances – and gave the boy room.

~X~

It took a few hours but eventually the bodies were moved out of sight by the few soldiers who'd not been injured enough for the children to be removed from their dark prison. As much as Mycroft would have liked it to be the contrary there wasn't a thing the could do about the blood splattered up walls and over floors; quite frankly he'd thought it looked like 'The Shining'. Watching the young ones shield their eyes as they'd emerged into the light had broken Mycroft's heart but at least these kids now had a chance. The other doors had been opened up as well to hostile children of varying degrees, one who must have been either twelve or thirteen had tried to take Lt. Kinsley's ear off with a piece of broken glass but fortunately hadn't had chance to get very far. That had been an isolated incident though thankfully, the other kids had just been terrified and emotionally dead as was standard for Hades drones.

The injured soldiers and children were airlifted out as quietly as possible since they were essentially operating on the Swiss-German Border illegally and didn't need an international incident on their hands; all very clandestine.

From Holmes the elder's glancing he'd established that all the files for the kids were from all over Europe, one even from as far away as Latvia. Hades moved children more efficiently than dedicated child trafficking organizations. He didn't know how many would be able to return to their families but that didn't matter, they had a chance now and Myc kept reminding himself of that key point.

To conserve room in the choppers Artemis kept hold of the little boy she'd comforted while Mycorft sat his brother – who had slowly calmed down but still not spoken – on his knee. The boy was filthy and Myc knew it but for some reason his OCD remained silent, as if even it had been stunned into silence.