Full title is 'Living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul' and is a quote from Dave Pelzer's 'A Child Called It'

TRIGGER WARNINGS for discussions of severe child abuse and the emotion effect caused on children, child neglect, forced sterilization.

XXXX

Upon returning to England after their little annihilation attempt, Mycroft made sure to see to it that the children were given the best medical treatment Britain had to offer, he further ensured that the kids were all checked against as many missing children's databases as they had access to; he already knew at least five had been located as being from France and Italy. These children would find it impossible to just go back to normal but he kept reminding himself they stood a chance now. The auburn-haired man had also made sure that Scarlett Kinsley got promoted as well, she'd proven to be invaluable when the reports had come in and after seeing Colonel Henley's promotion recommendation Mycroft had made certain of it.

As soon as they'd returned though he'd been faced with just how much paperwork he had to complete, reports to be read then reported on themselves. If he'd not thrived on bureaucracy Mycroft would have chucked himself out a window years ago. Lestrade would have likely called it 'swamped with paperwork' but with the stack before Myc as he sat in his home office he knew 'drowning in' was probably a better description. To get it completed he'd had to avoid Sir Edwin and Lady Smallwood since arriving home, hence why he was in his home office and not the one at MI6. Furthermore, he'd circumvented his little brother for two days because there was no way he'd just drop everything to aid Sherlock locate some weird type of hairspray for his latest case; the resources of MI6 were for covert missions and country defence not so Sherlock could find a hairspray brand quicker. That was how Holmes the elder had ended up silent and locked away for just over forty-eight hours straight.

The hours would have continued to mount had the old grandfather clock – which had once belonged to Uncle Rudy – not decided to chime loudly and echo around the house. It was then, as silence returned that Mycroft realized he'd not seen Artemis in almost two days either, sure he'd spied her when he'd finally grown ravenous enough to locate himself some toast but the couple hadn't really said anything to one another.

The dishevelled man sighed; dishevelled was probably a kind description since he'd not changed nor showered since he'd gotten home. Slowly Mycroft lifted himself out of his desk chair and stretched almost obscenely, his long limbs had been in the same position much too long. At some point he'd shed his suit jacket, could have been five minutes could have been a day ago, and his tie had suffered the same fate not long afterwards. On the plane trip home he'd scrubbed at his hands and under his fingernails until all the dirt and blood had gone, his OCD had forced it, but somehow he'd managed to stuff it away in order to get his work done. Now though? Now, Myc had realized how much of a mess he was and felt the screaming in the back of his brain start to ramp up, yell for a shower and clean clothes, to just burn the crinkled suit he wore along with his shoes. Logically he knew he should go and find Artemis, she'd not been the same since they'd stormed that bunker and he really should have checked on her, shown care for the woman who was to be his bride, but in a blink he found himself stood in his bathroom and knew he'd never stand a chance of searching for her while the OCD screamed violently.

As the water washed the grime away the angry voice started to retreat and Mycroft acted quickly to stuff it back inside the box he kept in in; safer for all that way. He shampooed his hair and felt the two days of grease vanish down the drain and by the time he was done Mycroft once again felt like a person rather than some discarded piece of clothing which had gone ignored for months in the laundry hamper. It hadn't taken him too long, maybe fifteen minutes, and soon he was out, dry and dressed in a pair of pinstriped pants and a white shirt, the sleeves of which he rolled up to his elbows. For a moment blue eyes spied the micro tattoo on his wrist, the A so small it was hardly visible at first glance. Mycroft needed to find her, he loved her.

The tall man found the entire house in darkness when he went in search of Artemis, night had fallen long ago – or maybe it was early morning now – but there wasn't a single light on anywhere. Mycroft didn't bother to switch any on either, he'd lived in that house for years so navigating it in the dark wasn't an issue for him.

The British Government already knew she wasn't in their bedroom and the bed hadn't looked as though it had been slept in since their return. When he made his way downstairs and into the library – her usual haunt – it was just as void of life, as was the living room and the kitchen. Just when he was ready to head down into her little basement hideaway he spotted a shadow at the large window in his dining room and instantly recognized it as the perfect curves of his emerald-eyed fiancée. Slowly and quietly he approached her, she never turned to face him but he knew she was aware of his presence. He paused to gaze at her lit only by the moonlight, maybe it would have been better to finally turn on a light but selfishly Mycroft chose not to, he'd always enjoyed the sight of Artemis' skin bathed in the light of the moon; it was as beautiful as liquid sliver.

"What are you doing in here, Artemis?" Asked Mycroft softly as he approached her; his footsteps squeaked the old wood ever so slightly. "Are you all right?"

Finally he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his chest to her back. Artemis let him pull her close without protest but didn't remove her attention from the trees in the distance.

"I am always all right, Mycroft." She finally responded.

Mycroft was a smart man, a genius, had a brain which had been deemed remarkable even in childhood so he was entirely aware that she wasn't always okay.

"Don't lie to me, my love." He pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder as they stood together. "What is bothering you?"

The scarred beauty made no attempt to snuggle into him which Mycroft found a little disheartening but nor did she pull away.

"What will happen to the children we discovered?" Was all she asked, voice level and bland.

"I told you," Mycroft began, "they'll be returned to their families if possible and those of unknown origin or deceased families shall be put into foster care for adoption." He left another kiss on her shoulder. "Why do you ask?"

"What of the two boys who had been sold by their own parents?" She continued with no attempt to answer his questions. "The younger will probably have a perfectly normal life but the elder one has already see the evil Hades is capable of. He knows what it is like." A pause, hardly there. "I wonder if he has been as damaged as I am. He will not be wanted either."

Mycroft's heart clenched and nearly broke as he finally forced her to turn around and face him which she allowed he knew she allowed it because no one could force her to do something she didn't want to.

"You are wanted, you hear me?" He announced far more forcefully than he'd imagined. "You are very much wanted and always will be. You're going to be my wife, Artemis." Long fingers of his right hand came up to tuck a loose strand of raven hair back behind her ear so as he could see her face. "I will always want you, always love you, I promise."

Artemis regarded him a moment then rose onto her tip-toes so she could kiss him, it wasn't a passionate kiss or particularly long, but it did resonate with understanding and the love she had for him.

"And how many other Mycroft Holmes' are there in the world?" She questioned. "The boy will be alone and unloved, Hades still wins, do you not see that?" Artemis' voice remained level and calm which somehow made her words all the worse. "Hades will always triumph because the damage has already been done. The same shall be true for many, if not all, of the other children we located." Mycroft tightened his grip on her; an automatic response. "Being alive does not mean they will live. Surviving and living are not the same thing, Mycroft."

Oh the auburn-haired man would have killed to hear her call him 'British' in that moment, just once. He hated that she was right, hated that all those kids, that the baby she'd found, not had number tattoos in their hairlines just as Artemis did. Mostly though, he hated that she was correct. There weren't other people like Mycroft out there in the world, so who was going to love those boys? Yes, kind-hearted people would try but they'd never understand what the boys had been through and eventually grow tired of it or lose their ability to cope with it all and give up. Some would certainly argue that they wouldn't ever give up but Myc had seen enough children thrown into the system in his line of work to know they would eventually. Those people would try and it was commendable but in due course it would all end simply because they couldn't understand. Then there were the people like Sir Edwin and Lady Smallwood, those who would just see them as a threat and want nothing to do with them, never give them a chance. If it had all been left up to Lady Smallwood then Artemis would have been tossed right back into that cell despite Artemis having saved Elizabeth's life. Yes, Mycroft hated that his bride to be was so disturbingly right. And what if the elder boy did manage to heal to a point he could function in the world only for the younger to question where the tattoos came from? Would that rip down all the walls again and untether them from society again? Artemis was very right, living and surviving were not the same thing and all he could do was hold her as tight as possible against his warm, freshly showered, chest.

"The children will be fine." He assured her, or maybe he assured himself.

Myc couldn't confirm they'd be all right, they'd get medical treatment and his people wouldn't harm them but after that he'd got no idea. He wanted them to be okay, hated the idea of any child suffering even for a single moment. He wasn't a violent man but nature but if Hades had ever tried to do those things to Violet he'd fucking rip them apart. Children were the only true innocents in his mind and Hades had done all it could to corrupt even that simple axiom. God-dammit Artemis was right and he hated it!

It struck the tall man then as he held her at just how much she really cared, holding the little boy had switched on her mothering instinct and probably made her oddly felt emotions all the more confusing for her. Everything Hades had done to her and yet she still cared. Mycroft knew just how much Vi had taken to her, had Hades not done what they had then Artemis would have probably made a wonderful mother. Hell, Hades had even stolen that ability from her.

A wave of nausea washed over him suddenly, the medical reports had said that almost all of the children over eight had already had it stolen from them as well. How long would it have been until the same forced sterilization was forced upon the silent boy who'd sat on his knee?

That boy had been no more than five and yet already emotionless. His parents had likely been extremely poor and unable to care for two young children, it was doubtful they'd truly known what selling their children to Hades would entail … or perhaps they'd just not wanted to know. Still, the two boys would grow and learn, hopefully adjust well but they'd never have someone who understood; he didn't even fully understand the horror Artemis had suffered.

The auburn-haired man didn't wish to think of all this evil and darkness a moment longer, he needed to change the subject and cling to his love.

"Are you hungry?" Mycroft asked softly; who knew when Artemis had last eaten.

"No."

"Then I think we should go to bed and finally get some sleep." He coaxed. "Come along."

Artemis let him move her towards the stairs and up them while Mycroft thought this was the first time he'd seen her so … sad. He didn't actually know if that was the right word or not but sad was how he came to describe it. What seemed like forever ago now he'd said that Hades had locked her up and taken her soul, he just despised that when he'd returned it he'd not given it back whole.

It didn't take him long to get her upstairs and she easily stripped out of her clothes and clambered into bed naked, unusual for Artemis but not unheard of, while he changed into his pyjamas and went to brush his teeth. In hindsight he should have just put them on when he'd gotten out the shower. He peered at himself in the bathroom mirror, his eyes had dark circles around them and his skin was paler than usual, he didn't know how much sleep he'd get but Myc certainly needed some.

When he returned to their room he found Artemis asleep, he envied her for the ability to shut off the horror long enough for slumber to take hold. Often he wondered if she dreamed and if so of what.

Minty fresh he got into bed, pleased for the sheets over his cold feet, and settled. Artemis used to wake up with every movement he made but no longer did her subconscious seem to find him a threat and so he could often watch her sleep now; always so heavenly.

God did he need sleep, his eyelids were heavy but he just couldn't get his ever working to stop seeing the elder boy staring at him or Artemis as she held the younger one close. It just kept playing like a film on repeat and he have really liked for it to stop. After around two hours and nature threatening him with a rising sun he finally have up and got out of bed then headed to his office. Myc still wanted sleep but the fact that Artemis was getting some would have to be good enough for the both of them.

Not once had a light been switched on, not even when he'd brushed his teeth.

~X~

Mycroft Holmes sat in his office that Thursday afternoon drumming his fingers against his desk while his sushi slowly became room temperature while Greg ate happily in the guest chair opposite him. The silver-haired man had been dubious about coming back into Myc's office ever since the whole murder-murder situation but had set that reservation aside and settled back into pleasant lunches with his best friend after a while. Usually Artemis would occupy the other guest chair beside Greg but had opted to train MI6's new guards herself to prevent a fuck up like last time.

Brown eyes settled on Mycroft a moment and then an eyebrow lifted as Greg finished chewing on his spicy tuna roll and swallowed. Mycroft hadn't picked up his chopsticks once.

"Myc, are you listening to a damn word I've said?"

"Hmm?" The suit clad man finally clicked back to the world around him and out of whatever fantasy world he'd been in. "Sorry, Gregory, I apologize, I was thinking. I have been rather distracted as of late."

"Yeah, I don't need to be Sherlock to figure that one out." He took a swig of water before he continued. "You haven't been right since you came back from whatever hidden secret plan you couldn't tell me about. What's going on? I'm getting worried about you and not in the 'you haven't slept again' way although that one is true as well. You're my friend and I don't like seeing you like this."

Mycroft took a breath. "Your concern is appreciated but not needed."

"Oh I think it is." Greg was a detective inspector for a reason. "What's wrong, Myc? And don't give me crap about it being secret, just tell me what has made you like this."

Mycroft sighed deeply and chose his words carefully. "The organization that Artemis worked for-"

Greg cut him off. "Hades?"

"Yes." The auburn-haired man confirmed with a slight nod. "We have been attempting to shut them down, we've done surprisingly well actually but-" he paused a moment then and again sighed. "Do you remember the story I told you at Baker Street, of how Artemis and I first met, of how she was so young?"

The policeman straightened a little in his chair as his relaxed nature faded. "You told us they took kids."

"Yes, well, Hades has been forced to retreat and we located another of their outposts. It took a long time to get in there but we managed it. There were children in there all locked in cold rooms. Some where still infants, Gregory, infants."

Greg set his half-eaten sushi tray down, suddenly he didn't feel like eating. He didn't say a word, just let his friend talk. He knew the man bottled things up and hardly ever spoke of his real feelings, would have been content not to have any half the time. Still, Greg Lestrade knew Mycroft better than anyone else, probably even Sherlock, he knew Myc's real problem wasn't that he didn't care or that he didn't want to, it was that he cared too much. So yes, Greg let his friend talk because there was no way in fuck that man would go to a therapist.

"We brought them all back alive. Some get to go home, others will have to be adopted. But you didn't see their eyes, Gregory, those children are not just traumatized – well, some of them are but they're the younger ones and they're lucky – the vast majority of them are just dead inside." Mycroft hadn't ever sounded so … disconsolate. "Like dolls. Broken but not re-programmed yet, just blank slates unthinking and unfeeling."

Lestrade took a deep breath once Mycroft had finished speaking; he still hadn't made eye contact.

"Well, if nothing else you, Artemis and your people have given them a chance." Greg had been part of the odd child abduction or murder case but this was so much worse. "It won't ever be the same but they're alive and get to live because of what you've done. You're a good man, Mycroft."

The auburn-haired man smiled but it was sorrowful and forced, Greg had seen that look before when he'd as if Myc was okay after Eurus had gone on her mini rampage.

"Very few people believe that, Gregory."

Greg shrugged. "Well I believe it enough for a dozen people."

That is stupid and they both know it but still it makes Mycroft chuckle and finally look at his fiend.

"Do you really think those children will get to live? Artemis doesn't. She thinks some will adjust but the ones who had been with Hades longer will be left to fend for themselves eventually, that they'll just be seen as disturbing and difficult, more effort than they're worth. She believes that most would just label them as psychopath or sociopath because they don't know any better just as has happened with Artemis." Mycroft raked a large hand down his face. "She believes that surviving and living are not the same thing and I am inclined to agree with her."

The police detective sat a moment in thought, kids were always the worst part of their jobs because if children were involved then it was going to be bad regardless.

"Yeah, it's going to be hard for them but surely there are more people like you out there who can understand. I mean John puts up with Sherlock, actually fell in love with the curly-haired prick."

"Ah, but Sherlock does feel, he just pretends he doesn't or ignores them in others." Mycroft pointed out all to obviously.

"There you go," Greg beamed jovially, "these kids already have a head start then, they were tortured but it doesn't mean they're dicks like your brother."

Oh it was terrible and probably a little inappropriate for the situation but it made Mycroft chuckle without him forcing it and Gregory delighted in his accomplishment. Myc knew this was what Lestrade had intended, whenever he seemed even a tiny but upset or disturbed by the demands of his job Greg went straight into trying to make his friend laugh. Quite frankly it was part of the reason Mycroft was so grateful to have Greg as a friend and wouldn't have traded him for the world.

Silence lingered between the two men for several moments, they'd seen too much in their lives and knew more would come yet. After a while the DI reached for his sushi once more, an automatic reaction, but quickly remembered why he'd set it aside on Myc's desk in the first place; in that second he chose not to eat for the rest of the day.

"There were two children." Began Mycroft through the uneasy quietude and Greg actually found himself surprised, he'd assumed the conversation was over with. "A boy of no more than five and his brother who is just shy of a year. Their parents had sold them to Hades." Greg's mouth unceremoniously hung open at that statement. "The younger will probably adjust but what of his brother? He knows his parents have him and his sibling away to those monsters, he wasn't kidnapped or stolen away, he was handed over readily. His eyes were deader than even Artemis' when we first met, in fact the life in her eyes were what stopped her killing me. That boy never said a word."

"Fucking hell, they're kids!" Exclaimed Lestrade as his fists clenched and unclenched subconsciously. "What is wrong with people? There are people selling, raping, abusing their own children like they're nothing but trade goods and then there people like you who would adore to have one, to love them and-" Greg fell silent when brown orbs noticed blue-gray ones watching him; Greg cleared his throat. "Sorry, Myc. It's just- it isn't right. If anyone tried to do those things to Violet I'd crucify them."

The slightly younger man nodded. "I know, Gregory, I feel much the same."

Lestrade snorted. "Of course you do, you're basically a second dad to her at this point." He sighed, he did a lot of that around the Holmes brothers. "I really am sorry though, I didn't mean to make you feel worse. I just meant that a lot of the time the wrong people are allowed to be parents."

Mycroft let out a little hum, when he spoke he did his best to keep his voice steady and level but Greg knew his friend well enough to know that he was just hiding his sorrow.

"Yes, I understand, I am not offended."

What Myc didn't tell the policeman was that he was a little offended. He'd always wanted to be a father and now not only had Sherlock managed to stumble into it without any real want but Mycroft had been left to just clean up after Hades as best he could. He felt as though he was forced to glue what could be salvaged of their souls back together. Sherlock got fatherhood and Mycroft got a bloody jigsaw. Depressing much, muttered his mind.

"I have to get back to the Yard but why don't we go for a drink later, yeah? Not your club but an actual pup for a change." Lestrade sounded hopeful.

"This is you trying to take my mind off things, Gregory?"

"Can't pull the wool over your eyes." The silver-haired man smirked up at him. "You up for it?"

Usually Holmes the elder avoided bars and pubs like double denim with aviators, they'd never been his sort of places and he couldn't stand that the tables where often sticky, but Greg may have had a point. That was how Mycroft found himself giving a sigh and then conceding.

"Very well. I shall pick you up from Scotland Yard later tonight unless you find yourself with a new case."

Greg didn't bother asking how his best friend knew when he clocked off any longer, Myc knew everything and it was easier just to accept that rather than fight it.

Pleased with Myc's answer Greg got to his feet and slipped his coat – which had been over the back of his chair – back on. He big his taller friend goodbye and then headed for the narrow door, he'd just started to pull it open when he paused and turned back. Mycroft hadn't moved an inch and once again he'd started to stare off at the walls.

"Look, I know it isn't the same, and I know that wild horses couldn't keep my girl from you but … you'll always have Violet."

Then he was gone back to the life of a detective inspector and Mycroft turned to peer at the door just as his coat tails vanished into the outer office. Mycroft was truly grateful but Lestrade had been right, it just wasn't the same. Still, the auburn-haired man had long ago accepted his lonesome fate. He'd thought he'd be alone forever but now he was a de facto uncle to both Violet and young Rosie, then there was the fact he's soon be called husband. It was far more than he'd expected from his life and Mycroft would be thankful for it as long as he lived. He couldn't ever expect anything more.

Anthea knocked on the door then and only entered when she heard his deep 'come in'. The dark-haired woman had a rather thick file in her hands which she set down before him as soon as she was close enough.

"You asked for a report on all of the children once they'd been processed and begun relocation. Most are still in hospital due to dehydrated and bruising though, sir."

He offered her a kind smile. "Thank you, Charlotte, that will be all."

Anthea nodded then silently gathered up Greg's half eaten sushi and the untouched tray Mycroft had sat in front of him before she headed back out to the outer office to leave her boss in peace. Honestly she didn't know why she bothered fetching food for him, he rarely ate it. Maybe she should go get him a slice of apple pie or something, he'd not want to eat it because he hardly ever ate and always insisted he was on a diet but he'd eat it any way because apple pie was sweet and that was where his strong will fell down dead most of the time. If the boss complains I'll just claim it's okay because there is fruit in it.

Meanwhile, back in his office, Mycroft opened the file and started to read through it even though it was reluctantly. Did he really want to know every sin those children had gone through? There were so many of them. Most it seemed had files in the missing children's databases for various countries, some had even been labelled as runaways. Disturbingly almost all of them would need to be put into care until prospective adoptive parents were found, mostly because their families had been killed, while others would have to be returned to other countries because they couldn't speak English yet. Some, the lucky ones, would be able to live with aunts, uncles, grandparents and other more distant relatives. Then there were the truly unlucky ones, the ones who had no connection to anywhere that they could find, children who no one knew existed until those metal doors had been opened in the Nazi bunker.

The British Government paused when he saw the five-year old boy and his brother. One another were the only blood likes MI6 with all its resources had been able to confirmed; truly alone. Even of their biological parents were found they couldn't go back to them, no way in hell would they be returned to those who had sold them. His heart twinged as he read the list of medical issues the boys had, like everybody they were dehydrated and malnourished as well as lacking in vitamin D. However, the elder boy had a deep cut on his left palm which would undoubtedly scar and a cracked rib which Mycroft forced himself not to think about. The boy still hadn't said a single word nor sound effect, he could speak, he just wouldn't and Mycroft couldn't blame him for that.

The man with blue-gray eyes thought back to what Artemis had told him the previous night and he still hated that she was right. Artemis had already seen the lives of those boys play out in her mind. Myc swallowed and looked between the photographs of the brothers, sighed deeply and then reached for his phone.