So they dug your grave

And the masquerade

Will come calling out

At the mess you've made

"Dr Hooper," Mycroft Holmes begins, in that slow, drawling voice of his. His gaze is steel, staring at her, through her. She looks away, unable to face his stone cold stare. It reminds her of someone else that used to employ that method when he knew she wasn't telling the truth. It used to work, back then, but only because of what he meant to her.

"Mr Homes," she replies with as much equanimity as she can muster. Her voice sounds fairly steady, and she internally sighs in relief.

"There have been many...events recently, for which we were unable to explain the source of information. It would have to be someone close to my brother."

Oh. She realises he is accusing her of betraying Sherlock, and her immediate response is to shake her head, even before he asks her. A move that, she quickly realises, is very easy to turn against her.

"Ah yes, of course, you deny it. Doesn't everyone?" Mycroft crosses his legs, never breaking his gaze. He picks up a thick paper file. "I usually have all of my brother's...associates investigated as and when they walk into his life. You, however, I had made an exception for. Clearly, that was a mistake."

She feels goosebumps raise her flesh as he opens the file. That old, familiar fear, that had haunted her for years after she began her new life. Did he find out?

"There are no records of you, Dr Hooper, from before the year...1991. Why?" He says it calmly, but she feels as if behind the thin layer of ice, he is waiting to burst out at her.

Just like everyone always did, back in her childhood.

"I don't know," she tries, feebly. There were tears in her eyes, and she knew he would never be fooled by the lie. But she had no other options, no prepared fabrication that would get her out freely and safely.

"I see," he replies, his voice betraying no emotions. "I am not a man who believes in chances, Dr Hooper. So I will only ask you once more. Who were you?"

"I ran away at 16. I changed my name and identity, and... here I am." The truth, but not the whole truth. The best she can do, given the circumstances. she hopes it is enough for him, but she doesn't trust it.

"You clearly take me for a fool, Dr Hooper. I had the records searched for anyone matching your description, that went missing, ran away or otherwise disappeared around the time. And lest you had faked your death, I looked at those records too. There is also nothing about the transactions of vast amounts required for the plastic surgery you would need to change your appearance drastically enough. Would you care to explain?"

She remembers the effort she put into the elaborate ruse that was no longer a ruse, but her life. She had no magic, no means of securing an identity. So she had gone to the one person she could trust. Reg. She had shown up at his door in the middle of the night, begging him to do the impossible. He had been able to change her appearance to some degree of permanence, (an experimental spell of his own design), and then Obliviated himself, at her request. And that, had been that. Iris Longbottom was gone forever.

But clearly, she had been wrong. Here she is, being questioned about the very past she has fought to forget.

And she cannot answer. She cannot break the Statue of Secrecy, and neither can she worm her way through this. Her mind goes back to an old thought, of the kind she used to have back in her childhood home. Maybe she should have- No. She stops herself. She promised him she wouldn't, and she wants to keep whatever part of him she still can.

"If you don't comply, I will be forced to take drastic steps."

She doesn't say a word.

"Very well," comes his reply, like a death sentence to her ears.

Notes: Surprise, two updates in less than a week? *gasps* I do want to get this fic finished, though, so yes. 2-3 more chapters I think. :)

(Original found at: .net(slash)s/11953837/1/Irises )

The song lyrics at the beginning are from Imagine Dragons' "Demons".