"Ultra Infirmitatibus Meis"
Chapter 12
"Brave on, little boy, lost in a gray fog. How long will you remain such, before they realize you're not coming back?" pt.2
"And past that, the weight of all on you. All the hopes you carry, fears you fight. You are theirs.
It must be very hard. "
At first all that answered Cassandra's statement was utter silence.
Then… came the dreaded question.
"W-Whatever do you mean, 'there is nothing left for us to fix'?"
And after that...
The heartbreaking answer.
"Sherlock told you that Mycroft no longer sees you as members of his family." She leaned back in her seat. "Why should he listen to what you have to say?"
But Violet wasn't about to give up.
"That doesn't mean he can't be convinced otherwise!" Her eyes shined with hope that wasn't there before. "I'm sure his protective feelings for us can be rekindled if we try!"
But Cassandra only sighed and shook her head.
"I'm afraid that is just not possible, Ms. Holmes."
The couple blinked, their hope dwindling.
"What?"
"Think of Mycroft as a lizard being cornered by a natural predator." The former psychologist explained. "In order to protect itself, a lizard will lose its tail to distract the enemy so that it can get away." She then looked deep into the parents's eyes. "Mycroft's memories and emotional connection to you, is that tail." Her own brown eyes softened. "It will grow back but it won't be the same."
"What are you saying, Ms. Anders?" Siger's eyes were cloudy with unshed tears.
"I'm saying that Mycroft disposed of you. Took each and every memory and emotional connection, and overwrote them with fabricated ones. All to protect his already wounded heart." Cassandra's eyes shined with grief, for such a caring soul should not have been lost. "It is really a wonder that the change occurred nearly effortlessly, considering the circumstances? There was nothing but family loyalty bounding him to you… a connection so easily dealt with, so easily erased..."
"How?" Violet's voice quivered. "How was destroying every good memory and bonds, easy?"
"Is it not simpler to forget you had something, than to deal with the emptiness it left behind?" Cassandra asked. "That is exactly what your son did. Instead of grieving for the family he lost… he convinced himself it was never his to begin with." Her eyes peered at them somberly. "He thought himself dead to you, my dears. Can you really blame him for wanting to get rid of that pain?"
They stared at her silently, not knowing what to say.
Cassandra let them stew in that revelation, while she went to the kitchen to refill their teacups.
When she came back the couple was cuddling each other, seeking comfort in their embrace.
"Ms. Anders?" Violet's voice reached the elder lady's ears, soft and fearful. "Is there... really nothing we can do?"
Cassandra really wanted to say 'no'.
To tell them that their son can be saved, and restored to the man he was before.
But that would be a lie.
And she's not a liar.
"I'm afraid that is true." She answered solemnly. "After all… you cannot bring back something he doesn't remember having."
Emptiness.
That's what he sees when he looks into the eyes of the man reflected in the glass surface.
Utter emptiness.
He can't remember if they were always like that.
He can't even recall the last time he paid so much attention to his reflection.
It didn't matter.
Icy-blue eyes blinked back at him.
There were many words to describe those orbs.
Cold...
Emotionless...
Dead...
Soulless...
The list of similar descriptions was nearly endless.
But to him they were only one thing.
Free.
The doctors lead the brown haired woman into the operating room.
Free of guilt.
Free of sentiment.
Free of weakness.
It's obvious she's already drugged, as she makes no move to resist when they lay her down on the table and cuff her arms and legs.
He can't show compassion.
He can't show mercy.
He can't show he cares.
The doctors put on their white gloves, shaky hands steadied by a sip of alcohol a few minutes before.
Could he still be considered human?
He might want to look into their little habit once this is over.
Maybe, maybe not.
It doesn't really matter.
He watches as the nurses gently shave off the woman's beautiful straight hair, and hook her right arm into an IV containing anesthetics.
Being human means being bendable.
Being human means having loved ones that can be killed.
Being human means having weaknesses.
His eyes followed the scalpel as it hovered over the woman's temple, inches away from touching skin.
Any second now… and it will begin.
He thinks about all this and comes to the conclusion that, he doesn't mind being a monster.
An unseen cue has been given, and the lead doctor sliced into the woman's porcelain skin over her temple.
A tiny voice in the back of his head tells him he should feel something.
He doesn't.
Why would he want to be human if, in order to win a war against monsters...
He stares blankly at the drop of blood flowing down the woman's cheek from the long cut.
His eyes followed as it passed her ear, landed on the silver table, and finally disappeared out of sight.
Empty.
He still feels empty.
One must become a monster himself.
AN: Yes, it's short. Yes, I'm working on a longer one. This is just a small appetizer. Alos, kudos to those who know where that quote came from and who said it.