Broken glass and shattered dreams,

Tears unshed,

Wish to flow in streams.


Time seemed frozen amidst the chaos around them, her body pressed to his as her lips fell open in a silent scream, eyes wide in fear and horror, something he thought he would never see upon her face.

The blood oozed into the fabric of her dress, a clean shot through the heart as her hands began to cling to him with the last of her strength that began to fade, eyes meeting his own as tears began to run free for the first time in so many years since her childhood as she struggled for words.

"Sh-she always said… My heart was my weakness"

"Hazel, focus on me and do not speak. Help is being dispatched!"

His words sounded foreign to his own ears, panicked as he held her to him with a sense of desperation. She couldn't leave him now; she was meant to be indestructible. It wasn't meant to end this way!

"I'm sorry… Mycroft. All things must die… All life must one-day fade… It is worth a bullet to my only weak spot, knowing that it was to save you"

Her eyes fluttered shut only moments after the words passed her lips, a tragic smile painted upon them as he heard his own sorrow rip from him in a mournful shout, failing to register as the private ambulance crew took her away to the hospital, vaguely aware of their words:

"There's still a pulse, it's weak but it's there! We have to move quickly!"

How had it come to this?


I want to start again,

Pretend the scars can fade,

Masquerade a smile,

And forget the horror,

My life has made.


Three months earlier:

It was laughable really he thought as he watched the lethal little woman before him, her eyes trained into a venomous glare and aimed towards the offensive object in his hands. Whilst she admitted that it was a lovely piece of clothing, she would not wear it.

"No"

"It is not so much a debate as it is a mission requirement Hazel"

She scowled at him, snatching the dress from his grasp and holding it full length before her as she stuck her tongue out in childish annoyance. Mycroft could only chuckle at the display, such a curious little woman. Since she had revealed the nature of her birth, he had found that, once her mask had dropped and she had learned to trust him a little more, a more playful, vaguely childish side of her had become more prominent amongst her traits, almost as if she were finally allowing herself the simple joy of forming her own unique personality.

"I don't wear fancy dresses Mycroft; simple knee lengths are my limit"

"It is a must, my dear, if you are to accompany me to this soirée. Nothing less than utter grace and elegance will be accepted"

Rolling her eyes and placing the dress carefully over the back of a chair, she turned her full attention upon him, weight placed mostly upon one leg and hip jutted out slightly, eyebrow quirked upwards as she regarded him. Sassy. Another trait she was beginning to develop. He was yet to decide whether this was a good or a bad thing.

"Grace and elegance? Count me out on those points then, you may need to find a new partner, I have the dance skills of a one legged drunk and the social graces of a disgruntled monkey. Don't worry though, if you need me at all, I'll be in the rafters with a sniper rifle"

With a quick thumb up, she attempted to make a getaway from the politician, only to have him block her path with a devious smile upon his lips. That was definitely not a good sign for her. In the same sense that she had begun to open up to him, the effects were vice versa. He began to show her more of his own true nature, the truly wicked sense of humour that often targeted towards his little brother, the love of all things high quality whether it be his sense in fashion or the food he ate. He had even expressed an interest in music, something she hadn't thought his computer like mind would appreciate, though it was mainly classical.

"You can't dance? I would have thought one as light footed as yourself would be a natural"

She began to back up slightly, watching as he prowled towards her like a predator, a teasing smirk upon his lips still as she held her hands up in mock surrender.

"Assassinations and bomb disposal doesn't usually require any dancing… I'm pretty certain I'd be a lot less secretive if I pulled a gun out mid-waltz, and significantly less successful if I did a quick foxtrot while cutting either the blue or the red wire"

He couldn't fight back the chuckle at her reply to his goading, a fondness gripping him as he came to a quick decision.

"You make a fair point. However, for this particular mission, it is a must that you be able to dance even slightly if you are to be on my arm for the evening"

"Oh wow… I feel so privileged sir"

Her tone rang strong with sarcasm as she mock-curtseyed for him, attempting once more to get past him, only to have him take her arm, both rolling their eyes in unison as the little debate continued.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, sweet Hazel. I shall speak with my brother. He was always the better dancer, and far better suited to teaching you the basics at least"

"Again, I'd prefer to be in the rafters with my beloved rifle and maybe a few smoke bombs. Can't you just find a goldfish eager to climb the social or career ladder?"

"I find it is your company I favour in this matter. I have no taste for those who would use me to climb the ladder and I find that you are far more interesting than the goldfish you refer too. My decision will not be changed so consider it an order"

"Bugger"


*The next day*

"And one, two, three, one, two. Ouch, that was my foot! Be more careful for god's sake!"

"Well apologies if dancing around a lab isn't my ideal place to learn! Don't blame me when you're the one who refused to leave until your damn corpse was ready for 'experiments'!"

Mycroft could only pinch the bridge of his nose as he listened to the bickering of Hazel and his brother, letting out the smallest sigh of exasperation. The atmosphere, in a words, was tense. Hazel had not been thrilled to be back in any form of laboratory, for obvious personal reasons, and Sherlock, for equally good reasons, was not thrilled to be in the company of the assassin that had conned her way into the house of Mummy and father.

"You look stressed"

Looking to the side, he gave a polite smile to Molly Hooper, the pathologist who seemed ever present whenever he visited St. Bart's. A charming enough young woman with a moderate level of intelligence compared to his own, though he often questioned her mental state for the feelings she so clearly harboured towards his brother. Nothing could be said for her taste in men clearly.

"I would not go so far as to say stressed Dr. Hooper. I would venture more towards exasperated"

She nodded her head slightly, seeming to agree with him as she began to watch the pair of unwilling dance partners, occasionally having to cover her mouth for fear of laughing whenever the pair began to argue over the silliest of things.

"They're almost child-like, aren't they?"

At those words, he found himself smiling a little more honestly, never once taking his eyes from Hazel or how she fumbled with the steps that Sherlock attempted to teach, how she would get frustrated when she failed and then stick her tongue out at the younger Holmes when he reprimanded her. Or how beautiful her smile would be when she finally began to succeed.

"I think you are right, Dr. Hooper. They seem to be quite alike. Both awkward in any social situation, argumentative and more fragile than they wish to believe"

Molly turned her eye upon him then, confusion in her eyes as she seemed to ask him silently to explain only to have him give a simpering laugh.

"But we shall not tell them such things, they would surely rally against us at such a notion. You may not realise it, but my brother is not as indestructible as he likes to believe and neither is dear Miss Nova, though for vastly different reasons"

It had become an unspoken rule between both himself and Hazel: Only he could use her true name, but never in public. It was a personal thing for them both, a sign of friendship and strangely intimate he found. He liked it more than he cared to admit, the idea that it was a secret for them alone to share.

Molly felt her jaw loosen slightly in shock, refusing to let it truly drop as she looked at him. She'd never really paid much attention to Mycroft Holmes, often finding him far too intimidating and cold to attempt even the smallest of conversations whenever he visited the morgue, but now, as he trained his eye solely upon the woman before them, she saw a different side of him.

"You really care about her, don't you?"

He turned incredulous eyes upon the pathologist, expression suddenly becoming like stone as she continued to smile at him.

"I don't know what you mean Miss Hooper. I have never considered caring to be an advantage and nor shall I ever"

"I guess it's not as obvious to you, someone who views the world in facts and figures instead of beating hearts and constant emotions. But I can see it. Whenever you've visited the hospital before, you always seemed almost robotic, so detached, but since you arrived this morning with Miss Nova, you've been smiling whenever she looks at you, your eyes actually have a gleam to them… You seem more alive for having her near you"

She stopped for a moment, choosing to ignore the constant icy gaze he chose to send her way before continuing.

"I wouldn't say it's love Mr Holmes. But it's definitely clear that she means a lot to you"

A feeling of ice in his veins shot through him at her words as she gave a final, friendly smile before turning her attention back to Sherlock, who seemed to have given up completely on the days dance lesson with an exclamation of 'It will do for now', as Molly tried to speak with him and hint at a possible date.

Hazel simply shrugged and made her way back to Mycroft's side, seeming to notice the uneasiness in his stance. She had heard everything, her bio-enhanced hearing unable to ignore the conversation as an uncomfortable feeling had shot through her own stomach, almost like butterflies she thought. She'd never experienced it before, love in its truest sense or form. Part of her felt that she never wanted too. She was too dangerous, too hellish for any man to ever love, let alone care for. What had happened to her only friend was testimony enough to the fact.

"You can't hide such a conversation from me Mr Holmes. But don't worry, such feelings will pass as you learn more. I am not a creature worth loving, nor should anyone ever consider it. There are far more worthy women for such sentiment than I"

He frowned as she turned to leave the lab, her own cold mask firmly back in place as a distance seemed to grow between them once more. She was attempting to put distance between them once more, but why? For his own safety perhaps, or perhaps for her own? Possibly both. As he followed, he found the warmth in his chest grow even stronger at her decision to spare them both possible pain.

'If only you could see it for yourself, never have I known a woman more deserving of love than you, my beautiful Hazel'

For the first time in his life, Mycroft found himself genuinely considering the idea of a companion, someone he could truly envision spending the rest of his days with. It was a frightening thought but, strangely enough, not in a bad sense. Perhaps he was merely blinded by his curiosity of her, but something told him it was much more than that.


Hey guys, just to give you a quick heads up on the next few chapters: the next two or three chapters are going to be time skips that lead up to Hazel being shot, in that time I'll be explaining how being shot through the heart is bad news for her despite her mutation. We'll also be seeing how the relationship between Mycroft and Hazel develops and see the introduction of an unexpected saviour in their hour of need.

Thanks to everyone for supporting so far, hope you all continue to enjoy it as we carry on with the story :)

CrimsonDagger