Mycroft wandered about his flat aimlessly. He let his fingers glide over the table, and picked up the blanket that had been thrown to the floor to place back on the couch. He was overwhelmed with sorrow, looking at what he was about to lose. He'd gotten so comfortable, so happy in his new life with Gregory. He felt like his insides were ripped out knowing that it was going to end in a bang soon enough. But he knew he deserved that pain. He'd been deceptive, a liar… an unforgivable monster. Gregory was entirely valid in hating him. But… at least he would have the memories to store away and look upon fondly in days to come. He was condemned to be alone, but at least he wouldn't always be alone in his mind.
He sighed.
"I don't want it to end." Mycroft muttered pitifully as he stroked the soft fabric of the blanket Gregory had chosen. He was so anxious for the break up to come, but at the same time, he just wanted it to be over already. He was already mourning the loss. At least Gregory would be happy eventually, not being around him anymore.
Mycroft heard a car stop close by, and then keys in the lock. He stood up straight, as a soldier headed to battle, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Time to face it all.
The door opened, and then slammed.
"MYCROFT!" Greg shouted.
The British Government walked out into the hallway, stiff and tall. His eyes fell upon Gregory. He was indeed furious, but had been crying. He stomped up towards Mycroft, and for a moment, Mycroft felt like he was about to be punched.
Greg bore his eyes into Mycroft.
"You… bastard." Greg breathed dangerously. Mycroft remained silent.
"How could you? How COULD you?! All this time, Myc. All this fucking time… you knew!"
"Yes." Mycroft answered. His voice was cold and devoid of emotion.
"You lied. You deceived me. You deceived John! You lied to us all! Are you that insensitive that you really don't give a fuck how others feel? We don't like being lied to!"
Mycroft lowered his head slightly, and nodded.
"You don't do that in a relationship! I get that you have to have secrets for your job, but fucking hell this takes the cake, Mycroft!"
Mycroft just nodded sullenly again.
"Was there no point when you thought you should tell us? What… John's grieving not enough for you? Was MY grieving not enough for you?! What about how depressed I got? What about me trying to kill myself?! Was even THAT not enough to make you come clean?! Why, tell me why, Mycroft, that you thought so little of our suffering to choose not to put and end to it?"
Mycroft wasn't sure if he should say anything. Greg's voice was like venom, and he was afraid he would be walking into a trap.
"STILL got nothing to say?! Fuck, Mycroft."
"I… I wanted to." Mycroft mumbled.
"What?"
"I always wanted to tell you. Seeing you suffer, knowing I could stop it, was more difficult than I imagined possible. Lying to you was harder than anything I'd had to do. The guilt tore me up inside. But I love you, I wasn't going to risk your life…"
"Do you? Hm? Because this…" Greg thrust his hands around to indicate the situation, "Makes it seem like you don't."
"If you knew, before you were safe… you could have died."
"Save it, Mycroft. I'm a detective. I can hide things. You should have told me. You broke my trust, Mycroft… betrayed me more than I thought you ever could."
Gregory had stopped yelling, and his voice had changed to 'hurting'. Each word stabbed Mycroft in his chest, but he refused to show it. He wouldn't let Gregory see the hurt. Not to spite him… but to make sure he didn't feel like he had to care for a monster like him. He didn't deserve any care from this man anymore, not after what he'd done.
"This is your chance to explain yourself, Mycroft. You get now to explain where I'll listen. And that's it." Greg uttered with that same dangerous voice.
"No." Mycroft whispered, his voice threatening to break his façade.
"WHAT?"
"There is nothing I can say that would excuse me. I love you with all of my heart, and if it kept you alive, I would do it again. I can't make better what I've done, but I will never stop trying to earn your forgiveness." Mycroft said carefully and slowly. He was barely keeping it together.
Greg felt his anger subside. He knew Mycroft thought he was doing the right thing, and sounded guilty over it, but he was still so hurt. So much so, that he didn't know if he'd ever be able to forgive him.
"You … cannot… imagine… the hurt I feel right now. I don't know if I could ever trust you again. And we can't have a relationship with that between us. This is just…I can't."
Greg was losing control of his emotions that the anger was holding back. Tears were threatening to spill over. He had to get out of there.
"Gregory…"
"No. Don't talk. I… I need some space. Some time, some air… something." Greg said, turning around and walking back out of the door.
Mycroft released his hold over himself and let the tears fall. He collapsed to his knees right there in the hall, and lowered his head. He cried. No matter how much he'd tried to prepare for it, it still hurt more than he could have anticipated. There was nothing to stop the pain inside. Gregory was gone, and with him, his heart. It had been ripped out of him, leaving him a broken shell. He toppled over onto his side, grabbing his knees to hold against his chest, and cried harder than he had in a very long time.