Here we are! Back again, with more Sherlock! Now we have the consequences of this verse's version of Reichenbach Falls, Moriarty, his web, and even some Mary! (warning, if you like Mary Morstan... know that I really, really don't, so, well, cannot say sorry about that, because I'm really not, but this is just how my muse wanted to do things, hope you'll deal). Here I handle the whole Moriarty thing a bit differently than I have in other Sherlock fics, mostly influenced by some things that have come up, either in TAB, fics, forums, etc. Still, I liked how it turned out. Also, we'll be touching on events from my fic "Nexus", we're already at 2015 people! The events of TtDW and the way they affected people in more ways than was shown in Nexus. Also, other things from that same fic (you'll see... I'm beginning to put all my ducks in a row...). And a wedding!
For this chapter the song is "Never Stop" by SafetySuit, the wedding version please (this time I really couldn't find a female cover I liked enough, so I'm leaving you with the original version).
Never Stop
Let the universe know, that now and forever, you're the only one for me.
We came across our past (figuratively) three time in 2014, in the months following Sherlock Holmes's fall (and of course we were aware it was all a trick... though Mycroft had no idea how we'd found out, exactly).
The first time was in Ireland. My husband and I were there, under the cover of a sort-of second honeymoon, while our true focus was to research Richard Brooks. It was the biggest spanner into us being able to prove Sherlock's innocence, and his genius. Because, it turned out, Richard Brooks did exist, he'd been an actor, disappearing after the cancellation of his show, around the time most believed he'd have had to declare himself bankrupt, judging by all his debts... I could still remember what Rose had told us, just before leaving:
"He is Richard Brooks indeed, that is no lie." She'd said, her voice gaining an odd cadence, which reminded me of the elves. "Yet he is also Jim Moriarty. He's one and the other, he's both... and deep in the very center of the web where he loves to play, an even more dangerous Spider still lays... this death is not the end..."
We'd been able to draw a number of conclusions from that: first, Richard Brooks did exist, the man had had two identities. That one was actually easy to process; considering all the names I had (Arianna Kinross, Silbhé Salani -throwing the Hvedrungr name in for good measure-, Rossi Zabo, Risa Grayson, Arianna Stark-Serrure, Nightingale, Canary, Tinúviel, Lalaith...). Yes, a man being both Richard Brooks and Jim Moriarty was easy enough. It was the latter half of her speech that truly worried us. The fact that there was someone else behind him, that Moriarty wasn't the true head of that web...
Sherlock was out there in the world, hunting down criminals, slicing pieces of the web, one at a time; trying to find the snipers that had put his loved ones in danger... but what would happen if the true leader of the crime syndicate found him? Realized that it'd all been a ruse? Would that put Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, John and possibly myself in danger again; or Sherlock?
There was nothing we could do about that, though. John had to remain visible, in case someone was still keeping watch, make sure no one so much as suspected it was all a trick. Serrure and I weren't quite as limited, yet we couldn't just drop our responsibilities and disappear, that risked calling way too much attention. So we pretended vacations, and weekend breaks and helped where we could.
So we were in Ireland, trying to track Richard Brooks past, trying to discover where the switch between the two identities had occurred exactly. The most obvious moment would be after he disappeared, following his failure as an actor; but that had been so sudden, the change had to have begun before, or if not, there had to have been some clue, we needed to find his connection to whoever the other spider was; it was the only way.
We never expected to find none other than Phil Coulson and Darcy Lewis... they'd been on a mission of their own, a failure according to what little they told us. I could tell they didn't realize we weren't the same Loki and Nightingale that had left Midgard several weeks earlier to attend to duties commanded by Odin Allfather. Still, we didn't say anything.
The greatest surprise, though, was when we ended being two of four witnesses to Phil's and Darcy's wedding, before the end of the weekend.
It just so happened that the small town where we were, was pagan, they even had a priestess, and it was she who married them. Darcy and Phil had decided beforehand not to marry legally; as their marriage wasn't the kind of information (leverage) they wanted to give SHIELD. (And to think they didn't know about Hydra...) A handfasting ceremony was good enough for them. I wasn't sure who'd called Natasha and Clint, though. They purchased the rings, claddagh, as they knew Darcy had liked them since seeing my tattoo and hearing the explanation behind the design. When my match and I saw the bands, we suddenly realized something... those were the bands we'd seen Darcy and Phil wearing on chains, when we'd come across each of them, following the mess with the Aether and Malekith. Only those rings had been spelled... we did that ourselves.
The next encounter happened while we were in Switzerland. That time I was actually there with Mycroft's PA (whom John knew as Anthea, while I knew her as Cassia... she was actually Anna Isabel Kemp-Holmes, Mycroft's wife). Officially I was her interpreter during a series of political negotiations Mycroft hadn't been able to attend; unofficially we were there to research a possible thread of Moriarty's web, one that lead us directly to the Bernese Oberland region, and something called the Reichenbachfall... and wasn't that ironic? Considering that the painting of those very falls had been the start of the huge mess we were still in right then...
Hakon and Peggy were there (under their new identities, of course). My son looked past me, as if he didn't know me, though I could sense a brief burst of love for me. Peggy on the other hand, didn't seem to recognize me (though that might have been because of my attire, and the fact that I'd dyed my hair platinum blonde for the duration of the mission). We never spoke, but a moment came when we were close enough for my son to whisper a single word into my ear:
"Hydra..." It was just one word, yet the implications were huge.
In the end we didn't find much there, aside from the ruins of a property that had once been a summer home or something of a foreign lord by the name of Muirchertach... I also recognized the place as the one where at least two of the past incarnations of Sherlock Holmes had 'fallen', one from the top of the actual falls, and another from a balcony (probably the property back before it was mostly destroyed).
The third time was in early November, though that one was quite different, as it didn't technically start with me. It began with Mycroft calling me to request my 'assistance'. It was his way of asking me to go and heal someone. So I got on a plane, was flown to the south end of Italy. Sherlock was there, hiding in a safe-house, looking more than a little scorched... and yet, as I soon realized, he wasn't the reason I was called. No, the reason was the man laying on a cot in the next room, with serious burns on about a quarter or so of his body, and a stab-wound to his chest that had probably not killed him only because the blade hadn't been strong enough to get past his ribs (though it had cracked one of them). That man was Phil Coulson...
It hit me abruptly, the memory of a conversation we'd had so long ago (or, from a different point of view, hadn't had yet):
"... It was a risky assignment, so I was doing the work mostly on my own, though Darcy kept track of me, just in case. We didn't realize it but, they knew I was there. Not sure how long, but eventually they went after me. I'm not even sure how I survived that assassination attempt, it was a miracle, if I'm completely honest with you, and a close call... close enough that I was actually reported dead before I got the chance to get in touch with either Nick or Darcy in a safe manner. By the time I managed to get back, word had spread about my death. Nick decided to leave it that way, said it was for my own safety, as well as everyone else's..."
Phil hadn't known how he'd survived the assassination attempt; one that, just looking at him, had obviously been much more serious than I'd imagined; yet in that moment, as I laid my hands less than an inch from his skin and called on the power at the very core of my soul... I knew. It was always meant to happen like that.
So I healed him to the best of my ability (and of his body's own endurance), and when my magic hit its limit I used my other talents to help it along.
While we waited for him to wake up Sherlock told me how they'd met. Sherlock had been in Malta investigating a rich man called Ian Quinn, who'd apparently had some business with some men in the lower rungs of Moriarty's criminal web; he wanted to find out if Quinn knew about the criminal side of things, or if he'd been used to launder funds, or even as cover-up... He'd managed to get onto a yacht where the man was attending some sort of party, in his attempt to get close enough to deduce him. He still didn't know, he never got close enough to Quinn to deduce him; and then he'd seen Phil being stabbed and thrown off the side and into the ocean.
Sherlock claimed not to know why he'd chosen to give up what was perhaps his only chance to get to Quinn to try and save a man's life, especially a man he didn't even know... but I knew, he'd done it because it was what John would have done, and John would always be Sherlock's measure of what a good man was like.
It took two days for Phil to wake, and stay awake more than a few minutes. Sherlock had some tea ready (something he always made, one of the routines that helped center him). He was also taking the opportunity to spend time in his Mind Palace and sleeping. And that, above anything else, showed the trust he put in me, the fact that he was willing to sleep with an unknown man in the next room, in an unknown place, secure in the knowledge that I'd keep him safe.
Once Phil woke and drank a cup of tea, I made sure to get some broth for him; he was halfway through that before he finally spoke:
"I don't know how I didn't notice it in Ireland, but you're not Nightingale, or at least, not the Nightingale I knew before." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"No, I'm not." I didn't see the point in lying, I respected Phil too much for that. "We are not. The Nightingale and Loki you last saw in that party in Stark Tower in May... they are in Asgard right now." I reconsidered. "Well, all things considered he might be in some other realm, helping deal with the Marauder problem..."
"Then who are you?" Phil finally got to the important question.
"I am Nightingale, what she will become." I answered, somewhat cryptically, before elaborating. "Something happened... or I guess something will happen, in less than two years, that will throw them back, far into the past..."
"What she will become..." Phil repeated in sudden understanding. "How far back?"
"75 years." I was dead-honest about that.
"The war... you were there..." He murmured. "How do we not know?"
"We were careful about that, very careful. And... well, you probably do know, to a point, you just don't know it was me... us... Howard was a great help with that."
"Howard..." I could see the moment Phil connected the dots. "Arianna Stark..."
I just smiled widely at him.
"What happened exactly?" He asked next. "I mean, shouldn't we be doing something to help or... well, I don't know!"
"There's nothing you can do, it's already happened Phil." I smiled softly at him. "I know it's hard to understand, and to be perfectly honest it took me many years to come to terms with it. When it first happened I tended to worry day and night, if we should try to change the past, if we should be careful of everything we did and said, least we change things too much and ruin something... but I realized the truth eventually."
"What truth?" Either he didn't get it, or he was having trouble accepting it.
"That it had already happened. That it was always meant to happen. Even if we could somehow do something to change things, I wouldn't... not like we could do anything, really, after all these years we still cannot remember what happened that day, exactly. We don't even know for sure if that's coincidence or on purpose."
"Someone made you forget how you got back so you couldn't undo it..."
"Perhaps, though the fact remains, it cannot be undone. Because, technically, it has already happened, all of it."
"So you're one of those people who doesn't believe in changing the past."
"I believe that it's possible for there to be more in the past than we knew..." Arianna Stark, Anya Reynolds, Alfdis Eisenhardt, Canary... and so many more people and places and events. "But no, you cannot change the past, because changing something makes it history, and then its all you know, therefore how would you know anything's changed? And it's not like we're about to create some insane paradox; like killing our own ancestors or ourselves or something equally insane!" My tone turned quieter as I added. "We were very careful. Distanced ourselves from Howard and his family before Tony turned four, so he would have no memories of us, stayed away from all who met us before the travel first, so we wouldn't cause confusion. Used disguises, new names and glamours as necessary. Even ended living in a different realm for twenty years!"
"How many people know about... well, all of this?" He asked, curious.
"A few people know some of it." I told him, considering. "No one outside of the direct family knows all of it. We didn't think it prudent. There's just so much going on..."
"I suppose that means you know what I was doing..."
"Some of it, yes." I admitted. "I cannot really tell you, as I don't really know how much you know already, and how much you've yet to piece together. But we will be meeting again, before the jump, and you'll tell me."
"I suppose that's only logical. But wait a second, the rings..."
"We... They won't know. If questions are asked just tell them we asked you to keep our identities a secret, to be allowed to stay in the shadows for a while longer. It will all come out eventually."
"Isn't it odd? Keeping secrets from yourself?"
I didn't respond, truth was, Phil had no idea. One only needed to start with those rings and end with the code-name Canary... and I had no doubt there were even more instances I simply hadn't become aware of yet. Already Rose had told us how she'd seen our past selves from the distance, purposefully making sure we wouldn't see her; though Sirin had recognized us (I remembered her, the one who'd called me Canary that day...).
xXx
I managed to convince Phil to stay put the rest of the week, but the moment I admitted that I could do no more to help him he thanked Sherlock and took his leave. I didn't worry too much about him. I knew SHIELD had already declared him dead, but Darcy would find him, and that would put other events into motion, things that were necessary.
I still found it funny that my love and I had actually looked straight at tokens we had spelled, and yet hadn't realized it. Never imagined we could change that much... and yet the moment we'd seen Darcy and Phil there, about to marry, it had been so obvious. Only one more thing to convince me that things were exactly the way they were supposed to be.
"How much did you hear?" I asked Sherlock the moment Phil left.
Because I just knew he had heard something, his very aura seemed to be screaming it, both his knowledge and his doubts. His need to understand...
"I would say I heard all of it, but I'm not sure I understood a lot of it." I could see how much it cost him to say that. "You... it sounded like you were talking about... time-travel?"
"That is correct." I nodded.
"But that's impossible!" He exclaimed immediately.
"Is it?" I asked with a small smile. "Want to know why I'm not worried about Phil leaving right now? Even though he clearly isn't fully recovered just yet?"
Sherlock looked puzzled, but he didn't ask, he knew he didn't need to.
"I know SHIELD already declared him dead." I went on. "I also know his wife knows better. She will find him in the next few days. She will get him some place safe, where she will help him finish his recovery. And eventually they will go see their boss, who will take advantage of this opportunity, the fact that Phil is believed to be dead, to send him on another mission... Much like you, except that his death wasn't exactly planned." I let out a breath. "Want to know how I know all that? Because some time next year, me, or a younger version of me, will meet Phil, and he will tell her why all their friends, all our friends, believe him to be dead. He will also tell her he does not know how he survived... which is actually true, since Phil never actually saw you, all week. And through all our conversations, I somehow forgot to tell him..."
"But time travel is... it's impossible, fiction!" The repetition revealed how affected Sherlock was.
"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Sherlock, than are dreamt in any philosophies, or explained by any sciences." I said, somewhat dramatically.
"What the hell does that mean?" He demanded, obviously not getting it.
"I was paraphrasing Shakespeare." I admitted with a shrug. "The bottom line is, even if you have never seen proof of things, that doesn't mean they do not exist. There is a lot in this world, in this universe that you don't know about. It's too big, knowledge itself is too big for you to possess it all Sherlock, and there's nothing wrong with that."
"How much does John know?" I was actually surprised when he chose to ask that next, rather than wanting more information himself; though in hindsight it was probably obvious.
"Not much." I shrugged. "He knows that Serrure and I were there, back during WWII, somehow. We met his grandmother there, Marge... that's our connection. Especially because, after the war, Marge her daughter and granddaughter each helped us in certain ways. They've kept secrets for us, that's what's made them family. John wasn't in on it, not back then... Even now there's a lot he doesn't know, doesn't care to know. As long as it doesn't really affect him..."
"He told me once you met in Afghanistan, that you saved his life..." Sherlock revealed.
"I did." I nodded.
"You knew he'd need you." It wasn't a question.
"We were told by a very reliable source."
"How would that source know?"
"Magic. And it's not a lie, or a joke. I mean that quite literally. It's a gift. She has the Sight, can see things others do not: future, present, past..."
"Future, present, past..." Sherlock repeated, and I could see the moment an epiphany hit him. "It was you! That dream! The song! It was you!"
"She saw it, and she came to us, for a way to show you, make you understand, stop you from making the same mistakes again..."
"It was never logical. To see that, to believe it; yet I did. It was insane... yet the mere possibility of it. The chance that I might lose John... I had to believe it."
"You do insane things for the one you love. It's the most illogical yet unshakable truth in the universe." And I really did believe that.
At that moment, Sherlock and I reached an understanding. There was still a lot he didn't know about me; might know one day, might never learn. But that wasn't really important. He knew I cared for John, and he trusted me to be on their side, in the end that was all that really mattered.
I drove to Syracuse on a rental car and then took a plane back to London the next day, while Sherlock himself went off to the next part of his mission. There were things to do, places to be, people to see... and time was running short.
xXx
There were a few other instances where the assistance of one of us was needed, but for the most part Sherlock seemed to be able to handle things just fine, with some help from a few trusted members of MI6 (though we weren't supposed to know that part).
Months passed and, on the first of May of 2015 I made a somewhat abrupt decision (though not quite so abrupt that my match wasn't aware of what I was doing and why). I phoned Cassia and told her I needed to see Mycroft, talk to him about something, that it was a matter of National Security, and Top Secret, and no, it had nothing to do with Sherlock and/or Moriarty. Minutes later there was a nondescript car outside my door and I was taken straight to Mycroft's office.
"What is it?" He asked, going straight to the point.
"I'm not sure if you're aware by now of the abnormal events taking place across the country, though mostly centered in and around the Greenwich area." I began. "Places where things like gravity, space, the very laws of physics seem to bend for no apparent reason..."
"How do you know about that?" Mycroft demanded, then changed tracks. "Do you know what's causing it exactly?"
"It is called the Convergence." I told him seriously. "An alignment of Realms..."
I was quite sure if it had been anyone else, he'd have snorted.
"Ms. Hvedrungr..." He began.
"Arianna." I interrupted him evenly. "I think we've known each other long enough for you to call me Arianna, Mycroft. And do not expect me to refer to you by your surname, or worst, your title! Because I'm not one of your lapdogs."
"No, you're not." He admitted, and there was a hint of respect in his voice. "In any case, I expected something more serious. Besides which, planetary alignment only happens every five centuries or so, and we aren't due for another until a bit over three centuries for now...
"I didn't say it was an alignment of planets." I pointed out serenely, waiting for him to catch up with the implications. "I said it was an alignment of Realms."
"You're talking about Asgard..." He began.
"And Vanaheim, Alfheim, Jotunheim, Helheim or Niflheim, however you wish to call it, Muspelheim, Svartalfheim, Nidavellir and, of course, our own Earth, or as they call it: Midgard." I enlisted calmly. "There are more realms, certainly, but those are the main nine, and the ones this matter concerns."
"What matter?" I had obviously taken him completely by surprise.
"The Convergence." I reminded him kindly. "It essentially means that the Nine Realms will be aligned. That particular event is even rarer than the alignment of planets in our solar system. It only happens every five thousand years or so."
"What does it mean for us?" Mycroft was fully focused by that point.
"It means that, for a short while, the realms will be closer than they usually are." I explained. "I imagine you will soon begin receiving reports of people seeing odd things in the sky, almost like mirages of some kind. There's also the space and gravity situation, which happens because the fabric so-to-speak that separates the realms thins, making it easier to cross from one world to the others. That, on itself isn't too dangerous, though there are those who might try to take advantage of this event for nefarious purposes."
"You know more." Mycroft stated, low and full of authority. "I know you do, tell me."
"Something will happen in a few days." I admitted. "I cannot tell you what exactly, or how I know. What I can tell you though, is that you must not interfere, and keep your people away from Greenwich once things begin happening. For their own safety."
"I could send people to handle whatever this is..." Mycroft began.
"You cannot." I cut him off. "This is not something you can handle Mycroft."
"Who then?" He demanded.
"The only people who have the power to do so." I answered, somewhat evasive. "They will come when they need to. You need not do anything. Just let things happen as they must. I promise you, they will deal with the situation. It's better if you don't send anyone, give them less people to worry about. It will be alright."
I didn't know it then, but Mycroft had decided to listen to me (he was probably the reason why the emergency services took so long to arrive to 'ground zero' that day, and why no one tried to crowd us, not until Hand and the SHIELD contingent made an appearance, at least).
Still, that all only meant that, the day after the Convergence, Mycroft was waiting for me in my living room when I arrived after my latest Spanish Class...
"Mind explaining to me Arianna, how is it that yesterday afternoon, while you were working as a volunteer at St. Mary's Hospital, CCTV caught this picture of you just outside the University of Greenwich, in the aftermath of that Convergence event you mentioned before?" He asked, his even tone not quite hiding the undercurrent of authority, the demand to know what I was hiding.
What I found almost funny was that he was able to see through the very different clothes and hair-style, and yet he hadn't seen through my love's. Because Loki was right there too, in those same pictures, some even standing beside me (though none revealed any particular closeness between us); yet Mycroft wasn't seeing him.
"I wasn't aware that being in two places at once was a talent of yours." He added stoically.
"It's not." I answered calmly. "I wasn't in two places at once Mycroft. I was at St. Mary's." I raised a hand to stop him before he could accuse me of lying. "The person in those pictures was indeed me... but to me that happened years ago..."
"What are you saying?" He asked, eyes narrowed.
"You know exactly what I'm saying." I told him, more calmly than I actually felt.
"How?" He asked next.
I would have to admit to being surprised he didn't try to deny, or claim it to be impossible.
"We do not know." I admitted. "And that's the truth. The events of that particular day are a blur to us all. No matter how hard we try, we cannot remember..."
"You all..." Mycroft repeated, as he caught on. "Serrure as well..."
I could see the moment he realized the truth, his eyes widened minutely, before he turned to look at me again, as if he were seeing me for the very first time:
"What surprises me is that you're not claiming it to be impossible, like Sherlock did..." I admitted after a little while.
"So Sherlock knows... I'd wondered." He shrugged, though I could tell he was discomfited, by the fact that his younger brother knew before he did (there was the old rivalry again).
"He overheard a conversation I was having with an old friend." I shrugged.
"I've been in a position of enough power, for long enough, to know there's a lot more going on around us than most people realize." He said somewhat cryptically. "Both good and bad." He made a pause, before looking straight at me again. "You're not human..."
"Not really, not anymore anyway." I confessed. "I was once. I am, indeed, Silbhé Salani, and I was born human (I decided not to reveal the whole past-life just yet, my life was complicated enough even without that part). Then I died... that wasn't a lie either. But my love, my bond to my husband, allowed me a choice few are ever given."
"You cheated death." I wasn't sure if he was envious, or unsure by the prospect.
"It would be more correct to say that I gave up on the chance at resting, at knowing true peace, to stay by the side of the man I love." I told him quietly, waving a hand before he could interrupt. "And don't try your whole 'love is a chemical defect', 'caring is not an advantage' spiel on me. I know you don't believe that as strongly as you claim to and, thankfully, neither does Sherlock. Love is not a matter of science, the opposite exactly, and while caring might not be an advantage, and in certain circumstances it can even be a weakness, it's also such an intrinsic part of us, it's in our hearts, and our souls, and there's nothing wrong about that. Loving someone so much you'd die for them... but more importantly, you'd live for them, there's nothing stronger than that kind of will, that conviction. It's the kind of power that can move mountains, that can, has and will shape the world..."
Mycroft didn't interrupt me, or contradict me; I wasn't sure if he agreed with me, or if he was just ignoring me, but I didn't care. I'd held onto my beliefs for centuries, and I'd do the same for many more, to the end of my days...
xXx
Sherlock returned to London on the first week of August, almost an exact year after his 'fall', his supposed suicide. Though, no one but a select few knew of his return, or that he wasn't and had never been dead at all.
It was all part of the 'master plan'. The sniper contracted to kill Mrs. Hudson had been laughably easy to find; the one on Lestrade less so, but it hadn't taken long either. My love had even had some fun tracking down the men stalking us and 'playing' with them before eventually releasing them into Mycroft's custody; they'd been left so affected that they were willing to tell everything they knew (pitifully little as it was) if Mycroft only promised not to let my husband near them again. Which actually made several people quite curious about what exactly my match had done to make them so frightened... the funniest part? He hadn't so much as touched either of them, it had all been mind-games.
The real problem? We hadn't been able to find John's sniper. There was no trace of him or her at all, and that was putting us all on edge. Especially when Sherlock reported his suspicions that Moriarty's criminal syndicate was either much bigger than they'd initially deduced... or it was just a small part of another operation.
"Hydra." The word left my lips before I could think better about it.
"What?!" All eyes were instantly on me.
"Hydra, the Nazi's top-secret scientific branch." Sherlock spouted all he knew. "Lead by Johann Schmidt who, at some point, separated from the Nazis to make his own attempt at world domination... so boring! He was stopped by the so-called Captain America and his Howling Commandos several months before the end of WWII. The Captain was said to have been lost back then, only to reappear three years ago, in New York..."
"That's mostly true." I nodded.
"Mostly?" All three Holmes present knew that was important.
"We believed it was over, we thought we had won." I admitted grimly. "We were wrong."
"The suspicions began in the eighties." My husband took over. "A number of events took place, things that shouldn't have happened... yet we weren't close enough to be able to really investigate them. Get to the bottom of it. As we've more-or-less explained to you, we had to leave in 92 and stay away for a while. It was until we returned that we were informed that our worst fears had come true..."
"Hydra isn't as gone as we thought, it probably never was." I went on. "They have somehow managed to infiltrate SHIELD, the CIA, FBI, and doubtlessly a number of other government organizations. And it's not just America, they're all over the globe."
"Are you sure about this?" Cassia asked, seemingly fighting to grasp the implications.
"We are." My love nodded, knowing what she was thinking.
"What's their goal?" John inquired, though he probably suspected the answer already.
"The same thing it was in the 40s, World Domination." I shrugged.
"If they've managed to infiltrate intelligence organizations and governments..." Cassia broke off.
"Even if they're destroyed, the world will go with them." Sherlock finished for her.
"Why didn't we know this before?" Mycroft demanded. "We could have done something! We could have been preparing for this!"
"Exactly for that!" I cut him off. "Are you listening to yourself? You're about ready to unsheathe the sable you keep in that bloody umbrella, and yes, I know about that, don't look at me like that. That's not what's needed. Hydra won't act until it's ready, and we must not show our own hands until then. Regardless of what you might think of us, we've not been ignoring the problem, hoping it will just go away. Even if we weren't around when it was first revealed, there is a plan."
"What kind of plan?" Sherlock was intrigued by the prospect.
"Contention and Elimination." My match announced. "The moment Hydra reveals itself... well, they probably will have affixed some kind of signal, something that allows all cells to reveal their existence simultaneously. When that happens they will be taken down, the damage limited as much as possible. We've got only one shot at this."
"But that would require... a world-wide operation, the logistics alone..." Mycroft couldn't believe it, the mere idea was beyond him.
"This is no operation, because it's not being undertaken by any particular organization." I tried to explain. "We couldn't do it that way. We would risk being infiltrated."
"Then how?" Cassia didn't understand how such a move could be possible without protocols and plans in place.
"An alliance." I told them calmly. "Groups of gifted, enhanced and similarly-minded individuals across the planet. They've all been made aware of the situation, and the consequences, should Hydra succeed in their attempt. When Hydra reveals themselves, that will be their signal to act."
"You really think such a thing is possible?" Mycroft didn't scoff, but it was a near thing.
I thought about Rose, my daughter's face as she'd explained the plan, everything she and Hakon had been doing, all the people they had met and talked to, all willing to step up when the time came. People who'd been persecuted before, been misunderstood, some who'd spent so long hiding, making sure no one knew they were different, gifted; they were all willing to potentially give up their anonymity, to risk their own lives, because they believed in Rose, and in her ideas. The dream of a world were gifted were accepted as part of society, as protectors, as human as everyone else... My daughter had faith, and because of that, so did everyone else.
xXx
There was only one true hiccup (or, some might think, a huge complication) in Sherlock's and John's relationship during those months, and I ended being accidental witness to the blow up. As it happened Sherlock had returned to London after yet another mission, and gone straight for John, the excuse was that he needed treatment for some wounds he'd gotten (mosquito bites in Africa were a very serious matter in that moment). Because the world is extremely small (I can hardly believe how much) he'd actually met my aunt while hunting down another piece of the web. I'd told him about Aunt Kathryn in one of our conversations, about how I wanted to let her know I was alive, but couldn't track her down (and with Hydra and everything else, it was too risky going around myself).
So, Sherlock told her, he wet as far as accessing some pictures online to prove it. It was probably a good thing because when things went pretty much to hell in a hand-basket (the man Sherlock had been tracking down turned out to be a diamond and weapons smuggler; and he had what amounted to an army of thugs willing to go after the man 'asking too many questions'; of course, none of them expected the kind, unassuming nurse in her early-to-mid fifties to have no fear of them at all, pull out a handgun and begin shooting at them like nobody's business... (then again, none of them knew that Nurse Salani had once been Agent Adler of MI5, the SSR and eventually an Elite in SHIELD. And like Maria Hill seemed to be so fond of saying: you can take the man out of the agent (when they became emotionless, machines) but you can never really take the agent out of the man (or woman, the point remained).
In the end she'd thanked him for the information and promised to return home as soon as it was convenient (making sure no one would suspect anything); then she helped him cross into Wakanda, where she'd contacts who then aided Sherlock in getting to England. Aside from the injuries caused during the confrontation, Sherlock had been bitten by mosquitoes more than once, and with things like ebola and zika and the like being very real risks in Africa... well, it was better if we were all careful.
All in all, he'd been going to see John, and that was where the trouble came, as I found when I ended witnessing an argument as I was doing a check-up on my unexpected patient.
"She's just a friend, Sherlock!" John defended himself. "Actually, she's not even that. She's an acquaintance and..."
"She was all over you!" Sherlock's voice came out almost too high.
I could sense the hurt he was trying to hide, the insecurities he wanted to conceal, and I knew there was no reason for them, I could sense John's love as clearly as Sherlock's own; yet I knew that one cannot tell someone else how they or anyone else feels inside. It doesn't work like that, they needed to communicate.
"She's a Black Widow!" John exclaimed abruptly.
That threw us all for a loop.
"Mary Morstan..." John began, they grimaced. "Well, I'm quite sure that's not her real name, but regardless. She's a Black Widow, one who's apparently trying to turn the page, make a new life for herself. Yes, she's shown interest in me, but I have no interest in her. I love you Sherlock, not her. I respect her decision to change, to fight against her past, but that's it."
"How do you know she's a Widow?" I asked.
Sherlock wasn't saying anything, he was too shocked, probably still processing John's rather blasé love declaration (which only proved how true it was, the lack of hesitation, of delay...).
"I've seen her before, in Istanbul a few years ago." John explained. "Her name was Alisa back then, and she claimed to be Canadian. She was also involved with an attempt to blow up the British's ambassador's car..."
"You were involved with an SIS mission?!" Sherlock, probably for the first time ever, looked absolutely flabbergasted.
John just smiled at him.
"How come I didn't know that?" Sherlock pressed.
"It was a while ago, was... technically still is, I suppose, confidential." John shrugged. "Though to be honest I expected you and your brother to know already."
"Mycroft doesn't know either." Sherlock said, completely confident of that fact. "I've hacked the file he keeps on you, it's not there."
"It's not that important." John shrugged, trying to make it seem irrelevant. "I was there because they needed a doctor, after the initial assassination attempt, and my arrival was a good excuse to get the actual Agents into the country without being noticed. In the end nothing too interesting happened. Nothing like the movies..."
He was trying to hide something, something that had happened in that mission, and I knew it, and Sherlock obviously did too. And he was like a dog with a bone, he wouldn't let go until he knew, but that wasn't the time to talk about secret missions, so I changed the focus of the conversation.
"So she's under an assumed identity." I offered. "Doesn't necessarily make her a Widow..."
"Her fighting style." John finally revealed. "I'd seen it before. During my first tour, one of them was caught by one of the patrols. Her name was... I suppose it still is, Yelena Belova. That day was a mess. She was supposed to be picked up by MI6 or something, to be interrogated about her connection to terrorist activities in the area, and the group known as the Ten Rings. She claimed to be pregnant and that made the people in the base feel some pity for her..."
"That's impossible..." I began, knowing as I did what was done to Black Widows upon graduation from the program.
"I know that now, but we didn't back then." John admitted. "She escaped her bonds, killed all who tried to stop her. I was one of the lucky few to survive, and the only one she didn't maim or scar permanently. Supposedly she had mercy on me because I was respectful to her when she was captured. Didn't treat her like trash, or like someone weak..." He shrugged. "Anyway, I can respect someone wanting to make a new life, separate from all that. Doesn't mean I'm in any way interested in her."
I left after finishing my physical, reminding both of them to be careful until the test results came back, then left them to finish making up.
xXx
We'd always known that eventually something would have to give. It happened in the first days of November; when separate informants of Mycroft, Cassia and Sherlock all reported some rather suspicious activity from a number of key individuals, activity that hinted at something big being planned (like rats fleeing a sinking ship, Sherlock had explained it).
As it turned out it was a rather serious situation. A train-car full of explosives, with even more charges carefully placed down a very specific tunnel; one that happened to pass just beneath the Houses of Parliament... In the end Sherlock and John handled the situation masterfully, dealing with the bomb, finding the man behind it all. And yet, the damage was done already, the world knew Sherlock Holmes was alive and back in England.
It wasn't so bad. Of course the press was all over them. Especially when John ended being almost burned alive by someone on Guy Fawkes' Night. I was the one who received the code meant to be used to save him, though it was Loki and Sherlock who deciphered it. And then it was Loki's and my magic which got us to the right place in time. Though I never expected it when, instead of waiting for one of us to do something, the consulting detective pushed his bare hands through fire and wood to pull John out. I healed him afterwards, of course, but I will never forget how willing he was to risk his life to save John... none of us will.
Of course the press went nuts over that too. Especially because the first thing John did, once he was free, was pull Sherlock to him and kiss him silly, in front of everyone there.
The reactions to that were mixed: some were convinced it was all a publicity stunt, or something; some said it made Sherlock seem more human; others supported it wholeheartedly. Mary Morstan was not one of them; for some odd reason she kept trying her best to flirt with John, even when it was so painfully obvious he wasn't interested.
And then the announcement came: John and Sherlock were getting married. It would be a small ceremony, only the people who truly knew them, accepted them. They asked me to create a song for them, for their first dance... I was honored, and nervous beyond anything. Unlike Rose Alfdis, I had never created a song for someone who wasn't my love, myself, or one of my children; even the time I'd sung during Ylva's and Fenrir's wedding, or during Willow's and Johann's own, the song hadn't been exactly about them... Still, it was a great honor, they were trusting me with something so important. And I knew Sherlock was composing a melody for John, but he couldn't exactly play and dance at the same time, so it'd be my song they'd dance together to, their first dance as a married couple, which made it all the more important. I spent days sitting before the piano (because I convinced myself that it'd be easier to compose with the piano than with the flute... even though I'd never done it that way before...) I had no idea how to do it, and was terrified things would go completely wrong...
"You're overthinking it, Amaelamin (my love)..." My match finally told me one day, lips brushing softly against one ear as he stood behind me, by the piano.
"I... I don't know how to do this Fintalë-haryon (trick-prince)." I admitted, softly.
"You're trying to go about things the same way other people do." He pointed out calmly. "But you, my love, aren't like any of those other, boring people. Music follows the voice for you, not the other way around, remember? You know the words, in your heart, you always do. So let your heart sing, and the right music will find you, as it always has... You can do this, my Aquarius, it's in your heart, in your soul... and it always has been..."
And just like that, it came: the memories, the feelings, every time a new song had been created. He was right, of course he was right. As elves, songs were the way we chose to express ourselves, it was something that was imprinted into my very core; and as a human... at first it'd been the dizi, but only until I found my voice, until I could use it the way I was meant to...
When the wedding finally came, there was no doubt, no nervousness in me anymore. I knew what I was doing to sing. I had no sheets for the music, none at all, and I didn't need them. I knew the words by heart, and my husband was right; the music would follow.
Of course, because it was John and Sherlock, there was no way they could have a simple, normal wedding. I almost expected there to be some kind of crime to interrupt things (there wasn't). Still, the surprise they gave us, it was one thing none of us could have ever seen coming...
Mycroft had handled the official part of the ceremony. It was a civil ceremony as John, while technically still Catholic, didn't practice religion as much ever since joining the army; while Sherlock claimed that all religions were the creation of men, and therefore inherently flawed, he believed in order, in logic, in things like cause and consequence, but no specific set of beliefs, traditions and the like.
They did choose to have rings; though they weren't the traditional wedding bands, instead my Maverick had created a spell that would tattoo bands around John's and Sherlock's left ring fingers; the design that of simple celtic knots. They'd chosen such bands because it was simpler and safer than traditional wedding bands, less likely to be lost or damaged during a case or one of Sherlock's experiments, or even stolen; they were also easily disguised, if that were ever to be necessary (for undercover work). And, while they had never told anyone, there was another reason: they were permanent in a way physical rings could never be.
However, that wasn't the true surprise, no the surprise came when the two grooms asked for a chance to say their chosen vows, after rings had been exchanged, as they were holding onto each other hands', the words to leave both their lips in sync; they weren't unknown words, weren't something they had made up on the spot, or in the weeks since becoming engaged. No, they were works that some of us knew by heart, and the use of them gave it all a whole new dimension:
"I promise you that from this day on, you will be my only one. I shall look at no other the way I look at you, I shall think of no other the way I think about you, I shall talk to no other the way I talk to you, I shall desire no other the way I desire you, and I shall with no other the way I lay with you. I shall be with no other for you are now and forever shall be my one and only; my friend, my lover, my partner, my match..."
Mycroft rolled his eyes at what he probably saw as an excess of sentiment (nevermind that he was married too, and I knew how much he and 'Cassia' loved each other); Mrs. Hudson was crying outright, and even others like Greg, Molly and Harry looked a bit misty-eyed. None of them could see the things we did, the significance behind those words, those vows... the Ancient Vows. The fact that John and Sherlock had just tied themselves to one another for the rest of eternity, and there had been no doubt, no hesitation... and I could sense their love, the fact that they knew, somehow, what they were doing, understood the implications... but how?
*We didn't tell them.* My love pointed out mentally.
*Huh...?* I didn't quite understand the significance of that, not yet.
*We didn't tell them those vows, nor did we say them before those two.* He enlisted patiently, guiding me to the answer instead of telling me outright. *If it wasn't us... there's only one way they could have known...*
*The vision.* I realized. *Rose's vision, which we shared with them.*
*Exactly.* He agreed.
*But it's not just that, is it?* I could see it so clearly in that moment. *The vision was about them, after all. Which means...*
*It means that they probably had made those vows before.* He finished for me. *It's quite likely even, all things considered...*
Which meant they'd been bound already, in some distant past, some previous life. It might have taken them a long while to get back to each other, but it was always meant to be. Always... That thought also brought another to the front of my mind. How had We known the Vows, when we chose to take them in my previous life? I didn't know the answer, couldn't remember, and my suspicions... wasn't sure if it could even be called that, or mere wishful thinking.
The ceremony was over relatively soon and we sat for dinner (all of which had been prepared by Angelo and his people, a menu formed by Sherlock's and John's favorites). Once that was done Sherlock took his opportunity to play the piece he'd composed for John, a beautiful, heartfelt symphony that seemed to be able to tell the two men's whole story even without words.
Once that part was over, came my turn. I couldn't help but feel a hint of nervousness, but I forced myself to focus; I was doing what I loved, for people I cared about, considered friends and as close as family, what could ever be better than that?
"Hello everyone," I greeted as I stood beside the great piano Mycroft had had placed in a corner of the great room. "Everyone knows who I am, and what my connection is to the two grooms, so I won't bore anyone with that. When I was asked to perform the song for their first dance I was honored, and a bit nervous too." I smiled. "Those who know me, know how much of a believer I am in true love, and in soulmates. I honestly believe that each and every one of us has a perfect match, someone we're meant to be with in body, mind, heart and soul, who compliments us absolutely. Gender, race, age... such things don't matter when it comes to a match. That kind of love is unbreakable, it can stand up to anything and anyone, and it will last until the last star falls from the sky... I hope you will all be fortunate enough to enjoy that kind of love..."
With that I took my seat before the piano and I let go, my fingers moving across the keys and the words coming from my mouth automatically. It took no effort at all, I only needed to look at John and Sherlock, think about what I knew about them, about their love, and it all simply flowed:
"This is my love song to you
Let every woman know I'm yours
So you can fall asleep each night, babe
And know I'm dreaming of you more"
"You're always hoping that we make it
You always want to keep my gaze
Well you're the only one I see love
And that's the one thing that won't change"
"I'll never stop trying
I'll never stop watching as you leave
I'll never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me
And I'll never stop holding your hand
I'll never stop opening your door
I'll never stop choosing you babe
I'll never get used to you"
John and Sherlock were dancing the moment the song began. And it was both funny and so very endearing at the same time, the way that they seemed to almost be taking turns leading and following, especially because not a word was said, by either of them, they just flowed through the dance-floor, shifting from one move to the other like it was the most natural thing in the world. They didn't even have to think about it, it was an instinct... much like loving each other was...
"And with this love song to you
It's not a momentary phase
You are my life, I don't deserve you
But you love me just the same
And as the mirror says we're older
I will not look the other way
You are my life, my love, my only
And that's the one thing that won't change"
"I'll never stop trying
I'll never stop watching as you leave
I'll never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me
And I'll never stop holding your hand
I'll never stop opening your door
I'll never stop choosing you babe
I'll never get used to you"
"Still get my heart racing (you)
Still get my heart racing (for you)
Still get my heart racing (you)
Still get my heart racing (for you)"
As I sang I couldn't help but think of the things Rose had shared with us, the scenes of all those lifetimes, and some that might have been of the future. Those two belonged together so much that regardless of all the mistakes that might have happened (and those that were prevented), they were always meant to end as they were in that moment... together. It was absolute perfection.
"I'll never stop trying
I'll never stop watching as you leave
I'll never stop losing my breath
Every time I see you looking back at me
And I'll never stop holding your hand
I'll never stop opening your door
I'll never stop choosing you babe
I'll never get used to you..."
So... what do you think? Next week we'll have the remaining pieces of S3 (obviously portrayed in a very different manner). Can you imagine how things will go with Magnussen with no Mary to use as pressure point on John (and by extension on Sherlock) Loki and Nightingale smack in the middle of it all? Also, some Bond (because I just cannot seem to be able to help myself!)
See ya next week!