"Emotions.

The grit on the lens,

The fly in the ointment."

The destruction happening inside the doomed ship was chaotic. Blasts from the outside grew stronger as the enemy ships drew nearer. Shards of glass exploded into dust, the ground rattled violently and a screeching noise of steel bending and collapsing haunted the ears of those who were unfortunate enough to hear. It was only a matter of time before the great vessel would finally collapse.

But the air inside the cryo pod was still. Silent. Unbearably numb. From inside the pod, one could see the destruction moving noiselessly as if it was in slow motion.

The persons in their own respective situation however, contradicted each other.

Sherlock's banging turned into desperate attempts to break the incredibly strong glass of his own chamber. His thoughts went wild. A jumbled mix of emotions began to buzz in his head like bees, swarming around his precious mind palace and clouding all rationality. The drug that swam in his veins acted like its stingers, weakening his strength and contained his mind from exploding as he watched, angry and confused, at the man before him.

"MYCROFT!"

The elder Holmes continued to stare with complete stoicness at his raging brother as if he was simply scolding him for raising his voice. Debris roamed around his polished suit and the ground he stood on wobbled and cracked, yet he still maintained his proper posture. It seemed as if nothing fazed the man. Nothing at all.

And then he gave a curt nod which did nothing more than enrage Sherlock's temper to the boiling point.

"Brother-"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?-ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME!"

"Please Sherlock, haven't I already made it absolutely clear for you? Surely your deducing abilities haven't completely left you as you underwent change. Oh forgive me for forgetting, its been quite a while since we've seen each other correct? Hello."

Sherlock glared at Mycroft with the utmost of annoyance, but the elder ignored, walking forwards without obstacle until they were no more than an arms length apart. Mycroft stared back with dull eyes that competed with his brother's and lifted a single hand and placed it against the chamber's glass.

"Hello, Sherlock."

But the drug that contained him can only do so much against the strong will of emotions that littered his mind like confetti. Sherlock, upon seeing the hand that was placed against his own fists, struck the barrier with all his available strength and watched the glass crack, forming a weblike pattern that blossomed against his brother's palm.

Mycroft couldn't help but flinch. Once removing his hand that had obstructed the view of Sherlock's face, he was met with eyes he had never seen before.

"Answer. Me."

Without warning, his chest once again hammered with that odd fluttering pain. The discomfort chilled his very bones and paralyzed his every vein for the slightest second until he decided to ignore the strange feeling once again. Mycroft scoffed and glared back without fear.

Attentive eyes examined Sherlock to the very pore, watching every movement and every flicker of those dark pupils that bore down onto his. He searched for the slightest indication of humanity in those clouded orbs, but Mycroft already knew it was a waste of time.

This wasn't Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes is dead.

He knew because that was his brother. All his life he had seen the younger go through many experiences in childhood. He had seen his happiness, his griefs, and even the rarest of admiration and love gleam in those bright and brilliant eyes.

But not like this. Never like this. These held the weight of so much despair and pain. So much anger and resentment, yet they were cold and lifeless as a dead man's eyes.

Even though they shared the same insensitive facade, he knew Sherlock wasn't heartless.

And this wasn't him.

"You really don't have any idea, don't you?" Mycroft sighed. "Well, you know what people say about the effects of being an experimental lab rat. It really clouds your senses." Mycroft smirked at his attempt at dry humour but found no response at all. An uncanny silence replaced the usual sarcastic retort the Holmes boys always threw at each other every time they dared to open their mouths. Looking back with all seriousness now, Mycroft returned with the slightest of sadness gleaming in his eyes.

"This is all my doing, Sherlock." he whispered, gripping the polished wooden handle of his beloved umbrella as he did so.

"What?"

"I thought I had made it clear for you. Haven't you noticed the sudden and questionable change in the Union's decision for execution? Did you really think they wanted you to represent humanity as you claim the 'privilege' of being Starfleet's voyagers? Honestly brother, who else have relations with the Augments and has a rank high enough to be seated amongst the nation's representatives while they discussed your death? I'm surprised and a little bit disappointed in you."

As Mycroft went on, Sherlock felt himself lose breath. Upon hearing Mycroft's words, his eyes would've been wide open with realization, but instead they drooped heavily down, pulling his lids to a close. The anastasiac fluids that coursed through his bloodstream began to take dire effect.

No.

Sherlock fought with the strongest of his ability.

Not now, he needed answers! He needed to save Mycroft!

"Mycroft...Get out...The ship...!"

But Mycroft continued to ignore his brother's pleas.

"This ship Sherlock, do you like it? Botany Bay. There's another hint that you've missed. Remember that memory? Or have you deleted it from your head a long time ago? You were little back then when we visited Australia-dreadfully happy too if I remember. Botany Bay. Have you figured it out yet?"

Sherlock's mind burst into a cacophony of forgotten memories. It was as if the very bin in his brain used to keep all his deleted contents was spilled over, releasing, thus overflowing.

Botany Bay. Yes, he remembered it now. The sun, the sand, and the ports. It was another typical happy family memory, one he had decided long ago to push out to make room for more necessary and important information. And then it struck him.

"You..!"

Mycroft gave a sly smirk. "Yes. I am this ship's benefactor. This was the best I could do to avoid your immediate execution. Your admiral and I shared the same goal so I partnered with him to save all of you. Tell me Sherlock, why do you think they didn't just rig the whole ship with explosives and have you blown up immediately instead of sending other ships to manually destroy it themselves? Why go through all that trouble?"

Mycroft waited for an answer, seemingly amused by his own cunning mind but of course, it didn't take Sherlock long to figure out why.

"Plans were sent in along with it too and right after a painful period of time, immediately shipped here. A bit of alterations here and there, but we managed to get it done, surprisingly."

"You altered the plans...you sabotaged your own superiors."

"I had to. If it meant saving you. The plan is that once those ships arrive to attack, Botany Bay will be warped to a different location while I distract the others with a decoy. Once the ship is destroyed, they will have to believe that they had done their job smoothly and declare your execution successful. They won't search for you and the others any more. No more threats. The universe is vast, Sherlock. Although it might be-no, it will be a long time till you wake, you'll be safe."

Upon hearing those very words come out of his brother's mouth with such sincerity, Sherlock himself couldn't believe that Mycroft Holmes stood before him. The Ice Man. The cold brother.

"But you'll be inside that ship...don't tell me you're going to use your own life! Mycroft you'll die!"

No. Sherlock was convinced that he wasn't real. This wasn't Mycroft. He would never act this way! After years of going their separate ways, the Holmes boys' relationship grew far apart until they were nothing but two people sharing the same memories.

No. Absolutely not.

Mycroft wouldn't do this.

Mycroft wouldn't sacrifice his own life like this. He was much too clever-much too cold.

Somewhere among the destruction of his mind, another deleted memory began to unfold, presenting itself to Sherlock once more:

The train whizzed past me and blew at my curls as the force of the air collided with my hair. I couldn't help but giggle. It was childish and inappropriate, but it came out of impulse. I felt the hand wrapped around mine squeeze softly. Looking up, I can see the plump face of Mycroft look down at me...and smiled.

Sherlock could feel it. The ache pounding in his heart. It was unbearable.

"Why?" he was able to slur out as the coldness began to seep in. He knew he couldn't hold on much longer, but there was absolutely no way he would let his brother continue on with his delirious plan. "Mycroft...why?"

Mycroft turned slowly, a frown plastered on his face. For some reason, he felt a strong annoyance towards his brother's ignorance, but he was able to remind himself that he was the one who chose to keep everything a secret. There was no reason to keep it all from Sherlock now. Mycroft had to say it. He deserved to know, especially when they no longer hold a future together.

"Why? Isn't ironic that you are the one questioning things instead of answering them now, Sherlock? Why, how, what. I'll tell you, but it might be out of character for me to do so."

He faced Sherlock once more, but this time, instead of staring at him with the same superior eyes, he gave his brother a look they haven't shared since childhood.

And it pained Sherlock.

"Why do you think I keep constant watch over you Sherlock? Why should I, with my vast control over a whole nation and carrying a large weight of responsibilities on my own shoulders, dedicate a part of my life into protecting you every single day? I chose to keep watch over you. I hire the best men to send me news that you are still alive and breathing and I would push national cases onto your hands just so I can talk and meet with you once again. You see it as a nuisance, I see it as my own way of caring for you."

The shellshocked Augment watched Mycroft with wide eyes and remembered the constant realizations of strange people watching him and cameras following him everywhere he turned. He knew it was Mycroft's doing. What he thought, however, was that it was only done for the sake of keeping him from disrupting London's 'peace'.

But it still didn't make sense. This still didn't connect with the Mycroft Holmes he knew.

"You said caring...was not an advantage...Why did you choose to utter those words when you yourself are a hypocrite?"

"I said those words to protect you, brother. Emotional attachments will only drag you down. Heartaches will do you no good. I'm sorry I had raised you to be so cold. In all honesty, I haven't the slightest of clue on how to take care of you when you were just a child. The only way I knew how was to mold you into my own form: Uncaring and distant. Alone was what protected us, but I've never been so wrong."

A screeching shot was heard on the other side of the ship. Out the windows, the tiny dot of the enemy craft was now a recognizable sight at a dangerously close distance. Mycroft leaned against Sherlock's pod as another one racked the deck.

Sherlock fought back the darkness to the best of his abilities and pressed his face against the glass and could only watch the chaos before him.

"Mycroft! You can't do this! Don't risk your life for me - don't you dare! Find another way! Any way! Your plan is madness!" He willed his arms to move but found them completely paralyzed. It won't be long till his mind would succumb to the drug.

Outside the cryopod, the professor, unheard this whole time, was finally able to reach Mycroft as they shielded themselves on the ground.

"Holmes! We need to get to the ship now and start the warp! Any longer and Botany Bay won't be able to take all damage! We need to go! Now!"

Mycroft nodded towards the professor, and began to lift himself off the crumbling floor. As he leaned against Sherlock's pod, he heard his brother protesting on his plans.

"You're completely stubborn, you know that?" he grunted. "Unless you can come up with another idea in less than five seconds, I don't think I can afford to change my mind. I'm sorry, Sherlock."

But Sherlock didn't want this. He didn't want this pain! He could already feel himself slipping as he imagined Mycroft saying goodbye.

It was like that train station memory of a long time ago.

He remembered why he decided to delete that happy memory. That was the day his brother left for abroad, and the last time he saw him smile genuinely. It was a bittersweet memory of goodbye, and he didn't want to create another one.

Little did Sherlock notice the tears that streamed down his face for the first time in a long while.

Mycroft's heart broke at the sight and yearned to gather his little brother up in his arms. But unfortunately, all he could do was smile.

"All lives end, Sherlock,"

An angered cry was heard muffled inside the safety of the chambers.

"all hearts are broken," Mycroft turned his head to the pod right next to Sherlock's and his eyes landed on the sleeping face of John Watson. The doctor, the blogger, and Sherlock's most trusted friend. The two made a beautiful partnership, one with skilled unity but also with a shed of immaturity that could only be made by the closest of bonds. Mycroft couldn't help but envision Sherlock and himself in their youth as he recalled catching the two blokes laughing and joking comfortably with Sherlock wearing nothing more than a thin bed sheet. Another round of guilt washed over him as he scanned the deteriorating room at the many pods containing the human lives he had endangered.

This was the least he could do to help them.

"Sherlock," he gave his brother one last nod, "They are your family now. Take care of them. Protect them with your every being. From the words of dear Mrs. Hudson, 'Family is all we've got in the end,'. I understand now the weight of those words, and you must too." Mycroft watched as Sherlock's eyes fluttered to a close even through his struggles to keep them open.

Besides him, Eugene screamed for him to evacuate immediately as the doorway began to malfunction and crumble. If he didn't leave now, there would be absolutely no chance of survival for any of them.

"Goodbye, Khan."

These words were the last Sherlock's mind had absorbed until the cold darkness swallowed him whole.

"I didn't know that was your brother Holmes. I'm terribly sorry."

"No, don't be, you were just doing your job. I understand."

The professor and the elder Holmes frantically punched buttons and readied the very plan they had conjured up on their own. The tensions were thick inside the decoy ship, but the two wise men knew how to remain calm in order to work out what they needed to do.

Mycroft calculated a random coordinate for Botany Bay's warp.

"Although Eugene, I didn't like it one bit when I heard you had shot John Watson out of drunken euphoria."

The admiral professor was able to give a dry chuckle that oozed guilt at the memory.

"I'm sorry."

It didn't take the two long to finally set up everything perfectly. The ships were closing in quick, and if they wanted to save the Augments, they had to do it now. They looked at each other for confirmation. "Warp drive engaged in 3..."

Mycroft looked back for the last time.

"2..."

The admiral confirmed the Augments's security.

"1..."

A deep whir echoed throughout the decoy ship's deck, and soon, a single flash of light indicated the invisible disappearance of the once doomed ship.

Eugene and Mycroft gave a breath of relief but it only lasted for a short while. Enemy fire had increased as the decoy ship had taken the place of Botany Bay's. Mycroft knew that they simply couldn't rejoice now.

The two took their place on control, struggling to manage everything with the availability of only two men, one with only one functioning arm. They attempted to steer out of range, hoping that a sliver of luck may come their way and save them from their own sacrifice.

But there were simply too many to try for an escape.

Ships surrounded their every corner and began to slither their way nearer onto the ship's vital regions. But Mycroft and Eugene wasn't surprised nor let did they let fear and panic come crawling into their rationality.

This was all part of the plan.

The two dropped everything they were doing and surrendered. A deathly silence pregnated the room.

"Are you sure there isn't any other way?" Eugene gulped down, hands trembled slightly and eyes fought back the stinging tears. But it was okay. This was for his Augments. It was better him than one hundred precious human beings. He knew he had done many ignorant mistakes that had led them here. He regretted every one of them. But what he couldn't take back was the joy he had felt as his lifelong research was finally brought to life. His superhumans. No...he shouldn't be devastated. They will live on with his sacrifice. Little did the Augments know of his respect and admiration for them.

Mycroft felt the ground quiver violently and his body being shook raggedly against his chair. But like the professor, he was prepared for this. This was for Greg. For John. For Sherlock. But for the first time in his well guarded and superior life, Mycroft Holmes was afraid to die.

Not because he cherished life to the fullest, but because his job of protecting people was coming to an end. That was what Mycroft did.

He protected.

As an enemy ship collided with the haul of the decoy, the only response he could give to the professor was a sly and witty smile.

A/N Mycroft's fate is in your hands.

Reviews are helpful and welcomed! :3