"I said I'm tired."
"Good for you." Greg mumbled.
"There are aliens dancing in my stomach."
"Aham." Mycroft gave up and climbed to his lap, forcing him to look at him.
"I'm tired and cold, I want you to help but also to leave me alone. I want you to hold me but not to touch me!"
"Okay...that's not easy love." he smiled at him lovingly.
"You're ignoring me because of that stupid game! I'm sick and you are ignoring me." he curled up in his lap. "Make it better!...please."
"Send the aliens away? See I was listening." Mycroft's eyes pierced through him. "Not the answer you wanted." he mumbled. "How about you go and take a nice warm bath..."
"Sending me away so you can see the end of the game." he snorted. "Not getting out of it." he whispered settling back. "No way."
"I just wanted to help. Maybe a nice hot bath would make you feel better."
"I have the chills like this!" he waved the blanket in front of his face. "No way I'm getting undressed."
"No, I'm going to put more on!"
"Sure love." he ran his fingers through his ginger locks. "We'll do that. I'll get you more."
"Of course and tea and your medication." he kissed the top of his head.
"If you let me." Mycroft crawled back to the sofa and looked at Greg miserably. "It's going to be all right, promise." he kissed his forehead sadly noting that he was burning up under his lips. "Be back soon." he went to the kitchen closing the door and slid to the floor burying his face to his palms.
"I hate you. I bloody hate you! Why on earth you had to get yourself murdered." he sniffled. "Why My? He is so much like you...in every way. Shame you never seen him..." he took a deep ragged breath. "There and I'm crying again." he huffed wiping his tears. He sat on the floor waiting for his tears to stop. "I better put him to bed...as bad of a patient as you...and don't get me started on the whining!" he chuckled sadly. “Miss you so much love. No idea how much.” he sighed.
Mycroft was in bed after a long whiney battle. His son, their son...the similarities were obvious from the first second. White skin, icy, already all knowing blue eyes and ginger curly hair. As he grew the similarities became even more striking, freckles, his features, his brain, the way he talked, thought, moved.
"Dad?" he whispered from under the pile of blankets.
"Yes dear?" he put down the book.
"Was it today?"
"When dad...you know...when he…That is why you were in a bad mood, distracted, crying a lot…"
"Yes." he whispered stroking his hair.
"Sorry for whining and for not letting you just...watch the tele and not think of what happened." Greg smiled.
"It's okay. Now get some sleep and tomorrow will be everything better."
"Of course. And you know that I always keep my promises."
"I know. Love you."
"Sweet dreams." Greg kissed him goodnight.
Greg promised Mycroft that he'll love him till eternity, to make him happy, to give him everything and to keep him safe. Which he failed at.
“Not your fault.” he heard the so familiar voice.
“Not your fault.” Greg sighed and rubbed his eyes, quietly leaving the room.
“Not again.” he sighed.
“Not your fault.” the long gone voice continued.
“It is love.” he whined.
“Why would it be?” Greg went to his bedroom shutting the door loudly.
“Because if I pick you up in time, your wouldn’t get shot, you would be still alive, with me where you belong. With us, for fuck’s sake! You never even seen him! He…we need you…I need you desperately.” his voice broke, sobs threatening to overtake him.
“Four years, you’ve been living with this idea…”
“It’s not an idea!” he yelled. “The truth.” he wiped his tears pulling the blanket over his head. “I promised something, I told you that I’ll never break my promise and I did…I did and you died!”
“No my dear Gregory; you lived up to your promise, on more occasions than I can count. You promised to make me happy, I was happy; you promised to love me…and you did so. I was never loved by anyone like you. You made me feel safe and protected, you gave me everything…I’m begging you Gregory; believe me that it’s not your fault. It’s not yours or mine…it was something we always had to count on.”
“It’s not normal!”
“I know.” he chuckled. “We are not average. We are not normal as you said it several times…”
“I miss you so much love.” he sat up, but of course he was alone.
“Dad?” the door opened carefully.
“Yes dear?” he cleared his throat quickly wiping his tears.
“Who are you talking to?”
“I just…come here dear.” he patted the bed. He settled next to him pulling the blankets after him. “Let me tell you a story.” he pulled him to his arms. “About the most amazing man I knew…” he stroked his hair.