Eyes On You: Book-2 [A Mycroft Holmes Fanfiction]

Chapter 13- Match made in Heaven

At the Rathore Manor, sitting on the bedroom armchair, Tara stares idly at a box lying on the table in front of her.

Mycroft comes out of the bathroom, briefly glances at her.

'What's that?' he asked, picking up his cufflink from the dressing table, and fastened his shirt cuffs.

'Zor dropped by the medals that were awarded to Tej and me during our time at RAW' Tara said as she continued to stare at the box.

Mycroft paused and looked back at her, 'They gave it back after you-'

'Yup', blurted Tara, popping the 'P'. 'This was my favourite part of the job' she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Mycroft took a seat across from Tara.

'Getting medals?'

It had surprised Mycroft a bit, he didn't think Tara was one to enjoy an ostentatious show of her work.

'No, not having to take them home' she said, staring intently at the box of medals in front of her. She picked one up and examined it closely, 'The things we do in the name of the greater good, all the lives we've lost... it's monstrous. We go through peoples' lives, destroying them like they are mere pawns in a game of chess. Toying with them... It was a part of the job I could never reconcile with. It was a relief, not to get up every day and look at a wall that proudly displayed some of the worst things I had ever done. And for what?' she asked. Tara had always wondered about the ethical implication and moral repercussions of her job. For years she had ignored it, thinking it was for the best if she didn't think too much about ethics. But ever since she found out about her father's lies, she couldn't stop wondering. He thought he was doing the right thing, but to her, it wasn't right. It was unfair.

Being his little girl, she had followed his footsteps unquestioningly. She kind of saw their relationship as that of Trigon and his daughter, Raven. The latter questioning her learned morals and fighting to grab a grip and let go of her father's methods.

Mycroft knew exactly what Tara was talking about. He had watched entire villages turn to dust as if there were no innocent people living average lives. Even a little child playing hopscotch, unaware even of good or bad could be wiped out without getting so much as a reason or opportunity to fight.

'20 years ago, there was a terror threat in London.' Mycroft said. 'At the time I was new at the job, it was my very first engagement. I sent a team of 10 agents, to bring him in alive. Four of them died in the crossfire. That day, I had to prioritize the life of a terrorist over that of four of our best agents' Mycroft said and cocked his head, 'But at least the terrorist gave us enough information to neutralize a series of terror threats. Struck a deal with him, letters from his children, visits with his family. They were all good soldiers with families. They were fathers, sons, husbands, brothers. Later, Uncle Rudolph put me up for a medal, and I said 'I don't deserve it, the four agents who died bringing in that terrorist, they deserve that medal', to which he simply replied 'Son, a binman is needed as much as a Prime Minister in a country. We do this job because somebody has to step up and do it. When the world is safe, our country is safe and our families are safe. So, we make the tough calls, the hard decisions, and hope they work. The medal is not for what you did, it's for living with it'. This is what we do, Tara. We do our best, and carry the weight of it as best we can' he said with a sombre expression.

Tara looked at her husband, 'People still get hurt. What then?' she asked.

'We just keep trying our best' Mycroft said, and remembered his mother's words, 'Then he is very limited'. Even after four years, her words stung still Mycroft. But that was all there was to it. They had to do their best. People would probably still get hurt, but they just had to keep trying their best. 'You will still feel the rage in your blood tomorrow, and the day after. It is an interesting emotion that way, don't waste it. Use it. You want to honour Tej and Ayesha's memory, then that's the way to do it. Stop mopping around the manor, feeling sorry for yourself. Get your arse back in the field' he ordered.