Hurt/Comfort Romance Angst

Rated M for everything, I mean everything, but I don't want to be explicit and ruin the plot. My first fanfic, all reviews are greatly appreciated.

MORMOR

"Jim!" Sebastian screamed. "What the Fuck were you planning?" he continued through gritted teeth.

"This almost makes it not worth it." The psychopath purred down the phone. He glanced back through the glass pane which separated them. The water was lapping his ankles. "Sebastian it's okay, you're going to be okay." He reassured in a deadpanned voice. The water continued to pour; it was now at his knees lapping in foam like ribbons of translucent liquid. "It's going to be fine, alright." He continued. The water was at his waist and climbing. The psychopath was beside himself with fear.

Through the pane of glass Jim could make out a bleeding Sebastian Moran. The knife wound was on his right side where two of his ribs should be. The bullet wound in his shoulder was bleeding at a frighteningly fast rate, a slower rate would be manageable but that rate without medical attention could be deadly.

Through the same pane of glass Sebastian could see Jim pinned against the wall by metal support beams as the water threatened his life. The water was covering most of him and neither could think about how to get out.

"Moran! Keep your eyes open!" Sebastian slumped forward.

"Sorry, sir." He wheezed as he tried to avoid the handle of the knife colliding with the floor. "I can't."

"Say that again!"

"I can't… keep… eyes..ope…" he trailed off as his eyes drifted lazily. Moriarty threw his phone with all the strength his wrist possessed.

"Mora..!" He was cut of by a stream of bubbles that gurgled up from his mouth as the water reached his nose. He choked violently "Mora..!" he tried again before he continued to choke. "Mor" bubbles "an". He tried one last time to stop his employee dying in his sight. "Se…ba..s..ti..a..n!" then his head was underwater.

That got Sebastian Moran's attention. "Jim?" he asked weakly.

He grabbed to consciousness; trying not to worsen the wounds he had received for his earlier troubles of trying to stop his idiot boss from being killed by a Chinese gang with bloody swards, SWARDS! He grabbed at the floor and scrambled as fast as he could towards the glass. He saw Moriarty with his eyes closed but still clinging to his last breath. Sebastian drew the knife from his ribs "Hang on boss! Fuck!" as it's serrated blade sliced further into his lung, he knew he would die from shock if he didn't stop the blood flow. So he sunk to his knees and gripped the blade in his right hand. He watched almost in slow motion as a flood of bubbles escaped Professor Moriarty's lips. "Jim!" he shrieked as he slammed the blade into the glass. "Don't you dare give up!" The blood passed as freely as the water behind the glass. The knife cracked a tiny section, he threw the knife four more times within three seconds, a small hole appeared in the glass and a hurried stream of water shot through. "Jim!" He knew it was risky but he saw no other option; he took a few steps back and ran at the pane. The glass stabbed at his skin as he allowed the water to wash over me.

The beams had slipped with the force of the rapids. Jim's body spilled out with the same fluidity as the water that filled his lungs. Sebastian was at his side within the second he stopped moving. The merciless liquid flowed down the open drains at their side. Moran turned Jim onto his back and tilted is head back. "Not now boss." He could taste the blood in his mouth but he didn't think his boss would mind.

He yanked Jim's jaw open and violently gripped his nose. Without another thought Sebastian sealed his lips over Jim's. He exhaled once; leant back to let him take a breath on his own, there was no response. Down again exhale, pull back he could see his own blood dripping down his boss's jaw. "Fuck you Jim!" he pounded on Jim's chest thirty times before breathing into Jim again. "Please… don't… die!" he wheezed, he was going to die. At the moment the only thought he had was along the lines of 'if I die now I can't save him' and 'JimIgoddamloveyousodon'tdieonme'. He continued knowing his vision was swimming, his heart was weakened and his mind was on one track 'I LOVE YOU JIM MORIARTY!'. He hit the twenty minuet mark and gave it one last try, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, "please." Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, "Jim." Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, "Love" twenty, twenty-one, "Please" twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty- four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty "Jim." He sobbed as he leant down and administered a breath, "please Jim." He begged and gave a final breath before he passed out to the left of Jim Moriarty. His last conscious thought was 'job done' as he heard the small Irish man take a rasping breath.

Jim rolled onto his right and coughed up more water than he thought he could contain in his lungs. Once the convulsions had subsided he relaxed. "Moran? What hap…" he was cut off by his own memories "Moran!" he turned around and stared at the ex-cornel; pale, too pale for the tanned skin, sharp shallow breaths and blood. "Shit!" he could taste it on his lips. "Please Seb. Please wake up." He asked in his childlike voice. He tore the sleeve of his Westwood and pressed it to the gaping hole in Sebastian Moran's chest. The bullet wound hadn't pierced his lung and was only drawing minimal amounts of Moran's life force. "Come on Moran. The best with a gun and killed with a knife that's not how it's meant to happen." He pressed harder with his right hand only to draw his left to his own breast pocket. He pulled out his mobile, he was grateful that younger him had put a spair in a water proof bag, he was also grateful that he had listened to Moran when he said that they might get a little wet. He selected the numbers and sent their coordinates. "Hurry the fuck up of I'll have you all killed!" he screamed desperately.

Moran wasn't completely unconscious; he couldn't feel the pain but he could hear the frantic shouts of the master of crime. 'Jim must be hurt, well at least he's alive.' He thought. He also thought that he had never heard the madman this emotional; he was a psychopath and a killer. So was he, but usually he was under orders. Jim's orders. He was a good boss for Moran; cold, manipulative, brutal, deluded, a megalomaniac and above all he was oh so changeable. He thought with a smile as he remembered Sherlock's face at the pool. That's probably why he didn't mind dying like this. He was meant, if anything, to die in that chlorine filled swimming pool. Now he was lying on a middle floor of the London sewer which had been destroyed by one of Jim's adversaries. He knew this man would be the death of him; from the Irish purr of an accent to the manic chocolate eyes. Than shorter man screamed danger and the taller man came packing.

He wouldn't be surprised if the shorter man left him there as collateral either. Even though he would give everything to look Jim in the eyes he knew Jim would most likely scoop out his own andsell them on eBay and see how much he could make from harvesting in the modern day. He wasn't completely okay with it but he could just make out Jim's twisted logic which justified every questionable decision. The man had trust issues, a lack of self preservation in the face of danger, no family who could love him and a love of the beejees. He could see that no matter what state Jim was in now he would leave; because the world needs Professor James Moriarty middle name unknown and the world would happily reject ex-cornel Sebastian Moran an alcoholic, American with a low opinion of himself but god taste in men; given his love for his boss. With that he relaxed, still conscious of the screaming around him but only as a loud drone of noise and a smile on his face.

Jim Moriarty waited; he knew Moran didn't have long, he also knew that he would have had longer if he hadn't of drawn the knife from his ribs. "Why the fuck did you pull the fucking knife out!" he was desperate he could feel the sniper getting weaker. "Moran you are the best sniper I have. Don't die until you've trained a new one. But you won't will you. And I won't let you. Sebastian Moran you are the greatest human being I have ever met and I will not stand by that until I die!" he could feel his eyes filling with tears. "See look what you made me do. I never cried until you. Did you know that some nights I think about the way life was before I met you, when I would risk it all for a game. Remember the great game, when Sherlock pointed the gun at the bomb. I didn't care if I died, but then I realised; if that bomb went off it would destroy the foundations you were standing on. I couldn't let you die could I?" he whimpered and more blood stained the fabric steadily. "I should send something to Miss Adler for calling, maybe a gift basket filled with props from the new fifty shades of grey film." He carried on. Moran's pulse was getting slower. The wounds weren't that bad; that's what infuriated Jim. Sebastian would have been fine if he'd not have tried to be a hero. "Why would you Do something so stupid?" at that moment the rescue team herded through to the two men like a pack of rats.

"Sir we need you to step way." As Moran was lifted onto a stretcher Moriarty did the most human thing he thought he had ever done; he held the sniper's hand, gently and securely. As they got into the ambulance Jim stayed silent for once, not wanting to get in the teams way. It was only when Moran was wheeled into surgery in one of his private hospitals did he ask the nurs in the most hushed voice he had ever used "Will he be alright?". He was quiet; Moran was his strength and his control. He didn't know how to process what he was feeling. "Please." 'Only you Moran' he thought bitterly.

"Their going to remove the bullet, it only seems to be a flesh wound, nothing vital was harmed. Their going to try and remove the damaged tissue from his left side and save what they can. All the way through the procedures they will be giving bloods. It is also highly likely that he will need a blood transfusion at the end. I can get the doctor if you want him to refer you to a family support councillor."

"We're not family we're…" he stopped. What were they "He's my employee, the best so I want him taken care of. Understand." She flashed him a sickly sweet smile.

"That's why he's here." 'god you remind me of that filthy Molly Hooper.' The though with disgust and amusement. He sank onto one of the plastic chairs outside the 'no entry doors'

Moran, drugged up to the eyeballs began to dream about his life before the job, before the suits and before Jim. There was him, a room, a bottle and a gun. One night he took the two friends to the park; he drank until morning when a young girl woke him up hunched up under the swings. He hadn't meant to kill her; she made him jump and he pulled the trigger. He hated it when kids died without good reason. He could say that the girl was an accident, it wouldn't weigh heavily on his conscience but it would always be there. Jim had only ever given the sniper one child and Jim learnt to never do that again, not to Moran. The child was a five year old boy his father a member of Scottish parliament crossed Jim so this was revenge. Moran made it painless, bullet between the eyes from a distance. When he got home Jim saw Moran sitting on the bathroom floor flicking his lighter on and off as silent tears slipped down his face. Moriarty allowed him his pride and left without a word. Moran dreamt about the way he knew Jim had seen him and allowed him that. He remembered when Jim had found him passed out in an alleyway and shot the man trying to rape him. By that time he didn't really care he was so close to death it was almost necrophilia. Jim threw Moran's arm over his shoulders and carried him to the waiting car.

Jim thought about life before Moran. He didn't care about anything other than his appearance and his apartment. Since Moran was thrown at him he noticed several changes: he was more patient, not with his men if they cocked up that was it, but if a job took a little longer than usual and had the best outcome then he didn't mind as much. He was more aware of the strength of people in the street, one day the man that tried to bugger Moran in the street found the Irishman's apartment from following his car.

Knock knock

"Moran why are you back early did you fuck up." Moriarty threw his apartment door open to be greeted by a filthy man wearing scummy jeans and a torn grey T-shirt. "who the hell…" and then he remembered. He tried to slam the door but it was blocked by the man's foot and hand. His grizzled brown hair hung over his face but Jim could make out a wiry smile. "Hello. I was hoping I would find your charming friend here. But I suppose you'll do."Jim wasn't scared at first it was only when the man was straddling him pinning him to the floor that he felt a small twinge of fear spike his mind. "Help!" he screamed. The man hit him across the face. He jumped up and grabbed a carving knife from the kitchen.

"We can't have anyone see you like this can we?" before the criminal could say anything he was stripped of all of his clothing and lying face first on his Persian rug. The other man raked the bladeover Jims back and down to his member. Jim still dazed from the blow to the face let out a pained gasp as the unforgiving man above him dug the tip of the blade in, hard. "Oh we're a little bit of a slut aren't we. Look at you, you're disgusting and…" the dirty man was cut off by large hands pulling him to his feet. Sebastian punched the man so hard and so repetitively that he ruptured his stomach. He took the carving knife from the floor next to Jim and removed the man's face, scalp, ears nose and penis with a calm expression with storm clouds in his eyes.

Once the man stopped convulsing on the floor Moran picked up Jim's clothes. Neither knew what Jim needed at that moment so it didn't matter when Cornel Sebastian Moran lifted Jim into his arms and carried him bridal style to their bathroom. Once the professor realised what was going on he tried to free himself from the snipers grasp. Moran only lowered the man to the floor but did not release his grip on the fragile black soul who had been so brutally mistreated. "Jim?" it was the first time he used his first name. Jim clung to the arms of the stronger man beneath him. After an hour and forty-seven minuets Sebastian led Jim the rest of the way to the bathroom and sat him on he toilet seat. He took out the first aid kit and began cleaning and dressing the large cut on the criminal's back. "You should really see a doctor about this. The cut on your back 'll be fine but you might want to get that sorted out professionally." Though it was dark Jim couldn't help but smirk at the innuendo. "Sir?"

"Moran where were you? You're supposed to be my body guard and you let him get to me." He didn't really blame Moran, Jim sent him on a job Moran said that the job would take three hours. He was right three hours on the clock and Moran was back witnessing the attempted rape of his boss. "If you can't take care of me then…" that was it Moran broke down.

"I'm sorry, I should have been here. Jim you know that really it wasn't either of our faults. I couldn't follow two orders at once and, and you couldn't help that, that man is a disgusting pervert. Once I've finished here I'm going to shred his body like a secretary and a forged document." Jim was speechless; he watched this man crumble under his own weight. "Sorry Sir. It won't happen again."

With that memory Jim woke to the sound of doors crashing open and a gurney being wheeled out. Jim recognised the name on the chart by the owner's large feet and followed it into the ICU.

Jim sat by the bed for three days without any change in his snipers' condition. On day four it hit Jim like a wave of radiation; had Sebastian given him mouth to mouth? Had the sniper given what he thought was his last breath to Jim. Memories from that day were spinning in his sleep deprived state. The way the water had taken all of his strength, the way it stopped him from giving orders, the way Sebastian's lips sealed over his "Jim?" Jim straitened up at the sound of his employee's voice.

"You idiot Moran!"

"Are you alright sir?" he croaked through the mistiness of his cognitions. Moriarty's heart broke. It was already small and shut off and now it was aching. Sebastian was worried about him, while it was him who was lying in the hospital bed. " . ?" he persisted.

It took every ounce of self will to scream the one word that would do them both the greatest good "Doctor!"as a few medical staff burst in, he slipped out. He sat in a generic white plastic hospital chair. 'Moran was only ever concerned about him, him! Jim Moriarty.' But then an ultimately more terrifying question entered his own mind as he slumped forward and rubbed his face with his clammy hands 'I've waited four days, I tried to save and I'm comforted by the thought that he is concerned about me. I love the drinking, smoking, killing Sebastian Moran.' He felt a sickly smile spread across his tired face. He smelt bad, he looked haggard, his Westwood was bloodied and sleeveless and he couldn't care less. Tears slipped freely from his yes; pure relief flooded his system. One oldish doctor reminded Moriarty of Bob Kelso from scrubs, he thought with bitter amusement. "How is he?"

"Well his right lung is absolutely fine, his left is playing up, he's stable and he's showing great signs of improvement."

"What's his prognosis?"

"We're going to need to keep him in the ICU until tomorrow. Then he will be moved to a private room. Once we are confident that he is recovered enough, we believe that this will be in about a week we will then release him; on the condition that he makes visits three times a week for the next month. He's going to be on painkillers for several months if not a year. After that he might only need them at selected times. Overall he's a very lucky man. You're a very lucky man. And he's very lucky to have a boyfriend like you."

"I'm not his boyfriend."

"Really?" he blinded me with a knowing smile before. "Well we'll be checking in on him every hour so you may talk to him for now. But if you see him in pain please give him a shot of morphine." And with that the short grey haired medic walked right passed the master criminal. Jim sucked up what courage he had while being so unbearably exhausted.

"What the hell were you doing Moran?" Moran's eyes were wide as he tried to keep himself awake.

"Sir are you alright? What happened?" Jim sighed and sank into the chair next to his sniper.

"You were shot."

"I know."

"You were stabbed."

"I know."

"I was trapped behind glass and steel and was about to drown."

"Yes." Moran shuddered.

"You removed the knife from your lung and smashed the glass. Risking your life, but you already knew that. Didn't you?"

Moran looked down at his chest and played with the cotton ribbons at the collar of his hospital gown. "Oh."

"Yes you then proceeded to give me mouth to mouth; completely ignoring your own injuries."

"Of course."

For the next week James Moriarty sat at Sebastian Moran's bedside reading Plato's republic or he talked to Dr Kelso, as he had jokingly named him. Then like doctor 'Kelso', had said Seb was released back to their shared apartment. On the day he left the doctor had pulled him to one side.

"Thank you doctor." Jim couldn't remember the last time he even marginally liked someone other than his sniper. This man shared his same cynical view of the world, who was only a doctor for the interest in injuries and chemicals it made him out of the ordinary. 'Must remember to do something for him, maybe give him enough money to retire to Fiji or something'.

"Well you're more than welcome short stuff." 'Make that Swindon.' "James you really do love him; he's probably the only person you will ever love and he loves you. He would die for you."

"If he loved me he wouldn't scare me like that, or risk his life for mine."

"Because he number one believes that you don't harbour any feelings for him, that and he has had a life where people only ever want him for his gifts with a gun. Now though there are going to be other who can be trained to be as good as him if not better. But intelligence cannot be trained and you James Moriarty cannot be replaced that and you would be the only person who would notice that he died and even then he believes that you don't care. I suggest you tell him how you feel before he takes one too many risks and you end up loosing a highly valued employee." 'Dependant on outcome either have him killed or treated like a king.' "Well goodbye Napoleon." Jim walked after Sebastian who was being wheeled to their car by his driver. Jim caught up to them; he shooed the driver to get the car started and took over wheeling Sebastian.

Sebastian was shocked by the affectionate way Jim's thumbs rubbed his shoulder blades as he slowly pushed the chair to the car door. He was even more shocked when Jim, the most uncaring man, the most dangerous man in Europe, allowed the sniper to wrap his arms around his neck. He lifted Moran's legs into the car to mitigate the strain on Sebastian's ribs he climbed onto the seat next to his employee and strapped them both in.

"Rodger, Home. Slow down at the speed bumps." He couldn't believe how sympathetic he was being. He was wasting time to lessen the pain the strong man next to him would have to endure. The drive was silent except from the pained hisses as sharp turns caused Moran's injuries to spasm and Jim's winces which thank god went unnoticed by the gunman.

The car pulled up outside their apartment block. Jim got out of his side wile the driver removed a spare wheelchair from the boot. Sebastian managed to shift himself rather unceremoniously into the seat. Jim managed to break the handle off the car as he slammed it shut, the tension building inside him was in no way Sebastian's fault but at the same time it was entirely his fault and the great mastermind could not work out which one he was going to act on. So he remained impartial and detached.

They got into the flat and for the first five hours neither man broke the silence. It wasn't comfortable but it wasn't awkward, merely there.

"Sir." Moran started with an embarrassed heavy tone.

"Yes." The psychopath replied absently.

"Sir I'm beginning to fall asleep in my chair and I would like to go to bed." That got Jim's attention why is he telling me, does he want me with him.

"Yes."

"Sir I can't change into my nightclothes and get into bed on my own."

"Oh. Do you want me to get someone to deal with that?" he watched at Seb noticeably tried to keep his eyes open, it was the same at the hospital. "Alright." He slowly steered the chair to Sebastian's bedroom and kicked the door open. He parked the chair next to the bed and went over to the chest of draws. The blond had a wide array of suitsand silk pyjamas in the wardrobe but the chocolate eyed man knew that the soldier would need to be more comfortable; he pulled out a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a vest top. He allowed the blond to wrap his arms around his neck while he lifted his hips and removed the mans trousers. They had seen each other naked they had stripped each other to patch up wounds and inject antidotes. They both realised that it would be easier for Jim to change his employee on the bed. After a lot of struggling they managed to sit Moran on the edge of the sheets. He slipped the vest on one arm at a time, as he trailed the fabric over his chest he let his eyes and fingers linger over the scars. Jim levered the sniper back onto the bed and turned him around clockwise. Jim climbed onto the bed at Moran's feet. He slipped Seb's boxers off his legs and threw them at the washing basket. He quickly pulled the fresh pair up to his knees, but he slipped and his face ended up hovering over Sebastian's member. He could see his hot breath was affecting Moran in more than one way so he pulled back instantly and pulled up the underwear. He tugged the sweat pants up the blonde's legs to rest on his hips. He was thinner from his stay in hospital, the lack of protein and increase in sugars has almost erased the defined muscles on his arms and legs.

With that Jim collapsed to the side of the soldier. Moran cast Moriarty a sideways glance. He appreciated the kindness and care that the usually cold man was allowing him. He drew the blanket that rested at the end of the bed with his foot. He pulled it up around the two of them. He turned onto his side to look at Moriarty in the face. Before he let sleep claim him he gracelessly took of Jim's Westwood off and tossed it at the chair to the side of the bed and missed. He looked at the face of the proclaimed psychopath, his relaxed features, long eyelashes, pale lips and perfect skin. He was a killer and absolutely fantastic. With that Sebastian fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

Jim awoke only a few hours later not being able to work out where he wasand why he had been asleep. He cracked his eyes open to see Sebastian weeping in his sleep. "Fuck." He whispered. He ran as fast as he could to the box of medication the driver had brought up. He took out the three seclusions Seb needed and ran back to the bedroom. He took the first vial and tipped it down Moran's throat. He took the second and a clean syringe attached to it, he drew out ten milligrams, tapped out the air bubbles and injected it into his wrist. He took the final vial and filled the syringe with morphine and placed it on the bedside table. He looked down at the usually disciplined soldier, with the unreadable expression. He was now huddled and curled in on himself weeping silently. They told him that this may happen although he didn't expect the man to react to the pain so severely. It was then that he realised that he cared for this man more as a friend than an employee. He clambered back to Sebastian's side on the bed and wrapped his arms around the sniper's shoulders.

Moran stiffened at the sudden warmth of the criminal's chest on his head, or rather his head on the criminal's warm chest. The drugs pulled at his mind before he could read into the strange kindness of the psychopath. "Thank you Sir." He said before passing out.

The next morning the inevitable happened, Moran needed the toilet. As he tried to sit up his scars tugged and his stitches strained. Eventually he manoeuvred himself off the bed and into his chair. He wheeled himself to the toilet; he tried to stand but the effort of breathing got too much. He forced himself to sit once he was done he shifted back to the chair and over to the shower. He sat on the floor and washed his lower half and his arms, he couldn't risk tripping knocking himself out, landing on the plug hole and drowning. People already think he has a death wish and that was just for working for the great Jim Moriarty. He didn't really want Jim to have to pull his naked corps out of the shower as apposed to kicking it off a bridge. He managed to unhook the showerhead from the high side of the shower by throwing the bar of soap. He threw the soap again to turn the water on. He wasgrateful that the criminal had infested in a large shower, it wasthe size of four standing showers connected into a large square. He hated being so tall as his body still had to crumple in order to fit. Washing himself was slower than he had thought; he couldn't reach forward to get his feet, whilst taking care not to get his bandages wet. One rather sudden movement caused by jumping at the sound of the soap from above him hitting the floor next to him. He grew dizzy from the pain and nearly slumped onto the plug hole. With that the master of crime opened the shower door and climbed in. he was dressed in his boxers and a tatty grey T-shirt. He proceeded to lift the sniper back to the sitting position. "Sir. I'm sorry for all this."

"Oh, Moran. You're going to have a lot of overtime after this." Hekneeled in-between the sniper's legs. He proceeded to pick up the soap and rubbed it into his hands before he began rubbing relaxing circles in Sebastian's legs.

Jim saw Moran flinch when he caught a sensitive muscle but they both knew that they had to get them as strong as usual. The long stay in hospital had meant that Moran's legs had been almost completely neglected. He picked up the shower head and washed the soap off while still rubbing away at the muscled calves. He moved his way up to the blonde's knees followed cautiously by moving his hands to his thighs. Jim couldn't help it, if you removed the life threatening wounds but kept the blood the sight was delicious. Once his legs were clean he was resting right over his employee. The water running was starting to bring back the memories of drowning luckily he was brought out of his retrieve buy Moran's fingers gently gripping his upper arm reassuringly. Jim looked into the deep blue eyes that spoke of pain, war, exhaustion andsomething Moriarty couldn't place but it stopped him from choking on air. "Moran."

"Yes."

Jim gave him a very disappointed look.

"Yes Sir." He didn't know what he was meant to say but it must have worked; Moriarty stood in his wet clothes, opened the door to the shower and walked out. He returned a moment later carrying towels and bandages. Jim turned the shower tap off and wrapped a towel around Sebastian's shoulders. The sniper tried to pull most of his weight as Moriarty helped him out of the shower to the chair but the breaths were still nothing more than gasps. He fell into his chair with Jim still holding onto him. He had to give the shorter man credit he was bloody strong. Jim dried the tall tanned body which grew with colour every day spent in recovery. He pulled on a fresh pair of underwear and clean sweat pants before he knelt down and looked up at the injured chest.

Moran was tired from the morning. He couldn't remember a time when he felt this weak and helpless. When Jim began to remove the bloodied dressing Seb's hands shot up to keep it pressed down. "Sir you don't want to see."

"Moran I kill people. I slice of their faces and cut out their hearts. This is no different." 'So I'm no more important than anyone else.'Moran thought at the same time as lowering his hand. He wouldn't have minded the criminal not caring about him if he acted as though he didn't care about him. Although this was more cruel, perhaps Jim knew about his feelings for him and was trying to convey that this was his punishment.

While thinking his he missed the flashes of anger, pain, contempt and sadness pass over James Moriarty's face when he peeled back the dressing. There was a large section where the skin indented almost two inches and it was all bloody. The scaring was almost as fresh as the day it had been made. Neither had even thought about the tissue heeling Seb wasn't superficial anyway; but it hurt Jim. Sebastian was his. He didn't know what sort of his he was but he was at least Jim's responsibility and Jim was Sebastian's. Sebastian had saved Jim; that in itself almost resulted in passive suicide. Whereas Jim had not been able to stop the knife or bullets from piercing Sebastian's flesh. The doctors hadn't removed the bullet there was so little internal damage but that didn't stop it from hurting. He snapped his head back to the task at hand and cleaned the stitched wound with rubbing alcohol and cotton. Sebastian was in excruciating pain he was good at masking it to the point where any of us would believe that he was fine however Jim could seethe breath was a tenth of a second out of its usual sync and the creases at the sides of his eyes deepened with every dab of the cotton on his skin. Once any and all bacteria had been placed a new square cotton patch on the bullet wound and fixed it on all four sides with medical tape. He moved across to the knife wound and repeated the procedure. Then the criminal stood up and left.

Moran wheeled himself after the criminal. He may be injured and unable to work as a sniper but he would have to stop Jim Moriarty from killing himself. He made every meal, he attached the vacuum cleaner to his chair and cleaned the flat, he took the laundry down to the washer and dryer. The only things he couldn't do himself were ones which involved lifting his arms or being on his feet. Moriarty reached for everything Seb would need to cook, he helped him get dressed, he helped him shower, change his dressings and made sure he went to the hospital for all the necessary appointments. This was the case for the next two weeks. The two scarcely talked except for the casual thanks and the order for dinner. When the sniper sat on the couch watching television he always kept his ears on the position of his boss. He could hear the blissful sound of Jim typing violently in the kitchen. It was nice to hear the normal sound as if nothing happened. He had noticed a great change in the man; he didn't use Seb as a punching bag anymore, he didn't threaten him with guns or knives anymore, he didn't sleep in his own room anymore it was always with Sebastian always; in the doorway in the chair by the bed or lying to his side, he didn't throw venomous sayings in his direction because the man didn't talk. Not at all the flat was silent at night there were no more smashing noises from the kitchen, there was no more screaming and there was no more talking. They did talk when Jim was in the mood, they talked about work at work but at home they were friends and on some occasions the fly on the wall would say that they were more.

One WeekAfter The Attempted Rape Of Jim Moriarty

"Sir you have to eat something. It's been a week." Sebastian sat outside his boss's bedroom. "Please Sir, let me in."

"Why." He sounded like a little Irish child.

"So I can help you."

"Why didn't you stop him then, if you were there I wouldn't have you sitting out there."

"Jim just unlock the door. I can't change the past Jim but please let me see you eat something." A key slid under the door. Sebastian moved faster than he ever had. He snatched it up and unlocked the two way lock on the door. He nearly broke the hinges with the velocity with which he swung the handle. There sat Jim Moriarty in his silk pyjamas half under the covers in bed. "Thank you sir."

"There. Are you happy now?" he whispered in the night time darkness save for the light from the bedside table.

"No," He picked up a tray laden with chicken soup and toast and tea, "eat this and shut up."

"Why weren't you there?"

"You know why. I was at work." Jim picked up the spoon and eyed the liquid suspiciously before sipping it between his razor thin lips. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask me?"

Jim's chocolate eyes were wide and full of emotion, "Why?"

"It doesn't get any easier to deal with. Also I'm sorry that I wasn't there to stop him from touching you, I'm sorry that I wasn't there to stop him from hurting you but I am not sorry that I stopped him from getting any further. I hate seeing you like this boss; you're better than this. Will you let me have a look at your back?" He was careful, though Jim didn't seem to have an issue with people making sudden movements towards him Sebastian didn't want to startle the now eating man. Jim swallowed the last of his soup and looked up at Sebastian, trying to work out if he could trust him. The look nearly distroyed the sniper who only wanted to grab the criminal by the shoulders and shake him until he got the old Jim, nearly. Jim nodded and shuffle forward on the bed and leant forward so Sebastian could crawl behind him and check the healing progress of the wound. Sebastian did so and peeled the bandage back with a great deal of delicacy. The scratch was almost completely gone and with no signs of infection. He moved to take the tray and leave the room but was stopped but Jim grabbing his suit sleeve "You wore it."

"It usually cheers you up when I look respectable." He stated before turning to leave before hearing the all too familiar Irish hum come from the bed.

"Stay."

"Jim have you slept since..?" he left the question unfinished they both knew what he was referring to.

"No. Please stay." Sebastian placed the tray on the bedside table before removing his jacket and lying down next to his exhausted boss who was still sat upright.

"Lay down Jim." Te psychopath did as he was told but kept his eyes open.

"Jim?" the smaller man looked at his sniper who was holding out his arms, he scoffed and continued to stare at the ceiling. "Do you want me to act solely as your body guard or do you want me to remove myself from your employment?"

"hmm?" Jim sleepily asked, "What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to act as your chief sniper, your body guard or remove myself from your employment altogether?" he didn't mind which Jim chose it was either a lifetime of service or a death certificate.

"We carry on as normal. Starting from tomorrow. I have a list of five people that must be dead before midnight."

"Jim you know you can tell me what's wrong. Is it the feeling of helplessness or the violation?" It was too direct he didn't mean to do that. But he remembered the feelings from his own attack and wondered what the psychopath was going through.

"It's none of your business. Is it?"

"Well I am lying in my boss's bed at one o'clock in the morning because he hasn't moved for a week. He hasn't slept because there is the irrational fear that the locks and security systems won't keep out men like him."

"Don't you dare!" he screamed as tears came into his eyes, Sebastian had hit the nail on the head. But as the first few tears began to flow Moran gently moved the smaller man into his arms. "Moran!"

"Nothing is getting to you while I'm here Sir. It was part of the job description." He smiled. In that moment they were more like friends that boss and employee. Jim shifted his weight so he could cry into Sebastian's shirt. They knew the tears were more from sleep deprivation than trauma and didn't speak of it. The truth was that Moran hadn't slept for the last thee days, he'd been trying to get Jim to sleep and forgot about himself. Within ten minuets they were both asleep holding each other for comfort. That night they suffered three nightmares each but when they tried to move the other would tighten their grip and sleepily mumble nothings until it passed. Neither would remember the nightmares, the cuddling, the words of comfort or the hinted declarations of love. Sebastian was just grateful for being woken up at nine am by his boss who was dressed in his navy blue Westwood shouting orders and threats at a million miles a minuet. Neither would have it either other way.

"Jim." Moran sighed as his head lolled back on the sofa.

"Sebastian." Came the surprising response.

"Jim, were you in that hospital the whole time I was?" the typing stopped.

"What made you think something like that?"

"I remembered something last night. When I was in hospital you were speaking to me, but it wasn't normal. Were you reading to me?"

"I was reading out loud, you just happened to be in the room. Why, does it matter?"

"Was it Plato?"

"Yes what did you think?" Jim was trying to hide the fear that Sebastian had heard him mumbling pointless dribble about his love for the sniper.

"Wasn't really paying attention to be honest, I was just wondering if you had been there the whole time."

"Most of it." 'More like all of it.' he thought with an irritatingly human way.

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to ensure that my best sniper pulled through. Any signs that you wouldn't have been able to return to the job and I would be right there to prepare a replacement. Why do you care?"

"Just wondering what happened when I was out."

"Well now you know. What did you think happened? Or a better question is what did you think would happen." Jim notice Moran pale at this, as if someone had thrown a gallon of water over a watercolour portrait. "Moran."

"I thought you would have left me and got yourself sorted out." The blonde settled shyly 'you thought I would do that to you.' Moriarty thought, hurt flashing through his chest. His emplofriend, is friend thought he would leave him to rot in a sewer. "I'm sorry Sir."

"How long until you can return to work?"

"Two weeks."

"Good. I didn't want to waste any time replacing you when you can take out the pre written list in a tenth of the time."

With that the criminal left the flat. He never left the flat but he needed to clear the thoughts of Sebastian dying with a smile on his face even though he believed that his friend would leave him. He didn't like leaving the flat alone, he didn't like the idea of things being out of his control. He became conscious of three things; one, tears were making prominent tracks down his face, two, it was dark and three there were hurried footsteps closely following him. He carefully picked up his pace to try and avoid whoever was behind him. It might have just been coincidence but he wasn't going to rely on that. He got faster until he was almost running; he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Stopped dead, the hand was strong and careful not to hurt the Irishman.

"Boss it's not safe for you to go out on your own. Boss calm down it's me." 'I'm still only 'boss' to you.' But the smaller man did stop and he followed the soldier back to the flat where Moran took off their shoes and led them to the bedroom. They lay down on the bed; as soon as their heads hit the pillows they were asleep.

Moran had panicked wheneverJim went out on his own, it was something he never did but worse than that was the fact that he never lost his temper enough to forget someone. 'A lot of people want him dead' he thought quickly. Jim wasn't like Sherlock, he didn't have an internal satnav with receptors which had memorised the London A-Z. He struggled to his feet, grabbed his cane and tumbled out of the door and towards the lift. Jim took the lift which left Sebastian with the stairs. He half fell down the thirty flights of stairs. 'Where the fuck would he go?' 'James Moriarty you hormonal teenager where would you go'. 'right' Jim would go right because that was the way the entrance pointed, he's on auto pilot and not thinking. Right went straight to the seedy area of town and it would surprise the sniper if one of them tried to have a slice of the shorter man. He limped for hours around the London streets hoping that his boss. He walked quickly with his cane in hand, he really did feel like an old man but at least he could walk on his own. Sebastian walked three roads not entirely sure which one the madman would have taken as he acted purely on instinct. As he made yet another turn he saw his boss walking the middle of the road; he frowned at the thought of his boss absentmindedly wondering the streets of London. He also saw a gang approaching his boss from behind. Without thinking he walked up behind them, let's just say that the second most dangerous man in Europe with a cane is a great deal more dangerous than a gang kitted out in guns and knives. Once the gang members were little more than mutilated corpses in a nearby alleyway Moran chased after his boss before he could attract any more unwanted attention. He grabbed his bosses shoulder "Boss it's not safe for you to go out on your own. Boss calm down it's me." 'Because I don't like seeing you panic when I touch you.' He thought bitterly as the smaller man followed him home. Jim was still on auto pilot when Moran sat him down on the edge of the bed and got down on his knees. Sebastian gently removed Jim's shoes 'why can't I see more of you?' Moran's mind offered. He then took his own shoes off and made to leave the room but he was stopped by a finger hooked through his trouser belt loop. Jim looked up at him with tired eyes 'tell me what is wrong.' He thought but remained silent as he took the place next to the haggard man. He looked at those drained eyes before his own snapped shut.

True to his word two weeks after Jim's little adventure around London Sebastian Moran the greatest sniper in Europe was perched on top of Barclays bank aiming at a window opened a crack. Moran craved his work it brought him away from the casual reminders that his love was not requited. The mark sat in the chair and the bullet took up its new residence between the two halves of his brain. Moran snatched up his phone and texted his boss that his first job was done and he was heading to the next mark. This was going to be risky; he would have to make his way down the stairs inside the bank, cross the road, make is way up the stairs of the building which contained his most recent victim. He slung his gun in his guitar case and swung the case over his shoulder. He made it down the stairs and across the road before his ribs began to ache from the stress of killing four people before noon then go home and make sure his boss ate. The next kill went without a hitch and the third would be similar, go down stairs cross the road and enter another building on the opposite side of the street. He got down the first flight of stairs before his breathing became ragged and his ribs felt that they were going to collapse under the pressure 'not on the first day moron' he carried on his way to his next post. Walking all CCTV blind spot paths to the next post he walk the next stairwell to his post; gasping the whole way. He set up his tripod willing this to be a quick shot. He sat there and waited, and waited, and waited until eventually the mark made his first appearance. He was in a block of flats across from Moran, no one would see him he was kitted out in all black with a stiff leather jacket to take the brunt of the impact from the rifle. Thanks to the marks delays it was now pitch black and even with the city glow illuminating the skyline the sniper was too professional to be seen much less caught. As the mark moved further into his flat Moran noticed something about him, something familiar. Jim had instructed him to be there and kill this man but he didn't actually know his name, which was unusual. When an elderly lady walked in it hit him like a tone of bricks; James Moriarty had ordered him, Sebastian Moran to kill Arthur Cilnet in front of Marie Cilnet, formerly Tharur Moran his younger brother and Riema Moran his mother. Of course he wasn't their relation anymore, after his dishonourable discharge they disowned him and went into hiding. He didn't care, he knew who they were but didn't bother digging up the past. He was ordered by James Moriarty to kill this man and the fact that the sniper had taught the man in question: how to ride a bike, how to swear and how to fire a gun shouldn't come into the equation. He did however offer his ex-mother one grace and that was letting the two of them sit, eat dinner and for her to say goodbye to her younger, now only son, and go home. This would be the only time Moran would go against his boss's direct orders unless it was to save the mad man. He packed up his gun and walked into his brothers building.

Upon reaching 'Arthur's' room he readied his hand gun and knocked on the door. The man who opened the door held a remarkable resemblance to Sebastian, the blond hair the strong build and the sharp features. He did not however have the same blue eyes instead his were framed by thin rimmed glasses and the colour of pale emeralds. "It's been a while Seb, hasn't it?" he held open the door and allowed the blue eyed man to enter.

"Nice to see that you and mother are still on speaking terms." He retorted as the younger man closed the door and he fell onto a plush white sofa.

"How about we cut the family crap; I know you're an assassin, I know you are here to kill me but I want to know..?"

"What?"

"Why is one of the world's greatest sniper assassins in my apartment when there is a perfectly good spot to perch and shoot from?"

"I wanted to know why I have been sent to kill you. What did you do?"The other man sat on the second sofa at a right angle to the one Sebastian sat on.

"You see I made a deal with a devil."

"Professor James Moriarty."

"Oh you've met him then. Done anything with him." He smirked, it was like the old times when Seb would be teased about his constant stream of one night stands.

"He hired me after all of you quite rightly abandoned me." That was when Arthur's face dropped and a few beads of sweat began to form on his brow.

"Oh." Was all he had to say but then a smirk played across his wiry lips "Oh." He stated with a lot more confidence than he should have done.

"What now?"

"I placed an order for a kill and Mr Moriarty said that his sniper was more than capable and asked who I wanted killed. I thought his expression changed a little too quickly, we were getting along absolutely fine until I said that name. He suddenly turned all business man on me and said he would sent his sniper round to discuss my mark's movements as it was going to be a difficult kill. I knew this to begin with and I questioned the abilities of even his top sniper. And here you are, sent with direct orders to kill me. He must really love you." Sebastian's mind became clear, the small air of brotherly betrayal was cemented underground by his boss's emotions; he knew that Seb would meet this man and explain why he was going to kill his brother and he would find out that his brother was going to kill him but above all Jim would put Sebastian above business. "Do you love him?"

"Would you like me to kill you at random through the window or would you like me to do it while you are pouring drinks?" There was no vocal answer the soon to be dead man walked to the cabinet while the last Moran drew his hand gun.

"Oh Sebastian I meant to say, you were a good brother while you were there; no hard feelings. By the way mother knew what I was planning, this was our celebration dinner." With that his brother sank to the floor as the silent weapon threw a round at the base of his skull. He took off out the apartment door slamming it behind him.

He made his way to his apartment. He walked on auto pilot not flinching when the police car sped straight past him, not flinching when the lift got stuck and not reacting when he was rugby tackled by his manic boss. He was sat with his back against the now closed door, his boss straddling his lap, fisting the lapels of his jacket. "Where were you!" Jim screamed landing his fist on his sniper's jaw. "I told you to text me after every mark went down! I only got two texts and then you come home five hours late! I didn't think you were coming home!" He carried on with anger and relief.

"Do you have that little confidence in me?" he asked deadpan.

"You are only just out of recovery and your last target is almost as capable in armed conflict as yourself! He wanted you dead!"

"Of course he was good; I taught him."

"Moran! Your loyalties lie with me and me alone! If he's alive I can't…" He trailed off with almost betrayal etched on his face.

"Point blank range, a bullet through the base of his skull. I didn't follow your orders directly but they won't trace it back to us." He said gently pushing Jim off his lap and standing up. "It was a one off. Please forgive my indiscretion. I knew he must have done something worth death for you to send me after him. I am only disappointed that he did nothing worth what he got."

Jim looked absolutely horrified at this remark "He wanted you dead."

"Every single one of your clients has wanted someone dead, why did he have to die." Sebastian was more curious than upset. Jim grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him at the wall; for someone so sort and skeletal he wasn't half strong. "Jim?"

"You're not someone! You are mine! And no one is going to kill you!"

"I'm yours?" he repeated "Since when have I been owned?"

"You're not the only one who is owned! You have me! I don't want you to but you have me in the palm of your hand!"

"Jim?"

"I hate you for hat Moran! Really I do." He leant against the door which was serving as judge jury and counsellor for the two men.

"Jim?"

"I thought you died Sebastian. I've already seen that once and it was the most horrific experience of my life. Not knowing if you were dead or alive was almost worse; you could have been anywhere or anything. For all I knew you were being tortured!"

"Jim did you fall asleep before I came home?" He nodded his head solemnly. Moran knew he was taking a risk but he couldn't help it, his boss had suffered a very graphic nightmare and he wasn't going to be unresponsive; he reached forward and pulled the shorter man into a tight embrace and placed a gentle kiss to his hair "Jim, look at me. I'm right here. Nothing's wrong, we're both fine." To his great surprise Jim didn't move away but instead wrapped his arms around the gunman and let the relief sink in. Once he was reassured that his sniper was really there and not dying in an alleyway he looked up at his usually loyal employee and saw a distant sadness. He knew what he was about to do was hazardous, this man would never attack him but he might lose his respect. So he listed the pros and cons; cons: he could lose a substantial amount of respect, his reputation among his other employees would dwindle but not enough to make them disloyal, he is the Napoleon of crime and he would be showing weakness and he doesn't want to be rejected. Pros: those lips look so soft. With that he leaned up and pressed his lips to Sebastian's anchoring him with his right arm which coiled around the back of his neck.

Moran stood there for a second, wondering what his boss was doing. But those lips, they could tease out confessions and sentence death but they moved with such hesitance but passion he could almost read Jim's mind, as tears soaked his face he couldn't resist reassuring the smaller man that everything was alright; he responded and pushed Jim gently against the door. Moran wrapped his arms around his waist and swiped his tongue along Jim's lower lip. The smaller man shivered and opened his mouth wider. Moran noted every detail of his boss's mouth before his boss fought for dominance. Moran wasn't one for taking the submissive role but with this man he might let that slip just as Jim won the battle. Jim's other hand stroked up Sebastian's stubbeled cheek. For a master criminal Moran was shocked by how loving the man was, he was even more surprised by how gentle he was being. Neither pushed the exchange beyond that, this was a big step, if something happened and it didn't work out; at least one of them would end up dead.

The fact of the matter was that the kiss was sloppy and teary and everything both men wanted from it. Jim craved the feel of Sebastian's breath on his upper lip, the touch of his lips which caressed his own so possessively and the venerability of his mouth being claimed by the sniper. In a similar way Moran adored the way Jim let his emotions show, the way the tears fell onto their lips, it was made all the more sweet when he thought that those tears were for him, it may have lacked basic coordination but it was the most graceful and natural movement either man had ever taken part in. This was the moment Moran was sure of his inner feelings, he knew he should be honest, Jim had opened up so he should as well. They gentle caress ground to a slow stop, Moran drew his lips away and leant his forehead against Jim's "Jim…" he trailed off from a momentary shot of fear but quickly drew a sharp breath before continuing "It doesn't have to change anything, but I think you should know."

"What is it Seb?" he looked so fragile, as if one wrong word would shatter him.

"I'm okay with you not returning it, I know you can't afford to show weakness with your emotions but I think I might love you." In the process of making this confession Moran's eyes had closed tight and his head had sunk to his shoulders, so he was leaning over the smaller man. "Like I said I don't expect you to return anything, I just thought you should know."

"Shut up. You know I wouldn't want you to die."

"I know that if this goes badly one of both of us are dead, I don't mind."

"Sebby you're rambling."

"What do you want to do boss?" the boss came out only half jokingly.

"Firstly," Jim slapped Moran across the face "That is for scaring the ever living shit out of me. Secondly," He grabbed Moran by the shoulders and threw him back so he landed on his back on the couch. The next thing he knew Jim was lying flat against him. He managed to hold in a chuckle at thinking that this was Jim's first attempt at planking. "Thirdly, there are only two things you could do which would have you out of the door: one, cheating on me and two…" there was a painful pause, where Moran believed that he had already done something wrong.

"Jim?"

"Dying before me."

"Jim I'm not going to cheat on you, if that kiss is anything to go by I won't have the need, that and I've wanted this for the last three years, I'd be an idiot to throw it away. And the second I can't promise unless you make one promise for me."

"I don't negotiate Sebby, but seeing that it is you I will allow it this once. What do you want?"

"You to promise that you'll stay out of direct danger."

"Sebastian Moran. I cannot promise…"

"Then try and stay out of their way, where it can be avoided."

"You don't mind me sleeping around then?" The shorter man smirked.

"If anyone tries anything on with you, let's just say I might accidentally leave the safety off."

"Aren't we possessive?" Jim asked while biting Sebastian's collar bone.

"Ah, says you." He gasped as Jim found the sensitive spot on the nape of his neck and bit down particularly hard.

"What are you going to do about it?" he smiled while liking the area he just bit.

"This," he grabbed Jim by the left shoulder and right thigh before flipping them on the sofa so Jim was on the bottom. "Hello there." Moran smiled while unbuttoning Jim's shirt. Well what he really did was tare off each button with his teeth while holding Jim's hands above his head.

Moriarty couldn't help it now; he was a writhing mess under this man's control. He both loved and loathed the sensation of having this man over power him. Moran had just finished ripping Jim's shirt off before the later spoke up "We shouldn't do this." Moran jumped off Jim and crouched beside the sofa.

"I'm sorry…I… shouldn't push you like that." Jim leant heavily on his elbow so he could face his, almost lover.

"I meant on the sofa you idiot of all proportions." Jim grabbed Moran's tie and kissed him with strength and passion whilst drawing blood from his lower lip. Sebastian only smiled into the exchange, whilst he lifted his friend/boss/lover into his arms, so that Jim was straddling him. In that moment both men, though using as much strength to challenge each other, had found a peace they had never felt in the entirety of their lives and it was lavished in blood and bite marks.

also allowing Moran to cup the criminal's arse.