The shot to the head broke Jim. That was the only way Sebastian Moran would be able to explain it. His boss, his lover, his whole world was broken. The doctors had referred to it as a miracle, the bullets direction had somehow caused brain damage but left no physical problems except headaches. A miracle. Sebastian thought it was somehow the opposite. If God existed, and who was Sebastian to say either way, then he would think it had happened as a punishment. Death would not be a punishment to a self-proclaimed king who had put a gun in his mouth, ready to rule hell, but surviving? Being forced to live a life as one of the dull ordinary people he had loved to hate and loved playing with? It was a punishment fit for one James Moriarty. And perhaps it was a punishment for Sebastian as well. Perhaps God was looking down with a devilish smirk, (because was there really much difference between the two?) reminding them that Jim may have thought he was a king, but he was lord of them all and he was in control of the lot.
A claustrophobic blanket of smoke covered the room as Sebastian lit another cigarette. Jim had hated him smoking and he had kicked the habit after one or more butts had been put out on his skin because Sebastian didn't believe his threats. Aside from the odd cigarette after a particularly hard job, Sebastian hadn't smoked in years. Until now. In the week since Jim had been taken from him, Sebastian had got through almost four packets. He let out a breath and watched the smoke circle in front of him and as it cleared he focused on Jimmy.
Sebastian thought of them as different. The James Moriarty from before, the real one, was his Jim. He was smart, both in mind and in dress. If it wasn't a designer label he didn't want it, if you weren't at least relatively smart, he wasn't interested. He was loud and controlling, he had that smirk that could terrify even though twice his side. This replacement, this shell – Jimmy – was quiet, he was clingy and needy. Jim would be ashamed if he was aware of it. Jimmy wore plain comfortable clothing, he cried and stuttered a lot and it infuriated Sebastian.
Right now, Jimmy was curled up on the sofa across the room from where Sebastian was leaning against the wall. Jimmy's eyes were on the TV but he seemed to just be staring. Sebastian was sure if he turned the TV off, Jimmy wouldn't even blink. Everything about the room was wrong. The angle he was slouching, the distractedness. Jim would never slouch for fear of creasing the Westwood or Armani or whatever it was he was wearing. He would never let his guard drop, he was always on edge, always ready for anything. Sebastian knew he could creep up on Jimmy and scared the hell out of him but what was the point? If he succeed, Jim would've got angry and it would've been hilarious but Jimmy would probably just scream and then cry. Pathetic.
Sebastian pushed himself up away from the wall, after he noticed something. "I want my dog tags back." He told him.
Jimmy jumped, somewhat startled, at the voice. He looked at Sebastian and then down at his chest with a frown. He looked so devastated as he reached down to grip the chain. Jim had had the dog tags on when he went onto the rooftop and Jimmy hadn't taken them off since getting home. Sebastian knew he had looked at them, seen his name. He guessed they made him feel safe, Jimmy did always try to cling to Sebastian after all.
"I'm s-sorry. I should have asked," Jimmy said, taking a step towards Sebastian as he pulled them off. The shake in his voice cut through Sebastian. Jim would've scoffed and taunted him, and told him to come and get them if he wanted them. Jim would have laughed in his fast and hid and eventually they would've fought for them. Jimmy was walking up to hand them over. This wasn't right, Sebastian clenched a fist at his side to keep himself calm.
"It's fine, Jimmy," Sebastian told him through gritted teeth. It wasn't fine. It was all Sebastian could do not to smack him, to slam him against the wall and hit him until Jim returned to him but he couldn't. He would never seriously hurt Jim, oh pain and violence was fun and games for them but never seriously, and for now that meant not hurting Jimmy.
Jimmy held the chain as the dog tags up, clearly wanting to place them around Sebastian's neck. He wasn't tall enough to reach and was too nervous to ask. Sebastian took a step back, shaking his head.
"What's wrong?" Jimmy asked, dropping the chain onto one palm and instead offered that out to Sebastian. Sebastian found himself not wanting them back. He didn't want Jimmy to have them, but he didn't want Jim to be without them. He had given them to him.
"Just… keep them." Sebastian told him and hurried out of the room.