Chapter I | Put the Gun in My Mouth and Pull the Trigger
"I feel so alive. Put the gun it my mouth, it taste so bitter. I feel so alive."
"No Jesus Christ" – Seether
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Sherlock started to laugh from where he was and Jim turned scowling at him. "What? What is it?! What did I miss?!"
He couldn't believe this.
How did he miss something?!
There was no way.
No way!
Sherlock jumped off the ledge back off the roof and strode over to him, still chuckling. "You're not going to do it? So the killers can be called off. There's a recall code or a word or a number." He stated obviously, Jim was a little shocked, trying to think around this. "I don't have to die." He said looking at him and smirking. "If I've got you." He finished in a sing song tone. "Oh!" Jim started to laugh a little at him. "You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?" He asked as Sherlock circled around him again and then stopped in front looking at him. "Yes, so do you."
The Irishman felt a smirk come to his face as he thought about it. "Sherlock, your big brother and all the king's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to." He looked over at him as the other brunette circled again. "Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember?" He got close to his face now, staring right in his dark, calm eyes. "I am you, prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you." James stared at him stoically. "No. You talk big. No, you're ordinary. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels." He said shaking his head a little at him. "I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them." The shorter man stared at him for a long moment then answered. "No… you're not." He blinked a few times as everything came together in his head.
Ohhh, he knew what he had to do now.
"I see." He said nodding to him. "You're not ordinary, no. You're me." He let out a soft laugh as he stared up at Sherlock. "You're me." He stated again, going into a high voice. "Thank you," He said moving his hand up like he wanted to touch his shoulder but didn't. "Sherlock Holmes," He held out his hand and looked down as Sherlock did the same, ever so slowly taking his hand. "Thank you. Bless you." He whispered getting a little emotional, before looking down again as he continued. "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out." He said looking away and then back up at him.
"Well, good luck with that."
He stated looking into his eyes and giving him a wicked smile. He opened his mouth and reached into the coat, tugging out a gun. He placed the pistol in his mouth and without a second thought, pulled the trigger.
"No!"
Black.
Darkness.
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Lights were flashing above him. Moving so fast Jim couldn't figure out where the hell he was or what was really going on.
And it hurt.
A lot.
How am I alive?
God, I just want to be dead so the pain goes away.
He was in more pain now, then he had ever been in all of his life. He opened his mouth and tried to say something. But the nurse shushed him. "Don't try to talk, just relax now." She said in a somewhat panicked tone. What the hell was going on? Why was he here? Again he tried. "S-Se-…" The nurse flashed him a hard look and shook her head. "Shh!" She said in a harsh tone and Jim whimpered.
But I need him.
Sebby.
Sebastian.
Furrowing his dark brows, the Irishman tried one more time. "S-Seb." He finally got out and the nurse who had been telling him to be quiet looked down at him, tilting her head to the side a little. "Is that your name sir?" James swallowed hard and shook his head once, making him cry out and grip the sheet under him.
"Get Seb!"
The nurses were all surprised at the scream and started send out someone looking for the person that Jim screamed for before his body gave in and he passed out. The doctor's dragged him away to surgery.
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After tossing his rifle in a safe place, Sebastian ran into Bart's searching for Jim. He had to find him. Although, he had watched everything. Saw what he did. Putting the gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger.
Christ, he's probably dead.
He didn't know where to go. Not really. Not until he heard the nurses talking about a man who shot himself and looking for someone named 'Seb' or 'Sebastian'. His heart sank a little as he moved over to the woman who was talking. "Wait, um, does he have short black hair, brown eyes and an Irish accent?" The woman stopped and turned to the scarred blond and blinked lightly. "Are you Seb?" He nodded quickly to her. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. "Y-Yes, I'm Sebastian… I-Is he okay? Is he still alive?" He almost begged, he could feel his vocal cords tighten and the pitch of his voice do up. He was desperate to know. "He's… in surgery, right now. We need to know his name, and age. Any health problems." He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to try and talk before stopping.
John.
He stared at the other man for a long moment before looking back at the nurse. "James Brooks, he's thirty-three, no health problems that I know…" He said quickly making up a name not to give him away. The blond woman quickly scribble it down on the paper. She frowned a little and chewed her lip. "He's the same age as the young man who jumped. We're thinking he was up there trying to stop him and he shot him." Sebastian looked up and bit his lip a little harder, tasting blood in it. "Where was he shot?" He was almost afraid to ask but he needed to know. She looked up and opened her mouth like she was going to stay something before the other nurse caught her attention. The marred blond growled a little and slammed his fist on the desk, cracking the wood and making the nurses all jump.
Silence.
"Where was he shot?" He asked looking down at the nurse with bright blue eyes. He was trying as hard as he could to stay calm but it really wasn't working at the moment. He needed to smoke. Although he did feel better after slamming his fist on the desk. "The head." She said finally. "Frankly, he should be dead. With the way it went. But he's in surgery, so don't get your hopes up Mister…?" She looked up and it took him a moment to realize she was waiting for his name. "Oh… Moran. Sebastian Moran." She nodded and jotted the name down. "Why don't you sit in that waiting room, take a nap or something. I'll come get you when he's awake." The blond man nodded and headed for the room. He sat on the couch and stared blankly at the telly. He knew exactly what happened. Sherlock had figured a way out, and Jim got desperate. He wanted to win this little game.
Win.
Well win he bloody well did.
That was if he even lived.
Seb eventually gave in and passed out on the couch in the waiting room. He didn't know how long it had been when the nurse came in and gently nudged him. The ex-solider jerked and grabbed her wrist so hard he almost broke it. When she let out a cry he pulled back and muttered an apology. "What is it?" He asked rubbing his eyes a little. "Wait, Jim? Is he-… " He looked up worried as she rubbed her wrist and shook her head. "They got the bullet out and he's still alive. We won't know the damage until he wakes up, but he's seemed to have slipped into a coma. I'm sorry." She muttered and he furrowed his brows and shook his head. "Can I see him?" He asked looking up. She gave a nod of approval and waved her had to have him follow her.
Sitting down in the chair, he ignored the nurse as she quietly shut the door. He sat in a chair and looked at the machines that Jim was all hooked up to. The steady beep of the heart monitor, the noise the breathing machine made as it pumped air in and out of his lungs. The blond furrowed his brow and watched for a long moment before taking Jim's hand. "You idiot. Just had to win that stupid game of your's. Risk your life to prove you're clever. You're stupid. Damn it Jim, you're so stupid I could kill you myself…" He frowned and squeezed his hand, pressing the other on against his forehead. "Just wake up. You have to wake up. We'll fix this. Start over. Do things different. No more fucking around with that damned doppelganger, Sherlock. No more of this… shite." He sighed and leaned back in his chair holding onto his hand as he watched his face, listening to the machines. There was no movement. Not yet. There was a bandage wrapped tightly around his head as he laid there. Sebastian knew he wouldn't wake up until that wound was healed. If he even woke up. What if he was so messed up from him. Can't function. Can't even take care of himself. The what was the point to all of this?
Oh shut up, Seb.
Have a little faith.
Faith.
There was really asking something.
He stayed where he was. He was determined to see Jim out of this. He'd keep him like this for a year. At the most. If he didn't wake up he was gone, that was it. He would find something else. But right now, he was just going to sit in the dark room, listening to the machines as they beeped and made other noises. Listen as they kept Jim alive while he healed.
He stayed there.
Every day for hours, only leaving once in a while to eat, go to the loo or shower. Not like he had anything else.
Just Jim.
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Six months passed and there was still nothing.
Nothing at all.
The bandage was gone. The wound healed, but they didn't know the damage. Sleeping in the chair rather than the cot near the window. Some nights he did this. Sat there and held his hand all night hoping for any sign of life to come through him.
Jim's hand twitched in Sebastian's, squeezing lightly before his eyes flew open and he gasped, choking on the tube in his throat. Weak body, filled with panic as he tried to get his hands up to yank it out. Sebastian's blue eyes opened when he felt the movement and he stood, hitting the call button as he moved to Jim to gently take the tube out so he could breathe. "Jim?! Jim!" He called taking his face in hands and rubbing is thumb over his fuzzy cheek. "Jim… you woke up…" He muttered as confused brown eyes darted across his familiar face.
Blond hair. Blue eyes. Scars. Fuzzier than before.
But what was his name?
"Who are you?" Jim asked in a hoarse voice as he tried to get the neglected vocal cords to work. The blond frowned and ran his thumb over his cheek. "You don't remember me?" The Irishman shook his head. "I know you… but not your name." He nodded to him. "I'm Sebastian. Sebastian Moran. Seb." He explained as the door opened and the nurses all came filing in to check Jim, scooting the other man away from the bed. Jim blinked and smiled a little at the name.
"Sebby."