A/N

This piece is a bit odd to me, not going to lie.
Consider it an experiment

I wanted to analyze how Sebastian may have felt
when he'd first met Jim. I imagine him to have
been happy in his skin, his work, and his religion, before
Moriarty came in to the picture.

We begin our story after the turning point of a passionate
debate between the two. The whole thing is written as if
Sebastian is reflecting on it at a later point in time.

Comments and reviews extremely welcome.


"I can't argue anymore, Jim" I said with a tone of surrender. The ground beneath my knees was cracked and dusty, littered with pebbles and trash all around. Looking back, it really did seem like the most beautifully accurate portrayal of my soul during that moment in time – broken, unkempt, in need of attention.

"Do you honestly even know what an argument is? So far you've said nothing which is argumentative in nature. I've got a good feeling that brain of yours hasn't a clue. Really, do buy yourself a dictionary and study up if you plan to work for me." The slick-looking devil of a man loomed before my figure. He was scrawny and small, but his stature did nothing to reduce his intense presence. He kept a sense of mild amusement about him as he spoke down to me, though I could tell he was tired of my stories and speeches.

My heart was heavy. All the concepts I'd kept close throughout life - about good and bad, night and day, heaven and hell - were shaken. I had no clue which way was up or down anymore, and it was all because of this man. As he would say, my incoherency was best reflected when I tried to express myself verbally. I had no idea what thoughts to articulate around him. They all ended up a jumbled mess which the man took no hesitation to strike down, tearing my soul apart piece by piece.

As usual, it took no time for my emotion to transform my sleep-deprived eyes into teary and broken ones. I may be a soldier, but I'd never been well with confrontation. Nor had I been shaken so mentally and emotionally in my life. While I concentrated on the intensifying lump in my throat, Jim's invariable attention on me brought the slightest smile to my face. One of the strangest combinations of happiness and worry bubbled in the pit of my stomach. Oh, how ordinary of you, Jim would say. His convincingly evil and uncaring behavior was more than enough to show how cruel the man behind the suit truly was.

And then he presented his opinions to me. That life wasn't as good as I'd made it; that I'd settled myself in a small nest of lies and monotony which would blanket me until the day I died. I would believe myself to be happy, but never know what true happiness tasted like. I would think I'd made an impact in the world, when in reality I passed through without making any sort of mark at all.

I was taught by my parents to firmly believe against his ways and beliefs of cynicism and cruelty, as well as the lack of religious acceptance ever-so present within him. 'I'm quite extraordinary, and so are my plans' he had said at one point. 'I don't need to rely on a God to serve me when I've got the brains and wit to serve myself to whatever it is I want. Money. Power. Love. Possessions. I could have anything, and no amount of prayer would be able to change that.' He wasn't wrong; my mind justified his statement without hesitation, no matter how much I tried to fight it off. It was becoming an evident possibility that God may not be on our side after all. My heart cried like a poor baby – 'a sad, delusional soul,' Jim would say. So I presented him my opinion, too.

I grew passionately furious in no time at all; I showed dejection and expressed bitterness appropriately. My speech was full of stinging remarks that were slapped down like pesky flies by the overpowering presence. I made arguments that would easily make any other man back down and see level with me again. Yet he merely thought the display was cute – not only cute, but 'really very adorable.' My mouth went agape yet again as he continued to look down on me. The devil in him was overwhelming and awe-inspiring. Nothing would sway this man; he was strength in its purest form. And I needed desperately to learn how to harness a bit of that strength for myself.

So I smiled up to him. And he spoke. I listened, interjecting my thoughts now and then, receiving a verbal pat on the head for anything he found impressive. He thought I was intriguing, quite an endearing compliment from the incredible man. I reminded him that my belief in God remained unchanged, though he knew he'd shaken me enough to reduce my beliefs to their foundation. And I declared the conversation was a complete miracle for me, a long-needed epiphany which was enriching my being. The devil in him laughed out loud at such a statement. I would have winced, but the angel in me had already surrendered to this devil. There's no angel in him. There couldn't be any in me, either.

He talked to me as if he were holding a hand of eleven-month-old, teaching him to walk for the first time. I simply allowed myself to trust him and tightened the grip on his fatherly hand. He smiled down to me, though I knew such an expression didn't come without reason. He touched my brain, he grazed my thoughts, he bargained with my emotions. He played with them all until they finally fell apart, revealing the scared little boy I was. I'd expected he'd approach me with that menacing look across his face; yet when I saw him stride towards me, he bore an expression of sanctuary. He had broken me down to build me up again, to mold me into the form he saw fit. That was the moment my heart changed – the moment this sweet devil had saved me from an ordinary life and mind.

He saw the shift in my body language and facial expression; it was probably amusing to him, watching my emotional transformation. "Are you falling for me?" Jim asked. I couldn't tell if he were joking or not, his tone was so tender and loving. Accompanied by the smile on his face, I again felt as if the world were spinning.

"No." I said meekly, though in my heart I knew I already loved him more deeply than any other person before him. Jim was my savior. He simply gave me a nod and pat on the shoulder before turning to leave.

"Keep your phone on, my dear. I'll be in touch," he said without looking back to me. I simply remained on my knees, staring after him, wondering what my deal with the devil would yield in the future.