Sir, Boss Jim, Sorry for disappearing. I know I should've told you before I left, but I knew how badly you would take it and in all honest I don't think I could've cope with the last thing I saw of you being you angry at me. That's pathetic and sentimental I know but I'm not going to apologise for that. I'm going to miss you and I know what you're going to say, if I'm going to miss you I shouldn't have gone, but I needed to. I don't know if I'm going to be able to cope with this, kitten. I'm scared shitless and I've only just arrived. Still, I'm sure you don't want to hear about your best sniper being a coward. Please write back, Jimmy, I need to keep hearing from you to get through this.
Yours always,
Sebastian.
MorOn,
Why the fuck are you in Afghanistan you stupid little twat? How am I supposed to be able to keep an eye on you and make sure your in one piece if you're that far away, idiot? Ugh. Don't get shot. Don't get hurt. I'll fucking kill you if you come back injured, is that clear? God was one dishonourable discharge not enough for you? And people think I'm the crazy one. They don't see what I have to put up with. Idiot.
Stay safe
Of course you're mine, idiot.
Jim.
Jimmy,
It was good to hear from you. I'm not going to bore you with my reasoning behind coming back here. You don't want to hear it and it's stupid really. But I'm here because I need to be here. That's all you need to know. Now, tell me, how are you? Are you looking after yourself? Remember you're supposed to eat three times a day and sleep at least 6 hours a night. Don't let yourself get ill. If I have to stay safe you have to look after yourself, deal? How's London?
Seb.
'Bastian,
You lost the right to make a deal with me when you buggered off to Afghanistan without telling me beforehand. But fine, I'll try to eat. You're only going to keep on at me if I don't. Sleeping is happening. Sort of. And that's the best you're going to get. London is fine. Under my control of course, it will always be. Are you still in one piece, Sebastian? Tell me about it, tell me everything and anything, let me know what's going on there.
Jim.
Jim,
It's hard here. Everything about it is hard. And I'll admit I'm spending the majority of my time being terrified of what's going to happen next. The worst thing is that there is no control. When I'm in London working I can control what I do. I'm in charge of the deaths, I know what's going on. Here there's no structure, there's no right and wrong, there's no… there's nothing. It's just a mess. Everything seems a mess. I can't control anything and I hate that. I'm so fucking scared. It's ridiculous, I swear, Jim, you're letters are the only thing getting me through this, stupid as that sounds.
Seb.
Darling,
Come home. You clearly aren't coping well being there. Whatever reason you feel like you need to be there – and believe me I understand the reason – isn't this important. Trust me, it may feel like it is. I know you feel like you need to prove this to yourself, but you don't. You'll be no less amazing if you come home from the war now. Come back to London. I need you back in your job, and you know I love you, I miss you. Come back.
Jimmy.
Jim,
God knows I'd be on the next plane to England if it was that easy, but it's not. The only way I can get home is if I get discharged – which'll put me right back into jail – or injured. I love you, too, darling. And I miss you, I miss you so much.
Sebby.
Seb,
Get injured then. No ignore that. That was stupid, ignore that don't get injured. Don't do anything stupid, just come home as soon as you can. Get leave and then I can help you disappear.
Jimmy.
[No reply]
Sebastian,
Why didn't you answer? What's wrong? I know it can take a while for letters to get to you and then get back, but normally it's only a few weeks, this has been almost two months. Not that I'm worried or anything, just want to know you're safe and in one piece
Jim.
[No reply]
Seb,
This is getting ridiculous. I admit it, I'm worried, why the fuck haven't you wrote?
Jim.
Dear Mr Moriarty,
I am writing to inform you that Sebastian Moran has been injured in action. He had been seen by doctors here and will be transferred to St Bartholomew's Hospital in London. As his next of kin, you had to be informed. He will arrive at St Bartholomew's around midday on Wednesday. His injuries are not serious.
Mr Jefferies.
It was Wednesday Morning when Jim received that letter. Damn, Sebastian. He had said don't get injured. He didn't care is this Mr Jefferies said it wasn't serious, he wouldn't believe it until he saw Sebastian safely in one piece. He got into his car, for once driving himself, and drove quickly to the hospital. It was only 11:30 when Jim got there, but he was willing to wait. Well, he had no choice but to wait. Every few minutes he demanded to know if Sebastian had arrived yet. As soon as the answer became yes, Jim was directed to the ward Sebastian was on and all but ran there.
He was all prepared to cross his arms and look unimpressed and mock having a go at him, until he actually saw Sebastian. He seemed to be covered in bandages. Maybe that was an overstatement but there were 3 or 4 bandages covering what looked like bullet wounds. Sebastian himself looked so small and tired and hurt.
"Sebby?" Jim said, gently.
A smile broke through the pained expression on Sebastian's face, "Well, I've never been so happy to hear your voice before," he commented, quietly.
Jim moved over to the bed, taking a seat beside him. "I said I wanted you back in one piece."
"Had to get back," Sebastian whispered.
"You weren't supposed to get yourself hurt to do so," Jim insisted. He took his hand gently and Sebastian squeezed it, gratefully.
"Worked didn't it," Sebastian pointed out.
Jim sighed. "Idiot," he muttered. "Oh well, I guess it means you have to do as I say while I put you back together."
Sebastian flashed him a grin, "I'll never do as you say, boss, and you know it."