He had known for months this day would come, but had he ever thought to be prepared for the sight of Jim's dead body? Had he expected to just walk away from it all? Collect his money, his brand new passport and be gone? It would never be that easy. In fact, it would be too easy in Jim's eyes. That was why he had ordered Sebastian to dispose of his body afterwards. The heartless bastard. He had known from the beginning what Sebastian's opinion was about his 'plans' and even after his death, he would make sure it would pain Sebastian beyond his wits.
Nightmares had kept him awake as he kept seeing Jim. Dead. But every time he had woken up and turned his head to the right, he had watched Jim's sleeping form.
But he wouldn't after today. After today, his bed would be empty.
The roof of St. Bart's was deserted, except for Jim's lifeless body. It lay sprawled on the ground, a long puddle of blood streaming from his scalp, the gun limply in his left hand. He had that manic smile on his face, which made Sebastian feel oddly satisfied. At least he had died with a smile on his face.
But he would never smile again. Everything hurt too much for that. Putting tension on his facial muscles took too much effort now, and most of all, it pained him. Not even the curling the corner of his lip seemed to work now. His entire body ached.
He sat down on the nearest air ventilation shaft, elbows on his knees, fingers knotted together, staring at the body. He realised he didn't have all the time in the world; the police would come to investigate soon, and both Jim and the blood would have to be removed before that. But he couldn't find the will in his mind or strength in his muscles to move him. So Sebastian took his time to evaluate what had happened, letting his mind get used to the fact he would never be bossed around by Jim Moriarty again.
But, he realised, he would give the world to have Jim boss him around again. It was now he noticed how incomplete he felt. Jim had given him everything when he had nothing; new clothes to wear, a house to live in, a gun to operate. Jim had picked him up from the gutter and given him a new life. And involuntarily, he had given Sebastian a reason to live.
That reason was gone now.
He eyed the gun in Jim's hand for a moment, but quickly averted his gaze with disgust. The idea of joining Jim in the hereafter sounded appealing, but it was not how he was. Sentiment made a man weak he had learnt, and he wouldn't allow Jim to drag him down into hell with him.
He just had to – keep calm and carry on.
So he got up, approached the body and picked up the gun. He put the safety back on and stuffed it in his pocket. He then crouched down besides the body and picked it up with an arm underneath his knees, one around his back, and carried him off downstairs, where a van stood waiting for him.