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Sebastian stayed away from Jim for a while. It was the longest time they had gone without being in contact since Sebastian was first employed. Even when he went on foreign assignments, the sniper periodically received calls from Moriarty asking him about the mission's progress and needy calls from Jim telling him he was missed.

As strange as it was to be away from Jim, Sebastian couldn't shake the feeling that he had done the right thing in leaving. If he hadn't been assassinated yet, Jim couldn't be too mad. Although it wouldn't stop Jim from finding him, Sebastian elected to stay in hotels during his hiatus. He felt too exposed in his flat.

Finally, the out-call-only phone in Seb's current hotel room started ringing. Patching through a cheap, unreachable phone was exactly the kind of stunt Jim would use to impress his sniper. He picked up the plastic device hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.

Though no greeting was issued, the voice on the other end spoke suddenly. "Moran, your skills are required." The sound was familiar, stern; a dangerous man allowing himself to sound dangerous. And yet, Sebastian wasn't sure he was ready to crawl back to master.

"You are still under my employ."

Sebastian stayed silent. For a moment, the line was quiet. Then Moriarty sighed. It sounded like a defeated deflation.

"Seb, please."

Sebastian struggled to keep his silence.

"I need you to come to the flat."

Sebastian swallowed his resolve. "That would be your place?"

Jim's voice had a note of relief. "Yes. My flat. I have a job for you."

"This isn't about –" Seb stopped. He wasn't sure how to phrase his disdain for Jim's most recent play thing without sounding stupid and petty. He wanted nothing to do with Sherlock fucking Holmes.

"No, no. It's not him. I'm done with him completely."

Alarm bells rang in Sebastian's mind. There was no way Jim was over this obsession. But Sebastian was finished trying to stay away. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I've already sent you a car."

XxX

Sebastian stared out of the town car's tinted window. London flashed by, street after street. Sebastian liked to play a game by examining building placements and deciding the most efficient for reaching high death tallies.

While counting hypothetical deaths, the ex-colonel's instincts blared suddenly. The car was going the wrong direction. Seb lunged forward quickly, procuring a blade from his belt to the driver's throat.

"Hey, buddy. Take it easy," the cabbie croaked causally with the spirit of someone who had been held up more than once before. He motioned up to his ear. "You see? I'm being instructed by Mr. Moriarty."

Indeed, there was a flesh-colored earpiece with a wire curling to the man's collar. Sebastian didn't relax his blade.

"He's got a camera in here. He's saying, 'Sorry, Tiger. S'pose plans changed. Put away your toy.' Got it?"

Sebastian settled back and stowed the knife in its sheath.

XxX

The climb to the walk-up apartment wasn't awful. The instructions given by the driver said 12D, and Sebastian appreciated a flat on a high floor.

The door to the flat was locked, but a tacky, animal-print welcome mat made a less than subtle hiding place for a key. 12D was dark. Every light was off. There was, however, a white glow coming from the bedroom. Sebastian stalked toward the light warily.

Once he was at the door, the sniper saw the source of the illumination. There was a laptop open to an instant messaging program. It was resting on the edge of the king-sized bed and being glared at by Sebastian's employer.

Jim looked paler than usual. There was something about the way his crumpled suit hung on him that connoted a severe lack of food. His eyes were closed, but there were dark circles under them. He almost looked asleep, except for the twitches running through him. His fingers tapped tuneless patterns against themselves, his knees jerked, and his head lolled slightly.

"Jim?" Sebastian asked nervously.

Jim's eyes snapped open. The black hollows under them seemed even starker.

"Jesus. You look awful."

Jim scowled. "I haven't been sleeping," he bit.

"For how long?"

"I don't know. When was the last time I saw you?"

"A month."

"That long."

Sebastian hadn't realized the man's codependence. "Shit, Boss. What about food?"

"To stave off unconsciousness, yes."

Sebastian was suddenly angry. Angry at Jim for being such a fucking child. Angry at himself for leaving a child alone. Angry at Sherlock Holmes for making him leave.

"I'm taking you home now, Jim."

The sickly man scrambled to the edge of the bed, finding his footing with just enough time to save himself from the floor. He stood shakily. "No. We can't leave yet. I have –" He swooped and almost fell but held up a hand to keep his assassin away. He steadied himself and continued talking. "Gravity is most unpleasant. Anyway, I have a job for you."

Seb couldn't believe the psychopath. How could he leave Jim now?

"Don't worry," assured the mind reader. "The rifle is already set up in the other room. The client is in the adjacent building. We are terminating our contract."

Sebastian considered this. To concede would be to forgive. "Alright," he finally agreed. "Just tell me when."

Jim's arms were around him before he knew what was happening. Seb returned the grasp. He could feel every vertebrae on Jim's spine. He felt so terribly and wonderfully fragile.

Jim pulled away and flopped back onto the bed. He was on his stomach with his hands poised on the laptop's keyboard his his feet in the air like a teen girl talking to her crush. From his now-baggy suit pockets, Jim procured a set of ear buds. One of the transmitters went in his ear and the jack went into the computer. At the touch of a button, a Chinese woman appeared above a chat box. Sebastian guessed she had something to do with one of Jim's smuggling rings.

Jim turned his head to face Sebastian. "She's your target," he noted casually. "Don't shoot until I say so, Moran. Clear?"

"Sir."

"Off you go then."

Sebastian trekked to the other room and took up to scope set up there. His favorite gun was back at his flat, but this one would do; A simple L115A3 rifle with a laser sight and a suppressor.

The ex-colonel found his mark in seconds, but left the sight off, not wanting to give away the game.

"You have the go ahead," came an order from the bedroom.

Sebastian turned on the laser, took a second to center the dot (though it was very near the middle of the woman's forehead), and pulled the trigger.

He returned to the bedroom with a shell casing in his pocket. Jim was sitting on the bed, running his hands through his hair in a vague motion of excitement. His eyes were wide and staring at the black square on the screen.

"That was beautiful, Sebbie," he marveled. "I got to watch you decimate her face with one shot. It's a shame so much blood got on the camera. I would like to have seen the aftermath."

"Glad you enjoyed it." Sebastian was aiming for sarcastic but couldn't help his grin. It was the first time Jim had really seemed like himself.

The smaller man hopped off the bed, took one step, and started falling. Sebastian rushed forward and caught the sleep-deprived and malnourished man. Jim's eyes fluttered.

"Steady?" Sebastian asked.

Jim smiled weakly. He grabbed Sebastian's face and pulled him down for a chaste kiss.

"Boss?" Sebastian murmured against closed lips.

"Mm?"

"If you haven't eaten in days, why can I taste chocolate?"

"I –" Sebastian interrupted him by holding Jim at arm's length. He examined his boss carefully, taking in as many details as he could. The deep circles under Jim's eyes seemed to indicate a lack of sleep. But – Sebastian drew a finger across one. The black smudged off.

"Is this makeup?"

Jim's sheepish look of innocence held for another second then melted to an impish pride. "Your powers of observation are getting out of control, darling. Can't get anything by you." Any trace of a weak and fragile being had vanished. Jim procured a handkerchief and wiped the rest of the black marks away.

Sebastian felt his rage boil. "So what, you starved yourself, made yourself look sick, lied about not sleeping? Why? As some sort of apology? What made you think that would work?"

Jim looked at Sebastian like it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "I wanted you to stay."

Sebastian's mind went blank.

"I knew you were mad. I thought you might leave again if you thought I didn't need you."

"If you didn't need me I'd be dead."

Jim pondered this, "I guess that's true, actually. The whole 'can't live without you' thing isn't really for me. But I don't want to end our enterprise yet."

Sebastian examined his boss. With the makeup off, he looked decidedly healthier, but his weight was too low for the sniper's comfort. "You need to eat."

"Go get us takeaway then."

"You'll eat?"

"If you will."

"And then back to your place?"

"No, I thought we'd stay here tonight. Neutral ground." Jim paused. "And really, this is just a fantastic bed. Very sturdy, you know?"

Sebastian was calling the Chinese restaurant and out the door before Jim finished his sentence.


Love y'all. And I love Jim and Seb. And they love me. We're all gonna run away and have a fabulous gay wedding.

See you later!