Wow, thanks for your reviews everyone! :) I'm still shocked at how much attention this story has been getting… you people are so nice :D
News (That you can skip and ignore or read): In the last chapter, I mentioned that Jim took a plane to Cardiff… I didn't know it at the time, but I am now aware that Cardiff is actually only a 3-4 hour drive from the England area! So hopefully my times and distances will be better off in upcoming chapters….
In more exciting news: Gwilwillith has graciously offered to brit-pick this story, out of the kindness and graciousness of their big ole heart :) That means less mistakes! Yay!
Well, now that formalities are out of the way…. Here you go!
"I cannot believe that there is nothing to eat!" I (gently) slammed the kitchen cabinet doors shut, and opened the tall white pantry door for the third time, hoping something edible had magically appeared. "Nothing! Nothing!" I shut the pantry door and turned my head to look at Jim, who was slumped in one of the wrought metal chairs that made up the small kitchen table. He had his arms stretched across the glass surface that covered the black metal of the table, his cheek against the glass as he gazed at me with a petulant expression. I crossed the red and white wooden checkered floor and opened the refrigerator. "When was the last time she went shopping?" I groaned as I took in the bare fridge, eyeing the grape jam and bag of potatoes that occupied the produce drawer.
I heard an exasperated sigh coming from the table, and I rolled my eyes as Jim began his spiel yet again. "Lacie…" The drawn out vowels tickled my ears. "I'm soooo hungry…." He moaned.
"I know, I know, Jim…" I shut the fridge and glanced at the comical black cat clock that ticked on the wall above the sink. "You've only mentioned your imminent death six times…" The plastic black and white striped tail ticked out the seconds, waving its paw and causing its green eyes to tick back and forth. It was nearing five, so I figured there would be enough time to get some food into the house before Jim starved. "Alright then…. We're going get to groceries." I placed my hands on my hips and faced a now-pouting Jim.
"Takeout." He demanded from his slumped position, still managing to sound dignified.
"Takeout is faster, but this is better in the long run." I headed back to my bedroom and grabbed my wallet, slipping it and my phone into my jean pocket. "Come on then, the nearest Tesco is only a few blocks away. It won't get dark for a few hours, so we can just walk." I picked up Jim's shoes from their place by the bed, along with the jackets that was packed for Jim and I, and carried it all back to the kitchen. He was still slumped on the table, so I tossed them in his direction, hitting his legs. "Come on Jim! You're acting like your six years old!" He grumbled and began to put on his shoes, and I set his dark blue jacket on the table and slipped my pale green one on.
He stood and made to head to the front door to leave. "No!" I exclaimed, and he turned around. "It's nippy out, wear your jacket." Jim stuck his tongue out at me and went back and slid his jacket on over his grey shirt. "I honestly don't feel like listening to moan if you got sick."
"I don't moan." Jim stated, peering at me with an amused look as I locked the door behind us. "Moaning is what ghosts do…." His mouth spread into a grin. "And you, of course."
"Bad Jim!" I hit him lightly on the arm as we headed down the sidewalk, scolding him. "Naughty, naughty Jim."
"Ah, but you love it, don't you?" He commented as he briskly walked, and I felt like he was only doing so to make me rush after him.
"We're lost. Utterly and hopelessly lost." Jim sounded from behind me, his hands shoved deep into the pockets on his jacket. "I've seen that same cab six times!"
"We're in a city, there are tons of cabs!" I retorted, picking up my pace as we neared a crosswalk. "See? We're at the intersection of Ovington Terrace and Greenwich Road." I turned right, Jim trudging behind me. "That means Pencisely Road is up ahead, and the store is just 'round the corner." Jim was silent as we walked on, and I took the time to absorb the familiar sights and smells of my childhood. I had grown up in this neighborhood, and it looked the same now as it did when I moved away. It wasn't until we entered through the automatic doors of the store that Jim made to speak again.
"What are we buying?" He asked as I claimed a metal shopping cart from the corral.
"The essentials really." I headed towards farthest isle and began to head down it, pausing occasionally to put things that we needed in the cart. "Anything in particular that poor, starving Jim is hungry for?"
"Soup." He stated, walking beside me with his hand resting on the side of the cart.
"Soup it is then." We headed down the next isle, making sure to grab the various things that we wanted. "Why don't you go grab something for breakfast?"
"Fine." He groaned as he took in the surroundings of the isle.
"Stop whining, you big baby!" Jim rolled his eyes at me and started to saunter off. "I'll be getting sandwich things!" I called after him. He waved a hand to acknowledge I had spoken and then disappeared around the end. I continued down the isle and headed into the next section, where I proceeded to collect the necessary items for various types of sandwiches and snacks. I had just picked out a type of jam to get when a cereal box sailed over the head and into the cart. I turn around and found Jim messing with a neat pile of stacked drinks that were on sale. I took in the brightly colored box and looked at him amused. "Golden Nuggets? I haven't had these since I was eight!" I looked at the side of the box. "It's 90% sugar!"
He looked at me with a very serious expression on his normally expressive face. "Are you okay?" Jim started, stalking towards me. I nodded, somewhat confused by his behavior. "Because it seems to me that you don't this… but… they taste yeeee haaa!" His serious demeanor was gone in an instant, replaced a bright smile and clapping hands.
I rolled my eyes at him, huffing my exasperation. "The criminal overlord eats Golden Nuggets and enjoys cuddles. Oh, the irony."
"You're stereotyping me! I thought you were better than that!" Jim explained shocked.
I opened my mouth to reply, but thought better of it. "Let's go then." I settled on, pushing the buggy towards the checkout. The line wasn't too long, so we managed to get out of the store with little no additional whining from Jim, who glowered at the stick-like teenage boy who was slowly checking us out. With one last snarky comment about who was carrying what, we set out for home.
"Getting take-out would have been easier." Jim mentioned as he sat at the kitchen table.
"We'd be hungry tomorrow. This is better in the long run." I stirred the simple canned chicken-noodle soup with a metal stirring spoon.
"We could have take-out tomorrow too."
"Wasn't it you who said just this morning that, and I quote, 'Not all of us can live only on take-out'." I crudely mimicked a horrendous Irish accent.
"I do not sound like that!"
I shrugged. "Close 'nough." I grabbed two red bowls from the cupboard and split the soup between us. Bowls in hand, I sat down at the table, sliding Jim's to him.
We sat in a state of comfortable silence, the only real noise coming from the occasional louder truck rumbling down the road in front of the house, and the clinking of metal spoon against ceramic bowls. "Plans for tomorrow?" Jim asked out of the blue, letting the spoon clank against the sides of the empty bowl as he dropped it.
I shrugged, stirring my own spoon in the small amount of soup left over. "She said she's safe to check out tomorrow…. So unless something pops up, we could stay tomorrow and leave after she's at home, or the next morning." Jim stood and swooped my bowl away from me before depositing in the sink. "You're the one with the schedule, not me."
"Sebastian can run things for another day or two." I nodded, and smiled as Jim kissed the top of my head. "I'm going to bed."
"It's not even nine!" I exclaimed.
"I never said I was going to sleep," He drawled. "I said I was going to bed."
"Oh." I blinked with realization. "Oh." With a suggestive wink, Jim bolted out of the room.
"You trust him?" I asked Jim a little while later, as we rested cozily in the small bed. I knew Jim wasn't asleep; he was wound too tight to be asleep. Jim Moriarty was a limp rag asleep, and a tightly wound spring when awake.
"Hmm?" Jim murmured, opening his eyes, and looking up at the plastic glow in the dark stars on the ceiling to me, as I lay burrowed into the blankets.
"Sebastian, you…. I haven't heard another person speak of someone like that before."
"Speak of him how?" He questioned, seeming to be truly interested.
"Like…" I knew Jim trusted Sebastian, even though I had never seen them truly interact, it shone clear as day the moment Jim mentioned his name. "It's… in your voice, it shines clearer." I tried to explain, ending up with a lame bit that sounded somewhat like horrible poetry.
"They can get to everyone, Lacie. Everyone except Sebastian. I trusted him because I had to, and then because he made it simple to."
"They?"
"'They' being anyone. Anyone and everyone can be tempted and turned against each other. It takes an exceptional bond to create the trust I hold in him."
"I don't understand…." I truly didn't. I trusted many people, many of them strangers I had just met. I trusted Jim, and I couldn't think of anything from his past that I truly knew about him.
"Sebastian used to be a business man, if you can believe it." I tried to imagine the rough looking blonde dressed like the stereotypical businessman, but he just looked wrong. "He's the son of Sir Augustus Moran, and he was raised to take over his father's business empire when he grew too old."
"Sir…" I paused, trying to figure out where I had heard the name before. It hit me suddenly, the memory of my last year of primary school, in my history class. "He was part of the…" I tried to remember the exact name, but I couldn't quite piece it together. "The one with the tubs."
Jim chuckled, and I feel the vibrations as we laid together. "The Order of The Bath. Good try though."
"I was sixteen, you can't expect me to remember everything from my history class!" I exclaimed.
"I certainly did."
"Continue, Jim." I reminded him, rolling my eyes at his gloating.
"Seb went to Eton, and from there went on to Oxford. Surprisingly, he was incredibly straight-laced during that time. I had the chance to meet him for the first time when I snuck onto the campus to attend of a seminar I was interested in. I had been accepted to Oxford, but I turned it down for a more… stimulating environment.
"The seminar was over the current nuclear export control issues, and I just had to go because it was being taught by a professor who hadn't given any sort of lecture in years. This was the only chance to hear it from him directly. So, I bribed a student to let me have his student pass and managed to sneak into the seminar. Sebastian just happened to be the student the I was assigned to sit next too, as I somehow managed to bungle the time and barely made it in before the hall closed…
Jim's Flashback
Jim groaned as he glanced at the expensive timepiece that was set on his wrist. The idiotic student that had told him that the seminar started at 9:30 had been wrong, what he had given him was the time that the doors closed. Huffing exasperatedly, he managed to scoot through the thick doors just as they clicked shut, securing the room for the next two and a half hours. He glanced around the room, noting with irritation that several heads had turned to see who had entered so close to the starting time. Jim hadn't wanted to be noticed, it made it for a more likely scenario that he would be caught. Not that he couldn't wiggle his way out of trouble, just flash a few fancy credentials at the whoever was the head honcho and then slip away… but it would still be a hassle and it would prevent him from being able to listen in on the topic.
A quick survey of the room told him that all the seats in the back were taken, the preferred area that Jim wanted to hide in. Gritting his teeth, he slid into the only open seat, a desk table that was already occupied by a tall blonde haired student. The giant turned and smiled at Jim when he sat down, and Jim was careful not to make eye contact. Eye contact makes a longer lasting impression in the cerebrum, and Jim did not want to be remembered. He set up his notebook, mostly filled with various bits of information, and opened it to a new page. As the seminar began, Jim started to jot down the interesting bits that the man said. A few minutes into the lecture, the blonde student turned to him.
"Can I bum a pencil off you?" He whispered, breaking Jim's concentration. The dark haired boy that was a mix between a teenager and a man passed a pencil without speaking. Gritting his teeth, Jim tried to focus back to the statistics that were being scribbled onto the chalkboard of the room.
"Thanks…" The student said gratefully, flashing Jim a large and overly friendly smile. "I'm Sebastian."
Jim turned a cold gaze onto Sebastian, who just grinned a little wider. "Jim." He spoke with a chilled voice, his attempts to ignore the student failing. Direct face-to-face contact ensured at least short-term memory, added with his accent almost ensured that he would be remembered. A few quick glances about Sebastian told Jim all he needed to know. Rich, good family, good grades, smart, but not smart like Jim. Smart enough to be bored. Normally Jim would refrain from contact with ordinary people, but in this case it would be making the best of a bad situation. And who knows, in a few years Jim might need something from this student. Connections were everything.
"I haven't seen you around here before." Sebastian whispered a bit loudly, and the lecturer turned from the board and gave him a sharp glance. He quickly and quietly tore a sheet of paper out of the plain black notebook, and scribbled on it before sliding it over to Jim.
Are you new?
Visiting for the seminar.Jim scribbled back before passing the note back. He continued to write down notes.
Jim and Sebastian continued to write each other throughout the seminar trading information about where they lived, what they enjoyed, the ordinary information that people discussed for the first time. They only stopped when the lecturer finished, and the students stood to rush from the room. Jim quickly gathered his things, and was quickly swept up into the crowd of students. When the group dispersed, he was already several yards down the hall that would take him to the unattended back entrance to the school.
"Hey! Jim!" The clatter of footsteps on the worn brick pathway alerted Jim to Sebastian's presence, of which he had been trying to avoid. A hand reached out and gripped him on the shoulder, and Jim turned slowly, attempting to control his anger. People did not manhandle him! "You forgot your pencil." Sebastian handed him the plain yellow pencil back, and Jim quickly tucked it into the large pocket of the ordinary backpack that he had purchased for this little 'mission'.
"Thank you." Jim started to turn and leave, but was stopped once more.
"Where're you going?" Sebastian asked him. It was convenient conversation for connections at first, not it was just annoying.
"I'm heading home."
"Not going to hang around for the rest of the day?" Sebastian scuffed one of his plain brown shoes against the brick as Jim nodded. All he wanted was to leave. "S'kay…. You wanna skip then? We can go hang out at Robert's shop. He got a shipment of the new comics." At this point, Jim felt the tiny ball of anger in him build. He had certainly made it clear that he just wanted to leave!
With a dreary sigh, Jim focused the whole of his attention onto Sebastian. "Don't take it personally, but I try not to associate myself ordinary people. In fact, I'd rather just leave and never see your ridiculous grinning face ever again."
Pivoting on his heel, Jim turned away and continued down the path, a smug grin on face. Seconds later, he felt the breath knocked out of him as the larger boy's body collided with his. He was quickly knocked out of the small sight range that the staff had, and into one of the only blind spots on campus. Jim inwardly cursed himself for allowing him to be caught unawares.
"I was trying to be nice to you, you little prick!" Jim's back was pressed against the rougher brick of the building, his bag knocked onto the ground. Sebastian had his arm across his throat, easily lifting him several inches off the ground. Jim wasn't particularly sensitive about his shorter stature, but it was the occasional time like this that he wished he were just a few inches taller. Time to deploy the defenses then.
"Trust me, I may be little, but my prick isn't." Jim winked. Bad idea.
Sebastian narrowed his eyes and brought his face closer to Jim's. "What makes you think that you're better than me? Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Little Augustus's son, obviously. And I don't think I'm better than you, I know I am…." Jim paused for effect. "The true question is if you have any idea who I am."
"I don't care who you are." Bright blue eyes ringed with darkness unwaveringly stared into Jim's. "I could kill you right now, and no one would ever know it was me. So stop with the cheeky attitude, you little shit."
"You wouldn't do that." Jim inwardly grinned, already having deduced the limits of the blonde haired giant. "You have no reason to. All I did was say some choice words, hurt your feelings. If you killed every man who did that to you, you'd be caught rather quickly."
"Then maybe it'll just be you." Sebastian pressed closer, applying more pressure to Jim's neck.
"I have contacts who would hunt you down until the day that they found you…" Jim grinned darkly. "And then they would-"
"Kill me? Lovely thought, but no." Sebastian interrupted.
"They would destroy you. They would crush you, your family. Your father's name, your mother's name. Your family would become a black smudge in record books until the day every single descendant of yours vanished off the face of this god forsaken planet!"
"Someone's a bit dramatic."
"Someone's a bit of a killer." Jim bared his teeth. "Perhaps you should give real thought to that military pamphlet you have there. Put your bloodlust to some use, you brainless grunt."
Sebastian blinked, confused. "How do you know about that?" Jim rolled his eyes; ignoring the scowl Sebastian gave him.
"You were fiddling with the flap of your bag when you were talking about the shop earlier. There are three books inside, two textbooks and a scribbled up copy of Shakespeare's 'Hamlet'. Tucked into the book is a pamphlet, crumpled and wrinkled. If you were giving serious consideration to the military, then you'd take better care of the pamphlet, and not let it wrinkled. It's only still in your bag because you found it again and used it as a bookmark as a last minute substitution."
"That's..." Sebastian dropped his arm away, letting Jim drop. He quickly grabbed his fallen bag and slung it back across his back. He quickly started to walk away." How did you do that?"
Jim looked back over his shoulder and smirked. "I simply looked and used what I saw."
"I didn't see Sebastian again until I was twenty-four. He...he took my advice," A bit of pride leaked into Jim's voice. "Quit school not long after and joined the military. Became a sniper, the best…Colonel Sebastian Moran, as he was commonly known. He was shipped all over the world on missions… five-hour plane rides for an hour-long mission. Good pay, good benefits. But the problem was that he enjoyed his job. He enjoyed having the power of God, choosing between life and death for a person. He never missed, he never waivered, and he never gave pity." He looked down at me and gave me a small smile. "He was booted out, eventually. The military doesn't want snipers who enjoy killing, too much of a chance for bad publicity. They want their snipers cold and heartless in the field, and showing remorse for the public. Sebastian was never like that."
Holy Hogwarts! Another Flashback!
The tall, thin, weaker student that had currently been Sebastian Moran was gone. In his place was a hunter. A tall, broad shouldered man who looked like the kind of man you would cross the street to avoid. At the moment, he was dressed in a casual dark green jacket, a military style that he was used to from his days in service. Beneath the jack was a dark grey shirt advertising a worn logo from a band that had been split up for several years. Dark blue jeans and old sneaker completed the outfit, and unless you made an attempt to view Sebastian's face, you would have completely ignored him.
Short, choppy blonde hair that was similar to the color of wheat rested on his head, and beneath that set a bright pair of eyes, a shining blue that was tinged almost black around the irises. Sebastian had been told many times that he had pretty eyes, but now they were narrowed and his mouth was set in a scowl. A long jagged scar started a few centimeters away from his hairline, and ripped down across his right eye, until it stopped just before his jaw line. If asked about it or anything else, Sebastian would ignore the question and continue on his way. He did not have time for people's questions.
Sebastian had been denied yet another job, at yet another shop. Shop help was the only that was possible for him to work, ever since he had been discharged. No one wanted someone who was booted from the military. With his hands shoved deep into his pockets, he continued the trek towards his ridiculously small apartment. His apartment consisted of one room, one bath, and kitchen/living room that resided in the worst part of town. He had druggies and prostitutes as neighbors. Drug busts happened weekly, as well as gunshots and crimes. It was crap, but it was the only thing he could afford on his quickly shrinking savings. He was still sixteen blocks away when the grey sky above decided to let loose the downpour of rain that it had been holding in since that morning.
Letting loose a string of curses, Sebastian picked up his pace. He'd be soaked to the bone by the time he got home, but it was better than spending the cash on a cab, when he could be spending it on food and other things. He reached a crosswalk and before he could even get halfway across, a shining black car pulled to a stop in front of him, blocking his path. Almost even before it stopped, the back seat door popped open, a nicely dressed man holding the door open from the inside.
"Care for a lift?" A somewhat familiar Irish brogue poured out of the man's mouth, and Sebastian felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and stand on end. Something was wrong.
"No thanks, I'd care to walk." He started to back off and go around, but was quickly stopped by the familiar click of the safety being removed, and he paused.
"The driver's a decent shot, but I've heard you're better." The Irish man said, and patted the seat besides him. "Accepting the ride would be a better option for you in the end."
Knowing that he was caught, Sebastian eased himself into the car, shutting the door behind him. An automatic click told him that the door was locked, leaving him and the man alone in the back seat. A sheet of dark, one-way glass separated the back seat from the front, and Sebastian could see the dark hair of the man who had pulled a gun on him. Turning his sharp eyes back to his abductor, he spoke in a voice that was more a growl than a voice. "What do you want?"
The man examined his perfectly kept nails for a moment, (not a fighter, Sebastian concluded) before looking over to Sebastian. His eyes were dark and large, with an obvious intelligence shining behind them. He grinned. "Heard the military couldn't put up with you anymore."
"Dishonorably discharged." Sebastian corrected, feeling defensive. "Where did you hear that?"
"I have eyes and ears everywhere, Sebby. May I call you Sebby?" Sebastian scowled, and the man ignored him. "Is it true then? You're the best?"
"I was."
The man frowned. "That wasn't the question, Sebby. Are you or are you not the best?"
"I suppose I am."
The man scoffed. "Hear that? He supposes he is."
"I am the best." Sebastian ground out, agitated. This man was getting on his nerves.
"Good. It'd be a disappointment if I went through all this work to pick you up and you weren't." The man smiled. "I'd like to offer you a job."
"Doing?"
"My dear Sebby, what you're good at of course! Killing." The grin grew. "I'm in need of a sniper…. And I deserve the best, so of course I get the best."
"How did you find me?" Sebastian asked. There was the familiar excitement growing in the pit of his stomach that came along with being offered a job, but there was also the firm voice in his head demanding answers. No one could ever accuse Sebastian Moran as not being careful.
"You probably don't remember me, but I kept tabs on you and you flew into my radar a few months ago." The man fiddled with his perfectly knotted tie. "It's always nice to see someone who took my advice and made something of themselves."
The memory flooded back into his mind. He'd forgotten about him, the annoying stuck-up punk who had taunted him so long ago. "Jim Moriarty."
Jim's eyes widened a minuscule amount. If Sebastian hadn't been trained to notice such little details, he would have never noticed. "You remember then, that's good. Saves me the explaining."
Jim Moriarty looked different now, six years later. He was a bit taller, but still not as tall as Sebastian. He was carefully groomed, and acted so casual in his clothes that it was clear that he wore such things every day. The dark, snake-like look in his eyes was still there, shining brightly now. He had several questions he wanted to ask, but Sebastian was a man of little words. He finally chose the more important one. "What's the job?"
"An associate of mine has done some bad things. He's no fun anymore, and I want him gone." Hissed Jim.
"I'll need more than that."
"You'll get more if you agree to the job."
"That's not it?"
Jim smiled and gave him a wink. "I want more than just a mercenary. I want someone who is at my beck and call, day in and day out. I want someone who has no qualms with following orders, and I want someone who has no thoughts of disobedience. Not a brainless grunt however, I need someone smart enough to think for himself, and make the right decisions if they must be made." He stared into Sebastian's eyes. "I'm looking for someone I trust, someone who I can trust to take the right care for my empire when I need them to."
"What does that entail, exactly?"
"Full time work, 24/7/, 365 days a year, unwavering loyalty. You'll get paid much more than you would working for other men, and I'll take care of the guns and other items you might need." Jim thought for a moment. "You may be required to do mundane things as well. Such things may include cooking, cleaning, driving, bodyguard duty. You'll be expected to go to events with me. And of course, you'll be living at my estate. I want my man to be seconds away from me a all times." Jim gave another glance at Sebastian to judge his reaction. Sebastian kept his face neutral, though inside he was screaming, both sides of his mind arguing over what to do. Take it, or leave it?
The car slid to a stop and Sebastian found himself in front of the entry to his complex. "I want an answer now. Yes, and you start immediately. No, and I leave and we never see each other again."
This was the job Sebastian had been dreaming of. He'd have full time sniper work, but at what cost? He'd have to be this prick's bodyguard and maid. But it was full time work at what he was good at! "I accept." Jim smiled broadly, and rather than comforting Sebastian, it reminded him of the shark's grin before it gulped down it's prey.
"Good." Jim slid out of the car, and opened the basic black umbrella that he held in hand, shielding him and his Westwood from rain.
"What are you doing?" Sebastian asked; his brow wrinkled in confusion.
"What part of 'you start immediately' don't you understand, Moran?" Jim started off towards the apartment that he knew to be Sebastian's, thanks to his eyes and ears network.
Sebastian hurried after him, and quickly unlocked the door to the shabby apartment. Jim wrinkled his nose at the messy state it was in as he examined the dingy grey carpet and the threadbare couch. A pathetically small T.V sat on a small table up against the wall, and a coffee table that looked more to be duct-tape than table was in front of the couch. "Get what you have to have. Anything else will be replaced." Jim toed the couch with his foot. "In fact, almost everything will be replaced."
Sebastian headed to the door that led into the bedroom and knocked it open as Jim continued to look about the living room. He grabbed the large suitcase from its place at the bottom of his closet, and began to pick through his things. He had just gotten discharged a few months ago, so he had yet to acquire an amount of possessions. He set the suitcase open on his bed, and sorted through his various clothes. He soon heard the soft clicking of shoes on the hardwood floor and knew that Jim was in the room. This was quickly confirmed at the surprised and excited gasp that he let loose.
"Oh, look at that!" When he turned, Jim was low to the floor, delicately balancing himself on the heels of his shoes. A slender hand reached out and stroked the orange and black fur. "A tiger!" Jim continued his examination of the pelt of the creature, carefully viewing the head and paws. When he turned his head to look at Sebastian, he bore a frown on his face. "No one told me you were a hunter…"
"How do you know I shot it? I coulda just bought it at a flea market."
Jim rolled his eyes. "It's in too good of a condition… Besides, how else would you get such a lovely little scar there?" Jim walked over to him, and traced the scar down his face. Dark eyes met blue ones, and Jim gave a cheeky grin. "Oh, this is wonderful! I've always wanted a pet Tiger…" He clapped his hands together and spun away from him. "I'll send someone over tomorrow to gather it, we don't want your prize to be ruined in the rain!" Sebastian snapped the suitcase shut and reached under his pillow, pulling out a gun. He didn't have the holster on his at the moment, so he set it in the waistband of his pants and resolved to fix that as soon as possible. Only idiots carried guns in their pants, it leads to untimely accidents more often than not.
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pants, Tiger?" Sebastian blinked in surprise as the nickname. He hadn't known that Jim knew guns. Sebastian nodded and grabbed the suitcase. "That's it? One gun?" Jim's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "You are a world famous sniper, and you have one gun? Oh no no, that is not going to work!" Jim started out the door, Sebastian following him. It looked to Sebastian that following Jim would soon become a pattern. "I've got a nice little arsenal at home that you can sort through… pick yourself out some nice toys for my little Tiger's amusement." They headed back to the car and it started heading off in the direction of Jim's home. Thus a wonderful partnership was born.
"Sebastian has been with me ever since. He will continue to stand by me until the end."
"The end?" I asked, curious. Now that I knew the story behind Sebastian, it made more sense on how Jim treated him. In a sort a weird sort of way, Sebastian was the John to Jim's Sherlock.
"Death, dearie."
"Jim, you've got years before that happens. Stop being so negative." Jim went quiet, retreating into his thoughts.
"I suppose you're right." He eventually said, looking at me. He smiled sweetly, and pulled me closer to him. "Let's dismiss all this dreary talk or death and memories. I'm tired."
"Whatever you want, Jim." I allowed myself to be pulled closer to his warmth and felt the wispy fingers of sleep start to claim me.
And... scene! :D Sorry this took so long to get out, I had planned to make this a chapter to help move things along, but it turned into 12 pages and back stories that I didn't expect. It doesn't help that I have a play right now that I'm a lead in, as this is going on Tech Week and we're all working late to finish it. I'm already working on the next chapter, so I hope to have that out within 2 weeks!
Thanks you lovely people!