HERE IT IS! The final chapter in out Watch the World Burn Verse. If you've made it this far, you are quite dedicated and we thank you profusely from the bottom of our hearts (ladycorvidae and myself).

Chapter 10: Trusting, Disbelieving, Clingy

They didn't get out of bed for two days, Seb sleeping more than he had in at least all of the last month put together and waking every time to Jim's face, smirking and beaming at him or pensive as he watched him sleep. Each time he hugged Jim around the middle, holding tight as if he were a child holding onto a parent, terrified that if he let go, the man would vanish. Yes, he was thrilled that Jim was back and safe, and each time they snogged or held each other or made love (and it was definitely making love), the little doubts would still, only to come back full force when they stopped, giving him the worst nightmares of his life. On the third day, Jim got a text.

Glad you're back. Let's have dinner. -IA

He smirked. The Woman. So she had survived this as well. He wasn't surprised, one of the reasons why he liked working with her. He bit his lip, though. He really didn't want to leave Seb, but business was business, and he had to settle back into London again. He gently shook Sebby awake; he wouldn't leave him while he was still asleep.

"Lethimgo-lethimGO!" Seb's eyes snapped open, fixing on the man above him. "You."

"Good morning, dear heart," he murmured, cupping Seb's face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs across the cheekbones. "I got a business call, so I'm going to be out for an hour or two. Don't wait up. If you want to keep sleeping, then keep sleeping."

"Don't leave." He couldn't stop the words as they tumbled out.

"I'm sorry, my love, I must," he said, a bit mournfully. "But only for a little while. Then I'll be back. I swear it."

Seb looked at him hard. "O-okay."

Jim rose and dressed, getting into his usual Westwood, though the suit hung loose on his skeletal frame. "You have my number. Text me if anything happens."

"Will do," Seb replied, pulling the covers back up and trembling slightly. He could still smell Jim under the covers which helped slightly, but it also served to remind him that he was gone again.

"I love you, Tiger," Jim whispered, pressing a kiss to the feathered tufts of blonde hair that stuck out from under the blankets. Now: off to meet The Woman.

oOoOo

Adler was looking well when they met at the restaurant. She was clearly finding it no problem to continue on with her work.

"Mr. Moriarty, how nice to see you alive and well."

"Miss Adler, the feeling is mutual," he drawled. "Been keeping yourself busy, I take it? Being dead is hard work, after all."

"Oh yes, but I'm managing it just fine. Still misbehaving in fact," she simpered, gesturing to the empty chair across from her. Jim sneered and sat. "Of course. Like I'd expect anything less from a professional dominatrix."

She smirked. "Welcome back, Jim," she purred, waving the waiter over. "I'll have a dirty martini, and Jim here will have..." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Scotch. On the rocks," he said.

"Right away, sir, madam."

"How boring," Jim said as he watched the waiter walk away; he had already figured out the man via is fingernails and cufflinks.

"I see you haven't changed in the slightest. Well, you could do with a bit of fattening up. Maybe even some...dinner."

Jim wrinkled his nose. "Spare me your seductions, Adler. You know I'm spoken for," he said, ice creeping into his voice.

"Oooh, still very touchy. You did used to love to have your way with me when the mood struck."

"Yes, well, a lot has changed in three years. You know that as well as I do."

"Indeed it has. I've been keeping track of the rumors. You've been very busy for a dead man."

"Have to keep my empire running smoothly. A king never sleeps, you know," he said, waving his hand in a regal fashion, sniggering.

The waiter brought their drinks before taking their dinner orders: salad for Irene and steak for Jim. The dominatrix watched Jim carefully over her drink. "Your subordinate attempted to find me while you were gone."

"Oh?" So the Tiger had gone looking for the Woman. Intriguing.

"He never found me of course, but my sources kept me well informed. He was drunk and stinking of Scotch is what they told me, calling for me down an alley before collapsing in a puddle in the gutter, didn't return to his flat for several days. Seemed to think I could help find you or at least tell him if you were really gone."

Jim nearly flinched. Nearly. He couldn't show any weakness in front of her; she'd eat him alive. "Really," he said, retaining his poise, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Such an adorable little pet you have. Sickeningly loyal."

"Well, as I told our dear Sherlock, I should get me a live-in one. And I did. And it's worked out wonderfully," he said, taking care not to bristle at how she was talking about Seb.

She snorted. "An alcohol-soaked muscleman? Even you can do better."

"Oh, Adler. Remember how I said I'd turn you into shoes? That still stands. So keep. Your Mouth. Shut." he hissed, finally unable to bear it any longer.

"Very well," she said, smirking over her glass as the waiter brought their food. "I suppose I can. If you insist."

"Oh, but I do."

Still smirking, Irene began to eat, watching the criminal closely over her food. "So, you survived. Blanks and blood packs I would assume? Oh, but of course, only the simplest to make it all seem so complex. "

Jim merely nodded. He was beginning to wonder exactly why he liked working with her now; she was decidedly getting on his nerves today.

"I have something I think you will like, Jim."

"Oh? And what would you have that could possibly interest me?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Pictures, information, all safe with me of course, but I am in need of some protection."

He rolled his eyes. This game. Again. "And why should I care?"

"Because every single one has to do with your sniper."

Jim's gaze got very, very cold, very quickly. "You'll be wanting to think of your next words carefully, Adler," he said, his voice soft.

"And why is that? Don't forget, Jim, that you came to the place of my choosing, not yours." Her gaze grew cold.

"Fine. What do you need?" he asked. The sooner he got her out of his hair and the information and pictures, the better.

"Simple. I need to disappear."

He imagined him smiling and assenting, right before pulling out a small caliber pistol and making her 'disappear' permanently with a bullet lodged in her skull. "For how long and to where?"

"India, I think. Somewhere out of Europe and certainly not America."

"I hear Madagascar is lovely this time of year," he said sarcastically.

"Don't mock me, Jim. Would you like to see this? It's very...ah...flattering." Pressing a few buttons, Irene selected a picture and held it up for the criminal to see.

Jim scowled as she showed him a picture of Seb, clearly worse for the drink, getting sick in a gutter. "I will help you, then you will give me all of the pictures and information pertaining to him. The originals, the copies, everything." he said.

"You know I don't make copies, sweetie," she said, flicking through to another one from the bar. Another picture, Seb getting tossed out of the bar and landing on his face in the snow. "Right. So, India it is, then. I'll have the papers made up, the passport and the fake ID. If you want funding, you're on your own," he said shortly.

"Thanks ever so much darling," Irene simpered, leaving cash on the table as she rose. "Ta."

"Ah, ah, ah, my dear Miss Adler..." he said as she rose. "Pictures and info first."

"I'll have it sent to you," she replied coolly, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. "Now, run along."

"Miss Adler," he said as he turned to go, bristling from her treatment of him, "I would advise being careful in India. Tigers tend to abound there and other beasts of a less-than-savory nature. Now, off you trot, m'dear...wouldn't want you to forget your impressive collection in your haste to pack."

"If you're threatening me, Jim, I really would advise against it. You may have spent three years bringing your empire back under your thumb, but I have the power in this situation. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Me? Threaten you? Perish the thought. I was merely stating my concern," he said as he walked off. Of course he was threatening her; with any luck, the silly bint would get stepped on by an elephant and cease to be a disturbance to him.

"You might not want to leave your man alone for long. He's quite unstable," she called after him.

Jim casually kept walking and seemed, for all intents and purposes, to ignore her, but what she had said rankled. He took out his phone and nearly dropped it in his shock. He had fifty missed calls and eighty-nine text messages. All from Seb.

Miss you-SM

Nightmare-SM

You aren't gone. You aren't gone. -SM

Please, just send me something. -SM

I dreamt it all-SM

Fuck me-SM

Just, I can't do this-SM

Jim, please. -SM

Something? Anything?-SM

You're ringing out-SM

Of course you are. It's all a dream-SM

Jim, please-SM

Now I just sound needy-SM

Wouldn't want a needy Sniper, now would you?-SM

Of course not, you're dead-SM

Broke you word-SM

You lied to me-SM

I can't sleep-SM

It smells like you here-SM

Why does it smell like you? SM

Magpie.../please/-SM

Jim closed his eyes and put his phone away. He all but ran to his car and snarled at the driver to go as fast as he could without them getting caught. He was home at the flat in a matter of minutes, bursting through the door and making his way to the bedroom. "Seb? Sebby!" he called as soon as he set foot in the flat. Maybe he would come out if he called...

Seb was curled up underneath the blankets, cradling his gun to his chest. He heard the voice but chose to ignore it. "Another bad dream..."

Jim found his sniper curled up under the covers. He yanked them away. "Seb, I'm home," he said.

Seb started, the gun pointed at Jim faster than he could breathe. Jim held out his hands and took a step back. "Now now, Tiger...it's a sin to kill a songbird," he said coolly.

Seb's hands were shaking, his eyes wide. "Jim," he breathed, still holding tight to the gun but lowering it slightly.

"Hiii," he said, in his sarcastic sing-song voice, wiggling his fingers in a wave. "Told you I'd be out for a few hours, remember?"

"N-not really." The sniper felt his eyes burn and he felt weak, stupid. Setting the gun down, he curled back up under the covers, trying to hide.

"Oooh, poor Sebby...come to Daddy," he said, sitting on the bed and prodding gently at the lump that was his lover.

"N-no...you'll disappear again."

"If you touch me, you'll know it's real."

"No, I won't."

"Oh? And why is that?" Jim said, leaning down closer.

"Because I'm dreaming. And I can always feel you in the dream. It's when I'm awake that I can't."

Jim scowled. "Hold that thought," he said. He went to the kitchen and filled a bucket that was under the sink with cold water. Then he lugged it back into the room and dumped it unceremoniously over the blanket-covered sniper.

"See? You're awake."

Seb shrieked, struggling out of the soaking bedclothes. "THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?" he roared.

"Hi. Told you I'm real," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Seb was shaking as he looked at Jim warily. "That hasn't happened before."

"No shit. You're awake, Tiger. We spent the last 2 days in bed, and I had business that I had to attend to," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste as he remembered his meeting with Adler. Seb started to reach out for Jim but pulled his hand back. "I really thought I was dreaming...or dead."

"Well, you're neither," said Jim, reaching out and taking Seb's hand, clasping it tightly. The sniper nearly cried out at Jim's touch; it didn't hurt per se, but some part of him felt like he'd been burned.

"C'mon now...let's get you out of those things. Nothing looks so pathetic as a wet cat," Jim said, smirking a little.

"Not pathetic," Seb mumbled, shedding his clothes and following Jim. Jim was going to say something about the fifty missed calls and eighty-nine texts, but wisely decided to hold his tongue.

"Sorry about your phone...guess you got those then. Well, yeah, dream would get them-"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got them. Here, have a look-see," he said, tossing his phone to the sniper, who nearly dropped it. Seb fumbled the mobile, eyes widening as he scrolled through the messages. He sank to the floor, resting against their bed. "Wake up...wake up..." he whispered, curling up again.

Jim was rapidly losing his patience. "Dammit, Seb, you are awake! What do I have to do to prove it to you that I'm here and that you're awake and neither of us are dead?" he shouted, exasperated.

"YOU THINK I KNOW?" the sniper yelled back, tears finally breaking from his eyes. "IF I KNEW, I'D FUCKING DO IT!"

He snaked out a hand and slapped him, backhanded, across the face, his ring catching Seb's lip and tearing the flesh. "THERE. Does that prove it? Is that enough?" Jim asked, anger starting to churn inside him. Seb lifted his fingers to his bleeding lip, anger coursing through him as he launched himself at Jim, punching him hard in the face.

Seb managed to land one hit on him before he ducked and wove away, trying to staunch the blood that now poured from his nose. The sniper threw himself at the smaller man, attempting to tackle him and got a mouthful of rug and dust for his effort

"Oh, Tiger, you've gotten slow," Jim taunted as he watched Seb get a face full of carpet. He aimed a well-placed kick at Seb's ribs, not hitting him too hard. After all, he wanted to wake up, so he would wake him up, goddammit.

Wheezing, Seb crawled on all fours until he was at Jim's feet before grabbing the man's ankles and yanking him to the floor. Jim's breath left him as his back hit the floor. Growling, he raised his foot again and kicked hard, catching the sniper in the shoulder before rolling away and righting himself.

"OI! GET BACK HERE!" Seb threw himself at Jim, catching his foot and pulling him back off balance. Jim stumbled but caught himself, wrenching his ankle out of Seb's grasp and bringing his heel down on the sniper's wrist. Seb howled, freezing where he was as his wrist burned with pain.

"NOW do you see that you're awake, you great stupid fuck?" Jim roared, panting, blood still dripping from his nose.

Seb glared at him through hot tears, his breathing coming in gasps. "No," he hissed defiantly. Believing this was real just meant that he had gone through three years of hell, three years of being a failure to the man standing above him, and he didn't want to face that. Jim knelt and grabbed the sniper's chin with one hand, gripping it cruelly tight. He could see the doubt and the pain and the...failure, the defeat in his lover's eyes. "This. Is. Real. And you did not fail me," he hissed.

"I c-couldn't protect you...I promised..."

"You did protect me. You still protect me. I'm here, Tiger. I'm here."

"You were dead. I saw it! I failed...you wanted the best and I'm not-"

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN! I fooled you. I had to. And it damn near killed me to. I wanted to bring you in on the plan, but I couldn't. I spent three years crawling the underbelly of Europe to get the empire strong enough, to make my way back to you. And you are the best. You are still the best. You shall always be the best. The best sniper, the best bodyguard, the best lover, the best of me."

The shocked silence didn't last long as Seb collapsed in tears, in hot anger that he'd bottled up for three very long years. His lip was bleeding, his wrist and ribs hurt, and here was his boss, crouching by his stupid, thick skull. He didn't deserve the man, couldn't fathom why he'd come back. This man who kept saying that drunkard Sebastian Moran was the best. "I sp-spent most of m-my time drunk...or murdering people."

"Back to the days before I found you, huh," Jim said quietly, sitting next to his lover and hauling him into his lap, stroking his fingers through his hair the way he used to. "Well, I'm back, and we have work to catch up on."

Seb trembled, the hands in his hair melting the tension from his body. He'd forgotten he was naked until now. "Yeah...old habits and all...haven't cleaned the place in ages and broke most of your things...the mirror too."

"Things are replaceable. You are not. And since you broke the mirror, you found the note. I figured you would do that. Break things, I mean."

"You wanted me to...that note was like a knife all over again, Boss."

"I'm..." he took a breath and let it out. The words were still so hard to say. "I'm sorry, my love."

Seb pressed closer, soaking Jim's suit with salty tears. "I'm broken..." he whispered, fingers clutching as expensive fabric.

"And I will try to fix you," he murmured into his lover's hair, pressing a kiss to his scalp. (1)

Seb gave a weak, very wet snort. "Coldplay? Really?"

"Oh shut it. I wasn't trying to quote song lyrics at you. This isn't a bad 80's film," Jim quipped with no real heat.

"No, if it were, you'd have a lawn mower and a boom box," Seb replied, giggling hysterically to himself.

Jim snorted. "Do I really look that trite? I'd be much more...impressive."

"Like what?"

"Fireworks and severed hands," he said, smirking. "Still holding a boom-box."

The sniper almost smiled. "How am I gonna be able to work for you if I can't even function with you out of my sight?"

"Well, I could always take you with me. 'Take your pet to work day', every day," he sniggered.

"That'd get boring for you."

"Oh, I don't know... maybe. Maybe not. What, should I record my voice into something to help you rest easier?"

Seb stared up at him. It seemed so childish but...it might help. "You'd-you'd do that?" There was no way...

Jim made a bit of a face. "Well, I was joking, but if it'll help...then for you, yes, I will."

Seb threw his arms around Jim's middle, squeezing tight and kissing his abdomen through his suit. Jim wheezed as Seb crushed the air out of him. "Okay. Let me go work on it," he said hoarsely. "And you should go put on some clothes. I need to ah...stem the faucet," he said, indicating to his still-bleeding nose.

"Why hasn't that clotted yet?" Seb's brow furrowed, releasing Jim and getting up slowly.

"Pre-existing medical condition, the only thing my mother gave me aside from my name and my damnably short stature," he said, scowling.

Seb scrambled to his dresser, yanking out the first black outfit he found and tugging it on, grabbing shoes before gently gathering Jim into his arms. "What can I do? How can I help? Do you need a doctor?"

"Put me down, you git! I'll be fine, it'll just take a while," Jim scolded lightly. Seb really didn't want to.

"Fine. If you won't put me down, then at least go sit on the couch. There you can cradle me to your heart's content..."

"What do you need to help the blood though?"

"Just get me a cloth. It'll subside on its own. And I take coagulants on a regular basis. Hemophilia is a tricky disease."

Grabbing a cloth from the closet, Seb carried Jim to the remains of the den, broken DVDs and a shattered flat screen looming at them on the mostly intact sofa, the back gouged deeply in several places from a very sharp knife. Jim blinked. "Holy Shit. Why leave the sofa mostly intact, though?"

"Bad memories." Calling Jim a monster, nearly losing him forever, drunken stupors.

"Ah. I see. Well, as soon as this stops, we're cleaning. Excuse me; you're cleaning. I have more work to do. Don't worry, I'm not leaving the flat for it," Jim said, reassuring his lover as he saw a look of panic ignite in the sniper's eyes.

"I'm cleaning?"

"Yes. You are cleaning."

"The place is a fucking disaster-"

"And you need to pick up the pieces, as it were. Call it a meditative action."

"What about the shit that's broken beyond repair? God, I'm gonna get asthma from all the dust."

"There are masks in the bathroom under the sink. The broken things we can get more of. After all, money is no object."

Seb thought about all the liquor he'd bought over the last few years. "You might wanna check that. I've been pretty liberal with the cash."

"Silly Tiger; do you think that I gave you access to my accounts? Your spending money may be almost gone, but I've been careful with mine."

Seb hugged him closer, rocking him as the stupid Disney lullaby floated through his head, making him cry again. "Such a f-fucking cryb-baby," he grumbled.

"Shhhh, sh-sh-sh-sh...it's all right," Jim crooned, running his fingers through the blonde hair of his better half once more. Seb looked down at him, at the cloth slowly turning red at his nose. "How'd you not b-bleed out f-from your month with M-Mycroft?"

"Very carefully hidden. And, well, abroad, I wasn't able to take my medicine for a while," Jim mumbled. Seb held him to his chest, kissing the smaller man's forehead. "You're really lucky."

Jim grinned crookedly. "Luck of the Devil, me," he said.

"Mmmm, my Devil."

This made him laugh. "Always."

"Always."

And there you have it. A Boss and his Sniper reunited at last. R&R if you please, and feel free to look up my other works. My AO3 invite should be here ANY DAY at which time EVERYTHING will move over to it, and anything new will be posted there. Thank you so much for reading!