It wasn't until four days later that Jim finally returned to headquarters. He wore a hat to hide his bandaged head as he quickly went up to his quarters, and made a note that he needed his own private entrance created. He sat at his desk for a few moments, considering the room, before he texted Harrison.

I assume if Moran were dead I would have been informed by now. -JM

She was in the living room, working. She'd turned off Sebastian's alarm so he would sleep later - he needed all the extra sleep he could get. She was a little surprised to be the one getting the text, even still.

Yes, sir. He's going to be fine. Although I should warn you that right after the surgery he was on so much medication that he told me about your situation. No one else is aware. LH

He let out a frustrated sigh at that. Moran would pay for the mistake, but once he was better.

Is he currently capable of coming to my office? - JM

She paused.

If I got him dressed, maybe. His arms are a little useless right now, sir. Do you want me to wake him up? LH

Already she was regretting telling the boss that Sebastian had let it slip, but she felt like if she could take over just a little of Sebastian's responsibility right now, he'd get better sooner.

Yes. I need to speak with him as soon as possible. - JM

He set his phone aside and stared at the far wall, trying to access the parts of his mind which were covered in fog.

Lorna set her phone on the coffee table and got up, went into the bedroom, and carefully touched his shoulder. Less because he was hurt and more because he could hurt her. "Sebastian. Jim is back. Also I kinda told him I know about his surgery. Sorry."

He came back into awareness slowly, groggily. His body ached, but he'd been cutting back on the pain killers in favor of sanity.

"It's fine," he grunted, shifting onto his back with a wince. "I'll deal with it. Does he want to see me?"

"Yeah. I would have let you sleep, otherwise," she murmured, stepping away to get him some clothes. "There's a pot of coffee in the kitchen that's still hot."

"Okay," he said, sitting up and gritting his teeth slightly as his ribs protested, but keeping steady for the most part as he stood. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she said, turning back with his clothes. "You want help with these?"

He sighed, but nodded just a little. Buttons especially were tricky. "That would be appreciated, thanks." They'd gotten it down to a routine, and within ten minutes he was downing the last of the cup of coffee. "Alright..." He stood. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," she sighed, sitting back on the sofa. He was going to need it.

He headed for the elevator, taking his time but keeping his pace even and his posture tall and steady. The elevator arrived more quickly than usual and he was on Jim's floor in less than a minute, heading for the office and after a pause to consider, knocking lightly with his foot.

"Come in," Jim said. The knock wasn't awful, which was a good sign. He still hurt a little, but it was like they'd cut out a snake that had been constricting his brain. Now it was just a little foggy, still recovering.

He fumbled with the door handle a bit and finally got open, pushing inside and closing it behind him, walking over to stand in front of Jim's desk. "Good to have you back, sir."

"It's good to be back," he agreed, reaching up to itch at his head and stopping halfway with a sigh. No itching. "I feel better. Much better. Not 100%, but not like I'm dying."

"Excellent," he said with a nod. "I'm glad to hear it, sir. I was concerned."

He nodded, falling silent for a moment. He felt slow, sluggish, and he wasn't used to it. "...As was I. For your health. There are no satisfactory replacements for you, Moran. See to it you don't die."

Victory.

He raised an eyebrow. "There are plenty of suitable replacements for me, sir. Probably at least a dozen in Europe. Administrative and combat skills in combination are not all too rare a commodity."

He made an annoyed sound. "I rather not have to deal with the loss. Look, I'm telling you not to die, you lunk. Don't make this more difficult for me than it already is."

"Yes, it is rather bothersome to have someone you depend on almost die, isn't it?" he asked. His voice had just a hint of an edge.

He just looked at Moran for a good long minute. Then he heaved a sigh, tapped his fingers on the table. "...I... see your point. That was well played, Moran. Fine. You win. I'll take her off the remaining jobs."

"Thank you, sir," he said, not daring to let a hint of a smile play onto his face. "I promise to try not to get myself killed. Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

"No. I'm going to start looking through the jobs as best I can right now - and take Harrison off them, so don't do anything even more idiotic - but I don't need your help for that. Go do whatever you do when you heal."

"Understood, sir. Let me know if you need anything. I'd salute, but..." He nodded to his hands, before heading to the door and making his way out. It was only once it was solidly closed behind him that he allowed himself a smirk of victory. He had done it. He had successfully played James fucking Moriarty, Moriarty knew it, and he had lived.

He walked back down to the apartment and scanned in, pushing open the door. "You're off the jobs."

Lorna dropped her laptop onto the rug with a thump, and leaned back into the couch and made an enormously relieved sound. "Thank god. I really thought I was going to die. Or worse, I don't know, I know there's some shitty things out there."

He laughed, walking over and sitting down carefully. "You should have seen his face when he figured out what I did..."

"He must have been less pissed than I was if he didn't kill you," she snorted, though she was grinning. She was so relieved. So relieved. "Also, hey, good news: I'm not pregnant!"

He raised an eyebrow, then grinned, "Brilliant. Fucking brilliant. It's about time we had a good day, huh?" he asked, smirking. "Everyone's alive and no one's pissed."

She chuckled, propping her bare feet up on the table, just feeling actually good for the first time in days. "God, what a relief. Finally. Finally I'm not looking for doom right around the corner."

He smiled, shifting to lean his head against her shoulder, since hugging her was pretty much not an option at the moment. "Everything is heading back to normal."

She lifted an arm to wrap around his shoulders, careful not to squeeze him. "As normal as things are. Well, if he's really taking me off those jobs, I'm going to have a bit of a break."

"And you're hopefully not going to die. That would be good," he said with a sigh of content. He'd succeeded. Somehow his idiotic plan had succeeded.

She nodded, letting out a long breath. "Hopefully not. I've been waiting for a good time to tell you, but.. DeWitt is in London. I wasn't sure, after all of that, that he would stay here. But I have somebody tracking him. We can move in whenever we want."

He glanced over at her, taking in her expression, and nodded. "Alright. I'll run it by Jim. I have no doubt he'll be eager to get the smug bastard dealt with. Do you want to deal with him personally?"

"Yes, I would," she said, a little more quietly. The closure would be good for her, for her mental state.

It was almost nine weeks before he got the last cast off. Underneath his arm was pink and dry and irritated, with a long, thin scar up the forearm from the surgery. But it was off, and despite being a bit weak, it had full range of motion again. He held it up victoriously when he returned to the flat. "Goodbye robot," he snorted, wiggling his fingers in Harrison's direction.

"I bet that feels good," she grinned, looking up from where she was sewing in an inside pocket to one of her dresses. She looked a lot healthier - the circles under her eyes were gone, she'd gained back what she'd lost in their imprisonment, and her month-long vacation had done wonders for her disposition.

"Like heaven. I can fucking scratch when I'm itchy," he snorted, rubbing at a spot on his wrist to emphasize. "It's practically atrophied, but that won't take too long to fix."

"Better late than never," she shrugged, setting the dress to the side and putting her needle back into its much safer container.

"About that," he said, picking up a pencil and starting to flick it slowly through his fingers, trying to work on a bit of dexterity. "Garret just confirmed, we've got DeWitt's location again."

She froze a little, then nodded. "Can they bring him in? I want that bastard gone as soon as possible."

He nodded. "We can. I'll go with them myself, make sure everything's square, alright? Then he'll be yours to do with as you please."

"Good," she nodded, drumming her fingers on her thigh, already thinking of things to do, wondering how much pain she could inflict on him before he died.

He nodded, walking over to his room to get dressed. "We'll go pick him up now, then."

"I'll be here, getting just a little bit drunk."

It was surprisingly easy to bring Dewitt in. What was difficult was bringing him alive, not because he struggled, but because the instant Moran saw him he wanted to put a bullet down his throat. As it was he took a few punches with his stronger arm before they locked him up, then went to get Harrison.

Lorna entered the room they were keeping him in with a stone-cold expression. She hadn't decided yet what she was going to do to him, but it was going to be painful, and he would not live to see outside these walls again. She couldn't let him live. It would eat at her until the day she died. She stared at him for a good three minutes before she walked forward and removed his gag, dropping it in his lap. "I'm going to want to hear you scream. Which ear is your favorite? I'll leave that one where it is, just because I'm in a good mood."

He looked a little surprised to see her, but then laughed. "You? Yeah right. You don't like getting your hands bloody, little bird. I remember. You almost passed out the first time you shot up. Listen, why don't you just relax a little and undo my trousers, and I'll let you ride my cock, okay?"

She backhanded him, hard, because her hands were shaking and he couldn't tell if she used them to beat the shit out of him. Before he could recover from the hit she grabbed his hair, yanked his head to the side, and pulled the knife she had in her back pocket. A second later, and his ear was in her hand. She dropped that in his lap too, as he screamed. "You say anything that vile to me again, we'll see how bloody I really like it."

He managed to catch his breath a moment later, eyes wide and confused as he looked up at her. "What the fuck?! " he asked roughly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" There was a hint of fear in his eyes, but it was clear that he had no concept that he wasn't in control.

"I'm proving you wrong. You told me I wouldn't do it. I did. What are you going to do about it? You can't do anything," she snarled, and punched him in the face just because she couldn't help herself, because he'd forced himself on her, because she remembered it so clearly, like she was still there, helpless, unable to do anything but live it. "I'm going to tear you limb from limb. I'm going to kill you."

Dewitt seemed like he was starting to understand the extent of the shit he was in, and paled.

"I still vote you cut off his dick and feed it to him, but that's just me," Moran said from where he was leaning in the doorway. He wasn't going to interfere, just make sure Harrison was alright. There were mistakes that could be made in torture. Not many, but when one was emotionally involved they became more likely. He didn't want her getting hurt.

"I was thinking more along the lines of suffocating him with it, as the big finale. That or pouring sulfuric acid down his throat, I don't know, I haven't really decided yet," she replied without turning, bending to give DeWitt a cold smile. "I'll probably do the former. I think it would be more fitting, don't you? You're looking rather pale, there. You doing okay? Shit, sorry, I forgot to tell you. I don't give a fuck."

"Beautiful. Very poetic," Moran said, smirking as DeWitt lost another shade.

"You can't... I... I have rights!" he floundered. "You can't just hold me here!"

She lost her cool. She stabbed the knife into his leg and grabbed his face with her other hand, nails biting into his cheeks. " I had rights," she spat, twisting the knife in his leg viciously. "And youviolated them. If you speak another word to me I will mute you myself."

He screamed in agony as the blade twisted in him, pulling against his restraints, voice cracking. "Stop! Stop! Please!" he begged, her warnings lost in the pain.

She wrenched the knife from his leg, forced his jaw open, and cut out his tongue, all in the space of three seconds. From that point on, the only thing that could leave his mouth were screams.

She spent six uninterrupted hours in that room, slowing removing bits of him, piece by piece, staunching the bleeding when she thought it looked like he would die before she wanted him to. When she was done, most of the left side of his face was gone, along with his left foot, and three fingers on his right hand. She'd taken a grater to his chest. And in the end, his did suffocate on his own dick. When his heart stopped beating - she'd checked for a pulse - she turned to Moran in the doorway, where he'd been for most of the time, barring food and bathroom breaks. She tried wiping some of the blood off her face, and only ended up smearing it across her cheek. She sighed. "Alright. I'm done. Tell cleanup I'm sorry, will you?"

He walked forward, gently prying the knife out of her hand and setting it aside, looking her over. "How do you feel?" he asked, voice neutral.

She shrugged a little, though she was looking a little hazy. "I don't know. Okay, I guess. I thought I would feel better, honestly. M' just kinda... empty."

He nodded just a little. "Okay. You got it solidly in your brain-space that he's dead, yeah?" he confirmed.

She glanced back at DeWitt's mutilated corpse, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I do."

He nodded just a little, putting a hand on her back and guiding her out. "Let's go get you a hot shower and something to eat, okay?"

"Yeah," she agreed, letting him nudge her out of the room. She was going to sleep well tonight.

He nodded to cleanup to enter as they passed, and got her into the elevator and up to their flat- his flat- oh what the hell. He left her in the bathroom to clean up, and started making something for them both to eat.