Is é an deireadh anseo

Part 2.5: Oh, Death.

''Oh Death, Oh Death.

My name is Death and the end is here...'' (Oh Death - Jen Titus)

Nevermind the internal conflict, he was running. Outside, to the next building. Straight to Sam who seemed shocked, by all means but not, apparently by Sebastian but by James. ''Sir! I thought you had to get safe!''

''Shut up, Sam! Where is he?!''

''Ohhhh, You're here for-'' Smart move, Sam. To anger and already very clearly angry James Moriarty who reacted, instantly, by grabbing the mans neck in a tight first. ''Nevermind then...''

''Good choice. Where?!''

''Up stairs... can I breath now?''

Too late, James was already full-speed running, Sam following him like a lost and fairly worried puppy as Jim reached Sebastian, not that he could see him for the crowd of employees around him, certainly helping his nerves. Shoving employees out of the way he found himself looking at the man he loved, floored by two bullets. ''Oh shit...''

It was worse than he had first thought. Two wounds. Both bleeding. One on his kneecap which was worrying but disregarded when the other was seen. Abdomen. Deep. Blood. Most likely other fluids too. That would be the one that would kill him. Thank God for the two, three employees who were going full medic on the assassin, pressure on both the wounds, bandages coming out of a small first aid kit that really had nothing that could help in it. ''Oh God.... Sebastian.'' James muttered, kneeling beside him, grabbing one of Seb's hands, ignoring the look of the bystander employees.

''Boss...'' Came a timid, frail voice from a not so usually timid or frail man. ''People will think..''

Oh God, look at him. In this state and still worried about the business. ''Shut up, Basher. They're only employees, if they say a word, they all die.'' He said, barely managing a small smile, the words doomed to lighten the mood. Sebastian too only managed a brief smile before pain fell upon him again and he didn't even realize he'd started gripping James' hand. He turned his head away, gritted teeth, scrunched up eyes hidden from sight as he fought the battle with his wounds. James didn't, couldn't object. He was too pre-occupied with the employee dealing with the wound to the knee. He was moderately relieved when he heard that an ambulance had been called, even though he could see it would never be quick enough. He could see Seb losing blood, far too quickly. And the man was in pain. Well, at least Jim knew how to fix that. Dropping Seb's hand he reached for the first aid kit and raided through it, grabbing a vial of morphine and a syringe. Naturally, he knew exactly how much Sebastian would need and he was quick to draw the right amount, ''Sebby... Here... this might help.'' He said, showing the man the needle. The assassin nodded, just, the pain still strong as James slipped the needle past Seb's skin and pressed down on the syringe slowly, removing it and pressing the wound for just a moment before he intertwined his fingers with Sebastian's again, aware of the man getting weaker. This was not good. He couldn't lose Basher, it would be too much for the man to handle. The idea of not knowing if he was safe, even though he had far more snipers, he only trusted one. He only trusted his Sebastian. Could he really, truly function without that gorgeous man in his life? Was that really possible? Could he wake up and make a cup of coffee without thinking of Sebastian, walk into the bathroom and not expect to see him there? Would the torment ever end without him?

Well, that idea was cut off abruptly by the very man himself, the very same assassin who had been quietly managing his pain, eyes locked onto Jimmy's, trying to convey a world of feelings that he couldn't word because of the pain. ''I love ya, Jimmy...'' The assassin mumbled suddenly.

''Yeah? I love you t- wait... no!'' And why was the criminal mastermind panicking? Well, Sebastian's eyelids had begun to flicker, almost uncontrollably as he tried to fight the inevitable.

''No! No, no, no! Don't you dare close your eyes on me!! Tiger... I..'' Alas, there was little Jim's desperate please could do. The man's eyes were already shut. This couldn't be happening. Where was the damned ambulance?

''Basher.. God, please.. please look at me.. don't... Jesus... don't leave me.'' of the night was Jim Moriarty - mastermind criminal - kneeling next to a dying man, who should just be any old employee and barely holding back desperate sobs. Hell, James had even gone back to praying at this point.

Because, if the criminal, mastermind or not, knew only one thing, it was this: Moran was more special, more perfect, more amazing, than anyone else in the whole world and he would never, never let the man go.

''No... Jesus, Sebby... please.''

There was still no response, nothing, even as the sound of sirens grew louder, closer. Sam had to intervene. James still couldn't be seen by anyone who had cameras and sometimes ambulance crew did. ''Sir..''

''Sam, shut it!''

''No, sir. This is important. You've got to go.. sir, don't make me force you.''

''Sam... I... Shit... fine.''

And again, he was going, up, walking, running to his car to try and get away as sirens drew closer. Sam knew better than to follow all the way, leaving him once he saw the car which was parked a few streets away down a dark alleyway, where James stumbled towards it, fumbled with his keys and practically crawled into the car, trying to calm himself down.

It didn't work. He could still smell it. That stench. The one he usually loved. That sickly, sweet stench of rich, heavy blood. The sirens had drawn closer, close enough to be helping the man now. Close enough that they would be going soon. Jim couldn't handle this. Not even being able to see the love of his damned life as he was hopefully saved. He couldn't even help him. Those tears, the emotion was fighting him again. It was all too much. So, so much. He couldn't handle it..

The sound of sirens and the sickly sweet stench of blood... his blood, filled the air. Trapped with no way out. He couldn't breath. And as sirens faded, and he was left alone, James Moriarty - master criminal - began to sob.

This was his fault. All his fault.