The gun clicked empty, Jim chuckled and removed the gun from his mouth. Seb felt sick, the image shown to him so many times , first by his own eyes, and then by his head, over and over, a torment , a torture, it was there again. And it battered him, it beat him, it flogged him.
Jim had just replicated it once more for his eyes to see, for his heart to feel. And he had laughed. He had laughed in Seb's face, Seb was just a toy, something to entertain him. Something for the sadist to hurt, to control. He had known this all along, and yet every time he was hurt it came as a shock. Everytime a new pain.
The taller man looked to Jim, his eyes still, his mouth drawn into a straight line, concealing the screams of pain, of hatred willing to be released. Instead, as he could no longer control it, he let a single tear roll down his cheek. He swallowed, and stared at the villain infront of him.
He need not say anything more.
Jim watched the tear fall, just one , but certainly not the first through those troubled eyes. And not the first caused by him either,no . That stung like salt in a fresh wound.
He remembered seeing the first tears he'd caused in Seb's eyes, he'd watched Seb scrape up remenants of a mans head from the roof of Bart's. He'd seen the moment the cold man returned to a boyish state, the moment he stopped, and realised what he was doing ( what he thought he was doing) . Jim had seen him carry, not drag , carry in his arms what was supposed to be his body, to the side of the roof and cover it up, so very carefully, as though he were made of glass.
He'd seen him sit by a pool of blood, place his hand in it, Jim knew Seb had been trying to convince himself what had happened, was happening, was real. He remembered Seb lifting the blood stained hand to infront of his face and let out a single pained sob , tears poured silently then, from the corner of his eyes and he leant into his hands, his face smeared with blood and tears.
That day, was the day James Moriarty had first felt empathy, and the last , until now.
Though he denied it to himself, he knew, it was there, and he had to hide it by hurting Seb, he had to rid himself of it , it couldn't be seen, if ignored, it would leave him.
But to disguise it and hurt Seb , was to hurt himself, a brutal reminder that this man had made him feel by nothing more than a single tear, when before he had felt joy and pleasure from the tortured screams of so many, this man, this tear, could be his downfall, the plight of James Moriarty. It could be his weakness but only if he let it, he winked at Seb. He grinned a false grin.
"Little throwback for you there, oh , oh what is that?" he said cockily, tilting his head to the side with an evil smirk. " What- is that a tear, did I make you cry Seb? Aww." Jim swiped the tear from Seb's cheek, the salt to his skin was acid to his soul.
"Well once again, i'm not dead, and I could really do with some food." Jim put his hands in the pockets of his creased suit trousers and rocked back on his heels. Seb ran a hand over the skin of his shoulder and took in a deep breath. He fumbled in the pockets of his jeans for the flask, and threw it to Jim,who caught it with a raised eyebrow.
"So this-" he popped the cap as he spoke, "This is breakfast to you now? No wonder you've lost weight."
Seb shrugged, the sound of Jim's voice, so casual, so careless, it grated on his heart, like a rusted knife sawing back and too with every painful syllable.
"I ran out."
Jim leant against the work surface near Seb and took a swig from the flask, "What of ?" he questioned.
" Food, money, fucks to give. I don't really want to make small talk right now sir." Seb leant back and closed his eyes, his hands on his face. A position so familiar and painful to Jim, one that reminded him of a strangers blood and Seb's tears.
"Fine then, let's make big talk." Jim said making a dramatic, jazz hand-like gesture.
Seb crossed his arms over his bare chest and rose an eyebrow to Jim.
"You , a soldier, an assassin , a supposed cold blooded killer, who has seen friends and no doubt family killed in brutal ways, cry like a baby when your boss puts a gun in his mouth? Why am I different? Is it an act , is it pretend or were you always this pathetic?" he spat the last word, closer to Seb's face than before.
Hurt him Jim, he thought to himself. Prove you aren't weak. Hurt him, break him. He would allow himself no more than the accidental and half arsed apology of earlier that morning.
His pep talk monologue didn't really help the pain he felt when he saw the hurt in Seb's eyes. He knew why Seb was so hurt. It was the same reason he felt the pain he was feeling now.
Seb bit the inside of his cheek, and then looked to his feet and muttered,
"I'm going getting food, I'll be back later. There's a key under the fridge. "
And without putting on shoes, and simply pulling a zip up jacket on over his torso , he left the flat. The door closing quietly...
YOU ARE READING
Tiger
Fanfiction*post his last vow* Moriarty returns from the dead to his assassin Sebastian Moran. However things don't seem the same... Moriarty competes with his brain, but in his attempt to rid himself of his problems, his feelings, will he just cause torture...
