Chapter 4: Sebastian

July, 2005.

"Hi."
"Hi." Sebastian looked up. He was sitting on a bench in the park. It was a beautiful day to be free of work; it really was a shame that his husband had to be abroad for three days. He had a rather good idea what they could do to enjoy the summer heat when Mycroft came home and he had been thinking about it when the stranger greeted him. It was a rather short man, immaculately dressed, with sharp, dark eyes and dark hair.
"I need a sniper and I know you are one," the man said casually.
Sebastian frowned. "What makes you think so?"
"Ah… A simple deduction." The man showed a devilish grin.
Of course Sebastian was used to deductions, but he had only met two men who were able to tell a man's life story from one glance. Mycroft, of course, and his brother Sherlock, whom he had only met twice, though he was sure did not look one bit like the stranger. He wondered if the Holmes brothers had a cousin sharing their intelligence, but then decided that probably they could not be the only two geniuses in London. Anyway, he doubted if one of them was as smart as his Mycroft, although he thought that vast opinion was almost childish of him.
"You're distracted," the man remarked, now sitting next to him. "Maybe I should introduce myself. James Moriarty. You are Sebastian Moran. Or should I say Moran-Holmes?"

When Sebastian walked home, he didn't see nor hear anything around him. All he could hear was the tapping of his own shoes on the pavement, as if it were his own last heartbeats. Absorbed in thought, he almost walked into people, who could barely avoid him. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't risk telling Mycroft. There was not even a chance Moriarty would let them fly to safety abroad – they would both be dead before they had even talked it over. After all, it was clear that Moran was not Moriarty's first assassin. Only the most important.
All he could do was fulfilling the evil mind's wishes. He had to leave Mycroft; the sooner the better – or at least the safer. But how could he do that? Mycroft was his husband. He would see within a second what was on his mind. If Mycroft suspected the least of Sebastian's loyalty to him, it would be the end of them. And Moriarty would know, of course. Once again, British Intelligence had proven its worth to the malefactors rather than to its country.
Moriarty had not just wanted a sniper. That too, of course, but what he had wanted even more was power over the whole of England. And by choosing the right sniper, he had gotten himself both of his wishes. He hoped to get information, that he would of course never get from Sebastian, but even then the man would prove himself useful. For some time, it could be very handy to have an ally who was once loved by mister Holmes, who was working himself up so well at the government. And then of course, Moran had the reputation of never having missed anyone except for that first job. He was perfect. He was all Moriarty needed to become the man he would become. He would not even need to be a man anymore. Now he could become a spider in his web of crime.

The next two days, Sebastian was making his plans and packing, though most of the time he had been sitting in a chair, his head in his hands, desperate for a way out of this. Moriarty had made sure there was none.
It would have been easier if he had just gone away, but he had decided against it. Not only would Mycroft send people out looking for him because he would be worried, but Sebastian also wanted to see his partner one last time. It seemed ages ago he had been sitting in the park with his little fantasy of Mycroft's welcome home, before he had been disturbed by Moriarty. It would never become reality.

Click. The door. Tick. Umbrella put in its stand. Clof clof. Mycroft wiping his feet. Those noises had been so familiar to Sebastian, but now they were something special, memories to cherish. He swallowed. Step step step. "Sebastian?" The door between the corridor and the sitting room went open.
Mycroft came in, smiling and stepping to Sebastian with his arms open for an embrace.
Sebastian stood up from his chair. His face showed no emotion as he looked Mycroft in the eyes. He didn't show how he felt stabbed in the heart – he knew that in a couple of minutes, the man he loved would feel even worse.
"What's wrong?" Mycroft frowned as he let his eyes wander over his husband's face.
"I have gotten a better offer, Mycroft," he said coldly.
"What?" His brows knitted in a blend of surprise and concern.
"I have packed everything that is mine."
"What?" He let his eyes wander over Sebastian's face, but found nothing of a joke there. "Why?"
"Oh, don't worry. It's not anything you've done or haven't done. Let's just say the other party is more… persuasive." He even managed a haughty half-smile.
"I don't understand." Mycroft had never said those words as long as Sebastian knew him. He looked as if he was on the point of breaking – Sebastian had never seen that either, even in times of the worst conflicts Mycroft had had to solve.
"I've got a new job. It's got nothing to do with this." He removed the wedding ring from his finger and put it on the table. "I mean, it's nothing personal."
"How can it not be personal?" Mycroft's eyes were on the ring now, while he was hoping he would wake up from this nightmare. He had longed for being home… Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for this.
Sebastian followed his gaze for a moment, then remembered what he was doing this for. If he was not able to dissociate himself from his husband, he could not protect him either. He knew this would all mean that Mycroft would learn to hate him in time and that he would be responsible for his capture or maybe his death. It was like he had sold his soul to the devil, who now came to claim it.
Mycroft was staring at him, not knowing what to say.
Sebastian spoke quickly. "James Moriarty. Remember his name. I'm sorry, Mycroft, but this is goodbye." He picked up his trunks and went out, without looking back, leaving an astonished man who had never been more disappointed in his entire life.

July, 2012.

John and Sherlock were after him. Sebastian knew it perfectly well. He also knew that if he wanted, he could try to make Mycroft believe how it had really happened, if of course he was captured and not killed. But it would never be the same. He had done Moriarty's jobs, had threatened Mycroft's loved ones, saved his own life by killing men who were defending queen and country. He had even gone after children and aimed a rifle at John Watson. And he knew the man whom he had loved, long ago. It would be easier for him to think that they had caught the traitor and that there had never been a chance to get back their happy life together. Because of course, he would be right. There was no chance, as much as Sebastian wished the opposite. The last traces of their relationship had been erased many years ago. Mycroft should never know that as much as he had tried to put away his feelings, as much as he had attempted to dissociate from him, he had never managed to forget what it was worth.
He saw the two men watching him from the other side of the street and sighed. It was time to finish the extermination of Moriarty's network and he was one of the last links. He threw down his rifle. They could have him. He would tell everything, except for the parts concerning his personal life – if he had the chance, which he probably would; Sherlock wasn't that fond of Mycroft after all, so he would want him to tell the truth before a jury rather than having revenge himself on hurting his brother's feelings.
And then he would be locked away forever, a punishment he completely deserved. Still, he did not regret the choice he had made. If taking all those lives meant that Mycroft Holmes survived, it was worth it. His happiness may have died and that was the last Sebastian had wanted for his lover, but that very same man was also the best leader this country had ever had – and that, he thought, made it for the greater good.

As some time later handcuffs were roughly put around his wrists, he looked up for a moment before he was pushed into a police vehicle. On the end of the street, a tall man with an umbrella stood watching. It was the last he ever saw of Mycroft, and still, it would feel like a happy memory for the rest of his life.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this. I would love some reviews! :)