Chapter Text
Sebastian didn’t explain to the five-year-old where they were going, only that they needed to pack their bags and leave as quickly as possible.
The car ride to London took them the entirety of the evening, so that by the time they arrived the sky was already dark and the streets were bustling with nightlife. The stereo was playing in the background, another one of Robin’s cheap children’s CDs which he had bought a few years ago at a car boot sale. A whimsy rendition of ‘the wheels on the bus’ filled the interior of the car, increasingly irritating Sebastian by the second. Playing the CD was the only way that he had been able to stop Robin from asking so many questions, and even if he was subsequently close to losing his sanity it was better than hearing the question “where’s Uncle Jim?” every few seconds. Sebastian’s hand gripped to the steering wheel of the car as they sped through Greenwich, his teeth gritting every time the stupid chorus was repeated over and over again.
The blood stains on his hands were enough to remind Sebastian of why they were running away in the first place. They still hadn’t completely faded; he had been so in a rush to leave that he hadn’t had a chance to wash his hands properly, which also accounted for the splashes of crimson on his shirt. Sebastian had left Jim in the hallway, using only the dinosaur-patterned blanket to cover him up in-case anybody came knocking. He had promised Jim that he would come back afterwards to say a final farewell, but first he had to take care of certain matters.
By the time they arrived in North London Sebastian’s hands were trembling violently, and his face felt hot and constricted. The car was parked outside of a wealthy block of houses, all of which were at least three stories high with different brightly-coloured front doors. Sebastian clambered ungracefully out of the car first, turning off the dreaded stereo before going to collect Robin from the backseat. Despite it being so late the five-year-old was still wide awake; he was still dressed in his stripy jumper and shorts from earlier that day, shivering in the cold whilst his attention was drawn to the blood on Sebastian’s shirt. He had been staring at the blood throughout the entire journey, as noticed by Sebastian through the mirror, and even now the little boy was reluctant to take hold of his father’s hand.
“C’mon, little soldier…I’m not going to hurt you,” Sebastian pleaded desperately, crouching down so that he was at eye-level with the small boy.
The blond waited in silence for a response, but before Robin had a chance to speak the pair were interrupted by the shrill wail of a police-car siren from nearby. Momentarily the street was covered in dancing red and blue specs of light, before suddenly they disappeared again without a trace. Sebastian waited until the police car was completely gone before managing a distressed sigh of relief and composing himself. He looked up to the young boy, who was still rooted fearfully to the ground.
“I would never hurt you,” he added firmly, carefully outstretching his hand and waiting with bated breath.
It took a few minutes, until finally Robin accepted and took hold of it.
“Good boy,” Sebastian whispered shakily, pulling Robin into a brief hug as he buried his face against the boy’s shaggy sandy-coloured hair.
The five-year-old returned the hug, but only hesitantly, and for a sheer few minutes Sebastian remained crying into the arms of his son. His wonderful, precious son.
The front-door of the house in which they were visiting was green, and after knocking three times Sebastian took a step back and waited. A gentle thud pattered down the staircase, and soon the door opened to reveal a short, plump woman, dressed in her nightgown with rosy-cheeks and a confused smile.
“Sebastian?” She asked softly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face as she recognised the man. “Goodness it’s almost nine-o-clock… And who’s this-“
Maria’s words immediately trailed off at the sight of Sebastian’s bloodied shirt, and without waiting Sebastian ushered Robin inside, past Wellington’s wife and into the hallway. The house was decorated in the same floral pattern that Sebastian remembered, with the occasional vase of flowers as well as old photographs from when Wellington had still been alive. Maria flanked after them with a cry, practically forcing both Sebastian and the five-year-old into the kitchen before slamming the door behind them. There was already movement from upstairs, the ordeal at the door must have awoken the younger members of the family.
“What the Hell is this?!” Maria hissed once the kitchen door was firmly closed.
Her eyes flicked in bewilderment between both Sebastian and the young child, before finally she tore her gaze away so that she could fetch herself a cardigan to cover herself up. Maria looked older now, and a lot more worn than Sebastian remembered her to be. Age certainly hadn’t been kind to the poor woman, then again he supposed after her husband’s death she had been left to raise two children by herself.
Maria eventually returned, this time draped in a thin, pink cardigan, and she took a seat at the kitchen table in order to steady herself.
“I’m sorry for turning up out of the blue, I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t an emergency,” Sebastian promised, his gaze trailing around the kitchen before finally it landed upon the woman once more.
“What type of emergency?”
Maria’s sentence cut off at the sight of the blood stains smeared over Sebastian’s shirt. After staring at them for a few seconds she looked up towards Sebastian for an explanation, but when it became evident that he wasn’t going to give one, it seemingly dawned on her that whatever it was - it was serious.
Robin was planted firmly by his father’s side, almost as if he was scared to move a muscle. His blue eyes kept darting around the room as his hand gripped to the sleeve of Sebastian’s shirt, something which Maria quickly picked up on.
“And who’s this?” She asked tenderly, her expression instantly softening as her mouth lips formed an ‘O’ shape.
“Oh… is this?-“
“Robin,” Sebastian agreed bluntly, ushering the boy forward a little so that he could say hello.
Robin stepped forward but still refused to speak, something which Maria didn’t at all mind. She simply forced a strained smile, offering the boy a friendly nod.
“Well, Robin. Would you like something to eat? You must be hungry,” she asked politely.
Sebastian remained seated whilst Maria scavenged through the fridge, eventually finding a leftover plate of fish fingers to satisfy the hungry five-year-old.
“Let me get this straight, I haven’t heard from you in years and suddenly you turn up at my door with a child you want me to look after?” Maria questioned skeptically, checking the timer before carefully placing the food into the microwave and closing the metal door.
The microwave pinged a few minutes later, and Maria gently picked up the plate of food before placing it in-front of Robin on the table. The five-year-old said nothing, not even a ‘thank-you’, he simply picked up a spoon and began to nibble on a few stray peas that had rolled off of his plate.
She watched the boy closely for a few minutes to make sure that he was okay, before abruptly out of the blue she turned to Sebastian and swatted him furiously around the back of the head.
“…I hardly saw you after the funeral. You could have sent me a text, an email, just anything to let me know that you were okay,” Maria scolded seethingly, glaring at the man before taking a seat opposite from him.
“I know it was hard, what with Wellington’s death and then Jim’s… but you shouldn’t have left me in the dark, Sebastian. Not for all these years.”
Sebastian grunted in pain, rubbing the back of his head where Maria had hit him. The mention of Jim made him shudder, and he swallowed thickly before replying:
“I need Robin to stay here,” he whispered adamantly, checking to make sure that the five-year-old was still immersed in his food before leaning in close to Maria’s ear.
“I can’t tell you why, I can’t explain anything just yet, but he’ll be safe here with you.”
Maria laughed immediately in disbelief, massaging her face as though this was all just some terrible dream.
“And what about the costs?-“
“I’ll transfer money,” Sebastian interrupted desperately, placing a hand on the woman’s shoulder to stop her from moving. “I’ll pay for everything, I’ll do whatever I need to.”
Robin placed down his spoon with a defiant clatter, breaking both Sebastian and Maria away from their intimate conversation.
Maria forced a smile immediately and sprung to her feet, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder as she collected his now-empty plate of fish fingers.
“Good boy. Did you enjoy it?” She asked softly, to which Robin nodded his head at.
Even Sebastian managed a smile of relief at the response, flashing a half-hearted grin across the table to Robin whilst Maria scooped any remaining crumbs into the bin.
“You don’t have to worry about the money, he’ll be fine here,” The woman gave in finally.
“So you’ll take him?”
“Yes I’ll take him,” she agreed with an exasperated sigh, dumping the plate into the sink before coming to rejoin Sebastian at the table. “But I can’t promise it’ll be permanent. You forget that I already have two children, Sebastian, things are hard enough as they are.”
Instead of grinning, Sebastian could only manage a weak smile - a smile which soon turned to a grimace as he rested his head in his hands and wept. Maria understood at once, and hastily wrapped her arms around Sebastian’s waist in order to comfort him. The blond’s tremendous sobs filled the room, gaining not only Robin’s attention but attention from the two other children who were spying from the gap in the door.
It was shortly afterwards when Sebastian decided that it was time to leave.
They all gathered in the hallway; Sebastian, Maria, and Robin, who was dressed in a pair of starry pyjamas leant to him by Maria’s youngest daughter. In his hands he clutched to the cuddly toy tiger, which hadn’t left his side since first leaving Cornwall. There was a firm frown on Robin’s face, and it was evident that he still didn’t quite know what was going on. Both Sebastian and Maria had attempted to explain to him that he would be staying in London from now on, but each time the sulky five-year-old had simply refused to listen and started to cry.
“And are you certain you aren’t coming back?” Maria asked in a hushed tone, away from the attention of Robin.
“Yes,” Sebastian promised. “I won’t bother you any longer. Just take care of him, please?”
Maria nodded, and the pair shared a short, awkward embrace before eventually stepping back again. She sighed, and slowly they both turned to the young both stood waiting impatiently by the door. His cheeks were puffy and tear-stained and his eyes were hazy, a clear sign that he was in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.
“Robin?’ Sebastian asked lowly, crouching down so that he was at the five-year-old’s level once more. “You’ll be good, won’t you? I need you to listen to everything that Maria tells you to do and play nicely.”
Robin blinked, a confused pout wavering on his bottom lip.
“Where are you going?” He protested sulkily.
Sebastian sniffed, hesitating momentarily as he thought of how to answer the question. But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled Robin into a tight hug, cradling him closely as he clutched to the back of the boy’s head.
“You make me so, so proud, little soldier,” he whispered softly, his voice muffled by the embrace.
“…You’re going to do great things, I know you are. And I am so sorry, believe me when I say that. I should have been a better father… I love you, kiddo.”
The embrace only ended when Maria tapped Sebastian lightly on the shoulder, and with a heavy sigh he forced himself away. He pressed a final kiss to Robin’s temple, a nervous smile still twitching at his lips, until finally he got to his feet and opened the door.
“Take care of yourself, won’t you Sebastian?” Wellington’s wife pleaded, holding out an arm just before Sebastian took a step to leave.
Sebastian merely smiled uncomfortably at her.
“Don’t let anybody hurt a hair on his head,” he whispered plainly. “He’s a good kid. He’s a really good fucking kid.”
The drive back to Cornwall was completed in silence, this time without the annoying children’s CD playing on the stereo. Now that it was gone, Sebastian almost missed the racket, the shrill laughter and the temper tantrums from the backseat, the stupid music which always filled the car. All of Robin’s belongings had long since gone, all of which had been handed over to Maria just before he left London. Sebastian had left her a detailed list of Robin’s usual routine, of what he liked and what he didn’t like, although he was sure that the five-year-old would happily inform her himself.
Robin had never been afraid to speak his mind, even during the worst of times. Sebastian guessed that that trait came from his mother, after all it certainly didn’t come from him. He was a coward, a spineless coward who had lost everything. And that included his son. Maybe if he hadn’t invited Jim back then things would have been okay, or if he had followed in Jim’s footsteps and killed himself when he first had the chance to.
The drive home was long and exhausting, but no matter how tired Sebastian felt he kept driving. His hands remained firmly gripped to the steering wheel the whole time, almost as if in a way to stop himself from feeling anything. The drive was the perfect distraction, a way to forget about everything that had happened just for a few sombre hours. Sebastian didn’t make his usual pit stop for food or even a quick cigarette, he kept driving. He drove until finally in the dim light he could make out the signpost for Cornwall.
By the time Sebastian arrived back at the flat it was almost dawn; the warm orange glow of the sun was starting to peek above the horizons, and the birds were preparing their birdsong for the long day ahead.
The blond climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him as he traipsed up the long flight of stairs towards his apartment. The front-door was already ajar, meaning that the dog must have ran off and escaped whilst he was busy in London. ‘Lucky bugger,’ Sebastian thought to himself, slipping inside the flat and closing the door sharply behind him.
Jim was still there, unmoving under the blanket.
Sebastian tried removing the blanket, but the same, ghostly face was still staring back at him each time. Jim’s black eyes were still open and glassy, and that same cruel smirk was still etched onto his lips. A final reminder of how much of a prick Jim Moriarty had been and still was. In the end the blond plucked up the courage to close Jim’s eyes as a way of preserving his dignity, pressing a last kiss to his forehead before wrapping him back up in the blanket once more.
“I’m just heading out, Jim, I won’t be long.”
Sebastian picked up his phone from the tabletop, toying with it momentarily before reluctantly calling for the police. The call was only short, with Sebastian making up some false lie about a burglary that had taken place, and the receiver explained that officers would be arriving to the flat shortly in order to inspect it. It gave him the perfect window to leave.
Just before leaving, Sebastian casted one concluding gaze around the apartment, just to take it all in. Despite having spent the majority of his adult life living alone, somehow now the flat seemed more lonely than ever. Robin’s terrible drawings were still stuck to the fridge, whereas his kite was still propped against the wall from where Sebastian had forgotten to pack it. From where he stood he could faintly see the cliffs out of the kitchen window, shrouded by clouds and making them almost impossible to view clearly. Cornwall had served him well since his army discharge, but it certainly was nothing compared to London.
“See you later, James.”
By the time Sebastian trekked up to the top of the cliff dawn had already broken, and the warm orange glow from before was now reflected down onto the little village and the surrounding sea. It had taken at least a ten minute walk, meaning that by now the police officers would already be at the flat searching the place. He hoped that Jim would be okay, and that the officers treated him with dignity, however the furious howl of the wind didn’t allow him much time to dwell on his thoughts.
No doubt the press would be crawling with the news, he could already imagine tomorrow morning’s headlines. Tabloids were such ghastly things, Sebastian had never understood why Jim got so much enjoyment out of them. Apart from the articles about Holmes of course.
No doubt Holmes would find his own pleasure from the story.
A sudden, sharp gust of wind almost knocked Sebastian from his perch, enough to send him flying down into the stormy depths below. If Jim was here then he would have branded it as ironic (or more like moronic), but thankfully he wasn’t so Sebastian didn’t have to think about it. How the man so terrified of death was here, about to take his own life.
In a mere few hours he’d simply become another statistic, another number for the news reporters to flaunt in their coverage. He’d be known as ‘just another jumper’, and no doubt have the piss taken out of him by the locals at the pub during quiz night, but oddly he didn’t mind so much. It was far better than being remembered as Sebastian Moran; the failed ex-soldier and father, the man who had let down everybody around him and gotten them all killed just through his arrogance.
Now that was ironic. Sebastian had always been so scared of Jim taking his life, of Jim one day calling it quits and opting for a way out. The blond could almost feel his presence there, curled around him like a snake or a parasite. Jim was whispering in his ear, tickling the back of his neck and causing his hair to prick upwards and stand on end.
‘What are you waiting for, ‘Bastian? Do it. I’m waiting.’
There came another almighty gust of wind, an indication that it was time to go.
Ever so slowly, Sebastian shuffled his feet to the edge of the clifftop, staring down at the rocky waters below. For once they looked relatively calm, unbothered by the rain or snow. The waves gently crashed against the shore, and a few seagulls were sat basking in the warm water, searching for their next meal. He wasn’t scared, or at least he kept telling himself that. Everything around him, from the rocks, to the water, to the seagulls appeared to be egging him on, providing that last final push for Sebastian to hurry up and just go. Even the waves below were getting stronger and fiercer. They were growing impatient.
‘I told you, didn’t I? We’d go out together, just like Bonnie and Clyde.’
Without thinking, Sebastian clenched his eyes shut, and constricted his chest. He wanted to outstretch his arms, but he couldn’t bring himself too. The fear was holding him back. He shuffled closer to the edge, his shoes scraping against the gravel until finally he could sense the drop. The drop was bigger than he imagined, perhaps it was only a good thing that he couldn’t see the sea. Maybe if he had agreed to go back to London with Jim then things wouldn’t have ended up this way. They could have been happy together, away from the past. Robin could go to school, he and Jim could restart the network together. But it was an impossible dream.
Sebastian thought of Robin first, the sweet, innocent boy who he had been proud to raise as his own. He was probably fast asleep in the comfort of Maria’s home by now, no-doubt under the watchful eye of Wellington’s wife herself. He’d learn to cope eventually, Sebastian didn’t doubt that for a second. Maria would serve as a wonderful mother for the boy, as would his new siblings. Robin had always wanted siblings after all.
Then Sebastian turned his thoughts to Jim. But what was there to say about Jim?
The definition of a machine was simple enough: something with several parts, all of which worked together to perform a particular task. By the definition alone, humans and machines didn’t sound too far apart from each-other - the only difference being that humans were alive. Jim Moriarty had been alive too; he had had a heart, even if sometimes he didn’t show it, he had breathed and pumped blood just like any other person did. He smiled, laughed occasionally, and was just as alive as any other person had been.
Sebastian’s last ever words to Jim had been calling him a machine, relating him to a useless piece of scrap metal. He regretted those final words more than anything, yet still he regretted even more not answering the question. The question that he had asked Jim all those years ago:
‘What are you, James? What are we?’
Now he understood it.
Jim Moriarty had never been a machine. And neither had Sebastian Moran.
They were human.
And with that Sebastian leant his body forwards, and jumped.
‘Atta boy. I missed you.’