On the ninth day of Sherlockmas ... "Jim, who still scares me," a gift for katemacetak
Author: elanorofcastile
Title: Jim, who still scares me
A gift for: katemacetak
Characters/Pairing: Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran; minor Jim/OMC
Category: Mostly gen
Rating: R
Warnings: Implied violence against people and animals, including one mention of abuse, implied underage sex, allusion to canon minor character death
Summary: Five people Jim Moriarty frightened, and one who went along for the ride.
Author's Notes: I truly enjoyed writing this, and hope that you enjoy it, katemacetak! I was excited for the chance to explore a bit of possible backstory for Jim, being sure to capture him as a teen and some of the events that could have shaped him into the man we see in the show. All of my love to my beta X for her help and support. Title adapted from Teen Wolf line.
They never see anything obvious, but there's an uneasy air that follows little Jimmy around and sets his mother's nerves on edge. No animals from the farm go missing, and there's no word from the neighbors that theirs have come to any wrong, but when Siobhan stands at the sink doing breakfast dishes, she doesn't see as many birds or foxes out bothering the garden or the chickens, and she knows there's something wrong. She can't yet vocalize it, doesn't want to say the words lest they become reality.
When she finds the jumper hidden under his mattress, the sleeves stiff with old blood, she feels like all of her worst fears have been realized. She buries the jumper in the bottom of the rubbish heap, not wanting to tell Conor more than he should know, but when the invitation comes from her parents for Jimmy to visit them in the country further north, Siobhan doesn't hesitate: she accepts the invitation and packs his bags to send him away, her terrifying little boy.
~*~
It's only been a few months when Iosaf hears of strange fires out on the fen. They're all just little ones that burned out easily, at least for the moment, but with the winds and dry season coming, there could be more damage. There's a hint of smoke around the house, but Iosaf thinks nothing of it at first. When Jimmy comes back to him with singed cuffs and the stink of burnt hair and flesh, however, Iosaf knows there's something wrong with his grandson.
Jimmy's smile and wild eyes are those of someone who's seen battle and come back thirsty, not the eyes of a ten-year-old boy. Iosaf tries to beat it out of him once, needing to teach him that fire isn't something to be toyed with by children, but he knows it doesn't work. All that happens is that Jimmy becomes harder to find during the day. Though the smell of smoke is no longer found around the house, there are more fires, and small, old buildings start becoming victims. Most are close enough to look like accidents or bad wiring, but sometimes they're obvious with canisters of petrol in bales of hay.
It's a blessing when the local priest tells Kathleen about the boarding school near Dublin for troubled boys. They take him on a trip to the city, telling him the things he'll learn at school, and won't the city be a nice change from being out in the country. Jimmy is quiet, keeping any reaction to himself, just staring out the car window.
When they leave him in the dormitories with his bags and a "see you soon, Jimmy-boy" they feel the weight of his empty eyes on their backs and they don't feel warm again until they're out of the city and well on the way back to their house.
~*~
At school, Jim doesn't make friends as much as he weaves a network. There isn't a single boy who sits at his table for meals that he doesn't have something on. He hopes to start on the teachers next term. There's a young priest who teaches catechism that Jim knows has been looking at his mouth.
The classes are useless and simple, and Jim isn't learning a single thing about being a good Catholic boy or a bright mind of the future. He is learning how to be a scholar of people, a musician of nerves and jealousy. He composes symphonies of terror and fear, and rules the halls of the boarding school like a king.
His family had made special dispensation for him to stay there through the holidays, and he runs free through the grounds. He takes the chance to refine his words and ways, and manages to seduce the priest who feels sorry for him easily. But it's the headmaster's son he isn't sure how to play, yet. Carl is only there in the summers, and he seems to try for Jim's friendship when they are alone, but when anyone comes within sight of Carl, he pushes Jim away.
It's the summer of his twelfth birthday that Jim is pushed away by Carl one too many times, and Jim... Jim stops his overtures of friendship.
~*~
It's not that the boy is any more dedicated to the cause, but the fire Eamon sees in his eyes, it burns brighter. He says his name is Mahoney, but he's not a part of any Mahoneys from 'round here. But then again, they're all men hoping to fight but protect themselves, hiding behind names and different disguises, so it's no difference to him. He teaches Jim how to run messages and to code them in a language Jim easily learns as a third tongue.
After months of messages and patience, close calls and fallen brothers, Eamon brings Jim to him to start teaching him the trade. It's eerie how fast the boy picks up handling and cleaning a gun, working the brushes and cloth until the metal shines. After two weeks he can hit any target they set up, practicing shots in the tunnels and basements where the sound is loud, but the Ulstermen can't hear. After he's proven himself with the array of guns, it's no question that he will become Eamon's apprentice. Steady hands and a sharp eye a good bomb maker makes.
Jim truly is a prodigy, more deft and wily than his quiet manner hints at, and he quickly learns all Eamon has to teach him. It's after that that Eamon starts to worry, when he learns Jim has been working on his own. The combinations and extras he messes with keep Eamon up at night. Acetone and screws, bleach and ball bearings, crushed glass and lye, the chaos and destruction he wreaks quickly becomes noticed.
There's word of the devil being on their side, of divine retribution being rained down on the RUC bastards, and the name Mahoney briefly takes a hushed, reverent tone when it's whispered. But as quickly as it rises to divinity, the name disappears from conversation. The bombs stop without warning, and there's no trace of Jim to be found. Only the whispers remain and fuel the legend.
Then, the ceasefire comes and there's talk of peace again. Eamon doesn't think on Jim for a long time, except for flashes of a bright smile in fire-filled nightmares.
~*~
It's easy for the bartender to spot the wolf that tries to pass as a man as he walks amongst the sheep. The man oozes charm and violence, even though he looks like any other university boy. He never buys drinks for anyone - occasionally has ones bought for him, sure, but it's rare, and only when his fangs are hidden away long enough to get the mark closer. The better to eat him with, when the moment is right. When the bar is empty, though, the man always comes up and watches Matthias work, obvious in his interest, and he's so different from all the other bar boys and girls that he catches Matthias's eye. Matthias never says anything, just appreciates what he can see, knowing it will likely never come to anything.
Soon enough, though, the wolf gains ravens (and Christ, isn't that his comparative literature degree put to good use) and he stops coming up for drinks or to walk amongst the students, just holds court in the corner booth. Matthias never quite knows what they do, but he's seen enough people slip out the back door in pairs, only to have one return, to have an idea. The spatters of blood and occasional tooth he finds by the back dumpster tell enough. There's never enough evidence there for him to say anything to the coppers, and enough hundred pound notes are left as tips and flirtation looks thrown his way, that he thinks silence might be smarter, lest it become his own teeth decorating the ground.
It's a few months later, the bar empty for spring hols, when the man comes in alone. He's the only other one in the bar, and this time, he doesn't slink off to his corner booth. He leans on the bar and looks at Matthias, really looks at him while Matthias cleans glasses. He thinks he should ask if he wants anything to drink, but the words freeze before he can speak them when the man reaches over the bar and grabs Matthias's wrist, pulling him closer. Stretched over the bar, Matthias freezes, not sure if he should try to pull back or not. It would probably be fruitless to try, would probably result in injury. What he doesn't expect is for the man to kiss him hard, forcing his tongue into Matthias's mouth.
Oh. Oh. Matthias relaxes into the kiss as best he can, stretched as he is over the bar. He drops the glass he was holding and it shatters on the cement floor, breaking the moment. The man is already composed again, everything in place, and the only sign of their kiss is the redness to his lips. Matthias starts to finally introduce himself, but the other man holds a finger up.
"Oh, I know who you are, Matthias."
Matthias clears his throat, his voice husky. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage then..." He raises and eyebrow, prompting the other man for a name, but he just shakes his head and laughs, coming around the bar to stand in front of Matthias.
"Oh yes, and that's how it works best. I just wanted to thank you for your... discretion, before I leave. It's been a pleasure." He tips his head, the fluid grace of him exaggerated as he leans back, his feet apart and creating a welcoming space between his legs. Matthias licks his lips, looking him up and down, and dares to step into that space.
The man turns his head briefly, grinning at the way Matthias is compelled to move closer, and he laughs. "Careful now. I'm the Pied Piper, do you really want to be one of my rats?" At that, Matthias pauses before chancing a hand on Jim's waist. "Ah, perhaps you do. And so bold a rat indeed."
Matthias is pulled in to another kiss, only this time he gives as good as he gets. He's allowed to undo shirt buttons, his fingers finally touching skin he's thought about in the dark of the night. Quick enough they turn and Matthias is pinned to the bar. He's allowed to touch and take, but doesn't feel any response besides the rough kisses. He pauses, breaking the kiss, and he feels like cold water is poured over him. The calculating, evaluating gaze that meets his is the wolf's again, and Matthias is but an eager lamb, gamboling into his reach.
The air shifts, and the man pulls back, smoothing his shirt and buttoning himself away while Matthias stands frozen. A quick flash of teeth, and a blink and the man is already around the bar, tipping his head in farewell.
He slips away out the door and when Matthias can move again, he goes to the door, looking out but unable to see a graceful dark figure on the street. It's not until he's cleaning that back booth that he finds a thousand pounds wrapped around a business card with just a name that unexpectedly sends shivers down his back: James Moriarty.
~*~
Sebastian stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray between them, the metal dish sliding slightly on the cheap plastic table cloth. It's a grimy pub halfway to Wales, but it's where the business card had told him to go. He knows better than to underestimate men in suits, having known enough to be vicious bastards who want triggers pulled and throats slashed without getting their own hands dirty, and the man across from him certainly looks the type. Sebastian takes a sip of his coffee, leaning back in his chair to assess the offer hanging between them.
He briefly considers saying no, but there's something there that interests him, an excitement in the job that he hadn't felt since he enlisted. The things he'd heard about this man should have him running in the opposite direction, but instead...
"All right, then."
The grin that greets him is knife-bright, and yet nothing about it worries Sebastian.
Title: Jim, who still scares me
A gift for: katemacetak
Characters/Pairing: Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran; minor Jim/OMC
Category: Mostly gen
Rating: R
Warnings: Implied violence against people and animals, including one mention of abuse, implied underage sex, allusion to canon minor character death
Summary: Five people Jim Moriarty frightened, and one who went along for the ride.
Author's Notes: I truly enjoyed writing this, and hope that you enjoy it, katemacetak! I was excited for the chance to explore a bit of possible backstory for Jim, being sure to capture him as a teen and some of the events that could have shaped him into the man we see in the show. All of my love to my beta X for her help and support. Title adapted from Teen Wolf line.
They never see anything obvious, but there's an uneasy air that follows little Jimmy around and sets his mother's nerves on edge. No animals from the farm go missing, and there's no word from the neighbors that theirs have come to any wrong, but when Siobhan stands at the sink doing breakfast dishes, she doesn't see as many birds or foxes out bothering the garden or the chickens, and she knows there's something wrong. She can't yet vocalize it, doesn't want to say the words lest they become reality.
When she finds the jumper hidden under his mattress, the sleeves stiff with old blood, she feels like all of her worst fears have been realized. She buries the jumper in the bottom of the rubbish heap, not wanting to tell Conor more than he should know, but when the invitation comes from her parents for Jimmy to visit them in the country further north, Siobhan doesn't hesitate: she accepts the invitation and packs his bags to send him away, her terrifying little boy.
~*~
It's only been a few months when Iosaf hears of strange fires out on the fen. They're all just little ones that burned out easily, at least for the moment, but with the winds and dry season coming, there could be more damage. There's a hint of smoke around the house, but Iosaf thinks nothing of it at first. When Jimmy comes back to him with singed cuffs and the stink of burnt hair and flesh, however, Iosaf knows there's something wrong with his grandson.
Jimmy's smile and wild eyes are those of someone who's seen battle and come back thirsty, not the eyes of a ten-year-old boy. Iosaf tries to beat it out of him once, needing to teach him that fire isn't something to be toyed with by children, but he knows it doesn't work. All that happens is that Jimmy becomes harder to find during the day. Though the smell of smoke is no longer found around the house, there are more fires, and small, old buildings start becoming victims. Most are close enough to look like accidents or bad wiring, but sometimes they're obvious with canisters of petrol in bales of hay.
It's a blessing when the local priest tells Kathleen about the boarding school near Dublin for troubled boys. They take him on a trip to the city, telling him the things he'll learn at school, and won't the city be a nice change from being out in the country. Jimmy is quiet, keeping any reaction to himself, just staring out the car window.
When they leave him in the dormitories with his bags and a "see you soon, Jimmy-boy" they feel the weight of his empty eyes on their backs and they don't feel warm again until they're out of the city and well on the way back to their house.
~*~
At school, Jim doesn't make friends as much as he weaves a network. There isn't a single boy who sits at his table for meals that he doesn't have something on. He hopes to start on the teachers next term. There's a young priest who teaches catechism that Jim knows has been looking at his mouth.
The classes are useless and simple, and Jim isn't learning a single thing about being a good Catholic boy or a bright mind of the future. He is learning how to be a scholar of people, a musician of nerves and jealousy. He composes symphonies of terror and fear, and rules the halls of the boarding school like a king.
His family had made special dispensation for him to stay there through the holidays, and he runs free through the grounds. He takes the chance to refine his words and ways, and manages to seduce the priest who feels sorry for him easily. But it's the headmaster's son he isn't sure how to play, yet. Carl is only there in the summers, and he seems to try for Jim's friendship when they are alone, but when anyone comes within sight of Carl, he pushes Jim away.
It's the summer of his twelfth birthday that Jim is pushed away by Carl one too many times, and Jim... Jim stops his overtures of friendship.
~*~
It's not that the boy is any more dedicated to the cause, but the fire Eamon sees in his eyes, it burns brighter. He says his name is Mahoney, but he's not a part of any Mahoneys from 'round here. But then again, they're all men hoping to fight but protect themselves, hiding behind names and different disguises, so it's no difference to him. He teaches Jim how to run messages and to code them in a language Jim easily learns as a third tongue.
After months of messages and patience, close calls and fallen brothers, Eamon brings Jim to him to start teaching him the trade. It's eerie how fast the boy picks up handling and cleaning a gun, working the brushes and cloth until the metal shines. After two weeks he can hit any target they set up, practicing shots in the tunnels and basements where the sound is loud, but the Ulstermen can't hear. After he's proven himself with the array of guns, it's no question that he will become Eamon's apprentice. Steady hands and a sharp eye a good bomb maker makes.
Jim truly is a prodigy, more deft and wily than his quiet manner hints at, and he quickly learns all Eamon has to teach him. It's after that that Eamon starts to worry, when he learns Jim has been working on his own. The combinations and extras he messes with keep Eamon up at night. Acetone and screws, bleach and ball bearings, crushed glass and lye, the chaos and destruction he wreaks quickly becomes noticed.
There's word of the devil being on their side, of divine retribution being rained down on the RUC bastards, and the name Mahoney briefly takes a hushed, reverent tone when it's whispered. But as quickly as it rises to divinity, the name disappears from conversation. The bombs stop without warning, and there's no trace of Jim to be found. Only the whispers remain and fuel the legend.
Then, the ceasefire comes and there's talk of peace again. Eamon doesn't think on Jim for a long time, except for flashes of a bright smile in fire-filled nightmares.
~*~
It's easy for the bartender to spot the wolf that tries to pass as a man as he walks amongst the sheep. The man oozes charm and violence, even though he looks like any other university boy. He never buys drinks for anyone - occasionally has ones bought for him, sure, but it's rare, and only when his fangs are hidden away long enough to get the mark closer. The better to eat him with, when the moment is right. When the bar is empty, though, the man always comes up and watches Matthias work, obvious in his interest, and he's so different from all the other bar boys and girls that he catches Matthias's eye. Matthias never says anything, just appreciates what he can see, knowing it will likely never come to anything.
Soon enough, though, the wolf gains ravens (and Christ, isn't that his comparative literature degree put to good use) and he stops coming up for drinks or to walk amongst the students, just holds court in the corner booth. Matthias never quite knows what they do, but he's seen enough people slip out the back door in pairs, only to have one return, to have an idea. The spatters of blood and occasional tooth he finds by the back dumpster tell enough. There's never enough evidence there for him to say anything to the coppers, and enough hundred pound notes are left as tips and flirtation looks thrown his way, that he thinks silence might be smarter, lest it become his own teeth decorating the ground.
It's a few months later, the bar empty for spring hols, when the man comes in alone. He's the only other one in the bar, and this time, he doesn't slink off to his corner booth. He leans on the bar and looks at Matthias, really looks at him while Matthias cleans glasses. He thinks he should ask if he wants anything to drink, but the words freeze before he can speak them when the man reaches over the bar and grabs Matthias's wrist, pulling him closer. Stretched over the bar, Matthias freezes, not sure if he should try to pull back or not. It would probably be fruitless to try, would probably result in injury. What he doesn't expect is for the man to kiss him hard, forcing his tongue into Matthias's mouth.
Oh. Oh. Matthias relaxes into the kiss as best he can, stretched as he is over the bar. He drops the glass he was holding and it shatters on the cement floor, breaking the moment. The man is already composed again, everything in place, and the only sign of their kiss is the redness to his lips. Matthias starts to finally introduce himself, but the other man holds a finger up.
"Oh, I know who you are, Matthias."
Matthias clears his throat, his voice husky. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage then..." He raises and eyebrow, prompting the other man for a name, but he just shakes his head and laughs, coming around the bar to stand in front of Matthias.
"Oh yes, and that's how it works best. I just wanted to thank you for your... discretion, before I leave. It's been a pleasure." He tips his head, the fluid grace of him exaggerated as he leans back, his feet apart and creating a welcoming space between his legs. Matthias licks his lips, looking him up and down, and dares to step into that space.
The man turns his head briefly, grinning at the way Matthias is compelled to move closer, and he laughs. "Careful now. I'm the Pied Piper, do you really want to be one of my rats?" At that, Matthias pauses before chancing a hand on Jim's waist. "Ah, perhaps you do. And so bold a rat indeed."
Matthias is pulled in to another kiss, only this time he gives as good as he gets. He's allowed to undo shirt buttons, his fingers finally touching skin he's thought about in the dark of the night. Quick enough they turn and Matthias is pinned to the bar. He's allowed to touch and take, but doesn't feel any response besides the rough kisses. He pauses, breaking the kiss, and he feels like cold water is poured over him. The calculating, evaluating gaze that meets his is the wolf's again, and Matthias is but an eager lamb, gamboling into his reach.
The air shifts, and the man pulls back, smoothing his shirt and buttoning himself away while Matthias stands frozen. A quick flash of teeth, and a blink and the man is already around the bar, tipping his head in farewell.
He slips away out the door and when Matthias can move again, he goes to the door, looking out but unable to see a graceful dark figure on the street. It's not until he's cleaning that back booth that he finds a thousand pounds wrapped around a business card with just a name that unexpectedly sends shivers down his back: James Moriarty.
~*~
Sebastian stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray between them, the metal dish sliding slightly on the cheap plastic table cloth. It's a grimy pub halfway to Wales, but it's where the business card had told him to go. He knows better than to underestimate men in suits, having known enough to be vicious bastards who want triggers pulled and throats slashed without getting their own hands dirty, and the man across from him certainly looks the type. Sebastian takes a sip of his coffee, leaning back in his chair to assess the offer hanging between them.
He briefly considers saying no, but there's something there that interests him, an excitement in the job that he hadn't felt since he enlisted. The things he'd heard about this man should have him running in the opposite direction, but instead...
"All right, then."
The grin that greets him is knife-bright, and yet nothing about it worries Sebastian.