#nettieseries

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part X

By the time the cab had arrived at the hospital near the intended hotel, Sebastian had had a change of heart. He huffed and cursed himself for having let the panic mode affect his thinking. A hotel was a quick and temporary solution, it simply wouldn’t do. There would be no access to a change of clothes and they wouldn’t be left alone, as the cleaning staff would be sure to show up sometime during their stay. 

Sebastian was on his phone, making quick arrangements via text to have the bike picked up and taken back to his spare flat. That was also where he would take Nettie. After he had paid the cabbie and made sure the man had seen them walking toward the hospital entrance he made a sharp turn, still supporting most of Nettie’s weight. Another car was waiting for them in the hospital car park. The same kind of slick BMW Jim had arrived in the first time the sniper had met him. Sebastian remembered it had been silver, this one was black. Newton was the fastest responding driver, he was also the best that the empire had and Sebastian’s favourite get-away driver. The two men exchanged polite nods as the sniper peeked into the car. Sebastian helped Nettie into the back seat, dropping the sports bag gently on the floor of the car. 

“Where are we going, Bastian?” Nettie asked in a voice that was close to the raspiness he had acquired from years of smoking. It was somewhere between a hiss and a whisper. He hadn’t seen it but her eyes had been closed most of their journey through the city, even after she seemed to be coming out of her dazed high.  “We’re going...” He was about to say ‘home’ but realised what that might suggest to her. The family house had never been home to either of them, and yet that was what he assumed she would think of. He didn’t want to remind her of that. Though of course he didn’t really know what the word ‘home’ meant to her now. It could be that rehabilitation centre their parents had sent her to.  “We’re going to a safe place. I’ll be there with you.” He assured his sister. 

The spare flat was one that he had come to use more and more after Jim abandoned ship. The criminal just went AWOL and Sebastian received a text instructing him to captain the ship, expecting unanswered questions to stay unanswered. The sniper couldn’t stand to be in the presence of the things they had shared in the master criminal’s flat. He felt stupid for thinking it had meant something when in reality it was nothing. Sebastian couldn’t work with nothing. The tiger needed a hunt that mattered. He was never meant to run the empire, but with the head of the hydra cut, the second in command was the only one left to take over. The ordeal had at least helped the sniper understand where the master criminal’s headaches came from.

Sebastian’s face morphed into a similar expression that could be found on Sir Augustus’ face. Looking at Nettie, Sebastian saw fear in her eyes and he couldn’t figure out why for the longest time. It stripped him of the anger that he had allowed to build, being alone in his own head for too long. “What’s the matter?” He asked her. For all the genetics in the mix that had made the both of them an almost exact image of their mother, Sebastian didn’t seem to be able to shake the parts of Sir Augustus that made up the rest of his genetic material. As Nettie saw the anger fade and get replaced with concern she calmed. It was their mother’s eyes looking back at her again. The reason she had trusted that Sebastian was really there in the first place. “You had that look in your eye. that he used to have when he called us into his office.” Sebastian could feel Nettie shivering against his side. “Like he was ready to hurt us.” She mumbled. She tucked her head under his chin. The pom-pom on her wool hat tickled his face again. Sebastian let out a silent sigh, and apologised for scaring her.

The car came to a halt and Sebastian exchanged another look with Newton. He assured the man that he would be compensated for the last minute run. The sports bag with Sebastian’s equipment got snatched off the floor before the car door closed and Newton drove away. Sebastian retrieved the key from the bag and started inside the building with Nettie. The next few days would be hard on her, but he’d be there now that he finally could.

“When was the last time you ate something?” Sebastian turned the key and ushered Nettie inside the flat. She was going back and forth between awake and aware, only to seem fatigued and on the verge of falling asleep the next minute. His question was answered with a shrug, telling him which state she was in just then. The fridge was stocked, he would make her something while she rested. There was also the issue of a shower, he certainly wanted one. They both smelled of sick and as soon as the door had closed behind them, Sebastian tugged his stained t-shirt off without thinking, leaving Nettie to gape at the scars that adorned his upper body. Most notable was of course the three parallel scars going from left to right down his torso, making it look like a sash had been burned into his skin. Nettie pointed at the scars, having little to no idea where to begin with all the questions that they raised. Sebastian was far too nonchalant about it.

“Long story.” the sniper shook his head. “An army memento.” “Father was right? You tried to kill yourself?” Sebastian laughed unexpectedly at the question. “No. In fact, hell no. I’ll tell you in the morning, alright?” He smiled, guiding her to the bedroom where the en-suite was. There wasn’t much to the room; a queen-sized mattress on the floor made up the bed, with a dresser on the opposite side of the room next to the door that lead to the bathroom. 

“The bathroom’s in there, if you need it. Bed’s all yours if you want to get some rest. I thought I’d make us something to eat.” He could barely believe the way he was speaking, as if she was an old friend visiting and not his long lost sister. There was no ‘normal’ way to behave in a situation like that.

Nettie nodded at his words but had a small frown forming, deepening the wrinkle between her eyes. Sebastian thought he recognised the dilemma she was going over in her head. Sleeping without the aid of pills or indeed drugs meant there was a risk of nightmares. He had resigned himself to that fate, but Nettie had not.  “Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?” He gave her a nod, moving to open the dresser drawer. He thought he’d find her something clean to sleep in. Sebastian noticed then that he had failed to register she’d shed her fluffy jacket. During his distracted thoughts Nettie dodged for the bathroom and emptied what was left in her stomach. Sebastian frowned, hearing the sounds of retching. The sniper leaned into the room, checking on his sister. 

He’d get her a large glass of water. Before leaving the bedroom he placed an old tank-top on the bed for her, hurrying into the kitchen to get that water. There wasn’t much by way of kitchen supplies which meant improvising. He filled the coffee pot with cold water and brought a clean mug back to the bedroom. 

Nettie had rinsed her mouth and was changing into the tank-top. He thought he could see her swaying and quickly put the water aside. She looked about ready to fall asleep right there on her feet. Sebastian caught her and together they sank to the floor just outside the bathroom. Nettie hummed and leaned back against his warm torso. He had always been a furnace to anyone willing to bunk with him. His body temperature seemed to calm her and her head lulled to the side. Breaths slowed, implying she had indeed fallen asleep.

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part IX

The site turned out to be an old construction site, where the temporary wire fence was still in place. Though it had plenty of holes in it. Scaffolding stood against the exterior of the house on the lot, it was starting to look worn by the elements. Sebastian could only guess why the project had been abandoned. Perhaps there was a shortage of funds, or it had been handled by a crooked building firm.  In a few places the glass in the windows were completely gone, some however still had bits stuck around the frame. Others simply had rock shaped holes in them. The shape of the house reminded him of their Islington home. The building had been claimed as shelter, even in the entrance hall he could see nests of flattened cardboard boxes stuffed with newspaper. “She usually goes upstairs.” The young woman told him. After that she left him to find Nettie by himself. Sebastian was rather stumped. The stairs were covered in dirt and leaves, added in for colour were sweet wrappers and cheap Styrofoam coffee mugs.

As he ascended the stairs he half expected to break through one of the steps and fall into a dark hole. Needless to say he did not.  Even though he didn’t know the layout of the house Sebastian instinctively headed for a room that was as close to the position of his bedroom in the family home. The sentimentality made him huff a bitter sounding laugh at himself. Would Nettie be as sentimental? For all she knew, he was dead. Sir Augustus had seen to convincing her of that. 

He walked passed beaten mattresses with lumps of winter coats on them. It hit him that these were people huddled against the cold. He should have recognised the shape, he had seen it before after all. With the windows smashed there wasn’t much of a temperature change taking shelter indoors. 

His grip tightened on the strap of his sports bag. Sebastian peeked into every room he passed walking down the corridor. The wind from outside suddenly joined them inside, creating an odd mock echo. He listened for a female voice when he heard talking coming from another room. There was even a stifled giggle that reminded him of his days at Eton. “Nettie?” Sebastian peeked into one of the many rooms, he had yet to reach his final destination. The laughing stopped and he was stared at, but no one spoke. He scanned the make-shift beds for her blue jacket and the white knitted hat. Some of the occupants in that room had even taken to using newspaper as covers. It took some effort to see in the dark, the only light was the moon and a few small candles; each with their flames clinging to the wick. Sebastian moved on to the next room. The room he had decided she would most likely have chosen. 

He stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on a white hat out from which long blonde hair seemed to pour. Her back was to him. Her cardboard bed strategically placed on the same wall as the broken window, far enough away that the chilled winds would not get at her. There was another body next to her, larger in frame but wearing a coat that outlined it perfectly. Clearly a man. Sebastian crossed the room and looked down at her unknown companion. The man was unmoving, eyes open. Sebastian shivered and reached out to check not the stranger’s pulse but Nettie’s. The man blinked but didn’t register Sebastian’s presence. Nettie stirred when his warm fingers touched her neck. He could tell she was on something, it wasn’t entirely surprising. Her eyes opened, locked on his. She gave him a peaceful smile that suggested she was under the impression she had died and gone to meet her brother. “Nettie...” all of the dread and fear of not knowing what to say slipped away. He was in panic mode, yes. But it was the kind of panic that helped him form a plan and proceed to execute it. “It’s Sebastian, yeah?” He helped her sit up. The realisation was sinking in. “Alive.” He nodded, seeing the question in her eyes. “And you’re alive too.” Had he waited any longer she might not have been. 

Nettie was holding his shoulders, squeezing them like you would a ripe piece of fruit. She opened her mouth to speak, or so Sebastian thought. There was a small frown on her forehead, a line between her eyes. It distracted him as she vomited straight onto his shirt. Sebastian moved back a little bit, giving a groan at the mess. Whether or not this was an emotional reaction from her, he had not expected getting vomited on. “Christ. Come on, we’re going someplace warm and where there’s food.” With the sports bag faithfully sticking to his shoulder, he hoisted Nettie on her feet and started out of the chilly room. She mumbled a ‘sorry ‘bout that’ and kept her eyes fixed on his face. “Bastian...” Her head dropped to his shoulder. 

Exiting the abandoned house was a slow but steady process. Sebastian did not like having to leave his bike where it was, but having Nettie with him and getting her warm and safe outweighed the importance of the bike. He got his phone out to quickly search for the nearest hotel, one far enough away though that she wouldn’t be tempted to slip out and go back to the site. 

The soiled shirt stuck to his skin and he could smell the vomit occasionally as heat rose from his body. No cab driver would want to pick them up unless he offered a hefty tip he thought. Sebastian walked them away from the site and the bridge where the homeless group had been sat. The top of Nettie’s hat tickled his chin. They could hear traffic from a busier street nearby. Despite the late hour several cars swooped by. Sebastian managed to flag down a cab. They would be memorable no doubt. He didn’t like that. He didn’t even want to think of what the cabbie would assume he had done to her. Explaining the situation wasn’t exactly an option either. Luckily he knew of a hotel that overlooked a hospital. He felt sure that the cabbie’s mind would be eased if he asked him to take them there. The fewer concerns raised the better.

Nettie started coming to in the taxi. She scrunched her nose up at the mess on Sebastian’s clothes but she didn’t comment because she knew it was her fault. She couldn’t help poke him; his arm, leg, staring at him. He really was there, and so was she. Sir Augustus’s games had done a number on her mind, beating it into her that Sebastian was dead. First he had been lost in action, but she found out the truth about that. Then she was told Sebastian had decided to end it himself. She had felt truly abandoned then. She had been right to hold on to the hope, now she was ashamed she had abandoned her instinct.

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part VIII

Sebastian was in the dog house. He knew this because Jim would address him as ‘Moran’ even when they were alone, and jobs were few and far between. The sniper had no clue what he had done to earn that spot out in the cold. It seemed that the master criminal did not even care to make him miserable by sending him to jobs far below his skill level. He merely sort of ignored him. Sebastian waited for this phase to pass. He kept himself busy in other ways, though the rush he usually got from his regular hits faded fast. 

The sniper was an addict looking for a fix. The only thing that made him feel anything other than discomfort was keeping track of Nettie. He had watched her slip back into her old habits after leaving the Wexham Rehabilitation Centre*. She would look tired and walk across the screen very slowly whenever he caught her on CCTV, dragging her feet. She kept hanging around under the same bridge that he had sheltered under as a homeless man. It had become a sort of community for the addicted. Sebastian studied the group of characters that he would see Nettie hang around with, looking for ways to blend in with them as he planned to approach her. They all sort of blended together the longer he stared at the screen, their puffy jackets almost looked like one big piece of stuffed fabric. Sebastian could see himself standing in that circle, sharing a cigarette with the nameless strangers. It had been so many years since he had stood face to face with his sister. So many years that he told himself there would be no chance she would recognise his face. He started working on a new alias. Practised accents and bought ill-fitting clothes from charity shops. In the end he didn’t bother using any of it.

Jim had finally given him a hit, on an evening he knew particularly bad rain would hit. The criminal insisted, with threats of course, that Sebastian perform the hit. In the worst possible conditions. The rain had started the evening before, and it only picked up as the following day progressed. There the sniper was: chilled to the bone, peering down his scope at the blinds covering his target’s window. On the verge of praying for them to open. He was shivering, teeth clenched and focus fixed on humming AC/DC’s Guns For Hire only to avoid the thought of the severe man-flu he would suffer after the hit. Blinds were eventually opened and triggers were pulled. The sniper could barely believe he only needed one shot the way he had been shaking. He could barely feel his thumb touch the screen as he typed the text saying that the job was done. After packing up he felt no urge to go back to the flat. It was time. 

Sebastian swung the sports bag over his shoulder and got on his bike. It wasn’t the best method of transportation but Jim had refused him access to the garage. He would just have to find another spot for the bike while he approached the group gathering under the bridge. Driving it right by them wouldn’t exactly make him a welcomed guest, he assumed.

There was quiet inside his helmet. He had listened to the rain drizzling for so long that it was a relief to block it out. A different cold started to take hold of his bones as he drove to the small homeless community his sister had made herself part of. It was one brought on by something he hadn’t felt in years, fear of rejection. The closer he got the more he wanted to use an alias after all, but a little voice at the back of his mind said no one would believe a lie he himself was not convinced of. Not to mention the bike gear he was wearing. The leather jacket was worn, but it was not something you would find in the ‘donations’ bin.

His hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he walked the way by the river. The dead of night was supposed to help him blend into the surroundings, but the street lamps only made him stick out more. The man in black approaching the low bridge. He kept an eye out for a blonde head of hair and a thing frame. A bad taste settled in his mouth when he thought about the fact that he would be meeting Nettie for the first time in years, with his rifle swung over his shoulder. However, she wouldn’t know what was in the sports bag.

It occurred to him that he did not know who to ask for. He had neglected to find out what name she was going by. She had been smart when they were young, he didn’t see that had changed. She had just made some bad decisions, not unlike himself. Sebastian swore under his breath, cursing the emotional mistake he had made. He had been too wrapped up in worrying about whether or not she wanted to see him, and he had spent too much time working on the alias he wasn’t using.

Sebastian reached a group of men sat together around a stone bench. They looked like they were posing for a teen magazine, trying too hard to look cool and unapproachable. He recognised one of the men as having spoken to Nettie. He had printed a picture of the two of them off the CCTV footage. Upon further inspection Sebastian noticed one of the men was in fact a woman, though the woman was blonde and slim he was not fortunate enough to run into Nettie right away.  “Might wanna keep on walking, mate.” A strong jawed bloke advised him. Sebastian found it difficult to take him seriously because of the bright orange hat he was wearing. “I’m looking for someone.” He wasn’t backing down now. The group all tried to look uninterested and unaffected by his statement. “If you’re looking here, chances are they don’t wanna be found.” Sebastian stepped closer, those ice cold bones in his body vibrated with each step. He felt an urge to reach for his rifle, just for something familiar to hold. The continued warnings were promptly ignored. “She’s blonde, late thirties, blue eyes.” No one batted an eye, so he continued. “Wears a blue jacket, and a white knitted hat.” Still nothing from them. Sebastian deliberated insisting he wasn’t a cop. Though he could threaten to send one over. The sniper sighed. “Her name’s Nettie.” That made the blonde woman speak up. She looked younger than his sister. “She’s at the site.” She got up and started walking, gesturing for Sebastian to follow.

*fictional place

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part VII

It had been two years since that memorable meeting with the strange Irishman, two years of working for him as his hired gun and personal bodyguard. Sebastian did his job efficiently and without question which earned him several perks, like state of the art rifles and the occasional aged bottle of single malt.

Though he spent a lot of time with the master criminal the two men would rarely be seen together outside of closed doors. What went on there was something else entirely. Their relationship was strictly professional until they agreed on a new arrangement. One that saved Sebastian the hassle of having to dispose of a body after every time he’d wanted a shag. Jim called the shots and Sebastian never really found cause to complain. That did not mean he put up with any bullshit from the other man, and though he knew there was a risk of punishment, the sniper never backed down in regards to sharing his honest opinion. He had tried to figure out many times what made Jim so lenient with him, perhaps the no nonsense attitude amused him. The sniper was by no means naive about the Irishman, he was convinced the only hand he would die by was Moriarty’s. They enjoyed toying with the world and they enjoyed doing that together, even if their roles were quite different in the game.

Sebastian did not try to hide the fact that he was keeping track of his sister, Jim had kept track of him before they met that night outside the pub and he probably knew more than he hinted at. And of course the two men rarely spoke of their respective families other than to curse them.

Sebastian observed and sucked up information like a sponge when it came to hacking, it would never be his specialist subject of course, he knew that, but he got better because he needed to learn. The sniper was good enough that he wouldn't leave trace. In Moriarty’s eyes that would have meant putting a bullet in the sniper’s head. Oh, the irony.

The sniper despised the criminal for sending him abroad before that day on St Bart’s roof, for disappearing on him and for making him hold on to what was left of the empire while grieving a living man believed to be dead. It was all that bloody detective’s fault. The two enemies were more alike than Holmes would admit, they both deceived the people who cared about them most. Sebastian drank every drop that crossed his path and lost track of a lot of things in the middle of his apathy, including his sister. For a whole year Sebastian would start every morning by giving the handgun on his bedside table a contemplative glance.

When the criminal resurfaced, alive and well, the sniper’s entire body buzzed and the only impulse that made any sense was to strangle the Irishman. Even then Jim gave him that stupid smirk and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, no fear at all. He had obviously predicted that reaction. Sebastian loathed being predictable but Jim knew him too well. He went through the five stages of grief all over again, and a month later when he had calmed down enough not to want to choke the criminal at the sight of him, they resumed their work. A new game.

Sebastian looked for Nettie in every place he could think of, coming up with nothing. After she left Wexham Rehabilitation Centre* she too disappeared. Sebastian didn't understand how it was possible. He devoted most of his free time to tracing her. He had been too busy wallowing and being angry, and had ignored the possibility of Nettie ever leaving the centre. He did not get in touch with their mother, she wouldn't know anything.

After weeks of searching he finally saw her, city surveillance spotted Nettie under the bridge Sebastian himself had spent several nights under as a homeless man. By the looks of it she was following in his steps. Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked away from the computer screen. He saw the state she was in and he recognised it all too well. His hand reached for the coffee mug next to the laptop but he couldn't bring himself to drinking the now cold coffee. The sandwich he had made did not seem appetizing either. Sebastian closed the laptop and fled the room.

He walked around Hyde Park and continued through the city until the chilly winds made him dodge into a café. When he got back to the flat he laughed about choosing that particular café because who should he run into if not a copy of the very face he wanted to distract himself from. They had talked for a long time, several hours, and he could tell that the woman sensed he was looking at her in an odd way. For some reason she was the type of person that instilled confidence and trust in him. He called her Coffee Girl, later he found out that her name was Adriana. The resemblance between her and Nettie scared him, as much as a man like him could be scared. She was younger, of course, clean. And a police officer. That alone had made Sebastian laugh. He liked her right away, liked talking to her. She was the next best thing to talking to his sister. He was still working up the nerve to show himself to Nettie. This Coffee Girl was the first sort of friend he’d had in years. He didn't know how well they could get to know each other when one of them was using an alias. Though the sniper gave his alias a similar background to his own, the first rule of lying, keep it simple and stick as close to the truth as possible. The changes were minor and his real identity had been wiped by Jim upon hiring him.

The thought occurred to him that he may just be using her as a substitute for Nettie and he wasn't proud of that. She saw the scars and she didn't judge him for them or seem frightened. Sure she asked questions and he answered most to the best of his abilities. The more they saw of each other the more he made an effort to really know her. They both had issues, that much was clear. They seemed to act as therapy for each other. Sebastian thought she was the closest he would ever get to a taste of a normal person’s life. They were more than their jobs, more than the scars on their bodies.

Sebastian made a decision. He would wait for the best opportunity and step out of the shadows to face Nettie, to stop her before she did any more harm to herself. Jim didn't understand the efforts he went to for these women, but he didn't need to. Sebastian thought he had found something good, someone he wished to meet all those lonely days at Eton and Oxford, a second sister and a friend. Whether she agreed or not, he didn't know. It wasn't just the resemblance that made him think of the Coffee Girl as family. She seemed to do what no one else did. She cared unconditionally. That surprised him.

*fictional place

@dc-masha 

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part VI

The Wexham Rehabilitation Centre* became a fixed mark in the back of Sebastian’s mind, gnawing at him. His mother couldn't, or wouldn't, tell him when Nettie might be discharged from the facility so the sniper made a point to keep track of his sister with the means he had at his disposal. He may have lacked friends but he did not lack contacts, the sniper called in favours from former army fellows because without money he couldn't convince anyone by way of bribe. There was always the threat of a bullet from his rifle finding its way into their skulls but Sebastian did not like to issue said threat too many times without making good on it, and right now he needed those men alive.

It was no easy job but he found himself wanting to learn more from the hackers so that he could track Nettie better by himself, he picked up a few tricks that would prove useful and paired with his skill in forgery he could gain access to online medical records. It was all he could do without attaching a GPS locator to his sister. So long as she was at the centre he knew she would be fairly safe. 

Himself on the other had he had less concern for. He was never one for calm water so taking the first job he happened upon as a gun for hire suited him just fine. In the underground movement his reputation very much preceded him. Whenever a fair bit of money came in his possession he would spend a few glorious nights in a hotel, drinking until his liver refused to be part of the binge any longer.

On one such occasion Sebastian had spent an entire day in the same run down pub, chatting to the barman and alternating whiskey with trips to the gents. When closing time came around Sebastian was not ready to leave. The barman eventually chucked him out by way of force and the former Colonel wobbled down the street in search for a pub with friendlier staff and accommodating opening hours, perhaps even food because he really was starving. 

With a cigarette at the corner of his mouth he entered an eerily quiet pub. “Fuckin’ hell, what’s come over you lot?” He commented with a snort as he took a seat by the bar and ordered another shot of whiskey, it really was the only substance that gave him any warmth. A hand tapped him on the shoulder and Sebastian registered someone talking in a deep voice, he didn't really care to listen but the words ‘no smoking’ and a whiny ‘don’t appreciate your tone’ filtered through his somber state. He kindly asked the speaker to shut his gob, which was the last thing he remembered before he found himself on the floor. Adrenaline kicked in right after a brief fit of laughter. The sniper got up with the help of a barstool and flung himself at the nearest figure resembling a man. The man in question responded by taking a hold of the sniper and then furniture started to break apart. One part of his brain was still laughing while another thanked mercy that Nettie was not there to see him like that. Oh, he would enjoy destroying this brute, he certainly believed he could. The whole thing felt like a scene he had witnessed earlier at a bar in the middle-east, as a soldier. Sebastian simply replicated his own movements then but unfortunately they did not match what was going on in the pub. He may have landed a punch to the face of a man who he would never had guessed would be of a violent nature, but that was the thing about people, you never could tell, especially when extremely drunk. Sebastian ducked out of the way of one punch only to be hit by another. Clearly it had become a team effort now and he was outnumbered. He was also thwarted by his own body as his legs gave out and the team of men took it upon themselves to throw the intruder out of their pub. With an arm each under his they dragged him out and dropped him on the pavement. 

Sebastian frowned because as he heard footsteps walking away he was in fact staring at a pair of expensive looking shoes. He tried to look up to see whose feet he had landed at but was forced to abandon the attempt when his stomach decided to object to containing everything he wanted to store in it, this with very little warning. So little in fact that the shoes he had landed by took most of the consequences of the sniper’s rebellious stomach. Sebastian swore and spat only to look up, successfully this time, at a man with a disgusted expression on his face. The Irish accent was unmistakable when he spoke.

“Pitiful, Moran. I had hoped you were better than this.” 

Sebastian snarled at the man, who when he got up he noticed wasn't nearly as tall as he’d expected while laying on the ground. With his pride wounded and the fighting spirit still in him Sebastian made a show of brushing passed the man, bumping into his shoulder with excessive force.

“Bloody hell do you know, y’twat?” “Find me when you have sobered up. I expect you to replace these shoes within a week. That is more time than you are worth, by far.” “Now listen here y’little leprechaun- “ but the sniper was silenced by a stinging slap to his cheek before a silver BMW pulled up and the well-dressed Irishman got in. “Rather beneath you to resort to name-calling, Moran. I will remember that too.” the man paused. “Be a good boy and go sleep it off. Time’s a tickin’, remember that.” the window came back up, tinted of course, and the car drove away, leaving the sniper standing in front of his own vomit. Sebastian scrunched up his face, wishing he had a rock to throw after the car. 

He dragged his feet down the street, keeping a sobering eye out for anyone following him. He had no idea who he now owed a new pair of shoes to or how this man knew who he was, though he could guess of course. Nevertheless, he had not looked like the type who kept track of disgraced soldiers. “Prick! Whole lot of ‘em too!” he looked behind him though the pub was now long gone.

By little short of a miracle Sebastian found his way back to the hotel he was staying at, it took him all of two seconds to fall asleep once his head had hit the pillow. Waking up in the morning he wished those patrons at the pub would have finished him off so he didn't have to deal with the hangover. He stripped down to take a bath and found a sleek business card in his pocket that he did not remember taking or being given. The Irishman came to mind and the way he flaunted his wealth. The sniper supposed it might be worth tracking down a man with money.

*fictional place

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part V

“No. No! Get him out of my house right this second!” Sir Augustus came huffing out of his office. An unsuspecting servant had opened the door to Sebastian, who was standing in the hall with the same small bag of belongings that he had left with all those years ago. He watched the older Moran throw his fit. Sebastian had only come to see Nettie, possibly ask her to leave with him because their parents had no power over her anymore, even if she was still staying under their roof. Unfortunately Sebastian would find that he had been wrong as Natalie Moran was said to have been sent to Paris where she was visiting family friends and would not be back any time soon. He took comfort in knowing that at least she was out of their father’s grasp.

Dishonourably discharged and jailed was the sentence that made Augustus Moran deny he had ever fathered a son. The moment word had reached the Islington home Sebastian was declared dead. He was nothing but a stranger intruding on their property. Sebastian did not plead or beg for forgiveness, he did not want it. He had a good mind to piss on Sir Augustus’ shoes but unfortunately he had already relieved himself before going to the house.

“Get out of here, you little shit! There is nothing for you here.” the older man roared. His face was bright red and Sebastian could see that he had gained weight, together with a considerable amount of grey hairs. For a brief moment he entertained the idea of trying to induce a heart attack but how does one do that in a man with no heart? Sebastian merely mirrored his father’s disgusted gaze and left the house without another word to him. He walked around the property when he was sure that he would not be seen and searched the windows for a glimpse of his mother. He was by no means a religious man but he silently prayed the old man had not done away with her in his absence.

Night came and he could safely climb up to the balcony without being spotted, as if he were some sort of Oedipus twisted version of Romeo. Climbing around the façade he found her in the small library, a dimly lit room with a lot of mahogany bookcases. If at all possible she looked even paler than he remembered, perhaps it was just the bad lighting or perhaps he was imagining it. He knew there was no way of not scaring her where she sat reading and so he simply took the plunge and knocked quietly on the window. They had not spoken in years and he could not even guess what she thought of him anymore. Despite claiming to have abandoned all hope of any affection from his family Sebastian still wanted to be in his mother’s good books. She jumped of course, and squinted at the window. As soon as she saw who it was she got up and walked away. Sebastian thought she did not wish to see him but instead of exiting the room she closed the heavy door. She then turned and crossed the room to let him in. Standing there barely inside the room she looked at him, really looked at him. Somewhere beneath the scarred surface was her son, whom she’d barely been given a chance to raise, let alone love. She held him by the shoulders and pulled him into the library, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t know how many times I feared that you had died, you inconsiderate boy. Especially after you stopped writing.” Sebastian’s eyebrows show up at that.

“Did she get them?”

“No.”

The frail woman in front of him stepped away, stopping in front of one of the cases and retrieved three volumes he failed to note the titles of. She opened one for him, revealing hollowed out pages where in the place of a story unopened letters lay.

“I hid as many as I could. I don’t know if these are all of them.” She quickly closed the book and started placing the three volumes back on the shelf.

“Where is she? What’s he done with her? France?” He had more questions, of course but these would do as a start.

“You sound different. Paris is what we tell people, your father’s friends.” the tone in her voice suggested they were everything else but friendly. “She is at Wexham Rehabilitation Centre*.”

“For what?”

“She’s not well, Sebastian. She hasn't been in a long time.” Those were the words spoken by a woman who looked as if she had one foot in the grave already. Oh, the irony. Sebastian hissed.

“Why didn't anyone tell me?”

“Dear, I have sent letters to every corner of the world that they said you were in. Did you not get them?” His stern face answered the question well enough.

“I’ll go there, then. Give me the letters, please. I want her to read them.”

“I don’t think you should, dear. It will only make her worse.”

“What are you on about, she’ll be glad to see me.”

A shake of her head was the only reply he got for a while. Sir Augustus had seen fit to inform Nettie her brother had died in battle, only to find she’d accidentally stumbled upon the truth. Having confronted her father about it the man banished her from the house for ‘snooping around’. And the grieving process did not agree with her. The hopes she’d held onto of seeing her brother again shattered and it nearly killed her spirit.  She sought comfort wherever she could find it.

Sir Augustus was retired of course however it did not stop him from reaching out to his friends in the judiciary system, and arranging to have the shame upon their family removed in an unruly prison riot. Sebastian was not as easy to get rid of as he had hoped but it did not hinder him from once again informing his daughter of her brother’s death. Why she believed him again Sebastian would never understand.

She had turned violent during her time out of their Islington home and was prone to making emotional outbursts at anyone who got on her bad side. Making formal appearances with her mother once she was allowed back into the house became something Nettie loathed, the chains of society became fragile in their hold on her and upon realising she could, she broke them. When her friends turned their backs on her, she got some new friends with questionable morals.

Sebastian sat down in an arm chair after his mother finished her story.

“She still thinks I'm dead?”

“Yes.”

Perhaps it was best to leave it that way. He did not want to play with her fragile sanity but on the other hand, he did not intend to let Sir Augustus tear them away from each other.

AN: *fictional place, obviously

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part IV

Despite the uncertainty of his letters reaching Nettie, for they would no doubt reach the house but what Sir Augustus did with them was another matter, Sebastian wrote his sister. Once a week during his training, they were his secret journal that the rest of the recruits did not know about. Simply because the letters left the premises as soon as they were written. It kept him sane. Sebastian told her of the day to day routine and asked her what she was doing, because it felt natural to ask questions in return. 

He wrote of his ever growing hatred toward their father, should the elder Moran read the letters, unlikely though it seemed, Sebastian didn't think there was much else he could do that would make his situation worse. Of course having considered the thought over and over the young man came to the conclusion that the ingenuity of Sir Augustus’ cruelty knew no bounds.

And so came the day when he had to make a choice. Sebastian was safe where he had been placed, feeding the other soldiers and the rest of the military complex staff. Peeling potatoes did not quite rid him of the anger he had built up over the years. He never wrote Nettie to say that he would join the ranks as a sniper, she might think it grotesque of him. At least he had an aim, and Sebastian was prepared to do whatever he had to do to get there.

Once a week then became once a month. It was not that he had less to say or that he had gotten discouraged because he never received a reply to the letters he sent. Perhaps he was making excuses, but he finally had an ambition, one that demanded a lot of time and practice. Sebastian did not try to make any friends, he had been taught enough lessons to know they wouldn't stick around. In addition they would be shipped to an active war zone, and death was a sure way to know they would not stick around. Still, the young man put on a pleasant front. His face was fixed in an expression that said he was approachable but would not stay and listen if the subject did not interest him.

The three letters a month that he never wrote stayed in his mind and became stories that he promised himself he would tell Nettie the next time he saw her, of course he did not know then that it would be another twenty years before they were even in the same country. He stopped writing entirely and his focus shifted to becoming the best soldier that he could be. Not because he wanted to be an asset or useful to his country, nor because he wanted the fame and glory, very well perhaps there was a little vanity involved, but he wanted to be the best simply so that he could claim it and it would be the truth. Everything else that came with it was just an added bonus. 

Sebastian climbed the ranks and he would catch himself feeling excited to tell Nettie about it. It was accompanied by a sadness when he realised he did not even know what she looked like any longer. The money never lasted, he would spend it playing cards or drinking. Curiously he never had to spend it on women, or men for that matter. They would always come to him.  His fellow soldiers gained stock in the eyes of the prostitutes simply by mentioning they were close friends with the increasingly ferocious soldier. Now if that did not do something for his vanity nothing would. Basher Moran would drink them under the table, win big at cards because he was good, there was never any talk of him being a cheat, or if there were it did not last for long, and the Basher Moran Special was all the rage though no one seemed to be able to explain it in any great detail. At times his reputation preceded him and when he walked fully uniformed into a seedy bar anyone reading the name ‘Moran’ stitched to his chest would do one of three things; buy him a drink, challenge him to a fight or offer a shag in the dark alley behind the bar. The sniper was always equally surprised to make it out of a bar without a bullet between his eyes, or anywhere else in him for that matter. Once he had felt death breathing down his neck it didn't seem to matter when the wretched thing came to claim him, so long as he had his share of fun first.

At the start of his army career it had been made clear to him that a so called posh upbringing would not earn him any respect and did not need to be bragged about. In fact, before Sebastian had revealed too much of himself he was speaking in a completely different accent and denied any allegations that said he was a relation of the great diplomat Sir Augustus Moran. He felt it would help if his new life could be made bearable, compared to what he had put up with growing up. Beating another soldier to a pulp in order to shut him up was probably frowned upon. He didn't see it as taking the coward’s way out, if he could have smooth sails then why not? 

Sebastian used his days of leave to go game hunting. The irony was not lost on him, to return to weapons on the few occasions he did not have to use them. Sebastian never shot any of the animals, he only wanted to see them up close. The adrenaline rush was enough. Sure, he fired at them but he would always miss by that much. 

The story of how he had fought a tiger was greatly exaggerated and got more and more misquoted as the years went by. It wasn't in the jungle at all, and he did not pursue it for its hide. The tiger in question was an escaped zoo animal that threatened the soldiers’ camp as well as civilians in the area. Colonel Moran was put in charge to track it down for it was said that he had experience with it. The operation was rather last minute and rushed. By the time Sebastian got to the tiger it had already mauled another soldier defending itself, thrashing menacingly at anyone it saw. Sebastian stopped in the tiger’s path, keeping a group of civilians safe. He cursed them under his breath for putting themselves in harm’s way. For his sacrifice he was adorned with three parallel claw marks down his chest, and a scar splitting his left eyebrow in two. Sheer luck allowed him to dodge the tiger’s paw, otherwise his guts and blood would have been painting the ground red, and the sniper’s story would have been over. As if it was a number choreographed by the circus Sebastian found his knife just in time. There was a collective gasp followed by a moment of silence as the tiger landed on top of him laying still for a long time before anyone dared move it off him. Only then was it clear who had come out of the fight victorious. It was a story he would be sure to share with Nettie.

[colmoranspecial]

Nettie - Part III

Sebastian dragged his feet on his way out of his father’s office. He refused to look at the tyrant who’d tightened the already burning noose around his neck, and he certainly wasn't going to meet the pompous gaze of that Colonel. The young man sauntered out into the hall, he stared at the floor and tried to block out the quickening beat of his heart. A bag would be packed for him, he knew that without needing to hear the order. 

A hand landed on his shoulder and kept him in place with a grip that felt like it drained the area of blood. Sebastian shook his head, barely visible at first but then the motion became more and more obvious. “No!” the hand was pried off his shoulder, with what strength he didn't know. The two older men looked gob smacked, had he been in a better mood it would have made Sebastian laugh to see the stupid looks on their faces. Did they really think he wouldn't put up at least a bit of a fight, given his history? One conversation wouldn't change his ‘wicked’ ways.

While Sir Augustus and the Colonel were still in shock, as much as they could be, Sebastian dashed up the stairs determined to make it to Nettie’s room. Anyone who got in his way would be floored by a rugby tackle. He could only hope that Nettie hadn't taken refuge anywhere else. Then it dawned on him. He’d seen her running in the other direction, just as he came into the house. She must be hiding in his room. If only he knew how often she did that.

The household staff were yet to arrive with the bag to be packed with essentials. Sebastian had to thank every deity that would listen for that kind of luck. He opened the door to his bedroom silently. There was a strange scent to the room he thought, something clean and old about it at the same time. A few personal items stood on the dresser and he knew the desk drawers were full of his notebooks and various mementos he had collected over the years; marbles and the one Valentine’s note he’d ever received. Silly things really. The bed was made but the outline of a small body having laid there was visible. It was more like his tomb than his bedroom, a shrine to the son that never was; lacking in proof of achievements worth being proud of. 

Sebastian frowned, now he wouldn't have summer vacations or Christmas breaks at which to come see Nettie. He didn't have a home anymore. The notion of home at all seemed very foreign to him. If it wasn't for his younger sister he wouldn't have wanted to set foot in that house at all. Now she would be all alone there. He’d write, of course. But what was to say Sir Augustus would let her read his letters, the man would no doubt intercept them. Sebastian didn't have anyone in the area he could write to and ask to pass letters on to his sister.

“Nettie?” His blue eyes searched the room for a sign of a hiding place. The only logical option seemed to be the closet. Sebastian went to turn the door knob and was met with resistance. “Nettie, please. Open the door. They’re going to take me away and I won’t see you for a long time.” He realised those weren't the most comforting words but he wouldn't lie to her. “It’s now or never.” he prompted. The plea was answered with silence, then a click of the lock could be heard. Sebastian forced a smile as he looked at the thunderous face of his little sister. Her cheeks had gone puffy and her eyes held a slight tint of red. “I hate you.” she proclaimed. “No you don’t.” Sebastian stepped into the closet with her and locked the door again to buy them more time. He sat down on the floor and looked up at Nettie. She looked even more like their mother than he did. They played a silent and stubborn game of staring. Nettie finally gave in and hugged him. Sebastian wrapped his arms around her. No questions needed to be asked, she knew he couldn't stay and that it was impossible for her to come with him. Sebastian wasn't the type to give her a last minute motivational speech either. 

As they could hear steps approach the room he only said one thing to her. “Don’t let him keep you from doing what you want to do, or he wins.” to which the young girl nodded. The closet door yielded after a few jabs at it with a heavy shoulder. A servant stood in the door, stepping aside only to have Sebastian yanked out by the Colonel. The man was unamused and indeed unmoved by his stunt. Sebastian fought him strictly out of principle, sticking his feet into the carpet. Bit by bit, however, he was dragged back downstairs and out into the huge car waiting. Colonel Davies and Sir Augustus stood by the car and waited while the bag got packed for Sebastian.

He leaned forward closer to the car window, trying to get a glimpse of Nettie in the upstairs windows, it was easier said than done as he didn't know which room she had run to next. There was no sign of their mother which caused Sebastian to suspect Sir Augustus had done something awful to her. It wasn't enough that his mere presence seemed to suck the life out of her. It was beyond the young man why she had not run years ago. He supposed she was too concerned with keeping up appearances and didn't wish to disgrace the family, oh no, that was Sebastian’s job.

Steps came slowly down the gravel path and a suit case was placed in the boot of the car. Sebastian looked up at the house, insisting on trying to catch even the slightest glimpse of his sister, as Colonel Davies’ got in the driver’s seat. 

Had Sebastian had any brains he would have grabbed something sharp and small enough from his room, to be hidden up his sleeve, but he had been too overcome by emotion and spent the time hugging instead of coming up with an escape plan. Of course, deep down, he couldn't say he regretted it. Another lesson learned for the young Moran, and the army would have many more to teach him.