Kitten no longer slept on a bed on the floor. She no longer ate from the dish that was placed inside her room every morning and night. Kitten wasn't even called "Kitten" anymore; she was called Kit for short.
Kit now slept in a full size king bed, with the king himself.
It had taken exactly 4 weeks and 3 days for Jim Moriarty to fall in love with his pet. Although, she didn't know that. He tried to hide it by being rude to her at times and degrading her back to an animal standard, but he always ended up more amazed by her. No matter what he said, or what he did, she took it like a champ. No tears. No sniffling. Just an emotionless expression and a look far off in her eye that screamed strength and power.
And it was that look which prompted him to take her on her first kill with him.
It was the middle of autumn, leaves changing, constant rains, and the smell of chimney smoke filling the air. Of course, that's not what Jim or Kit was smelling at the moment.
They smelled the sweetness of puke, the bitterness of blood, and the shakiness of sweat. Screams littered their ears, and Jim welcomed the sound like an old friend. "Feels good to be back," he whispered to himself, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and finally feeling at complete peace.
"What is this place?" asked Kit. She rarely talked, but when she did it was full and brave. He loved to hear her talk.
"Home away from home," said Jim while pulling on the string of a lightbulb. A warm glow cast itself over the small cement room, and Kit's eyes landed on the man tied down to a chair. He was placed in the center of the room, and as his eyes landed on Jim, he began screaming and struggling. A rag covered his mouth, so his words were obscured.
"Who is he?" asked Kit, her eyes alive with fire. It felt good to see a man tied up and placed in a position she had been in many times before.
"A dead man walking," chuckled Jim, his voice flowing high.
The man's eyes found Kit, and they suddenly turned soft and pleading. She just stared. Oh how many times she had pleaded and cried and kicked, but she was never released. Suddenly a cool metal was pressed into her palm. She glanced down.
A semi-automatic pistol. It glimmered jet black. It felt smooth to the touch. She clutched it tight.
Kit looked up to Jim who was standing right in front of her, a wild look in his eyes. "I imagine you know what do," he said, fighting an evil giggle.
Kit just nodded. She had seen it done many times before.
She cocked back the gun, all the while staring into the black circles of Jim's eyes, which she found mesmerizing since the first day he had adopted her.
"Go on," urged Jim. He still stood close, his breath punctuating her space and sending tingles down her spine.
Kit had never been one for love. She could count on one hand the number of people in which she could constitute a feeling of love for, one which one in this very room. This very lack of love is what made it so easy for her to aim and pull the trigger at the man who had a wife and kids waiting at home for him. Maybe now they would understand what she had felt her whole life.
Kit had been so lost in her thoughts that she did not hear the gun go off, or the gurgling of the man in his last breaths, or the ringing that was left in her ears, or feel the smile that had formed on her lips. The only thing she heard was a familiar tangle of letters and sounds that she had not been called for quite sometime.
"(Y/n)." It was a quiet exhale of her name, barely audible, but loud enough for her to turn around and lock eyes with the man who had said it.
"You said my name," she breathed breathlessly, dropping the gun to the floor. She was in shock. After she had told Jim her name the first time he had pretended he hadn't heard it and she was locked up for a week with only one meal a day.
Little did she know that the sound of her name had sent a spike of feeling through Jim Moriarty that he had never felt before. The feeling was so strong that it shook his entire insides and made him gasp for breath. It had scared him, to say the least.
But now, saying her name out loud had released something in him, like a final curtain revealing his deepest desire, which of course was her. "(Y/n)," he said again, this time taking a step towards her. She said nothing, just stared at him captivating dark eyes. He took another step. Then another. Then another.
And then they were kissing and hugging and breathing and smiling. And Kit felt dizzy, not from the shock of his actions, but from the way her body felt like it was crumbling and melting and boiling, all at the same time.
Is this love?
She did not know if she had said it out loud, or maybe they were just so connected that he could read her thoughts, but Jim whispered reassuringly into her ear as the smell of blood littered the air, "Yes. It is."
A/N
Surprise childs of mine.
Another update.
Nothing new has happened in my life since 15 hours ago when I last updated...
ANYWHO
Random: (Complete this)
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I got "Asking questions with Greg Lestrade while holding a silly hat will lead to falling off a building"
"Why not go out on a limb? That's where all the fruit is." - Mark Twain
