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maybe we show some mercy
[Usually, facing your fears means discovering they're not as bad as they seemed in your head. That your mind catastrophises and exaggerates and the reality is nowhere near what it seemed. Eames certainly wishes that were the case here, but it turns out the reality is far worse than anything that crossed his mind. He'd long since come to terms with the idea that getting caught meant death, but the captain of this discreet little crew made a point of talking about "re-education" with such conviction that it seems like a very real possibility. A real possibility that terrifies Eames in ways he didn't even know he could feel.]
[It's hard not to be mad at himself, and in fact he is. He's fucking furious. Years of being meticulous about hiding from the Empire rendered obsolete because some asshole wanted to make some quick money and Eames hadn't spotted the signs even though that's exactly the kind of thing he's supposed to be good at. And now here he is, bound in a cell on a ship, no idea how long he's been here or where they are — no idea about much of anything outside this room, actually — pumped full of power inhibitors to make doubly sure he can't escape.]
[Fucking hell but it hurts. Hands cuffed behind his back, made to stay on his knees for... A long time. Simultaneously can't feel his legs and yet the muscles burn and ache. All of him a mess of cuts and bruises, a mix of injuries from fighting back and some from cruelty passed off as discipline. He thinks his nose might be broken and one of his eyes is swollen into a semi-permanant squint. The longer he kneels here, the more Eames thinks the inhibitor injections were less about preventing escape and more about making sure he couldn't heal away the beatings; making sure he'd suffer through every moment of the trip "home."]
[It's hard not to be mad at himself, and in fact he is. He's fucking furious. Years of being meticulous about hiding from the Empire rendered obsolete because some asshole wanted to make some quick money and Eames hadn't spotted the signs even though that's exactly the kind of thing he's supposed to be good at. And now here he is, bound in a cell on a ship, no idea how long he's been here or where they are — no idea about much of anything outside this room, actually — pumped full of power inhibitors to make doubly sure he can't escape.]
[Fucking hell but it hurts. Hands cuffed behind his back, made to stay on his knees for... A long time. Simultaneously can't feel his legs and yet the muscles burn and ache. All of him a mess of cuts and bruises, a mix of injuries from fighting back and some from cruelty passed off as discipline. He thinks his nose might be broken and one of his eyes is swollen into a semi-permanant squint. The longer he kneels here, the more Eames thinks the inhibitor injections were less about preventing escape and more about making sure he couldn't heal away the beatings; making sure he'd suffer through every moment of the trip "home."]
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I'm fine, I'm awake.
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[Arthur's tone is steady. Eames has been understandably off since Arthur rescued him, but now it seems that he's trying to convince himself he's better and Arthur can tell it's quite the opposite.]
Come on, I'll lay down with you if you want.
[He knows what the answer to that is going to be but he also hopes the prospect of spooning might entice him to bed.]
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[The thought of laying down with Arthur sounds really good, but something about it makes his heart race and his breathing just a little faster too.]
I should keep an eye out, just in case. I know what to look for.
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[He brings a hand up to Eames' jaw.]
Just go lie down. I know what to look for too; we've been over it a million times.
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You want me to come with you? I can put us in stealth mode.
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[Arthur puts his hand on Eames' chest, trying to strike a balance between a calming weight and making sure he doesn't feel restrained.]
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[He's so sick of this.]
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Well, at least you got a little bit of sleep.
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[He pushes his hands through his hair and sighs heavily.]
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Is there anything I can do about this? There's got to be someone you can see or... I don't know, some drug you can take so you can at least get some rest.
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[And even if he did, that all sounds awful to him. Like admitting weakness. He's fine, this is fine.]
It's fine, they'll go away soon.
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I don't know, I don't think they've gotten that much better...
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[Probably because he's sleeping less too.]
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I'm gonna go check everything's okay.
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[Eames stays where he is, contemplating trying to get a bit more sleep without Arthur here.]
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