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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 don't care.
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[Said with a kind of childish impetuous tone of someone who knows he should do something but really doesn't want to.]
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[He's not moving.]
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[There's still a touch of sadness in his voice as he pulls back, and the expression on his face as he looks up at Eames is just tired.]
I need... I need you to just...
[He frowns and shakes his head because he can't work out exactly what it is he wants to say let alone get it out.]
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Let's swap.
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I'm sorry. I shouldn't need you to do this.
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[Eames wraps his arms around Arthur's waist and sighs softly, letting a hand drift down to Arthur's hip, thumb tracing circles lightly.]
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[Arthur puts his hand on Eames’ chest, looking down at it with a frown.]
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There's nothing wrong with wanting some comfort. It's okay.
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Can you, um... hold me tighter, please.
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Mm, already?
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[He presses a quick kiss to Arthur's hair.]
Time to fuel up.
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Sorry - didn’t mean to fall asleep.
[He sits up to look at the displays, immediately mourning the lack of contact.]
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I didn't mind.
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I miss this.
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My face?
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We haven’t been sleeping together much - I miss you holding me like this.
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Arthur, I'm still... I can still do this.
[It feels like the stupidest thing he's ever said, which probably contributes to why he's still not looking at Arthur.]
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