ruffians | maybe we show some mercy

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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."]

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[Oh, right. Eames swallows and looks away, frowning. He hadn't even considered the knock-on effect his not sleeping would have on Arthur.]

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.]

I know you can, but...

[Arthur feels a little foolish, sitting here in Eames' lap talking about how they don't cuddle enough anymore. Still he can't bear to get up just yet.]

It's just not happening much anymore.

[He sighs heavily and shakes his head.]

You only have to ask..

I never had to before.

[There’s a touch of imaptience in his voice as he slides off Eames’ lap, looking at the instruments and displays as if he’s going to find something to busy himself with, but he shakes his head instead.]

I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish. I’m— I almost lost you, okay? I’m trying to give you space but I need you.

I know, I'm sorry.

[Now Arthur's not looking at him, Eames lifts his head to watch his back as Arthur does whatever, expression sad and guilty.]

I don't know how long... [No, not that. He shakes his head and tries again.] I'll always come if you ask me to.

[Arthur shakes his head, a bitter look on his face.]

I don’t want to have to ask.

[He looks at the doorway leading out of the cockpit, wondering if it would be better to leave so he can fight back the limp in his throat alone.]

[Well that guilt immediately swaps out for something much more annoyed and impatient.]

And you think I do? Is that it?

No, of course not.

[Arthur spits his words back at Eames with a contemptuous glare before he looks away again. He wishes he could understand why loving this man overwhelms him like this sometimes, pushes him beyond being able to control his emotions.]

I do think you’re ignoring all of this and hoping it goes away.

Well I'm sorry I'm not recovering fast enough for you.

[Eames' eyes narrow in anger for a moment before he pushes himself up and out of the chair. About ready to storm out of the cockpit and be anywhere other than around Arthur right now.]

[Arthur throws his hands up and raises his voice in spite of himself.]

It feels like you’re not trying to recover at all!

Are you kidding?

[Eames, on the other hand, lowers his voice in response. Furious at Arthur right now.]

Every waking moment is me trying to figure out how to get on with my life knowing-- [He cuts himself off and shakes his head, swallowing hard before he continues.] I am trying, okay? I'm sorry it's inconvenient for you.

[This time he does actually turn and move to walk out of the cockpit.]

[Arthur doesn't go after him or try to call him back, he just watches Eames leave with his jaw set hard. He feels guilty because he knows Eames is suffering right now. He knows he can't even begin to understand how terrible Eames must feel. But part of him feels validated too - Eames walking out of here just feels like another example of him not facing his problems the way Arthur thinks he should, thinks he needs to if he's going to heal. Arthur knows it's selfish but he's also worried about Eames. He wants to see him move forward for both of their sakes.]

[None of that's going to be said, though. Arthur's just going to sit down and start their descent onto the planet's surface, eager to see another lifeform that won't make him feel so crazy.]

[Eames doesn't really know what to do with himself. He's angry and upset and hurt and he ends up stewing on it the entirety of the descent, pacing the kitchen with heavy footsteps like an animal wanting to be let out of its cage.]

[It's not an inaccurate comparison, because the second he feels the ship slow and the landing gear start up, Eames is moving to the exit to get off this ship ASAP.]

[Arthur's doing his best to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, reviewing the exact amount he ordered and who to talk to and the price they agreed on to make sure he doesn't get swindled. He's not aware that Eames is waiting at the door when they touch down and he unlocks the hatches.]

[Well then Arthur's probably going to be surprised to discover Eames leaving the ship immediately. Storming out into the port with a deep-set scowl on his face.]

[He doesn't end up going far though. He just about gets off the landing zone before his awareness of all the people around becomes a weight he can't shake off. It's a small station, there's not a lot of people here, but it's enough to have Eames slowing to a stop and watch them go about their business. Not people watching, not really. More of a threat assessment.]

[Arthur is a little surprised to see Eames' back when he heads out and it gives him a moment's pause, but he opts to keep walking past him toward the nearby station to get someone to start the fueling up process. He gives Eames a look over his shoulder, a mixture of worry and confusion in his expression, but he keeps walking. As much as he's suddenly anxious about what Eames might do he really wants to make sure they can move on quickly if they need to. It's good to be out of the ship but it's equally stressful.]

[Eames stays still, watching. Eyes hard as he tries to keep focus and watch for the slightest hint that somebody might not be what they look like; bodies that don't move quite right, markings or colouration that aren't naturally occurring.]

[Rationally, he knows this is ridiculous. That the only people who'd care enough were on that ship, and they wouldn't be able to get here before them. But it doesn't stop the way his hand twitches for his holster when somebody's gaze lingers on him a fraction too long.]

[Arthur comes out from the station with an attendant in tow and he's not surprised to see Eames still standing there but it is cause for a little concern. He hesitates a moment, but he stops next to Eames on the way back to the ship and bows his head to murmur softly, a touch pleading.]

Eames, come on, you're drawing attention to yourself.

It's fine.

[He doesn't glance in Arthur's direction or even really acknowledge him in any way.]

I'm just keeping watch.

You look like you're ready to kill someone.

[Arthur looks back at the ship - the attendant's going to need him to open up the fuel tank soon and he's not sure Eames can be moved right now. It's worth trying, though.]

Well, maybe if we get this finished quickly I won't have to.

[He turns his head to look at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. It's not a joke.]

[Arthur meets Eames' gaze with a frown, stubborn and hurt at the same time. He turns to go, but does turn his head at the last minute to say over his shoulder:]

The guards'll apprehend us if you cause trouble.

We'll be fine.

[Better dealing with some guards than potential alternatives anyway. But he doesn't shoot anyone, Arthur will be pleased to know. Even if a couple of peoole make him really consider it.]

[Arthur directs the attendant politely but does let them know that they're in a bit of a rush, and when a second attendant arrives with a crate of food and supplies he just leads them into the ship and then ushers them out unhappily telling them he'll unload it himself. All in all with the high pressure pump they have for the fuel it's about twenty minutes of Arthur glancing nervously at Eames and smiling tightly at everyone he has to interact with. It certainly makes their stay on this planet far more stressful than it needed to be.]

[When they're all done and the attendant is putting away the pump Arthur calls Eames' name to indicate that they can start making moves to leave.]

[Eames eyeballs the attendant on his way back to the ship, but that's the closest to trouble he gets. The fact that this all went smoothly should make him feel better, but it doesn't. He's still mad at Arthur, keyed up from earlier and now from guarding the ship and he's got no outlet for that energy.]

[Something he can do though is deal with the supplies, and he grabs a crate to take it and start unpacking. Maybe a little rougher with the contents than necessary, but it's not like he has to worry about ruining any perishables.]

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