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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[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.]

[Arthur finishes up the business outside and then comes back in to start the takeoff prep. He doesn't comment on Eames' handling of their supplies but he does pause briefly on his way out to the cockpit.]

You don't have to do that.

Has to get done sooner or later.

[Eames frowns and pauses to look at a label, but then he's right back to shoving everything away.]

And it's not like there's anything I'm needed for. Might as well do something useful.

[Arthur presses his lips together, biting back a retort to that as he continues on his way to the cockpit. It's more important to take off right now than it is to have it out, so he'll have to just let it be and maybe once they're back in space they'll both have cooler heads.]

[Maybe.]

[Maybe. Eames isn't trying to be an ass at least, which mostly manifests as staying well away from Arthur, but he's still angry and wound up with nowhere for it to go. Packing away supplies only uses so much energy, and Eames doesn't know what to do with himself once that's done.]

[Back to pacing aimlessly it is then.]

[Arthur doesn't want Eame snapping at him again about not moving fast enough, so he gets everything up and running as quickly as he can, taking off as soon as he's cleared. He's relieved to be back in space once they've broken through the atmosphere, but at the same time he immediately misses having someone else to talk to, even just to trade small talk with. He's going to be sitting in the captain's chair for a little while thinking about it.]

[Well Eames isn't in any hurry to see Arthur right now, so his go-to right now is booze. Nothing fancy. They have some Vendrizian beer in the fridge and he knows it's not exactly Arthur's favourite, so he won't feel bad about drinking a few of those.]

[Arthur sits there for a long time, staring out into space and reviewing basically everything from the past few years of his life that led him here. He knows what he wants but he also knows he doesn't have any control over Eames' healing process and they might never be exactly the way they were before no matter how hard he wishes for it. It's hard, facing these things as he stares out at the stars, and by the time he stands up his eyes are already stinging and he's tired.]

[He goes to find Eames, quietly moving through their ship and feeling his anxiety grow with every cabin he finds empty. When he finds him he stands at the door, a miserable frown on his face as he looks at Eames and tries to determine how amenable he'll be to talking right now.]

[Eames is seeking out a blissful drunkeness to drown out all the shit in his own head. Maybe he'll even luck out and get a quiet sleep for once, though he's not holding his breath. He just feels so on-edge all the time and it's everything he can do not to panic at the smallest unexpected thing or chase down every passing ship just in case.]

[Maybe it's that same hyper-vigilance that makes him aware of Arthur in the doorway, or maybe he's just that attuned to his presence, but Eames turns mid-sip to look at him.]

Want a drink?

Sure.

[His voice is already thick with emotion as he sits down with Eames, slouching forward and frowning as he tries to think of how he can approach any of the things he thinks he needs to say.]

[Eames gets up to get another and pops open another, pushing it across the table to Arthur when he's back at the table. Otherwise he's clearly not eager to talk and apparently not planning to make it easy for Arthur either.]

[Arthur's not making any effort to hide how worn out he feels, taking a sip and swallowing thickly before he speaks. When he does, he looks up at Eames to try and make it clear that he means what he says.]

I'm sorry.

[He pauses, long and thoughtfull, shaking his head.]

We've been alone together, doing this, for so long and we got to be what we are to each other - I wasn't prepared for you to have to take time for yourself. I feel like I'm going crazy because I want to help you and I can't but I need and you're... you're not here. And it's not my place to tell you how to deal with this but I just-- I wasn't ready. For any of this.

[Eames wasn't prepared for... Any of that. He was fully anticipating an argument, and getting that apology stuns him into silence. A different kind of silence altogether. Eames' expression falls as he listens to Arthur, all guilt and regret and sadness that he's been trying to keep to himself plain on his face.]

I didn't-- I never realised.

[He looks down at the bottle in his hand, swallowing the lump in his throat.]

I'm not trying to push you away, I just... I hate it. Every time I wake you up or you have to calm me down, I can't stand it. I don't want to be that to you. With you.

[His eyes sting and he has to clench them shut for a moment before he can speak again.]

I don't want it either. I don't want to see you hurt like this but I can't stand feeling this lonely either. I love you, more than I thought I could, and I'd wake up to a million of your nightmares if it meant we were still... still in this together.

Of course we are.

[Eames reaches out for his hand, wanting to give him some kind of comfort or reassurance.]

You and me, until the ship crashes.

[Which is hopefully never. They're both pretty good pilots.]

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