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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[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.]

[Arthur takes Eames’ hand in both of his before he has to hastily let go with one to brush back the tears that have finally fallen. His stomach is twisting and his heart hurts but he can only think about how much he wants to be with this man in front of him and be happy again.]

I’m sorry I’m so... [He gestures at himself, shaking his head.]

[Eames squeezes his hand and stands, still holding tight as he comes around to kneel by Arthur's legs and look up at him.]

I'm sorry I've been so distant, but I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere.

[He tilts his head with a slightly watery-eyed smirk.]

And if I do, the evidence suggests you'll kill anyone who gets between us.

[Arthur laughs and nods, bringing his hand back up to brush tears off his cheeks again.]

I did get pretty good at that.

[He sighs and puts his hand on Eames’ jaw, leaning forward.]

If you have to take time it’s okay, just please don’t do it for me. All I want is to be there for you when it’s hard to bear.

I just...

[He lets out a shaky breath and looks down, shaking his head.]

Can we lie down for a bit?

Yes, of course.

[Arthur’s still teary-eyed when he stands up, still holding Eames’ hand and planning to hold it all the way back to their bed.]

[Eames intends very much the same, standing with a soft sigh and holding Arthur's hand as he walks to their bunk and stays with a firm grip as he climbs into bed.]

[Arthur crawls right in with him, cuddling right up to Eames immediately.]

[Eames curls up against Arthur, seeking out his chest to put his head down and wraps his arms around him tightly. After a moment's consideration he adds another pair, just to feel that little bit more secure.]

[Arthur hums and wraps his arms around Eames’ neck, bowing his head to kiss the top of Eames’ head.]

[Eames swallows and presses his face into Arthur's chest. This should be enough for him, to put him at ease for a little while, but it's not. It doesn't do anything for the unease that's always sitting on his chest, and moreover he feels like he owes Arthur some degree of honesty, some clarity about what's going on in his head.]

[The words are tough to get out though. Hard enough to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, and when he speaks it's a murmur into Arthur's shirt.]

I'm so scared all the time now.

[Arthur smooths his hand over Eames’ hair and sighs again, his heart twisting with sympathy. His voice is thick and a little hoarse with all the emotion.]

I know. I would be too.

It feels like even the smallest thing could put me right back in that cell.

[And he hates it. He's always been careful, but never this worried. He passes well for a Terran, it's only the DNA scanners that really ever catch him out, but...]

... When we made that stop it's all I could think about. Anyone in that station could figure me out or be from home. All it takes is some asshole to sell me out again.

I know.

[There are a lot of promises floating around in Arthur's head that he knows he can't make, and he's not going to try and placate Eames by trying.]

We're gonna be careful. More than before.

[Eames appreciates the honesty, sighing softly and letting out another shaky breath.]

Ironic, isn't it? They spent ages drilling into our heads how to overcome fear, that soldiers don't get scared of anything.

[He turns his head a little to rest his cheek on Arthur, voice a little clearer for it.]

It's one of the only things keeping me going right now.

[Arthur sighs, reflecting once again on how much damage the Empire had done to just this one person in his arms and how it must have totally broken countless others. He brushes his fingers through Eames’ hair a little more.]

Well you have me now. If there’s anything I can do, anything you can teach me about how to be better prepared, I want to know.

More of this.

[He squeezes his arms around Arthur for emphasis.]

Everything else is pretty much lies and luck.

[Arthur hums and keeps combing his fingers through Eames' hair.]

We'll make as much luck as we can, then.

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