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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[He's trying, he really is, but Arthur's comment makes him pause and he frowns.]

I'm not...

[He sighs heavily and steps closer to Arthur so he can speak quietly.]

I'm not good right now.

[Arthur would really love to take Eames' hands right now or lean in and rest his forehead on Eames' forehead or something comforting and intimate but they're in public in a kind of tough port and he'd likely just be asking for trouble. He sighs and looks around, speaking softly.]

Well then let's go back to the ship, I'm not that hungry.

Don't you want that roasted fruit?

[He glances around and looks back at Arthur with a light smirk.]

I can probably hold it together long enough for that.

Nah, I'll live.

[He shrugs and gestures in the direction of their ship - they're not too far away.]

Better we get going now anyway.

[He feels a little bad, but not enough to push. He's restless and anxious and thankfully has enough clarity to know the paranoia is irrational, but that doesn't mean he's gonna stop feeling it any time soon.]

[Eames nods and gives Arthur a slightly apologetic look before he turns to walk back to the docking bay.]

Let's go.

[He stops himself from taking Eames' hand as they walk, stuffing his hands in his pockets instead. He doesn't bother trying to talk about anything, he just focuses on getting them back into the ship.]

[Eames moves with laser focus, trying not to let his attention linger on any person and jus make sure he gets to the ship in one piece. Thankfully it's not far to go, but it's still too much for a man who just wants to get away from all the people around.]

[At least he gets he manages without causing any trouble or scenes, hastily putting in the code to open the hatch and letting out a heavy sigh the second he's inside. Eames thinks he might even be sweating. This is awful.]

[Arthur follows him in, making sure the hatch is closed and then going to Eames an putting a hand on his back.]

Hey.

[He sounds a little worried, but trying to be calming.]

Did something happen in there?

No, no.

[He shakes his head and pushes a hand through his hair.]

I don't think so.

[Eames frowns and gives Arthur a worried look, suddenly afraid he's regressing or... Who fucking knows.]

I don't know what set me off.

[Arthur frowns and studies Eames' face, trying to decide what to do.]

Could've been something small. Come sit down.

Okay.

[Eames pitifully reaches for Arthur's hand, wanting some point of contact to make him feel a little more real and secure.]

[He takes Eames' hand and squeezes it affectionately, leading him to the galley and sitting down on the bench.]

Is there anything I can do?

I don't know, I think I just...

[He gestures helplessly.]

I probably just need to take my mind off it.

[Arthur puts his free hand on Eames' knee.]

Well, we can take off whenever you want or we can just stay here. I'm happy to do whatever you want.

[He frowns a little, because he doesn't really know what he wants. Except to be fine, but obviously that's not happening.]

I don't... I don't know.

[He needs someone to make the decision for him. He can't think straight, he can feel his hands shaking now the surge of adrenaline has worn off.]

Hey, it's okay.

[He brings his hand to Eames' cheek.]

We'll stay here a little longer then. The ship's locked up, even if someone was coming for us they wouldn't be able to get in.

Okay.

[Eames leans into Arthur's touch and steps a little closer to him, resting his hand on Arthur's hip.]

Thank you.

[Arthur leans in to give Eames a kiss on his forehead. This is worrying, but he knows Eames has made progress and the fact that he's talking about his feelings now means he's not falling back on his bad old habits.]

You want some water?

[He's trying. It's hard but he's really, really trying not to just go back to bottling it up and repressing it until it's too much. And that's probably good. Because he gets moments like this where Arthur takes care of him without judging or being frustrated and angry like before.]

[He just wishes he didn't still need these moments.]

Yeah, thanks.

[Eames tilts his head up to try and get a quick kiss first.]

[Arthur kisses him, lingering a little longer than what might be considered quick. He leaves after that to get a glass of water, bringing it back and handing it to Eames with another kiss on his cheek.]

[Eames immediately puts his hand on Arthur's hip and steps in close to him as soon as he's back, taking the glass with a soft thanks and taking a few slow sips.]

[Arthur wraps an arm loosely around Eames' waist and rests his hand on his back.]

[Eames sighs softly, leaning a little of his weight on Arthur.]

I'm sorry.

[Arthur shakes his head and rubs Eames’ back.]

You don’t have to apologize for this.

[Eames disagrees, but he's not going to fight about it. Instead he tries to gently nudge Arthur to go somewhere they can sit or lay down.]

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