there's bullet holes where my compassion used to be

[falsify]

[Eames, for the most part, is pretty good at avoiding serious injuries, but things happen. People make mistakes, get caught out or outdone. Also weapons are a thing.]

[The upside is that Eames can take a lot of pain. The downside is that he is currently in a lot of pain. Battered and bloody with a few nasty wounds to show for it when he lets himself into Arthur's place. Arthur keeps a first aid kit, he knows that, and moreover he keeps some medical supplies he absolutely should not legally have. He tries to remember where Arthur keeps it, turning to go in his kitchen. Grabbing a sharp-looking knife in one hand as he starts looking through a cupboard he vaguely remembers as storage with little regard for the blood he's leaving everywhere. Calling Arthur's name at the same time to see if he's home.]

Comments

[falsify]

[Eames puts the needle down on the floor, and puts a hand down to push himself up.]

[It doesn't work. His whole body feels heavy and the attempt to move fucking hurts. He's a floor man now. This is where he belongs.]

... Maybe I'll just stay here.

[specifiercity]

[Sigh.]

No. Come on.

[He reaches out to offer Eames his shoulder so that he can help him up.]

[falsify]

[It would be so much easier to stay here though.]

[Okay. Fine. Eames takes a moment, trying to fight off that sluggishness as his whole body starts to come down, and looks at Arthur with a frown of concentration. He's slow, and his grip isn't that string, but it's enough for him to hold on to Arthur and get off the floor.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur does his best to support Eames' weight, taking him into the bedrooom and around to the side of the bed covered in towels. He's as gentle as he can be about helping Eames lay down.]

[falsify]

[Eames holds on tight to Arthur, letting out soft grunts every couple of steps with the pain of moving. It's not much better when he gets to the bed, groaning even with Arthur's help as he sits and then lays down on his back.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur sleepily heads out to his bathroom so he can wash off any blood on his hands and then he comes back, turns off the light, and crawls into bed. He's going to drift off really quickly.]

[falsify]

[Eames is... Extremely uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, but fatigue wins pretty fast. Eames is out like a light once he's still, falling immediately into a deep sleep that'll probably take him through to late afternoon.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur's up a little later than usual, groaning into wakefulness but trying his best to stay quiet and not jostle the bed too much so that Eames can keep resting. He just sighs when he sees the kitchen, ignoring the blood at first so he can just make some coffee and decide how he's going to tackle this day.]

[By the time Eames is up, Arthur has downed a pot of coffee, cleaned the kitchen, and gone out to a local witches' apothecary to grab some supplies for some painkilling and healing concoctions he learned how to make from Mal and Dom. It's just in case Eames needs or wants them — Arthur doesn't mind having some extra stock laying around anyway.]

[falsify]

[When Eames wakes up, the main thing he's aware of first is how disgusting he feels. Sticky and grimy and crusty, and then there's the way his whole body throbs and aches, reminding him why he's so gross in the first place.]

[He groans as he makes some attempt to sit up, but it's not happening.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur hears the groan from out in the living room, and he gets up and wanders into the bedroom.]

Bet you feel like shit.

[falsify]

Yeah.

[He's not expecting any sympathy, but he'd still like some. He's suffering.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur sighs and sits down carefully on the edge of the bed.]

You want anything? I have the ingredients for a painkiller Mal used to make for me.

[falsify]

[He nods, looking up at Arthur.]

Water too. Please.

[specifiercity]

[Arthur gives him a soft smile and gets up, wondering how much quicker Eames is going to recover from this and how bad it must have been for it to be taking this long already. It doesn't take him long to put together the concoction, so he comes back to the bedroom a few minutes later with two glasses in hand. The drink doesn't really taste bad, but it's not good either. Woody, a little gritty maybe, but it goes down quick and works almost instantly.]

[falsify]

[Eames pushes himself up with no small amount of effort when Arthur comes back, groaning weakly with the movements.]

[He reaches for the potion first, movements slow and halting as he takes it and brings the glass to his lips, taking a moment to try and get a sense of it before he drinks it down. Apparently unbothered by the taste, he's had much worse.]

[specifiercity]

[Arthur sits on the edge of the bed again, waiting and trying not to be too obvious about his casual inspection of Eames' wounds.]

[falsify]

[The wounds haven't started to heal yet, he lost a lot of blood and expended a lot of energy and kind of needs a day for his body to get it together.]

[The potion certainly helps though, insofar as Eames isn't as acutely aware of every cut and bruise on his body. It doesn't get rid of the aches and the sharp pains that come with the couple of really bad ones, but that's probably a good thing.]

[Either way Eames lets out a sigh of relief when he feels that potion starting to work and looks at Arthur.]

Thank you.

[specifiercity]

Mmm.

[It all looks... pretty bad to be honest. Arthur can tell by this point that Eames just needs to recover, but it easily could have been much worse.]

I'm glad you're okay.

[falsify]

Me too.

[Eames sets the empty glass down with a light smirk, trying to ignore the way his hands are sticky from being caked in blood, or the way his body doesn't move as smoothly as he feels it should. Taking the water glass and focusing on the way it feels right now like drinking water is the best thing he's ever experienced.]

[specifiercity]

You want some help getting cleaned up?

[Arthur really only feels like his practical skills are useful right now. He doesn't want to ask about what happened because he knows he might veer right into trying to figure out what Eames did wrong, and that's not what anyone needs right now. A damp washcloth to get some of this dried blood off is actually helpful.]

[falsify]

Mm, yes.

[He smiles, a little relieved he doesn't have to ask.]

[specifiercity]

You think you can get to the bathroom?

[He stands either way, totally prepared to bring a washcloth and bucket in here if he has to.]

[falsify]

[Eames laughs softly, pretending that's a joke, and turns to swing his legs off the bed.]

I'll manage.

[specifiercity]

[Arthur's not going to mention the clothes he had to put in the wash this morning because they were covered in blood from helping Eames get to the bed. It's good to see Eames mobile, though. Arthur goes ahead of him and starts running the shower, checking the temperature to keep it from getting too hot.]

[falsify]

[He is slow and stiff and that bullet wound hurts every time he moves that side of his body, but Eames manages. Really he should probably drink more water before moving around, probably eat something, but he can move so he will.]

[Once he gets to the bathroom, he gets rid of his pants with careful movements, and looks at Arthur for confirmation it's good to get in.]