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elegantinmind May 20 2011, 00:02:43 UTC
[Absently trying to comfort everyone in order to comfort himself as well, he shifts his limp hand to run his fingers through the thick fur on Sherlock's head in the same fashion he's doing to Eames.

He doesn't answer straight away, tries to imagine what he might feel if the situation were reversed and it was his father who was dead, a man he's always despised - he's ashamed to admit that he might not even bat an eyelid, that his only concern would be for his sister who didn't quite know him the way he did, and he knows more than he's ever known that Eames is a much better man than he could ever be, so much more human despite what he might have everyone believe.]

He was still your father, Eames, no matter what happened. Nothing can change that. You're allowed to be sad, to grieve. [He can't help noticing the way Eames closes his eyes, as if he's forcing himself to remain in one piece, but it's obvious he's struggling.] God, Eames, if you need to - if this is - you don't need to do this, to pretend it's okay, not for me, not for anyone. You might not have been close, but he was all you had left.

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eamesofdreams May 20 2011, 00:12:09 UTC
He broke my arm once, when I was fifteen, because I'd been caught kissing a boy I knew. [Eames' voice is almost hollow as he twists, presses his cheek into Sherlock's furr, and the dog rests his head on Arthur's chest, looking up at him.] I'm not sure he meant to - he never did like throwing his punches where people could see.

I hated him, because he didn't care, and he made my mum sick and she died. And I hated her a bit then, because she left me with him. [His voice cracks and he moves so that Arthur can't see his face.] Everything he touched just got broken. I still feel broken.

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elegantinmind May 20 2011, 00:33:41 UTC
[With one swift motion he wipes away a tear from his own cheek that manages to slip passed him and he hates himself in that moment for not being stronger for Eames. But not as much as he hates Eames' dad, secretly glad that he's dead.]

I didn't know. I didn't - I didn't know. [He doesn't know what to do for the best, if he should hold on tighter or let him have some space, but he understands now why Eames feels guilty, that he's probably relieved that he doesn't have to worry about him ever touching him again even if he has put so much distance between them all these years.] But it's okay now, Eames, he can't hurt you anymore. No one will ever hurt you again, not while I'm here. And your mum, she would be here with you if she could, I know she would, she wouldn't have left you if she had a choice.

[He's muttering soft, rambled words of comfort, trying to reassure him that he's safe, and he does scoop him up into his arms then, the puppy tangled between them, and he holds on so Eames doesn't have to, so that he can fall there for a while if it's what he needs because he's not going to let go, shushing him and rocking them ever-so-slightly.] I'll hold the pieces together if I have to, until they fit back together again, because, god, Eames, I don't care if you're broken, I love you just the way you are. Whatever he said to you, whatever he did, don't believe it, it's not true. It's not. You don't have to run anymore.

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eamesofdreams May 20 2011, 12:07:10 UTC
[Eames curls his fingers in Arthur's clothing with Sherlock wriggling in under his arm. He's still shaking, and it's probably from shock, or whatever he's been carrying around for the past twenty or so years, but he can't stop and he hates it, because Eames' control over himself has always been something he needs. His face is wet, but he doesn't try to pull away, just pushes his face into Arthur's shoulder to hide from it all.] Nobody ever believed me. Why would they? He was an important man and I was just his deliquent, stupid son. They thought I'd made it all up, or they just didn't care. And he - I wasn't what he wanted, I wasn't very good at the things he and his father had been good at. So he would try to force those traits on me, and I hated it.

I was happy, you know. In London, in that stupid block of flats, I loved it. I didn't care that I had no money or that my friends were all drug dealers and prostitutes because they were good people. And then he found me, and he made me sign up, Arthur. I never wanted to be in the army, but it was either that or prison. He said - he said it would be better to have a dead hero than an alive failure, and what was I suppose to do? Everything bad in my life happens because I could never stand up for myself, and everything about me now is just frayed and walled up and how could anyone want to be near me? [Small voice.] How could you want to be here?

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elegantinmind May 20 2011, 18:30:34 UTC
[When Arthur feels the dampened patch of his shirt grow all he wants to do is reach out and wipe all of Eames' tears away, but he doesn't, decides that it's better to let them keep coming while they have the chance, hoping that maybe it'll help to calm him once they pass. He doubts Eames allows himself this luxury often, if that's what it can be called, so he just holds on, doesn't move in case he accidentally lets go, and listens, fingers never stopping at their work.

It takes him a moment to let the anger pass, or at least to set it aside to deal with later, because the idea of Eames growing up somewhere and never feeling safe, always in danger of being hurt by someone who should be there to protect him - it makes him feel sick, makes his heart ache because he can't change what's already happened.]

Don't say that. God, Eames, don't even think it. [He pushes himself up enough so that he can take hold of Eames' face with gentle, caring hands, and now he does wipe some of the tears away, the pads of his thumbs brushing them aside, and he looks right at him, tries to make him look back.] I mean it, do you understand me? Eames, there's no one like you out there, believe me, I've looked. You have something no one else does, and it doesn't make people want to run in the opposite direction, it draws them in, intrigues people in a way nothing or no one else ever could.

[He shakes his head a little, and when he speaks again his voice comes out softer and broken-sounding, like it actually does hurt him to see this, to hear Eames put himself down like he's nothing.] Of course I want to be here. I don't care where it is, where you go, but I always want to be there, with you. Where else would I be? [The question makes him look as lost as he knows he would be now without him.] Since the day we met, this is all I've wanted - you are all I've wanted. Because underneath that front, that stupid mask you wear, I knew - I knew - there was so much more there. You're the bravest person I know, you care so much sometimes that it looks as if it might break you, and, fuck, why wouldn't I want to be here? If anything, I don't deserve you. You should have so much better than this, Eames, better than me, but I can't let you go, I can't, and I don't care how selfish that makes me because I know you'd go, if you wanted to. [He stops himself before he can't, presses his lips to Eames' forehead in a soft, lingering kiss, and then he just watches him, gazes at him like someone who doesn't know what they're doing but knows they have to try.] I always wondered what made you, why you were how you were, thought for hours, and now, now I wish... I wish I could make it better for you, I wish I could make it all go away.

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eamesofdreams May 20 2011, 22:05:44 UTC
I'm sorry. [Eames' voice comes out as a rough whisper, eyes closing as he kisses his forehead and then shutters his gaze back open, fixes his on Arthur.] I'm so sorry, I - I should just - I should be all right. I know I should. I never wanted him to be able to ruin this. This was mine and I don't. I'll be fine, Arthur. You don't have to worry.

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elegantinmind May 20 2011, 22:44:41 UTC
Oh, Eames. [He says it with a sigh, a shake of his head, because he still doesn't know what to say, what to do to help, so he tries to lighten the mood with a tease that seems far too unsure.] You're an idiot, do you know that? This isn't ruined, it's not... No one can ruin this, nothing can take this from us, all right? You're just... With everything... In shock, and I'd put money on relieved, like a fucking weight's been lifted. God, Eames.

[He folds them up that much closer, but making sure he can still see Eames' face, gently wiping away the fresh tears as they pour over.] You need time to get your head around it, that's all, time and space. You be however you need to be, I don't care, I'll still be here, I won't think any less of you. If you need... Whatever you need to do, you should do regardless.

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eamesofdreams May 20 2011, 23:00:39 UTC
[He makes a sound, a slight muted whimper, curls his arm around Arthur's waist and holds on like his life is dependant on it. Arthur's right, he is in shock and he knows it, knows that sooner or later he might be able to breath and tackle this like his usual rational self would, but he's suddenly so very scared of nothing that his mind is skewed.

From the other room, Eames hears his phone start to ring, and he doesn't even waste time, just tightens his grip on the other man in case he moves to answer it.] It'll be David. My godfather. I rang him downstairs. He'll leave a message, I can't-.

I could - [Breathing in, just taking in the scent of the boy beneath him.] I haven't been back to England for ten years, and there's - there's nothing now, there's no reason why I shouldn't. I don't. I don't know.

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elegantinmind May 20 2011, 23:39:23 UTC
It's okay, Eames, it's all right. Everything else can wait. [He holds on to Eames so tight that he isn't sure if he's hurting him, but he doesn't dare loosen the grip, tangling their legs together and rubbing a hand flat against the length of his back in slow, soothing motions.] I'm sure your godfather will understand you need time. I can ring him back for you later if you don't feel able to, okay?

[He nods slowly as he listens, already planning things out silently in his head even though he doesn't really know yet what it is he's actually planning. But he knows he can't leave it to Eames, that he needs to do this for him, and if there's anything he can do to help it's organise everything.] You don't have to go back straight away, or at all, but if you do want to, if you need to, then we'll go. We'll pack everything up and we'll go.

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eamesofdreams May 21 2011, 14:42:58 UTC
I don't know. [He sounds tired, voice muffled against the slant of Arthur's neck, curling into him desperately.] I don't know what to do for the best, Arthur. I just -. Maybe. Maybe I'll go back.

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elegantinmind May 21 2011, 19:25:19 UTC
You don't have to decide right away. [He presses another kiss to Eames' forehead, then another, gently grazes his lips against the other man's nose and down to his lips where he kisses him so light and lingering in an attempt to calm him.] You need to rest, process everything. You're the only thing that matters now.

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eamesofdreams May 21 2011, 20:04:43 UTC
[Voice nothing but a low whisper.] I'm lost, Arthur. What should I do?

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elegantinmind May 21 2011, 20:23:24 UTC
I can't tell you that, Eames, it's something you have to decide for yourself. Whatever you do, no matter what it is you choose to do, I'll be right there with you. [He nudges him carefully so that Eames' head flops back against his shoulder, holds him there, a comforting warmth settling around them beneath the sheet.] But if I were in your situation, I think I'd like to see the fu- [Catching himself before the anger takes hold, he draws in a breath.] I think I'd want to go to the funeral, for closure, so that I could bury the past along with him and begin to truly move on with my life.

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eamesofdreams May 21 2011, 20:41:40 UTC
[He presses his cheek into Arthur's shoulder, closes his eyes and breathes in and out, feeling the weight of Sherlock on his chest and Arthur underneath him.] Will you come? I don't think I'd make it on my own.

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elegantinmind May 21 2011, 22:01:57 UTC
Of course I will. I wouldn't let you go off to face this on your own, not now, not when you don't need to. [Giving Sherlock a stroke.] The dog would miss you, anyway, so you'll just have to put up with us tagging along.

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eamesofdreams May 22 2011, 13:50:41 UTC
What do you think, Sherlock? Do you fancy a little trip? [His voice is still rough when he runs his fingers through the snoozing dog's fur, still wrapped around Arthur like he's a security blanket.] We don't have to go for long, we can just -. I never thought I'd get to go back, it's all very strange.

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