426: What's it good for?

[bethefaceless]

Away at War/Battle MemeWe all know war can be a hard time for everyone but those left behind? It can be torture. Hoping you get a letter or a call, staying glued to the television and cringing at those news stories. Guess what happens to you now? Your loved one has gone off to fight a war (battle, fight, in that ilk of things) and some time has

Comments

arthur / inception

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[ getting to tags later tonight. ]

3? But I can imagine it would be both of them with PTSD.

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[Eames can't sleep, but he hasn't slept properly in months. Not with dream sharing and it's effects, not with being shipped right back to Afghanistan, into the mess. He's back at the PASIV center again, after three months of open fire and what felt like world war I fought in the desert. This wasn't much better, but at least he loves his job and can have some peace and quiet without fear of being bombed in his sleep.

Though the peace and quiet is foreign enough now, keeping him up.]

I have no idea why that was anon. What even.

[perfectforgery]

[Eames can't sleep, but he hasn't slept properly in months. Not with dream sharing and it's effects, not with being shipped right back to Afghanistan, into the mess. He's back at the PASIV center again, after three months of open fire and what felt like world war I fought in the desert. This wasn't much better, but at least he loves his job and can have some peace and quiet without fear of being bombed in his sleep.

Though the peace and quiet is foreign enough now, keeping him up.]

both of them with ptsd sounds good :3 /punts lj

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[ The invisible battle scars, the mental ones, are sometimes worse than the physical ones.

It feels odd, no longer passing out from sheer exhaustion, uncertain of whether or not you'd live to see the sun rise the following morning. Arthur never had trouble with insomnia prior to this, and while he still manages to slip into unconsciousness after tossing and turning for hours, alert and on edge and trying to ease himself into relaxing, it's never a peaceful sleep nor very long-lasting.

He knows Eames suffers the same problem, and isn't surprised to find him, after jolting awake again barely an hour after falling asleep, out of bed as well. ]

Feeling restless?

[perfectforgery]

The silence is absolutely deafening. [That's the best answer he can give to the question, so unwilling to say simply yes or no. It was one of the reasons he had been chosen for this path after all, his inability to keep from talking back to his superiors. If he were to die in the process, it wouldn't be a good man wasted.

Before he would have chuckled in distaste at the thought, but now he just lights himself a cigarette.] You should get yourself a cuppa, you need your rest, Arthur.

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[ Arthur shifts where he stands, leaning his weight against the doorway, then pushes himself away from it. Eames' reply is good enough -- it's not as if he doesn't understand exactly what he means.

It's not as if he doesn't have to constantly remind himself that not everyone has a gun or a knife, that he's allowed to let his guard down. That the nagging voice in the back of his head, wondering whether or not Eames will return in one piece when he goes out, is one he can let quiet down and ignore. ]

As long as I get the research done before the deadline, it's not a problem.

[ He wanders over, but stops a few feet away. Studies Eames. ]

When was the last time you slept, Eames?

[perfectforgery]

We sleep professionally, love. Having memory loss this early in your life's hardly a good sign, I'd bring that up to the technicians if I were you. [He's so obviously avoiding the question, and he gives Arthur a complimentary quick smile before he returns to his cigarette and the view outside, exhaustion etched into his face. Chartres is lovely at night, but he could do with the sounds of the bustling city.]

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Without the aid of the Somnacin. [ Arthur stays where he's standing for a few seconds before he joins Eames by the window, and even though his expression remains relatively soft, the smile isn't returned. The view is impressive, yes, but not one he himself will take more than a moment or two to really appreciate. ] You know full well what I mean.

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[Eames could go on avoiding the question. In fact, he would, if he weren't so damn exhausted. He doesn't have the patience for unnecessary avoidance, and so he taps the ash off of his cigarette, responding with tension in his lips and a slight shake to his hand and without glancing at Arthur.] About a week.

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[ He's mildly surprised that Eames actually gave him a real answer instead of deflecting -- he'd expected either complete avoidance, an attempt at distraction from the subject at hand, or an unsatisfactory response yet the only one he'd be receiving. What doesn't surprise him, however, is the amount of time Eames has gone without proper sleep. ]

The nightmares. They keep you up. [ Arthur stares ahead, then shifts his gaze to Eames once more. ] Am I right?

[perfectforgery]

[Arthur gets a deflecting smile at that, as it's written all over Eames' face that Arthur has gotten more than enough.] I think that's enough for one night. [With another puff of his cigarette he returns his gaze outside, and for a moment it's as if he's finished the conversation entirely. That is, until he speaks again.]

I'm assuming that you're in a similar situation, given the odd hours.

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[ As the dialogue dies, Arthur doesn't plan to attempt to keep it going if Eames really has decided that he's shared more than he'd intended to already. The silence is broken again, though, and he shifts his weight, a reply ready on his tongue in seconds. ]

I have them. [ Short, and that's that, because they're not talking about Arthur now and he's not about to let Eames change the direction the conversation is going in, if they are continuing it, as easily as he'd like. ]

You've stopped trying, that's the difference. You haven't touched that bed in days.

[perfectforgery]

Death or survival? [If Arthur thinks he can out-deflect Eames, he's got another thing coming. He doesn't address the issue at hand, his own sleep issues, instead focusing on Arthur. The question should be clear to another veteran: dreams about dying or surviving? He's not sure which are worse, really.]

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[ He's quiet for a long moment, and Arthur begins to realize that he can either deflect again, let their conversation fade back into a silence that indicates that they're both keeping each other locked out and at arms' length, or answer the question. ]

It's one recurring dream. Does it matter?

[perfectforgery]

[Eames shrugs, taking a puff of his cigarette again before tapping off the ashes.] Not particularly, but you know me, I like to know.

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[ The dreams are always the same, like a movie he's seen a hundred times, still looped for eternity -- heat, dust, gunfire breaking the stillness, adrenaline and despair and then death, but not Arthur's, never Arthur's. Just lingering fear and guilt slowly creeping up, in, to eat him alive. ]

I took part in a raid on a house where insurgents were gathered. A group nearby opened fire, we returned it, but the building was hit by a Taliban rocket.