Brick/Inception: Après Moi, le Deluge
Title: Après Moi, le Deluge (21/24)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Brick/Inception fusion
Word count: 3,811
Pairing: later Brendan(Arthur)xEames, mentions of BrendanxEmily and BrendanxLaura
Rating: R
Warnings: currently violence, language, mentions of character death
Summary: Brendan should have known better than to tug on loose threads. He should have known that one loose thread was all it took to make everything unravel, but he’d been tired and just wanted things to be done. He should have known well enough that things were never done.
Special thanks to wadebramwilson for betaing! <3
TWENTY-ONE
Eames stood frozen in front of Brendan, blood-stained shirt sticking to the skin. When he had seen it was Brendan, his hands had begun to lower from where they'd been thrown up. When he realized the gun wasn't going down, however, his movement had faltered, and as such he was stationary in what was almost a placating gesture.
"Darling," Eames said softly, his voice cool except for the almost non-existent tremor. Brendan had learned to seek out those little details from him. "Don't be hasty. We don't have time for this. They've got Mal."
"Yeah, and I want to know who led them right to her," Brendan growled.
"You… you think I did it?"
"You're the one with the blood on your shirt. Darling." Brendan found himself sneering by the end of it, tacking on that mocking pet name and hoping it stung as much as he wanted it to.
"Of course I've got blood on my shirt!" Eames complained, taking a quick step back when Brendan moved forward with his eyes blazing. "I shot the bastard who tried to take me hostage after I escaped his grip. He's lying dead in the parking garage, and it's only a matter of time before he's found."
"You expect me to believe that?" Brendan shouted, pressing the gun to Eames's chest, right over his heart. He didn't understand why it hurt so much. It should have been par for the course by now. "Laura's lying in a pool of her own blood in the elevator, you're the only one still standing here, and you've got blood all over yourself! I didn't hear not one second of struggle, so that means it had to be someone they trusted, someone who forced them, and since no one else is here, that means it's you."
"I know what it looks like," Eames said quickly, and his casual veneer was cracking, revealing the man beneath. Brendan momentarily wondered if anyone else had ever seen through the forger's carefully sealed cracks. "It wasn't me though, I swear. I swear to God, I swear on my life, whatever-You know me. You know I would never betray Mal. I would never betray you."
"I don't know shit about you," Brendan hissed, finger shaking on the trigger. He didn't know why he wouldn't just do it. He kept telling himself that it was because he needed to know where they'd taken everyone, but he knew that wasn't all of it. "I know you're a professional liar who calls himself Eames and also says that's not his real name. I know you're good at smiling and pretending while closing everyone off around you so no one knows what you're thinking. It's all part of the façade. I don't know a damned thing except that you're standing right here while everyone else is gone."
"Why would I sell us out?" Eames asked, and his voice had raised a half octave from nerves. "I've got no reason for it, Brendan. I've got nothing to gain from it. If I had been working with Johnny, why would I have dove into that river to save you? Why would I have pulled so many favors out of my arse to get us here, to get us ready, only for it all to fall apart at the last minute? Tell me that. It doesn't make any sense.
"Think about it, love, please… Laura must've run too. Maybe she was coming back to warn you, I don't know. Your room had to have been the last stop, but you weren't in there. I don't-I don't know how to convince you, so please, just try and put the pieces together before you put a hole in my chest. Please. Please."
Brendan's hand trembled no matter how he tried to steady it. He couldn't look away from Eames's eyes, and yet he couldn't discern anything from them. He couldn't tell if Eames was talking a big game or if he was being honest, and the longer Brendan stood there thinking about it, the further away his friends got.
"I don't… I don't know…" Brendan finally managed.
Eames let out a sigh through his nose, looking down at the gun pressed to his chest. "I was afraid you might say that," Eames said dejectedly, then proceeded to nab the gun from Brendan's hand with lightning quick precision and then bash it against Brendan's temple, knocking him out before he even had the chance to react.
When Brendan came to, his forehead was pressed against the glass of a passenger side window and dawn was just breaking over the horizon. He was instantly aware of a few things-he was suffering from one hell of a headache, he was being driven through the desert in a car he did not recognize, and he was currently tied up by the wrists and ankles with rope.
"Son of a bitch," Brendan growled, adjusting himself so that he was sitting up. Eames was driving of course, cigarette burning between his lips, eyes focused on the dusty road before him.
"Oh, good, you're awake," Eames said, his casual lightness having returned. "As you can see, we're heading off to storm the proverbial castle. It's good to know I won't be doing it on my own, yeah?"
"You bastard," Brendan said, wiggling his fingers and jerking his arms in the attempt to release himself from his restraints. They wouldn't budge. "Do you tie up all your bed partners like this?"
"Mm, occasionally," Eames said. "I needed to make sure when you woke up you wouldn't attack me. We haven't got time for in-fighting, especially considering I'm innocent in this whole matter."
"Forgive me for doubting you, but you've already knocked me unconscious and are now holding me hostage and driving me somewhere well off the beaten path that I don't know."
"I know how it looks," Eames said. "Hell, if I was you, I wouldn't trust me either, but I assure you that while I might not be the most loyal of dogs, I'd certainly never throw a bone to Johnny Wells. Not only can I not stand the wanker-hell, I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire, but I've also got nothing to gain from helping him."
"Money."
Eames snorted. "Money? Honestly, darling, what kind of man do you take me for? If I want money, I can get it a lot of other ways than that. If I was that desperate, I'd just rig a poker game. It's that bloody simple."
"Power then."
"Wrong again. Do you know how much responsibility comes with power? That Spiderman nonsense wasn't wrong. I think you should have noticed by now that I'm more of a background man. It's a little less complicated and a lot easier to cut your losses and run."
Brendan was silent for a second, the gears turning in his head. His thoughts were still slightly muddied from the blow to the head.
"Maybe now would be a good time to point out that if I'd wanted you out of the picture I could have killed you already," Eames reminded. "Oh, and I'm not taking you out into the middle of nowhere. We're going to the warehouse where Johnny stashed everyone."
"How would you know it's the one?"
"Because it's not a cat-and-mouse game. This is a hostage situation. He wants us all in the same place so he can take care of it all at once. He's got a flair for irony, so I imagine he's probably at the very warehouse where we were going to battle anyway. The only problem is that now we've only got two pieces left… Oh, and he's probably been torturing our friends."
"For what?"
"Why does anyone torture? Information, of course. Every last drop. He probably wants to know where all of his stashes are, where all of our hiding places are, everything he can drain out."
"So, why should I believe you're not bringing me right to him? Going right at him is surely going to be a trap. It's a suicide mission."
"What would you have in your head that he doesn't already know? As far as Johnny's concerned, you're probably just a body that needs to be taken care of, so if he had me working for him, I would have killed you by now. I would have had ample opportunity I assure you…"
Brendan had to admit that Eames had a point. The longer he sat there putting the pieces together, the less likely it seemed that Eames was playing double agent. He just hoped that it all really made sense and it wasn't some sort of sentiment causing him to make the pieces fit.
"Now, I'm well aware that we don't have the best hand, but I know I can't bunker down while my mates are being bled dry. I know you can't either. They took them, Brendan. All of them. Cobb, Mal, even your friend with the glasses."
"Brain," Brendan breathed.
"They went quietly, so they're still alive. Laura must have put up a fight like I did. She didn't make it out alive though. Perhaps she'd served her usefulness to Johnny already, I don't know. He doesn't take betrayal lightly, that's for damn sure. It'll be a miracle if Charlie and Russell are still alive."
"Unless one of them double-crossed us."
"I don't know," Eames said distantly. "I know those two… They're not bad people. If one of them sold us out then it wouldn't be because he wanted to. Johnny's probably got something to hold over their heads."
Brendan got that feeling that he had forgotten something again. As he scoured his brain for the piece of information, he felt ill, his head still spinning a bit from the blow Eames had given it earlier. "Fuck, did you have to hit me so hard?"
"Sorry, love," Eames said, and it sounded genuine. "Force of habit. I really thought you were going to shoot me. My adrenaline put a little more force behind it probably."
"Yeah, thanks. A lot of good it's doing me now. Fuck, I know I remember something… Can you at least pull over and untie me? I believe you, for God's sake."
"How do I know you're not just going to cut and run as soon as I untie you?"
"Well… for one thing, we're in the desert. Where am I supposed to go?"
Eames hummed, pursing his lips. "Good point."
Eames pulled over the car, climbed out, and came around to the other side. When the passenger side door opened, Brendan was smacked in the face from the heat. He imagined that, if this had been a summer month, it would have been a lot worse, but it still caught him off guard. Eames took no notice of it of course, apparently the kind of man who handled heat easily (probably something instilled in him during his military time). He unraveled the knots in the ropes holding Brendan down with ease and tossed them into the back seat.
Brendan expected him to go right back to the driver's seat, but instead he lingered, frowning. "I'm sorry," Eames said after a moment. "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to see it go like this. I should have noticed something was off sooner, I should have fought harder or made a commotion from the beginning… I haven't been completely honest with you."
"What?"
"Like I said earlier, I got dragged down to the parking garage," Eames said. "I know who sold us out. I just… I didn't want you to know because I don't want you to kill him."
"Why wouldn't you…" Brendan trailed off as it suddenly all clicked into place, triggered by the slightly raw areas where the ropes had rested on his wrists.
"No offense, mate, but I'm not entirely sure why Charlie has so much faith in you to get us out of all this. We couldn't get out of it on our own, and we're at full health and strength. You're bloody chained to the bed looking like death warmed over, and Johnny's got all our names in his book. He'll have us killed, or worse, have all the people we care about killed for crossing him if he catches us, which he would."
"It was Russell," Brendan said, swallowing. "Back… back when Johnny had me tied up back at his compound in London… Russell had said that they couldn't… You… you were the only one with nothing to lose-Johnny had all their names in a book, knew where their families were. He… he must've threatened…"
"His sister, probably," Eames said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "He used to go on and on about her when we were still in Her Majesty's. He's my mate, and I know he's not a bad man. He's just got his back against a wall."
Brendan looked into Eames's eyes and found himself shaking his head. "Eames… people are going to be tortured and killed because of him."
"Not if we save them."
"And you think we can? It was a longshot when we were all together, and now it's just the two of us. Do you honestly have that much faith in my abilities?"
"Yes," Eames said without hesitation.
The answer was surprising enough that it shut Brendan up for a good sixty seconds. Even when he was able to form words again, all he managed was, "What?"
"I have faith in you," Eames said, rolling his eyes. "I trust in your skills and I trust you. I know that your heart is in the right place no matter what you do, and you have faith in that." He paused, biting his lip, and he almost reached out to touch Brendan's hand before apparently deciding against it. "You've got more good in you than I do. I saw it on you the moment we met. I've got the proverbial skills to pay the bills or what not, but if you take that away, I'm just a con man. I'm a good con man, mind, but still…"
"Are you trying to tell me I have the makings of greatness in me?" Brendan asked flatly. "Like I'm some sort of superhero?"
"Not at all," Eames said, a corner of his mouth turning up. "You've got plenty of rottenness in you too. You'd be a bloody awful superhero. Your goodness wouldn't make you a seeker of justice unless it's your own justice, but there's enough of it in there that will get us out of this mess. It sounds like bollocks, but I believe that much."
"You don't care at all about my doubt in you, in all of this?"
"Not particularly," Eames said with a shrug, gaze averted. He did manage to reach out and touch Brendan this time, though it was only a squeeze of the shoulder. "It makes sense for you to doubt me. So far, all you've learned is that I'm as loyal as it suits me. Something is special about you though. I'll let you know when I've figured out what it is."
Brendan sighed, breaking eye contact when it grew too uncomfortable. "So… if we're going to go after them, we're going to need some weapons."
Eames grinned. "Darling. I came prepared."
Brendan hadn't understood it at the time when Eames had told him that he would call in favors, especially when no one had shown up. It seemed that Eames's help had come in an entirely different form though, one that he'd decided to keep to himself until the day of, and Brendan could see why now.
Apparently a friend of his owned this bunker buried down in the desert sands, and when Eames opened it up by pressing the code on the key pad, there was a rather extensive collection of guns and ammunition waiting for them. "Your friend seems a bit insane," Brendan said as they started grabbing what they needed, no time to stop and really observe.
"Not insane, just paranoid. One of the earlier forms of somnacin messed with his circuits a little, and so he's constantly under the impression that someone is following him or that the government is going to beat down his door. He has bunkers like these all over the world. He owed me, so he gave me access to this one."
"That doesn't really convince me that he's sane."
"Fair point. Still, you can't really complain considering how handy it is now," Eames said, smiling cheekily before loading a pistol and shoving it into a holster he'd already put on. "Let's pack up as much of it as we can carry without slowing us down. Think less guns, more bullets, yeah?"
"This isn't my first suicide mission," Brendan said flatly, even though it was the first one he'd gone into with any weaponry besides his quick thinking.
"Hey, you came out from those all right, didn't you? Think about how well you'll do this time."
Brendan was tempted to punch Eames in the face, but a bloody nose wouldn't help anything right now. He settled for giving him a deadpan look and reloaded the pistol he'd brought with him. Eames, probably remembering how that pistol had not too long ago been pressed against his chest, seemed to take the hint and stopped with the banter.
Eames went digging through boxes almost immediately even though the weapons were all on display. Brendan couldn't help but wonder if he was looking for something secret, but before he could open his mouth to ask what he was trying to find, Eames popped back up again. "There's only one," Eames said.
"One what?"
Eames tossed it to him. "Put it on."
It was a bulletproof vest. "Why are you giving this to me? Why not take it for yourself?"
Eames dug out his cigarettes and lit one up. Brendan noticed it was his last one. "We have to protect that fickle heart of yours, don't we?"
Brendan looked back down at the vest, finding himself momentarily stilled by this turn of events. Barely hours ago, Brendan had put a gun to this man's heart and threatened to pull the trigger, and his trust in Eames at this point had only been out of necessity… It made him wonder how much longer they were going to keep going back and forth like this. Maybe it would be forever. Maybe deception was just part of the business. He didn't know for sure, but he did know that in that moment he honestly believed that Eames had his back here. It may not last, but necessity or not, he trusted Eames.
"I'll wear it, but if you die, I will kill you, got it?" Smirk.
"Oh, darling," Eames said, "it takes more than an army to get rid of me. I've already done it once before… possibly more than once."
Brendan put on the vest and then pointed a finger in his face. "No matter how this turns out, I'm never sleeping with you again."
"I don't even think you believed that."
"Shut up."
Eames crossed the bunker in two strides, gently took Brendan by the back of the neck, and pressed their lips together in a firm, short kiss. "Hey, if you stick by that little statement of yours, that might have been my last chance," Eames offered immediately after as an explanation.
Brendan knew what he really meant by it.
"Let's get moving," he said.
Armed to the teeth, the two of them had piled back into Eames's car. Brendan took over behind the wheel so that Eames, with his military prowess using a gun, could keep one trained out the window as they approached the warehouse, ready to shoot anyone who tried to take them down before they could get inside.
"You know," Brendan said as men started filing out with their own personal arsenal, "I generally prefer the stealthy approach."
"Afraid that's in short supply," Eames laughed, effortlessly taking out two men just as bullets sent cracks into the glass of the windshield. "Live a little. Don't be afraid to have a little imagination."
"I don't have an imagination," Brendan said, turning the wheel sharply so that the car swerved, smashing four more men with his bumper.
Eames raised his eyebrows as if to say, And that was?
"I still think on my feet," Brendan said, opening the door to smash the head of the man trying to crawl up the side. "You can thank Tug for that move."
"Who the fuck is Tug?"
"I think it's a kind of drink," Brendan said, pulling out his pistol and pumping the oncoming cronies with one bullet each. "Milk and vodka?"
"Disgusting."
Brendan smiled at him and rolled out, as he got to his feet he shouted, "I'll cover you!"
Eames's back was against his almost instantly, though it was only momentary before they dove behind some nearby cover. "I should be covering you. I'm the one with the military training," Eames scoffed.
"Yeah, well, I'm the one in the bulletproof vest so stay behind me and don't let yourself get shot."
"Bossy is a good look on you."
"Be insufferable later please." He fired off a couple more shots and then let Eames take over while he reloaded. "There's no way we're going to get in through the front. They just keep spilling out. We'll run out of bullets if we keep sitting here like this."
"Luckily we scouted the place before then, yeah?" Eames said. "There's a side entrance we can get to from here."
"Lead the way," Brendan said. "I'll keep the heat off your back."
"You'd make a marvelous pointman."
Brendan was barely able to give him a glance before Eames was throwing himself towards the side of the building, keeping his head low while Brendan fired off shot after shot at all of those who pursued.
He knew they were running into chaos, knew that their chances were slim even if they could find everyone else and put guns in their hands. A few months ago, Brendan would have found some way to get some other sap to run inside instead and then head for the hills to keep out of the fire. He didn't used to care about the people who fell in his path when he was trying to reach a goal, but things were different now. It was time to forgive himself for his mistakes and try not to make any more unforgivable ones.
He may not have been a hero, not now, not ever, but his friends were in danger and he knew how important that was now.
He'd spent too long willing to die for something, for someone. Now it was time to live.
also available on AO3
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Brick/Inception fusion
Word count: 3,811
Pairing: later Brendan(Arthur)xEames, mentions of BrendanxEmily and BrendanxLaura
Rating: R
Warnings: currently violence, language, mentions of character death
Summary: Brendan should have known better than to tug on loose threads. He should have known that one loose thread was all it took to make everything unravel, but he’d been tired and just wanted things to be done. He should have known well enough that things were never done.
Special thanks to wadebramwilson for betaing! <3
TWENTY-ONE
Eames stood frozen in front of Brendan, blood-stained shirt sticking to the skin. When he had seen it was Brendan, his hands had begun to lower from where they'd been thrown up. When he realized the gun wasn't going down, however, his movement had faltered, and as such he was stationary in what was almost a placating gesture.
"Darling," Eames said softly, his voice cool except for the almost non-existent tremor. Brendan had learned to seek out those little details from him. "Don't be hasty. We don't have time for this. They've got Mal."
"Yeah, and I want to know who led them right to her," Brendan growled.
"You… you think I did it?"
"You're the one with the blood on your shirt. Darling." Brendan found himself sneering by the end of it, tacking on that mocking pet name and hoping it stung as much as he wanted it to.
"Of course I've got blood on my shirt!" Eames complained, taking a quick step back when Brendan moved forward with his eyes blazing. "I shot the bastard who tried to take me hostage after I escaped his grip. He's lying dead in the parking garage, and it's only a matter of time before he's found."
"You expect me to believe that?" Brendan shouted, pressing the gun to Eames's chest, right over his heart. He didn't understand why it hurt so much. It should have been par for the course by now. "Laura's lying in a pool of her own blood in the elevator, you're the only one still standing here, and you've got blood all over yourself! I didn't hear not one second of struggle, so that means it had to be someone they trusted, someone who forced them, and since no one else is here, that means it's you."
"I know what it looks like," Eames said quickly, and his casual veneer was cracking, revealing the man beneath. Brendan momentarily wondered if anyone else had ever seen through the forger's carefully sealed cracks. "It wasn't me though, I swear. I swear to God, I swear on my life, whatever-You know me. You know I would never betray Mal. I would never betray you."
"I don't know shit about you," Brendan hissed, finger shaking on the trigger. He didn't know why he wouldn't just do it. He kept telling himself that it was because he needed to know where they'd taken everyone, but he knew that wasn't all of it. "I know you're a professional liar who calls himself Eames and also says that's not his real name. I know you're good at smiling and pretending while closing everyone off around you so no one knows what you're thinking. It's all part of the façade. I don't know a damned thing except that you're standing right here while everyone else is gone."
"Why would I sell us out?" Eames asked, and his voice had raised a half octave from nerves. "I've got no reason for it, Brendan. I've got nothing to gain from it. If I had been working with Johnny, why would I have dove into that river to save you? Why would I have pulled so many favors out of my arse to get us here, to get us ready, only for it all to fall apart at the last minute? Tell me that. It doesn't make any sense.
"Think about it, love, please… Laura must've run too. Maybe she was coming back to warn you, I don't know. Your room had to have been the last stop, but you weren't in there. I don't-I don't know how to convince you, so please, just try and put the pieces together before you put a hole in my chest. Please. Please."
Brendan's hand trembled no matter how he tried to steady it. He couldn't look away from Eames's eyes, and yet he couldn't discern anything from them. He couldn't tell if Eames was talking a big game or if he was being honest, and the longer Brendan stood there thinking about it, the further away his friends got.
"I don't… I don't know…" Brendan finally managed.
Eames let out a sigh through his nose, looking down at the gun pressed to his chest. "I was afraid you might say that," Eames said dejectedly, then proceeded to nab the gun from Brendan's hand with lightning quick precision and then bash it against Brendan's temple, knocking him out before he even had the chance to react.
When Brendan came to, his forehead was pressed against the glass of a passenger side window and dawn was just breaking over the horizon. He was instantly aware of a few things-he was suffering from one hell of a headache, he was being driven through the desert in a car he did not recognize, and he was currently tied up by the wrists and ankles with rope.
"Son of a bitch," Brendan growled, adjusting himself so that he was sitting up. Eames was driving of course, cigarette burning between his lips, eyes focused on the dusty road before him.
"Oh, good, you're awake," Eames said, his casual lightness having returned. "As you can see, we're heading off to storm the proverbial castle. It's good to know I won't be doing it on my own, yeah?"
"You bastard," Brendan said, wiggling his fingers and jerking his arms in the attempt to release himself from his restraints. They wouldn't budge. "Do you tie up all your bed partners like this?"
"Mm, occasionally," Eames said. "I needed to make sure when you woke up you wouldn't attack me. We haven't got time for in-fighting, especially considering I'm innocent in this whole matter."
"Forgive me for doubting you, but you've already knocked me unconscious and are now holding me hostage and driving me somewhere well off the beaten path that I don't know."
"I know how it looks," Eames said. "Hell, if I was you, I wouldn't trust me either, but I assure you that while I might not be the most loyal of dogs, I'd certainly never throw a bone to Johnny Wells. Not only can I not stand the wanker-hell, I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire, but I've also got nothing to gain from helping him."
"Money."
Eames snorted. "Money? Honestly, darling, what kind of man do you take me for? If I want money, I can get it a lot of other ways than that. If I was that desperate, I'd just rig a poker game. It's that bloody simple."
"Power then."
"Wrong again. Do you know how much responsibility comes with power? That Spiderman nonsense wasn't wrong. I think you should have noticed by now that I'm more of a background man. It's a little less complicated and a lot easier to cut your losses and run."
Brendan was silent for a second, the gears turning in his head. His thoughts were still slightly muddied from the blow to the head.
"Maybe now would be a good time to point out that if I'd wanted you out of the picture I could have killed you already," Eames reminded. "Oh, and I'm not taking you out into the middle of nowhere. We're going to the warehouse where Johnny stashed everyone."
"How would you know it's the one?"
"Because it's not a cat-and-mouse game. This is a hostage situation. He wants us all in the same place so he can take care of it all at once. He's got a flair for irony, so I imagine he's probably at the very warehouse where we were going to battle anyway. The only problem is that now we've only got two pieces left… Oh, and he's probably been torturing our friends."
"For what?"
"Why does anyone torture? Information, of course. Every last drop. He probably wants to know where all of his stashes are, where all of our hiding places are, everything he can drain out."
"So, why should I believe you're not bringing me right to him? Going right at him is surely going to be a trap. It's a suicide mission."
"What would you have in your head that he doesn't already know? As far as Johnny's concerned, you're probably just a body that needs to be taken care of, so if he had me working for him, I would have killed you by now. I would have had ample opportunity I assure you…"
Brendan had to admit that Eames had a point. The longer he sat there putting the pieces together, the less likely it seemed that Eames was playing double agent. He just hoped that it all really made sense and it wasn't some sort of sentiment causing him to make the pieces fit.
"Now, I'm well aware that we don't have the best hand, but I know I can't bunker down while my mates are being bled dry. I know you can't either. They took them, Brendan. All of them. Cobb, Mal, even your friend with the glasses."
"Brain," Brendan breathed.
"They went quietly, so they're still alive. Laura must have put up a fight like I did. She didn't make it out alive though. Perhaps she'd served her usefulness to Johnny already, I don't know. He doesn't take betrayal lightly, that's for damn sure. It'll be a miracle if Charlie and Russell are still alive."
"Unless one of them double-crossed us."
"I don't know," Eames said distantly. "I know those two… They're not bad people. If one of them sold us out then it wouldn't be because he wanted to. Johnny's probably got something to hold over their heads."
Brendan got that feeling that he had forgotten something again. As he scoured his brain for the piece of information, he felt ill, his head still spinning a bit from the blow Eames had given it earlier. "Fuck, did you have to hit me so hard?"
"Sorry, love," Eames said, and it sounded genuine. "Force of habit. I really thought you were going to shoot me. My adrenaline put a little more force behind it probably."
"Yeah, thanks. A lot of good it's doing me now. Fuck, I know I remember something… Can you at least pull over and untie me? I believe you, for God's sake."
"How do I know you're not just going to cut and run as soon as I untie you?"
"Well… for one thing, we're in the desert. Where am I supposed to go?"
Eames hummed, pursing his lips. "Good point."
Eames pulled over the car, climbed out, and came around to the other side. When the passenger side door opened, Brendan was smacked in the face from the heat. He imagined that, if this had been a summer month, it would have been a lot worse, but it still caught him off guard. Eames took no notice of it of course, apparently the kind of man who handled heat easily (probably something instilled in him during his military time). He unraveled the knots in the ropes holding Brendan down with ease and tossed them into the back seat.
Brendan expected him to go right back to the driver's seat, but instead he lingered, frowning. "I'm sorry," Eames said after a moment. "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to see it go like this. I should have noticed something was off sooner, I should have fought harder or made a commotion from the beginning… I haven't been completely honest with you."
"What?"
"Like I said earlier, I got dragged down to the parking garage," Eames said. "I know who sold us out. I just… I didn't want you to know because I don't want you to kill him."
"Why wouldn't you…" Brendan trailed off as it suddenly all clicked into place, triggered by the slightly raw areas where the ropes had rested on his wrists.
"No offense, mate, but I'm not entirely sure why Charlie has so much faith in you to get us out of all this. We couldn't get out of it on our own, and we're at full health and strength. You're bloody chained to the bed looking like death warmed over, and Johnny's got all our names in his book. He'll have us killed, or worse, have all the people we care about killed for crossing him if he catches us, which he would."
"It was Russell," Brendan said, swallowing. "Back… back when Johnny had me tied up back at his compound in London… Russell had said that they couldn't… You… you were the only one with nothing to lose-Johnny had all their names in a book, knew where their families were. He… he must've threatened…"
"His sister, probably," Eames said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "He used to go on and on about her when we were still in Her Majesty's. He's my mate, and I know he's not a bad man. He's just got his back against a wall."
Brendan looked into Eames's eyes and found himself shaking his head. "Eames… people are going to be tortured and killed because of him."
"Not if we save them."
"And you think we can? It was a longshot when we were all together, and now it's just the two of us. Do you honestly have that much faith in my abilities?"
"Yes," Eames said without hesitation.
The answer was surprising enough that it shut Brendan up for a good sixty seconds. Even when he was able to form words again, all he managed was, "What?"
"I have faith in you," Eames said, rolling his eyes. "I trust in your skills and I trust you. I know that your heart is in the right place no matter what you do, and you have faith in that." He paused, biting his lip, and he almost reached out to touch Brendan's hand before apparently deciding against it. "You've got more good in you than I do. I saw it on you the moment we met. I've got the proverbial skills to pay the bills or what not, but if you take that away, I'm just a con man. I'm a good con man, mind, but still…"
"Are you trying to tell me I have the makings of greatness in me?" Brendan asked flatly. "Like I'm some sort of superhero?"
"Not at all," Eames said, a corner of his mouth turning up. "You've got plenty of rottenness in you too. You'd be a bloody awful superhero. Your goodness wouldn't make you a seeker of justice unless it's your own justice, but there's enough of it in there that will get us out of this mess. It sounds like bollocks, but I believe that much."
"You don't care at all about my doubt in you, in all of this?"
"Not particularly," Eames said with a shrug, gaze averted. He did manage to reach out and touch Brendan this time, though it was only a squeeze of the shoulder. "It makes sense for you to doubt me. So far, all you've learned is that I'm as loyal as it suits me. Something is special about you though. I'll let you know when I've figured out what it is."
Brendan sighed, breaking eye contact when it grew too uncomfortable. "So… if we're going to go after them, we're going to need some weapons."
Eames grinned. "Darling. I came prepared."
Brendan hadn't understood it at the time when Eames had told him that he would call in favors, especially when no one had shown up. It seemed that Eames's help had come in an entirely different form though, one that he'd decided to keep to himself until the day of, and Brendan could see why now.
Apparently a friend of his owned this bunker buried down in the desert sands, and when Eames opened it up by pressing the code on the key pad, there was a rather extensive collection of guns and ammunition waiting for them. "Your friend seems a bit insane," Brendan said as they started grabbing what they needed, no time to stop and really observe.
"Not insane, just paranoid. One of the earlier forms of somnacin messed with his circuits a little, and so he's constantly under the impression that someone is following him or that the government is going to beat down his door. He has bunkers like these all over the world. He owed me, so he gave me access to this one."
"That doesn't really convince me that he's sane."
"Fair point. Still, you can't really complain considering how handy it is now," Eames said, smiling cheekily before loading a pistol and shoving it into a holster he'd already put on. "Let's pack up as much of it as we can carry without slowing us down. Think less guns, more bullets, yeah?"
"This isn't my first suicide mission," Brendan said flatly, even though it was the first one he'd gone into with any weaponry besides his quick thinking.
"Hey, you came out from those all right, didn't you? Think about how well you'll do this time."
Brendan was tempted to punch Eames in the face, but a bloody nose wouldn't help anything right now. He settled for giving him a deadpan look and reloaded the pistol he'd brought with him. Eames, probably remembering how that pistol had not too long ago been pressed against his chest, seemed to take the hint and stopped with the banter.
Eames went digging through boxes almost immediately even though the weapons were all on display. Brendan couldn't help but wonder if he was looking for something secret, but before he could open his mouth to ask what he was trying to find, Eames popped back up again. "There's only one," Eames said.
"One what?"
Eames tossed it to him. "Put it on."
It was a bulletproof vest. "Why are you giving this to me? Why not take it for yourself?"
Eames dug out his cigarettes and lit one up. Brendan noticed it was his last one. "We have to protect that fickle heart of yours, don't we?"
Brendan looked back down at the vest, finding himself momentarily stilled by this turn of events. Barely hours ago, Brendan had put a gun to this man's heart and threatened to pull the trigger, and his trust in Eames at this point had only been out of necessity… It made him wonder how much longer they were going to keep going back and forth like this. Maybe it would be forever. Maybe deception was just part of the business. He didn't know for sure, but he did know that in that moment he honestly believed that Eames had his back here. It may not last, but necessity or not, he trusted Eames.
"I'll wear it, but if you die, I will kill you, got it?" Smirk.
"Oh, darling," Eames said, "it takes more than an army to get rid of me. I've already done it once before… possibly more than once."
Brendan put on the vest and then pointed a finger in his face. "No matter how this turns out, I'm never sleeping with you again."
"I don't even think you believed that."
"Shut up."
Eames crossed the bunker in two strides, gently took Brendan by the back of the neck, and pressed their lips together in a firm, short kiss. "Hey, if you stick by that little statement of yours, that might have been my last chance," Eames offered immediately after as an explanation.
Brendan knew what he really meant by it.
"Let's get moving," he said.
Armed to the teeth, the two of them had piled back into Eames's car. Brendan took over behind the wheel so that Eames, with his military prowess using a gun, could keep one trained out the window as they approached the warehouse, ready to shoot anyone who tried to take them down before they could get inside.
"You know," Brendan said as men started filing out with their own personal arsenal, "I generally prefer the stealthy approach."
"Afraid that's in short supply," Eames laughed, effortlessly taking out two men just as bullets sent cracks into the glass of the windshield. "Live a little. Don't be afraid to have a little imagination."
"I don't have an imagination," Brendan said, turning the wheel sharply so that the car swerved, smashing four more men with his bumper.
Eames raised his eyebrows as if to say, And that was?
"I still think on my feet," Brendan said, opening the door to smash the head of the man trying to crawl up the side. "You can thank Tug for that move."
"Who the fuck is Tug?"
"I think it's a kind of drink," Brendan said, pulling out his pistol and pumping the oncoming cronies with one bullet each. "Milk and vodka?"
"Disgusting."
Brendan smiled at him and rolled out, as he got to his feet he shouted, "I'll cover you!"
Eames's back was against his almost instantly, though it was only momentary before they dove behind some nearby cover. "I should be covering you. I'm the one with the military training," Eames scoffed.
"Yeah, well, I'm the one in the bulletproof vest so stay behind me and don't let yourself get shot."
"Bossy is a good look on you."
"Be insufferable later please." He fired off a couple more shots and then let Eames take over while he reloaded. "There's no way we're going to get in through the front. They just keep spilling out. We'll run out of bullets if we keep sitting here like this."
"Luckily we scouted the place before then, yeah?" Eames said. "There's a side entrance we can get to from here."
"Lead the way," Brendan said. "I'll keep the heat off your back."
"You'd make a marvelous pointman."
Brendan was barely able to give him a glance before Eames was throwing himself towards the side of the building, keeping his head low while Brendan fired off shot after shot at all of those who pursued.
He knew they were running into chaos, knew that their chances were slim even if they could find everyone else and put guns in their hands. A few months ago, Brendan would have found some way to get some other sap to run inside instead and then head for the hills to keep out of the fire. He didn't used to care about the people who fell in his path when he was trying to reach a goal, but things were different now. It was time to forgive himself for his mistakes and try not to make any more unforgivable ones.
He may not have been a hero, not now, not ever, but his friends were in danger and he knew how important that was now.
He'd spent too long willing to die for something, for someone. Now it was time to live.
also available on AO3