Back To the Beginning (Eames: All The Plans We've Made, Part 1)
Series: Three Is More Than Just Company, AMTBR
Title: Back To The Beginning
Fandom: Inception, mild/moderate Whoniverse
Pairings: Arthur/Eames, pre-Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Rating: R, for language and implied sexuality
Story Summary: "You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you need to go back to the beginning." (The Tudors, Opening Narration). We all have stories. Who we were, what we've been through, defines who we are.
Chapter Summary: Eames was born a dirty little secret, and that stayed with him. He joined the military to prove himself, but soon ended up in a world with secrets that no one would share. Leaving it all behind for a life of crime, what he really wants is unknown or out of reach. The best-laid plans, and all. But he's always up for taking a chance.
Author's Note: Some of this clashes directly with previous backstory references. Those have been edited; this is the real story - for my universe at least.
There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
For all of the plans we've made
There isn't a flag I'd wave
Don't care if we bend
I'd sink us to swim
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on - Marchin' On, OneRepublic
Sean is six when he first asks his mum why his father didn't live with them, and why, when Dad did come, he always stayed at the flat. He knows he's not the only kid whose Dad doesn't live with him, because James who sits next to him in school goes all the way from London to Brighton to see his dad every other weekend. But he and his dad go out and do fun things. Sean's Dad always stays in the flat. They have fun, but he'd like to go to a movie or something one of these days, or even just go to lunch somewhere.
Mum gets a funny look on her face when he asks, and Sean knows that somehow, he's upset her. He tries to say he's sorry and never mind, she doesn't have to answer, but she shakes her head and gives him the same kind of sad smile she has every time Dad comes. “Sean, sweetie, it's... It's hard to explain, but your Dad's an important person, and he has another family besides us. People know about that other family, and if they knew about us too... They wouldn't like it, and they'd be very nasty to your father about it. So even though he loves you, he needs it to be secret when he visits.”
“Doesn't he love you too?”
“I'm sure he does, but you're his son, so he loves you much more. That's how it's supposed to work.”
Sean doesn't like the sound of this, it seems very messed up somehow, but Mum makes it sound like it's all normal, so he doesn't argue with her. He still wishes that Dad could take him places sometimes - he thinks it would be fun - but at least he gets to see him. From what his Mum said, it's a lot for his Dad to even do that.
He doesn't really understand much until he's nine, and he hears them talking on the telly about Jonathan Hart. That's his Dad, so he runs from the kitchen to the living room in time to see Dad walking out of what he vaguely recognizes as the building where Parliament meets. He can't remember what the place is called, but it's really sort of cool to see his father there, especially when they're calling him “one of the shining stars of the Reform Party.” That sounds important, which is good. But then he sees another clip, of Dad with his other family and he finally understands that this important job, this “shining star” stuff, is why he can't go anywhere with his father. And he knows that's not fair at all.
~ ~ ~
He's sixteen, and a student at Harrow, when it all comes out. Of course, his friends from primary school were a bit suspicious when he went to Harrow for secondary, which wasn't exactly a common destination for anyone from the school he'd gone to. His father had paid his way there, some sort of apology for the fact that Sean still wasn't really his son, not the way James and Richard - his wife's boys, the ones that the press loved so much, along with their sister Claudia - were his sons.
Sean tells himself he's not jealous of the Hart kids, the half-siblings who don't even know he exists, but he also knows that's a lie. He's horribly, painfully jealous, because they aren't hidden away like dirty little secrets. He no longer thinks that it's a lot for his father to see him in secret. That childhood realization that it's not fair has blossomed into full-blown teenage resentment. He didn't do a damn thing to deserve being treated like this, and if his father wasn't going to act like Sean was his son, then why the fuck does he bother at all? It would be easier not having a father at all than to only have half of one.
In the end, it's one of those primary schoolmates who rats him out. Andrew Leek fancies himself a paparazzo, and apparently he sees Jonathan - Sean calls him 'Dad' to his face, still, but he doesn't think of him that way anymore - leaving the flat one day. He takes photos from his bedroom window across the street, and sends them to the Sun.
It's a bloody mess. All their photos are slapped across every tabloid rag and some of the more respectable papers as well. One particularly stubborn gossip writer actually corners Sean when he goes to the record store, which is just ridiculous. It's the scandal of the month, because Jonathan Hart has built an image of himself as a family man, and yet... It's not really the mistress that people are playing up, or the fact that Sean exists. It's that they've found out the lengths Jonathan went to in order to hide Sean's existence.
Most of the press is sympathetic to him and Mum. And Jonathan never tries to say it's a bunch of lies, he admits to the truth easily, openly - but only because he has to. It would be worse to be one of the Hart kids - and he's met them now, they hate him and to be honest, that makes sense because they'd probably rather hate him than their father. But that doesn't stop Sean from wishing, for the first time, really, that he was someone else. Someone who either had a real father or none at all, but absolutely not someone whose father needs a damn media blitz to admit to anyone he's even alive.
This is when he meets Stephen. A suave eighteen-year-old in his final year of schooling, Stephen Maitland is the only one who seems at all sympathetic. Sean's not quite sure what to do with himself when Stephen is offering sympathy and friendship, which is something he's not used to. He's confident, almost cocky most of the time, but... This year has been absolute shite, so it's all right to be off his game.
But in hindsight, it probably wasn't all right to let Stephen talk him into the petty theft bit. They started out small, nicking shit from their classmates, from corner shops. Sean wasn't really into it, but Stephen just grinned at him and said, “Oh come on, mate, why not?” And it was impossible, somehow, for Sean to say no to that grin.
It was good for a while, for months in fact. They took more and more risks, and Sean began to understand why Stephen wanted to do it. It was the thrill, the adrenaline rush. There wasn't anything quite like it. Sean liked slipping things out from right under people's noses, he liked the trick of it. He liked it except when they got caught.
His father takes care of it the only time that they did, but what Sean really hates was the aftermath. Stephen leaves school and vanished, and as for Sean... He hates the way his mother keeps looking at him. Jonathan put her through enough, keeping her as his mistress for twelve years and ignoring the fact that she loves him. Sean doesn't need to make things worse for her.
So to prove that he's turning his life around, he joins the military.
~ ~ ~
His father's middle name is Sean. It's part of why Eames welcomes the fact that in the military, you use last names. He doesn't use his first name with anyone anymore, not even with the women - or men - that he picks up for one-night stands when he has the chance. He's just Eames, and he likes that. No association with Jonathan fucking Hart.
To his own surprise, Eames turns out to actually be decent at this soldier lark. Good enough to get into the SAS, as it happens. He's not exactly proud of himself - all right, fine, yeah, he is. He likes what he does, even when he's getting shot at or shooting at other people. There's a rush in it, sort of like the one you get from slipping out of a record store with your favorite band's new album under your jacket. But then suddenly he's sent back home, no explanation, no reason. He is the only one from his squadron, too, and it bothers him. Because what the hell is going on?
There's a handful of other SAS officers in the room where he's sitting, a small conference room at the Torchwood Tower in Canary Wharf. He's heard things about Torchwood, growing up; most people do, in London, though there's a guy here from Cardiff who says it's even more notorious there. All Eames knows about it is that they're some kind of special ops law enforcement, and he has no fucking clue why they need twenty SAS men. Don't they have their own people?
A man's sitting at the head of the table, reading glasses perched on his nose and a lab coat hanging off the back of his chair. Eames is willing to bet he's a doctor, and why the hell is a doctor the one explaining this shit? Then again, no one's said anything yet, so maybe it's not him. Maybe it's the redhead with the black jeans and the red leather jacket leaning against the wall.
But it is the doctor who starts talking, Micah Trevaine, as he introduces himself. Upper class accent, Eames notes, probably old money. He tells them about this new program being jointly run by Torchwood and their American counterpart, DESI (though he doesn't say what the anagram DESI stands for). Eames listens, and can't believe what he's hearing. Shared, lucid dreaming? This is ridiculous, it's some kind of joke.
Joke or not, all twenty soldiers in this room are being shipped off to the States, Los Angeles to be exact. They're going to be accompanied by the redhead, Special Agent Paula Ravenwood. She's DESI, their liaison with Torchwood apparently, and while she's clearly American, there is a lilt to her voice that she probably passes off as a full British accent back home. She tells them flat-out that she's not directly involved in what they call Dreamscape, that she knows nothing about it and so can't answer any questions.
That doesn't stop him on the plane. “So, Agent Ravenwood, what is this really about?” he asks her, with his most charming smile. She rolls her eyes at him. He knows the charm's not really going to work - do she and Trevaine think they were being subtle with the glances they were giving each other when that little presentation was over? - but he might be able to get her to relax. And that could get him somewhere.
“All I know is, Dreamscape's headed by Alex Shepard, and some of our soldiers are in on it as well. Torchwood agents were sent over a few months back, and I'll be glad to be done with all this coordinating.”
“You're telling me you set this up and don't know what they really do?”
“They do exactly what Micah said; I don't have any details because dreamshare is not my field of expertise. I just facilitate.”
“Oh really? Well, that sounds fascinating. Just what else do you 'facilitate'?” He can't help it; she gave him that one.
“Christ, you had better never meet the head of Torchwood Cardiff. The sheer level of innuendo would be unimaginable.”
Eames doesn't get any further information from Ravenwood, which is a pity. They do end up having a very nice conversation, though, and it's even more unfortunate that he's pretty sure she's completely gone on her pretty boy doctor. She's attractive enough to take out for a night or two, and no-nonsense enough that he thinks she'd be a good casual shag. Ah well. He doesn't poach, really; it's tacky and not worth the trouble when there's plenty of single ladies and gentlemen out there.
Alex Shepard is another redhead - someone in DESI's recruitment office must have a type - and much more helpful than Miss Ravenwood was. She's older, late thirties, Eames thinks, and she carries herself like a woman who knows exactly what she's doing. But then, she's running this thing; he bloody well hopes she does know. She takes them under for the first time in groups, and when Eames wakes up, all his skepticism is gone. It's been the strangest experience of his life, and being shot in the head to wake up didn't help, but he's intrigued. The possibilities for this are truly endless.
It's at the end of the briefing when a slender, dark-haired man a few years younger than Eames himself slips quietly into the room. Shepard looks over and beckons the newcomer to the side of the room, where they talk for a moment. The man turns to go, dark eyes sweeping over the soldiers briefly, consideringly, before he walks out.
Second-in-command, Eames decides immediately. And easy on the eyes, as well. Interesting combination, and he wonders just how much he'll be seeing of Agent Shepard's second.
~ ~ ~
The first forgery lesson, in a weird room of mirrors designed by this guy named Cobb, is when Eames knows he's made for this dreaming lark. Alex is a forger, the story she tells is that she figured it out by accident once, half-turning into her own sister. He'd love details on that one day, but not this minute. He studies himself in the mirror - black shirt, green pants, military haircut - and decides to go completely the opposite. Which is how he ends up in leather, piercings everywhere, and sporting a blue mohawk. It's actually not a look he likes on himself, but he wanted to know if he could do it.
Shepard raises an eyebrow when she sees the get-up. “A bit dramatic, don't you think?” she asks dryly, a hint of humor in her eyes despite the faintly disapproving tone.
“Well, that's the point, love,” he says, smirking when she raises an eyebrow at the endearment.
Most of them can manage something, but one of them can't. As it happens, it's Shepard's second, the guy who wears a suit the same way Eames sees some soldiers wear their uniforms, like it's their armor, their defense against the world. He lingers after the others have gone, listening to Shepard trying to encourage the man. She finally snaps, frustrated with her coworker's inability to manage even the simplest change. “Christ, Arthur, do you have no imagination at all? It's not that hard, just change yourself a little. Like a chameleon.” Ah, so now he has a name to put with the male agent's face. Always a good thing.
Eames watches something click in Arthur's face, and the following conversation between him and Shepard is certainly interesting. It sounds to him like the man in the suit has a mental block on forging, which has implications for the skill itself. He'll think about that one later. Unfortunately, Shepard sees him and shoots him a death glare. “Did you need something, Lieutenant Eames?”
“No, not a thing,” Eames says easily, and for no reason he can think of, he meets Arthur's eyes in the mirror before shooting himself in the head and waking up.
Link to the next section: fae-boleyn.livejournal.com/10807.html
Title: Back To The Beginning
Fandom: Inception, mild/moderate Whoniverse
Pairings: Arthur/Eames, pre-Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Rating: R, for language and implied sexuality
Story Summary: "You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you need to go back to the beginning." (The Tudors, Opening Narration). We all have stories. Who we were, what we've been through, defines who we are.
Chapter Summary: Eames was born a dirty little secret, and that stayed with him. He joined the military to prove himself, but soon ended up in a world with secrets that no one would share. Leaving it all behind for a life of crime, what he really wants is unknown or out of reach. The best-laid plans, and all. But he's always up for taking a chance.
Author's Note: Some of this clashes directly with previous backstory references. Those have been edited; this is the real story - for my universe at least.
There's so many wars we fought
There's so many things we're not
But with what we have
I promise you that
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
For all of the plans we've made
There isn't a flag I'd wave
Don't care if we bend
I'd sink us to swim
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on
We're marchin' on - Marchin' On, OneRepublic
Sean is six when he first asks his mum why his father didn't live with them, and why, when Dad did come, he always stayed at the flat. He knows he's not the only kid whose Dad doesn't live with him, because James who sits next to him in school goes all the way from London to Brighton to see his dad every other weekend. But he and his dad go out and do fun things. Sean's Dad always stays in the flat. They have fun, but he'd like to go to a movie or something one of these days, or even just go to lunch somewhere.
Mum gets a funny look on her face when he asks, and Sean knows that somehow, he's upset her. He tries to say he's sorry and never mind, she doesn't have to answer, but she shakes her head and gives him the same kind of sad smile she has every time Dad comes. “Sean, sweetie, it's... It's hard to explain, but your Dad's an important person, and he has another family besides us. People know about that other family, and if they knew about us too... They wouldn't like it, and they'd be very nasty to your father about it. So even though he loves you, he needs it to be secret when he visits.”
“Doesn't he love you too?”
“I'm sure he does, but you're his son, so he loves you much more. That's how it's supposed to work.”
Sean doesn't like the sound of this, it seems very messed up somehow, but Mum makes it sound like it's all normal, so he doesn't argue with her. He still wishes that Dad could take him places sometimes - he thinks it would be fun - but at least he gets to see him. From what his Mum said, it's a lot for his Dad to even do that.
He doesn't really understand much until he's nine, and he hears them talking on the telly about Jonathan Hart. That's his Dad, so he runs from the kitchen to the living room in time to see Dad walking out of what he vaguely recognizes as the building where Parliament meets. He can't remember what the place is called, but it's really sort of cool to see his father there, especially when they're calling him “one of the shining stars of the Reform Party.” That sounds important, which is good. But then he sees another clip, of Dad with his other family and he finally understands that this important job, this “shining star” stuff, is why he can't go anywhere with his father. And he knows that's not fair at all.
~ ~ ~
He's sixteen, and a student at Harrow, when it all comes out. Of course, his friends from primary school were a bit suspicious when he went to Harrow for secondary, which wasn't exactly a common destination for anyone from the school he'd gone to. His father had paid his way there, some sort of apology for the fact that Sean still wasn't really his son, not the way James and Richard - his wife's boys, the ones that the press loved so much, along with their sister Claudia - were his sons.
Sean tells himself he's not jealous of the Hart kids, the half-siblings who don't even know he exists, but he also knows that's a lie. He's horribly, painfully jealous, because they aren't hidden away like dirty little secrets. He no longer thinks that it's a lot for his father to see him in secret. That childhood realization that it's not fair has blossomed into full-blown teenage resentment. He didn't do a damn thing to deserve being treated like this, and if his father wasn't going to act like Sean was his son, then why the fuck does he bother at all? It would be easier not having a father at all than to only have half of one.
In the end, it's one of those primary schoolmates who rats him out. Andrew Leek fancies himself a paparazzo, and apparently he sees Jonathan - Sean calls him 'Dad' to his face, still, but he doesn't think of him that way anymore - leaving the flat one day. He takes photos from his bedroom window across the street, and sends them to the Sun.
It's a bloody mess. All their photos are slapped across every tabloid rag and some of the more respectable papers as well. One particularly stubborn gossip writer actually corners Sean when he goes to the record store, which is just ridiculous. It's the scandal of the month, because Jonathan Hart has built an image of himself as a family man, and yet... It's not really the mistress that people are playing up, or the fact that Sean exists. It's that they've found out the lengths Jonathan went to in order to hide Sean's existence.
Most of the press is sympathetic to him and Mum. And Jonathan never tries to say it's a bunch of lies, he admits to the truth easily, openly - but only because he has to. It would be worse to be one of the Hart kids - and he's met them now, they hate him and to be honest, that makes sense because they'd probably rather hate him than their father. But that doesn't stop Sean from wishing, for the first time, really, that he was someone else. Someone who either had a real father or none at all, but absolutely not someone whose father needs a damn media blitz to admit to anyone he's even alive.
This is when he meets Stephen. A suave eighteen-year-old in his final year of schooling, Stephen Maitland is the only one who seems at all sympathetic. Sean's not quite sure what to do with himself when Stephen is offering sympathy and friendship, which is something he's not used to. He's confident, almost cocky most of the time, but... This year has been absolute shite, so it's all right to be off his game.
But in hindsight, it probably wasn't all right to let Stephen talk him into the petty theft bit. They started out small, nicking shit from their classmates, from corner shops. Sean wasn't really into it, but Stephen just grinned at him and said, “Oh come on, mate, why not?” And it was impossible, somehow, for Sean to say no to that grin.
It was good for a while, for months in fact. They took more and more risks, and Sean began to understand why Stephen wanted to do it. It was the thrill, the adrenaline rush. There wasn't anything quite like it. Sean liked slipping things out from right under people's noses, he liked the trick of it. He liked it except when they got caught.
His father takes care of it the only time that they did, but what Sean really hates was the aftermath. Stephen leaves school and vanished, and as for Sean... He hates the way his mother keeps looking at him. Jonathan put her through enough, keeping her as his mistress for twelve years and ignoring the fact that she loves him. Sean doesn't need to make things worse for her.
So to prove that he's turning his life around, he joins the military.
~ ~ ~
His father's middle name is Sean. It's part of why Eames welcomes the fact that in the military, you use last names. He doesn't use his first name with anyone anymore, not even with the women - or men - that he picks up for one-night stands when he has the chance. He's just Eames, and he likes that. No association with Jonathan fucking Hart.
To his own surprise, Eames turns out to actually be decent at this soldier lark. Good enough to get into the SAS, as it happens. He's not exactly proud of himself - all right, fine, yeah, he is. He likes what he does, even when he's getting shot at or shooting at other people. There's a rush in it, sort of like the one you get from slipping out of a record store with your favorite band's new album under your jacket. But then suddenly he's sent back home, no explanation, no reason. He is the only one from his squadron, too, and it bothers him. Because what the hell is going on?
There's a handful of other SAS officers in the room where he's sitting, a small conference room at the Torchwood Tower in Canary Wharf. He's heard things about Torchwood, growing up; most people do, in London, though there's a guy here from Cardiff who says it's even more notorious there. All Eames knows about it is that they're some kind of special ops law enforcement, and he has no fucking clue why they need twenty SAS men. Don't they have their own people?
A man's sitting at the head of the table, reading glasses perched on his nose and a lab coat hanging off the back of his chair. Eames is willing to bet he's a doctor, and why the hell is a doctor the one explaining this shit? Then again, no one's said anything yet, so maybe it's not him. Maybe it's the redhead with the black jeans and the red leather jacket leaning against the wall.
But it is the doctor who starts talking, Micah Trevaine, as he introduces himself. Upper class accent, Eames notes, probably old money. He tells them about this new program being jointly run by Torchwood and their American counterpart, DESI (though he doesn't say what the anagram DESI stands for). Eames listens, and can't believe what he's hearing. Shared, lucid dreaming? This is ridiculous, it's some kind of joke.
Joke or not, all twenty soldiers in this room are being shipped off to the States, Los Angeles to be exact. They're going to be accompanied by the redhead, Special Agent Paula Ravenwood. She's DESI, their liaison with Torchwood apparently, and while she's clearly American, there is a lilt to her voice that she probably passes off as a full British accent back home. She tells them flat-out that she's not directly involved in what they call Dreamscape, that she knows nothing about it and so can't answer any questions.
That doesn't stop him on the plane. “So, Agent Ravenwood, what is this really about?” he asks her, with his most charming smile. She rolls her eyes at him. He knows the charm's not really going to work - do she and Trevaine think they were being subtle with the glances they were giving each other when that little presentation was over? - but he might be able to get her to relax. And that could get him somewhere.
“All I know is, Dreamscape's headed by Alex Shepard, and some of our soldiers are in on it as well. Torchwood agents were sent over a few months back, and I'll be glad to be done with all this coordinating.”
“You're telling me you set this up and don't know what they really do?”
“They do exactly what Micah said; I don't have any details because dreamshare is not my field of expertise. I just facilitate.”
“Oh really? Well, that sounds fascinating. Just what else do you 'facilitate'?” He can't help it; she gave him that one.
“Christ, you had better never meet the head of Torchwood Cardiff. The sheer level of innuendo would be unimaginable.”
Eames doesn't get any further information from Ravenwood, which is a pity. They do end up having a very nice conversation, though, and it's even more unfortunate that he's pretty sure she's completely gone on her pretty boy doctor. She's attractive enough to take out for a night or two, and no-nonsense enough that he thinks she'd be a good casual shag. Ah well. He doesn't poach, really; it's tacky and not worth the trouble when there's plenty of single ladies and gentlemen out there.
Alex Shepard is another redhead - someone in DESI's recruitment office must have a type - and much more helpful than Miss Ravenwood was. She's older, late thirties, Eames thinks, and she carries herself like a woman who knows exactly what she's doing. But then, she's running this thing; he bloody well hopes she does know. She takes them under for the first time in groups, and when Eames wakes up, all his skepticism is gone. It's been the strangest experience of his life, and being shot in the head to wake up didn't help, but he's intrigued. The possibilities for this are truly endless.
It's at the end of the briefing when a slender, dark-haired man a few years younger than Eames himself slips quietly into the room. Shepard looks over and beckons the newcomer to the side of the room, where they talk for a moment. The man turns to go, dark eyes sweeping over the soldiers briefly, consideringly, before he walks out.
Second-in-command, Eames decides immediately. And easy on the eyes, as well. Interesting combination, and he wonders just how much he'll be seeing of Agent Shepard's second.
~ ~ ~
The first forgery lesson, in a weird room of mirrors designed by this guy named Cobb, is when Eames knows he's made for this dreaming lark. Alex is a forger, the story she tells is that she figured it out by accident once, half-turning into her own sister. He'd love details on that one day, but not this minute. He studies himself in the mirror - black shirt, green pants, military haircut - and decides to go completely the opposite. Which is how he ends up in leather, piercings everywhere, and sporting a blue mohawk. It's actually not a look he likes on himself, but he wanted to know if he could do it.
Shepard raises an eyebrow when she sees the get-up. “A bit dramatic, don't you think?” she asks dryly, a hint of humor in her eyes despite the faintly disapproving tone.
“Well, that's the point, love,” he says, smirking when she raises an eyebrow at the endearment.
Most of them can manage something, but one of them can't. As it happens, it's Shepard's second, the guy who wears a suit the same way Eames sees some soldiers wear their uniforms, like it's their armor, their defense against the world. He lingers after the others have gone, listening to Shepard trying to encourage the man. She finally snaps, frustrated with her coworker's inability to manage even the simplest change. “Christ, Arthur, do you have no imagination at all? It's not that hard, just change yourself a little. Like a chameleon.” Ah, so now he has a name to put with the male agent's face. Always a good thing.
Eames watches something click in Arthur's face, and the following conversation between him and Shepard is certainly interesting. It sounds to him like the man in the suit has a mental block on forging, which has implications for the skill itself. He'll think about that one later. Unfortunately, Shepard sees him and shoots him a death glare. “Did you need something, Lieutenant Eames?”
“No, not a thing,” Eames says easily, and for no reason he can think of, he meets Arthur's eyes in the mirror before shooting himself in the head and waking up.
Link to the next section: fae-boleyn.livejournal.com/10807.html