hibernamilitis:

             Not his fault? It was all his fault and James was very aware of how much his fault it was. He hated that Eames was here, that the other didn’t seem to realise how much of his fault it was. Maybe he’s fooled him all this time, that he was some innocent soul who didn’t deserve all this pain when he absolutely did. It ached to hear Eames talk like that but he didn’t have the energy to waste of arguing and really, the fact they were there made it ridiculous to argue over it. Whose fault it was wouldn’t change the fact that they were there. So they had to find a way out. Only that plan of action was looking bleaker by the second. Not only was Eames in horrific condition but his voice was hoarse, weak. They needed help.

             Even seeing the other roll over was painful and Bucky’s words of protest slipped out nothing more than a groan. He was too weak, too cold and he knew that if he didn’t up his game then he would die and leave Eames to suffer through whatever this madman had planned for them both. “S’my fault,” he finally managed through the shivers, able to force a smile because he knew Levi would be watching, knew that man would be taking notes. “N-Not how I p-p-pictured seeing you naked f’r the first time,” he muttered quietly, the arm across his waist met with a flinch he couldn’t even begin to stop. Before he could say anything else, he noticed where the blood was coming from. Numerous scars re-opened with something sharp and effective. James felt sick, even shifting closer to try and gain some heat was put off by the worry that he could cause Eames more pain. Even though the fog and the pain and the fact that his heart felt like it was going to squeeze through his rib cage at any second, he knew something was wrong.

             There was no warmth in the arm over his hip, something was wrong. Doing what he was good at, shoving his own condition aside out of fear, he dug the heel of his hands into the floor and pushed himself up, the tears unseen as they mingled with droplets left by the water. “S’not jus’ about me dumbass. Been here before remember? I’m a survivor.” Didn’t matter that he’d nearly died, that falling into Eames’ arms in that hospital had been his only moment of respite. All that mattered was making sure Eames never reached the same condition. “I can— I can help. Tell me, tell me what to do please I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” He was practically begging for Eames to let him help in some way, he didn’t care how. He just needed to before Levi came back and made this all worse.

The longer he laid on his side the more the pain throughout his body was becoming unbearable. It wasn’t just the pain that came from the beating he’d received. Whatever had been inserted into his scars kept cutting at the muscle underneath the skin and laying on his side just seemed to put more pressure on them, and in turn cutting more and more of his muscle. And it hurt. More so when combined with the pain from the beating he’d received. But Eames was trying desperately not to let James see just what had been done to him. He had enough going on without adding the fact that he was in a great deal of pain. He also wanted to keep him distracted from the fact that they may not even get out of this alive. It wasn’t something he would cling onto but there was a part of him that thought the may end up dying at the hands of this fucker.

“A'right fine, s'part your fault and part mine,” he told him, not wanting to actually argue over that fact. They had bigger things to worry about – like getting whatever had been inserted into his scars out. Once they were out they could figure out a plan on how they would escape. “This – this doesn’t count, James. Once we’re out of here and we’re not looking like a bloody piece of fruit we’ll do all of this properly and can enjoy each other without clothes on. Trust me I look much better than what you’re seeing me right now.” Eames forced himself to smile, to let James know that he was okay even when he wasn’t. Fear and doubt were starting to creep into his thoughts. He was afraid of leaving James, afraid that he would die from some sort of infection, and afraid that if he died that James would be punished for it.

But none of that mattered. None of it did. They were both stuck in this particular situation and they would ned to work together to get out of it. Closing his eyes, he rolled back onto his back, ignoring the pain that shot through his body. He knew that if James was going to remove the things that had been inserted into him it would be easier if he were laying down flat. “You shouldn’t’ve been here in the first place, James. Doesn’t matter if you’re a survivor, you shouldn’t’ve had to go through with it at all,” he explained, forcing his eyes shut to ignore the way his stomach rolled in pain. That was probably the goal of all of this – have them weak, unable to fight, and willing to just accept whatever punishment that was dished out to them.

“See the scars that bastard opened up? He put something inside of ‘em. Can feel 'em each time I move,” he explained, wishing for nothing more than to just gather James up in his arms and protect him from all of this. Eames remembered what he looked like in the hospital, knew that he looked even worse now and all he wanted to do was keep him safe. “We leave them in there and I’m certain an infection will set in. I can’t protect you ifn I’m dead. Need you to remove them if you can and ignore any sort of painful sounds I might make. Think you can do that?” It wasn’t like they had much of a choice. If infection did set in, he’d most likely die from it and leave James to the whims of this fucker. He was determined to survive at all costs, determined to keep James from ending up worse or dying on him. 

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