#25 - One Man and His Memories, for becky_monster
Title: One Man and
His Memories
Recipient: becky_monster
Author: rosierolo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Implied Eames/Robert
Word count: 1538
Warnings: None
The two men sat in the posh Chinese cuisine restaurant. Eames’ treat. He hadn’t seen Robert since he’d bumped into him in a bar that time. That one time. Well, the last time out of the seven times he’d seen him in that bar. But the last one time was the one where they’d swapped numbers. Robert hadn’t seen Eames since that last time in the bar too.
When Eames had called Robert (after three unsuccessful attempts resulting in Eames hanging up when Robert picked up, which Eames would rather forget about) he more than expected Robert to not remember him and Eames say he’d got the incorrect number. How wrong Eames was. There was something different about Robert. Robert’s voice, anyway. He sounded delighted to hear Eames’ voice. They’d agreed to meet the following day for a ‘spot of lunch’ as Eames had called it. He honestly didn’t know what to expect.
Eames had been sitting at the table for half an hour (he’d arrived half an hour early. The first time in years Eames had been early for anything) pondering over who would greet him when Robert finally arrived.
Robert was wearing baggy jeans, a black tshirt, and a suit jacket. He looked smart. But casual-smart.
“Hey, Eames!” Robert had called from the other side of the restaurant, giving him a wave. He wasn’t smiling, he was beaming. He marched over, hand outstretched. “It’s great to see you again”.
Eames stood up and took Robert’s hand to shake. Robert’s handshake was firm. His eyes were bright. His smile was real. Eames felt the relief wash over him.
They sat down and ordered their food.
*
They didn’t want desert. They wanted to just sit and chat. Well, Eames wanted to. He was just glad Robert wanted to too. They’d been given a jug of water each, which would easily give them at least half an hour of talking. Eames decided to break the ice.
“So”. He began.
“So?”.
“I never asked how you are”.
“You have. Several times”.
“No. No, I mean since this whole ‘thing’ began”.
Robert frowned.
“What ‘thing’?”
“The thing. That was--” Eames rubbed his chin uncomfortably, “your father’s passing”.
Robert took a sip of his drink.
“You’ve never asked about that”.
“I know. So I’m asking now”.
Eames was testing Robert. The ‘old’ Robert would have dismissed it and changed the subject.
“Fine. Well, since collapsing my father’s empire, things have been okay”.
Okay? Well. It was a start.
“My uncle, Peter, wasn’t all that pleased but he soon understood, after I explained countless times that it’s what my father had wanted. I think he still thinks I’m nuts. It just feels like there’s been a giant weight lifted off my shoulders.” Robert paused to take a sip of his water. Eames did the same, not once taking his eyes from Robert. “Once Fischer-Morrow was finished and out of the way”, Robert continued, “I focused more on myself and what I wanted. Wanna know the first thing I did?”
Eames nodded.
“I bought a pair of jeans. For less than fifty dollars! I gotta say, jeans and a tshirt are a lot more comfortable than a three piece Armarni suit”.
Eames blinked and gave his head a little shake.
“Sorry? You bought yourself some jeans?”
“That’s right. For less than fifty dollars”. The look of seriousness in Robert’s eyes made it all the more harder for Eames not to burst out laughing. He took this opportunity to take another sip of his drink, allowing his mouth to twitch into a smile as he did so. Robert paused as Eames did this.
“Sorry”. Eames mumbled, placing his drink back down, allowing Robert to continue.
“I found painting to be relaxing. Putting your thoughts onto a canvas in whatever way you wanted, I liked that. So I bought myself a few canvases and some acrylics and just went for it. I normally paint what I can remember of my dreams. Dreams are better to paint than memories. Dreams are new things, your mind can add to them as the dream goes on. You can’t add new things to memories”.
Eames nodded, letting out an “Mmm” in agreement.
“There was this one dream that stuck out more than anything. A dream that happened over a year ago, but I remember it so clearly. Not all of it, just some parts”.
Eames gulped down some more water, nearly swallowing a whole ice cube.
“It starts when I’m in this car. And I’m wet. And this bag gets put over my head. There’s lots of gunfire and rain are cars screeching. Next I’m chained to this radiator in some room, and my uncle’s asking me all these questions. The bag gets put over my head again, and suddenly I’m in a bar talking to some guy. I remember everyone looking at us. Soon I’m lead into this room and I’m angry at my uncle”.
Eames gulped down more water. Robert now had his eyes screwed shut as he was recalling as much of his dream as he could.
“Then, I’m in these mountains somewhere. Snowy mountains. I’m skiing, but then there’s an avalanche. I find myself in this fortress and see this giant silver door. Then I hear this woman’s voice, and everything goes black for a second. Then I’m suddenly infront of the silver door, keying in this number. This one important number. Then the doors open. And I’m awake”. He looked up at Eames, who was polishing off his jug of water.
“So, um, what does the painting of this look like when you’re finished?” Eames managed to ask.
“I wouldn’t dare paint it. God, no!” Robert laughed. “The dream itself is so bright and vivid, if I were to paint it, it wouldn’t be the same. No, I’m more than happy to paint myself dancing with rainbow cats”, he laughed taking another sip of drink, pushing his jug of water towards Eames. Eames cleared his throat. He was so relieved Robert didn’t remember everything about the dream.
“So what is it you do now, apart from paint?”. Eames was always good at changing the subject.
“I’d never had time to make friends, let alone find myself a partner. To be honest with you, I hadn’t had a friend since my mother--” he paused and bit his lip, “since I was eleven”.
He still missed his mother. That didn’t change. That would never change.
“So I decided I’d go out, by myself, out to a bar. I felt ridiculous sitting by myself, though, reading the newspaper, waiting for some form of friend to come along. There’s only so much lemonade you can drink, right?” he chuckled.
“Right”. Eames smiled and nodded.
“Finally, after visiting the same bar every single day for two weeks, one of the barmaids started making conversation as I’d buy my drink”.
Eames cleared his throat.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. As much as I’d love to say I made the first move-”
It was all down to her.
“-it was all down to her”.
Eames nodded.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Mindy”.
“Mindy”, Eames repeated, nodding some more. “Nice name”. ‘Of course it is, you’re the one who made it up’ he thought to himself.
“She’s a nice girl, bright green eyes, dark hair. Pretty, very pretty”.
Eames had to stop himself from saying “I know”.
“Soon, Mindy’s friends would come in and invite me over to sit with them. It was more out of pity than anything, but we got along. They eventually recognised me from all the news articles regarding my father’s passing and Fischer-Morrow. Then this one guy came along, pretty much out of nowhere who took a shine to me. And I guess the same goes to him”.
Eames scrunched his face up and chuckled.
“Eames, his name is. Laid back guy. English. Bit of a gambler. Trying to give up. He’s tried to teach me poker, but I can’t grasp it. So he’s used it to his advantage and tried to rob me of my money in a poker game”.
“That was only once”.
“Twice”.
“Twice, then. Same thing”.
“And he got so happy the second time he won, he dropped his lucky poker chip on the floor. It took us a goddamn hour to find it”.
“It didn’t take that long”.
“Yes. It did. And as a matter of fact, I actually won that chip in the first game, but I gave it back to you. Or more to the point, you got in a mood and took it before it was even in my hand”.
Eames sighed.
“I’m very particular about personal belongings. Like if someone nicked your wallet, you’d be pretty pissed off”.
Robert pulled a face and took another sip from his drink.
“Almost as pissed off as I was when you went away for six months and didn’t tell me”.
Eames paused, but let this smile creep across his face.
“Well pet, I’m afraid that’s another story for another time”.
Robert turned around, noticing they were the only ones left in the restaurant. He sighed.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow”. Eames smiled.
Recipient: becky_monster
Author: rosierolo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Implied Eames/Robert
Word count: 1538
Warnings: None
The two men sat in the posh Chinese cuisine restaurant. Eames’ treat. He hadn’t seen Robert since he’d bumped into him in a bar that time. That one time. Well, the last time out of the seven times he’d seen him in that bar. But the last one time was the one where they’d swapped numbers. Robert hadn’t seen Eames since that last time in the bar too.
When Eames had called Robert (after three unsuccessful attempts resulting in Eames hanging up when Robert picked up, which Eames would rather forget about) he more than expected Robert to not remember him and Eames say he’d got the incorrect number. How wrong Eames was. There was something different about Robert. Robert’s voice, anyway. He sounded delighted to hear Eames’ voice. They’d agreed to meet the following day for a ‘spot of lunch’ as Eames had called it. He honestly didn’t know what to expect.
Eames had been sitting at the table for half an hour (he’d arrived half an hour early. The first time in years Eames had been early for anything) pondering over who would greet him when Robert finally arrived.
Robert was wearing baggy jeans, a black tshirt, and a suit jacket. He looked smart. But casual-smart.
“Hey, Eames!” Robert had called from the other side of the restaurant, giving him a wave. He wasn’t smiling, he was beaming. He marched over, hand outstretched. “It’s great to see you again”.
Eames stood up and took Robert’s hand to shake. Robert’s handshake was firm. His eyes were bright. His smile was real. Eames felt the relief wash over him.
They sat down and ordered their food.
*
They didn’t want desert. They wanted to just sit and chat. Well, Eames wanted to. He was just glad Robert wanted to too. They’d been given a jug of water each, which would easily give them at least half an hour of talking. Eames decided to break the ice.
“So”. He began.
“So?”.
“I never asked how you are”.
“You have. Several times”.
“No. No, I mean since this whole ‘thing’ began”.
Robert frowned.
“What ‘thing’?”
“The thing. That was--” Eames rubbed his chin uncomfortably, “your father’s passing”.
Robert took a sip of his drink.
“You’ve never asked about that”.
“I know. So I’m asking now”.
Eames was testing Robert. The ‘old’ Robert would have dismissed it and changed the subject.
“Fine. Well, since collapsing my father’s empire, things have been okay”.
Okay? Well. It was a start.
“My uncle, Peter, wasn’t all that pleased but he soon understood, after I explained countless times that it’s what my father had wanted. I think he still thinks I’m nuts. It just feels like there’s been a giant weight lifted off my shoulders.” Robert paused to take a sip of his water. Eames did the same, not once taking his eyes from Robert. “Once Fischer-Morrow was finished and out of the way”, Robert continued, “I focused more on myself and what I wanted. Wanna know the first thing I did?”
Eames nodded.
“I bought a pair of jeans. For less than fifty dollars! I gotta say, jeans and a tshirt are a lot more comfortable than a three piece Armarni suit”.
Eames blinked and gave his head a little shake.
“Sorry? You bought yourself some jeans?”
“That’s right. For less than fifty dollars”. The look of seriousness in Robert’s eyes made it all the more harder for Eames not to burst out laughing. He took this opportunity to take another sip of his drink, allowing his mouth to twitch into a smile as he did so. Robert paused as Eames did this.
“Sorry”. Eames mumbled, placing his drink back down, allowing Robert to continue.
“I found painting to be relaxing. Putting your thoughts onto a canvas in whatever way you wanted, I liked that. So I bought myself a few canvases and some acrylics and just went for it. I normally paint what I can remember of my dreams. Dreams are better to paint than memories. Dreams are new things, your mind can add to them as the dream goes on. You can’t add new things to memories”.
Eames nodded, letting out an “Mmm” in agreement.
“There was this one dream that stuck out more than anything. A dream that happened over a year ago, but I remember it so clearly. Not all of it, just some parts”.
Eames gulped down some more water, nearly swallowing a whole ice cube.
“It starts when I’m in this car. And I’m wet. And this bag gets put over my head. There’s lots of gunfire and rain are cars screeching. Next I’m chained to this radiator in some room, and my uncle’s asking me all these questions. The bag gets put over my head again, and suddenly I’m in a bar talking to some guy. I remember everyone looking at us. Soon I’m lead into this room and I’m angry at my uncle”.
Eames gulped down more water. Robert now had his eyes screwed shut as he was recalling as much of his dream as he could.
“Then, I’m in these mountains somewhere. Snowy mountains. I’m skiing, but then there’s an avalanche. I find myself in this fortress and see this giant silver door. Then I hear this woman’s voice, and everything goes black for a second. Then I’m suddenly infront of the silver door, keying in this number. This one important number. Then the doors open. And I’m awake”. He looked up at Eames, who was polishing off his jug of water.
“So, um, what does the painting of this look like when you’re finished?” Eames managed to ask.
“I wouldn’t dare paint it. God, no!” Robert laughed. “The dream itself is so bright and vivid, if I were to paint it, it wouldn’t be the same. No, I’m more than happy to paint myself dancing with rainbow cats”, he laughed taking another sip of drink, pushing his jug of water towards Eames. Eames cleared his throat. He was so relieved Robert didn’t remember everything about the dream.
“So what is it you do now, apart from paint?”. Eames was always good at changing the subject.
“I’d never had time to make friends, let alone find myself a partner. To be honest with you, I hadn’t had a friend since my mother--” he paused and bit his lip, “since I was eleven”.
He still missed his mother. That didn’t change. That would never change.
“So I decided I’d go out, by myself, out to a bar. I felt ridiculous sitting by myself, though, reading the newspaper, waiting for some form of friend to come along. There’s only so much lemonade you can drink, right?” he chuckled.
“Right”. Eames smiled and nodded.
“Finally, after visiting the same bar every single day for two weeks, one of the barmaids started making conversation as I’d buy my drink”.
Eames cleared his throat.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. As much as I’d love to say I made the first move-”
It was all down to her.
“-it was all down to her”.
Eames nodded.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Mindy”.
“Mindy”, Eames repeated, nodding some more. “Nice name”. ‘Of course it is, you’re the one who made it up’ he thought to himself.
“She’s a nice girl, bright green eyes, dark hair. Pretty, very pretty”.
Eames had to stop himself from saying “I know”.
“Soon, Mindy’s friends would come in and invite me over to sit with them. It was more out of pity than anything, but we got along. They eventually recognised me from all the news articles regarding my father’s passing and Fischer-Morrow. Then this one guy came along, pretty much out of nowhere who took a shine to me. And I guess the same goes to him”.
Eames scrunched his face up and chuckled.
“Eames, his name is. Laid back guy. English. Bit of a gambler. Trying to give up. He’s tried to teach me poker, but I can’t grasp it. So he’s used it to his advantage and tried to rob me of my money in a poker game”.
“That was only once”.
“Twice”.
“Twice, then. Same thing”.
“And he got so happy the second time he won, he dropped his lucky poker chip on the floor. It took us a goddamn hour to find it”.
“It didn’t take that long”.
“Yes. It did. And as a matter of fact, I actually won that chip in the first game, but I gave it back to you. Or more to the point, you got in a mood and took it before it was even in my hand”.
Eames sighed.
“I’m very particular about personal belongings. Like if someone nicked your wallet, you’d be pretty pissed off”.
Robert pulled a face and took another sip from his drink.
“Almost as pissed off as I was when you went away for six months and didn’t tell me”.
Eames paused, but let this smile creep across his face.
“Well pet, I’m afraid that’s another story for another time”.
Robert turned around, noticing they were the only ones left in the restaurant. He sighed.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow”. Eames smiled.