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You're Okay
Mar. 21st, 2011 11:14 amTitle: You're Okay
Fandom: Inception
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Eames, Arthur
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: Eames has a panic attack and Arthur helps him through it.
A/N: A prompt from the inception_kink meme 14.
Disclaimer: I don't own anybody.
It had come out of nowhere. One moment the group was gathered around the whiteboard listening as Eames described their potential ins and the next he had stuttered to a stop, one hand moving to press against his chest. Sweat gathered on his temples in a matter of seconds.
The others grew more attentive, straightening up.
"Eames," Cobb said warily. "Are you all right?"
His breathing accelerated, his chest moving up and down much too fast. He dropped the marker in his hand and backed away from them a few steps, throwing his arms out and nearly falling when he backed right into the whiteboard.
"Eames, what's the matter?" Ariadne asked, clutching her arms close to her body. Yusef and Cobb both stepped forward, their faces marred by concern.
"No!" Eames cried, strangled, and staggered back further, stumbling as he tried to put distance between them.
Cobb stopped, staring after him. "Eames, calm down, we're not going to hurt you--"
Eames shook his head at them. "I--I can't-- I can't--"
And then Arthur's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh," he said and started moving forward between the others. "Everybody get back," he ordered, shooing them with a couple of flaps of his hand. When they didn't comply, he turned a sharp look on them and said, "Get back. Now."
"Arthur, what's going on?" Cobb demanded.
Arthur didn't bother looking at him, focused on Eames as he held out his hands, palms forward. "You're having a panic attack, Eames," he said, voice low and soothing.
"I--I'm b-bloody dying is what I am," Eames shot back and his legs wobbled dangerously.
Arthur shook his head very deliberately. "No. You're not dying. You're okay. You're just having a panic attack."
"S--Stop moving!" Eames cried and Arthur immediately halted where he stood.
"Okay, it's okay. I won't come any closer if you don't want me to. Do me a favor and sit down before you fall down though, okay? The panic attack isn't going to hurt you, but if you fall and crack your head open on the floor--"
Eames shuddered and reached out for a nearby lawn chair, sinking down onto it. "I--I have to get out of here," he told Arthur. "I have to get out. If I don't--" The inability to name the source of his fear only served to make things worse, his breathing accelerating until he was gasping. He bowed forward, hands clutched over his chest as he struggled to draw in each breath.
"Dammit, Arthur--"
"Shut up, Cobb," Arthur called back to him, his voice still painfully calm. "Trust me." He inched forward, moving into a crouch to try and minimize the impact he would have on Eames' stricken mind. "Eames," he said firmly. "Look at me." A grimace flickered across his forehead when Eames let out a small strangled noise in response. "Eames."
Finally the other man looked up, his eyes glancing off of Arthur's face and then bouncing around the room; debating exit strategies no doubt.
"Hey," Arthur said gently. "Everything's okay. We're fine. You're having a panic attack. They're scary, but harmless, okay? Eames?"
"I-- can't breathe," he countered. His face was pale but for a bright flush of color along each cheekbone. "I can--I can't--"
"Shhh," Arthur murmured, edging a little closer, until finally, he could reach out and place his palm against Eames' chest. He stiffened, muscles shifting as he started to his feet and Arthur pulled his hand back, holding both palms out again. "I'm not holding you here," he assured him. "I'm just going to help you breathe. May I?" He extended one hand again, watching Eames' face, waiting for permission.
He got a jerky nod after a moment, Eames going completely rigid as his hand touched his chest again. He bit his lip.
Arthur carefully took one of Eames' hands and lifted it, curling it around the wrist of the hand pressed to his chest. "Just pull me away if it's too much. You're gonna be fine." Eames' fingers tightened around his wrist, shaking and tight enough to hurt, but Arthur ignored it.
"Okay, now I'm going to take a breath, I want you to breathe with me. Got it?"
Eames nodded, swallowing hard. Arthur could feel his heart even through the layers of his clothes, slamming against his chest and didn't envy him. "Okay," he said, "Now, breathe." He took his time, taking in a deep breath, nice and slow and then letting it out just as slowly. Eames' accompanying breath was jerky, but better and Arthur nodded. "Good, good. Again." This time the breath was better. "Great. You're doing great, Eames. Just keep breathing with me. In...and out."
For a half an hour, Arthur knelt there on the concrete murmuring the same assurances and guiding his breathing slowly and deliberately.
"Okay," Eames finally said shakily, "Okay. I'm--I'm all right now."
Arthur nodded. "Your heart's back to normal."
Eames flopped back in the chair, clearly exhausted. "What the hell was that all about?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Cobb cut in. He held out a hand and Arthur took hold of it in both of his, grunting through gritted teeth as he forced himself to his feet. Cobb held on to him as his knees voiced their outrage, trying to drag him back down. "Move over, Eames," Cobb ordered.
Eames swung his legs over to one side of the chair and Arthur hissed as Cobb helped him ease down onto the bottom half. "It was a panic attack," he said, rubbing his abused joints. "I've had them a couple of times. They hit you out of nowhere, for no particular reason. All you can do is ride it out."
Eames voice came out muffled from beneath his hands: "I felt like I was losing my mind. Like you were the only thing keeping me together."
Arthur shrugged one shoulder. "There's nothing anybody can do to make it stop, but having someone remind you that you're not in any real danger makes a difference. Even if it's just a little one."
"Well, thank you," Eames said, scrubbing his hands over his face and then letting them drop into his lap. He glanced down, noticing the ruined knees of Arthur's suit and added, "Sorry about the suit."
Arthur glanced over his shoulder with a sly smile. "Don't worry, you're paying for the replacement."
Eames groaned.
Fandom: Inception
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: T
Characters/Pairings: Eames, Arthur
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: Eames has a panic attack and Arthur helps him through it.
A/N: A prompt from the inception_kink meme 14.
Disclaimer: I don't own anybody.
It had come out of nowhere. One moment the group was gathered around the whiteboard listening as Eames described their potential ins and the next he had stuttered to a stop, one hand moving to press against his chest. Sweat gathered on his temples in a matter of seconds.
The others grew more attentive, straightening up.
"Eames," Cobb said warily. "Are you all right?"
His breathing accelerated, his chest moving up and down much too fast. He dropped the marker in his hand and backed away from them a few steps, throwing his arms out and nearly falling when he backed right into the whiteboard.
"Eames, what's the matter?" Ariadne asked, clutching her arms close to her body. Yusef and Cobb both stepped forward, their faces marred by concern.
"No!" Eames cried, strangled, and staggered back further, stumbling as he tried to put distance between them.
Cobb stopped, staring after him. "Eames, calm down, we're not going to hurt you--"
Eames shook his head at them. "I--I can't-- I can't--"
And then Arthur's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh," he said and started moving forward between the others. "Everybody get back," he ordered, shooing them with a couple of flaps of his hand. When they didn't comply, he turned a sharp look on them and said, "Get back. Now."
"Arthur, what's going on?" Cobb demanded.
Arthur didn't bother looking at him, focused on Eames as he held out his hands, palms forward. "You're having a panic attack, Eames," he said, voice low and soothing.
"I--I'm b-bloody dying is what I am," Eames shot back and his legs wobbled dangerously.
Arthur shook his head very deliberately. "No. You're not dying. You're okay. You're just having a panic attack."
"S--Stop moving!" Eames cried and Arthur immediately halted where he stood.
"Okay, it's okay. I won't come any closer if you don't want me to. Do me a favor and sit down before you fall down though, okay? The panic attack isn't going to hurt you, but if you fall and crack your head open on the floor--"
Eames shuddered and reached out for a nearby lawn chair, sinking down onto it. "I--I have to get out of here," he told Arthur. "I have to get out. If I don't--" The inability to name the source of his fear only served to make things worse, his breathing accelerating until he was gasping. He bowed forward, hands clutched over his chest as he struggled to draw in each breath.
"Dammit, Arthur--"
"Shut up, Cobb," Arthur called back to him, his voice still painfully calm. "Trust me." He inched forward, moving into a crouch to try and minimize the impact he would have on Eames' stricken mind. "Eames," he said firmly. "Look at me." A grimace flickered across his forehead when Eames let out a small strangled noise in response. "Eames."
Finally the other man looked up, his eyes glancing off of Arthur's face and then bouncing around the room; debating exit strategies no doubt.
"Hey," Arthur said gently. "Everything's okay. We're fine. You're having a panic attack. They're scary, but harmless, okay? Eames?"
"I-- can't breathe," he countered. His face was pale but for a bright flush of color along each cheekbone. "I can--I can't--"
"Shhh," Arthur murmured, edging a little closer, until finally, he could reach out and place his palm against Eames' chest. He stiffened, muscles shifting as he started to his feet and Arthur pulled his hand back, holding both palms out again. "I'm not holding you here," he assured him. "I'm just going to help you breathe. May I?" He extended one hand again, watching Eames' face, waiting for permission.
He got a jerky nod after a moment, Eames going completely rigid as his hand touched his chest again. He bit his lip.
Arthur carefully took one of Eames' hands and lifted it, curling it around the wrist of the hand pressed to his chest. "Just pull me away if it's too much. You're gonna be fine." Eames' fingers tightened around his wrist, shaking and tight enough to hurt, but Arthur ignored it.
"Okay, now I'm going to take a breath, I want you to breathe with me. Got it?"
Eames nodded, swallowing hard. Arthur could feel his heart even through the layers of his clothes, slamming against his chest and didn't envy him. "Okay," he said, "Now, breathe." He took his time, taking in a deep breath, nice and slow and then letting it out just as slowly. Eames' accompanying breath was jerky, but better and Arthur nodded. "Good, good. Again." This time the breath was better. "Great. You're doing great, Eames. Just keep breathing with me. In...and out."
For a half an hour, Arthur knelt there on the concrete murmuring the same assurances and guiding his breathing slowly and deliberately.
"Okay," Eames finally said shakily, "Okay. I'm--I'm all right now."
Arthur nodded. "Your heart's back to normal."
Eames flopped back in the chair, clearly exhausted. "What the hell was that all about?"
"That's what I'd like to know," Cobb cut in. He held out a hand and Arthur took hold of it in both of his, grunting through gritted teeth as he forced himself to his feet. Cobb held on to him as his knees voiced their outrage, trying to drag him back down. "Move over, Eames," Cobb ordered.
Eames swung his legs over to one side of the chair and Arthur hissed as Cobb helped him ease down onto the bottom half. "It was a panic attack," he said, rubbing his abused joints. "I've had them a couple of times. They hit you out of nowhere, for no particular reason. All you can do is ride it out."
Eames voice came out muffled from beneath his hands: "I felt like I was losing my mind. Like you were the only thing keeping me together."
Arthur shrugged one shoulder. "There's nothing anybody can do to make it stop, but having someone remind you that you're not in any real danger makes a difference. Even if it's just a little one."
"Well, thank you," Eames said, scrubbing his hands over his face and then letting them drop into his lap. He glanced down, noticing the ruined knees of Arthur's suit and added, "Sorry about the suit."
Arthur glanced over his shoulder with a sly smile. "Don't worry, you're paying for the replacement."
Eames groaned.
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