Work Text:
Eames sighed loudly and tried to find a more comfortable position on the car seat. He glanced through the window while humming along the song that was lowly playing. Before his eyes, the landscape was passing slowly enough for him to distinguish each tree. He loved it better when they all blurred into a huge spot of greens and browns that seemed to be endless, until it was suddenly interrupted to give way to the calm immensity of a field. He yawned and fought to keep his eyes open. The hotness in the car was stifling, and combined with the boring ads that were now being broadcasted, he wondered how he had not fallen asleep yet.
He allowed himself to shut his eyelids for a few seconds. His darling was waiting for him. He could perfectly see him in his mind eye. He would be standing on the porch of his little house, in a perfectly tailored suit. Would it be white? Eames doubted it would, his darling was too sophisticated to wear a white suit, even on a special occasion like this... Though one could never know, especially when it came to Arthur. The Forger had been very surprised when his darling point man had refused to let him see his suit; Eames would never have pegged him as someone who believed in and respected those silly superstitions. But somehow, it had made him love his darling even more. He wondered if he would also wear something blue, something old, something new and...
A bump in the road disrupted Eames from his thoughts and brought him back to the hot and wet reality. The driver drank a long sip from his beer and looked at his watch while emitting a loud burp. Eames wrinkled his nose in disgust and moved a bit forward, intending to say something witty about the man’s rudeness, but he noticed that the dog on the passenger seat was staring at him. He loved dogs, but this one seemed to be kind of a lunatic, so he just shut his mouth and sat back on his seat.
He tried to focus his thoughts back on the wonderful man that was waiting for him, but the rubbish car was making too much noise on the potholed road. He wished he could have come to his darling in a white Rolls Royce, and in a better suit than this one: he didn’t have time to change and was still wearing his frayed ‘thing’, as Arthur so lovingly called it.
“How long do we have still until Memphis?” Eames asked, with the most polite tone he could manage at the moment.
“Shut up. Take a smoke if you’re restless.” The driver mumbled between two sips.
“Great” Eames sighed “and how am I supposed to do this, seeing as I have to wear those ugly things?” he said in a bitter tone, showing his handcuffed wrists to the indifferent policeman, who didn’t even bother to look.
Eames leant back on his seat, throwing his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh. The sound of the chains clicking made him cringe: ha wasn’t a free man anymore. For once, the coppers had won. Eames shook his head. He berated himself for having been caught; it was his fault and his only. His mind had been too busy being excited about today, and he had been reckless. Now the day he had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity had finally arrived, and he was handcuffed, sitting on the backseat of a hot foul smelling old police car.
He glanced through the window again. His darling’s house was just a few miles away, but that wasn’t where he was heading. He was being driven to the police station. He wouldn’t go to the church today, but to Memphis.