as requested by my mighty overlord tourdefierce, how Eames accidentally adopted a little girl from China
Eames honestly doesn’t mean to do it. He’s working for fucks sake, deep into a top side con, posing as some important Chinese businessman’s translator to steal back a painting for his ex-wife. They’re out doing some PR work, buffing the company’s public image after a deal fell through in a nasty sort of death threats type way. Eames doesn’t even know how he got roped into going along, considering that all the people who work at the orphanage are Chinese and he’s only around to help the guy understand French. But there he is anyway, walking sedately behind his mark as they enter the nursery. Eames knows a bit to do with the ridiculous one child policy in China. He’s worked in the country often enough to hear what it’s like. But he’s never been faced with the reality of it before. Dozens of little ones look up at him with their wide brown eyes as they shuffle past.
He stops cold as he looks down into one of the cribs. There are three little girls laying together, but one of them looks so tiny Eames knows he could hold her in one hand. No matter how many cribs the businessman donats, no matter how many new rooms he funds, there will never be enough to be done to rebuild the life of the little thing he is looking at. Eames impulsively reaches down and picks her up, cradling her head like that documentary he watched at 3 AM taught him. She’s so fucking small and it makes Eames wants to bundle her up in one of those little pouches right up against his chest so that she never has to feel alone again. He remembers what it’s like to feel so fucking alone that you want to evaporate. Because if you don’t exist, you can’t hurt anymore.
“Sir, you really can‘t be doing that,” one woman says. Eames turns to look at her, appalled that she would suggest such a thing.
“I’m adopting her, immediately,” he says, already listing out all the things he need to buy. The little girl yawns so wide that he is afraid her jaw will break. Exactly like Arthur does.
“There are procedures-”
“I don‘t care what it costs for you to overlook the process, I‘m taking her home with me,” and it really doesn’t matter in the slightest. He’ll forge a birth certificate, knows a doctor who will sign off on faked charts and file them away in a small town hospital in the middle of Arkansas. The woman nods and disappears into a back room. Eames signs a few papers with his most upstanding alias and rips open the lining of his briefcase to hand over something like a fifty thousand dollars.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
We're going backwards
Date: 2011-03-18 09:45 pm (UTC)Eames honestly doesn’t mean to do it. He’s working for fucks sake, deep into a top side con, posing as some important Chinese businessman’s translator to steal back a painting for his ex-wife. They’re out doing some PR work, buffing the company’s public image after a deal fell through in a nasty sort of death threats type way. Eames doesn’t even know how he got roped into going along, considering that all the people who work at the orphanage are Chinese and he’s only around to help the guy understand French. But there he is anyway, walking sedately behind his mark as they enter the nursery. Eames knows a bit to do with the ridiculous one child policy in China. He’s worked in the country often enough to hear what it’s like. But he’s never been faced with the reality of it before. Dozens of little ones look up at him with their wide brown eyes as they shuffle past.
He stops cold as he looks down into one of the cribs. There are three little girls laying together, but one of them looks so tiny Eames knows he could hold her in one hand. No matter how many cribs the businessman donats, no matter how many new rooms he funds, there will never be enough to be done to rebuild the life of the little thing he is looking at. Eames impulsively reaches down and picks her up, cradling her head like that documentary he watched at 3 AM taught him. She’s so fucking small and it makes Eames wants to bundle her up in one of those little pouches right up against his chest so that she never has to feel alone again. He remembers what it’s like to feel so fucking alone that you want to evaporate. Because if you don’t exist, you can’t hurt anymore.
“Sir, you really can‘t be doing that,” one woman says. Eames turns to look at her, appalled that she would suggest such a thing.
“I’m adopting her, immediately,” he says, already listing out all the things he need to buy. The little girl yawns so wide that he is afraid her jaw will break. Exactly like Arthur does.
“There are procedures-”
“I don‘t care what it costs for you to overlook the process, I‘m taking her home with me,” and it really doesn’t matter in the slightest. He’ll forge a birth certificate, knows a doctor who will sign off on faked charts and file them away in a small town hospital in the middle of Arkansas. The woman nods and disappears into a back room. Eames signs a few papers with his most upstanding alias and rips open the lining of his briefcase to hand over something like a fifty thousand dollars.
And so Eames accidentally gets a daughter.