(no subject)
Title: Panicked, part 2
Pairing: Eventual Arthur/Eames
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, memory loss, and eventually will deal with non-con.
Summary: Eames is kidnapped in Mombasa and only starts to remember what happened after seeing Arthur a few weeks later… (Based off of this prompt from the inceptionkink meme, but changed quite a bit.)
Word Count: This part is 1,879.
Disclaimer/Author's note: Like the first part, this part was beta'd by the amazing fitz_y and first posted unbeta'd on the kink meme - this is the slightly better version, with a few small changes. Also, none of the characters, machines, or situations you recognise are mine. Part One here.
Part Two
Two weeks later they were both in London. His wrist hadn't been broken, just sprained, and Eames had only just taken off the bandage he had been wearing, worried it was ruining the lines of the sleeves of his shirts. His face and torso were still stained with bruises, but they had faded mostly to a dull yellow that gave his skin a rather unhealthy tinge. Used to fielding a lot of questions about the marks, Eames had perfected an impressive story about a street gang and a lovely Italian female tourist who needed saving that fooled almost everyone.
He still remembered nothing, but now knew that he had been out for almost 48 hours - two whole days gone from his life - not just gone, but taken, somehow, by some thugs. The marks on his wrist meant that it could be have been some sort of extraction - or worse yet, inception - and he sometimes thought that, technically, he should be warning a few people that men in balaclavas might come for them. But he had faith in the security of his mind - they were trained and put in place by the best, after all - and he certainly didn't feel like anything had been taken away or added. Plus, he knew there would be a rather long list of people to warn and frankly he wasn't sure where he would start.
Arthur had called Yusuf, Ariadne, and Eames to London for a job and Eames figured that between the best chemist, architect, and pointman/extractor in the business, if anything had been extracted or incepted from him, someone was sure to notice.
'So, the dream team back together again, huh?' he said as way of greeting, surprising Ariadne in the warehouse Arthur had finagled for their workspace. Ariadne smiled and hugged Eames tightly as he looked around over her petite shoulder. Not quite as nice as the warehouse Saito had bought for them, but certainly nicer than a lot of jobs Eames had pulled.
'Oh my god!' Ariadne said, interrupting her own greetings, as she caught a look at Eames' face. 'What the hell happened to you?'
Eames grimaced and brought a hand to his cheek. 'Its a long sordid tale of intrigue and danger, with yours truly as the hero.'
Ariadne looked disbelieving, as she took in his fully bruised appearance. Most of the bruises on his face were gone, thankfully, and the swelling had disappeared, but Eames knew he wasn't up to his usual visual splendour with the remains of a black eye and a gash still attempting to heal on his lip. He was only thankful his suit prevented Ariadne from giving the same scrutiny to his torso, which was still littered in bruises just turning yellow.
'Involving lots of alcohol and possibly a door you walked into?' Ariadne asked sarcastically, even as she continued to eye him.
'Hm, that may sound familiar. Let's rehash it all tonight over drinks, shall we?' Eames smiled widely at her - damn, that still hurt his lip a bit - before leaning over to look at the drawings and blueprints she had been studying. 'So what are the details on this job, anyway?'
Ariadne scooped all the assorted papers into a pile and attempted to shield them from Eames' gaze. 'Arthur wants you for the dreamer of one level, but not this one, so don't look too closely or I'll be in for hours more work.'
'Two levels? Any idea what kind of job this is?'
Ariadne shrugged. 'You'll have to ask him, I guess.'
Eames looked around the warehouse again. Someone had set up all the chairs and tables they would need in one corner of the large room, the only one that seemed to be free of leaking pipes or broken windows. Definitely a step down from their last job together. 'Where is he, anyway?'
Ariadne glanced to the main door, as if this would be Arthur's cue to arrive. 'I dunno, he went to get coffees a while ago. Should be back soon.'
Eames nodded, glancing at his watch - a new purchase, after the face of his last one had been smashed during the 'warning'. Arthur, who was usually precise with time, was eight minutes late. Not usually worth noting, he supposed, except that it was Arthur and well - Eames still couldn't get the faint fear that more balaclava-shielded kidnappings might occur at any time to someone he knew.
He cast that thought out of his mind, telling himself he was ridiculous, just as Yusuf walked into the warehouse. 'Yusuf!' Ariadne cried, running to give him a hug. 'Its so good to see you guys again,' she said, still hanging onto Yusuf but looking at Eames as well.
'Nice to see you too,' Yusuf said, trying to juggle an excited Ariadne and the large bag he had carried in, presumably full of the equipment he would need to set up his lab. He looked relieved when Ariadne let him go.
Eames nodded at Yusuf. 'You should come visit,' he said, turning back to Ariadne. 'We both spend most of our time in Mombasa after all. Hit two birds with one stone, as it were. Or one flight, anyway.'
Ariadne raised an eyebrow and snorted. 'Yeah, I'll just jump onto an airplane to Kenya. I'm sure my professors - not to mention my parents - would love that. As it is everyone thinks I'm in London with some girlfriends for spring break. If they knew I was hanging out with a bunch of middle-aged men, I imagine they would not be as excited.'
Eames made an outraged face at the 'middle-aged' comment, but was saved from replying when Arthur pushed his way into the warehouse, his back against the door. He was carrying his usual briefcase, and a precariously balanced tray with four paper coffee cups in it.
As Ariadne rushed to help Arthur, Eames grabbed the edge of the table, suddenly feeling dizzy. His head swam as he watched Ariadne grab the coffees from Arthur, and as Arthur turned around to face Eames and Yusuf --
'Excuse me,' Eames choked out, aware that he sounded panicked, as he turned and fled. He darted around the corner, away from the main room of the warehouse and, more importantly, away from Arthur. Eames was gasping, suddenly covered in sweat, and he had the horrible feeling he might pass out. Relieved to see a door marked WC, he nearly fell against it.
Standing up straight once inside, Eames tried to take deeper breathes as he began to pace the length of the bathroom - actually the girl's room. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him, but he attempted to calm himself down with long strides and matching deep breaths.
After a moment or so of this, Eames allowed himself to stop, and leaned against one of the porcelain sinks. His breath was calmer, but he was still sweating, still nervous. He looked at himself in the mirror, his bruised yellow eye in sharp relief to the paleness of his skin, and took one final deep breath. Okay. That was weird.
Eames was saved from too much personal reflection by a knock on the door, and Ariadne's voice from the other side, 'Eames, you in here?'
'Mmm, yeah, hold on,' Eames said, willing his voice to sound normal. He turned the tap on, hoping that running some cold water on his face might bring some colour back into it, and ran his hands down his face. He let the tap run a bit, getting colder, as he kept his face covered, bent over the sink. He had never had anything like this before. He was covered in sweat, his heart still pounding like he just finished an intense workout, and he was shaky all over. The worst thing was whenever Eames thought of Arthur coming into the warehouse - whenever he thought of him in the warehouse, just outside the door, really - his heart pounded more.
'What the bloody fuck is wrong with you?' Eames whispered into the mirror, after running the freezing water over his clammy face. He slapped his cheeks, which were still pale, and turned the tap off. Maybe he should have eaten a better breakfast after his brief workout that morning, in his hotel's swanky gym. Maybe this was some sort of residual hang over from the minor drinking binge he had gone on with Yusuf a few nights ago - a few games of poker over some whiskey. Whatever, he was fine and the more time it took him to be presentable was getting embarrassing.
Stepping away from the sink, Eames looked at himself one more time in the mirror, shaking his head. He wasn't stupid; he also knew it was possible whatever had happened to him had to do with the bruises on his face and his still aching ribs and wrist. But that was bloody unlikely, he decided quickly, as he went to exit the room.
Ariadne was outside, leaning against the opposite wall, looking bored. 'Oh, hey,' she said, falling into step beside Eames as they walked back into the room of the warehouse. She gave him a side-glance as she asked, 'You okay?'
Eames smiled at her while silently cursing her nosiness. 'Yeah, yeah,' he said. He noticed Yusuf and Arthur, talking to each other at the table, and ignored both of them. He smiled at Ariadne instead, knowing that his smile wasn't shaky and wouldn't give anything away. 'Just got too excited at the prospect of seeing dear Arthur again, I suppose.' He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Arthur stiffen at the table, no doubt ready with some snappy comeback. 'Or maybe it was the idea of the promised caffeine,' Eames finished, grabbing one of the two coffees left abandoned in their paper carrier.
'That's Ariadne's,' Arthur said from a few feet away.
Eames willed himself not to jump, not to shake, not to freak out in any noticeable way as he turned to look at Arthur. 'What?'
'You take your coffee disgustingly sweet, with milk and three sugars. That one's yours,' Arthur said, motioning to the final remaining coffee.
Any other day and Eames would have taken this as an opportunity to make fun of the fact that Arthur apparently knew how he took his coffee, mocking him all day with ideas of when their wedding should be and what not. Today, though, Eames just put the coffee he was holding back and grabbed the other. 'Cheers,' he said, looking straight at Arthur as if it were a challenge, before walking to Yusuf at the table, once again willing his heart to slow down.
Yusuf gave him a weird look, one that was no doubt echoed by Arthur, but Eames ignored both of them. 'Okay then, gentlemen - and lady - shall we get to work?' Arthur said a second later, and Eames had never been so glad for that frustratingly unflappable professional demeanour.
Part Three
Pairing: Eventual Arthur/Eames
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, memory loss, and eventually will deal with non-con.
Summary: Eames is kidnapped in Mombasa and only starts to remember what happened after seeing Arthur a few weeks later… (Based off of this prompt from the inceptionkink meme, but changed quite a bit.)
Word Count: This part is 1,879.
Disclaimer/Author's note: Like the first part, this part was beta'd by the amazing fitz_y and first posted unbeta'd on the kink meme - this is the slightly better version, with a few small changes. Also, none of the characters, machines, or situations you recognise are mine. Part One here.
Part Two
Two weeks later they were both in London. His wrist hadn't been broken, just sprained, and Eames had only just taken off the bandage he had been wearing, worried it was ruining the lines of the sleeves of his shirts. His face and torso were still stained with bruises, but they had faded mostly to a dull yellow that gave his skin a rather unhealthy tinge. Used to fielding a lot of questions about the marks, Eames had perfected an impressive story about a street gang and a lovely Italian female tourist who needed saving that fooled almost everyone.
He still remembered nothing, but now knew that he had been out for almost 48 hours - two whole days gone from his life - not just gone, but taken, somehow, by some thugs. The marks on his wrist meant that it could be have been some sort of extraction - or worse yet, inception - and he sometimes thought that, technically, he should be warning a few people that men in balaclavas might come for them. But he had faith in the security of his mind - they were trained and put in place by the best, after all - and he certainly didn't feel like anything had been taken away or added. Plus, he knew there would be a rather long list of people to warn and frankly he wasn't sure where he would start.
Arthur had called Yusuf, Ariadne, and Eames to London for a job and Eames figured that between the best chemist, architect, and pointman/extractor in the business, if anything had been extracted or incepted from him, someone was sure to notice.
'So, the dream team back together again, huh?' he said as way of greeting, surprising Ariadne in the warehouse Arthur had finagled for their workspace. Ariadne smiled and hugged Eames tightly as he looked around over her petite shoulder. Not quite as nice as the warehouse Saito had bought for them, but certainly nicer than a lot of jobs Eames had pulled.
'Oh my god!' Ariadne said, interrupting her own greetings, as she caught a look at Eames' face. 'What the hell happened to you?'
Eames grimaced and brought a hand to his cheek. 'Its a long sordid tale of intrigue and danger, with yours truly as the hero.'
Ariadne looked disbelieving, as she took in his fully bruised appearance. Most of the bruises on his face were gone, thankfully, and the swelling had disappeared, but Eames knew he wasn't up to his usual visual splendour with the remains of a black eye and a gash still attempting to heal on his lip. He was only thankful his suit prevented Ariadne from giving the same scrutiny to his torso, which was still littered in bruises just turning yellow.
'Involving lots of alcohol and possibly a door you walked into?' Ariadne asked sarcastically, even as she continued to eye him.
'Hm, that may sound familiar. Let's rehash it all tonight over drinks, shall we?' Eames smiled widely at her - damn, that still hurt his lip a bit - before leaning over to look at the drawings and blueprints she had been studying. 'So what are the details on this job, anyway?'
Ariadne scooped all the assorted papers into a pile and attempted to shield them from Eames' gaze. 'Arthur wants you for the dreamer of one level, but not this one, so don't look too closely or I'll be in for hours more work.'
'Two levels? Any idea what kind of job this is?'
Ariadne shrugged. 'You'll have to ask him, I guess.'
Eames looked around the warehouse again. Someone had set up all the chairs and tables they would need in one corner of the large room, the only one that seemed to be free of leaking pipes or broken windows. Definitely a step down from their last job together. 'Where is he, anyway?'
Ariadne glanced to the main door, as if this would be Arthur's cue to arrive. 'I dunno, he went to get coffees a while ago. Should be back soon.'
Eames nodded, glancing at his watch - a new purchase, after the face of his last one had been smashed during the 'warning'. Arthur, who was usually precise with time, was eight minutes late. Not usually worth noting, he supposed, except that it was Arthur and well - Eames still couldn't get the faint fear that more balaclava-shielded kidnappings might occur at any time to someone he knew.
He cast that thought out of his mind, telling himself he was ridiculous, just as Yusuf walked into the warehouse. 'Yusuf!' Ariadne cried, running to give him a hug. 'Its so good to see you guys again,' she said, still hanging onto Yusuf but looking at Eames as well.
'Nice to see you too,' Yusuf said, trying to juggle an excited Ariadne and the large bag he had carried in, presumably full of the equipment he would need to set up his lab. He looked relieved when Ariadne let him go.
Eames nodded at Yusuf. 'You should come visit,' he said, turning back to Ariadne. 'We both spend most of our time in Mombasa after all. Hit two birds with one stone, as it were. Or one flight, anyway.'
Ariadne raised an eyebrow and snorted. 'Yeah, I'll just jump onto an airplane to Kenya. I'm sure my professors - not to mention my parents - would love that. As it is everyone thinks I'm in London with some girlfriends for spring break. If they knew I was hanging out with a bunch of middle-aged men, I imagine they would not be as excited.'
Eames made an outraged face at the 'middle-aged' comment, but was saved from replying when Arthur pushed his way into the warehouse, his back against the door. He was carrying his usual briefcase, and a precariously balanced tray with four paper coffee cups in it.
As Ariadne rushed to help Arthur, Eames grabbed the edge of the table, suddenly feeling dizzy. His head swam as he watched Ariadne grab the coffees from Arthur, and as Arthur turned around to face Eames and Yusuf --
'Excuse me,' Eames choked out, aware that he sounded panicked, as he turned and fled. He darted around the corner, away from the main room of the warehouse and, more importantly, away from Arthur. Eames was gasping, suddenly covered in sweat, and he had the horrible feeling he might pass out. Relieved to see a door marked WC, he nearly fell against it.
Standing up straight once inside, Eames tried to take deeper breathes as he began to pace the length of the bathroom - actually the girl's room. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with him, but he attempted to calm himself down with long strides and matching deep breaths.
After a moment or so of this, Eames allowed himself to stop, and leaned against one of the porcelain sinks. His breath was calmer, but he was still sweating, still nervous. He looked at himself in the mirror, his bruised yellow eye in sharp relief to the paleness of his skin, and took one final deep breath. Okay. That was weird.
Eames was saved from too much personal reflection by a knock on the door, and Ariadne's voice from the other side, 'Eames, you in here?'
'Mmm, yeah, hold on,' Eames said, willing his voice to sound normal. He turned the tap on, hoping that running some cold water on his face might bring some colour back into it, and ran his hands down his face. He let the tap run a bit, getting colder, as he kept his face covered, bent over the sink. He had never had anything like this before. He was covered in sweat, his heart still pounding like he just finished an intense workout, and he was shaky all over. The worst thing was whenever Eames thought of Arthur coming into the warehouse - whenever he thought of him in the warehouse, just outside the door, really - his heart pounded more.
'What the bloody fuck is wrong with you?' Eames whispered into the mirror, after running the freezing water over his clammy face. He slapped his cheeks, which were still pale, and turned the tap off. Maybe he should have eaten a better breakfast after his brief workout that morning, in his hotel's swanky gym. Maybe this was some sort of residual hang over from the minor drinking binge he had gone on with Yusuf a few nights ago - a few games of poker over some whiskey. Whatever, he was fine and the more time it took him to be presentable was getting embarrassing.
Stepping away from the sink, Eames looked at himself one more time in the mirror, shaking his head. He wasn't stupid; he also knew it was possible whatever had happened to him had to do with the bruises on his face and his still aching ribs and wrist. But that was bloody unlikely, he decided quickly, as he went to exit the room.
Ariadne was outside, leaning against the opposite wall, looking bored. 'Oh, hey,' she said, falling into step beside Eames as they walked back into the room of the warehouse. She gave him a side-glance as she asked, 'You okay?'
Eames smiled at her while silently cursing her nosiness. 'Yeah, yeah,' he said. He noticed Yusuf and Arthur, talking to each other at the table, and ignored both of them. He smiled at Ariadne instead, knowing that his smile wasn't shaky and wouldn't give anything away. 'Just got too excited at the prospect of seeing dear Arthur again, I suppose.' He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Arthur stiffen at the table, no doubt ready with some snappy comeback. 'Or maybe it was the idea of the promised caffeine,' Eames finished, grabbing one of the two coffees left abandoned in their paper carrier.
'That's Ariadne's,' Arthur said from a few feet away.
Eames willed himself not to jump, not to shake, not to freak out in any noticeable way as he turned to look at Arthur. 'What?'
'You take your coffee disgustingly sweet, with milk and three sugars. That one's yours,' Arthur said, motioning to the final remaining coffee.
Any other day and Eames would have taken this as an opportunity to make fun of the fact that Arthur apparently knew how he took his coffee, mocking him all day with ideas of when their wedding should be and what not. Today, though, Eames just put the coffee he was holding back and grabbed the other. 'Cheers,' he said, looking straight at Arthur as if it were a challenge, before walking to Yusuf at the table, once again willing his heart to slow down.
Yusuf gave him a weird look, one that was no doubt echoed by Arthur, but Eames ignored both of them. 'Okay then, gentlemen - and lady - shall we get to work?' Arthur said a second later, and Eames had never been so glad for that frustratingly unflappable professional demeanour.
Part Three