out of the frying pan (and into the fire) part eight

[lo_saay]

OUT OF THE FRYING PAN (AND INTO THE FIRE) PART EIGHT
word count: 5,14O

The procedure to getting a surrogacy was long and complicated. State laws varied, and even states that allowed for uncompensated surrogacy were on the fence when it came to gay couples. Eames forged a lot of papers, and expertly avoided Amanda's numerous questions as to how they had managed to acquire so many legal documents so quickly.

They finally bought a house. They had been more or less living together ever since the marriage, though sometimes Eames went home after a job before coming to Arthur's. It was a habit they had picked up when dreamshare had still been illegal and dangerous, and it was a hard one to break, even after the threat of being stalked and killed because of a job gone wrong had long ago dissipated. Terminating the lease on both of their places felt weird. Somehow, it made what they were about to do real. The legal papers, Eames jerking off in a cup, Amanda artificially inseminating herself... None of those had fazed Arthur. But knowing that they no longer had the facade, the security, of two separate domiciles to hide behind scared him.

The house they found was a definite upgrade from their previous homes. Arthur had lived in a small three-room apartment. Before the legalization of dreamshare, he had never stayed in New York for long periods of time. Eames' place had even been smaller, and had been crammed with books and crap that Eames had accumulated over the years and refused to throw out.

The house was modest for people of their means, but they had never been ones to flaunt their wealth and the condominium they finally found was located on a small street, without much traffic, where each house was encircled by arrays of neatly-trimmed shrubs and colorful flowers.

For the first time in Arthur's life, he felt like he was living a normal experience. He was married and moving in with his husband, a concept he had thought of before, but had never really imagined himself actually experiencing. Mal came over and they jokingly looked over baby names they might like, though Amanda had given no news of the insemination having taken yet. Eames and Arthur met their neighbors, who were warm and welcoming, and didn't seem to care that they were two men about to become fathers.

Arthur was beginning to feel normal. So, of course, everything had to go wrong.

It started with Amanda's call, saying that she was sorry but the pregnancy hadn't taken. "We can try again, Arthur," she said softly, in that apologetic tone she had, like Arthur would burst into tears if she wasn't sweet and gentle. "In a few months, we can try again."

Then Mal woke up and started acting strangely. "She's only a bit disoriented," Cobb said. But when Arthur was over and James, more than two and a half years old now, went up to Mal to ask for a cookie and she snapped that sugar was bad for him, Arthur knew that something more was up. Her voice was hard. She spat the words out like acid, and when she looked down on James, Arthur saw that her eyes were just as hard, and just as dangerous.

"Bloody fucking idiots," Eames judged when Arthur told him about what he'd seen. "I told them all that dreaming would fuck with their heads."

Arthur suggested they sit Mal down and try to talk to her, see what was wrong, but they never got the opportunity to talk to Cobb about it. Arthur's phone rang in the middle of the afternoon.

"Mal jumped," Cobb told him in an eerily calm voice. Arthur had been lounging around the house, taking a break from the unpacking to check up on job offers, looking forsomething close to home and low-key. His hand stilled over the keyboard, and his throat was tight, unable to utter a syllable. Cobb went on regardless, his voice smooth and empty, as though he were speaking in a trance. "She said I pushed her to suicide, that I was abusive. She's got-" Cobb's voice broke, and he spent a few seconds recuperating himself. Arthur heard the shaky breathing on the other end. He was already up and getting his suitcase out of the closet before Cobb managed to speak again. "She was judged sane by, fuck, I don't know, a handful of psychiatrists. They're going to take my fucking kids away, Arthur!"

Arthur had his suitcase out on his bed, getting the clothes he had already unpacked out of the wardrobe with one hand, throwing them carelessly on the bed. "Cobb, you need to get out of the country before your passport is traced. Get on a plane and go somewhere."

"I already got a ticket. I'm packing right now."

"Good. Where are you going? I'll meet you there."

"Paris. But, Arthur-"

"I'm going to buy a ticket now. Don't wait for me at the airport. Get on the fucking plane and if I miss it, we'll meet up at Miles' place. Do you hear me?"

"Arthur, you can't just leave."

Cobb was trying to put on a brave front, but if Arthur knew his friend at all, he was freaking out. Already the calmness in his voice had been replaced by a tremor which made each word tremble with uncertainty. Speaking about what had happened had made it real, Arthur knew, and by the time Cobb landed in Paris, he would be a mess. Arthur had to be there.

"I'll see you in Paris," he said sharply, leaving no room for discussion. He hung up before Cobb could argue.

"Who are you going to see in Paris?" Eames asked from the doorway of the bedroom.

"Cobb," Arthur said, going back to his packing. "Mal woke, but didn't believe this was reality. She jumped." Arthur stilled in his packing, realizing just how calm he was. He didn't believe it, he realized. Mal couldn't be dead. She was Mal, for crying out loud.

Behind him, Eames was silent. When Arthur turned around, he saw the pain of the news etched on Eames' face. The pain, but not the surprise that Arthur had felt. It was like a punch to the gut. Suddenly, he hated Eames because Eames had known. Surely he must have, he knew all those human subtleties that Arthur always missed. And he hadn't done anything.

With a cry of outrage, Arthur picked up his suitcase and threw it on the floor, the few clothes he'd folded falling harmlessly onto the floor. He wanted to cry, to punch something, to hurt someone. Mal had been his best friend, like a second sister. But he felt empty, no tears threatened to fall, and instead of thrashing his room, he picked up his suitcase and resumed his packing.

Eames watched Arthur pack in silence, but it wasn't until Arthur went to leave that Eames barred his way.

"You can't go."

"Fuck you," Arthur spat. "Mal just jumped and Cobb is a wanted criminal. He's going to fall apart. I need to be with him."

"You need to be here, Arthur."

"What for? The pregnancy didn't take, and you don't need me to look after you."

Eames pursed his lips. "Do you really think you'll be able to have kids after this? After your name is put beside Cobb's, and you're barred from the states?"

That gave Arthur a pause. He hadn't thought about that, in his paroxysm to go after Cobb. He hesitated, not for long, but he hesitated. "I need to do this, Eames. Nothing else matters, right now. We can deal with that later."

Eames watched him carefully, then he pulled Arthur into a fierce hug and kissed him. "Don't let that idiot do any more stupid things. I'll do my best to keep Amanda from finding out."

Arthur wanted to cry, then. He really wanted to cling to Eames and sob, for the friend he had lost forever and the dreams he had been so close to achieving that he was giving up on. He let himself be comforted for a few seconds, then he pulled back, face hard and eyes stinging with tears he was holding back.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll call you as soon as it's safe."

Eames nodded, and Arthur went after Cobb, feeling like a true outlaw for the first time in his life.



Arthur accepted the Cobol job for a variety of reasons, but the predominant reason was the plain fact that Cobb needed a distraction. He'd spent the first weeks in France crying and yelling and thrashing their hotel room, and Arthur knew that he was on the verge of losing it himself and possibly killing Cobb if something wasn't done about the situation.

The brilliant 'something' that popped up was Nash. Nash had been one of the many in the dreamshare community who hadn't adhered to the legalization of dreamshare, and had gone abroad to keep doing the dirty, illegal jobs. Arthur hadn't spoken to him in a good few months, but he'd gotten the memo about Mal's death and sought them out. To be fair, the only reason he had been able to find them was because Arthur had let themselves be found. He had left hints to his partners in dreamshare, so he could be contacted if some jobs popped up and they were in need of one.

The Cobol job Nash offered them was ridiculously well paid because it was stupidly dangerous. It required long hours of work and no distractions. It was exactly what Cobb needed. Arthur didn't entertain the notion that they would fuck up. Sure, it was a hard, dangerous job, but it wasn't anything they had never done before, and Cobb threw himself into the job with a fervor that only a man who had lost his wife due to insanity and children due to exile could possess.

Of course, in the end, Nash was the one who fucked up when he couldn't even be thorough enough to get the carpet fabric right and Saito realized he was still dreaming.

Honestly, having a bounty on their heads for the fucked up job did not help their situation in the least, considering they were wanted criminals who were most likely on Interpol's radar. Arthur was only beginning to think of how many years they would have to lay low before they could walk the streets of a major city without being shot at by one of Cobol's goons when a helicopter pulled up and Saito asked them to run a fucking inception job on Fischer Morrow.

Of course, Cobb said yes.

**

When Cobb left to find Eames, Arthur took out his cellphone reserved for the States and turned it on. He hadn't used it in a few months, the risk being too high, and he preferred to communicate with Eames by mail, since it was a tad more secure. But he had to warn Eames of Cobb's arrival, and he knew Eames was most likely to reach him first by text than by e-mail.

His phone vibrated for thirty seconds straight after he turned it on. He stared dumbly at his screen, fifteen missed calls and another three dozen texts in the last two weeks, all from Amanda.

The texts all read the same thing 'Call me,' though some of the recent ones expressed more worry at Arthur's silence, wondering if he was okay, saying that she couldn't get a hold of Eames either, who had fucked off to Mombasa and hadn't been returning any of her messages either.

Panic clawed at Arthur's throat. Had Amanda gotten hurt? He forced himself to remain calm. He had other priorities, and Amanda had already been waiting to hear from him for weeks, she could wait another few hours.

He texted Eames first. Say no to Cobb. Simple, and probably a little cryptic, but he couldn't afford to be explicit through a text.

He bought a pre-paid phone to call Amanda, though he realized that if her phone was being tapped, it made very little difference. Amanda answered on the third ring.

"It's me," Arthur said, and then had to pull the phone away from his ear as Amanda screeched into the mouthpiece.

"You fucker," she screamed. "Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you for ages! I was so fucking worried!"

"I'm sorry, I've been busy," Arthur said, though he realized it was a poor excuse. He couldn't exactly give her the truth, now could he? "I can't stay long, though, what's up?"

"What's up? What's up?" Amanda laughed, and Arthur was surprised that it was a genuine, excited laugh. Definitely not one he had been expecting, given the circumstances. What she said next explained it all, and he felt like his chest had been ripped open and emptied out. "I'm pregnant is what's up! Three months along. It's yours- I mean, it's Eames'. You're going to be a daddy, Arthur!" She laughed again, but Arthur wanted to cry. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening, not when he was about to face the most dangerous job of his career and the chances of him not coming back out were close to a hundred percent.

"W-what?" He swallowed thickly and tried again. "How is that even possible? You didn't get pregnant, you told me so..."

Amanda was so excited that Arthur's hollow tone didn't even register, not at first. "I never told you, but Brad and I had a lot of trouble getting pregnant as well. So, we kind of froze some of Eames', well, you know, and I tried again. It took. I didn't want to tell you sooner. The first trimester is always iffy, especially since I had a miscarriage my first time. I didn't want to give you guys false hope. But, it's basically for sure now. Aren't you excited? When are you coming back?"

Arthur's chest was wide open, raw and bleeding. He had to sit down, and he only realized once he'd collapsed in a chair that he was gripping the phone so tightly he was surprised it hadn't crushed in his fist yet. "I-I don't know," he whispered, thinking of the baby he'd given up on. Thinking of the kids Cobb had left behind. Thinking how they both may never see them.

Amanda sobered. "Are you okay, Arthur? You sound really weird."

"I'm just tired," he lied quickly, and he knew Amanda would mistake the dread in his voice for fatigue. She had no other reason to believe otherwise. "Listen, I'm really swamped right now, so I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I can. I'll try to get in touch with Eames."

"I love you. Get home quickly."

"I love you too." The words stuck in Arthur's throat, as they had never been so true. "I'll try. I swear, I will."

He hung up wishing he could call Eames to tell him. It was the only way to convince him to refuse Cobb. But he couldn't risk the call. Amanda may have been safe, but there were too many eyes on Eames. Cobb going to Mombasa had already been enough folly as it was.

Arthur just had to pray that Eames would be wise enough to heed Arthur's first warning and refuse Cobb.

Of course, he didn't.

**

Arthur pulled Eames aside the second it was safe to do so. The new girl, Ariadne, had sharp eyes that missed very little. They had just met, and already Arthur could tell that she had some uncanny ability to read people, like Eames could. Thankfully, she seemed to have been struck by Cobb and gave him much more attention, which allowed Arthur to slip off into an empty room with Eames.

"Are you mentally retarded or something?" Arthur hissed. He wanted to yell, to punch Eames in his stupid face, but that would attract the attention of the others and he couldn't let them know, Cobb least of all, that there was going to be tension between them. "I told you to refuse Cobb."

"Are you mentally retarded?" Eames snarled right back. "This is fucking Inception, Arthur. I wasn't about to sit back and twiddle my thumbs while you went off and got yourself killed."

"You should be back in the states looking after Amanda."

"Oh, please," Eames rolled his eyes. "Amanda is a grown woman, Arthur. No one's gone after her so far, so I doubt they will."

"Cobol-"

"-probably don't even know she's related to you, if I know you at all."

Arthur sucked on his teeth. Eames would be singing a different tune if he knew Amanda was pregnant with their child. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he stalled. What good could come of the news? Eames would never leave without Arthur, and what would Arthur say to Cobb? 'I know I promised to look after you, but I have a kid of my own now, so screw you, get back to yours by yourself?' Somehow, he couldn't see himself delivering that blow to his best friend.

No, it wasn't the right time for the news. He would tell Eames after, when they had finished Inception. If the job became a liability, he could always shoot Eames out of it, or himself, or both. They could deal with the bounties on their heads then: a bounty was always easier to deal with than actually being dead.

He heaved a sigh. "Okay, fine. We'll do this, and then we'll go home, all right? All of us."

Eames smirked. "We're going to make history, Arthur."

Arthur returned the smile, though his heart didn't feel up to it. "What, you mean again?"

**

The planning of inception was exhilarating. It had been a while since Arthur had worked a job demanding so much competence and energy, the Cobol job exempted since he had had to work with Nash, and that factor alone had put a damper on what could have been an interesting and successful job.

The fact that he was working with Eames only added to the appeal of the job. Although Eames took great pleasure in being an infuriating jerk in front of everyone, behind the scenes they had amazing, hungry sex like they hadn't had in years. It wasn't as though their sex drive had diminished over the years, but there was something about knowing that this could be the end of the road which just spiked up the hormones and let loose on the pheromones. Soon, Eames' childish jabs, such as laughing meanly whenever Yusuf pushed Arthur off his chair (when testing the drug) or tipping Arthur's chair (to 'demonstrate' to Ariadne what a kick was) became their own sort of foreplay.

When it came time to run the job, Arthur was as confident in their plan as he was ever going to get, considering the volatile experiment they were running. He tried to not think too much of his unborn child, and especially not about Eames' reaction once he finally told him, as he boarded the plane. He tried to convince himself that the job would go well. The job had to go well.

The job went to shit quickly. The freight train and the militarized mind, Arthur could have dealt with that. He knew he'd fucked up and there was no excuse for it, but so had Cobb. This paled in comparison to the news that followed.

"Limbo?" he echoed dumbly, as Eames stomped off in a fury. Arthur's head spun. This was it, there was no shooting themselves out if things got too dangerous. They either succeeded or… Well, death would have been a more merciful alternative to the mind-fuck that was limbo.

Cobb snapped at Eames not to be ridiculous. If he stayed here, then limbo was a certainty instead of a risk. Arthur stumbled toward Eames, grabbed him arm, and pulled him to the side. It was the worst timing ever. He knew now that he should have told Eames before they'd gone under. Arthur knew he was cursed, had known it ever since childhood, ever since adolescence. When was he ever going to learn his lesson?

"Amanda's pregnant," he blurted. Somewhere in the distance, the others were preparing their guns. Fischer's army would arrive any second. Cobb was looking their way, but he couldn't hear what they were saying from this distance, and more likely he believed they were just having it out about him.

"What?" Eames was frowning at him, not understanding. "No, she's not."

"Yes, she is. Three months along. She told me right before... right before you arrived for Inception. I-it's yours, Eames. It's ours."

Arthur wasn't expecting a celebration hug or a shout of joy, not under these circumstances. But the way Eames hardened himself, the look of pure anger that took over his shocked, disbelieving expression slapped Arthur in the face. Arthur knew he deserved it, but he saw hate in the downturned corner of Eames' mouth, and that hurt more than anything.

"Eames..." He reached out to him, but Eames stepped away, turned around, and left Arthur standing there without so much as a word.

There was no time to run after him, no time to talk about their feelings and especially no time to grovel, because Fischer's subconscious soldiers were pounding at the doors of the warehouse and Arthur had to pull himself together. He'd already made too many mistakes today - one could cost them the job, and the second could him his marriage. He couldn’t lose his child, as well. He had to push all thoughts to the back of his mind and continue on the job as though nothing was amiss.

They had a job to pull off.

**

Waking up in the airplane, unharmed other than from the mental pain of wondering if Cobb would ever wake up, was nothing short of a miracle. His eyes immediately sought out Eames, and the smile they shared was a momentary lapse filled with relief and amazement. They had survived an inception job. Whether the fruits of their labor would hold up after Fischer left the plane and reentered the real world remained to be seen, but the moment, it was all trivial. They had survived, and for the next few hours, that was all that mattered.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when Saito and Cobb woke up, but the tension between his shoulders kept mounting as they approached the states. Eames wouldn't meet his eyes anymore, and Arthur was scared of what he would say once they had landed.

They had no problem at customs. Arthur held his breath as Cobb stepped up to the guard and handed him the passport, but the man glanced at it, then back up at Cobb, scanned the passport, read something on his screen, and let him pass. It took even less time with Arthur, other than a few basic and customary questions, and then they were on the other side, on American territory, and the relief he felt was so profound that one would have thought he hadn't been in the states in decades, rather than a few weeks short of half a year.

As customary after a big job, they didn't communicate. Normally, they weren't even supposed to stand beside each other, but Arthur wasn't about to let Eames out of his sight. He followed him quietly, walking a few paces behind, passing as a stranger, but when Eames hailed a cab, he didn't close the door behind him, allowing Arthur to slip in quickly.

They ordered two separate rooms at the hotel, to be safe, but Arthur followed Eames up to his.

The only noise in the room when the door had closed was the loud whirring of the air conditioner in the corner. Eames dropped his carry-on duffel bag on the bed and turned to face Arthur, mouth a firm line. He looked tired, and for that, Arthur was thankful. A tired Eames, he knew how to deal with.

Still, he wasn't about to be the first to speak. That wasn't his right.

"I was never scared of turning out like my parents," Eames finally began, voice sounding as tired as he appeared to be. "I just let you believe that because it was easier than what I was actually scared of. I was scared of us, Arthur. We're not normal, and I don't think we have been for a long time - if ever, in your case," he scoffed, humorlessly.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can't end up like that fucking twat Cobb. Looking at the shit he and Mal put their kids through. Having their mother commit suicide and their father flee the country the very next day. Is that the bullshit you want to put our kid through, Arthur?"

"We're not like Cobb and Mal," Arthur pleaded, because he couldn't tell what Eames was getting at, and it was killing him.

"Aren't we?" It wasn't a question. "I can't go back to helping old fucks get off to their wet dreams feeling as good as real. Can you?"

Arthur thought of the drag of the jobs back home, how he only took them on so he wouldn't fall out of the game. All he had thought of when he'd been at work was the old jobs, his glory days. After Inception, he didn't know if he could ever talk himself into accepting such a boring fate, as he once had. "No," he admitted.

"Kids don't belong in dreamshare."

"How can you say that?" The shout escaped Arthur without a moment's thought. He was almost as surprised to hear himself say it as he was at the volume he said it at. The words echoed loudly in his ear. "Amanda is already fucking pregnant. I can't just tell her to abort the pregnancy. She's more than four months along by now."

"Oh, Arthur. With our abilities, it's never too late." His smile was sardonic. We have to make a choice," Eames told him, "a choice we should have made back before we decided to have the kid. Which do we want more, a child, or the life we have now?"

It took Arthur several seconds to remember how to breathe. "W-what? Well, isn't it obvious?"

"Is it? Maybe for you." Eames dragged a hand through his hair and dropped it, exasperated, and then delivered the final blow. "I'm not so sure myself."

Arthur lost it. "I cannot believe you are backing out," he yelled so loud he was sure he was tearing the flesh from his throat from pure volume alone, "when your sperm has already turned into a fucking fetus in my sister's fucking uterus!"

His vision was spinning from anger. He wished they were in dreamshare so he could dream up the biggest gun he could possibly imagine and blow Eames' fucking head off. As it was, he settled with grabbing the closest hard item to him, the remote control, and hurling it at Eames' face as hard as he could.

Eames didn't try to dodge it, and the remote connected with his nose so hard Arthur was sure he'd broken it. 'Good,' he thought without a hint of satisfaction as he picked his bag up off the floor, 'I hope it hurt.'

He let the door slam behind him.



The baby was tiny in his arms. Arthur was scared of dropping him, but also scared that if he held on too tightly, he was going to hurt it in some way. The notion that terrified him the most, though, was the knowledge that the baby was his from here on now to take care of.

"He's beautiful," Amanda whispered from her hospital bed. It had been a twenty-hour labor, and Amanda was disheveled and exhausted. She had been sleeping when Arthur had entered the room, but his steps must have woken her.

Arthur smiled down at her. "How are you feeling?" It felt like the right thing to say, though she looked like hell and probably felt like it too. Just the thought of labor made Arthur wince. He had been tortured in his days, but even so, he knew it had to be a whole different kind of pain. At least he'd always had the knowledge of knowing that he would awake without any pain. Well, all but once.

"I can't believe you're asking me that," Amanda laughed weakly. "Have you thought of a name yet?"

Arthur chewed on his lip. He'd done more than his fair share of reading up on how to be a parent since he'd gotten back home after the inception job. Somehow, though, he had always put off that part. It hadn't felt right, choosing by himself. Even after everything.

Amanda read his mind. "No Eames?" she asked, tentatively, though Arthur was past the stage where his name felt like reliving the betrayal all over again. When he refused to reply, Amanda pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Arthur, what the hell happened in Europe?"

Amanda didn't know the details of the whole exchange. Arthur hadn't had the heart to tell her how Eames had backed off, still pumped on the edge of adrenaline from the job, wanting to relive the moment over and over again. Arthur knew that was what it had been, because he had felt it too. But he'd known of what was waiting back home, and he had wanted that more than anything. He supposed Eames' conviction had been a little more trepid than his.

"Nothing. He just had a little crisis of faith, or maybe a relapse." Arthur frowned. "Could go both ways, I suppose, depending on the angle taken to look at the situation." Amanda frowned, obviously not understanding, but that was okay. Arthur smiled down at his son. "He'll be back." He said it more to the baby than to Amanda.

Arthur didn't know if it made him weak or pathetic or an idiot or a perfect combination of the three, but he was waiting for Eames. No matter what, the day Eames would come knocking at their door, Arthur would accept him back. The tiny fingers closed around Arthur's finger; he had long, lean fingers, and the baby's fist managed to close around one of his, just barely. Arthur smiled. He knew that when Eames came back, those fingers wouldn’t be able to fit around Eames' fat ones. The thought made him laugh, because he knew Eames would come back. Maybe a year, maybe two, but he'd definitely be back.

And what was time to Arthur? He'd spent more than half of his life manipulating it and reliving it time and time again.

He rocked the baby in his arms, smiling. "Yeah. Daddy'll be back."