[Fic] Baby, Please Remember Me Once More - Part Three
Title: Baby, Please Remember Me Once More
Author: duckgirlie
Team: ROMANCE!
Prompt: devotion, home.
Summary: “Sorry. I know you? I mean, of course I know you, at least a bit. Your number’s in my wallet. But I don’t know you, not at all.”
Word Count: ~1000 (this part)
Rated: PG
one | two
Arthur pulled the car up outside the hospital and paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. Cobb gave him exactly two minutes before he coughed gently to interrupt.
"How's he presenting?"
"Head wound, broken arm or dislocated shoulder, significant damage to right leg."
"And the important stuff?"
Arthur sighed. "He seems normal, for a twenty-three-year-old. Except I didn't know him when he was twenty-three, so I don't know if that's normal for him, or not."
"And you think another dreamer might have done it?"
"I don't know. I didn't get a good look at his head wound, but it doesn't look significant enough for that kind of memory loss. But then, does anything ever look as bad as it should? I have no idea."
Cobb looked at him carefully before nodding. "Okay. We'll work from that perspective for now, anyway. Does he know I'm coming?
"He knows I'm getting some people we work with - which he's surmised is at 'something dodgy' - but aside from that, no. I didn't think explaining would do any use, frankly."
Cobb nodded again and opened the door. "Let's not waste time then. You ready?"
"Yeah."
Arthur coughed slightly when he opened the door, warning Eames they were about to enter. In the bed, Eames looked up from his computer and stiffened slightly when he took them in, his posture shifting slightly. It took Arthur a second to figure out what was going on, and when he did, he nearly laughed.
Cobb does project that teacher vibe, and Eames - David - is still short enough out of university that that means something, even if it was just an instinctive shift from relaxed to alert. But what would look normal on David just looked weird on Eames' older frame, and it wasn't particularly funny when he thought about it.
"Eames?" Cobb asked.
Eames raised an eyebrow for a second, before shrugging. "Do I not go by 'David' anymore? Is that like, a work thing? Or are we fugitives or something?"
Cobb glanced over at Arthur, who shrugged, before turning back to Eames.
Eames grinned widely. "I fucking knew it man! No wonder you haven't called my mum yet, she'll be fucking livid. Probably knock you one before she can even calm down enough to deal with me."
“To be fair,” Arthur interrupted, “I don’t think we’re technically fugitives at this exact moment. Though I can’t be sure what you were doing before you ended up in here.”
“Fine, fine. But you can be the one to tell her that, right? I’m saying nothing.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Cobb said. “We’re not calling anyone until we have a better handle on what the situation is.”
“So what, you gonna spring me out of here, or something? Middle of the night stuff? Cause like, I’m not going to be crawling through no windows for the next while, yeah?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Alright. Just, y’know, keep me updated, right? I know I’m effectively useless right now, but I’m not really in the mood for surprises, yeah?”
“Of course not.” Cobb handed his bag to Arthur and turned back to Eames. “I just need to make some phone calls, but I’ll be back soon.”
As soon as he was gone, Eames sank back into his pillows and sighed. Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“Cobb is hardly as intimidating as that.”
“Is that his name? I don’t know, he kind of reminds me of the shrink my sister had to see when she was going through her difficult phase. Like he knows what I’m thinking, but isn’t going to tell me.”
Not the worst assessment in the world, Arthur thought, but stayed silent. Instead, he walked over to the bedside locker to shift through the rest of the stuff from Eames’ pockets. It was about what he was expecting, spare change in about five different currencies, a credit card with the name mostly obliterated, and three different passports. No wonder the doctor’d said his identity was unclear. Although, that didn’t explain why there wasn’t a cop standing about, trying to be subtle.
He flipped the South African passport open and rolled his eyes.
“Only you would have a fake passport with your real name on it.”
Eames eyes widened and he grabbed the passport out of Arthur’s hand.
“This is a fake? Like six people have looked at this so far. It’s really good.”
“It ought to be. You made it.”
Eames looked at him again, disbelieving until Arthur nodded.
“Shit man. My mum’s going to fucking obliterate me.”
“Well, we’ve kept it from her so far, nothing says we can’t keep it a little longer.”
“I can’t lie to my mum, Arthur. I’ve tried, it doesn’t work.”
“Then it’s obviously a skill you’ve picked up in the last nine years.”
Eames looked like he was about to argue, but instead sank back into the pillows he’d risen out of.
“Fuck. I keep forgetting, you know? And then it’s just - I’m like, I should call Dara, right? I mean, I know we broke up, but it hasn’t been that long, and I’m in fucking hospital, right? He’ll probably want to know I’m not dead or anything. But then it’s like - no, it’s been fucking ages, and he probably doesn’t remember me any more then I remember him, yeah?”
Arthur didn’t say anything.
“You know me, right?”
“Yes.”
“For how long? I mean, do I still have any of the friends I used to have?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“Fuck.”
Arthur pulled the chair slightly closer to the bed and sat down, but remained silent.
“Shit man, I’m sorry. You can totally just ignore me when I go like that, okay? It just takes so getting used to. The future, I mean.”
“It’s fine.”
Eames cast his eyes around the room, like he was trying to find a less maudlin topic of conversation.
“So this Eames bloke, yeah? I guess he’s started wearing underwear again?”
four
Author: duckgirlie
Team: ROMANCE!
Prompt: devotion, home.
Summary: “Sorry. I know you? I mean, of course I know you, at least a bit. Your number’s in my wallet. But I don’t know you, not at all.”
Word Count: ~1000 (this part)
Rated: PG
one | two
Arthur pulled the car up outside the hospital and paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. Cobb gave him exactly two minutes before he coughed gently to interrupt.
"How's he presenting?"
"Head wound, broken arm or dislocated shoulder, significant damage to right leg."
"And the important stuff?"
Arthur sighed. "He seems normal, for a twenty-three-year-old. Except I didn't know him when he was twenty-three, so I don't know if that's normal for him, or not."
"And you think another dreamer might have done it?"
"I don't know. I didn't get a good look at his head wound, but it doesn't look significant enough for that kind of memory loss. But then, does anything ever look as bad as it should? I have no idea."
Cobb looked at him carefully before nodding. "Okay. We'll work from that perspective for now, anyway. Does he know I'm coming?
"He knows I'm getting some people we work with - which he's surmised is at 'something dodgy' - but aside from that, no. I didn't think explaining would do any use, frankly."
Cobb nodded again and opened the door. "Let's not waste time then. You ready?"
"Yeah."
Arthur coughed slightly when he opened the door, warning Eames they were about to enter. In the bed, Eames looked up from his computer and stiffened slightly when he took them in, his posture shifting slightly. It took Arthur a second to figure out what was going on, and when he did, he nearly laughed.
Cobb does project that teacher vibe, and Eames - David - is still short enough out of university that that means something, even if it was just an instinctive shift from relaxed to alert. But what would look normal on David just looked weird on Eames' older frame, and it wasn't particularly funny when he thought about it.
"Eames?" Cobb asked.
Eames raised an eyebrow for a second, before shrugging. "Do I not go by 'David' anymore? Is that like, a work thing? Or are we fugitives or something?"
Cobb glanced over at Arthur, who shrugged, before turning back to Eames.
Eames grinned widely. "I fucking knew it man! No wonder you haven't called my mum yet, she'll be fucking livid. Probably knock you one before she can even calm down enough to deal with me."
“To be fair,” Arthur interrupted, “I don’t think we’re technically fugitives at this exact moment. Though I can’t be sure what you were doing before you ended up in here.”
“Fine, fine. But you can be the one to tell her that, right? I’m saying nothing.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Cobb said. “We’re not calling anyone until we have a better handle on what the situation is.”
“So what, you gonna spring me out of here, or something? Middle of the night stuff? Cause like, I’m not going to be crawling through no windows for the next while, yeah?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Alright. Just, y’know, keep me updated, right? I know I’m effectively useless right now, but I’m not really in the mood for surprises, yeah?”
“Of course not.” Cobb handed his bag to Arthur and turned back to Eames. “I just need to make some phone calls, but I’ll be back soon.”
As soon as he was gone, Eames sank back into his pillows and sighed. Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“Cobb is hardly as intimidating as that.”
“Is that his name? I don’t know, he kind of reminds me of the shrink my sister had to see when she was going through her difficult phase. Like he knows what I’m thinking, but isn’t going to tell me.”
Not the worst assessment in the world, Arthur thought, but stayed silent. Instead, he walked over to the bedside locker to shift through the rest of the stuff from Eames’ pockets. It was about what he was expecting, spare change in about five different currencies, a credit card with the name mostly obliterated, and three different passports. No wonder the doctor’d said his identity was unclear. Although, that didn’t explain why there wasn’t a cop standing about, trying to be subtle.
He flipped the South African passport open and rolled his eyes.
“Only you would have a fake passport with your real name on it.”
Eames eyes widened and he grabbed the passport out of Arthur’s hand.
“This is a fake? Like six people have looked at this so far. It’s really good.”
“It ought to be. You made it.”
Eames looked at him again, disbelieving until Arthur nodded.
“Shit man. My mum’s going to fucking obliterate me.”
“Well, we’ve kept it from her so far, nothing says we can’t keep it a little longer.”
“I can’t lie to my mum, Arthur. I’ve tried, it doesn’t work.”
“Then it’s obviously a skill you’ve picked up in the last nine years.”
Eames looked like he was about to argue, but instead sank back into the pillows he’d risen out of.
“Fuck. I keep forgetting, you know? And then it’s just - I’m like, I should call Dara, right? I mean, I know we broke up, but it hasn’t been that long, and I’m in fucking hospital, right? He’ll probably want to know I’m not dead or anything. But then it’s like - no, it’s been fucking ages, and he probably doesn’t remember me any more then I remember him, yeah?”
Arthur didn’t say anything.
“You know me, right?”
“Yes.”
“For how long? I mean, do I still have any of the friends I used to have?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“Fuck.”
Arthur pulled the chair slightly closer to the bed and sat down, but remained silent.
“Shit man, I’m sorry. You can totally just ignore me when I go like that, okay? It just takes so getting used to. The future, I mean.”
“It’s fine.”
Eames cast his eyes around the room, like he was trying to find a less maudlin topic of conversation.
“So this Eames bloke, yeah? I guess he’s started wearing underwear again?”
four