The further you go (2/?)
Title: The further you go
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Arthur falls into a coma, Eames decides to go after him. Down in the unknown world of Arthur's mind, he finds himself confronted with the point man's past as much as his own...
Cobb looks down at him. He looks weary, but not surprised in the least.
"You didn't expect to immediately find him," he says matter-of factly. Eames shakes his head and tries to breathe calmly.
"No, that's true. But I'm not sure what it is I found, either." He removes the needle and sits up to properly look at the other man.
"This proves it," he says, "Arthur is a real stick in the mud who always bottles everything up."
Cobb huffs, but there is no amusement. Of course there isn't.
"Well, it seems we have to sedate him," Eames continues, knowing there will be protest before he even so much as finishes the sentence in his own head.
"You can't sedate a man in a coma," Cobb says, and it's angry but half-heartedly so, perhaps because he knows who he is speaking to.
Eames doesn't want to share his findings, and he has no idea how much Cobb already knows. There is a lot about Mal he used to keep to himself back in the day, and Eames' defiant side is telling him that this time, he has no right to hear the whole story either, even though no one knows yet what kind of story that might be.
Arthur is burying something down there, something that is slowly but steadily destroying what felt like good memories.
**
The first time Eames saw Arthur with a weapon in his hand was awkward at best. Killing wasn't easy, and for some it never would be. There was fear even in the dream, the fear of pain, the fear that made them fumble for their totems just to make sure that there was no way this could be reality.
The fear that after the dream, no waking would follow.
"Would you do me the favour?" Eames asked, and gestured towards his head.
After a pause, Arthur aimed and shot, but the bullet missed.
Eames almost laughed at the sour face Arthur made at the gun in his hand, then asked: "Is it a problem?"
"So you don't have a problem with shooting people?"
Eames' smile turned guilty.
"Not anymore."
**
When Eames returns a few days later, there is no one next to Arthur but himself.
Arthur looks peaceful, just as if he is having a good dream, maybe his first dream in years, but somehow Eames hates him like that. His hair is messed up, and in the hospital gown he looks thin and weak.
The forger brushes Arthur's hair from his forehead and takes his hand.
"Oh darling," he whispers, "What did you do?"
Eames takes a small flask from his trouser pocket. Since the inception Yusuf has had a lot of time and most importantly, enough funds to enhance the sedative. The dreams have become slightly more unstable again, but chances of falling into limbo have decreased, too, waking up by traditional means is once again possible, even if Eames sinks further into the dream.
To the forger this is necessary - he has no intention of returning without Arthur this time.
When he hooks onto the machine, the words he heard in Arthur's subconscious come to his mind.
He really didn't mean to.
**
It feels weird to fall asleep in the first level of the dream, as unfinished it is. Eames feels uncharacteristically insecure, as if something might creep out of the shadows of nothingness while he is asleep, but thankfully the urge to drag Arthur into the light and tell him to stop hiding is still stronger.
Many things, especially in dreams, can only become unsettling if you let them.
He slips down another level, only to open his eyes to bright sunlight. The noises of a busy street fill his ears, cars, driving way too fast, continuous honking and shouting. There are a lot of people out on the street, and the the contrast to the level above is so startling that it takes Eames a few moments to realise that he is in Paris.
Just as he takes his first step someone knocks into him, sending a stack of papers flying everywhere.
"Pardon," the other person says, but the word has an accent to it. America, Eames thinks, possibly California.
"Nothing happened," he says absent-mindedly.
"Oh, you're not French," the stranger says, gathering up his papers from below Eames' feet, "Somehow that's a relief. I'm still getting nervous when I have to... you know... actually speak French."
Something about the other's voice catches Eames' attention, and he suddenly finds himself face to face with a twenty-year old Arthur.
"This is Arthur," he thinks, because it is Arthur's face, but this person is smiling, and even though Eames has yet to answer him he keeps talking, and his hair is tousled and he wears a ridiculous chequered vest over his shirt and trainers, and under any other circumstances, Eames would have laughed by now.
"It appears I'm a little lost," he says then, all posh British tourist, and Arthur blinks at him.
"Well, I was on my way to the Sorbonne," he says slowly, the word rolling off his tongue like something altogether unfamiliar yet exciting, "There is a metro station close by. I'm sure someone can help you there."
Eames is still confused at best. He has expected ghosts with chainsaws, blood and darkness, not a twenty-year old boy with dimples in his cheeks on his way to university.
"Okay," he decides and tries to grin at Arthur. "Thank you."
**
"So, the Sorbonne," Eames says conversationally as they walk next to each other,
"You a student, then?"
Arthur nods enthusiastically.
"Yeah, I'm studying to become an architect."
Eames stumbles.
He thought about this setting for awhile now, and logically Paris is where everything ran together, Mal, Cobb and apparently also Arthur.
To Eames it's not a big deal, but he hasn't forgotten the unfinished world in the dream above, and the feeling that there is a connection to the memory he is moving in right at this moment won't leave him.
He looks at Arthur, happy, excited, young Arthur and suddenly wishes he would not have to see what turned him into the Arthur of the present.
**
Arthur watched Eames diassemble the PASIV, arms crossed over his chest.
"How come you know how to use it when you don't own one yourself?" he asked, "I've never seen you with one."
Eames smiles ruefully, or at least what could be his version of rueful if he ever felt that way.
"I once helped someone steal one," he said, and the truth is easy to admit because that is about all he remembers of the incident.
He wouldn't tell Arthur that there was actually a lot he didn't remember. Maybe his memory started focusing on the important aspects of his job, people and all the little details that were worth noting, and maybe he lost himself in all the jobs he pulled over the years, but Eames' memory was in tatters at best.
"So you are a common thief," Arthur spat, but the malice was mild.
"Maybe I was," Eames said, more to himself than to Arthur, and closed the lid of the device.
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Arthur falls into a coma, Eames decides to go after him. Down in the unknown world of Arthur's mind, he finds himself confronted with the point man's past as much as his own...
Cobb looks down at him. He looks weary, but not surprised in the least.
"You didn't expect to immediately find him," he says matter-of factly. Eames shakes his head and tries to breathe calmly.
"No, that's true. But I'm not sure what it is I found, either." He removes the needle and sits up to properly look at the other man.
"This proves it," he says, "Arthur is a real stick in the mud who always bottles everything up."
Cobb huffs, but there is no amusement. Of course there isn't.
"Well, it seems we have to sedate him," Eames continues, knowing there will be protest before he even so much as finishes the sentence in his own head.
"You can't sedate a man in a coma," Cobb says, and it's angry but half-heartedly so, perhaps because he knows who he is speaking to.
Eames doesn't want to share his findings, and he has no idea how much Cobb already knows. There is a lot about Mal he used to keep to himself back in the day, and Eames' defiant side is telling him that this time, he has no right to hear the whole story either, even though no one knows yet what kind of story that might be.
Arthur is burying something down there, something that is slowly but steadily destroying what felt like good memories.
**
The first time Eames saw Arthur with a weapon in his hand was awkward at best. Killing wasn't easy, and for some it never would be. There was fear even in the dream, the fear of pain, the fear that made them fumble for their totems just to make sure that there was no way this could be reality.
The fear that after the dream, no waking would follow.
"Would you do me the favour?" Eames asked, and gestured towards his head.
After a pause, Arthur aimed and shot, but the bullet missed.
Eames almost laughed at the sour face Arthur made at the gun in his hand, then asked: "Is it a problem?"
"So you don't have a problem with shooting people?"
Eames' smile turned guilty.
"Not anymore."
**
When Eames returns a few days later, there is no one next to Arthur but himself.
Arthur looks peaceful, just as if he is having a good dream, maybe his first dream in years, but somehow Eames hates him like that. His hair is messed up, and in the hospital gown he looks thin and weak.
The forger brushes Arthur's hair from his forehead and takes his hand.
"Oh darling," he whispers, "What did you do?"
Eames takes a small flask from his trouser pocket. Since the inception Yusuf has had a lot of time and most importantly, enough funds to enhance the sedative. The dreams have become slightly more unstable again, but chances of falling into limbo have decreased, too, waking up by traditional means is once again possible, even if Eames sinks further into the dream.
To the forger this is necessary - he has no intention of returning without Arthur this time.
When he hooks onto the machine, the words he heard in Arthur's subconscious come to his mind.
He really didn't mean to.
**
It feels weird to fall asleep in the first level of the dream, as unfinished it is. Eames feels uncharacteristically insecure, as if something might creep out of the shadows of nothingness while he is asleep, but thankfully the urge to drag Arthur into the light and tell him to stop hiding is still stronger.
Many things, especially in dreams, can only become unsettling if you let them.
He slips down another level, only to open his eyes to bright sunlight. The noises of a busy street fill his ears, cars, driving way too fast, continuous honking and shouting. There are a lot of people out on the street, and the the contrast to the level above is so startling that it takes Eames a few moments to realise that he is in Paris.
Just as he takes his first step someone knocks into him, sending a stack of papers flying everywhere.
"Pardon," the other person says, but the word has an accent to it. America, Eames thinks, possibly California.
"Nothing happened," he says absent-mindedly.
"Oh, you're not French," the stranger says, gathering up his papers from below Eames' feet, "Somehow that's a relief. I'm still getting nervous when I have to... you know... actually speak French."
Something about the other's voice catches Eames' attention, and he suddenly finds himself face to face with a twenty-year old Arthur.
"This is Arthur," he thinks, because it is Arthur's face, but this person is smiling, and even though Eames has yet to answer him he keeps talking, and his hair is tousled and he wears a ridiculous chequered vest over his shirt and trainers, and under any other circumstances, Eames would have laughed by now.
"It appears I'm a little lost," he says then, all posh British tourist, and Arthur blinks at him.
"Well, I was on my way to the Sorbonne," he says slowly, the word rolling off his tongue like something altogether unfamiliar yet exciting, "There is a metro station close by. I'm sure someone can help you there."
Eames is still confused at best. He has expected ghosts with chainsaws, blood and darkness, not a twenty-year old boy with dimples in his cheeks on his way to university.
"Okay," he decides and tries to grin at Arthur. "Thank you."
**
"So, the Sorbonne," Eames says conversationally as they walk next to each other,
"You a student, then?"
Arthur nods enthusiastically.
"Yeah, I'm studying to become an architect."
Eames stumbles.
He thought about this setting for awhile now, and logically Paris is where everything ran together, Mal, Cobb and apparently also Arthur.
To Eames it's not a big deal, but he hasn't forgotten the unfinished world in the dream above, and the feeling that there is a connection to the memory he is moving in right at this moment won't leave him.
He looks at Arthur, happy, excited, young Arthur and suddenly wishes he would not have to see what turned him into the Arthur of the present.
**
Arthur watched Eames diassemble the PASIV, arms crossed over his chest.
"How come you know how to use it when you don't own one yourself?" he asked, "I've never seen you with one."
Eames smiles ruefully, or at least what could be his version of rueful if he ever felt that way.
"I once helped someone steal one," he said, and the truth is easy to admit because that is about all he remembers of the incident.
He wouldn't tell Arthur that there was actually a lot he didn't remember. Maybe his memory started focusing on the important aspects of his job, people and all the little details that were worth noting, and maybe he lost himself in all the jobs he pulled over the years, but Eames' memory was in tatters at best.
"So you are a common thief," Arthur spat, but the malice was mild.
"Maybe I was," Eames said, more to himself than to Arthur, and closed the lid of the device.