Inception - Breadcrumbs for a dead and dying man
Summary: For all her wit and quick learning, Ariadne doesn’t understand the fact that they not only are losing one of their friends, but two.
Rating: R (for swearing)
Author’s notes: Be warned, it’s a death!fic. No kidding, I cried writing it. Also, I was too impatient to wait for a beta and English is still not my mother tongue.
Disclaimer: The moment unicorns are real, I make money with this.
---
Breadcrumbs for a dead and dying man
---
“ - and then I said not even if I’m dying, Eames”, Arthur tells him, and doesn’t realize there’s no first half to the sentence. There never was, but Dom just nods and tries not to wince. He’s had enough of death for a lifetime.
Arthur interrupts his story. “Sorry”, he says. “I know Mal - “
“No, it’s not that.” Dom tries a smile and fails - but only a little. “She’s gone. I moved on.” He doesn’t say where to.
---
“Two months, tops.” The doctor doesn’t waste his time with a pointless I’m sorry. Dom probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway. There’s no reason to ask questions either. Coughing up blood is a pretty good indicator that the time for questions has long since passed. So he just nods and plans ahead - like he always does. Old habits die hard, he thinks, and the laugh gets caught in his throat.
---
“So Eames is all commanding and I politely decline to follow his orders - “ Arthur is in the middle of explaining an extraction he was part of a few months ago, when suddenly he stops and looks around. They’re sitting in a café in Paris and drink some heavily overpriced cappuccino that burned Dom’s tongue. For a moment everything is silent, even the harsh wind outside ceases to make a sound. The first heads start to turn in their direction.
“Arthur?” Cobb asks and waves with a hand. Arthur blinks and shakes his head. A few more seconds and the frown will be gone from his forehead, Dom knows it.
“I … nothing, sorry, maybe I need more sleep.” Arthur smiles at him, the frown gone, and Dom relaxes back into his chair.
---
With every day it gets harder to hide his plan, but only Eames calls him out on his behavior.
“You’re not planning anything stupid, are you?” he asks one day, lounging in one of these uncomfortable hospital chairs and still managing to look completely at home. As if he never set a foot outside a hospital.
Dom could answer him, but he fears that any retort would give him away. He clenches his hands to fists inside the pockets of his jacket and tries his best to ignore the other man.
“I know that I don’t really have anything to say here, but if you don’t listen to me, listen to him. He wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid,” Eames adds, and somehow it sounds like he knows more than he should. Dom takes a deep breath, counts to ten so he doesn’t clock Eames and walks away.
---
“The mark’s name was Amelia. Her employer suspected her of … “ Arthur’s voice trails off as he takes in his surroundings. It looks warm and sunny outside. Dom taps his fingers against the table and shoves the Chai Latte in front of Arthur.
“Don’t forget to drink,” he says, “otherwise it will get cold.”
“When did I - thanks”, Arthur answers absent-minded and takes a sip.
---
“They’re gone,” Eames says and there’s no surprise in his voice -- anger, yes, because this all is so fucking stupid and unfair he’s run out of words to curse it, but it would be a lie to say he’s surprised.
“Gone? How can they be gone?” Ariadne looks bewildered. Eames sighs -- sweet, young Ariadne, who spent the last weeks trying not to look as if she’s cried herself to sleep every night, but now looks older than by all rights she should be, she doesn’t understand.
“Must have sneaked out sometime during the night,” he answers and sits down in a chair next to her. He’s so tired he can feel it in his bones.
“I don’t … I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”
Eames tries not to laugh, he really does. What leaves his throat instead sounds more like fingernails scratched over broken glass. For all her wit and quick learning, Ariadne doesn’t understand the fact that they not only are losing one of their friends, but two.
---
The first time Dom sees them is on the beach. They’re only shimmering air, nothing more than a mere shadow blurring the view of the landscape. One figure raises its arm, the other slumps to the ground. They don’t leave any footprints in the wet sand when they vanish. Dom’s stomach threatens to unravel, but he can only look away after they’ve gone. Arthur stares at the sea, oblivious to it all.
“I don’t remember ever having seen such a low tide,” he says softly, and Dom stops breathing for a second while the sound of crumbling buildings reaches them from far away. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice. “Did I ever tell you about Amelia?” he asks.
“No, was she a mark?” Dom replies with a smile and lays a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
---
“We could call Saito,” Ariadne finally suggests after a long silence. Her hair is unkempt and her sweater started to smell faintly, but she doesn’t care. She’s slumped into an uncomfortable chair and looks lost and scared.
“And tell him what?”
“That … that we need to find them! They can’t be that far … not in - “ she stumbles over her own words, “not in the state he’s in.” She doesn’t say his name, too scared to paint the truth on the walls of a harsh reality. Eames lays an arm around her quivering shoulder and whishes like hell his poker chip wouldn’t fall to the side every time he throws it in the air.
“Honey,” Eames whispers, “I don’t think it will matter if we bring Saito in this or not.”
“But we could at least save one.”
Eames hugs her a little tighter and plants a kiss on her unruly hair, but doesn’t contradict her. Some things are better left unsaid.
---
The first time Arthur sees them, he and Dom are sitting on a bench in a park. It’s warm and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows. He looks more relaxed than Dom has seen him in a long time. Arthur doesn’t even wear a tie.
“We had planned to extract from Amelia the next day, but we couldn’t because ... , “ Arthur trails off and frowns. “Because … I don’t remember.” He blinks and stares at Cobb. “I don’t remember,” he says again, his voice a mixture of confusion and fear, and suddenly his eyes go wide. An uneasy feeling settles in Dom’s stomach, and he looks around to see what Arthur sees. Two figures stand behind the empty sandbox and Dom nearly lets his coffee fall because he knows them. They’re still more or less shadows, but the first distinctive features start to show. The outline of a tailored suit, the sun weakly reflecting on a black gun; Cobb swallows and his throat feels like sandpaper.
“Dom?”
“It’s nothing.” The shadows vanish in a rustle of wind, leaving only dried-up leaves behind. Dom turns around and hands Arthur the coffee. “Drink,” he says. “It’s your favorite, with cinnamon and no sugar.”
For a moment Arthur’s eyes look empty, then he takes the coffee. “Thanks”, he answers, and he only sounds the tiniest bit off.
---
They start to look for them nevertheless. It’s not in Eames nature to lie down and quietly wait for the end, and Ariadne hasn’t yet experienced such a loss to know when it’s better to just turn around and try your best to live with the pain.
They don’t find them.
It’s not that they’re not trying, it’s just that the city is too big and there’s too little time for only two people. Two days into the search Eames find Ariadne hunched over the desk in their little apartment. Her shoulders are shaking and her face is hidden beneath her wavy hair -- Eames had forced her to take a shower that morning -- and she’s crying. It breaks his heart, and once more he silently curses Cobb for putting them all through this.
“Oh, honey,” he breathes.
“We’re not going to find them, are we?” she says, her voice controlled, but he still hears the quiver of anguish in it.
He wants to say ‘No, it’s probably too late already’, he wants to be honest like he’s been all his life outside a job, but he finds he can’t. Not now, not so soon. She’s too young to sound so old, and he simply can’t take it without offering resistance.
“I’m going to call Saito,” he says and squeezes her shoulder.
---
“You shot me.”
“I shot you a lot of times,” Dom says and turns up the collar of his thick coat against the harsh wind on top of the building they’re standing on. He tries to act nonchalantly and stares at the threatening clouds in the distance.
“I don’t mean that,” Arthur corrects him and sounds pissed off. Dom raises an eyebrow, Arthur rarely sounds pissed off with him.
“Then what?”
“You shot me.”
“You already said that.”
“Where are we?”
“On top of a building. You should know, you led me here.”
“No.” Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t know that. In fact, I don’t even know where we are. What I do know is that I saw you shooting me in the head. Repeatedly. Why did I see that?”
Dom doesn’t answer. He didn’t expect Arthur to remember the shadowy figures, but he should have known. They had become more and more prominent during the last few days, more outlined. The last time in a hotel floor Dom could even identify the weapon he’d used.
“Dom.” Arthur’s voice is strained, verging on panic. Arthur doesn’t panic -- never, Dom thinks. “Please, talk to me. This doesn’t make sense … I can’t remember how we got here,” Arthur whispers, his eyes wide open and scared. The last time Dom has seen him so lost was on their first meeting.
Arthur’s hand scrambles for his totem in his left suit pocket -- he always keeps it there, Dom knows and stays silent. Arthur falls to his knees on the cold concrete, the clouds a thick dark blanket over them, and throws the dice. Its red is a stark contrast to the world of gray surrounding them. For a long time, Arthur only stares at the number the dice shows and says nothing. Then he throws the dice again and again, like it will change the outcome if he only throws it often enough. It doesn’t, but Dom already knows that. He’s been here before.
Arthur’s whole body is shaking when he gets up again, but his eyes are dead when he looks at Dom. “We’re in a dream,” he states and takes a step back towards the edge, away from Dom. “Why are we in a dream? Why did you shoot me?”
“Arthur.”
“No!” Arthur yells. “You don’t get to sound like I’m a child and forbidden of knowing what’s going on. If this is a dream I will just jump off this building and wake up,” he threatens. Jumping off buildings is Dom’s weak point, he knows, and he even feels a bit guilty for using it against him. After Mal -- and he will probably always divide time into Mal and after Mal -- he had to jump off a bridge once to escape a slow and gruesome death by projections. Dom yelled at him for half an hour afterwards, but he doesn’t say a word now.
It’s that moment of silence that makes Arthur’s skin turn cold.
He tries to remember the real world, but the last thing coming to his mind is always the Amelia-job. Only that they never got to do the extraction, because … he frowns. It’s there, the reason, just an inch outside his grasp. He closes his eyes and wills his memory to come back to him. He remembers Amelia’s smile from the pictures in the dossier handed to him. He remembers Eames’ ridiculous plan to seduce and sedate her and spouting of orders as if he was the point man. He remembers Ariadne’s laugh. And then he remembers something else, something that he somehow knows he’d rather forget. It takes a while, but then it’s there, as sharp and clear as a photograph: it’s pain and has the color of his dice, and suddenly he knows.
“I’m dying,” he says. “I’m dying and for some god forsaken reason you’re inside my dream.” It actually hurts to see the look of sheer anguish and desperation in Dom’s eyes again. It’s like Mal all over, only that this time there will be no Arthur to pick up the pieces afterwards.
He tries not to think about it when he takes the last step backwards and tumbles over the edge. The last thing he sees is Dom’s resigned face, but he doesn’t have the time to wonder about it.
---
Saito is good, Eames has to give him that.
His men are all over the city in a matter of hours, and Ariadne actually looks as if she might not cry this night. Eames is thankful for that, if for nothing else. He’s still pessimist enough to think they won’t find them, and he is fairly sure that Saito suspects the same or at least that they won’t find them alive.
Unlike Ariadne, they didn’t forget that Cobb’s life these past years depended on becoming invisible on a moment’s notice. One time even Arthur hadn’t known his hiding place and it had taken him nearly a month to drag the other man out of his drunken stupor and to get him sober enough for another job to survive.
---
Arthur awakens to a gun to his face. “What - “
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Dom shoots him in the head -- again.
---
“We’re not going to find them.” This time it’s not a question when she comes and stands next to him on the balcony.
“No, honey, we won’t.”
She sobs, once, then she straightens her jacket and he just knows she’s balled up her hands inside her pockets.
“It’s not your fault,” he says and blinks into the fading sunlight, trying to blank out the street sounds from underneath.
“I know.” Her voice shows no emotion and he feels sorry for her. It’s not supposed to go down like this. She should be angry, she should cry, but most of all she should be allowed to grieve. It’s just not that easy if you direct all your emotional turmoil into hating one single person.
“Hey, you want - “
“Do you think Arthur knows?”
Eames swallows hard. “It’s his job to know,” he says quietly.
“Arthur doesn’t deserve this. Cobb is a selfish bastard,” she says and hits the railing with her foot.
Eames is inclined to agree with her. If nothing else, Arthur deserves a peaceful ending, not one laden with guilt to have taken another life with him. But Cobb … Cobb has been lost, even with his kids and his life back, he was still so lost without Mal. And without Arthur there will be nothing left. In a way, Eames understands him. He still hates him, but he also understands him. “If it helps any, I bet Arthur will fight tooth and nails to kick him out of his dream,” he says and draws an arm around her shivering form.
“It doesn’t, but thanks anyway.”
---
Limbo, Arthur thinks when he opens his eyes again. Limbo and heavy sedation. There’s no other explanation. He lost count of the times he killed himself or Dom in limbo and woke up in the dreamscape only to die again -- whether by his own hands or Cobb’s, it doesn’t matter -- and end up in limbo again. Always with Dom by his side. He’s spent years learning about dreams and their inner workings, but this here boggles his mind. He’s seen more of his memories washed ashore in limbo then he even knew he still remembered, but nothing is enough to send Dom back home.
He doesn’t want him here. He wants the warm cookies the old neighbor lady left for him outside the apartment’s door when his parents had one of their arguments. He found them on his third trip to limbo and they tasted exactly as he remembered. He wants Paul, who shot himself in the head in an army shed and again on Arthur’s seventh visit to limbo, to be alive. He never wants to feel the blood on his hands again. He throws up next to the broken body, tales Paul’s weapon and shoots Dom.
It doesn’t help. He comes back.
“I want you gone,” Arthur whispers. He’s too tired to move the slightest and he doesn’t know if he even could if he wanted. The city is in ruins around them, but there is a warm summer wind breezing through Arthur’s ruffled hair and he can see the clear blue sky from where he’s lying.
“I won’t go,” Dom says without a doubt in his voice. In the distance the horizon vanishes and for something that’s physically impossible it looks beautiful. As if someone took to dab away the paint on a canvas, leaving only white brightness behind.
Arthur draws a shuddering breath and a tear leaves a salty way on his cheek behind. “I don’t want you gone,” he finally admits, too worn out to fight anymore. It’s selfish, he knows, but he can’t help it. He’s scared and all around them the dusty debris vanishes, nothingness taking its place.
“I’m not leaving you behind, Arthur. You’re not alone.” He gently caresses Arthur’s hair.
“You’re completely crazy, I hope you know that.”
“I was called worse before,” Dom answers with a genuine smile on his lips.
The warm wind and Dom’s gentle hand is the last thing Arthur ever feels.
---
Arthur’s thin, worn out body encircled by Cobb’s cold arms, both still hooked up to the PASIV.
That’s how they find the bodies one day later.
- fin
Rating: R (for swearing)
Author’s notes: Be warned, it’s a death!fic. No kidding, I cried writing it. Also, I was too impatient to wait for a beta and English is still not my mother tongue.
Disclaimer: The moment unicorns are real, I make money with this.
---
Breadcrumbs for a dead and dying man
---
“ - and then I said not even if I’m dying, Eames”, Arthur tells him, and doesn’t realize there’s no first half to the sentence. There never was, but Dom just nods and tries not to wince. He’s had enough of death for a lifetime.
Arthur interrupts his story. “Sorry”, he says. “I know Mal - “
“No, it’s not that.” Dom tries a smile and fails - but only a little. “She’s gone. I moved on.” He doesn’t say where to.
---
“Two months, tops.” The doctor doesn’t waste his time with a pointless I’m sorry. Dom probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway. There’s no reason to ask questions either. Coughing up blood is a pretty good indicator that the time for questions has long since passed. So he just nods and plans ahead - like he always does. Old habits die hard, he thinks, and the laugh gets caught in his throat.
---
“So Eames is all commanding and I politely decline to follow his orders - “ Arthur is in the middle of explaining an extraction he was part of a few months ago, when suddenly he stops and looks around. They’re sitting in a café in Paris and drink some heavily overpriced cappuccino that burned Dom’s tongue. For a moment everything is silent, even the harsh wind outside ceases to make a sound. The first heads start to turn in their direction.
“Arthur?” Cobb asks and waves with a hand. Arthur blinks and shakes his head. A few more seconds and the frown will be gone from his forehead, Dom knows it.
“I … nothing, sorry, maybe I need more sleep.” Arthur smiles at him, the frown gone, and Dom relaxes back into his chair.
---
With every day it gets harder to hide his plan, but only Eames calls him out on his behavior.
“You’re not planning anything stupid, are you?” he asks one day, lounging in one of these uncomfortable hospital chairs and still managing to look completely at home. As if he never set a foot outside a hospital.
Dom could answer him, but he fears that any retort would give him away. He clenches his hands to fists inside the pockets of his jacket and tries his best to ignore the other man.
“I know that I don’t really have anything to say here, but if you don’t listen to me, listen to him. He wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid,” Eames adds, and somehow it sounds like he knows more than he should. Dom takes a deep breath, counts to ten so he doesn’t clock Eames and walks away.
---
“The mark’s name was Amelia. Her employer suspected her of … “ Arthur’s voice trails off as he takes in his surroundings. It looks warm and sunny outside. Dom taps his fingers against the table and shoves the Chai Latte in front of Arthur.
“Don’t forget to drink,” he says, “otherwise it will get cold.”
“When did I - thanks”, Arthur answers absent-minded and takes a sip.
---
“They’re gone,” Eames says and there’s no surprise in his voice -- anger, yes, because this all is so fucking stupid and unfair he’s run out of words to curse it, but it would be a lie to say he’s surprised.
“Gone? How can they be gone?” Ariadne looks bewildered. Eames sighs -- sweet, young Ariadne, who spent the last weeks trying not to look as if she’s cried herself to sleep every night, but now looks older than by all rights she should be, she doesn’t understand.
“Must have sneaked out sometime during the night,” he answers and sits down in a chair next to her. He’s so tired he can feel it in his bones.
“I don’t … I don’t understand. Why would he do that?”
Eames tries not to laugh, he really does. What leaves his throat instead sounds more like fingernails scratched over broken glass. For all her wit and quick learning, Ariadne doesn’t understand the fact that they not only are losing one of their friends, but two.
---
The first time Dom sees them is on the beach. They’re only shimmering air, nothing more than a mere shadow blurring the view of the landscape. One figure raises its arm, the other slumps to the ground. They don’t leave any footprints in the wet sand when they vanish. Dom’s stomach threatens to unravel, but he can only look away after they’ve gone. Arthur stares at the sea, oblivious to it all.
“I don’t remember ever having seen such a low tide,” he says softly, and Dom stops breathing for a second while the sound of crumbling buildings reaches them from far away. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice. “Did I ever tell you about Amelia?” he asks.
“No, was she a mark?” Dom replies with a smile and lays a hand on Arthur’s shoulder.
---
“We could call Saito,” Ariadne finally suggests after a long silence. Her hair is unkempt and her sweater started to smell faintly, but she doesn’t care. She’s slumped into an uncomfortable chair and looks lost and scared.
“And tell him what?”
“That … that we need to find them! They can’t be that far … not in - “ she stumbles over her own words, “not in the state he’s in.” She doesn’t say his name, too scared to paint the truth on the walls of a harsh reality. Eames lays an arm around her quivering shoulder and whishes like hell his poker chip wouldn’t fall to the side every time he throws it in the air.
“Honey,” Eames whispers, “I don’t think it will matter if we bring Saito in this or not.”
“But we could at least save one.”
Eames hugs her a little tighter and plants a kiss on her unruly hair, but doesn’t contradict her. Some things are better left unsaid.
---
The first time Arthur sees them, he and Dom are sitting on a bench in a park. It’s warm and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows. He looks more relaxed than Dom has seen him in a long time. Arthur doesn’t even wear a tie.
“We had planned to extract from Amelia the next day, but we couldn’t because ... , “ Arthur trails off and frowns. “Because … I don’t remember.” He blinks and stares at Cobb. “I don’t remember,” he says again, his voice a mixture of confusion and fear, and suddenly his eyes go wide. An uneasy feeling settles in Dom’s stomach, and he looks around to see what Arthur sees. Two figures stand behind the empty sandbox and Dom nearly lets his coffee fall because he knows them. They’re still more or less shadows, but the first distinctive features start to show. The outline of a tailored suit, the sun weakly reflecting on a black gun; Cobb swallows and his throat feels like sandpaper.
“Dom?”
“It’s nothing.” The shadows vanish in a rustle of wind, leaving only dried-up leaves behind. Dom turns around and hands Arthur the coffee. “Drink,” he says. “It’s your favorite, with cinnamon and no sugar.”
For a moment Arthur’s eyes look empty, then he takes the coffee. “Thanks”, he answers, and he only sounds the tiniest bit off.
---
They start to look for them nevertheless. It’s not in Eames nature to lie down and quietly wait for the end, and Ariadne hasn’t yet experienced such a loss to know when it’s better to just turn around and try your best to live with the pain.
They don’t find them.
It’s not that they’re not trying, it’s just that the city is too big and there’s too little time for only two people. Two days into the search Eames find Ariadne hunched over the desk in their little apartment. Her shoulders are shaking and her face is hidden beneath her wavy hair -- Eames had forced her to take a shower that morning -- and she’s crying. It breaks his heart, and once more he silently curses Cobb for putting them all through this.
“Oh, honey,” he breathes.
“We’re not going to find them, are we?” she says, her voice controlled, but he still hears the quiver of anguish in it.
He wants to say ‘No, it’s probably too late already’, he wants to be honest like he’s been all his life outside a job, but he finds he can’t. Not now, not so soon. She’s too young to sound so old, and he simply can’t take it without offering resistance.
“I’m going to call Saito,” he says and squeezes her shoulder.
---
“You shot me.”
“I shot you a lot of times,” Dom says and turns up the collar of his thick coat against the harsh wind on top of the building they’re standing on. He tries to act nonchalantly and stares at the threatening clouds in the distance.
“I don’t mean that,” Arthur corrects him and sounds pissed off. Dom raises an eyebrow, Arthur rarely sounds pissed off with him.
“Then what?”
“You shot me.”
“You already said that.”
“Where are we?”
“On top of a building. You should know, you led me here.”
“No.” Arthur shakes his head. “I don’t know that. In fact, I don’t even know where we are. What I do know is that I saw you shooting me in the head. Repeatedly. Why did I see that?”
Dom doesn’t answer. He didn’t expect Arthur to remember the shadowy figures, but he should have known. They had become more and more prominent during the last few days, more outlined. The last time in a hotel floor Dom could even identify the weapon he’d used.
“Dom.” Arthur’s voice is strained, verging on panic. Arthur doesn’t panic -- never, Dom thinks. “Please, talk to me. This doesn’t make sense … I can’t remember how we got here,” Arthur whispers, his eyes wide open and scared. The last time Dom has seen him so lost was on their first meeting.
Arthur’s hand scrambles for his totem in his left suit pocket -- he always keeps it there, Dom knows and stays silent. Arthur falls to his knees on the cold concrete, the clouds a thick dark blanket over them, and throws the dice. Its red is a stark contrast to the world of gray surrounding them. For a long time, Arthur only stares at the number the dice shows and says nothing. Then he throws the dice again and again, like it will change the outcome if he only throws it often enough. It doesn’t, but Dom already knows that. He’s been here before.
Arthur’s whole body is shaking when he gets up again, but his eyes are dead when he looks at Dom. “We’re in a dream,” he states and takes a step back towards the edge, away from Dom. “Why are we in a dream? Why did you shoot me?”
“Arthur.”
“No!” Arthur yells. “You don’t get to sound like I’m a child and forbidden of knowing what’s going on. If this is a dream I will just jump off this building and wake up,” he threatens. Jumping off buildings is Dom’s weak point, he knows, and he even feels a bit guilty for using it against him. After Mal -- and he will probably always divide time into Mal and after Mal -- he had to jump off a bridge once to escape a slow and gruesome death by projections. Dom yelled at him for half an hour afterwards, but he doesn’t say a word now.
It’s that moment of silence that makes Arthur’s skin turn cold.
He tries to remember the real world, but the last thing coming to his mind is always the Amelia-job. Only that they never got to do the extraction, because … he frowns. It’s there, the reason, just an inch outside his grasp. He closes his eyes and wills his memory to come back to him. He remembers Amelia’s smile from the pictures in the dossier handed to him. He remembers Eames’ ridiculous plan to seduce and sedate her and spouting of orders as if he was the point man. He remembers Ariadne’s laugh. And then he remembers something else, something that he somehow knows he’d rather forget. It takes a while, but then it’s there, as sharp and clear as a photograph: it’s pain and has the color of his dice, and suddenly he knows.
“I’m dying,” he says. “I’m dying and for some god forsaken reason you’re inside my dream.” It actually hurts to see the look of sheer anguish and desperation in Dom’s eyes again. It’s like Mal all over, only that this time there will be no Arthur to pick up the pieces afterwards.
He tries not to think about it when he takes the last step backwards and tumbles over the edge. The last thing he sees is Dom’s resigned face, but he doesn’t have the time to wonder about it.
---
Saito is good, Eames has to give him that.
His men are all over the city in a matter of hours, and Ariadne actually looks as if she might not cry this night. Eames is thankful for that, if for nothing else. He’s still pessimist enough to think they won’t find them, and he is fairly sure that Saito suspects the same or at least that they won’t find them alive.
Unlike Ariadne, they didn’t forget that Cobb’s life these past years depended on becoming invisible on a moment’s notice. One time even Arthur hadn’t known his hiding place and it had taken him nearly a month to drag the other man out of his drunken stupor and to get him sober enough for another job to survive.
---
Arthur awakens to a gun to his face. “What - “
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Dom shoots him in the head -- again.
---
“We’re not going to find them.” This time it’s not a question when she comes and stands next to him on the balcony.
“No, honey, we won’t.”
She sobs, once, then she straightens her jacket and he just knows she’s balled up her hands inside her pockets.
“It’s not your fault,” he says and blinks into the fading sunlight, trying to blank out the street sounds from underneath.
“I know.” Her voice shows no emotion and he feels sorry for her. It’s not supposed to go down like this. She should be angry, she should cry, but most of all she should be allowed to grieve. It’s just not that easy if you direct all your emotional turmoil into hating one single person.
“Hey, you want - “
“Do you think Arthur knows?”
Eames swallows hard. “It’s his job to know,” he says quietly.
“Arthur doesn’t deserve this. Cobb is a selfish bastard,” she says and hits the railing with her foot.
Eames is inclined to agree with her. If nothing else, Arthur deserves a peaceful ending, not one laden with guilt to have taken another life with him. But Cobb … Cobb has been lost, even with his kids and his life back, he was still so lost without Mal. And without Arthur there will be nothing left. In a way, Eames understands him. He still hates him, but he also understands him. “If it helps any, I bet Arthur will fight tooth and nails to kick him out of his dream,” he says and draws an arm around her shivering form.
“It doesn’t, but thanks anyway.”
---
Limbo, Arthur thinks when he opens his eyes again. Limbo and heavy sedation. There’s no other explanation. He lost count of the times he killed himself or Dom in limbo and woke up in the dreamscape only to die again -- whether by his own hands or Cobb’s, it doesn’t matter -- and end up in limbo again. Always with Dom by his side. He’s spent years learning about dreams and their inner workings, but this here boggles his mind. He’s seen more of his memories washed ashore in limbo then he even knew he still remembered, but nothing is enough to send Dom back home.
He doesn’t want him here. He wants the warm cookies the old neighbor lady left for him outside the apartment’s door when his parents had one of their arguments. He found them on his third trip to limbo and they tasted exactly as he remembered. He wants Paul, who shot himself in the head in an army shed and again on Arthur’s seventh visit to limbo, to be alive. He never wants to feel the blood on his hands again. He throws up next to the broken body, tales Paul’s weapon and shoots Dom.
It doesn’t help. He comes back.
“I want you gone,” Arthur whispers. He’s too tired to move the slightest and he doesn’t know if he even could if he wanted. The city is in ruins around them, but there is a warm summer wind breezing through Arthur’s ruffled hair and he can see the clear blue sky from where he’s lying.
“I won’t go,” Dom says without a doubt in his voice. In the distance the horizon vanishes and for something that’s physically impossible it looks beautiful. As if someone took to dab away the paint on a canvas, leaving only white brightness behind.
Arthur draws a shuddering breath and a tear leaves a salty way on his cheek behind. “I don’t want you gone,” he finally admits, too worn out to fight anymore. It’s selfish, he knows, but he can’t help it. He’s scared and all around them the dusty debris vanishes, nothingness taking its place.
“I’m not leaving you behind, Arthur. You’re not alone.” He gently caresses Arthur’s hair.
“You’re completely crazy, I hope you know that.”
“I was called worse before,” Dom answers with a genuine smile on his lips.
The warm wind and Dom’s gentle hand is the last thing Arthur ever feels.
---
Arthur’s thin, worn out body encircled by Cobb’s cold arms, both still hooked up to the PASIV.
That’s how they find the bodies one day later.
- fin