"Up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness"

[perfectforgery]

Come Undone
With: lakoffselephant
Rating: very likely R or NC17

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[lakoffselephant]

Arthur had not been so lucky as to avoid the gun fire after the job had gone all pear shaped. He had run after going his own way, sure, but he had been foolishly distracted by his own spectacular failure in figuring out the mark's true ties to the mafia that it had tripped him up mentally. And literally. Arthur had been ducking down an alleyway to lose his tail on foot when he tripped over an uneven curb and in his haste to get up, he was caught and he was shot.

The shot was not instantly fatal, through his shoulder, but if left alone long enough he would have died by bleeding out. Somewhere in the commotion he had dropped and broken his cell phone, and he received no messages from Eames, or any of the other team members. And frankly, that had been the least of his worries when he had to scramble to get medical help - stumbling into the first crowded area where the tail would likely lose him in the throng of people and then he sought said help

[perfectforgery]

At first, Eames thought he was hallucinating. That would be how he would go, wouldn't it? With a bullet to his brain from voices convincing him he's dreaming. Maybe it was the tequila, though he was sobered up enough, at least compared to how he was before. The knocking continued and Eames sighed, his chest aching as he checked his totem

[lakoffselephant]

It took too long for Eames to answer the door, too long for Arthur to not think that the man probably wasn't there. Or just not interested in seeing him. Or any host of things that meant that he would be standing outside like an idiot, hitting his good fist against the wood of the door instead of the frame now. And then the door opened without a word or sound, just revealing Eames

[perfectforgery]

Eames had finally come to terms with Arthur being dead. He was sure of it, the only way he would have let himself think it, but there he was, staring him down with his arm in a sling and looking worse for wear. Every emotion Eames could ever imagine passes through him in one giant clump of hormones and neurotransmitters, but the prevailing combination just turns into rage. His face contorts to a glaring frown and he grabs Arthur by both his arms and pulls him in. He kicks the door closed with his foot and slams Arthur against the wall so hard that a framed Munch drawing falls and the glass shatters. He doesn't even glance at it, because all the matters right now is how furious and grateful he is that Arthur is there.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Arthur?"