Spiral Upwards

Warning (contains Spoilers): Depression, attempted suicide in later chapter.

Chapter 1

Eames spent five minutes pounding on the door. No one answered. At four o'clock in the morning it was unlikely that Arthur was still out. Maybe he was deep asleep and hadn't heard the knocking. Arthur had an issue with people entering his flat without permission, but Eames was desperate.

Picking the first lock was easy. But Arthur was no fool and had installed two dead bolts as added security. Taking out a tool he kept for just these emergencies he slipped the advanced pick into the lock, turned it and froze.

It hadn't been locked. Checking the other one showed the same result.

Arthur, who was security conscious to the point of paranoia. Who had yelled and lectured Eames the one time he'd left a window open, leaving Arthur's home 'vulnerable', hadn't locked his door. Retrieving his concealed gun he slowly opened the door and crept inside.

All the lights were off but the moon shining through the window provided enough light to see. He let out a breath when the was no immediate sign of a struggle. Arthur wouldn't have gone down without a fight. Hearing a clinking noise coming from the kitchen he walked towards it.

He found Arthur, looking very undamaged, sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal sitting in front of him.

Running a hand over his face he lowered the gun, "Your door was unlocked, thought you were in trouble."

Arthur continued to stare at the table for a moment. Then, he lifted his head, slowly as if it weighted a tonne.

"Eames?" he said voice croaking.

"Yeah. Sorry to just pop by, but I'm in a bit of a pickle. Need a place to lay low for a bit. Okay if I crash here?" he said already moving towards the bathroom now that the danger was over, "Just gonna grab a quick shower. Then I'll explain."

The shower was heaven. After two days of running, dodging his tails, it was nice to finally be able to relax a bit. If there was anyone he was safest with it was Arthur.

Stepping out of the shower Eames noticed his first clue that something wasn't quite right. Sitting on the sink was Arthur toothbrush, toothpaste smeared on top. Picking it up he touched it, the paste was hard. It had been sitting there for days.

Looking into the connecting bedroom he felt unease curl into his stomach. It was filthy. The usually immaculate room had clothes carelessly thrown on the floor. There were draws half pulled out and wardrobe doors left open. Dirty cups and plates scattered the room and the bed looked like it hadn't been made in a month.

Eames was no stranger to mess but even for him this was excessive, and coming for Arthur...

Throwing on his clothes he walked back to kitchen, noticing for the first time just how stale the air smelt. Arthur was exactly as he'd left him, sitting silently staring at his bowl. He was only half dressed, in underwear and an unbuttoned shirt. There were dark bags under his eyes and a week's worth of stubble on his jaw. The unease he'd felt was blooming into full blown panic. Something was very wrong here.

Arthur didn't react when he slid into the chair beside him, "Arthur?"

He took a minute to tilt his head in acknowledgement, "Hi," he said, voice dull.

"Hi. You alright?"

"Yes, I'm just... having," Arthur licked his cracked lips, "I'm having breakfast."

"At four in the morning?" Looking at the bowl Eames saw that the cereal had all but disintegrated. He'd been sitting there for hours.

"Is it four? I didn't... It's not..." taking a deep breath Arthur continued, "You get up, then you have breakfast... Then you shower. You get dressed. Go for a walk, then have lunch... Do some work. Have dinner. Get undressed. Try to sleep. Repeat.

He looked up at him, Eames gut clenched at the water glistening in his eyes, "Expect I can't..., I can't get passed breakfast."

A single tear rolled down Arthur's cheek, "It's too hard. It shouldn't be this hard."

Eames was right. Something was very, very wrong here.

"Well," Eames said with forced cheer, "I guess I'm just going to have to make things a bit easier."

Abandoning breakfast in favour of hygiene he dragged Arthur to the bathroom. Eames sucked in his breath when Arthur slowly peeled off his shirt. The once muscular toned man was now stick thin. Eames could easily count the ribs. Maybe skipping breakfast hadn't been a great idea. Running the water he helped Arthur into the shower.

"I'll be just outside making a call," he said giving the man some privacy.

Taking out his cell phone he dialled the closest thing he had to a doctor, Yusuf.

"It could be a number of things," Yusuf said over the line, "Exhaustion, drugs, depression, some sort of illness. Without further knowledge it's impossible to say. Get him to talk, see if he can tell you how he got like this. I'd advise snooping as a backup. "

The shower still running Eames took Yusuf's advice and snooped around Arthur's bedroom, putting things away, cleaning up as he goes. Arthur would feel better with things in order. He found Arthur's phone on the bedside table, battery dead. Unopened mail litters his desk. His laptop had a layer of dust covering it.

Looking under the bed Eames found something. Pulling out a small bottle he saw it was a prescription of sleeping pills for a Monica Wong. The bottle was empty. Placing it on the bedside table he opened the draw and stilled. Inside was a gun, examining it Eames felt it was loaded. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have found this too troubling but given Arthur's current frame of mind... He tucked the gun behind his back next to his own. Better he carry it for now.

Finishing his scan and finding nothing else. Eames sat on the bed, the sheets under his hand felt unwashed. Pulling them off he loaded up the washing machine. He grabbed fresh sheets and remade the bed. Checking his watch Eames saw that Arthur had been in the shower for 40 minutes. More than long enough.

Opening the door to the bathroom he walked into a wall of steam. Arthur was sitting on the floor of the shower, staring unfocused, water streaming down on his face. Rushing over Eames turned off the taps and pulled him to his feet.

"You're alright," he said wrapping a towel around him, sitting him on the toilet, "We'll get you fixed up in no time."

But Eames was beginning to worry that whatever this was, it wasn't going to be an easy fix. By the state of the man and his room it was clear that this had been going on for weeks, if not months. Whatever was going on in Arthur's mind was toxic, and most likely far beyond his capabilities to deal with. His body though, maybe that was something Eames could do something about. Going to the cupboard he grabbed shaving cream and a razor.

"May I?"

Arthur looked at the instruments in his hands. He raised a hand to feel his face. A flicker of surprise hit his eyes before he stretched out his neck and nodded.

Working away Eames took extra care not to cause any nicks.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" he asked.

"I don't know. Awhile? Feels like forever."

"Do you remember how it started?"

"I don't know."

"Did you just wake up one day and felt like this?"

"I don't- No. It hasn't always been this bad."

Arthur, now clean shaven, looked much more like the man he'd been working with for years. Breathing a little easier he lead Arthur to the bed and got him to lie down.

"Yusuf thinks you might just be exhausted," although Eames doubted that was all it was, "You try get some sleep, I'll phone around see what I can find."

He turned to leave when Arthur's hand shot out to grab his wrist. His hold was weak but the look in his eyes stopped Eames cold.

"There's something wrong," Arthur whispered, "Inside. Something foreign. I don't know what it is or how it got there. But it's taken control. Everything I do, it's always there, whispering. I can't do it much longer. If it doesn't stop soon, I'll- It'll kill me."

Eames was shaking as he closed the bedroom door. His instinct was to run. Run far away without looking back. But Arthur was a friend. Out of all the people in the world he'd chosen Arthur to go to when he needed help. It was only fair he return the favour. One thing was for sure, he was out his depth.

Pulling out his cell phone he dialled two numbers. He needed reinforcements.

tbc

Despite multiple checks I'm sure there were spelling and grammar issues. I have no beta but am looking for one. If anyone is interested send me a buzz.