All in A Day's Work
Disclaimer: I don't own Inception, Christopher Nolan does.
A/N: I just watched Inception a couple of days ago. I know, I'm way late, but anyway, fell in love with JGL/ Arthur. And the best way to get over someone is to turn them into literature, right?
Summary: Cobol wants Ariadne, Ariadne wants everything to be okay, Arthur wants everyone to stop fussing- it's just a bullet wound, and Eames just wants to go to sleep. No pairings.
They receive the call at night, a little past ten. Cobb had gone almost a half-hour earlier, saying something about James and Phillipa, and completely disregarding the fact that they still had work to do. Really, Cobb was getting soft, and where did he think he was going anyway? They were at least a few hours away from Cobb's home, so the only thing he could do with James and Phillipa was call them. There was reception in the room, wasn't there?
Well, maybe it had something to do with the fact the last time he'd called home while Eames and Ariadne were around, they'd eavesdropped unmercifully and had teased him to no end about it afterwards. Eames huffed; Cobb was no fun. But perhaps it was good that Cobb was out speaking to his children, they'd probably need him in a good mood when he came back to see the mess they'd made of his hotel room (which they'd adopted as temporary headquarters).
Either way, Cobb was gone, and ten o' clock had came and went, and they had nothing more to do, so Ariadne had self-declared themselves done for the day. They had been about to leave the room when Arthur's cell rang, the standard buzzing of a ringtone that Arthur had never bothered to customize, and that doesn't surprise anyone.
"Leave it." Eames moans. "Let's go."
But Arthur is Arthur, and the phone gets picked up as much as Eames would like, thank you very much, to be going back to their own room and getting as much sleep as possible on their rare night off.
"Hello?" Arthur says, and after all, what else can he say. How about 'Screw you for ruining my night and my suit, even though these things haven't happened yet?'
Eames notices the slightest widening of the younger man's eyes and the tightening of his grip around his phone when the voice on the other end speaks. Eames stops moving and just watches, because anything that can make the point-man lose his pokerface is not good, unless the face was replaced by those darling dimples. But not this time.
"No." Arthur says firmly, as Eames tries to make out what is happening on the other end. He can't hear a thing, but he'll sure as hell try.
Ariadne, bless her soul, is blissfully unaware, and delicately floats towards the door, bag swinging behind her. Eames suddenly feels a flash of foreboding, and in the split second before he moves, Arthur does, quick as a flash. But it is too late, the door opens just a smidge, and there comes a silent hiss from outside before Arthur slams the door shut and tackles Ariadne to the ground. The phone flies out of Arthur's hand, and comes to a stop at Eames' feet. Eames stares down at it.
And because the world is aligned to provide the most dramatic of situations, sometime in the past few seconds Arthur's phone has managed to put itself on speaker, and even as it lies on the floor of the hotel room, they can hear the next sentence all-too-clearly.
"Tell her that she has until midnight to make up her mind, and if she doesn't come out, we'll tear the place down and everyone in it." a man's voice says, before the line goes dead.
Eames stares at Ariadne, and she stares back, looking frightened. They both know she's the only 'she' in the room.
And then they both turn to look at Arthur, and see him lying crumpled on the ground, a small pool of blood growing around him.
i
Eames gives himself rug burns as he skids to his knees next to Arthur, Ariadne already turning the point-man's body over and searching for the wound. Arthur grimaces but sits himself upright somehow, shaking their worried hands off him. It works for the fraction of a second before his teammates are back at it.
They find the bullet hole in Arthur's left shoulder. It is not a clean shot, and Eames furrows his eyebrows as he considers trying to remove it before it can cause internal damage. But Arthur gives him a leveled look, as if he can tells what Eames is thinking, stands and makes his way across the room.
"They want you to become their architect." Arthur tells Ariadne, like he wasn't just bleeding out on the carpet.
"Who?" Ariadne asks.
"Cobol." Eames realizes. It's been nothing but downhill for the company since the loss of Cobb, and they're getting desperate.
Arthur nods. With slightly shaky hands, he pours himself a drink, downs it in one gulp, then pours another glass for Ariadne. Eames reaches for the bottle and takes a swig right out of it.
"And they want her to go quietly before midnight, before they make a scene." Eames says. "Well, a fat lot of good shooting at her did in convincing her." He pats Ariadne on the shoulder with a faked cheerfulness. "Don't worry, darling, we won't let them get to you."
Eames calls Cobb using Arthur's phone, but the line is engaged. "Phillipa darling, Daddy can't come home right now, I'm working, honey. No, James, I thought I told you, you may not eat that worm-" And Eames is angrier than he should be.
He ends the call just in time to see Ariadne take a seat opposite Arthur and eye the wound.
"It's not that bad." she tells him softly.
As the night progresses, it gets worse.
i
They get a second phone call when the man wants to talk to Ariadne personally, to negotiate terms. When the phone rings, Arthur reaches for it, but Eames gently pries the phone from Arthur's cold fingers.
"What do you want?" Eames spits, a complete opposite from his gentleness the moment before.
"Oh my, Mr. Eames. Fancy finding you in there too. Where is Arthur?"
"None of your business." Eames snaps, too fast, too defensive. The man picks up on it.
"Don't tell me the bullet hit him, Mr. Eames? What a bit of luck for us. Now you have your own little timer in there. How close is he to bleeding out?"
Never, if Eames has a say in anything.
"What do you want?" he repeats, keeping his voice even as much as he would like to end the call.
"Well, it's too bad Arthur's out for the count, we were considering taking him back too – but anyway, will you please pass the phone to your architect?"
Eames' eyes narrow. "Darling!" he calls, to no one in particular, and promptly hangs up. He stands there, in the center of the room, glaring at papers strewn across the desk, nearly crushing Arthur's phone in his death grip.
"What?" he hears Arthur say to Ariadne, both behind him. "They left the windows unguarded?"
i
Arthur and Ariadne are standing by the open window, curtains billowing around them.
"They left the window. There's no one out there." Ariadne tells him when he joins them. Eames looks for himself. Sure enough, the street below is empty. It must be a trap.
"I'll go down." Eames says. "First, to see if it really is a trap. If I don't die on the way down, I'll come back to get you."
On a normal day, Arthur would protest. It's not a normal day: Ariadne protests.
While they're arguing, Arthur climbs out of the window onto the ledge.
i
There is the briefest second in which Eames actually thinks luck may be on their side, and that escape will be easy.
Then Arthur falls.
i
Eames stops moving, stops breathing.
"Eames?" Arthur's voice calls up, softly, distant, but very much alive. "Come on down."
i
Arthur is on the balcony, two floors down, looking a little battered, but he shoots them both a triumphant smile.
"Prick." Eames mutters. He ties what's left of the bedsheets together and they (he and Ariadne) climb down to where Arthur is.
"Did you jump or fall?" Ariadne asks Arthur, when they reach him.
Arthur doesn't reply; anyway he's already halfway down the stairs. But he is pale and shivering slightly, and he just fell two storeys. To say the least, Eames is more than a little worried.
They follow him down the stairs, and hide behind lampposts and mailboxes from the shadows that jump out at them. The roads are wet and shiny, and Eames is afraid of every single car that zooms past; afraid that they will shoot Arthur again, or even worse, manage to take Ariadne away. Eames has always hated Cobol, or so he strongly believes now. He's not about to let either happen.
So they stay in the darkness, carefully making their way somewhere or other, keeping themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Eames' footsteps are steady but quiet, Ariadne's light tread follows behind. Arthur walks last, and he's nowhere nearly as stealthy as he could be.
"I'm fine." Arthur snaps, every time they turn to look at him.
After awhile, Eames stops, goes up to Arthur and drapes the point-man's good arm across his shoulders for support. Arthur's protests are feeble, and Eames wonders if he even knows what he is saying.
"No, darling, hush. I'll take care of you." Eames whispers soothingly. Arthur's eyes glint in the darkness, but after a pause he just nods. Protectiveness flares up in Eames instantly.
"We need a hospital." he says to Ariadne, who has come up beside them. Her eyes hold her wordless agreement.
They leave a bloody trail in their wake.
i
They're ambushed a little less than a block away, and it is not luck that Eames shoots the first of the men before they can get to Arthur and Ariadne. Soon enough, all of them are fighting, and while Arthur had taught Ariadne to shoot as well as hand-to-hand combat, Eames still worries for her. He keeps an eye out for her, and is pleased to note that like designing in the dream world, she is a natural at fighting. The bodies fall, and Ariadne does not stop. It will hit her later, and she will cry about it, but for the time being, she is fierce and unstoppable.
Behind him, Arthur gives a small pained gasp, and Eames is firing before he fully turns around. The two men are dead before they hit the ground. Arthur straightens and fires a shot that hits its target inches from Eames. The two of them, Eames know, fight like it is a choreography, and however much they may bicker sometimes, Eames knows that they make a good team. With Arthur on his right and Ariadne on his left, they manage to wipe out a good dozen people before there is one left, cowering on the floor, weapon discarded.
"Tell your boss that hell will freeze over before I let you take either of them." Eames says, and keeps his gun trailed on the man until he disappears from sight.
"You two alright?" Eames asks.
Perhaps it's the knowledge that she's killed, for Ariadne looks slightly stricken, but she nods.
"Arthur?"
"Your phone's ringing." the point-man states. Eames knows that he's not okay, but Arthur's the kind of person who would go to the grave trying to say otherwise.
"It's your phone, darling." Eames wants to say, but he can't do that and shout at the same time. Shouting wins out. Eames answers and starts yelling at the man, questions first, obscenities when he gets no reply, and then some.
"Eames?" Cobb's voice comes, quick and worried. "Where's Arthur? Cobol's outside the hotel, so whatever you do, stay inside."
Cobb's so out of it that Eames almost laughs. Arthur leans against the nearest wall, eyes watching Eames talk. Ariadne stands close to them, seemingly intent on memorizing the design of her shoes.
"Cobb, we're already outside." Eames says. "They want Ariadne to be their architect- we took the fire escape out."
"I see." the extractor says, and Eames wonders if Cobb meant it literally, like he was actually standing on the ground staring up at the fire escape and their makeshift rope. They're tied together with good, strong knots, and Eames half-hopes that Cobb will say something. But Cobb just nods, or at least sounds like he's nodding.
"Are you guys in any danger right now?" Cobb asks.
Eames looks around at the numerous bodies surrounding them. There is a fire in Ariadne's eyes as she looks up and meets his. Arthur, despite everything is still holding the gun tightly in his hands and Eames knows it will take more than a bullet to stop Arthur when it comes to defending his team. Between the three of them, they've turned the dark alleyway into one of the safest places in the world.
"No, but when you come, a medic would be nice. Arthur's hurt."
There is a brief silence as Cobb digests the information. "Stay right there." Cobb orders. He'll be there as soon as possible, and faster.
When Eames hangs up, two pairs of eyes meet his questioningly. "He's got a car. He'll come pick us up."
Relief palpable on his face, Arthur nods and slides to the ground, eyes closing.
i
"Arthur- come on, Arthur." Eames pleads. "Just a bit longer."
There's too much blood. Ariadne offers her scarf, and Eames ties another bandage over the existing one. Arthur flinches, and tries to back away. It doesn't work, as he's already backed against a wall, and so Eames knots the bandage as Arthur lets out a quiet whimper.
"Sorry, darling." Eames murmurs, brushing back stray locks of dark hair.
"Arthur." Ariadne sobs.
Eames can only sit and hope that 'faster than as soon as possible' is fast enough.
i
There's no medic in the car when it pulls up beside them, and Eames wants to strangle Cobb, but Cobb promises that his friend's house is only a few minutes away, and it's faster if his friend can set up the room and equipment while waiting for them to arrive. It makes sense, so Eames sits in the back with Arthur, focuses on something as trivial as trying not to get blood onto the upholstery, and ends up getting blood everywhere.
When they arrive a few minutes later, everything is set up and ready, and Cobb is right, as usual.
"He'll be okay." Cobb says, as they wait outside the room.
This time, Eames won't curse Cobb if he is right.
i
It's four hours since everything began, and Eames is curled up in the armchair next to Arthur's bed. The décor of the room they are in is tastefully extravagant, and for a moment has Eames reaching for his totem just to be sure. But all is well, and it's reality. Cobb saved the day, Ariadne is safe and beautiful as always, and Arthur will be fine. Which just leaves one thing. Sleep, for himself.
Or, not quite.
"Eames?" Arthur mumbles from the bed. He's been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past two hours, but it's the first time he's spoken and sounded coherent enough. Eames quietly sings a victory.
"Yes, darling?"
"You were pretty kickass today. Thank you." Eames can't help but smile, and the corners of Arthur's lips curve upwards slightly too.
"I know, love, and you're welcome. Now go to sleep."
Arthur obediently complies, and Eames finally gets to do the same.
End.
Merry Almost-Christmas and have a great rest of the year! Do let me know what you think.