Arthur Doesn't Live Here Anymore
Prompt: One of them has to shoot someone; the other doesn't want to. "I'm a thief, not a murderer."
A cold, calculating look takes hold of his features. He aims the gun, only to be stopped by his companion. He snarls at the other man, "We have no other choice. He knows too much. Do you really want to hide from another powerful corporation?"
"There is always a choice. You're making the wrong one." He looks at the man, tied up and drugged. One bullet would prevent him from ever spilling their secrets and identities. But there is something so wrong about it.
The taller man places his gun down for a moment, "You're really going to risk our lives over this pathetic, little man? He could get us killed!"
Eames takes a long look at Arthur. This is the man who he has known and pined after for years and yet suddenly, he doesn't see Arthur at all. He sees a man, hardened by years upon years of dream extraction. One unable to have a real life, even if he stops taking jobs. A man who has to always sleep with his gun practically under his pillow to feel safe. His Arthur no longer exists; a deep ache grows in his chest.
"I'm a thief, not a murderer." Eames says, trying to keep his voice strong. "And what's one more powerful man looking for us? Our lives are no more important than his life. Who are we to decide he should die because we fucked up?"
For a moment, Eames thinks he got through to Arthur until, with cat-like reflexes, he picks up the gun and fires a shot into the middle of the man's forehead.
"Better him than me." He turns and leaves. Eames stands there, listening as the clicking of Arthur's retreating steps blend into the fading echo of the gunshot.