Author's Note: I originally posted this to my LiveJournal for the Inception Kink Meme on January 1, 2011, just to kind of kick off the new year. I've decided to paste it over to my account as well for more people to enjoy. This was my first real attempt at the Inception fandom when I wrote it. I had been searching for a while for the "perfect prompt" to do a debut fic with, and I ended up deciding on this one. The fic is sort of written like a scrapbook of sorts, so it's more like drabbles even though it's chaptered. Hope everyone enjoys it in this community!
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or the characters, but if I did, Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Tom Hardy would have gotten even more screen time, and their characters would have most definitely would have had something going on together.
Prompt: Cleaning each other's wounds after a fight. Picking out broken glass, washing scrapes etc. Tender but methodical, with an undercurrent of worry for each other.
-Prelude-
As the saying goes, "Old habits die hard."
The man is gravely injured. He appears to be in his early to mid-thirties, unshaven and dressed in unsightly tweed. He limps along, his left hand holding a pistol and practically scraping it against the wall as he tries to support himself and move forward. His other hand is tightly pressed against his side, and blood drips through the cracks between his fingers. His breathing is quite ragged, and he has definitely seen better days.
A sudden blast from a nearby building throws him off balance and he falls to the ground. Quickly, he recoils and pushes himself into an upright sitting position, wheezing and squeezing his eyes shut while still holding his side. He can hear the shouting and gunfire around him, though his hearing is somewhat muffled from the earlier explosion. He opens his eyes upon feeling the presence of someone looming over him, and shakes his head at the figure trying reach for his arm.
"No, leave me," he says.
"Eames, come on! We need to get you out of the line of fire, I can fix you up!"
"No!" Eames shouts back at first, and then lowered his volume. "No, it's no use. A wound like this is too deep."
The figure scoffs. "There isn't a single wound too deep for me to fix here, and you know that, Eames."
"All the same," Eames says, spitting out some blood to the side. "I would rather you not and just let me be. Just this once, let me fall and be away from all this, please."
The figure's hand drops to the side and Eames smiles up at them weakly. He can vaguely hear the shouting of Dominic Cobb draw closer as he feels himself slipping away.
"Eames!" cries Dom. "Eames! Are you all right? Ea-Arthur! What on earth are you—"
The last thing Eames sees before losing consciousness is Dom pushing Arthur roughly aside so that he can get to the forger, and then Eames finally blacks out and knows nothing else.