I'm sorry. Kill me. It's terrible.
And apologies, I've been gone for, like, 3 months or something.
It had been years ago when Eames had gotten that rush of adrenaline when he saw a girl. The feeling like the wind was knocked out of you and like you'd been burned like a hot potato. The feeling of which you would do everything to make sure she had the same.
Love.
Eames knew it was fickle. She was ill and he had a job. But he held on. Tightly. But soon, she could no more. She passed away.
That was when Eames knew he could never love again.
When she had died, he threw himself into the pits. Gambling recklessly, losing recklessly, and letting the girls wash over him like sand. Soon, the pain dulled. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered.
Cobb and Arthur. They were probably the only two he could ever consider friends. Companions. Allies. But they didn't understand. So he kept it to himself. He entered his dreams and manipulated them to the finest detail. She was there. She was alive. And they were happy. But then as he worked, he found he could no longer see her. He couldn't dream. Something wouldn't let him. She was gone. No one remembered her but him.
When the Inception job came up, he was pessimistic. It was just another string to pull him away from her. It didn't matter anymore. He took it.
And then he met her.
"Don't scare her, Eames," Arthur warned. "She might wake up randomly and she may never want to come back if the first thing she sees is your face."
"Shut up, you old coot." Eames was studying her face. The way her eyelashes attached perfectly to her eyelids and the curve of her nose and the shape of her lips and...it was all so familiar.
"Anyway, you probably should get going," Arthur said, hurriedly.
"And why is that?" Eames inquired.
"Go chase some pretty women, I haven't got any time to deal with you while I work." Eames pulled a sly grin when Arthur began shooing him away.
"You want to spend some quality time with the pretty girl, just say so, Art-o," Eames teased, walking out of the room. Arthur scowled and flung a paper bag at him. "What's this for?" Eames asked.
"To put your head in forever," Arthur replied, monitoring the dream machine meticulously.
Eames cracked a smile. "The ladies would be disappointed if they happened, Artie, so I think I'll pass," he said.
"You know what, Eames? If you really want me to go, I'll go. I have to buy groceries anyway, right?" Arthur said, giving up. He stood up from his kneeling position and left Eames alone with the girl.
Eames stepped away from the door and drew closer to the fascinating subject of interest. Her hair was soft like a pillow and floundered past her shoulders. Her delicate skin was a creamy porcelain white, smooth like a stream. The fullness of her lips was remotely attractive to Eames romantically, but most of all, nostalgic. He did not want to fling his mouth on it and dirty it, like with most women, he felt the need to admire it. A work of art. His fingers gently brushed over them and they twitched ever so slightly. He gave a sad little smile. His eyes traced down to her plain shirt where her arms came out, limp on the chair's arms. He touched the right one, carefully so as not to disturb the girl and it flinched.
The hands, oh the hands!, were so small and delicate, Eames felt his big rough ones could snap it in an instant. He gripped it tightly, letting the warmth from her hands flow into his. How long had it been since he held hands with another girl like this? So innocent? So pure? Eames closed his eyes. She didn't know him and he did not know her, but in that moment he knew he had to protect her. A fragile girl was all that she was to him, but he felt that was enough.
He let go over her hand and she twitched once more. His eyes fell lower where her slim legs fit into her jeans. She was short, much shorter than the usual girls he spent time with, and had on such childish shoes. He couldn't help but smiling. Yet a child.
The girl's eyes fluttered open, the lovely creature awakening, and she instantly looked at Eames. Such bright big eyes, Eames thought as he stared back. She gave a small smile and closed her eyes once more, falling back into her sleep.
Eames left her, not wanting to be surprised by any sudden wakings. Arthur, standing by the door, his eyes half-closed, snapped up and then strutted into the room. When he reached the girl, his hand touched her shoulder gently but protectively. He had the same feeling as well.
The girl woke up and stared at him with those big bright eyes and they both smiled. Eames did as well, slightly with remorse. She would be with Arthur. Arthur would be with her. All would be well. And Eames would find another lady to woo.