He sits, staring at the steam rising from the mug of black coffee sitting placidly in front of him. They've agreed to meet at Le Rêveur at two today.
"Eames."
1:58.
He looks up from the cup. There is a small nod and a hand outstretched towards him.
"Hello, Arthur." He stands and takes the smaller hand into his. "I hope you've been well."
Quite the unnecessary comment: the normally-smaller hand feels smaller than usual; Arthur has shown up 2 minutes early, instead of the customary 10; strong cologne to mask the slight (but not unpleasant) body odor; ridged hair, hasn't been washed but hastily combed through twice... thrice, Eames decides; spiderweb wrinkles in Arthur's off-white shirt- worn for four days now.
Eames smiles as Arthur takes a seat. Out of courtesy, he makes an effort to return the smile, but it is tight and with pursed lips, it's more of a wince.
As said, it's only an effort. Arthur lets the smile drop, so Eames lets his eyes wander away from his face, lets them observe the warmth of the cafe (atmosphere is set wonderfully by candles). There is a slight grimace on one of the waiter's faces as she tries to balance a tray on her right hand (a roller-blading accident, Eames decides), and behind the row of succulent aloe plants to the right of Arthur, the woman sitting at the corner table probably has frown lines due to her boss cutting her pay roll with some illegitimate reason. Ambient light from the candles throws the black and white of the cafe's wonderfully enchanting tables into a nice sepia, and with the spiral design, it's like he's looking into a perpetually swirling cup of coffee.
"Eames, hurry up, and skip the formalities. Why did you call me?"
He keeps his eyes on the spiral. It makes his eyes whirl and now he's getting a bit dizzy, but the buzz is cozy and he doesn't stop when his head seems to start pulsing with motion. The spiral and the drumming of Arthur's fingers on its glassy surface are hypnotizing.
Finger drumming? It seems that Mr. Cool-Calm-and-Collected has picked up a new habit (new emotions: panic; anxiety; impatience; frustration?) Eames doesn't look up, but his eyes slowly wander to the lean fingers tapping softly across the table.
Which Arthur notices,
and so he stops.
Well, now that Arthur's uncomfortable enough, now's a good a time as any to break it to him. Eames draws in a breath and looks back down at the spiral.
"There's a new job."
Eames is expecting Arthur to rail at him about how he's quit the business or to angrily huff and stride out the door.
But the thing is, Arthur isn't even clearing his throat in disapproval.
Eames looks up, and Arthur's face is almost as composed as it was before. If it weren't for the extra wrinkles around the lips and the slightly more ashen pallor of Arthur's face, he would have thought that Arthur just hadn't heard.
It's thirteen seconds by Eames's count before Arthur licks his lips to speak.
"A job."
"Yes."
"Regarding?"
"A woman."
It's not until Eames makes a slight face that Arthur realizes that he's raised his brow.
"A woman?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Apparently, she has some very important secrets."
"How important?"
"The employer says that it's a matter of 'national security'."
"National security?" Arthur snorts. "Since when are you working for the government?"
"I'm not. Do you really know me that little, Arthur? I would never. It's for...," Eames runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he searches for the word.
"A friend."
"A friend. Really."
"Yes."
"Oh yes, because every friend is involved with matters of national security."
Eames crinkles his forehead. "He's actually quite an important person, Arthur."
"Important enough to start again?"
Arthur watches Eames nod slowly, but in truth, both of them know that the answer wouldn't have mattered. Arthur's eyes had started sparkling at the word "job", and Eames has seen it and he knows he's hooked. It's been so long since Arthur could breathe, since he could think. Without the work, his brain has been rotting.
And now it's here, sitting in front of him, waiting to be taken, toyed with,
conquered.
"Eames."
He draws in a breath.
Composure, Arthur, he tells himself. Mustn't be too hasty.
"Yes, darling?"
"You have considered that we have no resources anymore, after what happened with-"
Eames cuts him off with a sour face. "Of course. You worry too much about the little things. Our employer has enough resources to run the British government. We're totally covered."
It's tempting. "And the crew?"
"Oh, I was hoping you'd ask." Waggling his fingers, Eames leans down onto the floor to pull out three folders from a sleek, black suitcase with a flourish. Arthur sits on his hands as Eames pushes the first forward.
Oh God, he already has everything planned out.
"Mary Morstan. Our new chemist. Yusuf referred me to her. She's been working with him on her own version of somnacin, and will be taking over for him on this one. He himself acknowledges that it's more powerful than his."
Arthur looks down at her picture, and feels a bit bare. It's like she's staring right back at him, straight through him. Her dark blond hair frames her face quite nicely, but it's her stare that gets him. Despite the fact that it's just a photograph, her eyes are beacons of power and confidence, a stunning complement to the slight smirk she sports on her face.
"Now if we're done ogling..." Eames flips the second folder open as Arthur snaps his head up to glare at him. "Sebastian Moran. Extractor." He places this folder in front of Arthur as well, as if to cut off the insult before it's out of Arthur's mouth. "Our employer found him."
Admittedly a lot less hair than on Ms. Morstan. He has short black hair parted to the left, and thin, weasel-like eyes. His eyes are half-closed, as if he's going to sleep, but the green of his irises is alarmingly bright.
"Is he any good?"
"I admit he's a rookie, but I've heard he's like a second D-"
"Continue."
It's still there. The swinging bridge that neither of them wants to cross.
And so they don't. He's still sort of a taboo subject: the one who brought the team together, but the one who's torn them apart. Arthur digs his nails into his thighs as he represses a shiver, and Eames tries to pull a smile back onto his face.
"Well," he says lightly, "We'll definitely be prepared this time! Our employer's also heard about the Saito incident, and he wants us to bring a doctor along for this." Eames opens the third folder and places it on top of the other two.
"John Watson. He's an ex-army doctor from Afghanistan."
First thing Arthur notices is the stiffness. Dr. Watson's jaw is set and the eyes look straight at the camera. The shoulders are perfectly square, and Arthur can practically piece the rest of him together, the solid, slightly stocky build with the steadiness of an obelisk.
Steady. Yes, but there's something about him that tugs at Arthur's gut and makes him nervous. Steady, but stable? There's weight on that face, wrinkles of tension and fear and sadness. And those eyes. Those unwavering eyes. Dead eyes.
"An army doctor?"
"He's seen a lot of injuries and deaths, and he's good with dealing with things quickly and efficiently. I think he's be a good addition to our team."
Arthur nods as he pushes the uneasiness down. As long as Watson gets the work done, it'll be fine.
And he feels a bit better, because he can't deny that this team is a strong one. It's good.
But there's something missing.
"What about the architect?"
Eames's smile grows wider, but he doesn't bring out another folder.
Arthur knows. Yup, he's sold.
"Wellll, Ariadne wanted back in, so she'll be coming along with us. And I highly doubt you'll need to see her files, Arthur."
Arthur can practically hear Eames wink after that last line, but he doesn't really care. His mood has lightened considerably, and he doesn't want to ruin it. Ariadne coming back? Oh, it's practically Christmas.
He laces his hands together and stretches them in front of him. His fingers are itching for a puzzle. He can already see it in his hands, his own little piece of impossible.
"So what's the verdict, darling?"
He can feel it.
And he'll take it.
He looks up and his eyes meet Eames's.
"When do we start?"
A very big thank-you to thisisforyou for beta'ing this and giving me guidance and pointers!