Note to Readers: This story is completely written. There are a total of 4 parts which will be posted soon enough.

Part 2

Smirking down at me, my boyfriend leans in next to my ear and pants out, "Fuck you're beautiful, Arthur. Spread out just for me." I toss my head back as his hips shift. Nngh. "Just. For. Me." He punctuates each word with a mind-numbing thrust that has my words sticking in my throat. Oh God. My nails dig deep into his back as I roll my hips up to meet him. Everything is too hot, too stifling, too much. I just—just—want to—fuck. "Come on, Arthur," he growls. "Come for me."

The words rip through me. "Eames!" I come with a fierce shudder, my whole body quaking in his arms as a near violent howl tears out of me. His broad hands tighten about my waist, the fingers pressing hard into my flesh and the nails scratching thick lines down my side. With two more haphazard thrusts, my lover comes with a shout, spilling hot and quick inside of me. I resist the urge to smile at the feeling and instead settle on wrapping my still shaking arms about his back as he collapses on top of me. "You great oaf," I murmur.

"You weren't complaining just a moment ago." I can practically hear the leer in his voice.

"Shut up."

"I love you too." I can't help but smile at the words. You sap. I bury my face into his neck with a sigh and nearly drift off. Not that I would. This is a dream after all. "I do love you, Arthur." I shake my head. You already said that.

"I love you too."

"That's why I'm sorry I have to do this." Huh? Do what exactly? He kisses the side of my neck as he sneaks a hand under the pillows. Don't try to distract me. This isn't how this memory is supposed to end… "Never forget that I love you. Never." Holy fucking hell. The cool barrel of his gun slides up my neck. I still. "This is for us. Just remember that and everything will be alright. I have very little time, so keep on dreaming, darling. Dream of us." The gun clicks cold and ruthless next to me.

I startle awake and nearly fall from the bed. I wrench the needle out of my arm and grab at my pounding skull. FUCK FUCK FUCK! Not again. This isn't happening. This cannot be happening. I'm going crazy. I honestly don't understand. I really must be going insane. Against my better judgment, I grab my cell from the bedside table and immediately click the number 2 speed-dial. After four rings, I get a response. "What do you want Arthur? You do realize that it's four in the morning, right?"

Damn it. I groan and rub at my gritty eyes, forcing back the wave of pain searing my head. Shit, I guess it could be worse. Better to ask him while he's half asleep and too exhausted to pester me with questions. "When you used the PASIV to dream of Mal, did she ever kill you?"

There's a long pause. "No. Arthur, you know that's not possible. She was nothing more than a projection. Projections can't harm their creator. You know this."

"Yeah, yeah, okay fine. I'll see you at work."

"Wait, now hold on a second. What's going on, Arthur? This isn't like you." Ugh, the mothering version of Cobb has stepped in. Fuck off, Dom.

"Nothing. I'll see you later today."

"Oh no no no. If you hang up on me, so help me, I will drive over there right now."

UUGGHH. This was a huge mistake. I blame my poor judgment on the lack of sleep. I suppose there's no point in beating around the bush. It's not like Dom doesn't know what I've been doing; and it's not as though he won't pester me mercilesslyuntil I cave. "He killed me."

"What are you talking about?"

Sighing, I flop back onto the pillows. Come on Dom, if you're going to ask questions then keep up. "When I've been using the PASIV, he's killed me. Three times as a matter of fact." Almost unconsciously, I shift over onto his side of the bed and snuggle in against his pillow. I take a shuddering gulp of air and breathe in the lingering smell. Fuck. Despite what has just happened my whole body relaxes and for a moment I almost believe the illusion that I could fall asleep like this. Almost.

"You mean Eames?"

"Well obviously."

"That's not possible," he replies all seriousness.

Well deducted, Cobb; as if I haven't been saying that to myself non-stop for the past forty-eight hours. "Yeah, well, it is now apparently. He strangled me and then shot me point blank in the head—twice."

There is long silence. Umm, Dom? "Are you absolutely sure that you were using the PASIV?"

The fact that he's questioning me is a big red flag. He's worried and that's never a good sign. Cobb is notorious for pulling things off with a half-assed plan and almost no preparation. If he's concerned…well this bodes poorly for me. "Yes, I'm positive."

"Alright, go to sleep—without the PASIV—and I will see you first thing in the morning. We'll discuss it then, okay?" Already I can hear the cogs chugging around inside his head. I suppose this was not a complete disaster. Cobb may be a bit insufferable at times, but he has a good mind and that's always useful.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning. Good night, Dom."

"Good night, Arthur."

I toss the phone back onto the end table and huddle under the covers. I don't even bother straying from his side of the bed. If I want any semblance of sleep this is the only way. Urgh. When did I become so dependent on him? When did it all shift from a want to a need? I can still feel him; thick fingers spreading over my ribs and down my waist, pulling me flush against his body and his face digging into my neck to snore softly in my ear. This situation is outright pathetic is what it is. I just want you to come home. I want to wake up with you beside me, sprawled across the bed as if you own it while I'm forced to curl up in the corner. Ever so gently, I trace my fingers down along the comforter and sigh. I am utterly pitiful. You've been gone for five months now. Why can I not say 'goodbye'? What makes one little word so difficult? Even when you left for the last time, I could not say the word. But then, you and I were never good at farewells. You and I both would distract the other from saying our 'goodbyes' until one of us was literally running out the door with nothing more than a hollered, 'I love you'. I cannot lie to myself though: the guilt still eats me alive at times. We spent the morning fucking and joking, but not once did I bid him farewell. I should have, I would have, if I had but known; however, I didn't. I did nothing to keep him home. I did nothing to stop him from leaving.

"I'll be gone nearly three weeks. Think you can manage without me?"

"Seriously you're asking me that? It'll be a nice break."

"Bloody tosser." He strides over to me and walks me backwards till our bodies hit the wall. Leaning in, he kisses a rushed line up my neck before capturing my lips. The kiss is little more than greedy mouths and clashing teeth, tongues dueling for dominance in reflection with our hands. Wrapping his fingers tightly around my wrists, he slams my arms against the wall and shifts his hips against mine. Damn it! I struggle in his hold as his hips start to grind against me. No, no, no, this always gets me off way too quickly. Not in my pants. Not again! Despite my struggles he doesn't release me, although truthfully I can't be bothered enough to care. I roll my pelvis without a thought and whimper into our frantic kiss. He pulls back at the sound and stops moving completely. No. NO! Finish it! He smirks at the pathetic whine that tumbles out of me. "Are you going to miss me?"

"N-not if you don't finish this," I pant.

"And if I don't?"

I barely manage to wheeze, "I'll kill you."

He tsks me. "Oh darling, your threats are losing their edge." He thrusts against me once in a torturous tease. "If I don't leave in the next five minutes, I'm going to miss my flight." How can you be talking about that at a time like this? How are you even forming complete sentences? I don't give a damn about your flight. I just want you to make me come.

"Please."

"Please what?" he whispers.

"Please." I'm not even sure what it is specifically I'm begging for. I simply want him.

He smiles, that big wide smile that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. It nearly makes me scowl. "Okay, darling." Faster than I care to comprehend, he has his trousers undone and is pulling down my pajama bottoms. So swiftly does he handle this problem that it takes me a moment to realize that one of my hands is free. Next thing I know, my eyes are rolling back in my skull and my head is crashing into the wall. He squeezes me tight when I moan. "Christ, you are gorgeous. I could spend all day fucking you. But Arthur, love, you gotta help me out here." Help you—oh! I skim my hand down his chest and then grasp hold of his cock. The pleasure is sweet, intense, and painful. Everything is hot and overwhelming. Mind-numbing. "Arthur, look at me." My eyes drag open and I see him, I see all of him and it is glorious: the swollen lips, the flushed cheeks, and more than anything else, the blazing look in his eyes as if he could devour me, that look that tells me I will always be his. "Come now."

I don't know how I do it, but with a final pull, I'm gasping out my orgasm. Oh God! My body relaxes as it comes down from its high. I don't know when it happened, but my boyfriend's cock is tight in my hand as he drips hot and wet down my fingers. We stand there staring at one another, panting. After a minute, the hand holding my other wrist in place slowly makes it way down to cup my chin. He touches his lips against mine is the softest of manners before letting go. "I love you."

"I love you too," I murmur.

"Now, help me get cleaned up. If I'm late because of you, I'm going to chain you to the bed next time and fuck you senseless." My cock gives a weak twitch at the idea causing my lover to burst into laughter. "You are utterly insatiable."

I snort. "If you're late it is going to be your own fault. You were the one that decided we needed to stay in bed for an extra two hours this morning. I tried to warn you."

"Ahem, pardon me you pretentious arsehole. You didn't try to stop me once. In fact, you were begging me to stay and we all know that I don't turn down such nice requests."

"Shut up." I can feel a dull heat flaming my cheeks.

He was out the door less than two minutes later, the two of us hissing insults and endearments until the very last moment. Perhaps deep down we knew that at any given moment we could wind up dead somewhere in a gutter; that we might never see each other again. Maybe it was the best way to forget the nastiness our job sometimes entails. Maybe, just maybe, by never saying 'goodbye' we could pretend that we would never have to. Or perhaps I'm just being a complete idiot and looking into this far more than necessary.

I need to let go. I need to say 'goodbye' and be done with it. But I'm not going to—not yet. First I need to solve this mystery. Stopping my overuse of the PASIV can wait just a bit longer. I know it's an excuse and a bad one at that. Nevertheless, my excuses are better than the alternative (as I've been telling myself for over three months). Everything is better than the alternative.

X

"You look like shit."

"Thanks Dom."

He holds up his hands in defense. "Hey, don't bitch at me. You are the one who was up at four in the morning."

I close my eyes and count to five. I must reign in my temper. I must reign in my temper. It is the only the lack of sleep. "Dom, you're an ass."

"Yeah, and you're a complete idiot. After everything that you've been through and everything you've witnessed how the hell did you let things get this bad? You're supposed to be the intelligence officer."

Fucking dick. I want to be angry at him. I want to shout at him, scream at him, blame him; however, I know better. The truth is there to see—he's absolutely right. "I don't disagree with you, but you're still an absolute prick."

Dom's lips twist into a wry smile. "I know." Settling himself in a chair, he motions me over to adjacent seat. "Come on, we've gotta talk about this." Sighing, I follow his lead and sit myself down. This day is going to be very long indeed. 'Patience, darling. Don't you have any patience?' Get out of my head! "Arthur? You still with me?"

"Yes," I hiss. "Of course."

Dom leans back in his chair. "Okay, now tell me everything about what's been going on. And seriously Arthur, I mean everything. I was unfortunate enough times to hear you two going at it. I don't care if you don't think it's important or that it's personal. If you can't get over that then we might as well not be here."

I blow out a harsh breath. "Fine. I'll tell you everything."

X

"I know this doesn't make sense, but from what you've described to me, it's as though you're in a shared dream and someone is creating a forgery of Eames." My immediate response is a glare. How many times have I told you not to say that name?

"First problem with that is how can I be in a shared dream when there is no one else there? Proximity is important. And besides, what would be the purpose behind acting kind towards me then killing me to wake me up? If someone sharing my dreams or memories wanted to hurt me, torture would be the obvious choice. That would be far more effective than killing me."

Cobb taps a finger on the table as he considers my words. "I know it is unlikely, but how do you know you aren't sharing the dream? You always use it alone. How can you be certain that after you fall asleep someone isn't joining in?"

Cobb, you're smart. Don't put doubts in my mind. "How can that possibly be if I'm the first to awaken? They'd still be there."

Lips pursing, Dom replies, "Point taken. Well, then how about this thought: there is a form of dream sharing going on, that is a certainty, but, it is happening from a distance."

Did we not just discuss the unfeasibility of that? I sigh, frustrated. "Dom—"

"No Arthur, wait. Hear me out." Okay. What is it? My partner looks at me, his face pulled into an expression I don't quite understand. "I was talking to Yusuf the other day about some new sedatives he's been working on. It's really fascinating actually, he's been working on using—" the words stop the moment he catches my expression. Dom, back on topic please. He coughs and then says, "Well, yeah, anyways, Yusuf was telling me about some rumors that have been flying around. In fact, I'm surprised you haven't heard about it already. This sort of thing is your job after all." I hear a practically inaudible growl. It takes me only a few seconds to realize that it is me. "Yeah, okay okay. Well apparently, there is a group attempting to create a way to share dreams over distances. I don't know how accurate the rumors are or whether they've actually accomplished anything. However, it is a thought."

Taking in a large gulp of air, I consider the thought. Is it possible? Could someone really be invading my dreams without my knowing it? "So you're saying that there is a possibility that this group has created a way to share my dreams from a distance?" When the thought fully registers in my brain, everything comes to a stop. Someone might be invading my dreams and memories…with him? Suddenly I want to hurl. And almost a second later I want to scream.

"Arthur. Arthur!" I don't listen to him; I'm already standing and moving about in jerky strides. This. Isn't. Happening.

I turn around to face the only other human in the room and hiss, "Cobb, if you don't get me something to shoot in the next ten seconds, I'm going to spell my name on your chest with bullets." I am not kidding you, Dom! Give me something to fucking SHOOT! I pull out my gun and cock it.

"Okay! Okay! Come on, to the training area!" Grasping my wrist, he drags me along to our small matted area that we use for exercising. "Now stay there and don't move!" He races away and comes back with a handful of coke cans. Disgusting. Is that what you've been drinking the entire time we've been working here? He quickly lines them up on a table across the room and steps away. "Try to hit the cans so that the holes in the wall are slightly smaller." I lift my gun as he finishes with a, "Please."

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. I listen to the sound of each bullet with a furious vengeance. I will murder anyone who has been fucking around in my head. Anyone. The sound of the shots rings loudly in my ears, deafening me. I look at the cans rolling about on the floor and the small holes in the wall. Panting, I let my gun arm fall slowly to my side. "Feel better?" a voice says from behind me.

"A little."

"Good. Now that your tantrum is over, can we get back to trying to figure this out? If our theory is correct, we're going to have to do some investigating and fast. If there's a breach in our security, then we can't do our jobs. I'll call up Yusuf and try to get that contact from him tonight."

We? Oh no, I don't think so. Sighing, I turn around and stare at Dom. "This isn't your problem. It's mine." There is no need for your meddling.

The answering look is little more than an unimpressed stare, eyebrows raised and lips pulled thin. "Arthur, you would never allow me to do a mission like this on my own. We're friends. We're a team."

"Will you interfere with this even if I tell you, 'no'?"

When I see his smile, I know. Damn it Cobb! "Of course."

I narrow my eyes, nevertheless he just smiles harder. You're such a jackass. "You have a family. Even though our jobs are mostly legal now, I don't want you getting into some shady business for me."

Clapping me on the shoulder, Dom gives it a quick squeeze. "We're in this together, Arthur. Deal with it."

Christ. "Fine." Just don't make me regret it!