A.N: Hey guys! So I felt the need to update NOW. Haha. And to answer one lovely review- Yes, AliceEvangeline, the whump with Eames will definitely come later. Maybe later in this chapter. *grins devilishly* Don't worry your pretty little head. Also, major fluff in this chapter. Hope nobody minds! Anyways, this chapter is a bit longer than the usual. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but a certain psychotic wench, her team, a few extra characters, and the plot. Inception and the characters that come with it do not belong to me.

Eames had forgotten how beautiful Italy was. The smell of figs hung in the warm air. Everything was so GREEN. The tree leaves, the vineyards, the grassy hills, it all looked so wonderful. He looked to his right and was breathless, the oxygen stolen by something- someone- more beautiful than all the landscape. His Arthur smiled back at him, his dimples flashing again. Eames smiled back at the most perfect human being he had ever seen.

"What's on your mind?" Arthur asked, his silky voice caressing Eames' heart, his mind. "You look distracted."

"The only thing that is distracting me, pet, is your perfection. I've been thinking about how none of this-" At this he gestured wildly to their surroundings, "can beat your beauty."

Arthur blushed, the rosy pink color rising from his cheeks. He looked so innocent, so boyish with that flush. "Eames, stop it. You're too kind." He reached out for the older man's hand. "I love you."

Just with those simple words, Eames' grin widened. "Those three words… you just have to say those three words, and you have me drooling like a baby. I love you so much, darling." He leaned in for a kiss. Their lips met, and the sparks flew. They were polar opposites: Arthur the responsible one, Eames the fun-loving one. Together, they were the yin to the yang. Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames, not caring if this was appropriate for public or not.

They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Arthur pulled away first, confused as to who was there. As soon as he made eye contact, his chocolate brown eyes widened. He shoved Eames out of the way, but it was too late. The sound of a gun going off tore through the air. It pierced the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.

Everything seemed to be going in slow motion as Eames hit the ground. Blood pooled out of the wound in his shoulder. He cried out in pain, the sound full of heart-wrenching agony. He reached for his gun, but couldn't make his other arm work.

Arthur screamed, "NO! EAMES!" He reached for his gun and, clicking off the safety, fired at the assailant. After the sound stopped echoing in Arthur's ears, the other person hit the ground. Unlike Eames, however, they couldn't fumble to reach anything. They were dead.

Eames gasped, "Who was that?" between short, sharp breaths.

"They worked for Felicia. God, Eames, how bad does it hurt?" Arthur fell to his knees beside Eames. His hands hung hesitantly above the bloody wound. "It looks like it went cleanly through."

"It's not too bad." Eames winced as Arthur took off his Armani suit jacket and pressed it to the spot of white hot agony. "Okay, now it hurts slightly more." He gnawed at his lush lower lip.

"I have a friend around here. They owe me a big favor. They can fix you up, okay?" Arthur stood slowly and held out his hand to help the Forger up. With a grunt, he hauled the heavier man up.

Eames staggered forward, nearly tripping. Arthur steadied him. "How far are they? Hopefully not too far, as I can only manage to walk like a drunkard. Don't want to attract any unwanted attention, right?"

"Not too far, I promise." Together, with Eames leaning heavily on Arthur, they made their way to his 'friend'.

A couple hours later, a bottle of vodka, and many gauze bandages later, Eames was good as new. Or so he had claimed. His shoulder was wrapped up, and he had to replace his shirt. Nothing was quite as suspicious as a blood-stained shirt with a bullet sized hole in it.

"Eames, are you sure you're okay?" Arthur asked quietly, concern colored darkly in his voice. "Your face is bruised, your lip is busted. How hard did you hit the ground?"

Eames ignored the scarlet blood dripping from his lip. "Not too hard, I think. Or maybe I did hit it pretty hard. I don't know, pet," he responded. Sighing, he accepted Arthur's pocket handkerchief and held it to his lower lip. "How soon can we get out of here?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You were just shot about two hours ago. You already want to leave?"

"Yeah… I just don't want Felicia to be able to track us now. How long do you give her before she notices that one of her little debutante spies is dead?" Even though his tone was light and cheery, Arthur could see that Eames was worried.

"Knowing Felicia, she probably already found out. Maybe you're right; we should get out of here. I'll see if we can borrow a car." Arthur strode away, his head held high. Eames watched as he slowly had a conversation, in Italian, with one of his 'friends'. Within the span of three sentences out of his mouth, Arthur was given a set of keys. He walked back to Eames. "Ready to go, Eames?"

"You're a bloody magician! How the hell did you get them to agree that fast?" Eames asked, his voice full of awe and shock.

Arthur smiled. "Like I said, they owe me a big favor. This is all one big favor." He leaned in and kissed Eames gently on the cheek. "Let's go."

After a few goodbyes were exchanged, the couple made their way out to the car. It was a simple black car, sleek and inconspicuous. Arthur opened the door for Eames, who kissed him as he was getting in. "Thank you, darling."

Arthur had a huge smile on his face as he carefully shut the door and made his way to the driver's seat. As soon as he got settled in, he turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred softly, responding happily as Arthur stepped on the gas. They took off down the street, pedestrians barely giving them a second look.

Minutes into their peaceful drive, Eames' phone went off. The British man reached into his pocket and pulled out the cellular device. He glanced at the caller ID before flipping it open. "Hi, Ari. What's going on, pet? Enjoying your last year of university?" He listened intently. After a minute, he cursed. "Dammit. I didn't want them to involve anyone. I'm so sorry. We'll save you, okay?" He hung up, flipping his phone shut aggressively.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked.

"They have Ariadne. They won't let her go until they have the two of us. What are we going to do, Arthur? We can't let them torture Ari." Eames' voice was full of desperation. "I know I've said mean things about her to you, but I care about her. I really do."

"I know, Eames," Arthur cooed. His voice went from the caring reassurance of a lover to the man who could think of extravagant plans in an instant. "Where are they holding her?"

"They have her in Stockholm. Do you happen to have any associates there?"

Arthur grinned devilishly. "I do, actually. You'll love her. She isn't a psychotic wench that I once worked with."

Eames groaned. "All the people you once worked with seem like they're either psychotic or something isn't right upstairs."

Arthur stuck his tongue out at Eames. "Shut up, Mr. Eames. You'll like her. I promise."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Saito chartered a private jet for the duo. They relaxed, even though what was to come was inevitable. One of them might not make it out of this alive. This was going to be the battle of life or death. Arthur grabbed Eames' hand. Eames grinned, settling back in his seat. "You know, darling. If something were to happen to me-"

"Eames, don't think like that," Arthur interrupted, grimacing.

"No, pet, this is important. If something were to happen to me, I have a letter for you hidden in one of your jackets. If something happens, I want you to read it. Okay?" Eames' sea green eyes stared into Arthur's chocolate brown eyes. "You have to promise me."

"Eames," Arthur whispered, his voice thick with tears.

"Promise!"

"Okay, Eames! I promise." A tear trailed down Arthur's cheek.

Eames kissed Arthur's hand. "I didn't mean to upset you, darling."

Arthur exhaled noisily. "You didn't upset me, Eames. I just-" Arthur's voice broke. He cleared his throat before trying to speak again. "I don't want to think about losing you. I love you too much."

Eames slowly got closer to Arthur, their lips nearly touching. "I love you so much, Arthur. I don't want to even think of the aspect of leaving you. But you have to be prepared for anything in our line of work, right?"

Arthur, after a slight hesitation, nodded. "I guess so. But I will keep you safe, even if it means me getting hurt in the process."

"If you protect my life and you die, I won't be able to live with myself. I hope you know that," Eames joked lightly, but the tears in his eyes contradicted his tone. "You are my one, my only. My other half, the protector of my heart… Arthur, you are my everything. Life without you doesn't even seem possible. You are like my sunshine after the gloomiest of storms. The warm hearth after a blizzard. You are the light at the end of the tunnel. I can't live without you." Eames' voice cracked, and the tears began to trickle down his face.

A sob strangled on Arthur's throat as he saw a new side of the love of his life. "Oh, Eames. You are perfect. I will never leave you if I have a choice." This time, as Eames got closer to him, Arthur leaned forward to close the distance between them. The jet roared to Sweden, and Arthur and Eames enjoyed every minute of each other's company. Because these moments might have been the last they got to savor.

Life becomes harder for us when we live for others, but it also becomes richer and happier.

-Albert Schweitzer