Sleep would not come easily to Eames that night. It resisted him like a particularly stubborn and suspicious mark, refusing to trust his forged identity. When the softly glowing display of his bedside alarm clock read 03:35, he was still awake and felt like he had been tossing and turning for hours.

Maybe Arthur's insomnia was contagious…? If so, then Eames had given the bug ideal conditions – after all, all a virus asks for are a weakened immune system and bodily contact with an infected person. He shook his head. Those were strange thoughts. After all, he knew perfectly well where Arthur's sleeping problems came from. And he knew what was keeping him awake, too.

Suspense.

He knew that somewhere in this building, in a room very similar to his own, Arthur lay awake, his brilliant mind considering options, weighing pros and cons, assessing, reviewing, evaluating. Eames suddenly remembered his sister Julia telling him about the writing on the wall, when they had been children. As a girl, Julia had been fascinated by riddles and mysteries, and the more gruesome a story, the better she liked it. To Eames, who had then been only eight years old, she had seemed like a heroine from one of her own stories. He remembered gazing at the wall of his twilit bedroom, shuddering as he imagined the terrible writing appear; the letters drawn by invisible fingers. "You have been weighed on the scales and found wanting."

Eames had never been religious, nor particularly superstitious, but even as a child, he had instinctively understood the message of the story. Our lives may not be predetermined by some higher power, but our fate often enough rests in the hands of others. It is their decisions that steer us in one direction or the other.

Eames was at the crossroads now, and even though he felt pretty sure that he knew by now which path he wanted to take, everything depended on Arthur's willingness to walk that road with him.

And are you willing, darling…? I don't know. If I believed in God, I would be praying for divine intervention right now.

At some point after thinking that, he had to have fallen asleep, since he woke up around half past seven, feeling groggy and slightly disoriented. After a quick, cold shower that helped him to clear his mind, he once again found himself in front of the mirror. And maybe he was a bit superstitious, after all, because putting on the blue shirt felt like activating a lucky charm.

He shrugged, giving his mirror image a lopsided grin. It worked once, didn't it?

He left the room and went downstairs; and after taking two wrong turns finally arrived in the breakfast room shortly past eight o'clock. The large windows displayed a magnificent view of wintery grey London beneath an equally grey sky that was pouring rain on the city. Not a very promising sight and the somewhat hushed atmosphere in the room matched it perfectly.

He found Dom and his children, Ariadne and Arthur sitting at a table near the back of the room. Saito, who was apparently doing his morning rounds, checking on his guests, had just arrived and was leaning on a chair, talking to them in quiet tones. Ariadne was smiling and making conversation. Dom listened attentively, stirring his coffee. Arthur looked as if he couldn't care less.

Eames walked across the room casually, and then slid into the empty chair next to Philippa, who beamed up at him. "Eames! Good morning!"

"Morning, sweetie. You finally got to wear pink at a wedding, didn't you?"

She grinned happily. "You saw my dress yesterday? Isn't it pretty?"

"It is very pretty."

"Ariadne bought it for me. We went shopping together!"

Eames looked up, winking at Ariadne across the table. She looked amused.

"That sounds like fun."

"It was. But Eames…?"

"Yes?"

"I do get to wear pink at your wedding, too, don't I?" Philippa looked at him expectantly. "You promised!"

"And I keep my promises," Eames assured her. "But you might have to wear a different pink dress then, you are growing so fast."

"Oh, that's alright. I'm sure I'll find another one I like."

"You are getting married, Eames?" Arthur's voice sent thrills down his back. He looked up and across, the table. Arthur was looking at him intently, but it was impossible to say what he was thinking. His face looked tired, though.

Suddenly, Eames felt unsure what to say; and that didn't happen very often. Arthur continued to look at him, his dark eyes unreadable, and in the end Eames decided to simply skip the question entirely. "And a good morning to you, too, Arthur. You look bad. Did you sleep at all?"

Arthur frowned. "You of all people shouldn't have to ask that. We need to…"

.. Talk, he had probably wanted to say, but he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, because James, who sat next to him, knocked over his newly filled cup of cocoa trying to reach for another bread roll. Steaming hot cocoa poured down on Arthur's lap, spilling over his light grey pants and white shirt. Arthur gave a surprised yelp and tried to get out of the way, but it was too late.

"Oh dear," Ariadne caught the fallen cup.

James stared at the mess he had made with wide, innocent eyes. "I'm sorry!" He spluttered.

To everybody's surprise, Arthur's scowl turned to a somewhat pained smile and he ruffled the little boy's hair. "Don't worry. It was an accident."

Ariadne handed him a napkin, but Arthur shook his head. "It's no use. I'll go upstairs and get changed."

As a server was called to change the dishcloth and wipe away the remnants of cocoa, Arthur hot up and left the room. Eames raised his eyebrows at Dom. "What was that all about? James pours his drink all over Arthur's prized clothing, and all he says is 'Don't worry'? He almost murdered me when I accidentally spilled a tiny bit of champagne on his shirt last year!"

It wasn't Dom who answered, but Ariadne: "You aren't six years old anymore, though," she told him with a smile, "Arthur is probably mad, especially since the stuff was hot, but he would never lash out at a child."

"Arthur is mad at me?" James asked worriedly. "I didn't mean to…! It just happened!"

Ariadne turned towards him. "No, not at you. He loves you guys." Then, turning back to Eames she added: "You could do a good deed, Eames. Go upstairs and bring Arthur some coffee. He'll probably fuss over his clothes for quite a while, and he looked as if he could really need some caffeine."

Eames shrugged. "Anything you say."

Especially if it means there is a chance I might get to see Arthur half naked…

Unwittingly, James and Ariadne had just given him the perfect setup for that much needed conversation with Arthur, so he was not about to complain.

"Arthur…? It's me. May I…?"

"Come in, it's open."

Eames opened the door, stepping into the hotel room and was startled by the sight of Arthur wearing nothing but his cocoa-stained pants.

"Why, bless me…!" He said. "The world has all grown strange. I'm wearing a dress shirt and you aren't…? Never thought I'd see the day, darling."

Arthur shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "I'm afraid I ran out of clean, ironed shirts. I wasn't planning on getting hot cocoa spilled all over me when I packed my suitcase," he admitted.

"So you decided to go topless for the rest of the day?" Eames suggested. "Way to go, pet! I'm sure I'm not the only one who'll appreciate that."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur huffed, "I'm going to take a shower, then change. Luckily I brought along a pair of jeans and a sweater."

"You even own such things?" Eames just couldn't resist the urge to tease him.

"Are you here to mock me?" Arthur asked crossly.

"Actually, I was bringing you coffee." He held up the cup.

Arthur's expression softened slightly. "Okay, maybe I don't hate you that much, after all. Let me just get cleaned up, then we can talk, alright?"

"You want any help with that?" Eames asked slyly.

"Ha! You wish," Arthur snorted, before taking the cup from him and disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.

"Actually, I do," Eames replied, sure that Arthur would hear him even through the closed door. "You can't expect me to resist temptation when it constantly parades around right in front of me, can you?"

"Well, maybe you would get farther if you actually told people what you want from them," Arthur replied from within the bathroom.

"Is that supposed to be a hint?" Eames called, but even if Arthur actually replied anything to that, it was drowned by the sound of running water.

Eames shrugged and vowed to corner Arthur as soon as he stepped out of the shower. In the meantime, though, he was in need of a distraction, and Arthur's iPod, propped up in its shiny black docking station, looked pretty tempting. He idly flipped through the tracks and albums. Arthur had a strange taste in music, covering everything from Mozart's Requiem to Madonna. Eames randomly hit one of the playlists, which turned out to be a Linkin Park medley, then flopped down onto the bed and waited for Arthur to emerge from the bathroom.

He was only dimly aware of the music playing in the background, but when Arthur stepped back into the room, he sat up straight and for a moment actually listened to the song.

"…I want to heal, I want to feel,
Like I'm close to something real
I want to find something I wanted all along
Somewhere I belong…"

Eames raised his eyebrows. "How very… fitting, pet."

Arthur cast him a wry look. "Well, I suppose that's called gallows humor." He passed a hand through his slightly tousled hair, suddenly looking young and lost in his oversized grey hoodie.

Once again, Eames felt his heart break at the sight. It was a small wonder that there was anything left of it at all, considering how many times it had broken and he had mended it – or at least attempted to do so – recently. Reaching a sudden decision, he asked: "What are you doing for Christmas…?"

Arthur shrugged uncomfortably. "Not much, I guess. Just the usual… spending a few quiet days at home. Dom invited me to spend time with him and the kids. I'm not sure I should go, though… it's their first Christmas back together, and I think it should be a family thing."

A family thing. Merely saying that had to hurt him more than Eames could imagine.

"You're probably right," he said, "you should come along and stay with me and my family instead."

Arthur turned to look at him, an astonished expression on his face. "Why ever would I do that…? I don't know them at all."

"Yes, well, that's the whole point of getting to know them, right? Come on, darling, it'll be fun! My family's a little strange, but I think you'll like them. And I'm sure they'd like you."

… because I can't see how anybody could NOT like you… his mind supplied.

"Do you always bring your friends over for Christmas?" Arthur asked curiously.

Eames shook his head. "No. Just you. And don't you dare to ask me why I'm doing it."

A small smile crept on Arthur's face. "That was going to be my next question…" Then he sobered, shaking his head. "It's a kind offer, Eames, but I'll have to decline. Christmas is for family, and you should spend it with them and not drag any other people into it. I'll be fine, I always have been…"

Yeah, right.

Eames sighed in exasperation. "Don't be such a stubborn git, Arthur. If it makes you feel better, I'll wrap a giant bow around you and declare you my very special Christmas present to myself… you know what, just listen to this…" He reached out to touch the I-Pod in its mounting and flipped to the next song in the playlist.

Arthur raised his brows. "And…?"

"That song."

"What about it?"

"It's called 'Breaking the Habit', darling, and that's what you should do."

To his surprise, Arthur actually smiled. "You won't let me refuse, will you?"

"Nope. You've got no choice, pet. But I promise it'll be worth it. Come here." He patted the mattress next to where he was sitting.

Arthur eyed him curiously for a long moment, then he stepped closer. Eames reached out for him and pulled Arthur down beside him. "Now," he said quietly, "I apologize for keeping you up all night; but did it at least help you to see things more clearly?"

"Clearly?" Arthur raised his brows. "You've got to be kidding me. My life is a mess, and you are not helping. Quite the opposite, actually." But they were very close, and Eames saw a spark of amusement dance in Arthur's eyes that belied the gruffness of his voice. "You are such a nuisance, really. But since you refuse to go away, no matter what I do or say, I've decided to give it a try. It's dangerous and foolish, and it'll probably get us both killed, or worse; but it seems that I don't have much of a choice, anyway." He looked straight at Eames, his eyes dark and solemn. "I need you. It's too late to leave now, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

Eames felt his breath catch as he drowned in those dark eyes. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, darling," he whispered.

Arthur reached up to touch his cheek, softly running his fingers down the side of Eames' face. "Not yet," he replied softly, tilting up Eames' chin and leaning forward to kiss him.

Compared to the thrill of Arthur's almost-declaration of love, the rest of the day passed in a rather quiet and ordinary fashion. Eames would have been only too pleased to explore all the possibilities of 'I need you', but Arthur, uptight as ever, would have none of that. Instead, they returned downstairs and had breakfast.

Arthur tried to act as if nothing had happened, but Eames grinning from ear to ear was a dead giveaway, and neither Ariadne nor Dom or Yusuf, who had finally joined them, were that oblivious.

Eames felt Ariadne nudge him under the table, and when he looked up she smiled and winked at him.

Arthur noticed it, too, and rolled his eyes.

"I know what you are thinking right now," He informed her, "one word about it, and I'll throw your Christmas present into the nearest fireplace."

Ariadne stuck out her tongue at him.

"Speaking of Christmas," Dom said, "the children and I are leaving at noon and I need to know whether to expect you or not." He looked at Arthur questioningly. "You know that we would love to have you there."

Arthur smiled softly. "Thank you," he replied sincerely, "but I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

Dom looked slightly dejected, but not very surprised. He opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur cut him short. "I'm not going to spend Christmas alone in New York and get drunk or anything stupid. Don't worry."

"Hm…" Dom looked from him to Eames and back, and a look of amusement crossed his face. "Well… judging by the fact that Eames is grinning like a Cheshire cat, I think I can hazard a guess as to where you are going to spend Christmas."

"Oh…?" Ariadne asked, smirking. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Eames said simply. "Where everybody goes for Christmas."

Notes:

The two Linkin Park songs mentioned in this chapter are "Somewhere I Belong" and "Breaking the Habit".

The story about the writing on the wall is from the biblical book of Daniel. The writing in question was a warning message to Belshazzar, king of Babylon.

Arthur's taste in music reflects my own. I will listen to almost anything, except German folk music, which is a modern form of medieval torture. Think Vogon poetry from "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy".