AN: One more chapter after this. Thank you to the people who review, follow and favorite this story. It makes my day every time someone does this. Enjoy.

The quick talk with General Hammond wasn't as hard as Eames had thought it might be which was good. He also learned that Arthur had actually remained in DC until he had learned of Eames waking up again though he had apparently disappeared again. Cobb said that he had left for another job though which really didn't surprise Eames at all. After that, Cobb and Saito left and Ariadne soon left probably about an hour later but Robert stayed by his side.

"You don't have to stay here if you don't want to," Eames remarked.

"And why would I not want to?"

"Because it smells, is uncomfortable, and the food is terrible," replied Eames.

"Yeah, but you're here so I'm alright with it. Besides, you did the same for me."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Days began to pass and as they did, Eames began to heal more and more. His skin was growing back pretty well where it had been burnt though there would almost in defiantly be scarring. His ribs were doing well along with the cracks that had been in his skull too. There wasn't any brain damage thank goodness though the doctors seemed to be more concerned about the psychological damage.

A psychiatrist began coming almost every day much to Eames dismay, forcing Robert out of the room every time. She wasn't absolutely horrible but for a psychiatrist she sure wasn't very trusting of her patients it seemed like.

"How have you currently been feeling? Emotionally that is," she asked once.

"Fine."

"No nightmares, no flashes of intense memory?"

"No, I'm fine."

"So no thoughts of suicide then? What about just self harm or maybe harming someone else?"

"I told you I'm fine."

"Is there perhaps no one you care for anymore? Did you think you weren't wanted? Maybe you regretted something else. Have you ever been abused or been an abuser? How is your relationship with your partner?"

"I told you I was fucking fine and leave Robert out of this!"

She wrote something down on her clipboard after Eames' outburst and then asked, "Are you sure?"

Eames was pretty sure that if his hands weren't so badly bandaged then he would have strangled her right there and then. He actually thought of clubbing her to death with his hands but decided that probably wasn't as good idea as it sounded at the moment. "Yes I'm sure," he ended up saying and thank god she left after that.

Robert thankfully didn't try to get anything out of Eames. He actually didn't ask about anything that happened. It seemed that he was perfectly fine with never knowing if that was what Eames preferred, even if he was still probably curious.

Though, for the moment he wasn't going to say anything, Eames promised himself that he would eventually tell Robert of what happened nonetheless.

Weeks turned into a month and finally the psychiatrist wasn't apparently necessary anymore which thrilled Eames a lot. However, the bones in his hands had healed and the bandages were now coming off. The fingernails that had been torn off on his right hand had fully grown back underneath too.

Now that the bandages were off he had to go through therapy for his hands. Before he even began it though the doctors said that it was unlikely he'd be in full control of his hands for a long time if ever again.

At first, Eames hadn't really believed them until therapy session.

"Now, we're going to start with something simple. I want you to pick up and squeeze this," a doctor said, pointing to a stress ball on a small table in front of Eames.

Eames picked it up and found that his hand shook. However, he tried to ignore it as he tried to squeeze the ball. He couldn't even make a dent in it. He tried not to let that get him angry and he actually succeed for the first time. However, after two more sessions he couldn't take it anymore and ended up throwing the thing he was suppose to pick up and work with on the floor as he let his head hit the table.

The doctor who had been working with him thankfully didn't say anything. Just let Eames yell it out. Eames really couldn't help it, he was so mad at himself even though it really wasn't his fault at all.

One day, as he sat on the edge of his hospital bed, Robert next to him, he said, "I'll never be able to do anything ever again."

"Good job Eames. Always look on the bright side," Robert replied sarcastically even though it was obvious that he was worried about this too. "Eames, it hasn't even been a week since you've been working with your hands. The doctors did say it could take a while."

"Or that I'd never be able to use them."

"Will you stop saying that? I feel like you there should be a storm cloud above you or that you should be in all black."

"How about I go jump off a bridge then?"

"Say that again and I'm going to go get the psychiatrist that you seemed to love so much."

"No it's just that . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Urgh, I need to tape my mouth shut before I really say something stupid."

"Don't worry, it's to late for that," replied Robert which actually brought a small smile to Eames lips.

"Yeah, on that you are right I guess. But now I can barely hold anything. My whole job involves writing so what am I going to do?"

"Quit your job."

"Robert I'm not going to live off you."

"You don't have to. Not forever anyway. Just until you can use your hands again."

"But what if—"

"I am not in the mood for your depressing shit so shut up and be happy."

That really did make Eames laugh, the large smile on his face completely real as tears came to his eyes while he clutched his sides. Robert certainly knew how to lighten the atmosphere.