A.N: So a couple of days ago I flipped a coin to see if I'd do a separate chapter for an epilogue, then I accidentally dropped a jar of mayonnaise on my foot and decided I didn't care if I ended on 30 chapters or 29. And then I finished this chapter and said to myself, 'Nah, do an epilogue anyway. This is a nice ending, but there's one more thing to add.' I apologize for errors that have slipped my notice because its so late (I'm sure they're stupid and I'll kick myself for them when I have time to reread again. But that's fine).

Happy Fourth of July!

The first thing that Arthur became aware of when he woke was the silence. He spared a half second to wonder if he'd gone deaf. It hadn't happened before but he wasn't sure who had been called in as the chemist; the side effects of one chemist's mix when compared to another could be very different.

He had a headache, could tell that he'd been roughed up and most likely sucker punched to keep quiet or keep still after being captured. His back hurt from where the barbs from the taser gun dug into his skin. Yeah, that still hurt like hell. He doubted his seat had helped.

Still in the chair, Arthur arched his back ever so slightly, hearing the pops his spine made as the pressure was relieved. He opened his eyes and looked over at Yvette, Peter, and that forger he'd never bothered to ask the name of, who were zip tied to their lounge chairs, looking at him in either fear or hate. Fear was winning out.

"You asses couldn't have given me a pillow for my back?"

The forger flinched at Arthur's tone, watching his every move as the point man calmly removed the needle from his arm, dropping the tubing to the floor. Arthur stood, managing to look frightening even if he'd been knocked around, electrocuted, and dropped down to Limbo. And because Arthur was the best he could still pull off being frightening in sweats.

"We didn't think of that, I'm sorry!"

"What are you doing apologizing to him?" Yvette hissed at the forger. "We don't have to apologize for anything!"

"Yes," Eames growled, moving to stand at Arthur's side after Cobb detached the needle from the author's arm and stepped out of the way. "You do. All of you." Eames glanced over at Becky, the chemist, who still huddled close with Ariadne. "But maybe not you. I'll confer with Arthur and my PA and may change my mind after."

Becky nodded shortly and didn't say anything else.

Yvette was still glaring at them, all of them. She finally settled on Arthur and spat, "So what if you've crawled back up from Limbo, Arthur? It doesn't-"

Arthur cut her off, clenching his fists and saying, "I don't care." Arthur didn't leave her a second to take a breath and rant at him, blaming him for things he didn't do or things she believed he'd taken from her. "I'm not wasting my time with you. You tried and you failed. We can move on and never have to see each other again. Dreamshare is a big business, and if I wanted to I could arrange it so you're blacklisted. No point man or extractor would even think of working with you again just because I said so!" But Arthur shook his head. "You're lucky I'm not gonna do that. From here on out, whatever happens to you is your own fault. If a job fails, it's on you."

Before Yvette could say anything in response, Peter was hushing her, leaning as far forwards as he could in the lounge chair he was bound to, nodding to Arthur.

"Yes, we promise!"

"You don't speak for me," Yvette said, gritting her teeth, fighting against some strong emotion as she looked from Peter to Arthur. "You don't know how hard it is- you don't! Not all of us can do an inception! Not all of us can have our names and careers made like that! And not all of us can have some guy write it so we succeed! "

Arthur didn't even share a look with Eames as he heard those words. There was a moment where Arthur waited for that knee-jerk reaction to occur; for that aching moment where he questioned his reality, his existence, and his worth. But it didn't come.

Strengthened by that lack of fear or worry, Arthur gave Yvette more than she deserved. He showed her pity.

"There's your mistake, Yvette. It's easy for you to say that the only reason I've succeeded is due to my being a character in a story. It's easy for you to look at my life and my work and think that it took nothing but Eames's writing to make it happen. What you don't understand is that I had my own motivations aside from playing a part I didn't know I'd been given. I've always wanted to be the best at what I've done, but I've also wanted to help Cobb get back to his children. It was more important to see Cobb go back to his children than to become the best point man in dreamshare." Arthur shook his head, noticing the expression on Yvette's face hadn't changed. He wasn't reaching her.

"But when you get down to it, it doesn't matter if you believe a word I say. I get to do what I want now. I get to do whatever makes me happy."

Now Arthur looked at Eames, not surprised that Eames had been listening to every word.

"Ever hear that the truth is stranger than fiction?"

Eames nodded quickly. "Mark Twain is credited with that, I think."

"It's because fiction is obliged to stick to possibility while the truth doesn't. Sure, you wrote about a reality that has PASIV technology and industrial espionage- all things that are possible within this reality have happened. People lived, died, were extracted from or incepted, or fell into Limbo. But here we are at the end of the story. I know what will make me happy. I know that you can give it to me, too."

The others were silent; the extraction team didn't whimper, beg, or curse, Cobb waited to see what would happen next, Ariadne found herself biting her fist to keep from saying a word and interrupting the moment.

Eames slipped one hand into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive.

He showed it to Arthur, swallowing down whatever silly thing he was going to say, reaching for Arthur's hand and squeezing tight, while holding the flash drive in his free hand. Eames looked at Arthur and said, "Hold on nice and tight, darling. I don't know what's going to happen next."

Then the author dropped the sacred drive, the one that had the entire, as yet unfinished, draft saved to it. It hit the hard floor, bouncing once but not traveling farther than an inch or two. Yvette's eyes bugged out when she saw what Eames was going to do.

She yelled but it didn't stop Eames from smashing the drive beneath his shoe, putting it out like a cigarette, ensuring that it wouldn't survive the damage. That any and all information saved to it would be destroyed. Lost forever.

Knuckles gone white from how tightly they were holding onto each other, Arthur was the first to look down at the mess at their feet. When he saw the broken flash drive, he let go of the breath he hadn't been sure he was holding, laughing a little as he did. He looked up at Eames, noticing a similar look of amazement on his face.

"You didn't have to break it," Arthur softly said, not letting go of Eames's hand.

Eames shook his head. "No. I want you to be free. Finishing the story is one thing. Packaging it up and letting it get published is another. I want you to have your life, your successes, your dreams, and your happy ending. I can't take those things from you, darling. You can thank Cobb for reminding me."

How Arthur had managed to get so close to Eames without thinking about it amazed the point man; there he was, practically wrapped around the man, arms already reaching around the author's neck, tugging him in closer. With greatly diminished space between them, Arthur turned his head and looked over at a slightly flustered looking Cobb. The former extractor appeared to be looking anywhere but at Arthur, looking over the point man's head possibly studying the shade of paint on the wall of the warehouse.

"Is that true, Dom?"

"If I say yes are you going to do something I'd regret?"

Ariadne, who had stopped biting her fist, shot Cobb a glare that could have peeled the paint the extractor was so keen on examining.

"Listen, Cobb- you might not get this because you're not the PA who has been working her butt off trying to get this story finished for publication, which is now not going to happen at all, so goodbye paycheck, but I'm in it for the ending! So just say yes so they can get on with it!"

So Cobb finally said yes and Ariadne waited expectantly. Arthur returned his attention to Eames, who was waiting but still smiling.

"Darling," the author began to say. "I hope you don't think I'm being forward, but once we get back to your place, I do have a pass to give you. It's very official looking. It can be laminated so you could carry it in your wallet."

"Eames?"

"Or we can frame it!"

"Eames!"

Completely aware of how he was trying Arthur's patience, Eames's smile widened a fraction. "Yes?"

Arthur was smiling, fond and a little amused.

"Shut up," the point man said softly before leaning in and kissing his author, letting his happy ending enfold him, the possibilities of what his life could be stretching out and out. He could do anything, whatever he wanted was in reach. Arthur wouldn't check his totem right now- the weight of Eames pressing against him; the answering touch of lips, tongue, and grasping fingers were enough of a totem for Arthur now.