As I promised, this is the epilogue to A Fractured Dream. It's a lot more like a collection of miscellaenous stories I wanted to include but didn't have time to fit in. And of course, the nature of this epilogue is a lot more light-hearted than the rest of the fanfic (And for once, doesn't end with Arthur and Eames getting separated at the very end). Thank you for sticking to this fic for so long!

So its right, that I suffer tonight
All the pain and all the passion inside
Why my heart can not deny what I'm feeling inside
That makes me long for you
Guilty, beauty, love

I kneel before you, kiss your hand to
Tell you I'm a lucky guy
Look back and know that I can heal your tired heart

An Unfulfilled promise

A young Hispanic girl entered the house, slinging her backpack to the floor, "Mom! I'm home!" She shouted. The girl stepped back, sticking her hands into the mailbox and withdrawing a pile of miscellaneous letters. The girl dropped the pile onto the kitchen table, taking a can of cola before making her way upstairs to study for her exams.

Pilar came out from the laundry room, busy cleaning off the tarps and sashes the daycare used for painting and team games. She sorted through the mail, tossing out useless fliers and irrelevant coupons. She picked up one letter from Frank Campana. Despite no longer needing much financial support, the two became long distance friends and Frank still felt the need to help her out. Her hands fell upon a single letter with 'From Tommy' written upon it.

"Tommy?" She said, opening the letter quickly, withdrawing a cheque from the envelope. She gasped, nearly dropping the cheque as she backed away from the table.

"Mom, I'm hanging out with my friends tonight," Her son came in, backpack in tow, "Can I borrow the car?" Pilar didn't respond, "Mom?" He approached her, eyes scanning over the cheque in her hand, "No freaking way,"

A cheque for five million dollars was in her hand signed by a man called Dominic Cobb. A letter was attached, signed by Tommy, "I promised Manny I'd protect you. I'm sorry I haven't been keeping my promise. Thank you for waiting, Tommy Conlon," Pilar read, "PS. Dominic Cobb is merely a liaison. This is entirely my money!"

"Tommy Conlon?" Her son said, taking the note from her hands, "Isn't he the marine that dad knew?"

You think hit mans are your ally?

"Are they still tailing us?" Arthur asked, back pressed to the wall, "I didn't bring my gun,"

Eames nodded, "Let me handle this, beloved," He steadied himself by the doorframe, pressing one ear against the wall.

The two remained dead silent as heavy footsteps travelled down the floor. Eames shut his eyes, counting at least four men judging from the trampling footsteps. He guaranteed at least two held guns, hearing the safety release twice.

"Search the rooms," The distant shout was heard.

Almost immediately, one armed man stepped into the room. Arthur moved to tackle him but Eames had him pinned already, tackling him over and kicking the gun towards Arthur in one swift movement. He snapped his neck before immediately lunging forward and bringing down the second gunman who came in, just ducking under the gun in his hand. The bullet fired harmlessly into the wall behind him and again at the lamp when Eames picked up the man and slammed him straight into the ground, knocking him out with a powerful strike to the face. With the gun, he killed the third hit man with three bullets straight into his chest. When the final hit man entered, Arthur quickly finished him off with a shot into his head point-blank as he entered the room.

"Bloody hell, Arthur," Eames said, smirking as he closed in on the point man and kissed him, "Have I ever told you how sexy you look with a gun?"

Arthur could feel Eames's heartbeat racing through his chest. His adrenaline levels were maxed out from his tussle, subduing three armed men in mere seconds. Eames nipped at Arthur's neck, always so excited after a curb-stomp fight, "Eames, not now," Arthur said, pocketing the gun, "There could be more hit men out there,"

"Of course, I was just messing around," Eames said with a coy smile. He picked up a gun from another hit man, "Let's go,"

"This is the last time we take team recommendations from someone other than Yusuf,"

"I'm sure we can take the risk,"

"Eames, you're getting off on this, aren't you?"

"Oh, you have no idea,"

Touch my Totem

With the latest attempt on Eames's life, despite the fact that it had been unsuccessful just as the rest had been, the two decided to take a break from dream crime to forge themselves a new identity and more importantly, get married. The two settled in a studio apartment in Philadelphia having sold their apartment in New York after a few hit men had broken in.

"What type of cake do you want?" Eames asked, flipping through a pile of old wedding magazines he had found in a bookstore, "I'm not too fond of cake, really,"

Arthur shrugged, busy crafting on the makeshift desk made of crates and boards, "I never really thought about the cake. I just want the location to be somewhere nostalgic."

"How about the Boardwalk Sparta Stadium?"

Arthur laughed, turning off the soldering iron in his hand, "So much for low profile. Maybe somewhere that looks nice too,"

"Can't think of anywhere that I've seen that looks pretty," Eames chuckled, "Darling, we really haven't done enough together to find a pretty, nostalgic place," He flipped through one magazine aimlessly, "What about a park somewhere in the rural areas?"

Arthur cocked up one eyebrow, "Never expected you to say that,"

"We've been surrounded by technology all our life. It's good to take a break," Eames said.

"True, it'd be a nice change of scenery. Ariadne might know a good place in Paris,"

"And I've always wanted to have sex against a tree,"

"Eames!" Arthur shouted, completely red-faced.

Eames merely broke out into a loud hearty laugh, covering his head when Arthur threw a magazine at him, "Sorry beloved, I couldn't help it," He shimmied forward on the bed, wrapping his arms around Arthur's torso, "But would you want to try it?" He cooed into his ear just the way Arthur always liked it.

Arthur dipped the circular metal chip into cold water sending a spurt of steam rising from the surface. He twisted around to kiss Eames on the cheek, "Maybe,"

Night fell upon them by the time Arthur finished painting his totem. He flipped it between his fingers, the pseudo-plastic chip gliding between them effortlessly, "What do you think?" He asked Eames as he rubbed the chip between his forefinger and thumb, feeling the deliberate, near-invisible ridges he had included.

"Spelling's better than mine," Eames replied with a chuckle as he withdrew a silver die from his pocket, hollowed out and weighted on a sanded corner so it would never land on a flat face, "You want to compare totems?" He rolled the die in his hands, fingers skillfully bouncing the die across his knuckles and between his fingers.

Arthur scoffed, pocketing his poker chip, "Everything sounds like a euphemism when you say it. Let's compare totems. Touch my totem," Arthur said in an exaggerated, arrogant English accent sending Eames into a fit of laughter.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, darling," Eames said, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him down onto the bed.

"How do you think it got there?" Arthur said, playfully smacking at his face when Eames laughed again. He chucked off his dress shirt and slid out from his pants, stretching out over the bed while Eames lay over him, "Goodnight," Arthur said, turning off the lamp.

Eames pouted, eyes narrowing as his hands began sliding down Arthur's stomach, "Already? Really?"

"Yes, really, we're making a few trips tomorrow and we need all our energy to leave the best impression,"

"Fine, fine," The arms retracted, settling around Arthur's shoulders.

Despite protesting earlier, Eames fell asleep almost instantly, face buried into Arthur's hair. Arthur, on the other hand, found himself staring through the thin curtains and into the night sky. His days trapped in a windowless room at the mercy of a monster were cruel ghosts that refused to leave him.

However, with a new totem in hand to guard him from dreams and strong, muscular arms to guard him from monsters, Arthur found a way to starve the ghosts and fall asleep. It had been a long time since he'd slept so peacefully.

Not Coffee

"Eames?" Arthur said, waking up in an empty bed. He panicked at first, fearing that Eames had been captured by some hit men they had failed to shake off. He got to his feet immediately, grabbing a fresh set of clothes from his suit case. He was half way down his shirt before the door opened in a suspiciously slow speed. Arthur grabbed the gun from his suit case and pointed it at the door.

"Darling, are you up?" Eames said, staring straight into the muzzle of a gun, "Arthur, are you still sore about not cleaning up the kitchen after I used it to cook breakfast?"

Arthur sighed, lowering the gun, "Jesus, I thought you were attacked. Leave a note or something next time,"

"I couldn't do that, beloved, this needed to be a surprise," He came forward, gently pushing Arthur onto the bed.

"Eames?" He said as he sat up, eyes locking with a diamond ring in his hand. He was at a loss for words. He had never seen a diamond so big in his life, "What. What," Eames took his hand silently, slipping the diamond ring onto his finger.

"And now its official," Eames said, placing another diamond ring into Arthur's hand.

Slowly, but confidently, Arthur slipped the diamond ring onto Eames's finger, pressing a light kiss to his knuckle before laying back in bed. He held his hand above him, staring directly at the sparkling diamond, "Really Eames, this wasn't necessary. A simple ring would suffice,"

"Oh, you know me. Go big or go home," Eames replied, "Shall I cook breakfast now? Or would you prefer to keep sleeping?"

"Breakfast, but I'm watching you this time,"

Anagnorisis

"How's my clothes?" Eames asked, smoothing out his tweed jacket and striped, pale blue shirt as he drove down a quiet neighbourhood.

"Dreadful, as always,"

"Much appreciated, darling,"

Arthur pointed to the oak tree by the intersection, "Make a right there," He directed, scanning through the map in his Blackberry, "You warned your brother about this, right? I don't want to give him a heart attack thinking that you came back from the dead,"

"I've contacted him. He said he suspected this since they didn't even let him see the body," Eames explained, "Relax, I got this," He pulled up to the sidewalk, parking the car haphazardly up against the curb.

Arthur stepped out of the car, examining the positioning with stern scrutiny, "It's crooked. And you scraped one of the hub caps against the curb,"

"Looks fine to me," Eames replied, heading to the front door, "Coming darling, or will you be re-parking the car?" Despite the look of complete irritation, Arthur relented and followed Eames to the door. He rang the doorbell, taking Arthur's hand into his own when he was getting anxious. He took a deep breath, facing forward but eyes shifting to Arthur, "First time meeting in what, fifteen years? More?"

"I wonder if he'll even recognize you," Arthur said. He barely recognized him after ten years. Rough, broken Tommy Conlon transformed into suave, sexy Thomas Eames. His alluring scent remained the same even after a decade and Arthur still loved it.

The front door opened slowly, with greying hair and thick stubble, Brendan stepped forward. He looked confused at first, trying to register the two men standing before him. The instant the recognition kicked in, Brendan threw the storm door open and pulled Eames into a hug, "Tommy!" He cried, "Holy shit, you really are alive,"

"Brendan," Eames hugged back, patting his brother's firm shoulders. He was obviously still keeping in shape even after all these years, "I missed you." Brendan pulled away for a second, trying to wrap his head around the vocal dissonance, "Ten years in London does this to you," He replied with a smirk.

Brendan turned his attention to Arthur, pondering for a second before finally remembering his name, "Neil, right?"

"Arthur now, but Neil is fine too," Arthur replied.

"Just barely recognized either of you," He said, "Come on in. Tess and I were preparing dinner. The girls are off at college, they live downtown together. Wish they could be here, I told them all about you," He chuckled as he gestured to the picture frames on the mantle, "Emily got into mixed martial arts after hearing about you, got into an English program with an athletic scholarship. Rosie went for art college instead,"

Eames's eyes fell upon the mantle. He had a million questions to ask, a million things to say, but he didn't want Arthur to hear. Reading his thoughts exactly, Arthur stepped away from the two, "Why don't I help out in the kitchen? You two have a lot to catch up on," A smile lit up on Eames's face as Arthur went to the kitchen, greeting Tess and rolling up his sleeves to help with cooking.

Brendan noted the innocent smile on his face, "God, Tommy, I haven't seen you smile like that in thirty years,"

"A lot has changed," Eames replied, still smiling absently. He took a seat on the couch, picking up a photo with Frank Campana, Brendan, and several fighters he had never seen before, "A lot has changed for you too, hasn't it? Ever get your job back?"

Brendan shook his head, reclining on a couch in front of Eames, "Got it back for a bit but after Joe transferred to a new high school, the new principal was nowhere near as forgiving. Got kicked out the instant there were budget cuts,"

"Sorry to hear,"

"Nah, it's been okay. Frank got me a job as a trainer, it's been doing pretty well," Brendan said with a half-smirk, "Kind of funny, right? Hating pop for a decade and I end up doing the same job he did for us. It's like no matter how hard we tried to distance ourselves from him, he's still a part of us,"

"Amen," Eames replied, putting the picture frame down, "What happened to pop?"

Brendan was silent at first. Eames easily figured it out on his own, "Liver cancer, I went to visit him. He passed away thinking that you had been given the death penalty. He said that he wished he could go back in time, fix everything, and then maybe you'd be alive again,"

The Tommy of the past would have shrugged off all his words with cold derision. Eames, softened in heart and mind, fought between anger and sorrow, "It's his fault for everything," His voice was tense as he spoke, "I've learned to forgive but some things can't be fixed with just forgiveness." Deep within Eames, deep within Bane, was a decaying hatred to his father that refused to purge itself from his heart. Life was good now, he finally had all he wanted, yet this rage refused to let go.

A gentle hand at his shoulder soothed his tense muscles which refused to settle. Brendan jostled him out of his thoughts, "Don't think too much on it. I told him I forgave him but you know there's no way we can just let it all go. Anyway," His eyes fell upon the diamond ring on his finger, "Why don't you tell me about you and Neil, uh, Arthur?" Brendan said, diverting the topic.

Eames looked down to the diamond ring, seeing a part of Arthur forever wrapped around his finger. He smiled again, "Arthur, he's everything to me," In that moment, all of his thoughts and experiences with Arthur poured out from him quenching the festering rage of his father. He told Brendan all about dream-working, expecting his brother to watch him disbelievingly. He spoke of their first meeting in ten years, their next meeting, and finally when they came together. Granted, Eames dolled up the story quite a bit, removing the criminal career he had taken on and omitting Bane completely. Everything about Arthur was genuine though, Brendan could sense the truth between his lies and acknowledged it, "He's my hero in so many ways," Eames ended, catching his breath.

"Glad to hear," Brendan said, "Will you be inviting us to the wedding?"

"Always, why wouldn't I?" Eames said, reading his brother's solemn expression. Eames realized his mistake, sitting up from the couch, "Brendan, the last time we had a long talk, I know I said some terrible things to you even though all you wanted to do was make peace. I'm sorry. And if it means anything, I've forgiven you for staying with pop," You're my big brother and you bailed on me! The words he regretted the most stayed forever engraved in his mind, fueling Bane with nothing but maliciousness all those years.

Brendan nodded slowly, reaching forward to embrace his younger brother, "I'm sorry for leaving you all alone. I forgive you too,"

Unlike their father, despite the suffering they had endured and brought upon others, they'd never go back in time to change anything. If they did, Brendan would have never married Tess and Tommy would have never met Neil. Despite the ocean of differences between them now, at their core, they were still brothers and shared more than just blood.

"Brendan, Eames," Arthur's voice broke their train of thought, "Dinner's ready,"

"Right," Eames said, letting go of his brother and almost gliding over to Arthur. He grabbed onto his face gently, pinning Arthur to the wall behind him as he pressed a passionate kiss onto his lips.

Brendan chuckled loudly, pulling Eames back, "Hey, hey, hey, keep it civilized," He released Eames shortly after. The forger merely stepped back into Arthur's embrace and nuzzled his neck lovingly with a mischievous smile. Arthur rolled his eyes while he stroked his head as if he were a puppy. Brendan stepped passed them into the kitchen, helping Tess carry the steaks to the dining table, leaving the two in the hall.

"Eames, are you alright?" Arthur asked, continuing to stroke his head gently before winding his arms around him, feeling the weak sobs against his neck, "There, there. It'll be alright," Arthur murmured as Eames's arms only tightened around him, "I've got you,"

Sweet Kansas

"This place looks exactly the same," Arthur said, scanning the market district. The only inconsistency he spotted was a new supermarket, lively and proud when compared to the crappy shacks beside it. Hutchinson was like a time capsule, preserving all of Neil's hated memories.

"It's been a really long time, love," Eames said, "I quite like it here. There's a bit of an old charm to it. You ever thought about coming back? Maybe for retirement?"

"No way, I hate this town," Arthur said, walking ahead, "It was an awful place," He fell silent when his eyes fell upon the dilapidated playground before them. Eames caught up to him, noticing his expression.

"Is something wrong?"

"Lots of things," Arthur said quietly, approaching the playground. He brushed the metal arch of the swing set slowly, feeling the rust break away under his fingertips. Three of the swings were gone, detached and hanging lifelessly on the ground. One remained, the leftmost one, but Arthur could tell that it was on its last legs.

He sat down upon the merry go round, stumbling when he heard it creak at first but settling down when it stabilized. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the johns pulling up by the side of the park waiting for him.

A second metallic creak broke him out of his trance. Eames sat beside him, staring out over the park, "I remember this place. During that job with Mal, Cobb, and Adrian, this was our starting point,"

"I'll always remember this mess of a playground; it was the first concrete landmark I asked Mal to create. Never once saw a kid in it. Saw plenty of grown men though," Arthur noted. Eames noticed Arthur's voice slowly turning into an accented drawl, "I used to sit here waiting for them," He gestured to the remains of the park bathroom, now nearly destroyed and taped off, "I put my calling card there. Then I'd wait here," A slow, heavy sigh came from him, "Neil McCormick, the whore of Hutchinson,"

"Don't say that,"

"You weren't there, Eames," He locked eyes with Eames, Neil's softness returning to his expression, "I thought I was in control, making those men serve me. It took that night in New York and your kindness to prove to me that I was nothing but a whore for them. A plaything, some cum dumpster for all the johns I fucked," Neil's words were obscene in Arthur's mouth.

"My kindness?" Eames said, "Showing you that love is more than just sex?" Arthur didn't say anything back. He merely fell against Eames's shoulder, closing his eyes and shutting away the playground that plagued his memories. Eames understood what he wanted. He circled an arm around him, shielding him from nightmares and horrors as he always did.

"So much more than just that," Arthur whispered into his embrace.

The two dropped by the new supermarket on their way, picking up a gift basket to bring to Arthur's mother. The house was the same as always, forever trapped in time except for the curtains which Ellen McCormick liked to change often.

"My mother's going to freak out when she sees you," Arthur said, slowly slipping back into his southern accent for his mother's sake, "You were exactly her type back in the day," He straightened out his clothes, no longer a suit but a leather jacket with a simple black shirt and jeans, "European, handsome, pouty lips, long eyelashes, sexy stubble"

"Firstly, I'm not European. Secondly, thank you darling, your lips are quite pouty too," Eames said, cradling the gift basket in his hands, "Ring the doorbell already, the perfume from the gift basket is making me dizzy," With a chuckle, Arthur rang the doorbell. He repeated his action after several minutes of no reply, "I guess she isn't home. Did you call in advance?"

Arthur nodded, checking his Blackberry for any missed calls, "I used to call her around this time every week. She should be here,"

"Oh that's so precious. Calling your mommy every week,"

"Shut up Eames,"

"Neil!" Arthur instantly recognized the voice immediately. He turned around, hugging the aging woman behind him tightly, "My baby, I missed you so much,"

Arthur hugged her tightly, noticing how much thinner his mother had gotten since they last met years ago, "Hi mom," He said, laughing as he let go of her and held her hands. Despite how neglectful his mother had been to him in hindsight, Arthur still couldn't find it in his heart to stop loving his mother, "I've been really busy. Lots of stuff at work,"

"Oh right, working for the government. That's my boy," Ellen said almost in tears of joy. She turned to Eames, one eyebrow cocking upwards with a seductive smirk, "Oh my, who's this handsome fellow?"

"Thomas Eames," Eames said, shaking her hand, "I'm your son's fiancé,"

Ellen nudged at Arthur's arm playfully, "I approve. He's absolutely delicious," Eames laughed bashfully, taking in the insanely rare sight of Arthur's face completely red with embarrassment, "Anyway, let's go inside. I'll make some tea and everything," She went in first, still perky as she walked despite her age.

Eames placed the gift basket onto the counter, nudging Arthur as he shut the door, "You're absolutely precious when you blush,"

"Sh-shut up Eames,"

A purr came from Eames, "Oh, you're even cuter when you stutter,"

A humble, homely dinner later when the sun was just beginning to set, Eames and Arthur left Ellen McCormick's house and took a long path through a dilapidated park. Eames kept an eye on his surroundings, noticing how deserted Hutchinson was especially at night. On their way, Arthur picked up two bouquets, carrying them silently as they walked.

"It's like a ghost town out here," Eames commented, trying to break the silence.

"Mm," Arthur replied without facing him. Eames took the hint and remained quiet for the rest of their journey.

Eames figured it out on his own long before the cemetery came into sight. The first grave they visited was hidden beneath a large tree, branches reaching over as if to protect the little grave. Arthur dropped the bouquet upon the old, moss-covered stone. It was a very old grave, grass had already grown over the dirt.

"Brian Lackey," Eames whispered. The name was familiar.

"I hope he's found happiness," Arthur said, "He deserved it a lot more than I did," His words were interrupted by a dry chuckle, "If I just stayed with you that Christmas, maybe he'd still be alive. Come on, let's go," He pulled on Eames's hand, moving him away from Brian's grave.

The next gravestone was free of moss. The dirt above it was fresh. There was a mix of fresh and dried bouquets covering the grave. Someone was truly dedicated to this grave, leaving flowers at least every week. A chain was wrapped around the top of the gravestone, dangling from it was a hollowed out ring still pristine and fresh.

Eric Preston, the grave said.

"Arthur," Eames said, covering his face, "I'm so sorry. If I had known,"

"Stop," Arthur cut him off, placing the flowers down by the grave, "You didn't know. You were doing a job. I don't blame you. I blame the clients who paid for his death," Arthur knelt by the grave, the ring at eye-level with him, "You'll always be one of my closest friends. I love you. Rest in peace,"

Eames knelt as well, keeping his eyes to the floor in supplication, "I'll protect Arthur. I promise," He said to the grave. He felt a hand on his shoulder, brushing him gently before lifting him to his feet. His hand remained cradled in Eames's as they both left the cemetery, solemn and quiet.

That night, Eames didn't ask anything of Arthur. When they slept in Neil's room, emptied of his old possessions but still nostalgic in its own way, Eames cradled Arthur in his arms, protecting Neil McCormick from all his sadness.

Doppelganger

"You really think the hotel here at Gotham is a good choice?" Arthur said as he scanned the map, laying it over the wheel of their car. Gotham already contained terrible memories for Arthur so for Ariadne to suggest having their wedding at the hotel must've meant that this was one amazing hotel, "How long could it take Eames to get coffee?" Arthur huffed, looking out the window and into the diner they parked beside.

"Officer... John... Blake," Ariadne whispered from the navigator seat.

"What?"

"That cop over there," Ariadne said gesturing to the cop leaning by the wall of the diner, counting tickets in his hand.

Arthur looked over the dashboard, "What about him?" The cop was nothing spectacular. He was lanky, pale, with somewhat Asian features but definitely Caucasian. His hair was short and gelled back making a miniature pompadour on his head. He looked young but his stern expression made him look old. He fitted the Gotham Police uniform well, his shapely, lanky frame clearly highlighted by it, "He looks okay,"

"Arthur, he looks EXACTLY like you,"

"No he doesn't. We look nothing alike," Arthur snapped back, "He looks at least ten years younger than me,"

"Seriously? Just look at him!"

"I am looking!" Arthur replied, jerking back to watch the cop lounging against the wall, "I don't see the resemblance."

"Just wait till Eames gets out here, he'll agree with me," Ariadne said, waving to Eames as he exited the diner holding three coffees and a bag of biscotti.

Eames slid into the backseat, distributing their breakfast as he took a seat, "Hello love, did you miss me?" He said to Arthur, pecking his cheek before taking a bite of his biscotti, "What were you two talking about?

"That cop over there," Ariadne said, gesturing over to 'John Blake' who was now counting bills in his wallet.

Eames examined him for a while, lip pursed as he thought, "He's a handsome bloke. I like his eyes,"

"That's it?" Ariadne said, "Really? Nothing?"

"Why? Is there something about him I should know?"

"He looks exactly like Arthur!"

Eames turned back to the cop, tilting his head to examine him at another angle, "I don't see the resemblance,"

"Told you," Arthur said, taking a sip of coffee before starting his car.

Ariadne slapped a palm to her forehead in exasperation, "Just keep driving," She sighed.

I do, I do, I do

The mind of an architect was truly a miracle. A fancy but ultimately plain wedding hall at Gotham's Ritz-Carlton hotel was transformed into absolute paradise. A fruit salad of peach, red, and beige roses lined the walls flawlessly. On the ground level were sharp white tulips and lilies, arranged like a sea of ivory pouring over the furniture. Amongst the elegance planned by Ariadne, the refreshments table stood out blatantly with, amongst all things, sub sandwiches beside the h'orderves.

"Ariadne, wow, you've outdone yourself," Cobb said as he fixed James's miniature tie.

"What can I say? I guess being an architect pays off," Ariadne replied in the middle of her game of patty cake with Philippa. She lifted her head as Wendy came in, waving her over to sit beside Philippa, "Glad you could make it,"

Wendy smiled, giving James and Philippa a small wave before she sat down, "I wouldn't miss Neil's wedding for the world," Her eyes scanned the place, obviously impressed with the extravagant decor, "Wow, I can't believe this is actually happening,"

"The decor or the fact Arthur's getting married?" Cobb asked, picking up James and sitting him onto the bench.

"Both, really, lovely decor by the way," Wendy said quickly, "If you knew Neil back then, you'd never have even imagined this happening. He was so... broken," She smiled serenely, playing with the clutch in her hand, "I'm glad he's found Eames. He deserves it," Cobb and Ariadne nodded in agreement. Ariadne patted her back gently, soothing her as tears of joy started forming in her eyes.

A man sat down beside Wendy, limbs lazily slung over the seat, "Now's a happy time. Don't cry," All three guests looked at the man, puzzled at who he was. He lifted a hand for a handshake, "Frank Campana. Friend of Eames's brother," Ariadne took the hand cautiously, shaking it with hesitation, "Really? Eames told you nothing about me? What a shame," He laughed loudly, slicking back his poorly gelled hair, "Who would have thought it? Beast Tommy Conlon, now British and getting married,"

"Tell me about it," Wendy said in agreement, "It's almost like a fairy tale," She left for a moment, inviting Ellen McCormick beside her before resuming her chat with Frank.

Cobb looked past the group, seeing Brendan enter with his family. At plain sight, Cobb could recognize that man as Eames's brother. Despite the vastly different appearance, he had the same softness in his eyes combined with a silent ferocity in his expression. A young Hispanic woman came to greet them accompanied by two children. The turnout was small, Cobb expected, but he couldn't help but see a collection of Arthur's and Eames's past in this wedding hall.

"Dominic Cobb, THE Dominic Cobb?" The voice was growly and heavily accented. Cobb turned to the aging man behind him, "Henri, I was Eames's mentor back when he worked for the government," He shook Cobb's hand. His grip was firm, confident, experienced, "You were a legend. Best extractor in the business, that's not an easy title to grab,"

"Thank you, I take it you also left the government,"

Henri shrugged, "They were starting to skimp on the benefits,"

"So I've heard. I left for, less savory reasons," Cobb replied with a dry chuckle, "You were an architect too, correct? I've heard of you before. Would you like to meet our architect? She was in charge of decorating the wedding hall," He led the elder architect to Ariadne, returning to playing with his children while they waited for the wedding to begin.

"Ready for the wedding?" Barsad said to Eames as the man examined his shaven chin in the mirror.

"Bloody hell," Eames gasped, whipping around to see his forger-extractor partner standing in the corner, "When did you even get there?"

Barsad looked to his watch, "Five minutes ago. How long did you plan on admiring yourself in the mirror?" He was utterly deadpan, something Eames really enjoyed about the man, "I'm not sure why you bothered inviting me to the wedding."

Eames shrugged, "You didn't have to come,"

"And miss the free food? I haven't eaten this well in years," Barsad replied, "Bane, or Eames, or whatever you go by now."

"I'm quitting my assassin job," Eames replied, fixing the sparkling cufflinks Arthur had bought him prior to the wedding, "I can't ask for your loyalty anymore since I won't be in the field as much," He took Barsad's hand, shaking it firmly, "This is goodbye, at least as a hit man. Should you need a forger, I'll always be on hand,"

"Likewise," The man said, shaking his hand before leaving the room.

Eames knew the prospect of being an assassin unnerved Arthur just as the prospect of being a street fighter unnerved Neil. He was willing to give it all up, just for Arthur's peace of mind. He returned to the mirror, straightening up his clothes once more. Arthur was a stickler for detail. He wanted to blow the man away with the utter perfection in his outfit.

"I can't believe you made me your minister," Yusuf said.

"Holy shit," Arthur shouted, turning around to see Yusuf leaning by the doorframe, "Doesn't anyone just knock here?" He said, taking a deep breath as he continued slicking back his hair. As soon as he was sufficiently proper, Arthur sat down on the table across from Yusuf, "Why not? You've looked out for Eames throughout his entire career. You acted as a bridge between the two of us when we were split apart. Heck, you dealt with the Bane issue head on. Without you, Eames might've never gotten this far,"

Yusuf shrugged lazily, "Just doing what I thought was right. What about Cobb though? He looked out for you most of your career," He was startled when Arthur placed both his hands on Yusuf's shoulders firmly and stared at him intensely, "Arthur? You're freaking me out,"

"It wasn't the same. I didn't have a monster living inside of myself. If Cobb wasn't there, I could have just found someone else. I had Adrian, Eric, Wendy. Eames had no one but you. And despite the hell you could have gone through, you stuck by him the entire time," He patted Yusuf's shoulder, "Thank you for looking out for him when I couldn't."

Yusuf nodded to him, acknowledging his words, "Oh no, now you're going to make me cry," Yusuf said jokingly, "I'll go prep for my speech. We're starting in ten minutes. Don't be late,"

"I never am," Arthur replied, fixing his suit one last time. He stared at himself through the mirror, seeing Neil, seeing himself. This was happening. He rubbed the metal poker chip in his hand. He wasn't dreaming; thank god for that.

Arthur waited at the altar, taking deep breaths as he made quick glances to Wendy and Ellen. A part of him wished Hal could have made it but he knew his old friend would never forgive Eames. He pushed the thought aside when he saw Eames, all proper in a slick black suit, walking down the hall with his brother acting in his father's role.

The world around them disappeared when Eames reached the altar, standing in front of Arthur with a cleanly shaven face and warm smile on his lovely lips, "What a beautiful bride," Arthur couldn't resist, almost snickering as Yusuf began the speech.

Throughout the customary vows, Eames couldn't keep his hands off Arthur, stroking his shoulder at one point, brushing his knuckles against his cheek, resisting the urge to just tackle Arthur to the ground and kiss him.

"Hey, keep it civilized," Yusuf muttered quickly under his breath, chuckling lightly as he returned to his speech, "Do you, Thomas Eames, take Arthur Riordan as your husband?"

Eames nodded slowly, taking Arthur's hand and gently sliding the ring onto his finger.

"And you, Arthur Riordan, do you take Thomas Eames as your husband?"

"I do," Arthur said, nudging Eames, scolding him for forgetting to say 'I do' before slipping the ring on him.

"By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and husband. Kiss your man, I know you've been wanting to do that since we started,"

Eames planned this since the beginning, reaching forward, with one hand on Arthur's back, and dipping him backwards as he planted a kiss onto his lips, other hand securely on his thigh to prevent him from tipping over. He hadn't expected Arthur to deliver a swift kick to his knee, making him stumble backwards while the crowd gasped at the display. Arthur caught him quickly, sinking down on one knee while he supported Eames with one hand on his lower back and the other right between his shoulders. Eames's own arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging to him while his upper torso remained suspended in the air. He kissed him there, holding onto him as if they were two passionate dancers lost in a lustful tango.

Eames murmured into the kiss, "Saucy little minx,"

"Never again will you say I have no creativity," Despite taking the initiative with their kiss, Arthur let Eames scoop him up into his arms and carry him down the wedding alley while petals and rice were sprinkled upon them.

He lowered Arthur into their limousine, courtesy of Yusuf and his double share from the inception job. He followed soon after, snuggling against Arthur lovingly when the door shut, wrinkling their impeccably prepared suits.

"You forgot to say 'I do'," Arthur commented again, nudging at Eames's head.

"My apologies, beloved," Eames replied, shoving Arthur down onto the seats before laying over him, "I do, I do, I do," He purred in the voice he knew drove Arthur crazy with lust. With every kiss he lay upon Arthur's body, he continued to purr the forgotten statement into his flesh. When his lips met the sensitive flesh of his hip, Arthur whined in ecstasy, "That's a lovely, lovely voice," Eames purred again.

Arthur laughed weakly, covering his face as he was flushed red by Eames's touch, "Save it for the honeymoon," Arthur said, watching as Eames crept back upwards towards his face, "We still have a dinner to go to,"

"As you wish, darling," Eames said, taking a seat beside Arthur as he helped him up, "So, are we going with 'Eames' or 'Riordan'? Arthur Eames has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Arthur brushed a strand of Eames's hair back, fingers ghosting over his flesh, "I was actually thinking about something else..."

The man handed over his passport, looking over his shoulder to see his husband doing the same. He shot his lover a lusty wink, watching as the man rolled his eyes playfully.

"Welcome back, Mr. Conlon," The attendant said, handing the passport back to the man who was smiling wildly as his lover responded to his new alias, also taking back his passport.

"Thank you," He said, taking his lover's hand and walking off to luggage pickup together.

They left the airport. They entered the city. Never again would Arthur Conlon be separated from Eames Conlon in New York City.

What a crime, such a wonderful crime
That God would choose to make such lips as mine
It was wrong but all the same, I invited and you came
Into this dream with me
So my price is to gaze in your eyes
And to feel more love than I can contain

So I say that the price I must pay
Is to offer up my heart forever
Just don't take away your touch 'cause it means so much
To feel your hand in mind
Guilty, Beauty, Heart

"Guilty, Beauty, Love" - Vic Mignogna

Everyone have a good day :)