December 3, 2013

"Cobb!"

Eames stormed into the living room, barely avoiding James with a mumbled, "Sorry," before his glare fixed on the other man. "You and I need to have words, apparently."

Phillipa gently tugged her brother into the other room.

"Yes, what is it, Eames?" Cobb asked, looking up from the couch to regard the incensed conman warily.

"You know very well what it is, Cobb," Eames spat. "Arthur's door is locked." The actual lock itself wasn't that much of a problem. Eames could pick almost any kind of lock in the world, and given an hour or so, anything new that you threw at him. But just the fact that Cobb had had the nerve to lock Arthur's door—

"Eames, I did it for your own good."

"Don't give me that," Eames snapped. "My own good? I'm a grown man. I can look after myself! I don't need you to baby-sit me, like I'm one of your kids."

"Listen to me—I'm not trying to baby-sit. I just think it might be better for you to spend a little time away from Arthur. You're just torturing yourself!"

But Eames was no longer listening. Instead he was heading down the hall to his room for his lockpicking kit, leaving Cobb behind.

Cobb gritted his teeth and slammed his hand down on the coffee table, rising. "Dammit Eames, I said listen! I know how much Arthur means to you—I do! But this isn't helping anything! He's not even hearing you! Do you understand that?"

Eames spun on his heel and stalked back to Cobb, expression so dark that for a horrible second, Cobb thought he'd pushed it too far, that Eames was going to shoot him.

"No, Dominic Cobb, you listen to me." Even though he stood at least two feet away, Eames's anger was almost smothering Cobb. "How do you know he isn't hearing me? How do you know it's not helping? Mal still fights you; I know she does. But Arthur doesn't do anything. Nothing, Cobb, do you hear me? I talk to him because—"

For one horrible second, his voice broke.

"Because I need to know he's still in there."

Cobb sighed, sadly. "Eames…"

"No. Cobb, just listen. I need to know that when Yusuf makes the cure, I'll have something to bring back. Someone. I need to keep things as normal as I can, because what happens if he gets cured and the amnesiac doesn't work? Or, being as smart as he is, Arthur figures out what happened. Cobb, what am I supposed to do if he asks me to—to shoot him? What am I supposed to say?"

His eyes were lost when they met Cobb's.

"What am I supposed to say?" he asked again. "No? Do I make him live with the memories of eating someone else? Or the knowledge that he did? Face it, Cobb. There's nothing in the world strong enough to block this past month from anyone's head. It'd be all over the news, anyway, once things clear up. Once the world's back together again."

And Cobb wished there was something he could say. Anything. But hell, wasn't Eames right? The same went for Mal, didn't it? How could this—how could anything possibly get better?

"Are we being selfish?"

Both men froze. They looked over, startled, to find James standing in the doorway with his hands fisted nervously in the hem of his shirt. His eyes were directed toward the ground, but even so Cobb and Eames could see them shining with unshed tears.

"James," Cobb began, but Phillipa cut him off by dashing into the room.

"I'm sorry, Dad! Sorry! I tried to keep him away—James, why don't you ever listen?—but I should have watched him better. I'm sorry, Uncle Eames!"

"No, no," said Eames, taking a step towards James. "What did you say?"

"Maman always says it's selfish to want things for yourself when other people don't want them too," the little boy said. "I—I promise I wasn't listening or anything, since Phil said I shouldn't, but—but—" James bit his lip. "But you said you were worried about Uncle Arthur, right?"

Eames glanced over at Cobb, his face indifferent, but his eyes shining with conflict.

"I—yes. I'm very worried about Uncle Arthur," Eames admitted, wondering exactly how much James had heard. He hoped he'd missed the part about the shooting—

"Because you think Uncle Arthur might be sad when he's better?"

"Yeah, that's what he said," Phillipa confirmed after Eames's long silence.

"So, isn't it selfish to want him back?" James's earnest eyes peered up at Eames. Then, suddenly, they filled with tears. "Maman always says that it's bad to be selfish. But I want her back, too!"

Then Phillipa was crying as well.

"Oh kids," Cobb said. "Come here. Come here." He held out his arms to them, and they ran to him, burying tear-streaked faces into his shirt, loud sobs muffled. From the doorway, Miles and Marie watched with sad eyes, hands clasped.

Eames took a step back from the mess he felt he'd caused, fighting off the tightness of his throat and the stinging of his eyes.

He turned and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Cobb asked, fighting the flash of déjà vu that came with seeing Eames stop, hand on the doorknob.

"Out," the conman said, like before. "I can't stay here anymore. Not right now. I—I need air, or something. I need to shoot something. But I bloody well can't. The only things to shoot for miles are the infected and what's the goddamn point of making a cure if there's no one around to need it?"

It was easier to let his despair melt into anger.

"I have my mobile. Let me know if anything changes."

He left Cobb there, with his children still sniffling quietly and his in-laws silently watching, closing the door firmly.

-oooxooo-

They gathered.

Slowly, they came from all around. Maybe it was the lights that drew them, slipping out from under the gaps in the curtains or between the cracks of the shutters, or maybe it was the warmth of the hope that flickered tentatively just inside the door. Maybe it was the smell of blood, the wounded hearts that beat within the walls and lashed out at each other due to fear and desperation. Maybe it was the knowledge that two of their own were inside.

Whatever it was, it drew them nearer and nearer.

They prowled just beyond the glow of the door, when it opened. They crouched in the shadows of the hedges, in the dark of the uncertain gazes that penetrated the deep of the night from behind the glass, tired and jittery while the rest of the house slept. What was more, they circled through heads and hearts and dreams, lurking behind closed eyelids like the faintest whisper of smoke from the last cigarette in the pack, the one that leaves behind nothing but a bitter mouth and the dull anxiety of, This is it. They lingered like an unpleasant odor, a bad aftertaste, the slight chill from the nightmare that isn't quite remembered in the small hours of the morning before the sun has broken from the hill.

Wrapped up in a blanket of unstable safety, the walls and doors and windows worked to keep everything at bay. For now, they held back the physical but were unable to block the sighs of the imagination from growing and betraying those whose fingers twitched and shoulders tensed at every sound from beyond the shelter of the house. No one left anymore, no one dared to venture out alone beyond the fence. It had been all right to do so before, but no longer.

Because just outside the doors, they gathered.

Just outside the doors, they waited.

-oooxooo-

December 7, 2013

"Good morning, Arthur," he said, settling into the chair like he always did. "I'm sorry I'm late today. I had a bit of a tiff with Cobb again. He doesn't want me to see you anymore."

Arthur didn't respond, lying quietly on the bed with his face turned away from Eames disinterestedly.

"This isn't the first time, either. I just—You are listening to me, aren't you, love?"

Finally, he had broken.

"Can you hear me?"

-o-

May 16, 2012: Dhaka, Bangladesh

"Arthur! For the love of God, can you hear me?"

Eames flings himself to the edge of the roof, no longer caring about cover, no longer caring about anything but Arthur.

Arthur, the stupid bastard who has just let go of the window ledge to fall thirty-seven stories to his death.

Arthur, the stupid bastard who is about six stories down, hanging onto a banner attached to the side of the building that proclaims: "Grand reopening!" in cheerfully colored Bengali.

"I can hear you!" Arthur shouts back, but all Eames gets in reply is the motion of his mouth, as the hacker's words are snatched away by the wind.

"You're crazy! What the hell are you going to do now?" Eames demands, even though he knows it is very likely that Arthur has no idea what he is saying. Then, a sudden shower of bullets forces him to roll back against the outcropping that makes up his cover and he loses sight of Arthur.

A minute or two later, when he looks back, Arthur is no longer there.

"Fuck, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ." His eyes search vainly for Arthur's falling body, waiting for the inevitable impact with the street below. But if there is an impact, he never sees it. Because he can't see Arthur.

He makes it back to his cover just in time to avoid another volley of bullets.

He reloads his gun and manages to shoot two of the men, all the time worrying about Arthur. Arthur, who is no longer where Eames left him. Arthur, who is now dead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a flash of motion; one of the final three men on the rooftop with him has leveled his gun at Eames. There isn't enough time for him to get out of the way. But he doesn't need to.

A second later, the man jerks in a way quite consistent with sudden blunt-force trauma, knees collapsing to reveal Arthur standing behind him. He has removed his tie and wound it around his shoulder, making an impromptu bandage for his still-bleeding wound. His other hand is holding his Glock, raised above the enemy's head.

"Darling," he hears himself breathe—once, in relief—and then he turns his focus back to the remaining two men. They are confused from Arthur's sudden appearance, sure they've killed him already, and in a matter of minutes, Eames takes them down.

When he is sure it's just the two of them left, Eames rises and almost runs over to Arthur.

"Don't you ever do something stupid like that again," Eames hisses, before pulling Arthur close and laying his cheek against the side of the hacker's head. "You nearly scared me to death. Never again."

And Arthur laughs and ducks his head to kiss Eames's neck. "I'm sorry. I saw an opportunity and I took it. There was an open window. I can't promise that I won't do anything that stupid ever again, but I'll give it my best shot if you promise to stop being such a worrywart."

"Such a—" Eames begins, flabbergasted. He opens and closes his mouth a few times without making a sound, and apparently it's hilarious because Arthur simply cannot stop laughing. "…Darling," Eames says, cautiously, I think you lost your brain somewhere in the fall, hmm? You going to make it?" He's only teasing, really, but he runs his hands lightly over Arthur, just to make sure.

Arthur nods, gasping, and swipes the back of his hand across his eyes to wipe away the tears. "I'm…fine. Just a little shaken, that's all. I'll be fine in a minute." He lets out another incredulous breath of laughter. "Fuck, I can't believe that actually worked."

"You want me to stop worrying about you, yet you go and say things like that when I can still hear you," Eames mutters to himself. He wraps an arm around Arthur's neck and pulls him into a brief hug. "You nutter. Now, let's get you patched up, all right? I know someone a few streets over who owes me a favor."

-o-

"I love you, Arthur," Eames sighed, letting his hand slip from the infected's. He stood, wondering for the first time if maybe Cobb was right. Maybe all of this was pointless. Maybe everything now was just a waiting game until the infected broke in, until they ran out of food, until it no longer mattered if there was a cure or not because there would be no one to left to administer it.

The doorknob was cold in his hand as he turned it, heavy like the thoughts that distracted his attention.

"Darling."

Eames froze, halfway out the door. "What?" he whispered, turning around to face the man on the bed. He met Arthur's eyes for the first time in the twelve days they had been in the same house. "What did you say?"

"Darling," the infected repeated. He twisted a little against his bonds and made a displeased face before settling down again.

"Oh, Arthur," Eames breathed, wishing he could lay his hand on the other man's cheek. Instead, he walked back to the bed and took Arthur's hand again. "I won't go, if you don't want me to."

This time Arthur said nothing, only wiggling his hands around so he could wrap his fingers around Eames's.

Eames stayed there all night.

-oooxooo-

December 11, 2013

"I have good news," Yusuf said from the doorway, addressing everyone seated at the kitchen table. "The vaccine is finished. It just needs to be tested on one of the living infected."

"That's fantastic," Cobb laughed, eyes lighting up. "Did you hear that, kids?"

"Yay! Uncle Arthur and Maman will be better again soon!"

Eames just smiled and sipped his coffee from where he leaned against the counter, all his thoughts on Arthur, and muttered, "About time."

-oooxooo-

They closed in.

Every now and again, there was a flash of motion out of the corner of an eye, the uncanny shiver-inducing feeling of an unblinking gaze on the back of a neck, the quiet hiss of breath on the windows leaving circles of fear behind. They crept into the silent spaces in the chill of the air, seeping into bones and staying there. They left footprints in the mulch in the flowerbeds just inside the fence, misshapen from missing toes or crushed arches, smeared wet with blood.

Every day they moved closer.

Every day they waited.

-oooxooo-

December 28, 2013

"Hello?"

"Ari, pet, it's Eames. I have fantastic news. All of Yusuf's tests so far have gone smoothly, and we should be able to give Arthur the vaccine in a day or two."

"That's—that's wonderful! Oh my God!"

Eames could almost hear her ridiculously large grin and felt an answering smile stretch across his face. It dimmed as he gently nudged the curtain open, a thin sliver of light snaking across the yard into the never-ending wasteland of the world. Sometimes he would catch glimpses of them, the infected, sneaking just beyond the reflection of his anxious eyes, every day slipping closer than before.

He tried to keep his voice light. "The good thing is that Mal's settled down. She's stopped staring at Cobb like she's going to eat him, though from what I can tell, the look was pretty standard since their wedding day." He paused as Ariadne laughed, letting the curtain fall shut and trying to allow the sound lift some of the weight off his shoulders. "And Arthur spoke, for the first time since you left."

"I'm so glad. This is fantastic. I'll tell Rob, and he'll get Saito, and we'll come pick up some of the vaccine. How much has Yusuf made? Or, alternatively he could give us the formula for Saito's labs to start re-creating. It's a bit too long for a text message, though. Having no internet is a major inconvenience." There was still an underlying current of excitement in her voice. "So we'll come to you, okay? Right away!" She almost hung up then, her voice getting softer as she pulled her phone away before she'd even finished speaking.

"Ariadne, I'm not sure if you coming back is the best idea," Eames began quickly, hoping he hadn't missed her. "Wait…you, Fischer, and Saito? Where's Nash? And Mark? Aren't they there with you?"

It was so silent on the other end of the line that Eames was sure he'd missed her, that Ariadne had already hung up. But then she sighed, a small, soft sound that spoke of a world of sadness.

"No. Nash left us about four days ago. He said he couldn't handle it anymore, and just ran off. I'm not sure where he went, or if he's even still alive. I'm sorry." She sighed. "I should have tried harder to stop him."

"It's not your fault. Nash has always been a bit of a pill; since even before I knew him, if Arthur's file is anything to go by," Eames said. "I'm sure we'll find him, well and intact, after everything's settled down." In truth, Eames couldn't have cared less what had happened to Nash. He just didn't think it was fair to let Ariadne carry the guilt for the choices of the living as well as her pain and sorrow for the dead.

"You really think so? That's a relief. You have no idea how glad I am to hear that."

"I really think so," he lied. "But what about Mark? Did he leave as well?"

Ariadne sounded less upset, which Eames took as a good sign. "No, he's still with us. He and his family met up with one of their paranoid relatives and found a bunker to hide in. Super-safe, too. He had his wife and kids stay there for protection while he came with us. Rob almost made the mistake of asking them if I could stay too, but then wised up and shut his mouth."

"I'll just bet he did," Eames muttered, teasing her good-naturedly. He tensed as a branch snapped outside, his nerves on edge and his fingers flicking the curtain back open to try and find the source of the noise.

Down the hall, Mal laughed.

"Listen, Ariadne," he said a little urgently as the voices of Phillipa and James drew nearer, echoing down from the second floor as they raced each other for the honor of talking to Ariadne first. "We can find some way to send the formula to you. It would be a very unwise decision to come back here. The infected have started to gather around the house, and I'm quite honestly begging you to make sure that if you come, you get here before the sun sets. I don't know how many are out there, but the number gets larger every day."

"You've seen them outside?" Ariadne gasped, worried. "Have the kids? What are you going to do?"

Eames lowered his voice and moved into the kitchen, trying to stall for as long as possible before James and Phillipa would be able to hear him. "No, I don't think the kids have seen them yet. We try to keep them away from the windows, quite honestly. But they can feel it. We're all antsy as hell, and the kids are noticing. We can only smile and tell them things are all right for so long."

He sighed.

"The thing is, Ari, we haven't seen any zombies. Only glimpses now and again, movement here and there when we're not paying attention. We have no idea how many are out there, and consequently no fucking idea what we're going to do. We can't leave, it's too dangerous. But we can't stay here, either."

"Don't worry," Ariadne said, her voice thick with conviction and just a little bit of hope on the borderline of desperation, "we're coming to get you, whether you think it's a bad idea or not. If we can just get you back to New York, we can get to the bunker and everyone will be safe. Mark's already told us that he's not going to leave anyone behind, and that there's no way we're leaving him out of this 'adventure.' Just stay safe. We'll be there soon, and everything will be okay."

Eames was about to say something, something about how now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure it was a good idea for them to come at all, but just then James and Phillipa tore into the kitchen screaming, "Found him! Found him!" and "I won! I get to talk to Miss Ari first!"

Plastering a smile on his face that Phillipa eyed suspiciously, Eames forced a chuckle and said, "I'm going to hand you off you the kids now, since they want to talk to you. After that, confirm your visit with Cobb, okay?"

"Eames, everything will be okay," Ariadne insisted once more, before sighing. "All right. Hey, say hi to Arthur for me, won't you? Tell him I'll see him soon."

"I can do that," he said noncommittally, eyes narrowing as a shadow flashed through the dim square of light on the floor.

-oooxooo-

December 30, 2013: 4:10 pm, Bonanza, Colorado

The sound of the car pulling up outside had everyone in a flurry of motion. Eames took the window by the door, Yusuf watched from the dining room, and Cobb and Miles stood guard from the windows upstairs. Everyone's guns were trained on the driveway, ready to shoot anything that appeared even slightly hostile.

Ariadne was the first through the door, her head ducked slightly in fear until she was safe inside. Next came Saito, Mark, and then Fischer, all looking a bit more worn, a bit more tired, but still very much alive. Ariadne opened her arms to receive James and Phillipa, and they nearly bowled her over in their joy that she was still okay.

For the first time in a long time, everything seemed a little brighter.

"How was the drive?" Cobb questioned casually, his eyes tracking Ariadne and the kids' process into the living room, and only relaxing once they were out of sight. "Run into any…trouble?"

Fischer shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. To tell the truth, that is what worries me. There's proof all around that there are still zombies here—hell, you have their footprints in your garden!—but we didn't see a single one on the way here."

"Well that's just lovely," Eames muttered. "Fantastic. Can we get the hell out of here, now?"

"Once Arthur and Mal have been cured, we will," Cobb assured. "Tomorrow morning. We'll pack tonight and get everything ready for tomorrow's escape. Okay?"

Eames sighed, frustrated. "Fine. On we go, then, assuming we're still around tomorrow."

"Eames—" Cobb said warningly, but Eames was already shaking his head.

"Apologies. I'm just…a little tense, I suppose you could say. There are so many ways that things could go spectacularly wrong, and in every case I'd be powerless to do anything. So, sorry if I'm a little tetchy."

"How about some tea, then, hmm?" Yusuf asked, appearing from the kitchen with a tray of mugs. He motioned for everyone to move into the den to sit. "So, I hate to ask, but…how did the search go?" He began handing out the tea, the lingeringly homey feeling of the action starting to ward off the clinging chill of the December day.

Gratefully, Fischer accepted his and sipped it before answering. "A lot better than I'd hoped, actually. All but two of the people I wanted to find were alive. Healthy. They're sticking together, holed up safely in Massachusetts."

"I'm glad," Cobb said, sincerely.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that all of this will be ending soon," Mark announced, his smile unshakable. "The cure's done? Really finished?"

"Yes, as much as it will ever be," Yusuf said, with a kind of unsure shrug. "All of my tests have yielded positive results." He sighed. "The zombie I tested it on showed no adverse reaction to it, though he…well, he died from injuries that he had sustained prior to being vaccinated. However, both Arthur and Mal are completely healthy, so they should have no problems."

And though Eames's hands tightened around the beer Yusuf had brought him, Saito raised his mug and said, "Well, that's the best we can hope for. A toast, then. To Yusuf and the future."

"Here, here," Eames said, grinning with more confidence then he felt. "To the future."

-oooxooo-

December 31, 2013: 7:11 am, Bonanza, Colorado

The dawn found Eames awake and already in Arthur's room, sitting by the bed and running his fingers lightly over Arthur's hands, whispering things quietly to him while Arthur just watched, watched and said nothing.

"Yusuf's finished the cure, darling. Today is the day: you're going to be better soon. And then you're going to have to deal with Ariadne throwing you a bridal shower. I can't wait to see what she comes up with. But what do women usually do at bridal showers?"

Arthur said nothing, seeming content to just look at Eames through half-lidded, sleepy eyes.

"Oh, love," Eames sighed, his hand dropping from Arthur's. "This has to work. It just has to. I'm a wreck without you."

"Darling," Arthur said, as if he agreed.

-ooo-

10:00 am, Bonanza, Colorado

Cobb came in with a plate of toast for Eames and some water for Arthur.

"Yusuf says we shouldn't give them anything to eat before they take the vaccine. He doesn't know how well their repaired body chemistry will take raw meat."

"Well, I'm not complaining," Eames said, taking the toast with a distracted smile, eating a few bites just to keep his mouth busy, to keep him from saying things like Should we really do this? and What if something goes wrong? and I'm afraid. He couldn't say any of these things. He didn't have to. He saw them reflected in Cobb's eyes when he looked up, the dim light of the sun through the curtains casting long shadows across their faces.

Instead, Eames said, "How's Mal?"

"She's fine," Cobb replied. "She's settled down, though, like she knows something's going to happen."

"I see."

There was silence for a long time, broken only by the small sounds of Arthur shifting against the bindings. He had lost interest in the conversation, it seemed, when Cobb had entered the room.

Suddenly, he flinched away and growled, and Cobb stumbled back a step in surprise.

"What?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

Eames was already shaking his head. "No, you just got too close. He's very particular about personal space." He tried to make it light, but it fell flat and was swallowed up in the stifling anxiety that permeated the room.

"You should come out to the kitchen and sit with everyone," Cobb said. "Come on. It's better than being in here. There's nothing more you can do."

"If it's all the same, I think I'd rather stay," Eames quietly argued, but Cobb was shaking his head.

"It's best that you come out. Yusuf's going to talk a little about what we should expect."

Eames sighed. "Fine. Just give me a minute, would you?"

Cobb nodded, and left silently, closing the door.

"Arthur," Eames began, laying his hand over Arthur's heart, "everything will be fine. You'll see. And then, like I promised, we'll get married. Sound good?"

Eames rose from his chair and crossed the million miles to the door. When he reached it, he paused in the doorframe, glancing back over his shoulder.

"I'll be right back."

Arthur's blank eyes followed him as he started to close the door, head falling to one side to better observe him.

"Darling," he said when the door was an inch from shut. "Je t'aime."

And Eames froze, and shut his eyes, and whispered, "I love you, too."

Then he closed the door.

-ooo-

It was time.

Though the sun still filtered down weakly, they crept along the lawn like rats through crumbling walls. They came in waves, bare feet dragging through the thin layer of snow, chased across the hills by trails of bloody footprints, an army stumbling and shambling towards the last battle before victory.

No more waiting.

-ooo-

11:30 am, Bonanza, Colorado

"Remember what I said," Yusuf reminded, casting Eames a look over his shoulder. "Like the change, the vaccine will make different people react in different ways."

"Yes, I know, Yusuf. This is the third time you've told me."

"I just want you keep it in mind," the chemist said, carefully filling the syringe with the correct dosage of the vaccine. "I won't tell you again, though, if it's annoying you."

"It is," the conman said, mouth thinning rebelliously against Cobb's pleading stare, the one that was trying to compel him to behave. And well, maybe, he was a little nervous. "Why, do you think something is going to go wrong?"

"No, I think everything will go fine, just like it did with Mal."

Mal had received the cure first, but not out of any favoritism. Cobb had simply wanted to get it done while the kids were distracted by helping Ariadne draw practice cityscapes. They were only ever focused on one thing for so long, especially today. Currently, Mal was lying unconscious on her bed, letting the vaccine do its work. She had taken it quietly, only snapping at Yusuf once or twice, a small flash of victory in her eyes.

Now, Eames waited anxiously for the vaccine to be administered to the ever silent Arthur, who was staring at the wall in the disinterested way he did when there were people in the room who were not Eames.

"Darling, Yusuf's going to give you the cure now, all right?" the Brit said, even though he was never sure whether Arthur was listening anymore. "Arthur?"

The infected let out a sigh that sounded very dangerously close to a hiss and rolled onto his side as much as his bonds would allow, eyes boring accusingly into Eames's. I know what you did to Mal, they seemed to say. And now you're doing it to me.

"It's not like that, Arthur," Eames sighed, frustrated, ignoring the odd look that Cobb sent in his direction. "This will help you. I promise."

"Now," Yusuf began, carefully flicking the syringe, "I'm going to inject this into his arm. It should begin to work shortly, provided that he doesn't fight it. What he'll need to do is rest until about half an hour after I've injected him. That part's pretty strict, though, since his body chemistry will be rewriting itself and he'll be unstable. After that, I'd give him another half an hour to adjust, and then he'll be okay to travel. I would suggest sedating him, though." Yusuf glanced up and smiled.

He squirted a small bit of liquid out of the tip of the needle."I've also created hollow projectiles—bullets if you will, but not quite—filled with the vaccine. They've been modified for standard 9mm rounds, for whatever gun that can take them. The healing powers of the zombies should close the bullet would before it kills the person being transformed. But I'd still aim carefully." He finished his preparations and turned to smile at Arthur. "This won't hurt a bit."

But Arthur still growled when Yusuf stepped closer.

Yusuf hesitated, and Arthur's eyes narrowed further. "Eames, if you could…" the chemist sighed.

"Yeah, give it to me," Eames said, stepping forward to accept the syringe from him. "In the arm?"

"Yeah, that should do fine," Yusuf assured, taking a step back to give Eames some room.

Warily, Arthur shifted back away, tugging at his bonds with a ferociousness he hadn't shown since being brought inside. His eyes, when they met Eames's, were wide and angry, half-wild in a way that was too excruciatingly familiar.

"No," Arthur said, suddenly afraid. His gaze flickered between Eames and the window, then back to Eames.

"I'm sorry, love," Eames said, before injecting the vaccine into Arthur's left arm.

"No!" he yelled, his eyes pleading with Eames to—

Ariadne screamed.

Everywhere, glass was falling from shattered windows as hands clawed to find purchase, the living dead trying to drag themselves inside. Cobb yelled for Miles and Marie to get the kids upstairs, his finger already squeezing the trigger of his gun rapidly, trying to stem the tide of infected trying to get through the window.

Eames ran forward, ignoring Cobb's shouts to get back, you moron, get away from there! and grabbing a shard of glass to start to cut away Arthur's bonds. "Don't worry, darling," he kept whispering, even as he felt fingers twisting into his shirt and pulling him toward the open window, "I'll get you out of here. I'm not leaving you again."

"Eames!" Cobb yelled. "Duck!"

Eames did as he was told, dropping his body down onto Arthur's without a second thought, even though his neck was now well in range of Arthur's mouth. He kept trying to get through Arthur's bindings, hardly noticing the shots Cobb was firing over his head into the skull of the zombie climbing through the window.

Down the hall, the sharp rapport of Ariadne's gunfire could be heard, then footsteps, then nothing.

"Eames, they're coming. We have to go." Cobb swore when his bullets ran out, dropping the gun into his holster and drawing another, frantically trying to cover Eames and stop him from getting hauled out the window. The chemist's hands were white-knuckled on the grip of his semi-automatic as the first of the shadows began to darken the end of the corridor.

"I suppose it's been a pleasure," he began, and then started shooting.

The first of the zombies made it through the window.

"Yusuf, go," Cobb ordered. "Get my wife and everyone else you can find, and get upstairs. We'll join you in a minute." He aimed, dropping the zombie only to find it replaced by two more, then three. Eames turned his own gun on the infected trying to pull him away from Arthur, bonds only half-cut.

Suddenly, Arthur used the last of his strength and pulled, the bonds giving way. He shot up from the bed and launched himself at the closest zombie, the one who had its hands on Eames. He tackled it, pushing Eames behind him and toward Cobb. Cobb grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the door.

"No, not without Arthur," Eames said, resisting. "Not without my—"

Arthur tore himself away from the zombie and ran for the door, his mouth bloody but his hand going to Eames's extra gun. He drew it and fired, the shot going wide of its intended target, but still catching a zombie in the shoulder. He allowed Eames to pull him out into the hallway and push him towards the stairs.

As he moved to follow them, something caught Cobb's eye.

"You two go," he said, slamming the door to Arthur's room shut, hoping to keep the infected at bay for a minute or two.

"What?" Eames demanded, firing a shot over Cobb's shoulder to halt the infected woman coming down the hall towards them. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Saito. I saw them dragging him off into the living room," Cobb said. "I can't just leave him."

"He's already gone," Eames said, retreating towards the stairs and Arthur, who waited anxiously on the first step. "For God's sake, Cobb. Think of your wife and children."

"I am. Yusuf's looking after them. I'd never be able to live with myself, Eames. Just go."

Eames gritted his teeth, but Arthur was already trying to drag him up the stairs. "Fine. Cobb, I'm not going to go after you if you don't come back."

"I'm not asking you to."

Eames turned to ascend the stairs, not looking back. Arthur paused, watching Cobb disappear down the hall with a strange look on his face, and then allowed himself to be half-pulled up the stairs.

-ooo-

"Yusuf!" Eames yelled as he and Arthur raced down the upstairs hallway. "God damn it, Yusuf, which bloody room are—"

A door at the end of the hall opened and, through the crack, Eames could see Ariadne, terrified and bloody. When she saw them, the she opened the door further and stepped out to cover them as they ducked inside.

"Where's Cobb?" she asked, her voice tight with fear and worry. "And Saito?" Behind her, Fischer's face was white as he leaned against the wall, his eyes shadowed and sad. Mark shook his head slowly, disbelieving.

"They got Saito, Cobb went after him," Eames said, and Fischer closed his eyes.

"Eames, come here," Yusuf said, and then injected Eames before the conman had even looked up.

"I was never bitten, Yusuf," Eames informed him shortly, but his words held no venom, only a sort of dull emptiness.

"Precaution. It won't do anything to you if you're not a zombie. Where is Arthur? I need to try to stabilize him, Eames, he really shouldn't have been moved."

"He's right—" Eames's heart leapt into his throat when he turned and found Arthur no longer beside him. "Arthur?"

"Here," Miles said, nodding to where Arthur sat beside the bed they'd placed Mal on. "There's something wrong."

"Arthur…" Eames whispered, moving closer, but Yusuf stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I wouldn't," he said. "It's the vaccine. He's been fighting it, trying to keep you safe and stay awake. The stress is catching up with him now, and I'm going to be honest and tell you that—"

"That me what, Yusuf?" Eames demanded as Arthur whimpered and pulled his knees to his chest, rocking slowly back and forth as the unsteady rhythm of his breathing grew louder. Every now and again it was drowned out by firing from below, their only indication that Cobb was still alive.

"That I don't know if he'll survive!"

There were footsteps on the stairs, pounding down the hall.

"Grandma, I'm scared," Phillipa whispered, burying her face against Marie's side. "I don't think I can be strong any longer." But she still reached over and took James's hand in hers.

"Do something, Yusuf," Eames ordered. "You do something right now or I'll—" he cut himself off with a choked sob and pushed past Yusuf, kneeling beside Arthur on the floor. He laughed, hollowly. "I guess it's been fun," Eames said to the room at large. "Let's go out with style."

Arthur looked up at him, his eyes fixed on Eames's; pained, tired, scared. "I love you," he breathed, and then his eyelids slipped shut. There were scratches at the door, bangs and pounding and the sound of the zombies' enraged shrieks as they were met with the still-sturdy wood of the bedroom door.

Eames drew Arthur close to him and tucked Arthur's head under his chin. "I love you, too, Arthur."

Arthur pulled away slightly and half-opened his eyes, pupils blow wide and face ashen, and smiled.

Then he screamed and screamed and screamed.