It is the day before the job is going to take place and Arthur is the only one left in the warehouse. He's packing up the last of their things, which means really his things and cleaning up the odds and ends that were let behind. McKay has a doctor's appointment in the morning and they'll be drugging him there, they've already bribed the staff. The PASIV is packed and tucked safely in the trunk of the car, ready for Arthur to get it out in the morning. He's just waiting for Eames to report back after his day of work. After they pull the job "Mr. Waite" would put in his resignation after a day or two, claiming McKay was too much to handle. Truthfully Eames had already stated as much to Arthur, apparently the man was a complete acidic shell with a needy inside who picked apart every single thing anyone ever did, and while on one level Eames found it all infinitely amusing, Arthur knew the forger well enough to know that Eames was very annoyed on all the other levels.
He is sweeping up the floor one last time when his phone starts to ring. Balancing the broom in the crook of his arm he answers it without checking the caller ID, because if anyone is calling, it's because they were given this number, which means someone on the team. "Arthur speaking." He is looking around the room, studying things, making sure he's grabbed up everything, that no one had left anything important behind. The white noise he's able to hear in the background of the telephone conversation is familiar for some reason, but he isn't sure why till the Russian speaker begins. His mind is instantly switching tracks, translating the words. Somehow though he thinks something is being lost, because Eames cant have been shot, he'd just seen him at lunch, just spoken to him on the phone not an hour ago, and no, he cannot be in the hospital.
Arthur doesn't even grab his coat, and by the time he is sitting in the waiting room, numb and with no more information than he had when he'd gotten there, he is so cold he can barely breathe. At least he blames it on the cold, and not how they'd told him Eames was in ICU, how they couldn't give him any information unless he was family, and how even when he'd brought up a false ID that stated he was Mr. Waite's brother, they were still unable to update him, because by then some horrible government types were standing around. He should have left then, as really this was remarkably dangerous, really very dangerous, since at any time they could figure out Eames wasn't Mister Waite at all. But he couldn't bring himself to leave, not till he knew, not till he was sure that Eames was going to be alright, that he wasn't fucking already dead.
After a while someone drops to sit beside him on the waiting room bench and it is a testament to how distraught he is that he doesn't realize at first it's Meredith McKay. The man looks much different up close, hunched in on himself, gripping a styrofoam cup of coffee. Arthur notices that there is blood on McKay's sleeve, and he has a feeling that it's Eames blood, and it should be on -his- sleeve, he should have been there, except he couldn't have been, this is just the way their life is. It takes the man a few moments to come down to earth after Arthur turns to him completely. "You're waiting for someone?" Arthur asks, even though he knows who it is they are both waiting for. He notices that McKay's cheek has an abrasion on it, that the man looks slightly like he's in shock. "Are you his brother?" The look of shock passes, and Arthur watches as blue eyes snap to clarity, and it's a marvel to him how quickly it seems that the man can put things together. He knows now why Eames was getting annoyed, the man went through a whole map of emotions in seconds and it would be hard for someone skilled in reading people to nail down which emotion was the permanent one. "They said Waite's brother was out here, you don't look much alike." McKay narrows his eyes, looks around as if maybe he'd missed someone else in the room.
"I was adopted... is he... is he stable?" Arthur doesn't bother to hide it, the fear, the emotion, he's allowed to feel it, he's playing a part that would feel it. "I.. I'm sorry. I mean, yes, he is, but, I'm sorry." McKay looks pained, and Arthur is terrified, so much guilt, and he's trying to push down all the horrible things. Eames paralyzed, blind, stable but broken forever, and he needs to know right now, and if no one will tell him, he will take this bastard beside him hostage until someone does. "He's going to be fine I think, they got him in the shoulder, it was a Russian mob hit, well attempted, I... I don't even know why, it's all rather ridiculous." McKay blinks a little, and Arthur ignores the looks the Canadian is giving him, paces because he has to move or he is going to hurt someone.
"I need to see him, can you get them to let me see him, they won't let me." Arthur is breaking apart, and he cant make everything fit back together, and maybe if he could just -see- Eames, be assured that McKay was telling the truth, maybe then he can force everything to be alright again.
He cannot hear the terse angry arguments that the man is making in his benefit, cannot hear anything at all until the soft steady beat of the monitor in Eames' room, and then Eames' soft exhale of surprise. He leans over the hard railing, presses his face to hair he had bleached and breathes in. Just breathes till he can hear Eames' voice quietly soothing him. "Your brother, yeah right, my ass." Arthur had forgotten himself, and fuck if this day could get any worse, McKay is leaning against the door, keeping privacy, Eames' face is one of shock and Arthur had given away so much.
"Where did you two get married? I get that you aren't allowed to ask after if you aren't related in the states, but you know you can bribe anyone for anything here." Arthur lets out the breath he'd been holding, shaky exhale, he looks to Eames, who just looks amused now. "Darling, you forgot your coat didn't you, you're positively freezing." Eames is pale, and probably on pain medication, and there was no way he could go under tomorrow. Arthur wants to punch him, wants to scream at him and cry and never let him go again. "By the way, Waite you are fired, there is no way I am staying here anymore, people try to kill me more here than they did in Pe-... never mind. You know what you're just fired, and now that your husband is here I'm going home before I have a heart attack, I have a very sensitive heart you know!" McKay is still complaining on his way down the hallway.
Arthur presses his face to the curve of Eames' neck, he can scent antiseptic, his lips are so close to the bandage, and he doesn't care if he's hurting Eames, just holds tight to him and shakes apart. "Oh Darling, it's alright. Sweetheart come now." Eames consoles and Arthur punches him, doesn't think to use proper technique and so it probably hurts him worse than it does the Brit. "You fucking bastard, you fucking prick, you put me as your emergency contact, and I had no way of knowing, and the fucking government wouldn't let me know what was even going on because of that fucking Canadian bastard. I thought you were dying, you asshole, I thought you were dead." His voice quivers, which wouldn't be that bad if he could not also feel the tears against his face. Shame curls low and wicked in his gut, Eames' lip is split and for the first time Arthur knows the shock displayed on the forger's face is legitimate.
"I need to prep John to replace you." Arthur is angrily wiping at his tears. "Fuck we don't even have his chemical balance for the current mixture, fuck." Arthur paces, cradling his hand, just trying to stop himself from shaking, from showing all this weakness to the one man he would do anything to hide it from. "It's just my shoulder... I can work this job Arthur." Eames sounds obstinate and Arthur rounds on him with a growl. "You pulled me from fucking school, you pulled me from retirement, and you dare to challenge me now? They've shot you with so much medication tonight that you're not going near somnacin again till I fucking say you can." Arthur finally stops moving, stands perfectly still, and stares Eames down. "You're staying here. I will come to get you tomorrow after the job and... fuck... I don't even know, I'll come up with someplace you can recover." Arthur's anger collapses a little, looking at Eames. The man looks so tired, so bruised, and his lip was still bleeding.
Arthur moves, pressing a paper towel to the blood, feeling enough guilt to do it softly. "Arthur." Eames' voice sounds raw, and Arthur tries very hard not to look into those blue-gray eyes, because he knows he wont be able to leave if he does. "Be careful Darling, they weren't after him. It was personal." The claim has Arthur's breath hitching, and he turns with a nod. "I'm always careful." He had to be, too many loose ends, like Eames, and look at where that had left him.