A/N: Clearly I'm unable to live without creating a story about Arthur/Ariadne:D This is a sequel to "This is a gift, it comes with a price", but (hopefully) it's understandable as a seperate story. As always reviews are much appreciated!

The sound of door bell is sharp, somehow urgent and Ariadne sighs. Stepping from the shower tub isn't a tempting idea, as she's freezing cold, after a couple of hours in cold college building.

And she's not waiting for anybody.

Well, to be exact she is, but he won't be back until next Monday.

Ariadne is sure of that; Arthur is never late, but he is also never earlier, always just in time, exactly as he promised. Ariadne learned that during the last six month and it gives her the sensation of comfort.

Arthur doesn't broke his promises, never.

Of course she was scared to death when he said he got a job offer, in Berlin. They came back to Paris from the trip around the world, as Ariadne had to go back to her last year of studying and Arthur didn't even unpacked all his suitcases.

She was afraid and he knew it, sensing it in every her word, every gesture.

But she also trusted him and trusts with all her heart.

So she kissed him deeply on the airport and he smiled to her.

"I'll be back at 22th.", he said.

And he was.

Ariadne isn't sure how he's able to know in advance the date of coming back; making predictions in the Dream sharing business really isn't so easy. Yet, somehow Arthur manages to do so.

The bell is ringing again and Ariadne decides she has to open the door. She carefully wears the bathrobe and with loud sigh opens the door, ready to say firmly "No" in a case of travelling salesman.

But it's Eames.

He's leaning heavily on the doorframe, little pale and Ariadne's heart stops beating for a second, until she realizes Arthur wasn't supposed to work with Eames, not this time.

"Hello, love.", Eames greets her and with loud sigh unsticks himself from the doorframe. "Is Arthur home?"

"No, he's in Berlin.", Ariadne responses quickly, her eyes scrutinizing Eames.

"Berlin…", he repeats after absently and Ariadne feels a little panicked.

"What's wrong with Berlin?", she demands, ready to literally tear the response from Eames. He looks at her in slight surprise.

"Nothing, I suppose. It's Paris what bothers me more right now.", he responses and without asking steps into the room and sits on the couch.

"Eames?", Ariadne follows him. "What's wrong? Are you fine?"

"I could use some paramedical help.", Eames admits. "Can you stitch me?"

Ariadne looks at him with disbelief. "Me? It's plenty of doctors here, for god's sake!"

"Ariadne, I screwed up something and I really can't go to hospital like that, it's… a little too dangerous.", Eames closes his eyes and leans on the couch rest. "I wouldn't show here either, but you're the only person in Paris that won't sell me."

Ariadne stands a little longer, but the paleness on Eames's face finally forces her to take the first aid from the bathroom.

Eames removes his jacket and shirt, revealing a long and ugly gash on his chest. It's bleeding and Ariadne pauses.

Arthur taught her how to deal with that kind of wounds, but it's something completely different to practice on pieces of fabrics and to stitch a real person.

"Eames…", she says hesitantly. "Are you sure you want me to do it?"

Eames sighs and just nods his head. He hisses when needle pierces his skin and Ariadne shivers. She's not afraid of blood, never was, but she hates the idea of hurting her friend.

Eames's eyes are closed, his breath slightly hoarse and Ariadne feels how wave of anxiety washes over her.

"Eames, how big are the chances someone finds you here?", she asks quietly, trying to work both quickly and gently.

Eames's eyes snap open. "Small, of course, I wouldn't be here differently!", he exclaims in indignation, wincing at sudden pain.

Ariadne smiles. "Exactly as I thought. And you know how big are chances that you'll faint somewhere on the street, or airport? Because judging by myself it's about 75 percent."

"Ariadne, I can't stay. Beside, Arthur would kill me if I did.", Eames protests.

"Shh.", Ariadne silences him. "Shit!", she curses, feeling a sharp sting in her finger; it's the needle. "Hope you don't have anything nasty in your blood.", she murmurs and continues her work, until she finally makes the last knot and sighs heavily.

"What? Oh, no, no. even if I have you've already had it too, we're using the same PASIV after all.", Eames responses immediately.

"Done.", Ariadne announces a couple of minute and a lot of blood later and leans on the couch beside Eames. "It was the most exhausting thing I've ever done.", she adds, looking at her hands, wearing protective gloves, now covered with blood.

"We both need a little bit of cleaning.", Eames comments weakly and stays on the couch.

Ariadne absently brushes her finger on the pillow, too late realizing what she has done.

"Oh, no!", she exclaims, looking at the blood stain. "It's Arthur's favorite one!"

Her words finally tears Eames from the state of apathy, he raises himself from the couch rest, mischievous smile on his full lips. "Arthur has a favorite pillow? Oh, Ariadne, I'm really happy I went to you, this information is worth even the crooked stitches."

Ariadne can't help but starts laughing and Eames joins her, groaning with pain, but unable to stop himself.

Later Ariadne tries to force him to sleep on the bed, and surprisingly, she is successed. She, herself lays awake for a long time, her thoughts flying freely.

She's scared, she has to admit it; no matter how bravely she behaved, the sight of Eames's wound terrified her. It recalled her how dangerous the dream-sharing business can be.

Could I do the same for Arthur?

Could I stay calm enough to help him?

Ariadne curls and borrows her face into the pillow.

She hopes she won't have to check it.

Arthur doesn't particularly like Berlin. It's something about this city that doesn't allow him to feel comfortable here.

Museumsinsel, though, has its specific charm, with all this museums around, especially Pergamonmuseum, with its collection. Arthur brushes past a large group of Japanese tourists and sighs.

At least here, he's safe, no one would risk shooting in such crowd.

He felt guilty as always, while kissing Ariadne for good bye, a little like he betrayed her somehow; Ariadne strongly believes in his common sense, but Arthur knows how risky working in this field is.

But this work didn't seem any more dangerous than previous ones, like a typical corporation espionage, nothing more.

The problem is it is something more.

Arthur, the calm and collected Point Man, actually throw a glass, when he found out in what kind of shit he is.

A war between drug dealers.

And Arthur exactly in the middle of it, with no chance to escape, not really. Beside where could he go? To France?

Never, he cannot risk Ariadne's life.

So he tried one thing he was always good at: a double crossing. Today he's going to find out whatever he's successed.

He breathes deeply, his eyes scanning nearby. He's alerted, ready to react.

I has to be fine.

He can't die, not when Ariadne's waiting for him. Not when he's already chosen wedding rings.

No that Ariadne really knows about it.

When suddenly the normal noise of city is silenced with the rumble of gun fire, Arthur ducks instinctively.

Shit, shit.

It seems he's not successed after all.

Another bullet pierces the air, but this time Arthur doesn't manage.

The pain in his back is sharp, but short, as everything mercifully covers darkness, taking it away from him.

Ariadne doesn't believe in premonitions or special bonds linking you with the beloved person, but when she suddenly cuts her finger while making a late breakfast, her heart starts beat unevenly.

The feeling of anxiety is almost overwhelming and Ariadne grabs her cell phone, just to put it down again.

He can be under right now, so he won't answer and I'll finish anxious for rest of the day.

Ariadne breathes heavily and puts her finger under the stream of cold water, feeling slightly ridiculous.

Arthur will laugh at her, when she tell about her behavior, it's certain.

But she takes her phone with her, when she goes to the bedroom, a plate with sandwiches in her hand.

"Hello.", she greets Eames, who's still laying on her bed. He smiles in answer, grins even and stretches his muscular hands.

"Hello, sweetheart. Does Arthur also get a delicious breakfast into bed, or it's just my charm that convinced you to act so?", he asks, mischievous twinkles in his grey eyes.

"Arthur gets things you can only dream of.", Ariadne chuckles in response and sit beside him. "How're you feeling? Need any painkillers?"

Eames's smile broadens. "Arthur's really a lucky one.", he announces, when Ariadne's phone vibrates, showing the name of Arthur.

"Speaking of.", she laughs, feeling the wave of relief.

"Hello, dear.", she says brightly, but instead of calm but tender "Hello, Ari" the silence greets her. Ariadne can hear a breathing, though.

"Arthur?", she asks, slightly hesitantly.

"Khem. Sprechen Sie Deutsch?", an unfamiliar voice asks her and Ariadne freezes.

"Nein!", she almost yells. "Where is the owner of this phone?"

"Accident, guns.", the woman on the other side of line clearly wants to help, but Ariadne can't pay attention to that, completely panicked.

"How… Is he alive?", she shouts, hearing the gasp coming from Eames.

"Entschuldigen Sie bitte?", the woman answers and Ariadne almost throws her phone on the wall, her breath rapid. The gentle touch of Eames's fingers startles her, but he simply takes the phone away from her and puts it to his ear.

His German is fluent, albeit little rough, and Ariadne waits with hold breath.

"He's alive now, but…", Eames voice falters, his grey eyes darker than usual. "She's a policeman, you number is signed as the ICE, so she called…"

Ariadne looks at him with wide eyes, her chest falling rapidly with shuddered breaths.

"What. Happened.", she manages to say, trying to stay calm.

"Shooting, Arthur has been shot in the back, he's in hospital now, most probably there's a surgery made.", Eames answers tersely and puts the phone on the bed. His fingers are slightly shaking, Ariadne notices in some kind of astonishment and finally raises from the bed.

"I need a plane ticket to Berlin, will you take care of it?", she asks and takes a travel bag from her wardrobe, her mind whirling. Later she'll have to separate her things from Arthur's, but now she just puts various kinds of clothes and cosmetics, her movement short and rapid.

"I found two free tickets, flight at 2 pm.", Eames announces, shutting down the laptop.

Ariadne absently nods her head, but then realizes something and frowns. "Two?"

"I won't leave you alone, sweetheart.", Eames responses simply and that's enough.

A flight from Paris to Berlin is a rather short one, but for Ariadne it feels more like an eternity, whole her muscles painfully tensed, fingers constantly tapping on the seat hand rest.

Eames is impressed, though; he still excellently remember the broken girl Ariadne was when Arthur has been shot in the Dream. Of course he ended in Limbo that time, but in real world the threat is even worse. Even though Ariadne seems much more collected, all emotions hidden under skin.

Only nervous movements of her fingers reveal how scared and panicked Ariadne really is.

Eames says the address of hospital Arthur is laying in to the cab driver, his skill of talking in German language at least in use. Ariadne stays silent, exactly like she has been during the flight.

Eames is prepared to a long arguing with doctors, as they're not Arthur's family, but it seems that hospital staff is too shocked to lemur.

"Arthur Carr, yes.", the surgeon says. "He lives through the surgery, now we have to wait for the wake up."

Ariadne digs her nails into Eames's arm. "You mean he's not waking up?", she asks, her voice slightly choked.

"He lost a lot of blood and the injury itself is rather serious, so it's not really alarming, not yet.", a doctor answers gently. "You can see him.", he adds.

He leads them into Intensive Care Unit, speaking some soothing words to Ariadne, which she doesn't really understand or pays attention to.

Arthur survives the surgery.

But he's not awake.

Ariadne clutches her fist, hoping it'll help her not to scream, the yell raising dangerously in her throat. She feels a delicate tap of Eames's hand on her back, when they stop in front of Arthur's bed.

He's laying, motionless and pale, connected to various kinds of machines, the sharp "beep" of one of them hurting Ariadne's ears.

His eyes are closed.