Strain

Eames was not sure how he had gotten here but that did not bring him the usual sense of comfort that came when he realized he was dreaming. Instead it made the situation even worse. Even if it was a dream that did not stop this from being the worst possible scenario. He had no idea why he was standing on this street talking to Arthur, Eames did not even remember what they were talking about, but suddenly he heard gunshots.. Eames ducked behind a car by instinct and Arthur was quick to do the same. They were armed but he could hear the screams of people running by, civilians possibly, he was not sure right now, but either way there was the chance that someone else could get hurt. That was not a risk he was willing to take and neither was Arthur.

"We need to draw them away from populated areas," Arthur yelled over the gunfire.

"Sounds like a good plan but how are we supposed to do that without getting shot?" Eames asked and there was another spray of gunfire. There was no telling when the bullets would go through the cars instead of into them.

"Make a run for it down the alley," Arthur said. "On three." And he did not give Eames enough time to argue before counting up to three. The gunfire ceased for a moment and they both scrambled to their feet and ran down an alley. The brick walls above them shattered from the bullets but they just kept running. They ran and ran and the forger could feel the muscles in his legs start to burn.

"Arthur," Eames managed to say as he panted. Arthur glanced at him and seemed to sense his exhaustion; he ducked onto a side street and slowed to a walk. "Thank you." Arthur did not respond because he was leaning against the wall breathing hard. "Is this real?" Arthur looked at him with wide eyes and he shook his head.

"I can't remember and that worries me. The only time I get disorientated is when we are using a strong sedative," Arthur replied frowning deeply. "And if that's the case then there's a chance of falling into limbo."

"Comforting," Eames said sighing. "So we just keep moving until we lose them and, depending on what's going on, we lie low or wait for the kick." He reached into his pocket and did not find his totem. That made things even worse because if Arthur's expression was anything like his own he knew that Arthur could not find his either. It could mean that they had just misplaced them somewhere during their sprint or that they had not dreamed them up for some reason. Or that the dreamer did not know about them and just had not wanted to attempt it. There were too many possibilities and none of them eased the sinking sensation in Eames' stomach.

"We should keep mov-" Arthur said but he was cut short by the sound of a gunshot. He looked surprised looking down at his stomach as a red stain began blossoming on his perfect suit.

"Fuck," Eames swore loudly because he could hear more of them coming. Without even thinking Eames took Arthur by the arm and draped the point man over his shoulders, pulling him onto his back. "Shut up and don't protest." Eames ran down to the street and if his muscles were unhappy about running they were screaming now that he was carrying another person. Arthur was skinny but pure muscle so he was anything but light. Eames chose to ignore the grunts of pain and how the back of his shirt was beginning to feel wet. Arthur had his arms linked around Eames' shoulders but he could feel his grip start to waver.

He was in a park now, running across a baseball field because there was nowhere else to go without getting civilians involved, and the soft ground made it even more difficult to run. Arthur's grip broke but Eames struggled to keep the point man on his back. The strain on his muscles was too much and the forger collapsed to the ground. He scrambled to his knees and saw Arthur lying on his back, a hand over the wound on his stomach.

"You hang on, darling, you're not allowed to die," Eames said putting pressure on the wound but the voice in the back of his head was screaming that it was too late, Arthur had lost too much blood, it was too late.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" Arthur said through his teeth.

"And you need to keep telling me because I'm a little thick and it takes awhile for things to sink in," Eames replied. "Besides you just need to wait for the kick because this is a dream."

"You don't know that," the point man said and Eames could see a little blood at the corner of his mouth. "And even if you're right I'm almost positive we are using a sedative that will drop me into limbo." Eames gritted his teeth together so hard that he could hear his teeth cracking under the pressure. Arthur's logic was always flawless, always. Arthur was losing color rapidly and the forger took his hand; it was cold and clammy.

"You are not allowed to die, you hear me? Just hang on a few minutes, the kick has to be coming soon, so just hang on," Eames said. Arthur opened his mouth to say something but Eames shushed him. "Shut up for once in your life, Arthur, because you're just going to make your wound worse, you got me?" Music filled the world around them and Eames practically wept from the knowledge that they were in a dream. Arthur's eyes were closing and his breathing was labored. "Arthur, Arthur, just hang on, just another minute, and we'll wake up just fine." The song was quickly reaching the point when they would be kicked out but Arthur was barely breathing. "Arthur, Arthur, you stay with me. Arthur, Arthur, don't die." The world shifted and the fade fell apart into darkness.

Eames opened his eyes to the hotel where he was with his team mates. They were on a job, he could not even remember what it was right now, but Ariadne looked worried.

"Arthur," Eames managed to gasp and he tore the lead out of his arm hard enough that he knew it was going to bruise later. He turned and ran to Arthur's side taking a warm hand into his own. Eames had not gone to church or even believed in any higher power for most of his life but he was praying with his entire being right now.

Arthur took a deep breath, gasping for oxygen, and his eyes fluttered open. Eames did not give the point man time to catch his breath as he pressed their lips together. He did not care who was looking, he couldn't care less about reputation, because he had almost lost Arthur to limbo. Eames pulled away and pressed their foreheads together breathing hard.

"I'm okay, Eames," Arthur said in a low voice.

"I know, darling, I know," Eames replied and Arthur did not chastise him for the endearment.