Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the plot. Thanks and enjoy.

Wake Up, Darling

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets Eames called himself every kind of idiot prat as the damn elevator chimed with each bloody floor he passed. Trust Arthur to get a room on the top floor. Shaking his head the forger pulled one hand out, fingers moving without pressing down on any of the numbered buttons. It wouldn't do any good anyway. He'd wait till he got to the top floor and then press for lobby. Arthur need never know he'd almost stopped by and that would be that. In theory.

And dammit, he was going to get out when the fucking elevator reached the top floor and he was going to knock on the point man's door.

Swiping his free hand through his hair Eames cursed the fact that he cared, but he did. Cared too bloody much in his bleeding opinion were anyone to ask him while he was drunk and therefore too in his cups to realize that he'd sooner fall into the nearest sewer system head first than admit he cared a wit about Arthur.

He'd tried to talk to other man after Cobb had left them to meet his father in law, Arthur had refused to even share a cab with him. And he hadn't pushed, which maybe he should have, Eames silently admitted to himself. Because there was no way in hell that the younger man could possibly be okay right now. The relief that none of them had been stuck in limbo and that Dom had gotten to go home to his kids had to have worn off pretty quickly once the man's mind had gotten beyond those facts after all. And then Arthur would have had to deal with the fact that his best friend had been willing to treat him like a sacrificial lamb if that what it took to get what HE wanted and what was best for HIM. The two had been tight for years, like brothers really. Even someone as cool and detached as Arthur had feelings and as far as he knew Cobb's family was ALL the family Arthur had in the world.

So here he was, after the fact, come to see if he could convince the man to go out to brunch with him in what was likely an extremely stupid attempt to cheer the poor bastard up a little.

Or at least get some food into the man.

Taking care of the stuffy, know it all, prim and proper point man was not his responsibility and the bastard wouldn't thank him for it. In fact, it was far more likely that the door would be closed in his face if Arthur was even in the hotel room when he got there. He'd tried calling the other man and had been sent straight to voice mail.

Which Arthur had yet to answer and that wasn't like him at all.

Arthur was always punctual and was too…Arthur not to at least acknowledge that he'd been called.

So why hadn't the bastard responded to any of the three calls he'd made the night before?

The elevator door opening jolted Eames out of his thoughts, the forger stepping out after confirming that he had indeed reached the top floor. And as soon as the door closed behind him he was cursing the fact that he hadn't stayed inside the bloody thing.

But he was at his destination and…and fuck it, he wasn't going to be able to enjoy all the lovely money in his bank accounts until he knew that Arthur wasn't drinking himself to death or some such nonsense somewhere.

Strolling down the short hallway Eames stopped in front of the correct door, briskly knocking on it.

And getting no answer.

Knocking three more times just in case Eames frowned, staring down at the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging off the door knob. Logic said that he should just accept that the point man wasn't in his hotel room and just continue to call off and on until he got the other man on the line. It was vaguely stalkerish and creepy, but since he wasn't likely to ever see Arthur again after this, and the man already thought he was an ass anyway, Eames figured that was okay.

Now if he could just shake the feeling that it was damn important that he find Arthur.

A feeling he hadn't been able to shake since the night before.

So what was he supposed to do?

Pulling out his phone from his pocket Eames dialed the man's number again, once again being sent straight to voice mail. At this point he'd actually be pleased to hear the other man's ringtone for him, the forger thought wryly, which he'd been told was one of the theme songs for the bloody 'Three Stooges'. Sounded like 'Three Blind Mice' to him, but apparently that was the point.

Getting more than a little annoyed Eames decided that he was going to make the bastard sorry that he'd up and ignored him when he was concerned about the thoughtless ass. The man might not be in the hotel room, but the man's clothes probably were, the forger thought evilly. Oh but the skinny little shit was going to be sorry he'd made him worry this way. Damn but the man was going to be sorry. He'd make sure of it.

The lock on the door wasn't a problem, he had plenty of experience where such things were concerned. Smiling when the green light flashed Eames opened the door, immediately taking in the expensive looking front hallway and the living room.

Heading in Eames made not a sound, looking all around him as he moved, not putting it past the other man to ambush him or react badly if caught off guard. It would be stupid of him to assume he was alone in the suite. He wouldn't put it past the prat to be there and just ignoring him, though Arthur probably would have come to the door, just in case. He was an obsessively polite prat after all who would have at least looked into who was there.

But the man had had a hard couple days so maybe he was wrong to sneak into the man's room and tie all his suits, shirts and ties together to make a garland to decorate the other man's room with.

Considering this Eames hesitated, but decided to decide what to do once he got to the bedroom where he assumed all those suits would be neatly lined up according to color and possibly designer. Seeing that would probably give him the inspiration he needed to find within himself the strength to either make his garland or do something a little more age appropriate like write a note telling the idiot what an ass he was for not returning any of his bleeding calls.

Unless there was bottles of an alcoholic nature everywhere. Then maybe he'd cut the man a break.

It would be interesting to see a drunk Arthur. Very interesting.

Heading into the bedroom Eames raised his eyebrows when he found out that the door in fact led into an impressive bathroom. My but the man had gone all out when he'd ordered the room. Only the best for his bastard darling.

Retreating from there Eames entered the next room, his hand pausing on the switch when he caught sight of the fact that Arthur was indeed still in the hotel room. In the bed apparently, fast asleep despite the fact that the clock he read on the bedside table stated that it was nearly eleven thirty in the morning.

Guess the man really had tied one over the night before and was sleeping it-

Eyes narrowing Eames couldn't have said why, but he felt a chill run down his spine as he looked at the only addition Arthur had apparently made to the items on the table.

A bottle, but not one for alcohol. A pill bottle.

Walking over the forger stared at the other man as he moved in what felt like slow motion, taking in the fact that Arthur didn't seem to be moving, was lying so still and pale in the faint light shining through the blinds covered window. Reaching out with a hand that trembled Eames picked up the bottle, and though he wasn't in the medical profession he knew, as soon as he read the label, exactly what the man had taken.

The drug had been used by some in their profession for a brief time, but had been thankfully phased out since it was dangerous as hell in inexperienced hands. The chance of overdose was incredibly high, and had killed as many marks as it had put them to sleep so that their dreams could be infiltrated.

The bottle was almost empty.

It didn't register as the container tumbled out of numb fingers to the floor, Eames didn't even think, he just acted.

Ripping the blankets off the man Eames all but dove across the bed, grabbing the still man by his shoulders while ordering Arthur to wake up, the forger changing tactics when that got no response, holding the other man roughly by one shoulder as he drew his other hand back to slap the point man hard across the face. "DAMMIT, ARTHUR, DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME! YOU BLOODY BASTARD FINK! I'LL NEVER FUCKING FORGIVE YOU!"

And then a gun was at his head and Eames found himself staring into very hazy but open, alive, and pissed eyes. Arthur's eyes.

)

Trying to register what the hell was going on Arthur struggled to keep his eyes open, aware only of the fact that Eames was, for reasons that completely escaped him, in the room with him, and that his cheek hurt like hell. But since it was Eames Arthur moved the gun he'd grabbed reflexively from under his pillow away from the forger's head, which was a good thing since for some reason the man chose that moment to pull him into his arms to hug him in an embrace hard enough to potentially crack ribs.

"Eames?" It was hard, but he forced his words out without too much slurring, the drug yet to run its course enough to allow him full mental acuity as he set the gun aside. "What's going…on?"

"You're alive." Was all the man seemed capable of saying, and those words were muffled as it was since the forger had buried his face against the side of his neck.

Okay, he understood that, but not why that would be a surprise to the man. Why wouldn't he be alive? Unless…

Stiffening with the fear that gave him temporary clarity Arthur pulled back, forcing Eames to meet his gaze. "The others? Something happened to them?" Saito. The bastard. He wouldn't want anyone to know about what he'd done and it went without saying that the man was ruthless enough to eliminate anyone in the know. Especially since the businessman would know they were capable of invading people's minds to the point of Inception. Something Saito wouldn't want to risk ever happening to him. Hell, the man might do it in retaliation for the trick Cobb had played on all of them after thinking it over. Oh fuck, he'd never forgive the bastard if he'd gotten them marked for death on top of everything else.

"No. No they're…at least as far as I…the pills dammit. What the fuck were you thinking, and don't deny it, the way you're slurring your words and having trouble focusing says it all. This is you after all, Mr Big Words."

Okay…he had no idea what the man was talking about. "Why are you angry?" He could hear that that was the case, he just didn't know why.

"Why am I ANGRY?" The heat and decibel of the other man's voice had Arthur wincing. "YOU SWALLOW A BUNCH OF BLOODY PILLS AND YOU ASK ME WHY I'M ANGRY?"

The yelling didn't help his rapidly depleting ability to follow the conversation, but Arthur refused to return to unconsciousness just yet as he struggled to figure out what was going on and why he was being yelled it. "Pills? What…oh. You're mad at me because I-," It took the point man a moment to remember the point he was trying to make. "Mad because I took a sleeping pill? Why?"

"Pill…you took a pill singular?" If the man had just taken one he probably didn't have to get the man to the nearest hospital.

"Of course only-you thought-oh." Weaving a little in place Arthur shook his head. "No. Just one. Can't use regular…too much of the strong stuff…while working…but I have a plane to catch later…time zones…sleepy."

Eames placed his hands on the man's face. "Plane to catch? What are you talking about, Darling? You're home now."

Shaking his head made him dizzy, and Arthur leaned forward, resting his forehead on the other man's broad shoulder as he steadied himself. "Not home. No home. Going to Europe…see some people…then go to Venice. Always wanted to go. Eat pasta all day…find an Italian guy as sexy as you…find happiness." Yawning Arthur nuzzled his face against the forger's neck, enjoying the other man's unique scent. "Will miss you…bye bye."

And like that he was out again.

)

Waking up at the sound of his set alarm Arthur reached out and turned it off, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his face as he tried to remember what it was the little voice in the back of his head was telling him he should be thinking about. Something to do with Eames? Maybe it was about the weird dream he'd had, about the idiot showing up in his hotel room and thinking he'd attempted to commit suicide. Why he would dream about such a thing was beyond him, not the least because the Brit couldn't have cared less about whether he remained alive or not. And okay, that wasn't fair, the man wasn't a bastard after all. He would care. The man had tried to talk to him at the airport, to make him feel a little better, Eames deserved points for that.

Muffling a yawn the point man pushed those thoughts to the side and got out of bed, noting that everything was as it should be.

Shrugging off his strange dream the point man headed for the shower, keeping it short since he did have a plane to catch and he hadn't set aside a lot of time for putting himself together. Not that he particular cared what anyone who might be watching him thought when he was in public, but to him his wardrobe, hair style and manner of behaving were his armor, and damn if they weren't all but impenetrable.

And given how badly he was fucking bleeding inside Arthur couldn't help but hurry back into his bedroom to get dressed and into that armor again.

The pill had done its job, now it was time for him to do his and soldier on as always.

Alone once more.

Biting down on his lip Arthur firmed it up, not bothering to gel his hair since the water had slicked it back for the time being and once he was in the air he'd deal with it if need be.

He'd unpacked only what he'd needed to so it was a simple task to return everything to his suitcase, rolling it out the door with plenty of time to spare.

Heading straight for the elevator the lone man stood straight and tall in the center of the box, his face fixed into vaguely pleasant lines, not for a minute revealing his thoughts as he waited to reach the lobby. Moving out of the way to make room for those who got on with him Arthur smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement of their presence, easily ignoring the brunette who gave him an interested look. Allowing everyone out first as was his habit Arthur was the last out, walking straight towards the front doors, idly checking his watch before murmuring his thanks to the doorman who opened the door for him.

Walking down the steps Arthur came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a man he'd never expected to see again leaning against the car he knew he'd hired to take him to the airport. "Eames."

"Hello, Darling. I was beginning to think I'd need to go and get you."

"What are you doing here?"

Eames grinned as he opened the car door, motioning Arthur towards it. "Well I thought that since we were going to the same place the least you could do was let me share the car. Don't tell me you'd deny a mate a lift to the airport."

Automatically handing his suitcase over to the driver Arthur had eyes only for the man in front of him as he moved closer, barely able to hide his complete bafflement. How would Eames know he was going to the airport, or what time he'd be leaving at that? And the forger had had plenty to say about how he was going to enjoy his time in the US, especially the nightlife and casinos. "You're catching a plane to…Los Vegas?" Typical Eames, eager to blow all his money at the tables as soon as humanly possible.

"Europe, actually. Some brief stops and then Venice. I have a friend whose never been, thought I'd show him around."

"How-"

"Get in the car, Darling."

Back automatically going up Arthur's eyes narrowed, even as he tried to figure out how the hell Eames could know so much about his plans and…and was apparently planning to forgo his previous plans in favor of going to Europe with him. Willingly? Why? What the hell was going on here? Was he still dreaming? Where the hell had he put his die? In his bag?

Rolling his eyes dramatically Eames walked over, grasped the younger man's arm, and pulled him towards the vehicle, Arthur stunned enough to let him. Giving the man a slight push the forger slid in beside the man before the point man could recover his senses enough to protest the action.

"Eames!"

Leaning forward Eames pressed his lips against the other man's cool cheek, stunning him further. "Just relax, I'll explain on the plane. Enjoy the scenery, we'll be in Europe for a long while after all, might as well appreciate this part of the country before we leave it."

"I don't understand." Was the best Arthur could manage, the driver starting the car.

"You will." Eames promised as he took Arthur's hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. "You will."

Staring down at their joined hands the point man couldn't make himself let go of it. Not today. So he stared out the window and pretended he wasn't aware of the hand holding his.

And later, when they were on the plane he made not a sound of complaint when Eames took his hand again. He held on just as firmly.

He was still holding it when he woke up from a cat nap when they arrived at their destination to the sound of the forger's voice.

"Wake up, Darling."