Battle Scars

            The second time Arthur worked with Eames was nearly six months later. After they had decided it would be best if they bowed out of the job that they were working together it was a short trip to the airport. Cobb decided they should all go their separate ways and he promised Arthur that they would meet up later in London when they had the time. It was then that Eames gave him a salute by placing two fingers to his temple and went in a different direction without so much as a word. The point man was not sure how he was supposed to react to that. They had barely had time to talk in the hours surrounding their injuries and subsequent kiss. He was not sure what the protocol was for a thing like this. Did he try to confront Eames about it? Did he sit back and wait to see if the forger would call? Did he sit and do nothing because there was a good chance that it meant nothing? A heat a of the moment thing he had heard so much about?

            There was no use hiding the fact that he really had no idea what he was supposed to now. Arthur had been in one relationship in the short time he had spent in the public school system and even then it had not lasted long. She had said something about a 'lack of connection' and that he was 'cold' and other things that he really did not remember. From then on he had decided it was better if he just kept to himself. That was his last attempt at any type of romantic relationship. He had graduated high school early and went to college for a year or so before heading off to the military. He found out very quickly that he overestimated his fellow man. Arthur went into intelligence but he kept finding things that his fellow soldiers missed. When he pointed it out to his superiors he made several enemies in a very short amount of time. After crossing a line he did not know existed and unintentionally stepping on some toes the military said it would be best if he walked away while he still could. .

            After leaving, he spent the next few years searching for something to do until he met Mal and Cobb. They were both nice people and he was barely twenty-one at the time when they introduced him to the world of dream sharing. Arthur took to it immediately and it was the most addicting thing he had ever done. They needed research done on the marks and he immediately became their point man. He was fine with that, it was what he was best at anyway, and the three of them worked together for over a year until Mal had her kids. The jobs they worked together became less frequent and Arthur began to work with others. He made connections, he networked, and that was why it had been easy to get Cobb out of the country when Mal killed herself.

            The lack of social interaction played into the reason why he stood there like a moron when Eames just walked away. So Arthur did the only thing he knew; he walked away as well. For those next six months he worked a couple of jobs with Cobb until they needed a forger again. At this point he had accepted the fact that the kiss he had shared with the forger meant absolutely nothing. That did not help the sting he had felt when Eames made no attempt to contact him in those six months. So Arthur leaned against the rental car at the airport with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. Eames was flying in from somewhere in South America and for some reason the flight had been delayed. When the forger emerged from the baggage claim he looked the same as ever. The same clothes, that same smirk when they made eye contact and that same strut where he acted like he owned the place.

            “Good to see you again, darling,” he said.

            “Don't call me that,” Arthur snapped. “We need to get going, Mr. Eames.” Without waiting for any sort of response he turned and climbed into the car. Eames joined him a moment later and he could feel the man's eyes staring him down.

            “If I didn't know better I'd say you were angry at me,” he said and Arthur drove through the roads of Berlin with ease.

            “I'm disappointed that it took so long for us to work together again,” Arthur deadpanned. “The time seemed to drag on without your constant teasing and attempts to humiliate me.” The forger’s chuckle was nothing short of infuriating.

            “Please tell me how you really feel,” Eames replied but Arthur did not even look at him.

            “Do me a favor and just stay quiet until we get to the warehouse. Maybe then we can get through this job without me decking you,” he said and there was that chuckle again.

            “If you wanted to roll on the floor with me, love, all you had to do was ask,” the forger replied and that was nearly enough to make Arthur slam on the brakes but he resisted temptation because the last thing they needed was to get into an accident. So he clenched his jaw tightly and did not say anything. There was a beat of silence when he did not take his eyes off of the road and his anger was finally beginning to subside. “You're really angry at me, aren't you?”

            “It's no wonder you're a forger, Mr. Eames, with how easily you can read people,” Arthur replied and he glanced at the forger who was watching him intensely. It made him uncomfortable but Eames did not push the matter. Instead they sat in complete silence until they pulled up to the small storage area that they had rented out for the job. Cobb looked up when they entered and he was about to flash a smile before it faded instantly. The extractor locked eyes with Arthur for only a moment before he turned his attention to Eames.

            “Mr. Eames, nice to see you again,” Cobb said and the forger grinned.

            “You don't need to call me 'Mr' Cobb. We work together but we can skip the formalities after all,” he replied. Arthur walked over to his desk. Once again he was sure that this was going to be another long job. The two of them talked briefly before they joined Arthur at his desk. He went over the details of their target, a lawyer named Nathan Burk who may or may not have been bribed to throw a case, and the other small details. Their employer, John Anderson, was the head of the law firm and they had lost a decent amount of money when the case fell apart. The entire time he avoided eye contact with Eames but he could feel the forger’s eyes watching his every move. It was unnerving but he had experience dealing with the forger and he would not let it all get to him.

            Much to Arthur's surprise Eames did not poke fun at him much at all. The terms of endearment were cut to almost nothing and he was addressed by his name rather than 'darling,' 'love' or any other pet name. This was very different from the last time they had worked together and it was enough to keep him from completely losing it. It was two weeks into the job before Cobb left them alone for the first time. He had exchanged banter with the forger but it was almost entertaining.

            “Why are you so angry at me?” Eames asked and Arthur stopped what he was doing. He looked up and Eames was looking at him with that strange and intense expression.

            “You're loud, obnoxious and get on my nerves; of course I don't like you,” Arthur replied. The forger narrowed his eyes.

            “That's not what I asked. I asked why you're angry,” Eames said and suddenly the point man was very uncomfortable.

            “Let it go, Mr. Eames,” Arthur replied and he stood up to stretch and took his half full coffee mug to dump it out. Those eyes followed his every move and it was really starting to get annoying. Eames stood as Arthur took a step away and snatched his arm roughly enough that Arthur dumped the contents of his mug all over his shirt. “Wonderful. Thank you so much.”

            “I'm not going to let you ignore me,” Eames said but Arthur ripped his arm free.

            “I need to change,” he said. The point man dug into his bag and pulled out an extra shirt. The forger's eyes were on him again but Arthur kept his back turned so he did not need to meet those eyes.

            “Jesus Christ, Arthur, what happened to your back?” Eames asked when Arthur took off his ruined shirt. He froze; he knew exactly what the forger was talking about. “Your back is covered in scars, who the hell did that to you?”

            “It's none of your business,” Arthur said in a low voice.

            “The hell it isn't. Someone hurt you badly enough to leave you with scars like that? Who did it?” Eames demanded and Arthur turned to glare at him as he buttoned up his shirt.

            “It happened a long time ago and, as I said, it's none of your business so just let it go, Mr. Eames,” he said and the forger stared at him. Those eyes were trying to get a read on him, trying to figure him out, and Arthur had had enough of that. “I need a drink.” Arthur packed up the last of his things and walked out of the warehouse without another word but he was not surprised to hear footsteps following him. He turned to yell at Eames, to tell him that he wanted to go alone, but the forger was right behind him, so close that Arthur could feel the heat coming off of his body.

            “Arthur, what happened?” he asked and his voice was low. Arthur had to swallow the lump in his throat.

            “I told you it's none of your business,” the point man replied and he tried to sound as firm as possible. Eames was in his personal space again and he would not let it bother him; he would not give him the satisfaction of a reaction. So the corner of his mouth only twitched when Eames placed his hands on Arthur's upper arms gently.

            “Let me buy you a drink. I want to try and make up for whatever I did that has made you so angry.” This was the second time Arthur had seen the forger so serious.

            “Will you stop pestering me about the scars if I do?” he asked and Eames grinned at him.

            “I am a man of my word, darling,” he said.

            “Don't call me that,” Arthur replied on reflex and pushed the forger's hands off of his arms. He turned and the two of them walked in near silence until a nice enough bar came into view. Eames lived up to his promise and not only did he not mention the scars again he also bought Arthur any drink he wanted. They sat in silence for over an hour and he was enjoying it before the forger decided to break it.

            “Does you being angry with me have anything to do with what happened after we got shot?” he asked frankly. Arthur nearly choked on his drink.

            “Why would you think that?” Arthur asked and he could kick himself for how defensive he sounded.

            “Because you seemed fine with me when we parted ways and now you want to deck me. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together,” Eames replied.

            “Not that you would know anything about being a genius anyway,” the point man grumbled and Eames chuckled.

            “Not in the way you are, darling, but in my own way. For example, I can deduce, just by looking at you, that you are making sure you are sitting as far away from me as possible and trying not to be too obvious about it,” the forger observed and Arthur tensed on reflex when Eames leaned in close. “I also know that me being close like this is making your heart pound in your chest.” Arthur stood and walked out of the bar without looking back. He was halfway back to the hotel before Eames took him by the arm and pushed him up against the wall. “This is about what happened.”

            “It's in your best interest to walk away, Mr. Eames,” Arthur warned in a dark voice.

            “You don't want me to so why would I?” Eames asked but Arthur was not going to deal with this anymore. He shoved the forger away and hit him across the jaw hard enough to make him stumble back. Eames stared at him as if he could not believe that Arthur had actually hit him.

            “That's enough, Mr. Eames,” he said and the point man walked away. After he turned a corner Arthur checked over his shoulder to make sure he was not being followed again but Eames was nowhere in sight. He was not sure how he felt about that.

            The next morning Eames acted like nothing had happened. The two of them carried on normal conversation and even exchanged the same banter. Cobb seemed none the wiser and Arthur could not have been more thankful for that. Arthur just wanted the job to end so he could move on with his life. Somehow he was going to find a way to communicate that he really did not want to work with Eames again. The forger was the first to leave, for once, and Cobb followed soon after. It was a nice relief to finally work alone when the door opened. Arthur looked up and Eames held his hands up in surrender.

            “I forgot my phone. I'll be out of your way in just a moment,” he said and Arthur stared at him. The forger walked across the room and got his cell phone off of the desk but he hesitated. Arthur was not surprised when Eames walked over and leaned over his desk again. “Are you going to hit me again?”

            “Only if you provoke me,” Arthur replied and he did not break their eye contact. The point man's mouth went dry when Eames put a hand on the back of his head, when the forger started to close the gap between them, when Arthur could not move away. And then his phone rang. The noise was enough to make him jump and move away from Eames. He answered it and listened as Cobb said something or another because he could hardly make it out. When he hung up Eames was halfway out the door without a word and once again Arthur was left alone with no idea what had just happened.

            The next day when Cobb went out for coffee and food Arthur was cornered by Eames against the wall again. The point man pressed his hands against the wall and he had to keep them there because for some reason he felt like he could not trust them. Once again his heart was pounding and he felt like he could not breathe properly. Eames leaned in so his lips were right next to Arthur's ear.

            “When are we going to stop this game?” he whispered and Arthur did not have time to even consider an answer when the door opened and he shoved the forger away. He hated how flushed he felt and he hated Eames even more to see how unaffected he seemed. They discussed the job some more and Cobb agreed that the next day would be the best time to do the job.

            “Have we got the plan all worked out?” the extractor asked and Arthur was still having trouble trying to form a coherent sentence.

            “I have the mannerisms of his secretary perfected. I can get him to trust me no problem,” Eames replied.

            “The research is solid,” Arthur managed to say. “The best time to snatch him would be in his office while on lunch break. We shouldn't need more than fifteen minutes or so in the dream.”

            “One level down and a basic extraction. This should be easy enough and then we leave the city as soon as possible,” Cobb said. “Something about this place has me nervous.”

            “Me too,” Arthur said in a low voice before he had time to think. When he felt the stares of Cobb and Eames on him he cleared his throat. “Let's get some rest. We have to do the job tomorrow and move on.”

            “That we do,” Eames said and he guessed there was probably some sort of innuendo there that he did not understand. Cobb turned to leave but, as he predicted, Eames stayed behind long after the extractor had left. “So we're finally alone.”

            “That doesn't mean a thing, Mr. Eames,” Arthur replied and without looking up he knew the forger was watching him. “By this time tomorrow we'll be continents apart.”

            “Are you sure about that?” Eames asked.

            “Very,” Arthur replied and he looked up. “Have a good night.” For the first time in days he walked out of the warehouse alone without being followed. The point man fell into his bed and rubbed his temples. He was sick of this; he was sick of the teasing, the invasion of his personal space and everything else that came with working with Eames. It was draining and he just wanted to put it all behind him. He was just tired of the games.

            The next morning they met up at Burk's office and Eames posed as a man looking for a lawyer. It got him into the office and gave him the opportunity to drug Burk and by the time the sedative had kicked in it was his lunch time. The man was paranoid enough that his office was out of the way and it was easy to sneak in and lock the door behind them. Arthur set up the PASIV and avoided eye contact with Eames as they went under.

            The maze was impressive but the mazes that Cobb built were always impressive. In the replica of the office Arthur watched as Eames moved through the building wearing the skin of the secretary. He talked with Burk for a moment before she gestured to Cobb nearby. Burk nodded and the three of them went into the office, the door closing behind them. Arthur sat in a chair nearby and watched the projections move. He was the dreamer, he was the one they were going to come after, and he was ready to bolt the moment all eyes fell on him. Inside the office Arthur could feel things shift a little and somewhere in the back of Burk's mind he knew something was wrong. That was when the projections all stopped what they were doing and locked their gazes on Arthur.

            They did not hesitate before they swarmed him and the point man had to kick them off. Arthur took off running down one of the hallways and waited until he had some distance from the office before he started to shoot. One projection went down after another but they were moving too fast and there were too many of them to hold off. Arthur ducked into one of the offices, shot the projection that was in it and tried to slow his breathing. Cobb and Eames would give him a kick when they were out and had the package. He was usually the first to leave but the dream would collapse if he left too soon. Bodies slammed into the door and despite how many times he had done this and had projections gunning for him when he knew that he could not kick himself out, it still made his stomach twist into knots. They were vicious as they struggled against the locked door and Arthur clipped new magazines into his guns and waited.

            The door burst open and Arthur fired off round after round and took down each of the projections but there were too many. It did not take long for them to pin him down, to wrench the gun from his fingers and then proceed to beat him to death. This was new. He had died in many ways but it had been some time since the projections had decided to do it with their fists and not a weapon, but it did not make it hurt any less when they cracked him across the temple hard enough that he saw spots and the splash of blood on the ground. The dream shook and he could not see straight. The projections pinned him down to the ground and a woman in heels kicked his head so hard that--

            Arthur's eyes snapped open and he took a deep breath. Eames and Cobb were still under but they woke up soon after he did. He felt like he had somehow let them down by getting killed before time ran out. Both of their eyes opened slowly and the point man was already halfway done getting their things together.

            “Did you get it?” he asked Cobb and the extractor nodded.

            “Yeah, we got it. The dream started to collapse just as we were about to kick out, did something happen?” he asked and Arthur smiled painfully.

            “Just the usual,” he replied and that seemed response enough for Cobb. Eames, however, kept his eyes firmly on Arthur and it was making his skin crawl. He did not like being watched like that and the longer he felt the forger’s eyes on him the more nervous he got. So instead, he gathered their things and they walked out of the office like they had not just stolen secrets out of a man's mind. They gathered at the elevator before Arthur glanced over his shoulder. The eyes of the people in the office were on them. “Split up.”

            “Cobb, take the elevator. Arthur and I will take the stairs,” Eames said and they were both going their separate directions before Arthur could protest. The elevator door closed and he followed Eames into the stairway. They were walking a little faster than they should but no one was watching so there was no reason to be subtle. “This might get interesting, are you ready to play, darling?”

            “Don't call me that,” Arthur said. “And we'll be fine. We just need to make sure we split up. We can meet up later and worry about getting followed then. Right now we need to make sure we get away without problems.” They pushed open the emergency exit and Arthur turned to leave, moving away from where they had parked the car.

            “Arthur,” Eames called and he turned around slowly to see the forger staring at him. “Be careful.” It sounded like the most sincere thing he had ever heard Eames say so all he could do was nod. Arthur clutched the PASIV tight in hand and weaved through the alleys. Their hotel was not that far away and he decided that walking was a better idea than a cab. The alleys he was in now were not safe and he really wanted to get out of them before something happened. That something happened when he turned a corner and saw a man staring back at him. The look his eyes was so obvious that even he could read it; he was waiting for him. Arthur clutched his suitcase and listened carefully as he heard a body move behind him.

            “Is this the guy?” one of the men asked.

            “Looks like the one that John told us to find,” the other replied.

            “John? John Anderson? Why would he hire me and then send you out here?” Arthur asked but he kept his eyes on the two men.

            “He wanted to see if anyone could actually break into Burk's mind. You proved us right,” one said and they were closing in.

            “What was the point?” Arthur asked before they were both within a few feet of him, front and back.

            “Just a test really. Now we have to complete the second part of the plan,” and the man behind him made the first move. Arthur moved to the side and narrowly missed being hit with a baseball bat across the skull. He ducked and avoided another swing and then kicked the bat out of the man's hand. He stumbled back and they both rushed him in such a way that set off a panic. They were moving and acting like projections; the thought was enough to break his focus long enough that one of the fists connected with his jaw. Arthur fell back a few steps and adjusted his jaw then set the PASIV on the ground. There was no way two miscreants were going to get the best of him. They swarmed again and Arthur stepped to the side and hit one of the men hard enough in the ribs that he heard something crack. He stumbled back and Arthur kicked the other into a wall.

            They were both on the ground groaning in pain and Arthur cracked his neck. He was about to pick up the PASIV when he heard someone moving behind him. The point man threw up his arms to block the assault but the only thing that he felt was a burning in his arm where a needle had broken the skin. Arthur stared wide eyed at the thugs that were attacking him, that worked for the very person who had hired him. The man ripped the needle from Arthur's skin and kicked him onto his back. The point man struggled against the drug that was beginning to take hold of him, he tried to keep his eyes open and his mind alert, but the world around him was beginning to fade and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

            When he came to the first thing he noticed was that the PASIV was close by but open. The thugs were looking through it as if they had no idea what it was and Arthur wanted to kick them all away for even touching the equipment. Instead he realized that his hands were bound tightly behind his back and as he tried to get himself free the ropes burned into his skin enough that he swore he could feel blood. The movement made the men turn around and look at him. The two he had taken care of in the alley stared at him with a look that promised retribution. The other, however, just tiled his head to the side like Arthur was some sort of puzzle.

            “Not long ago someone told Anderson about extraction and he wanted everyone to get trained. Nathan refused and we hired you three to do the extraction to prove a point to Nathan that he needed to get trained. Point proven but now we have a problem. You three have been in his head and you know his secrets. Those little things cannot get out into the open.” He grinned. “You're the information man so I'm going to assume you know something. We found that blue eyed guy you left with but he gave us the slip. The third one we lost completely. You, however, we zoomed in on. You're the one who is going to tell us exactly what we need to know about Nathan and then we are going to discuss how you are going to keep it to yourself.”

            “I'm sorry but I have nothing to say,” Arthur replied and he had to bite back a laugh at the look the three of them gave him.

            “We have you, we can do anything to you to make you talk, you do realize that right?” another asked and Arthur shrugged.

            “I have nothing to say,” he repeated and that was when the first hit came. At first they punched him a few times and asked the same question again and again. And again and again Arthur would look them dead in the eye and repeat that he had nothing to say. They, for lack of a better term, kicked the shit out of him for several hours. They hit him across the head hard enough that blood was running freely down his neck. They hit hard enough that he coughed up blood and spit it at them just for the look on their faces. They backhanded him so hard that he swore something popped and he saw stars. All the while he struggled with the restraints on his wrists but he knew that he was just rubbing his skin raw. His hands felt sticky and he knew they were bleeding freely.

            Arthur was beginning to feel a little lightheaded when they pulled out the screwdriver. He raised an eyebrow when he watched them hold the tip under a blowtorch. They warned him, they said they were going to do it, but Arthur just stared. He was trained for this, they had mentally prepared him for torture when he went into intelligence in case he was captured, so the threat of violence really did not phase him. That did not stop it from hurting like hell when they pushed that burning screwdriver into his side just far enough in that it did not split open but not so close as to endanger any of his major organs. There were few things in this world and in dreams, that were enough to make the point man want to scream and this pain was one of them. They twisted the tool and it was enough to take his breath away. Arthur bit his tongue and squeezed his eyes shut; he had nothing to say.

            The sound of a door opening made the point man snap his eyes open. His eyes focused just in time to see three perfectly fired shots and the three thugs falling to the ground in bloody messes. The world around him was starting to get hazy and Arthur could not catch his breath properly. As everything faded into black he vaguely felt someone put their arms around him and say that 'it was going to be all right.'

            It was morning when Arthur's eyes opened very slowly. He was in a hotel room but he did not recognize the room. When he tried to sit up his side screamed at him to the point that it nearly took his breath away. There were bandages around his wrists and he gingerly touched the spot on his side where he knew the screwdriver had burned him. Arthur felt another bandage on the side of his head and his lip felt swollen. He put a hand to his side as he sat up and tried to focus on his surroundings.

            “I was wondering when you were going to wake up,” Eames said as he walked around a corner. The hotel room had one bed but there were a pile of blankets on the floor nearby.

            “Eames? What happened?” Arthur asked because he did not remember much after the screwdriver.

            “Turns out we were just there to prove a point and once they realized we had actually extracted potentially valuable information they tried to get us to talk. I managed to escape and Cobb fell off the grid but they found you. You passed out from that lovely thing they decided to do with the screwdriver,” Eames replied and he sat on the edge of the bed near Arthur's hip

            “Why are we in a one bedroom?” the point man asked because for some reason that seemed important.

            “The room is under one of my identities and they couldn't find me so I had to sneak your ass up here. Are you aware you weigh next to nothing?” Eames said and Arthur felt the tips of his ears turn a little red. He sat up and ran one his hands through his hair to try and clear his head.

            “How long have I been out?” he asked and that serious expression was on the forger's face again.

            “You've been in and out for a few days. You lost a lot of blood and I almost had to take you to the ER which would not have ended well for either of us. There is a nurse in town that owed me a favor so I called her in. She stitched you up and told me to tell you that you shouldn't move too much for a while,” Eames replied. “Are you all right?” The question seemed extremely obvious but for some reason Arthur was having trouble stringing his thoughts into something that resembled a coherent sentence.

            “I don't know, I think so. Is Cobb okay?” he asked without missing a beat.

            “He's fine. He's been calling every ten minutes to see how you are so once he does again I'm handing the phone off so you can deal with him,” Eames said and Arthur felt his breath hitch in his throat when Eames placed a hand on his cheek. “You need to rest, darling, or those nasty wounds will start bleeding all over the place.” The forger placed two fingers on Arthur's forehead and eased him back into the bed. “Just rest.” Arthur closed his eyes and tried to focus on everything that was not the throbbing in his side or the burns on his wrists. He heard Eames moving through the room and the clicking of a keyboard on a laptop. He focused on everything until the phone rang and his eyes snapped open. Eames had already answered it.

            “Yes, yes he's awake, Cobb. No, he looks fine, will you calm down?” the forger said and he rolled his eyes then handed the phone to Arthur. “Honey, it's for you.”

            “Very funny, Mr. Eames,” Arthur grumbled and he took the phone. “Cobb?”

            “Yes, finally, I was starting to worry. Are you okay? How are you feeling? What happened?” the extractor was asking questions so fast that he could barely hear any of them with the fog that seemed to be clouding his mind.

            “I'm fine, Cobb. I just have some stitches in my side and some bumps and bruises. It doesn't look that bad and I'll meet you in a few hours once I--” Arthur began.

            “The hell you will,” Cobb interrupted. “I have you on lock down until further notice. We're on seven different shit lists right now and you are wounded. There is no way you're going out there until you're functioning at 80% minimum.”

            “You've got to be kidding,” Arthur deadpanned and he stared at Eames who was watching him carefully. “You do realize what you're asking me to do.”

            “No, I don't realize what I'm 'asking,' this is what I'm 'telling.' I'm telling you that you stay right where you are and let Eames look after you. You're in no condition to defend yourself if someone tries to put a bullet between your eyes so he's going to watch your back. If you argue I'm giving him permission to physically restrain you if necessary,” Cobb said loudly.

            “That would not end well, I assure you of that,” Arthur grumbled and he felt very uncomfortable. “Fine, but as soon as I can move without wanting to kill myself I'm meeting up with you.”

            “Sounds good. Now put Eames back on the phone.” The extractor's voice was so firm and parental that Arthur felt very young. He handed the phone back to Eames who nodded and agreed to a few things before hanging up.

            “So we're roommates for the time being,” the forger declared. “Apparently I'm even getting compensated for having to put up with you for two or three weeks.”

            “I'm so glad Cobb has such faith in my people skills,” Arthur groaned and he fell back against the bed. He expected that this was going to be a long two weeks full of teasing and insults. Instead Eames was on his best behavior. They sat and had room service for three meals a day and after a few days he even felt comfortable letting the forger sit next to him so they could watch a movie or some television show since there was not much else to do. Eames went out of his way to make sure Arthur did not do anything to aggravate his side. That was why after five days the guilt of having the person taking care of him sleep on the floor was too much and he let Eames sleep on the other side of the bed if he promised to be on his best behavior.

            “If I catch you groping me in the night, I won't be held responsible for my actions,” Arthur warned him the first night and the forger grinned at him.

            “And god forbid you lose control,” Eames replied and much to Arthur's surprise Eames did keep his promise. He kept as much space between them as he could and did not do anything to violate the point man's personal space which was actually strange. It was almost a week later when he felt like the rope burns on his wrists were starting to heal. Arthur was halfway to trying to rip the layers of tape off when Eames came in and swatted his hand away. “Just let me do it,” he insisted and Arthur's stomach twisted into a knot when he felt the forger handling his wrists very carefully, taking care not to ripe the tape too hard and his fingertips seemed to linger on his palms for what felt like an eternity. When the tape and bandages were removed Arthur almost bit a hole into his tongue when Eames touched the wounds. “They're healing well so I don't think they're going to scar.”

            “Good to know something won't,” Arthur replied but his voice was much lower than he intended. The point man stared at his hands when he felt Eames' gaze on him. He swallowed rather painfully and waited until Eames released his hands and moved away. Arthur wanted to kick himself; he was not supposed to be this awkward around someone and he especially was not supposed to be this awkward around Eames of all people. They watched another movie that night and Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin when the forger's fingertips brushed his own. He jerked his hand away and focused on the screen.

            It was two and a half weeks later that Arthur had the stitches removed by the nurse Eames trusted. She smiled at him and said he was a fast healer. Arthur was thankful she did not ask about the other obvious wounds he had on his stomach from various knife fights and bullet holes. She placed another bandage over the wound. She told him that he should still take it easy and it would be tender but he should be fine. Arthur was in the middle of gathering his things when Eames walked into the hotel room, his arms full of food other than room service. He stared at Arthur for a moment and set the bags aside.

            “You got the okay to go?” he asked and the point man nodded.

            “Yes. I've been here too long and so have you; we really need to move on,” Arthur said but as he packed he could feel the eyes of the forger watching him carefully. Eames moved behind him and sat in the bed, his hands folded behind his head. Arthur tried to ignore his gaze as he pulled off his t-shirt and once again he heard a hiss behind him.

            “What happened to your back?” Eames asked and he sounded different this time. The point man did not turn around and he did not want to see the way Eames was looking at him.

            “It was my father,” Arthur confessed and he realized that this was the first person who really knew about this. “After my mom died he started drinking and one night I made him mad so he took the whip from one of our horses to my back. When he saw how I reacted to it that became the regular form of punishment.” The scars were lines of white and raised tissue in all directions on his back. The scars faded only a little every year but they were still so obvious that he was not sure he ever could walk outside and not have someone ask about it. Arthur was so preoccupied that he did not see or hear Eames move until there were fingertips on his back.

            “No one deserves that,” the forger muttered and he was so close. The skin over the scars was always so sensitive and Arthur shuddered against the touch despite himself. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that.” The fingertips were gone and Arthur almost sighed in relief until he felt lips on his shoulders near the scars there. Now he almost sighed for a different reason but managed to stay completely still. “You're self conscious about them, I can tell, but you shouldn't be. You think if people see them they'll think you're weak but they're a testament of your strength,” Eames whispered between kisses and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. A few more feather kisses went along his shoulder blade until he felt cloth being pulled onto his arms and over his shoulders. Arthur opened his eyes and found that Eames had dressed him in his button down shirt. “I'm all checked out so you can leave when you like. The food is there if you need something to bring with you,” Eames said and he moved away like he had never been at his back at all. Arthur watched the forger as he gathered his thing and tossed a bag over his shoulder. “Take care of yourself.”

            “Eames,” Arthur said before he even realized the name had left his lips. The forger had barely made it two steps before he stopped, turned and their eyes met. The point man supposed that he must look quite pathetic standing there in an open button down with an expression no doubt mirroring someone who had no idea what was going on. Eames must have seen something different because he dropped the bag and walked forward until Arthur felt his back hit the dresser, until Eames had both hands at his side, until he was pinned there with nowhere to go.

            “What do you want, Arthur?” the forger asked and it seemed like such an obvious question. This was something he should know without having to think about it. This was not something that should have required a lot of thought because he always knew what he wanted. He always had a handle on something. He always understood. Arthur clutched the edge of the dresser so tightly that he heard the wood creak but he did not break eye contact with Eames.

            “I don't know,” he admitted. Arthur felt frozen under that gaze and he tried to read Eames' features even if he had no idea what any of it meant. This time when the forger snaked his hands through Arthur's hair he did not tense up. This time when Eames leaned in close he did not jerk in surprise. This time when their lips met he did not hesitate.

            Somewhere in the logical part of Arthur's mind he knew that this was a bad idea but somehow he could not make himself care. Nothing else seemed to matter when kissing Eames felt this good, how his body reacted when their hips bumped and the little groan the forger made when their tongues met. Eames' hands were out of his hair and around his hips, he seemed to be making sure not to go near the wound on his side, pulling them so close Arthur was sure he was going to suffocate. He gripped the forger's shoulders to keep from falling over and he was sure the only reason they broke away was because they had to breathe. Now their arms were around each other, bodies pressed tightly and Arthur closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against Eames'. The sound of the forger breathing, broken and shaky, was electric because he had never had that effect on someone before.

            Arthur felt that feeling of panic settle in when they stood together like that and it felt a bit too long. The gears in his head began to turn and he tried to think of something he could have done wrong and what he could do to make up for it. Arthur was not even sure what he wanted but in that moment all he wanted was for Eames to touch him like that again. So Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames' neck and kissed him again. It started off slow this time, as if they were testing each other, before something snapped and any semblance of self control Arthur ever thought he had went out the window. He was not even sure if Eames was pushing or if he was pulling but the next thing he felt was the bed against his back and the forger's body over his own.

            Eames broke their kiss and began to tease along his neck and collarbone. Arthur closed his eyes and just took in the feeling of it until the forger's fingers found the other scars on his stomach.

            “And what are these?” Eames said and Arthur was not entirely sure what he said because now the forger was kissing a very sensitive part of his stomach.

            “The mark got the jump on me and I took a bullet to the stomach. Some jobs are more interesting than others,” he managed to reply but the words got caught in his throat because of every single patch of wounded skin on his stomach Eames was finding. When it became clearly unfair that the forger had the advantage of bare skin Arthur took Eames by the jacket and pulled him up hard enough that they kissed again. The point man had managed to push off Eames' unflattering jacket and he was tunnel vision focused that he had to work on the buttons on the god awful shirt.

            Then the phone rang.

            They both pulled away so quickly and frantically that it was almost as if someone had caught them together. Arthur sat up and looked at the phone to see the name COBB flashing. The point man tried to regain his calm and slow his breathing before he hit the talk button.

            “Arthur,” he said.

            “Are you okay? You sound a little winded,” Cobb said without any form of greeting. Arthur locked eyes with Eames and tried to form a decent excuse in his head.

            “Just a little weak from lying around so much. If I move too fast too suddenly I get a little winded; no big deal,” he replied and the forger smirked at him.

            “Right. You said you were going to try and meet me today. We should both resurface or we should both go into hiding. Most people out there know you rarely work with anyone but me,” the extractor said.

            “I'll be at the airport in an hour,” Arthur said and he hung up the phone.

            “Weak from lying around? Very clever darling,” Eames said slyly.

            “Don't call me that,” Arthur retorted but there was no bite behind his words. They both sat on the bed for a long time before the point man managed to find something to say. “I should go; I have a plane to catch.”

            “And I have a train to catch,” Eames replied. Arthur nodded and they both climbed off the bed to gather the last of their things. The point man had just managed to button up his jacket and smooth out his hair when he turned to find Eames standing right in front of him. Arthur searched his face for something, anything, but felt a little defeated when he saw nothing behind those blue eyes. “What now?” The forger was right there, right in front of him and within arms reach, so close that he could practically hear his heart beating.

            “I don't know,” Arthur said because he really had no idea.

            “Me too,” Eames replied and Arthur just knew by the sound of his words, just by the way that he said it, that it was true. “I'm all about the thrill of the chase but I--” The point man closed his mouth over Eames', to stop the words even if they both knew what they were and he pulled away after only a moment.

            “Caught in the moment,” Arthur said finally and he swore there was a flash in the forger's eyes but it was so quick he was sure he had hallucinated it.

            “Exactly,” Eames agreed and the forger put a hand on Arthur's arm. “Take care of yourself, darling, until the next time we work together.”

“Same to you,” he said and the hand moved from his arm. The point man gathered his bag and turned to look at the forger one last time. “Mr. Eames,” Arthur said and Eames looked up at him. “Don't call me that.” When the forger cracked a smile Arthur made no attempt to hide his own.