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Arthur (the_pointman) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2011-11-11 21:16:00

Entry tags:

arthur, eames

WHO: Eames & Arthur
WHAT: Eames doesn't know who he is...
WHEN: Friday night
WHERE: Their house
STATUS: In Progress

Arthur had run the whole way from the casino to their home, phone in hand to reply as soon as Eames replied back. After he assessed the problem he'd need to get Ariadne in the loop and possibly get Justin to bring her over depending on how bad the situation was. Not that they hadn't been faced with worse things, Arthur just never liked not knowing what he was getting himself into. He was a man of preparedness, spontaneity worried him nine times out of ten.

After sending his last message to Eames, he calmed himself while he opened the door and stepped inside. It didn't take too much searching to find Eames in his studio. There was an unfinished drawing on the table he figured the other had started before all this happened. Escher was curled up at Eames' feet and Eames himself was sporting an expression that made Arthur uneasy.

Walking over, Arthur set his phone aside and patted Escher and shooed him off a bit before pulling up a chair next to the other. "Hey," his voice much softer then usual, "Eames, I need you to tell me everything you remember, ok? I know it might be hard, but I'm going to do everything I can to help you."

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dream_bigger
2011-11-12 11:02 am UTC (link)

He watched the projection of a young man approach and pet the dog that seemed to like sitting on his feet, and then frowned at the mention of that name again. Was it really his name? There was a first name as well, but he couldn't remember what he'd been told. Opening his mouth to reply, he looked down at his hands and stared. This was wrong.

"I don't understand," he replied softly, still thrown by how his voice sounded. He was old. He knew that much. So why did his hands look like those of someone who couldn't be more than forty or fifty? Why was his voice not dry and dusty and broken from not speaking to anyone for decades? None of this made any sense. He almost considered looking for a mirror to see what he looked like this time but the idea terrified him; the last time he'd looked in a mirror, he'd lost himself and he still wasn't sure if he'd managed to find all the bits. Flexing his hands, he marvelled at the lack of pain, and then looked back at the projection.

He had asked him something, hadn't he? The first conversation he'd had in years, and he'd gone and got distracted.

"What did you ask me? I... forget what you said."

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the_pointman
2011-11-12 06:04 pm UTC (link)

Reaching out, Arthur took hold of Eames' face, moving it about to make a quick assessment. It didn't look like he'd hit his head. He pressed a palm to his forehead which was cool, so he didn't have another fever. Maybe this was another experiment?

Sitting back down, Arthur took one of Eames' hands, giving it a small squeeze. He figured he'd go slow to at least try and reorient him. If anything, he'd try and get more information from him. He was going to need Ariadne later though to work one on one with him as well, figuring that more then one person asking questions might overwhelm him.

"It's alright. We can start off easy, ok? I'm Arthur."

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dream_bigger
2011-11-12 06:26 pm UTC (link)

He closed his eyes and leaned into the projection's touch, unable to remember the last time anyone had done such a thing. And then he was holding his hand, and he couldn't help but look down at that. "Arthur... I... I used to know an Arthur," he mused, then nodded as he checked his very limited memories. There was an Arthur in there. Fabulous arse, he remembered. And "...darling."

He looked up after that and studied the projection. Was this his long-lost Arthur? He missed him very much, now that he had remembered him. "Did I dream you up?" he wondered aloud, then reached over with his free hand and touched projection-Arthur's hair very gently.

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the_pointman
2011-11-12 06:32 pm UTC (link)

It was a promising start. Though these seemed to be tell tale signs of something he was warned a long while back about. He was hoping it wasn't the case and refused to think on it further.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling a bit when Eames tentatively touched back. Normally he would have swatted Eames' hand away from getting anywhere near his hair, but he let him this time. "Yeah, we worked together. And you used to rag on me like there was no tomorrow." He knew Eames might remember more then just the work, but he wanted to baby-step this thing.

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dream_bigger
2011-11-12 06:43 pm UTC (link)

"Are you here to wake me up, Arthur?" he asked, letting his fingers trail down as if they were tucking errant curls behind the other man's ear. "It can't be done, you know. Compounds in the somnacin. Sedatives." He nodded when he finished speaking, then looked down at Arthur's hand.

He pulled his own one free and then turned Arthur's over, running his fingertips over the other man's palm and nothing else. Finally, he drew breath and started talking again. "I don't... I don't remember being this young. I must have been, once. Look at my hands, Arthur. I, I don't understand this..."

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the_pointman
2011-11-12 06:57 pm UTC (link)

That did feel nice, those fingers. Arthur forgot for a brief moment that Eames wasn't Eames. Well, he was Eames, but not their Eames. At least not yet.

Reaching up, Arthur covered the other's hand, running a thumb over his wrist, "You are awake, Eames. You woke up when you got here." The smile on his face faded quickly when he mentioned that next bit. He could feel the blood running from his face and his whole body stilled.

There was a case they'd seen when being trained with the PASIV back in the military. One soldier had gone too far down and had gotten himself stuck. He'd been under for the equivalent of eighty years. When they brought him back up, he'd forgotten mostly everything. And, what had stuck with Arthur the most, was that they were never able to bring him back fully. There was a pit now growing in Arthur's stomach and he began to feel increasingly sick from it. He was never much of a praying man, but he suddenly felt compelled to do so.

"Do you remember anything, Eames? Anything other then me?"

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dream_bigger
2011-11-13 10:26 am UTC (link)

"I built a city," he admitted quietly, "I remember that. And... and I... The... Who's the girl? I upset her, but I don't know her, who is she?" That much was fresh in his mind from the comments that were coming out of the little machine, along with something Arthur had said earlier. "How can you help me?"

He pulled away at that point and stood up carefully. His knees and hips were bad sometimes, so it never hurt to be careful. Moving carefully, he made his way over to the window and looked out at the view he did not know, not even looking down when the dog came and sat by his feet. "I remember... Cobb. Mal Cobb. She fell, but she didn't know it. I fell too, but I know where I landed. I know I can't leave. The man with cats saw to that."

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the_pointman
2011-11-15 12:39 am UTC (link)

"Ariadne?" Hopefully that's who he was referring to. "She's here, and she isn't upset with you."

Arthur felt anchored to the chair as Eames got up. He wanted to pull him back down, but knew to give the other a bit of space for the time being. He doubted bombarding him with anything but slow, fluid movements might be slightly detrimental, or at least possibly disorienting. "Yeah, Mal fell. But when did you fall?"

Standing, Arthur moved over to him at the window, reaching up carefully to smooth over some of the other's hair, "You look a little bit of a mess..."

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