Just To Get It Through My Head
Title: Just To Get It Through My Head
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: It's. Not. Mine.
Summary: Eames doesn't want to admit he actually cares about Arthur, and Arthur can't live like that anymore. Cue a cross-continental chase when Eames realizes how badly he's fucked up.
Author's Note: Written because as much as I enjoy the fics where Arthur screws up and has to chase down a fed-up Eames... I find this scenario just as likely.
Maybe I was straddling the fence just like she said
It took her leavin' just to get it through my head
She's the one and only
It's over, that's it
I'm committed, I'm in love and I'm desperate
She's a good ways gone
But I'm closin' the gap
If I have to I'll chase her clear across the map...
A/N: The song quote is from Little Red Rodeo by Collin Raye, sorry for the female pronoun usage, but otherwise it fits. Also, this fic was born because, as much as I like seeing Arthur chase Eames around the globe once he comes to his senses... Why is it always emotionally-unavailable!Arthur making the relationship go south?
At first, Eames doesn't think there's anything wrong when he wakes up, even though he's alone in the bed. Arthur usually gets up before he does, after all. But as he comes to full awareness, it occurs to him that the flat is entirely silent. He can usually hear Arthur, either in the bathroom or in the kitchen, doing something, making noise even though he's remarkably quiet overall.
They had a fight last night, but Arthur hadn't gone so far as to sleep in the guest room, Eames had assumed all was well. It was a stupid fight anyway.
“So, what crawled up your ass and died, darling?”
“Did you really have to flirt with every fucking person in the damn bar?”
“I didn't realize you were the clingy sort.”
“I... It's... I know you enjoy it, but for fuck's sake, Eames, maybe you could lay off it just slightly? I mean, if I'm not with you it's one thing, but it's a little odd, how we've been involved for almost a year and yet you act like it's nothing.”
“You act as though this is so terribly serious, Arthur.”
“Very well, Mr. Eames. I'm sorry.”
Eames had mostly been teasing, needling his lover the way he always did, but part of what he'd said had been genuine. Because, well, it was serious, and he didn't want it to be. It wasn't supposed to be, and the thought that Arthur wanted it to be officially clear that it was, well... It scared the shit out of Eames. He couldn't understand why they had to do that, why they couldn't just continue as they were. Why acknowledge anything?
At the time, he'd been so caught up in irritation and panic that he'd taken Arthur's words at face value, not noting the tone or the look on his face. Now, replaying the conversation in his head, he can hear the wooden, dead voice Arthur had used, and the blank, frozen look on his face. “Oh fuck,” he says, jumping out of bed with a sudden sick feeling. He rushes through the apartment, taking only moments to ascertain that Arthur isn't anywhere to be found, and to notice other little things as well. For example, Arthur likes to drape his brown leather jacket over the chair he uses in the kitchen, and it's not there.
Neither are the rest of his clothes, when Eames steels himself to return to the bedroom and check the closet. Going back to the kitchen, he sees the note held in place by one of the magnets Ariadne sent them as a flatwarming present
Sorry to leave like this, though I suppose you'll actually be relieved. I get that you didn't want anything serious, so more fool me for wanting more, even after I told myself I wouldn't. I've loved you for a long time, and they say that makes a man blind, so that's my only excuse. Maybe I'll see you around, maybe I won't. I trust we can work together if the situation calls for it, but otherwise, I don't plan on seeing you again.
There's no signature, but it's not as though Eames needs one to recognize Arthur's handwriting, or the bitterness written between the lines. Arthur's gone. He left, and based off this he isn't coming back. Eames thought the panic he felt last night was bad, but this... This is the worst he's ever felt, he can't even breathe.
~ ~ ~
He tries calling Cobb, first. All he gets is a clipped, “What makes you think I know where Arthur is?” before the line goes dead. Then he calls Yusuf, because he knows very well that Ariadne's staying with his chemist friend. How those two ended up together is a mystery, but then Eames supposes they probably say the same thing about him and Arthur. Said the same thing... Christ.
“What do you mean, he's gone? Eames, what did you do?” Ariadne says immediately.
“Why do you assume I did something?” Eames wants to know, even though of course he did. He's just wondering if it was that obvious to everyone but him.
“Because Arthur's been quietly miserable for months now, and apparently you never clued in. So. What did you do?”
“I...” Eames tells her about the fight, and he can hear her facepalming over the phone.
“Wow, you really are an asshole, aren't you? But if it's not serious, then why are you trying to find him? Why do you care?”
Eames scowls, even though Ariadne can't see it. “It is serious, for fuck's sake! I'm in love with him, that's bloody serious if you ask me!” He stops dead, shocked by his own admission. He can't believe he said it, but now that he has, he can't deny it. It's true, after all, though it's taken him till now to admit it even to himself.
On the other end, Ariadne sighs with exasperation. “And why are you telling me this and not Arthur? Why didn't you tell him already? He thinks you're just playing with him, that when you finally get bored you'll drop him without a second's thought.”
“I...”
“You know what, save it. I don't think I want to hear whatever ridiculous excuse you have, and if you are planning to track down Arthur, have a better explanation before you do.”
Eames is about to reply, but the dial tone beats him to it. He glowers at the phone, angry mostly because he can't deny that he probably deserved that. He knows Arthur and Ariadne are close, but how did she know Arthur was miserable and Eames didn't even notice?
Because you didn't want to notice, a nasty voice in the back of his mind says. He would really like to shut that voice up, but he can't. However, a momentary distraction arrives in the form of a ringing phone.
“Hello?”
“Eames, it's Cobb. I thought you might want to know, Arthur's first alias was Mark Cohen. He doesn't use it much anymore, so he probably never told you about it. I know you know his others, so he might be using that one right now.”
“Thanks, Cobb.”
“Don't thank me, just track him down and fix this.”
So, apparently Cobb had been aware of what was going on as well. That doesn't make Eames feel any better, but at least he has information now. And sure enough, a Mark Cohen left Heathrow Airport at three AM this morning. Christ, Arthur must really want to be away from him, and that stings a lot worse than he could have imagined.
Pushing the thought aside, he calls the airport to book a flight to Venice, which is where Arthur's gone.
~ ~ ~
He narrowly misses Arthur in Venice, the point man having taken a train to Florence by the time Eames' plane touches down. So he heads to Florence, only to find that Arthur's flown out again, this time to Cairo, of all places. He has no idea if there's any pattern to Arthur's traveling, but he follows just the same. He actually manages to get to Cairo while Arthur is still there - technically. He sees him in the airport, but Arthur boards his flight before Eames is even close enough to yell. He supposes he could have tried, just the same, but he's trying to get Arthur to forgive him. Causing a scene in the middle of Cairo International Airport is probably not the best way to do that.
Arthur's next stop is in Paris, and again, Eames almost catches up to him, if not for a sudden stream of tourists - he has no clue what country they're from, because they're chattering in a language he doesn't speak. Nor does he care, not when he can't find Arthur again once they've moved. By the time the name Mark Cohen reappears on travel notices, it's been a week and Eames has been looking all over Paris for the other man.
He has no idea why Arthur is visiting St. Petersburg, and he doesn't care, just gets on another plane. This time he misses the other man completely - Arthur's plane apparently had a stopover in Berlin and the man just got off there instead. From Berlin, he heads to the States, specifically Chicago. Eames follows him once again, only to find that Arthur's already left for St. Louis.
At this point, he's beginning to wonder if Arthur knows he's following and is just screwing with him, but he scours the unfamiliar city for his lover (former lover? Technically yes, but hopefully that isn't a permanent label) anyway. This time, when he doesn't manage it and gets back to his hotel to find that Arthur's caught a flight to Philadelphia, he almost chucks his laptop at the wall. But then he realizes - Arthur's in Philadelphia. Arthur hates Philadelphia, it's his hometown but his childhood sucked, and he doesn't like the memories that get dredged up when he goes back.
Eames books a flight, hoping that he can actually catch him this time.
~ ~ ~
Arthur's at the Italian Market, of all places, sitting at an outside table with a coffee in his hand from the coffeeshop Eames saw further down the street - it seemed to be half coffeeshop and half chocolatier, but that's hardly the point. The point is that Arthur's not running, and he certainly sees Eames coming. “You hate Philadelphia,” Eames says, because he can't think of anything else to say.
Arthur doesn't look at him, instead keeping his eyes on the people walking by. “Not so much anymore. I'm not sure there's any point to hating it. Have you been following me?”
“You mean you didn't know?” Eames asks, taking a seat at Arthur's table. It's very disconcerting, the fact that Arthur won't look at him.
“Well, I suspected, but I can't see why you would. Didn't I give you what you wanted already?” Arthur's voice is that same flat, dead tone that he'd used that night, and it's killing Eames to hear it.
“No, I... Arthur, please just look at me, will you?” He can't stand it, can't stand that Arthur won't even look at him. God, did he really hurt him this badly?
Arthur turns his head, and Eames can see that the other man's face is blank, his eyes tired. “What do you want from me, Eames? You're a free agent again, which you so clearly prefer, now can you please go away?”
“No, no I can't. Arthur...” He's not good at apologizing, he almost never does it. But sometimes there's nothing else to do, and he's in the wrong this time, well and truly. So... “I'm sorry, Arthur, I... It's not that I... God, I'm not used to this whole relationship lark, I'm used to no-strings sex, and so when it was more with you, I panicked. I don't know how to deal with anything else, so I acted like that's what was going on with us.”
“Well, now you won't have to worry about how to deal, because there's nothing to deal with.” Arthur stands up, and Eames grabs his wrist, desperate.
“Darling - Arthur, please, I love you, please don't tell me I left it too late. Just give me a chance, I won't... I'll...” Arthur hasn't turned back, he's still facing away from Eames and he so obviously doesn't care what his former lover has to say, because Eames really did fuck up beyond repair.
Except then Arthur does turn around. His voice is carefully even but there's something in his eyes that gives Eames just a little hope. “How can I believe that from you now?”
Eames stands up as well, looking Arthur right in the eyes even though the other man is slightly taller than he is. “Maybe you can't yet, but if you'll let me, I'm going to do everything I can to convince you.” He means it, because he can't lose Arthur. He sort of knew that before, but now, after all this, he really knows it. Not having Arthur in his life is unacceptable, therefore he has to make sure that doesn't happen.
Arthur says nothing for a long moment, just surveys Eames with guarded brown eyes. Then he sighs, raking his free hand through his ungelled hair. “I might be open to being convinced,” he says, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly.
Translation: Eames is not off the hook yet, but Arthur's giving him an opening. He's giving him a chance. And Eames isn't about to waste this one.
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Disclaimer: It's. Not. Mine.
Summary: Eames doesn't want to admit he actually cares about Arthur, and Arthur can't live like that anymore. Cue a cross-continental chase when Eames realizes how badly he's fucked up.
Author's Note: Written because as much as I enjoy the fics where Arthur screws up and has to chase down a fed-up Eames... I find this scenario just as likely.
Maybe I was straddling the fence just like she said
It took her leavin' just to get it through my head
She's the one and only
It's over, that's it
I'm committed, I'm in love and I'm desperate
She's a good ways gone
But I'm closin' the gap
If I have to I'll chase her clear across the map...
A/N: The song quote is from Little Red Rodeo by Collin Raye, sorry for the female pronoun usage, but otherwise it fits. Also, this fic was born because, as much as I like seeing Arthur chase Eames around the globe once he comes to his senses... Why is it always emotionally-unavailable!Arthur making the relationship go south?
At first, Eames doesn't think there's anything wrong when he wakes up, even though he's alone in the bed. Arthur usually gets up before he does, after all. But as he comes to full awareness, it occurs to him that the flat is entirely silent. He can usually hear Arthur, either in the bathroom or in the kitchen, doing something, making noise even though he's remarkably quiet overall.
They had a fight last night, but Arthur hadn't gone so far as to sleep in the guest room, Eames had assumed all was well. It was a stupid fight anyway.
“So, what crawled up your ass and died, darling?”
“Did you really have to flirt with every fucking person in the damn bar?”
“I didn't realize you were the clingy sort.”
“I... It's... I know you enjoy it, but for fuck's sake, Eames, maybe you could lay off it just slightly? I mean, if I'm not with you it's one thing, but it's a little odd, how we've been involved for almost a year and yet you act like it's nothing.”
“You act as though this is so terribly serious, Arthur.”
“Very well, Mr. Eames. I'm sorry.”
Eames had mostly been teasing, needling his lover the way he always did, but part of what he'd said had been genuine. Because, well, it was serious, and he didn't want it to be. It wasn't supposed to be, and the thought that Arthur wanted it to be officially clear that it was, well... It scared the shit out of Eames. He couldn't understand why they had to do that, why they couldn't just continue as they were. Why acknowledge anything?
At the time, he'd been so caught up in irritation and panic that he'd taken Arthur's words at face value, not noting the tone or the look on his face. Now, replaying the conversation in his head, he can hear the wooden, dead voice Arthur had used, and the blank, frozen look on his face. “Oh fuck,” he says, jumping out of bed with a sudden sick feeling. He rushes through the apartment, taking only moments to ascertain that Arthur isn't anywhere to be found, and to notice other little things as well. For example, Arthur likes to drape his brown leather jacket over the chair he uses in the kitchen, and it's not there.
Neither are the rest of his clothes, when Eames steels himself to return to the bedroom and check the closet. Going back to the kitchen, he sees the note held in place by one of the magnets Ariadne sent them as a flatwarming present
Sorry to leave like this, though I suppose you'll actually be relieved. I get that you didn't want anything serious, so more fool me for wanting more, even after I told myself I wouldn't. I've loved you for a long time, and they say that makes a man blind, so that's my only excuse. Maybe I'll see you around, maybe I won't. I trust we can work together if the situation calls for it, but otherwise, I don't plan on seeing you again.
There's no signature, but it's not as though Eames needs one to recognize Arthur's handwriting, or the bitterness written between the lines. Arthur's gone. He left, and based off this he isn't coming back. Eames thought the panic he felt last night was bad, but this... This is the worst he's ever felt, he can't even breathe.
~ ~ ~
He tries calling Cobb, first. All he gets is a clipped, “What makes you think I know where Arthur is?” before the line goes dead. Then he calls Yusuf, because he knows very well that Ariadne's staying with his chemist friend. How those two ended up together is a mystery, but then Eames supposes they probably say the same thing about him and Arthur. Said the same thing... Christ.
“What do you mean, he's gone? Eames, what did you do?” Ariadne says immediately.
“Why do you assume I did something?” Eames wants to know, even though of course he did. He's just wondering if it was that obvious to everyone but him.
“Because Arthur's been quietly miserable for months now, and apparently you never clued in. So. What did you do?”
“I...” Eames tells her about the fight, and he can hear her facepalming over the phone.
“Wow, you really are an asshole, aren't you? But if it's not serious, then why are you trying to find him? Why do you care?”
Eames scowls, even though Ariadne can't see it. “It is serious, for fuck's sake! I'm in love with him, that's bloody serious if you ask me!” He stops dead, shocked by his own admission. He can't believe he said it, but now that he has, he can't deny it. It's true, after all, though it's taken him till now to admit it even to himself.
On the other end, Ariadne sighs with exasperation. “And why are you telling me this and not Arthur? Why didn't you tell him already? He thinks you're just playing with him, that when you finally get bored you'll drop him without a second's thought.”
“I...”
“You know what, save it. I don't think I want to hear whatever ridiculous excuse you have, and if you are planning to track down Arthur, have a better explanation before you do.”
Eames is about to reply, but the dial tone beats him to it. He glowers at the phone, angry mostly because he can't deny that he probably deserved that. He knows Arthur and Ariadne are close, but how did she know Arthur was miserable and Eames didn't even notice?
Because you didn't want to notice, a nasty voice in the back of his mind says. He would really like to shut that voice up, but he can't. However, a momentary distraction arrives in the form of a ringing phone.
“Hello?”
“Eames, it's Cobb. I thought you might want to know, Arthur's first alias was Mark Cohen. He doesn't use it much anymore, so he probably never told you about it. I know you know his others, so he might be using that one right now.”
“Thanks, Cobb.”
“Don't thank me, just track him down and fix this.”
So, apparently Cobb had been aware of what was going on as well. That doesn't make Eames feel any better, but at least he has information now. And sure enough, a Mark Cohen left Heathrow Airport at three AM this morning. Christ, Arthur must really want to be away from him, and that stings a lot worse than he could have imagined.
Pushing the thought aside, he calls the airport to book a flight to Venice, which is where Arthur's gone.
~ ~ ~
He narrowly misses Arthur in Venice, the point man having taken a train to Florence by the time Eames' plane touches down. So he heads to Florence, only to find that Arthur's flown out again, this time to Cairo, of all places. He has no idea if there's any pattern to Arthur's traveling, but he follows just the same. He actually manages to get to Cairo while Arthur is still there - technically. He sees him in the airport, but Arthur boards his flight before Eames is even close enough to yell. He supposes he could have tried, just the same, but he's trying to get Arthur to forgive him. Causing a scene in the middle of Cairo International Airport is probably not the best way to do that.
Arthur's next stop is in Paris, and again, Eames almost catches up to him, if not for a sudden stream of tourists - he has no clue what country they're from, because they're chattering in a language he doesn't speak. Nor does he care, not when he can't find Arthur again once they've moved. By the time the name Mark Cohen reappears on travel notices, it's been a week and Eames has been looking all over Paris for the other man.
He has no idea why Arthur is visiting St. Petersburg, and he doesn't care, just gets on another plane. This time he misses the other man completely - Arthur's plane apparently had a stopover in Berlin and the man just got off there instead. From Berlin, he heads to the States, specifically Chicago. Eames follows him once again, only to find that Arthur's already left for St. Louis.
At this point, he's beginning to wonder if Arthur knows he's following and is just screwing with him, but he scours the unfamiliar city for his lover (former lover? Technically yes, but hopefully that isn't a permanent label) anyway. This time, when he doesn't manage it and gets back to his hotel to find that Arthur's caught a flight to Philadelphia, he almost chucks his laptop at the wall. But then he realizes - Arthur's in Philadelphia. Arthur hates Philadelphia, it's his hometown but his childhood sucked, and he doesn't like the memories that get dredged up when he goes back.
Eames books a flight, hoping that he can actually catch him this time.
~ ~ ~
Arthur's at the Italian Market, of all places, sitting at an outside table with a coffee in his hand from the coffeeshop Eames saw further down the street - it seemed to be half coffeeshop and half chocolatier, but that's hardly the point. The point is that Arthur's not running, and he certainly sees Eames coming. “You hate Philadelphia,” Eames says, because he can't think of anything else to say.
Arthur doesn't look at him, instead keeping his eyes on the people walking by. “Not so much anymore. I'm not sure there's any point to hating it. Have you been following me?”
“You mean you didn't know?” Eames asks, taking a seat at Arthur's table. It's very disconcerting, the fact that Arthur won't look at him.
“Well, I suspected, but I can't see why you would. Didn't I give you what you wanted already?” Arthur's voice is that same flat, dead tone that he'd used that night, and it's killing Eames to hear it.
“No, I... Arthur, please just look at me, will you?” He can't stand it, can't stand that Arthur won't even look at him. God, did he really hurt him this badly?
Arthur turns his head, and Eames can see that the other man's face is blank, his eyes tired. “What do you want from me, Eames? You're a free agent again, which you so clearly prefer, now can you please go away?”
“No, no I can't. Arthur...” He's not good at apologizing, he almost never does it. But sometimes there's nothing else to do, and he's in the wrong this time, well and truly. So... “I'm sorry, Arthur, I... It's not that I... God, I'm not used to this whole relationship lark, I'm used to no-strings sex, and so when it was more with you, I panicked. I don't know how to deal with anything else, so I acted like that's what was going on with us.”
“Well, now you won't have to worry about how to deal, because there's nothing to deal with.” Arthur stands up, and Eames grabs his wrist, desperate.
“Darling - Arthur, please, I love you, please don't tell me I left it too late. Just give me a chance, I won't... I'll...” Arthur hasn't turned back, he's still facing away from Eames and he so obviously doesn't care what his former lover has to say, because Eames really did fuck up beyond repair.
Except then Arthur does turn around. His voice is carefully even but there's something in his eyes that gives Eames just a little hope. “How can I believe that from you now?”
Eames stands up as well, looking Arthur right in the eyes even though the other man is slightly taller than he is. “Maybe you can't yet, but if you'll let me, I'm going to do everything I can to convince you.” He means it, because he can't lose Arthur. He sort of knew that before, but now, after all this, he really knows it. Not having Arthur in his life is unacceptable, therefore he has to make sure that doesn't happen.
Arthur says nothing for a long moment, just surveys Eames with guarded brown eyes. Then he sighs, raking his free hand through his ungelled hair. “I might be open to being convinced,” he says, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly.
Translation: Eames is not off the hook yet, but Arthur's giving him an opening. He's giving him a chance. And Eames isn't about to waste this one.