Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Eames, Arthur, or Inception (those belong to the genius Christopher Nolan). This angsty plot however, is all mine. Reviews make my world go round! Enjoy!

-Libby

tablecloth

Eames has been gone for six weeks. Time really has no meaning anymore. Without Eames, Arthur feels…lost. He feels like he is never going to find home again.

Inevitably, Eames shows up in Arthur's dreams.

Arthur thinks it's strange that Eames' projection changes every time. Arthur is always wearing the same black dress pants and light blue button-down. Eames on the other hand looks scruffier, as if he cares even less about his appearance than he used to. He's lost weight too, so much that if he wasn't a projection, Arthur might start to worry about him.

He watches Eames for a few minutes before joining him at the restaurant table. The dim lighting flickers; Arthur can make out soft jazz sounds from a band playing somewhere behind him.

If Eames is surprised to see him, it doesn't show on his face. Arthur does notice however, Eames hand clenches his wine glass tighter and his knuckles turn white.

"Back again?" The projection of Eames asks bitterly. His voice is rough and he looks like Hell.

"Evidently, you just can't leave me alone." Arthur says with a half grin. He looks into Eames' eyes and can't help but shiver when he sees the haunted look in the forger's blue-green eyes. "Why do you look so distressed to see me?" Arthur questions, taking a gulp of Eames' wine, and resting his hand on the table. The crisp white tablecloth should be starchy under his fingertips; Arthur doesn't notice.

Eames shakes his head as if trying to shake the image of Arthur out of his brain. Eames doesn't say a word, just reaches over and grasps Arthur's hand. He squeezes the soft flesh three times. One pulse per word, a silent 'I love you.' Arthur sees the pulses, but he doesn't feel anything.

"I don't understand why you keep showing up. Every time I think I've moved on, you come back here." Eames comments quietly. Arthur has a fleeting feeling that they've been here before.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asks as he starts to feel a wave of panic overtake him. "Why can't I feel the tablecloth? Why is your wine tasteless?" Arthur questions, the hairs on his arm prickling and his voice raising a few notches.

Eames catches his gaze, a sad sense of knowing in his eyes. "You died six weeks ago Luv." Arthur can't breathe.

"No, we were on a job and you got shot and I tried to protect you and you…you disappeared…" Arthur exclaims, trailing off when he sees Eames sadly shaking his head.

"No, Darling, that wasn't a job. We were mugged coming out of the theatre, and they shot you when you wouldn't give up your wallet." Eames shakes his head at the painful memory, a single tear sliding down his cheek. Arthur feels like he's drowning as Eames starts to slowly fade from view. "I'm so sorry," Eames says reaching again for Arthur's hand. He doesn't understand why his subconscious keeps torturing him like this, bringing Arthur back, only to steal him away.

Arthur glances down and sees a hole the size of a bullet in the middle of his dress shirt. His eyes finally reflect his understanding; it takes everything Eames has not to close his eyes and shut Arthur out. Just as suddenly as he appeared, Arthur is gone.

Eames wakes up slowly in his bed; his guilt is a palpable presence in the room. He walks to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Eames gently traces the stubble across his chin. The haunted look in his eyes goes on forever.

-End-

:'( sorry for the angst!