Ships Passing [12] for Artful

[bamf_pointman]

Getting shot right after the New Year during a, what seemed to be, routine job hadn't been on his list of 'New Year Resolutions'.

In fact, not getting shot during a job was definitely somewhere on that list. It wasn't as though a job turning sour was common because it wasn't. Normally Arthur worked the jobs where he wasn't likely to get shot, due to how in demand his time could be now that they had completed Inception. Still, anything that dealt with the criminal world had the possibility of going sour simply due to the nature of the beast.

Arthur had gotten out of Paris as quick as he could after packing what essentials he needed and sending the brief text to Eames as soon as he managed to find a burner phone. He had quickly gotten rid of that phone as well and made his way to Germany where he'd sent Eames coordinates to.

He'd managed to only patch the wound up enough that blood didn't soak through his shirt during the train ride from Paris to Berlin. After all, there was nothing subtle about bleeding on a train from a bullet wound. Thankfully, the bullet hadn't hit anything major but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Which was why, after getting in town and stocking up on first aid supplies, Arthur was standing in front of the mirror with tweezers, a bottle of whiskey and gauze. His soiled shirt currently strewn into the tub, waiting to be burned.

He was waiting for his hands to stop shaking (probably due to the adrenaline and slight blood loss) so he could get on with it when he heard a rather loud knock on the door. "Fuck," he growled, hoping it wasn't some nosy neighbor. Doubtful as most of his neighbors didn't exactly know him from Adam. Which was exactly what he preferred.

Arthur's pants rode low on his hips as he threw on a cleaner shirt. Hopefully the blood wouldn't show in the time it took to get rid of whoever it was at the door. It was only after he checked the peep hole that he exhaled a slow breath and unlocked the double lock then opened the door.

"It's damn good to see you."

Comments

[artfulforger]

That text, with the name used, it left Eames in a panic. He didn't even finish the job. Faking a supposed stalker that was going to ruin it all, he got onto the first plane he could. The flight left him in a panic, not able to do anything while he was on the plane and hating that. Hating the panic it left coursing through him.

Practically running from the plane to get in a cab, foot tapping and leg shaking as he counted the seconds until he got to the coordinates Arthur had sent him.

Up the stairs, and to the room, tapping on the door and then stepping back so he knew he'd be seen.

"Better to see you," he said, not hiding his panic. "So, Evan," he said, already moving to step into the room. "What happened? How bad is it? How much of your history are we burning" Asked without thinking about how bad this was.

[bamf_pointman]

Arthur took the moment to shut the door behind him and lock it before answering the question. "Our god damn extractor double crossed the team. The mark didn't take kindly - and who the fuck would - and got his buddies to try and take everyone out," he said, looking at the forger. He hated that he had left Eames in a panic but he felt the man had a right to know. It hadn't even crossed his mind that he wouldn't tell him - not after all they've been through.

"Just bad enough that I won't be visiting France for at least... a year? Two at most," he growled in frustration, his hand moving to his side where the wound was. "We'll have to burn the Brendan Samson front. Which is a damn shame, I liked that apartment." It was too risky leaving it up to chance.

He paused a moment. "I do need your help though. I didn't get a chance..." He hadn't even mentioned it in the text to Eames because honestly? How do you say something like that through text? Arthur exhaled a breath, shaky at best and lifted the shirt up to show him the wound which was angry looking.

[artfulforger]

"Did they get the extractor?" Because in Eames mind, that mattered. He was already a traitor, they couldn't leave someone out there knowing who Arthur was, even by an alias. "Did the buddies see you? Did you stop them? If not, we need to make sure someone catches them before they speak of you," he said.

All business for Eames meant clearing the path for them. Making sure their life was safe, and that meant tying up any ends that needed to be, and any bridges that needed to be burnt.

"I can take care of that. I have a man in France. Controlled enough we may actually burn it," he admitted, figuring a corpse in a fire was the safest. No records to follow.

"Shit. Fucking hell. Where's your medical kit? Get the shirt off and get on a chair." He was pissed and it showed on his face, the redness there and the anger.

[bamf_pointman]

"They got the extractor and I got the buddies," he said, knowing later he would feel worse about that. As it stood, it was either him or them and he was just selfish enough to think about himself than them. Besides, it was self defense as far as he was concerned. It was, during that point, that he was shot. He wasn't about to leave any traces of himself, alias or not.

He appreciated that Eames was thorough of everything he did, especially when it came to this.

Arthur nodded. "Burn it," he said. "I got everything out that meant something to me."

"Bathroom. I was just about to get the bullet out when you knocked," he said, walking over to a bar stool and removing the shirt he'd tossed on. "Bring the whiskey while you're there." Had Eames arrived any later, he'd have done it already.

[artfulforger]

He nodded, knowing that Arthur would have even left until things were handled. He wouldn't trust many others to take care of things for him, after all, and Eames couldn't blame him.

Grabbing the whiskey off the bar, not bothering with glasses as he headed for the bathroom even as he pulled out a burner phone.

"Franc? Hey, it's Tony," he said, easily slipping into a slight French accent as if he had been practicing his American for a while. "I'm going to text you an address. I need it be flambe'd. Yes. Oui. Yes. Stop that," he said, all flirt and tease. "You make me blush. Oui. Soon."

He handed the phone to Arthur. "Send the coordinates to the number I just called and the pull the card," he said, setting the bottle down beside him.

"If you puke on me, I'll cry," he added, trying to make him laugh. The world had gone to hell. Arthur needed humor.

[bamf_pointman]

There were only a couple of people Arthur trusted to take care of things for him and one of those people were in that flat with him. He listened to Eames' side of the conversation and felt his mouth tug up into an amused smile. He knew the difference between Eames' actual flirty voice and a front. At least by now he did.

Arthur took the phone from him, texted the coordinates to the apartment then pulled the card from the phone. He chuckled with a small groan before giving the forger a look. He appreciated the humor though, the urge to make him laugh. "No promises," he said with a wry look before picking up the bottle, opening it and taking a drink. "Your hands will be steadier than mine are right now, I assure you of that." He paused and looked at him. "I appreciate it, you know," he said, seriously.

After all this time, he didn't trust people easily. The only one, other than himself, that he gave any measure of trust to was Eames. It was why he allowed himself to be so open with him - in and out of the bedroom.

[artfulforger]

Arthur knew Eames better than anyone. Absolutely better than anyone else. It was frightening on so many levels, scary to know none that well, and yet he wouldn't want it to be any other way. He wanted all that they shared, even if it was the dark and the bad. Like this.

His fingers brushed against Arthur's shoulder before he reached for the alcohol, medical not and not liquor. "I know you do, and you know I'll always be here," he said, tones hard and serious and the absolute truth.

"I won't lie. We both know this is going to hurt. Please, know. I'm not trying to hurt you." He didn't want to, but it would get worse if he didn't do this now. "Lean over a bit so I can clean the wound."

[bamf_pointman]

Arthur nodded, having had no doubt about that whatsoever. "I know," he said, looking at him.

"Oh, before you start, will you go grab a belt for me from the room or give me yours? I rather not bite down on my lip if I can help it." Or his tongue or any other part of his mouth. It was better safe than sorry if you asked him. He was already in some pain. He didn't need to add onto that.

"Just get it over quickly," he said, looking at him before doing as Eames asked. It was going to burn and hurt like hell but he couldn't leave it in and at least having the second set of hands here would make it go quicker. At least that was the hope.

[artfulforger]

Eames nodded, setting down the bottle of alcohol he was going to pour over it with a nod. Unbuckling his belt, he pulled it off carefully not to hit either of them with it before handing the leather to Arthur.

"You need me to stop, say so. You can have breaks, but that's it. We're going to make sure this is done and take care of you." In the end that would be the most important thing, to make sure that Arthur was well taken care of in all of this and was able to heal.

"I will do it as quick as I can, and make sure it's clean." He wouldn't rush it and risk a bad job or scars later, but he wouldn't drag this out and hurt Arthur more than he had to. "Say it when you're ready."

[bamf_pointman]

Arthur couldn't help but watch Eames' movements as he undid his belt. Any other day and Arthur would love the sight before him. With the amount of pain his was in now, his libido was on the back burner. He nodded in response to Eames' words and took the leather from him. Truly, he appreciated the care Eames was taking for him. Normally, Arthur was left to his own hands and skills to stitch himself up. It was nice to have someone else there this time.

He placed the belt in his mouth then gave Eames a nod, letting him know he was ready.

[artfulforger]

It was a familiar motion, yet never in a situation like this. Not when his panic was over weighing everything else between them. It wouldn't matter how sexy the motion could be if Arthur got sick. His health mattered more than anything.

Getting the needle ready, he poured alcohol over the needle to ensure it was truly disinfected. Infection might still happen, but they would do the best they could.

"We can get you antibiotics later. I know a person that can get it for me." A nurse he'd spent time with, but thankfully parted from on good terms.

Taking a breath, he put the needle to skin and pushed through for the first stitch.

[bamf_pointman]

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Arthur focused his breathing as he waited for the first push of the needle. His hands clenched on the counter as Eames worked on the wood. He would respond about the antibiotics but he was focusing right now on simply breathing and biting as hard as he can on the belt.

Getting stitches without a numbing agent always sucked but he had to say, Eames was efficient (as always).

In.

Out.

He would not pass out just yet. Later. Much later. After the pills. And more whiskey.

[artfulforger]

They both kept the same laser focus. Not on the skin, the pain, the blood. Just on each in and out stroke of the needle as it pierced skin. Just focusing on the way the thread closed the skin, saving Arthur's life and maybe, just maybe, leaving the tiniest of scars. No, likely a decent one, but Eames was trying.

"I promise I won't mock you if you pass out," he murmured in a low voice, trying to distract Arthur as best he could.

Ahaha and we'll just say they got the bullet out because... yeah. I kind of forgot that part. :D

[bamf_pointman]

Despite having done this a few times on himself and others, it didn't get any easier or any less painful. It didn't matter at this point if it scarred. It was what it was and when you get shot? You prepare for a scar.

His mouth twitched as Eames promised to not mock him should he passed out. He would have responded had there not been a belt in his mouth but rest assure, he had retorts.

Considering how his hands and shook before answering that door, it would have been ten times harder to do this himself. Though, he would have gotten it done. Just would have taken much longer.

through and through lol?

[artfulforger]

Eames was glad his hands weren't shaking. Glad he could do this without drawing back when Arthur flinched. He hated hurting him, because no matter what they've been through, he never wanted him harmed.

Especially not at his hands.

So he worked carefully until both sides were secured, closed, but with a tiny spot for drainage, to hope that it healed from the inside out and never developed an infection.