"Ah," Yusuf says, lifting a reproving hand, "are we calling less than 24 hours of memory loss amnesia now?"
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"Ah," Yusuf says, lifting a reproving hand, "are we calling less than 24 hours of memory loss amnesia now?"
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Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 4650 Warnings/Contains: copious amounts of alcohol, drunken shenanigans, mild angst Summary: A forger and a point man walk into a bar. (A fic in 5 parts)
Limbo fic words: 3267
There is a red die in his pocket, and a knife tucked into the back of his pants, and a note in his hand, paper folded and folded and folded again. I will find you, it says.
--
he reaches up a tentative hand and Arthur sees his own name imprinted there, in the palm, the typeset reminiscent of the dictionary he'd had so long ago. Like he's carried it so long the ink has bled into his flesh and he didn't know his own name and--
"Arthur?" he says, and he touches Arthur's face, and there is a fog that is clearing that he hadn't even known was there.
That's the thing about Hollywood--everyone has a Hollywood story.
The fic with Arthur, the producer that made Eames an actor, Dom, the maniac ex-druggie, and a lot of pining (with a kind of rushed ending).