Work Text:
Arthur slumps in the rattan chair on their balcony in Paris, looking utterly defeated. He’s smoking, even though he quit a year ago.
“Darling?”
He thrusts a picture at Eames and looks away. It’s of Arthur and Mal in London, looking impossibly young and happy. “I’m losing pieces of her. I …” His voice hitches.
Eames waits.
“I remember her face, but the rest of her … what Dom saw … it’s wrong.” He sighs. “The real Mal slipped away and I didn’t even notice. Now all I can remember is what’s left in the photos.”
“You never got a chance to grieve her properly. Perhaps it’d help.”
“Everyone thinks I did it for Dom, but I did it for the kids. I did it for her.”
Eames squeezes Arthur’s shoulder.
The train to London only takes three hours. They visit the spot from the photo and Arthur drops a bouquet of lilies into the Thames, then they get heroically drunk on the rich Cabernets Mal loved.
Arthur tells him stories about what she’d been like before she met Cobb, and for the first time since he’s known Arthur, Eames sees him smile when he says her name.