Fic: A Father's Promise
A Father's Promise
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Disclaimer: Fiction based on fictional characters.
Summary: Arthur is dead and Eames seeks out to avenge his death.
A Father's Promise II
Eames didn't need the detectives to tell him what he had suspected all along. He didn't them to tell him that Arthur's killer was most likely someone he knew, someone he trusted.
"There was no sign of forced entry," lead Detective Hanson stated the obvious. Eames wasn't a fan of Hanson, who on the very first day, hauled Eames roughly back to the station, citing that the significant other was automatically considered a person of interest in all murder cases such as this.
Eames rolled his eyes and nodded, agreeing. In fact the apartment was locked when Eames entered. He had to use his key to gain entry, which meant one of two things. Either the perpetrator had a key to his apartment or that Arthur had opened the door to his killer, locking it behind him.
"The victim was raped. He was stabbed multiple times. He was strangled. Seems like a crime of passion if you ask me," Hanson's partner, Detective Winters, mused.
"With his belt," Eames countered, "which means that it wasn't on an intimate level."
Eames shook his head, giving them a smug look. He really didn't need to be doing the investigative work of the elite Special Victims Unit of the New York City Police Department. As he sat listening to the detectives' grisly findings, Eames stared aimlessly at the falling snow on the sidewalks of New York City while formulating the list of potential suspects for Arthur's murderer. When the detectives finally revealed the last bit of evidence, Eames smiled and thanked them.
"Thank you," Eames murmured.
"No problem," Detective Winters said. "I know it must be hard to come home finally after three months away on a job to find your lover murdered in the way he was. I assure you that we'll do everything to bring his killer to justice. We'll keep you posted, Mr. Eames, when the toxicology and DNA reports return."
"Thank you," Eames repeated, ushering them out of Arthur's brownstone.
Once the door was closed, Eames strutted into Arthur's bedroom, where he had already hung a map of the world with push pins representing the residences of all of Arthur's acquaintances. Since Arthur's death, forty-eight hours ago, Eames hadn't slept. Every time he would close his eyes to sleep, he would always see Arthur struggling to breathe against the plastic bag over his head. And every time he was reminded about Arthur's tortured death whether it was via the detectives' reports or through Eame's tear-filled eyes, the anger in Eames' rose further, fueling his hunger for vengeance.
Yes, Eames didn't need Hanson and Winters to tell him what he had already suspected. Their confirmation, however, was justification for the fury he was about to unleash on his unsuspecting former colleagues.
From Rio de Janiro to Seattle to Kenya, Eames tracked down every one of Arthur's contacts. He paid the men and women a visit, beating the shit out of them when they refused to provide any morsel tidbit about Arthur's death. As far as Eames was concerned, if they weren't willing to divulge information, they might as well as be guilty. Regardless of what they would tell him in their futile attempt to escape his wrath, Eames knew that everyone knew something about Arthur's death and he was purposely kept in the dark by those in Arthur's inner circles after all the illegal dream sharing world was the tightest knit group of people that Eames had never belonged.
By the time his whirl wind world trip landed him in Europe, it was Miles, who came to see him, and not the other way around. Miles, now bound to a wheelchair with an oxygen tank at his side after receiving a diagnosis of lung cancer five months ago, rolled into Eames' hotel room.
"We need to talk," Miles said.
Eames nodded and closed the door behind Miles.
"What the hell are you doing, son?" Miles asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Miles?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Miles responded. "Therese Holman is in a coma after your visit with her. And she's not the only one. Please, I'm begging you. Just let it go, Eames. Respect Arthur's wishes and let it go."
"I can't, Miles. If only you could see Arthur when I found him."
"We all heard about the news."
"This is what nightmares are made of."
"But do you really think Arthur wants you to avenge his death?"
"It's not his call to make anymore," Eames mumbled under his breath. "He's not the one suffering. I am."
"Eames," Miles whispered, grabbing onto Eames' arm, "No one's doubting your pain, but you can't go on like this. I know for a fact that Arthur wouldn't want you to live your life like this- to have your life be consumed by his death. That's not what he wished for you."
"You sound so sure, Miles," Eames murmured- his eyes suddenly becoming dark beyond their depths. Miles let go of Eames' arm and lowered his eyes to the floor. "Are you hiding something that I should know?"
Miles laughed and shook his head. "What? Are you going to take my oxygen tank and beat me with it?"
"Only if you don't tell me everything you know," Eames seethed.
"Lord, have mercy upon-" Miles managed to say before he was met Eames' fist to the side of his head. As Miles lay on the luxurious Berber carpet, he prayed that Eames would find peace before death becomes him. He truly believed that Arthur was lucky to have found love in Eames. He just wished they would be able to grow old together. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Just like Mal and Dom couldn't grow old together, but only in their dreams.
Closing Notes: To read all my fics including this one and other Inception Slash stories, visit Aphrodite's Labyrinth. There you'll also find stories inspired by the sparkly boys of 'Nsync like the classic, "A Tale of Two of Boybands", first archived here a decade ago, and some stories inspired by my current muse, Jason Castro. For a complete collection of Jason Castro slash, vist my author's page at Castrofics.