057
Title: Lelow
Chapter: 3/?
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own Inception.
Pairing/Characters: Arthur/Eames, Phillipa, Mal, James, Cobb
Summary: In which Phillipa is upset, James plays with dominos, and Arthur is worried.
Author’s Note: Oh, self, why have you done this? This chapter is kind of uh...darker. No, it's not that chapter yet. That chapter should be the next one or the one after, I'm not sure yet. Anyway, thank you all for your lovely comments.
Previous Series: Yellow One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven
Previous Parts: 1 2
--
James pulls out the dominos while Arthur starts on dinner. He checks on the children once, when the apartment is silent except for the occasional crash of thunder. They’re in the living room, quietly setting up rows of dominos.
He’s almost done with the spaghetti when he hears the commotion. “No!” Phillipa yells. He drops the spoon and hurries into the living room. James is screaming, head thrown back, and chest heaving. There’s a red mark on his face not caused by tears. Phillipa hurls a domino tile across the room and it hits the wall with a ping. “No!” she screams again.
“Phillipa!” Arthur calls.
“You don’t do it like that!” James hollers. Phillipa kicks at the pile of tiles and they shoot off in different directions, knocking down the carefully aligned rows. “Uncle Arthur!” he bellows.
“Phillipa!” Arthur crosses the room and grabs her by the shoulders. She coughs and hiccups, tears streaming down her face. “What’re you doing?”
James grabs at the dominos and shoves them back into the box. “You aren’t allowed to play anymore,” he tells his sister. “You’re gonna go to jail!” He starts to reassemble the dominos. “I don’t like you anymore.”
“Please, I’m sorry!” she wails. Her body shudders with tears. Arthur stares at her, shocked. “Please.”
“It’s okay.” Arthur pulls Phillipa from the room and into the kitchen. She’s still crying as he picks her up and sets her on the counter. “What happened?” he murmurs.
“I don’t want to play dominos anymore,” is all she’ll say.
--
Dinner is strained.
He sits between the children, talks to each one individually. James glowers across the table as he eats garlic bread and spills tomato sauce on his shirt. Phillipa doesn’t speak. She keeps her eyes downcast and only eats a third of dinner before asking to be excused.
She disappears into the office. Arthur loads the dishwasher before checking on her as he gathers their pajamas and the forgotten bubble bath. She’s kneeling on the desk chair again, eyes and fingers roaming the collection of bright pictures on the wall. He coughs and her small shoulders tense.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs finally. Her head turns to look at him. “Are you mad?”
He takes a breath. “No,” he answers. “Why did you hit your brother?”
“He got me mad,” she says. Her hand wipes at tears and she sniffles. Her eyes don’t meet his though and he feels something pulling, some sense that she isn’t being as honest as she could be. “I’m sorry,” she repeats.
“It’s okay,” he tells her. He brushes her hair back and hesitates. “I’m going to give James his bath, then you. Calm down.”
She sniffles and nods. Arthur returns to the bathroom where he left James. He sits in the warm water while Arthur dumps bubbles in. James grins up at him, eyes bright. He seems to have forgotten about his sister’s tantrum. He makes vroom-vroom noises then and runs a Hot Wheels car around the lip of the tub.
After James is dried off and in his dinosaur pajamas it’s Phillipa’s turn. She strips and Arthur stares. Around her upper arm is a dark bruise. “Pip, what is this?” He trails his fingers over the mottled skin. Her eyes are dark when they meet his.
“Mommy gets mad sometimes,” she murmurs. “She got mad when Daddy wouldn’t listen to her. I wasn’t supposed to hear. Daddy got mad at her.”
“Phillipa-”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
--
James wants to hear The Cat in the Hat before bed. Phillipa retrieves the book and Arthur lies on the bed between them. James curls up against his arm while Phillipa stays distant but within eyesight of the pictures.
“Uncle Arthur,” James interrupts. Arthur pauses just as the Cat is bringing in the box with Thing One and Thing Two in it. He looks down at James’ blonde head. Phillipa slithers closer but the caterpillar still separates them. “What are these?” His fingers reach out, trail over the inside of Arthur’s wrist.
“Mommy and Daddy have them,” Phillipa adds.
“They’re from needles,” he replies finally. He clears his throat to begin reading again.
“Do they hurt?” Phillipa asks. She sits up and touches one of the track marks. “Why do you get shots down here?”
He sets the book down, turns his hands so that his wrists are facing up. “It’s for work,” he says slowly. “What do your parents say about them?”
James’ nose wrinkles in thought. “Daddy doesn’t talk about it. Mommy gets sad if I ask,” he answers.
Arthur nods and studies his arms. He tries to remember what they looked like before dream sharing became his profession. Phillipa’s fingers skim his skin, connect the marks together. “Mommy’s got a scar through three,” she whispers. “Daddy doesn’t like it.”
“Your mommy had an accident with a knife, that’s why,” Arthur replies. The words sound hollow even as he repeats them. “That’s why we’re always careful cutting things.”
“You get shots for work?” Phillipa persists. He can see the gears turning over behind her eyes.
“We test different medicinal drugs,” Arthur answers lightly. He watches her as she bites down on her thumb. He remembers that she kicked the habit years ago and starts to reprimand her, Mal always hated her having her thumb in her mouth. She looks small though, blonde hair still damp and shoulders hunched around her caterpillar that he stops himself.
James grows bored and lifts the book up. His curiosity has been assuaged for now. Phillipa’s eyes stay trained on the inside of his arms though as he holds the book, flips a page. James settles back, eyelids growing heavy. Phillipa’s eyes take on an eerie semblance of the looks he’s seen in Mal’s recently.
Subtly he pulls down his sleeves until they cover his wrists.