Fic: Black Moon Chapter 8 (Arthur/Eames)
Title:"Black Moon"
Rating: R
Summary: Written for the inception_kink meme prompt: "Touch deprivation. Arthur is deprived of touch, Eames starts touching him all the time. Arthur doesn't understand why he allows it, or why he secretly even likes/needs it." This gives us Arthur's back story moving to Inception and past that as he battles OCD and touch deprivation and eventually Eames helping him. Slow building A/E.
Word Count: 5,898
Notes: I own nothing
Sorry for the long wait on the new chapter! Updates should be quicker from now on!
The title of this chapter comes from a line from the Gorillaz song: “Bill Murray” .
Please don’t forget to comment! :)
Chapter 8
Too Many Days to Get Lost
They stand huddled together awkwardly. Mr. Cobb is relaying the plan but Arthur’s only half listening. The whole situation, his life is hard to swallow as of late.
He was waiting to wake up. The same feeling coming over him when he was trapped in the prison cell. He wanted to reach for his gun, pull the trigger and wake up.
“Did you ever have a dream that you thought was so real that even after you woke up you still felt like you were in it?”
“It’s an odd feeling, like you’re moving between two worlds…”
He shook his head slightly to rid himself of the thoughts. He couldn't think about him, about how he left, the kiss they shared in the dream. He closed his eyes. He was a fool.
Mr. Cobb is still speaking and Arthur nods his head in understanding every once in a while but he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand anything.
"Kiss your military life goodbye."
The stress was overwhelming, he felt the familiar feeling of his body taking over without his control.
It's the obsessions and compulsions. It's like he’s too big for his own body. He feels stuffed into something too small for him. And then Mr. Cobb is telling him where to meet him later, telling him to go pack his stuff up. He walks numbly back to his barracks for the last time.
He paces around the room a little taking in everything familiar knowing that once he steps out outside everything will change and be anything but familiar. He's going to be walking away from everything with order. Everything routine and set. He touches the walls faintly in a "goodbye".
After he undressed and removed his gun he put on his only civilian clothes-a dark green t-shirt and khaki pants. It feels wrong.
He fingers his dog tags and he numbly slips them from around his neck. He traces his fingers over the imprinted name and numbers, flipping it over in his hands, wondering if he’ll be losing a part of himself now that he won’t be wearing them. He thinks about tossing them but pockets them instead. He wants to keep a reminder, a reminder of the life he once had. He was a Corporal, a leader of men, one of the first involved in a new and exciting technology full of endless possibilities-the dream sharing.
He was part of something big, something new and now...And now he was no longer any of those things.
He was just Arthur Marek: 21 year old running from his past and pathetically running to his father or at least trying to. By leaving he was going to lose a part of himself and he really did not want to get lost. The unknown always lead to a dark place full of memories, obsessions, compulsions and the “other thing”. He was also afraid of what he may gain as well.
He was sitting tying his shoes when the compulsion decided to take over. He couldn't get up until he tied it correctly or something bad would happen to him. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, bent over, tying and retying. His back and fingers started to ache and it became increasingly harder to concentrate.
He tried so hard to use the techniques that he learned from Dr. Trollsund but it was like cutting through a dense fog, a black veil over his thoughts. He tried to focus on why he felt he needed to do it and gradually though he isn’t sure how much time passes he’s able to loosen his grip on the tied laces.
He only gets up from his chair when he hears someone enter. Arthur starts moving numbly around the barracks and packs his things. He doesn’t have much. He never has.
___________
He slips out when it’s pitch black and way after “lights out”. It’s late. Most of the officers, personnel and soldiers are asleep, blissfully unaware. The October air is crisp and cool and his bare arms break out in goose pimples immediately when he steps outside to meet it. He’s not sure if it’s from the air or the sense of foreboding he’s getting.
He looks around faintly, pathetically trying to absorb his surroundings, locking it away in his mind for later. He wants to be able to remember it-how Fort Irwin looks tiny and vulnerable in the faint moon’s glow, the sleeping soldiers tucked away in their bunks, totally oblivious. The way the grass is dying and turning brown under his feet, crunching slightly under his boots. The fences, repetitive buildings of the same size and bland color, the tanks, the humvees, the helicopters, the training fields, the mountains that he knows are normally visible in the horizon, the dry and dusty dirt, the rocks and tumble weeds. He’s not sure what path is before him but he wants to remember all these things, the predictable life he used to have. Life could be worse. It could always be worse he reminds himself. It’s something that Dr. Trollsund has helped him discover and admit over the years but he still needed to say these things.
But he killed her. He couldn't bury that in a life regimented, controlled and picked out for him anymore. Could he forget her in dreaming?
Since the Sergeant left the new Sergeant, Sergeant Aaron, was the one overseeing the dream sharing training and responsible for the dream sharing machine. It worked to Arthur’s and Mr. Cobb's advantage because Sergeant Aaron had just come on board and didn't have an office set up just yet. Which meant that the device was being held in the training facility building which was much easier to break into according to Mr. Cobb because of its location.
Arthur and Mr. Cobb had certain clearance for certain things. Arthur had more clearance because he was a Corporal. The way they were breaking in would be similar to when they broke into the mess hall after hours. Arthur would be the lookout and run interference if necessary while Mr. Cobb would break into the building. Both of them would help disassemble and pack up the intricate and heavy device. What happened after that Arthur wasn’t so sure.
They were outside huddled around the back of the training facility building.
"What do we do once we have it?"
"I'm having someone pick us up."
"Oh."
Arthur should have thought of that but he was feeling like his world was turned upside down and biting back the obsessions and compulsions was getting increasingly harder. He was going AWOL. He was a deserter. Once he chose this he could never come back. But again he didn’t have a choice. If he had any hope of accomplishing what his father wanted and having him forgive him for killing his mother then he had to do it.
Arthur stood watch as Mr. Cobb picked the lock. They both slipped inside. After securing the door Mr. Cobb moved swiftly and set down the big duffel bag he was carrying, unzipping it a second later and tossing something to Arthur. Arthur catches it and holds up a guard uniform including hat. Mr. Cobb is already putting his on, stuffing his other clothes into his duffel bag.
Arthur dons the uniform quickly stuffing his own clothes in his bag and they set about carefully disassembling the large machine. The machine isn’t easily portable and it makes Arthur wonder what Mr. Cobb has in store for the dream sharing, remembering their late night conversation in the mess hall about how Mr. Cobb felt they hadn’t tapped into the technology’s true potential.
Arthur takes in the dark room as they work, letting his eyes wander. He’s spent a lot of intimate time inside these walls-running drills with his squad, preparing for battle and testing out the dream sharing machine. He’s spooling wires around his wrist when his eye catches some chairs pushed up against the far wall. He thinks they look familiar and something in his brain tingles. He shrugs it off. Of course they look familiar he’s been in this building countless times. The odd feeling doesn’t leave however and he keeps picturing a hand in his as he sits in one of those chairs. He shakes his head. Impossible.
“Did you ever have a dream that you thought was so real that even after you woke up you still felt like you were in it?”
They pack away the machine into the bags Mr. Cobb brought and the older man flashes him a look after they finished. Arthur meets it head on.
“Now what?”
“Now, Arthur, we leave.”
Arthur bristles at the casual use of his name and wants to open his mouth to protest, to correct him but he bites it back. He remembers at the last minute that he no longer is a Corporal. That identity is long gone now, buried and sealed away inside the walls that surround him.
Arthur knows that phase two of the plan involves some kind of decoy or distraction being played out in the base so Arthur and Mr. Cobb can slip out as inconspicuously as possible.
Arthur hears it before he sees it-the distant sound of alarm bells blaring and the distinct sounds of a distant fire erupting, angrily eating away at the surroundings, cracking and spitting. He turns to the sound and sees dark smoke curling impossibly upwards and distant flames rising to the sky like an offering coming from the direction of some buildings that are used for storage. Arthur notices Mr. Cobb is nodding and smiling faintly. His normally steely blue eyes are now orange, flames dancing wildly off of them.
“I set the timer to go off in one of the storage buildings. I guess I timed it pretty well. We gotta keep moving.”
Arthur can’t keep his eyes off the rising flames. His head is bent, looking over his shoulder as they sky turns different shades of red and orange as they walk quickly away from the training facility building, heavy bags hanging from their shoulders like constant reminders of the path they’ve chosen.
Officers, guards, and soldiers rush past them to presumably help fight the fire that Mr. Cobb has caused. The two men keep their heads down, lowering their caps over their eyes as they breathe in smoke that has blanketed the base. The air smells and tastes heavily like burned wood and ash.
They stop at the high metal fence-the only barrier between them and the outside world. Arthur glances over his shoulder one more time, smoke and ash heavy in his lungs and nose, his breathing and heart beat rapid. He sees the flames, now seeming tiny in the horizon and again he gets a strange tingling in his brain. He sees a flash of a small country home with green, lush, rolling hills all around. He’s touching peeling wallpaper and chipped paint on the walls as he moves around the small house with buckling wood floors and thread bare carpet. The small house erupts into flames and suddenly he’s outside in the back yard watching as smoke pools out of broken windows pluming up into the dusk sky. But it isn’t his house. His house was large, set high on the cliffs near the green ocean. But still he watches. The ash that rains down suddenly turns to white feathers. He cranes his neck impossibly upwards as the small, light things tickle and dance on his face. He’s only aware someone is next to him when he hears what he thinks is a familiar voice.
“I did this.”
The person’s face is obscured by the millions of feathers raining down from the sky, blanketing the soft grass like snow, almost drowning out their voice. Arthur watches the white feathers fall into the rising flames. They curl, bubble and turn black. The feathers cover everything, creating a whiteout. Arthur is almost afraid he’ll get swallowed up in it just like the feathers in the flames.
“I know,” Arthur says but his voice seems small-the feathers wanting to enter inside. The whole world becomes obscured and turns white.
“Arthur,” there’s a light hand on his shoulder and Arthur whips his head around to the direction of the touch, his body feeling like it’s been electro shocked, his breath catching in his smoky throat. He shudders and fights the reflex to close his eyes. The world is familiarly black and cold again not white and hot from flames.
Mr. Cobb is staring at him. His brilliant, passionate blue eyes are burning just as intensely as the flames. He releases his hand from Arthur’s trembling shoulder. Arthur finally feels like he can breathe, his mind has stopped spinning and he’s brought back down to earth.
“We gotta go,” Mr. Cobb jerks his head to the gap that’s been cut at the bottom of the fence. It’s just big enough for a man to squeeze through. Arthur nods curtly, desperately trying to shake out the thoughts that gripped his mind seconds ago. It feels like there are feathers still in his head making him feel drowsy and light. He feels bewildered and slow from shock. His movements are sloppy and sluggish like a toddler as he pathetically crawls under the fence-it scratching and catching on his uniform, cold metal digging into his skin uncomfortably. He numbly takes the bags that Mr. Cobb pushes through. Mr. Cobb shoots a look over his shoulder, one last cautious glance and then dives under the fence a second later.
Mr. Cobb has to practically throw the bag at Arthur and push him along to keep moving. Arthur is still in a daze. His head is full of feathers, familiar words, flames, black and white and the endless, unknown road that’s before him.
___________
They walk hurriedly down the dark dirt road, Arthur having to be pushed and prodded along way. Arthur is faintly aware that it’s an access road used by trucks for deliveries and things on the opposite end of the main entrance to the base. They walk in silence for a time, moving in a direction away from the main entrance, the moon and still night their only companions.
Arthur can only hear his boots shuffling over dry dirt and small rocks, his heavy breath and the wind in the barren branches of the trees. Arthur isn’t sure how long they walk. It could be a long or short distance. By the time he spies the van that’s presumably waiting for them the sun is just coming up, dusting the sky with faint oranges, purples and reds, the mountains in the horizon becoming visible like they’re coming out of a deep sleep.
Mr. Cobb takes the bag from Arthur’s slack grip and loads them into the back. Arthur climbs into the van feeling like he’s part of the device that’s tucked away and hidden safely in the confines of the bags and car. The driver peers over his shoulder and blinks at Arthur, looking him over curiously. He’s around the same age as Mr. Cobb with inquisitive, intelligent yet bored eyes. He seems put out and releases a huff before whipping his head back and starting the engine. Mr. Cobb climbs into the van taking a seat next to Arthur to his surprise and suddenly Arthur is very tired. Getting no sleep, the adrenaline rush wearing off, the alarming day dream and losing part of if not all of his identity catches up with him.
They take off down the road, entering the highway a short time later. Mr. Cobb is talking to the driver, giving instructions but Arthur doesn’t pay attention to what they’re saying. He watches the sun come up, ghosting his fingers around the dog tags still in his pocket, sleep tugging at his eyes.
Something lands in his lap breaking him out of his stupor. It’s a passport. He opens it and looks it over with bleary vision. He shoots the deadly consultant turned thief a look.
“Carlos Domingo?”
Mr. Cobb’s attention is on his window and the passing scenery in the faint morning light. He bites his lip like he’s trying to contain a smile or laugh and he shrugs.
“It’s the best I could come up with in such short time.”
Arthur stares at the picture on the passport. It’s a picture from his later high school days maybe even for the yearbook. He never really had his picture taken much at all. He feels the beginnings of bewilderment again as he has no idea how Mr. Cobb would have gotten a hold of the picture and maybe he doesn’t want to know. He traces a thumb over the passport it making the situation more real. He really has left his former life and is starting a new one.
He lets his head sink further back into the headrest, eyes closed, weariness taking over.
“…Can sleep until we get to the airport if you like? We’ll have to change out of these clothes…”Mr. Cobb’s words fade in and out. He’s only left feeling like he’s been stolen just like the dream sharing machine as he succumbs to familiar blackness.
___________
He feels sudden movement that makes him jerk forwards in his seat, rattling him awake. His head snaps up and he’s discombobulated. He momentarily forgets where he is as he blinks awake. The stranger in the driver’s seat is smirking at him. Mr. Cobb berates the stranger, telling him it isn’t funny. Arthur takes in the surroundings through his window and sees they're in a parking garage. He turns to Mr. Cobb who flashes him that dazzling smile.
“We’re here.”
They change quickly in the van. The driver drums the steering wheel impatiently; grating on Arthur’s already frayed nerves. Mr. Cobb gives them a hurried introduction: “Arthur, this is my associate and sometimes acting Architect Russell. Russell this is our…new team member Arthur.” The driver, Russell, gives Arthur a little half salute, a smug smile on his lips. “Pleasure,” he drawls out and Arthur notes the British accent.
“Architect?” Arthur squeaks out mystified as Mr. Cobb slides open the van door, climbing out. He hears the back doors being opened. The driver regards him coolly. “You know with buildings, schematics, and floor plans and such?” He twirls his fingers absentmindedly and there’s a mock in his English drawl. Arthur unbuckles his seatbelt with fumbling fingers, heavy confusion still consuming his mind.
He meets Mr. Cobb and Russell around the back of the van. Mr. Cobb hands them both a duffel bag and relays what has to be part of the plan to Russell in hushed tones, something about the bags are going to be picked up by his inside guy in baggage claim once they are checked.
And then Arthur is hurried inside almost rudely as he apparently wasn’t moving fast enough for the two older men. He hadn’t been in an airport for a while. He hadn’t taken a leave and gone home to see Dr. Trollsund in almost a year. The thought pains him. He goes through the motions however, sometimes being guided by Mr. Cobb. He flashes his fake passport and no one questions Mr. Carlos Domingo.
“Have a safe and pleasurable flight to Paris Mr. Domingo,” the attendant smiles sweetly and hands him back his ticket and passport. Arthur can only blink and nod at her, numbly taking the items.
When they’re safely out of earshot and while they’re walking to their gate Arthur chances his question:
“Paris?”
Mr. Cobb is hiding a smile again. Russell takes it upon himself to answer. “Base of operations for right now. That and his tart is there waiting for him,” he jerks a thumb at an almost blushing Mr. Cobb. Mr. Cobb shakes his head a little, a smile threatening to spill over and looks away.
Everything goes smoothly and he notes how well oiled machines Russell and Mr. Cobb are like they’ve done this a million times, nothing phasing them, almost looking bored like they’ve stolen countless expensive and top secret things from the military before.
When they board the plane Mr. Cobb takes the aisle seat next to Arthur, Russell in the row ahead of them.
“Figured you’d want to sleep. It’s a long flight.” Arthur wants to do anything but. His mind is buzzing, a million questions on his tongue. The main one being: “Who am I now?”
Sleep finds him anyway after he gets bored of reading the in-flight magazines and listening to the din of people’s voices and the soft drone of the airplane noises. He knows he always dreams of things that have already happened to him, his unoriginal and rigid mind not allowing the fanciful to stream through. So why does he dream of a small country home set in the rolling green hills and white feathers falling from the sky?
___________
He sleeps during most of the flight. The strange dream rattles him, grips him even when he’s awake. It feels so real, so visceral.
“Did you ever have a dream that you thought was so real that even after you woke up you still felt like you were in it?”
“It’s an odd feeling, like you’re moving between two worlds…”
He does feel like he’s still in it, moving between two worlds watching the small country home burst into flames-the heat and feathers on his face, the stranger at his side. And fuck, Arthur doesn’t want to think about the Sergeant. The Sergeant with his hard set yet sad eyes as he walks briskly out of the hospital room after their blowup. How he observed him from afar walking away, out of Fort Irwin, out of his life, getting into a car and driving away just like his father. He had called him a coward but Arthur knew deep down that they both were. Arthur was always running away. Now he was running to something and he had no idea what that was.
Arthur had done a tour in Afghanistan not liking the international travel and all that came with it. When they land after their connecting flight, safely picking up their checked bags and trying to navigate out of the airport he’s reminded again of why he swore he wouldn’t travel internationally again unless he had to. Every place is flooded with people, too many people-bodies that rudely jostle and bump into him. For a person who’s not used to being touched it’s an absolute nightmare. He feels like his deceased mother-that everyone is unclean as he feels hot, sweaty, smelly bodies brushing his. His personal space is invaded, his feet stepped on, odds looks shot his way because of his shaved head and two older “body guard” companions. He feels he can’t breathe and the obsessions and compulsions are bubbling up, threatening to overtake him.
Somehow, seemingly magically, they make it outside to join the taxi cue. Arthur inhales fresh, clean air deeply. Russell claps him on the back sucking that air right out a second later. “A little green around the edges as far as traveling are we?” Arthur can see Mr. Cobb shoot Russell a look from the corner of his eye. He hears them bickering a few seconds later as Arthur pathetically tries to regain his breath. He really hates traveling.
___________
The cab ride thankfully was a short one. It’s now night. He has no idea what time it is, having crossed so many time zones and the international dateline. He’s slept so much but he feels he can sleep again for a thousand years. He’s exhausted, the constant traveling, being bustled from one place to another. He can feel the color being drained from his face, eyes bleary and tired. He probably looks like something the cat dragged in.
The cab stops at a hotel. Mr. Cobb shakes his head when Arthur puts his hand on the door handle to exit. Russell parts ways with them. “It’s been a pleasure, mates,” true sarcasm dripping from his words.
“Mal wants to me you,” Mr. Cobb states this like it’s an explanation for everything. Arthur peers at him curiously when he doesn’t follow that up with anything else. “You can…stay with us if you want. She may…she may like that.”
Arthur didn’t like the idea that someone, anyone was babying him. Yes, he was younger than him and “Mal” who he supposed was his girlfriend. Yes, he had never been to this city. Yes, he hated traveling and was travel weary, jet lagged and overall just tired. He could be put up in a hotel. He managed a squad of soldiers he sure as hell could stay at a foreign hotel by himself, could get around ok if he was given a map. Arthur opens his mouth to protest. If this is how it’s going to be with Mr. Cobb then maybe they need to lay down some ground rules.
“She’s persistent. She won’t take no for an answer. I’ve learned not to argue with her on certain things,” he’s bashful again, averting his eyes. Arthur notices through the travel weariness on the older man’s face that he’s beaming, his blue eyes shining. He seems anxious too, checking his phone and watch repeatedly. Arthur had forgotten through everything that Mr. Cobb hadn’t seen his girlfriend, the other counterpart of his team, in quite a while. This quiets Arthur, his words of protest dying in his throat.
The cab stops again. This time near a pier right on the Seine River. Arthur feels bewildered again but as time progresses and the weariness is winning over he learns to just accept it. This time he is allowed to exit after Mr. Cobb pays the driver. Arthur can’t help but smile a little as Mr. Cobb is trying very hard to hide his enthusiasm and anticipation. He practically bounces as he leads Arthur authoritatively around the pier. The night air smells of salt, dead fish and slightly of sewage. There’s a slight fog rolling in. He hears the faint sounds of boats blaring their horns, cutting through silent, black water.
They walk through a warehouse district finally stopping at the furthest one, jutting up and out to the Seine, one side is uninhibited and looks out to it completely. On the other side of it is another warehouse. Even in the faint, yellowish glow of the scant lights that outline the pier he can make out that it’ a rather large building, Pier Number Six it’s labeled on one side. It looks ancient complete with crumbling brick, dusty, taped up windows, some walls almost covered completely with glass that look like they could far apart with a rather gentle wind. It looks rather dreadful and Arthur is not anticipating it looking any better on the inside. They’re about 300 feet from what Arthur suspects is an entrance when he sees a figure walking towards them on the pier. He thinks it’s a woman from what he thinks is hair fluttering around in the slight breeze.
Mr. Cobb picks up his pace, practically jogging when he spies the figure too. Arthur again has to contain his small smile. He’s never seen the deadly consultant like this before, so loose, his guard dropped, his human and “real” side revealed.
As they approach closer, Arthur trailing behind respectfully, keeping his distance, he knows that this woman must be Mal because of the way she smiles, her eyes warbling with tender emotion, her gaze never leaving the deadly consultant’s face. She’s beautiful he notices, almost breathtakingly so. Even under the faint yellow lights above the warehouse he can see her big greenish eyes shining, her full lips trembling, holding back tears as Mr. Cobb is shrugging off the duffel bag and is running into her arms. He scoops her up and swings her around a little in a circle and they’re laughing and smiling through repressed tears of joy. It’s a scene he remembers seeing in his youth when his father would come home after being away for years on end. His mother would practically bolt out of her chair and just wait by the door eagerly when she heard the car pull up. She would fall into his arms the minute he opened the door and they would stand there, him half in, half out, embracing like the world was ending. He’s eight years old again and is watching the same scene. Arthur feels his face flush and he averts his eyes from the tender reunion respectfully, standing back in what he hopes is a safe or proper enough distance. He looks out to the beautiful black Seine for a while, watching the twinkling city lights from across the pier reflecting back into the dark river like a mirror, the city he has yet to really explore stretched out before him invitingly.
He turns his attention back to the couple but they are still busy kissing, caught in a lover’s embrace and whispering. He’s seen it before but he doesn’t understand it. He had kissed, had been embraced, had fucked but what Arthur was viewing was pure, unadulterated love. And that was something Arthur had never experienced, his mind, his broken and buried heart and the “other thing” always getting in the way. He felt a shiver down his spine and he knew it wasn’t from the slight salt breeze blowing.
He enjoyed the view of the beautiful city across the opaque river for a while until he felt them approach. Mr. Cobb had his arm around her tightly, holding her to his side in a sweet, protective gesture. They would be inseparable now he decided. Arthur imagined that Mr. Cobb was trying to keep her as close as humanly possible. They both were flushed in the face, eyes still glistening a little from runaway tears though shiny and warm and the woman, Mal, was resting her head on the deadly consultant’s shoulder. They both regarded Arthur with warm, innocent smiles. Arthur was almost stunned. He had never seen Mr. Cobb so relaxed, so vulnerable, so at home. It suited him he decided.
“Arthur. This is my girlfriend, Mal. Mal; this is our new team mate. He’s Jacob Marek’s son.”
Closer up she was even lovelier than he originally thought. Delicate features, striking cheek bones and smile just like her mate’s. She was stunning without trying just like him as well. She stretched a hand out to Arthur’s and they shook hands. “Pleasure to meet you, dear.” Her voice was mesmerizing too-sing song and French accented. He knew now why Mr. Cobb liked her, why he acted they way he did when he was around her, why he was desperately trying to get back to her, to come home. Just like with someone else he met Arthur felt like he was being pulled into her vortex, into her world full of soft light and sweet promises. He found himself liking her and he hadn’t even spoken to her yet.
“Let’s go inside. You don’t have a coat, dear.” She fussed over him a little while Mr. Cobb stayed close mouthed and Arthur knew then who called the shots. Mr. Cobb definitely did not wear the pants in the relationship and he seemed fine with it.
Arthur allowed them to lead him inside the decrepit warehouse. He was expecting crumbling furniture, ancient machinery, bird and rat shit scattered everywhere, dust and mold covering every surface. To his surprise it was quite clean, airy and homey inside. The concrete floors were cold but clear. The second floor with catwalks and railings looked ancient but endearing. He liked the many beams and overlapping boards on the high ceiling. The multitude of windows gave it a very open feel but the way things were arranged made it feel more livable. He was given a tour of the place where he would be working intimately for God knows how long. The main area or great room was divided between makeshift offices, a meeting area and general work space. There were other small rooms off shooting from the great one used for private offices, laboratory, workshop and other research rooms. There are a couple bathrooms and a kitchen off of one wing. But what was really interesting and attention grabbing were the circle of lawn chairs, cots, old chaise lounges and other relaxed surfaces in the middle of the great room. The second floor was mostly empty. They used a couple rooms for storage and a couple small rooms had beds. “For just in case or if someone is working late and needs to rest for a while,” Mal explains, squeezing Mr. Cobb’s hand.
The couple seemed far too eager to start unpacking and setting up the dream sharing machine to really show Arthur or explain anything to him in great detail. Arthur again got the feeling he should get used to just accepting things and tried his best to help them unpack the device. They set it up in the middle of the great room right by the enclosed circle of chairs and other things. Mal is making clicking and humming noises in approval, chatting away quickly, asking Mr. Cobb a million questions about the theft of the device, looking wide eyed and hopefully wild.
She of course wanted to go under right away after the three of them tirelessly set up the device.
“Sweetheart, it’s late. Arthur and I have been on the go for almost two days straight.” Mal shoots Arthur a warm smile, something eager and dangerously passionate glinting in her eyes, mirroring Mr. Cobb’s when he speaks of dream sharing almost flawlessly.
“Let him decide, dear. He can speak for himself.”
The two of them regard the ex Corporal who finds himself sinking a little under their intense gaze.
“You can consider it your first lesson,” she coxes and Mr. Cobb looks away, shaking his head a little, a faint smile on his lips. “Mal,” he starts but his lover shoots him a look that shuts him up. “It’s been so long for me and what better way to get to know someone, hmm? Sharing dreams can be the best and most intimate way to unify a team,” she shoots Arthur another heart melting smile and Arthur finds himself locked in her powerful gaze and nods.
“Wonderful,” she exclaims, clapping her hands together and she’s moving around the room, tinkering with the device. Mr. Cobb strokes his chin a little, shaking his head, shooting Arthur apologetic looks. Arthur waves it off but he finds his breath has quickened and his heart racing. He hasn’t been under for something truly recreational, only for training or experimental purposes only. He thinks back to the prison, the ghosts that decided to show up and the way he got ill afterwards and he shudders. He’s filled with excitement and anxiousness though despite his nerves. He had missed the dream sharing and a sense of longing he didn’t know he felt came to the surface.
Mr. Cobb was whispering something to Mal, probably telling her to take it easy on Arthur, maybe explaining what happened last time he went under. He shoots Arthur another mournful look as he preps their IVs. He kisses his girlfriend’s forehead sweetly before he turns and depresses the button on the device. Arthur meets Mal’s big, shining eyes-the last thing he sees before they enter her dream.
* * *
This story has a companion piece called: "White Feather" which runs parallel to this story from Eames' POV. Both stories can be read separately but encouraged to be read together as the story will make more sense later!
Rating: R
Summary: Written for the inception_kink meme prompt: "Touch deprivation. Arthur is deprived of touch, Eames starts touching him all the time. Arthur doesn't understand why he allows it, or why he secretly even likes/needs it." This gives us Arthur's back story moving to Inception and past that as he battles OCD and touch deprivation and eventually Eames helping him. Slow building A/E.
Word Count: 5,898
Notes: I own nothing
Sorry for the long wait on the new chapter! Updates should be quicker from now on!
The title of this chapter comes from a line from the Gorillaz song: “Bill Murray” .
Please don’t forget to comment! :)
Chapter 8
Too Many Days to Get Lost
They stand huddled together awkwardly. Mr. Cobb is relaying the plan but Arthur’s only half listening. The whole situation, his life is hard to swallow as of late.
He was waiting to wake up. The same feeling coming over him when he was trapped in the prison cell. He wanted to reach for his gun, pull the trigger and wake up.
“Did you ever have a dream that you thought was so real that even after you woke up you still felt like you were in it?”
“It’s an odd feeling, like you’re moving between two worlds…”
He shook his head slightly to rid himself of the thoughts. He couldn't think about him, about how he left, the kiss they shared in the dream. He closed his eyes. He was a fool.
Mr. Cobb is still speaking and Arthur nods his head in understanding every once in a while but he doesn't understand. He doesn't understand anything.
"Kiss your military life goodbye."
The stress was overwhelming, he felt the familiar feeling of his body taking over without his control.
It's the obsessions and compulsions. It's like he’s too big for his own body. He feels stuffed into something too small for him. And then Mr. Cobb is telling him where to meet him later, telling him to go pack his stuff up. He walks numbly back to his barracks for the last time.
He paces around the room a little taking in everything familiar knowing that once he steps out outside everything will change and be anything but familiar. He's going to be walking away from everything with order. Everything routine and set. He touches the walls faintly in a "goodbye".
After he undressed and removed his gun he put on his only civilian clothes-a dark green t-shirt and khaki pants. It feels wrong.
He fingers his dog tags and he numbly slips them from around his neck. He traces his fingers over the imprinted name and numbers, flipping it over in his hands, wondering if he’ll be losing a part of himself now that he won’t be wearing them. He thinks about tossing them but pockets them instead. He wants to keep a reminder, a reminder of the life he once had. He was a Corporal, a leader of men, one of the first involved in a new and exciting technology full of endless possibilities-the dream sharing.
He was part of something big, something new and now...And now he was no longer any of those things.
He was just Arthur Marek: 21 year old running from his past and pathetically running to his father or at least trying to. By leaving he was going to lose a part of himself and he really did not want to get lost. The unknown always lead to a dark place full of memories, obsessions, compulsions and the “other thing”. He was also afraid of what he may gain as well.
He was sitting tying his shoes when the compulsion decided to take over. He couldn't get up until he tied it correctly or something bad would happen to him. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, bent over, tying and retying. His back and fingers started to ache and it became increasingly harder to concentrate.
He tried so hard to use the techniques that he learned from Dr. Trollsund but it was like cutting through a dense fog, a black veil over his thoughts. He tried to focus on why he felt he needed to do it and gradually though he isn’t sure how much time passes he’s able to loosen his grip on the tied laces.
He only gets up from his chair when he hears someone enter. Arthur starts moving numbly around the barracks and packs his things. He doesn’t have much. He never has.
___________
He slips out when it’s pitch black and way after “lights out”. It’s late. Most of the officers, personnel and soldiers are asleep, blissfully unaware. The October air is crisp and cool and his bare arms break out in goose pimples immediately when he steps outside to meet it. He’s not sure if it’s from the air or the sense of foreboding he’s getting.
He looks around faintly, pathetically trying to absorb his surroundings, locking it away in his mind for later. He wants to be able to remember it-how Fort Irwin looks tiny and vulnerable in the faint moon’s glow, the sleeping soldiers tucked away in their bunks, totally oblivious. The way the grass is dying and turning brown under his feet, crunching slightly under his boots. The fences, repetitive buildings of the same size and bland color, the tanks, the humvees, the helicopters, the training fields, the mountains that he knows are normally visible in the horizon, the dry and dusty dirt, the rocks and tumble weeds. He’s not sure what path is before him but he wants to remember all these things, the predictable life he used to have. Life could be worse. It could always be worse he reminds himself. It’s something that Dr. Trollsund has helped him discover and admit over the years but he still needed to say these things.
But he killed her. He couldn't bury that in a life regimented, controlled and picked out for him anymore. Could he forget her in dreaming?
Since the Sergeant left the new Sergeant, Sergeant Aaron, was the one overseeing the dream sharing training and responsible for the dream sharing machine. It worked to Arthur’s and Mr. Cobb's advantage because Sergeant Aaron had just come on board and didn't have an office set up just yet. Which meant that the device was being held in the training facility building which was much easier to break into according to Mr. Cobb because of its location.
Arthur and Mr. Cobb had certain clearance for certain things. Arthur had more clearance because he was a Corporal. The way they were breaking in would be similar to when they broke into the mess hall after hours. Arthur would be the lookout and run interference if necessary while Mr. Cobb would break into the building. Both of them would help disassemble and pack up the intricate and heavy device. What happened after that Arthur wasn’t so sure.
They were outside huddled around the back of the training facility building.
"What do we do once we have it?"
"I'm having someone pick us up."
"Oh."
Arthur should have thought of that but he was feeling like his world was turned upside down and biting back the obsessions and compulsions was getting increasingly harder. He was going AWOL. He was a deserter. Once he chose this he could never come back. But again he didn’t have a choice. If he had any hope of accomplishing what his father wanted and having him forgive him for killing his mother then he had to do it.
Arthur stood watch as Mr. Cobb picked the lock. They both slipped inside. After securing the door Mr. Cobb moved swiftly and set down the big duffel bag he was carrying, unzipping it a second later and tossing something to Arthur. Arthur catches it and holds up a guard uniform including hat. Mr. Cobb is already putting his on, stuffing his other clothes into his duffel bag.
Arthur dons the uniform quickly stuffing his own clothes in his bag and they set about carefully disassembling the large machine. The machine isn’t easily portable and it makes Arthur wonder what Mr. Cobb has in store for the dream sharing, remembering their late night conversation in the mess hall about how Mr. Cobb felt they hadn’t tapped into the technology’s true potential.
Arthur takes in the dark room as they work, letting his eyes wander. He’s spent a lot of intimate time inside these walls-running drills with his squad, preparing for battle and testing out the dream sharing machine. He’s spooling wires around his wrist when his eye catches some chairs pushed up against the far wall. He thinks they look familiar and something in his brain tingles. He shrugs it off. Of course they look familiar he’s been in this building countless times. The odd feeling doesn’t leave however and he keeps picturing a hand in his as he sits in one of those chairs. He shakes his head. Impossible.
“Did you ever have a dream that you thought was so real that even after you woke up you still felt like you were in it?”
They pack away the machine into the bags Mr. Cobb brought and the older man flashes him a look after they finished. Arthur meets it head on.
“Now what?”
“Now, Arthur, we leave.”
Arthur bristles at the casual use of his name and wants to open his mouth to protest, to correct him but he bites it back. He remembers at the last minute that he no longer is a Corporal. That identity is long gone now, buried and sealed away inside the walls that surround him.
Arthur knows that phase two of the plan involves some kind of decoy or distraction being played out in the base so Arthur and Mr. Cobb can slip out as inconspicuously as possible.
Arthur hears it before he sees it-the distant sound of alarm bells blaring and the distinct sounds of a distant fire erupting, angrily eating away at the surroundings, cracking and spitting. He turns to the sound and sees dark smoke curling impossibly upwards and distant flames rising to the sky like an offering coming from the direction of some buildings that are used for storage. Arthur notices Mr. Cobb is nodding and smiling faintly. His normally steely blue eyes are now orange, flames dancing wildly off of them.
“I set the timer to go off in one of the storage buildings. I guess I timed it pretty well. We gotta keep moving.”
Arthur can’t keep his eyes off the rising flames. His head is bent, looking over his shoulder as they sky turns different shades of red and orange as they walk quickly away from the training facility building, heavy bags hanging from their shoulders like constant reminders of the path they’ve chosen.
Officers, guards, and soldiers rush past them to presumably help fight the fire that Mr. Cobb has caused. The two men keep their heads down, lowering their caps over their eyes as they breathe in smoke that has blanketed the base. The air smells and tastes heavily like burned wood and ash.
They stop at the high metal fence-the only barrier between them and the outside world. Arthur glances over his shoulder one more time, smoke and ash heavy in his lungs and nose, his breathing and heart beat rapid. He sees the flames, now seeming tiny in the horizon and again he gets a strange tingling in his brain. He sees a flash of a small country home with green, lush, rolling hills all around. He’s touching peeling wallpaper and chipped paint on the walls as he moves around the small house with buckling wood floors and thread bare carpet. The small house erupts into flames and suddenly he’s outside in the back yard watching as smoke pools out of broken windows pluming up into the dusk sky. But it isn’t his house. His house was large, set high on the cliffs near the green ocean. But still he watches. The ash that rains down suddenly turns to white feathers. He cranes his neck impossibly upwards as the small, light things tickle and dance on his face. He’s only aware someone is next to him when he hears what he thinks is a familiar voice.
“I did this.”
The person’s face is obscured by the millions of feathers raining down from the sky, blanketing the soft grass like snow, almost drowning out their voice. Arthur watches the white feathers fall into the rising flames. They curl, bubble and turn black. The feathers cover everything, creating a whiteout. Arthur is almost afraid he’ll get swallowed up in it just like the feathers in the flames.
“I know,” Arthur says but his voice seems small-the feathers wanting to enter inside. The whole world becomes obscured and turns white.
“Arthur,” there’s a light hand on his shoulder and Arthur whips his head around to the direction of the touch, his body feeling like it’s been electro shocked, his breath catching in his smoky throat. He shudders and fights the reflex to close his eyes. The world is familiarly black and cold again not white and hot from flames.
Mr. Cobb is staring at him. His brilliant, passionate blue eyes are burning just as intensely as the flames. He releases his hand from Arthur’s trembling shoulder. Arthur finally feels like he can breathe, his mind has stopped spinning and he’s brought back down to earth.
“We gotta go,” Mr. Cobb jerks his head to the gap that’s been cut at the bottom of the fence. It’s just big enough for a man to squeeze through. Arthur nods curtly, desperately trying to shake out the thoughts that gripped his mind seconds ago. It feels like there are feathers still in his head making him feel drowsy and light. He feels bewildered and slow from shock. His movements are sloppy and sluggish like a toddler as he pathetically crawls under the fence-it scratching and catching on his uniform, cold metal digging into his skin uncomfortably. He numbly takes the bags that Mr. Cobb pushes through. Mr. Cobb shoots a look over his shoulder, one last cautious glance and then dives under the fence a second later.
Mr. Cobb has to practically throw the bag at Arthur and push him along to keep moving. Arthur is still in a daze. His head is full of feathers, familiar words, flames, black and white and the endless, unknown road that’s before him.
___________
They walk hurriedly down the dark dirt road, Arthur having to be pushed and prodded along way. Arthur is faintly aware that it’s an access road used by trucks for deliveries and things on the opposite end of the main entrance to the base. They walk in silence for a time, moving in a direction away from the main entrance, the moon and still night their only companions.
Arthur can only hear his boots shuffling over dry dirt and small rocks, his heavy breath and the wind in the barren branches of the trees. Arthur isn’t sure how long they walk. It could be a long or short distance. By the time he spies the van that’s presumably waiting for them the sun is just coming up, dusting the sky with faint oranges, purples and reds, the mountains in the horizon becoming visible like they’re coming out of a deep sleep.
Mr. Cobb takes the bag from Arthur’s slack grip and loads them into the back. Arthur climbs into the van feeling like he’s part of the device that’s tucked away and hidden safely in the confines of the bags and car. The driver peers over his shoulder and blinks at Arthur, looking him over curiously. He’s around the same age as Mr. Cobb with inquisitive, intelligent yet bored eyes. He seems put out and releases a huff before whipping his head back and starting the engine. Mr. Cobb climbs into the van taking a seat next to Arthur to his surprise and suddenly Arthur is very tired. Getting no sleep, the adrenaline rush wearing off, the alarming day dream and losing part of if not all of his identity catches up with him.
They take off down the road, entering the highway a short time later. Mr. Cobb is talking to the driver, giving instructions but Arthur doesn’t pay attention to what they’re saying. He watches the sun come up, ghosting his fingers around the dog tags still in his pocket, sleep tugging at his eyes.
Something lands in his lap breaking him out of his stupor. It’s a passport. He opens it and looks it over with bleary vision. He shoots the deadly consultant turned thief a look.
“Carlos Domingo?”
Mr. Cobb’s attention is on his window and the passing scenery in the faint morning light. He bites his lip like he’s trying to contain a smile or laugh and he shrugs.
“It’s the best I could come up with in such short time.”
Arthur stares at the picture on the passport. It’s a picture from his later high school days maybe even for the yearbook. He never really had his picture taken much at all. He feels the beginnings of bewilderment again as he has no idea how Mr. Cobb would have gotten a hold of the picture and maybe he doesn’t want to know. He traces a thumb over the passport it making the situation more real. He really has left his former life and is starting a new one.
He lets his head sink further back into the headrest, eyes closed, weariness taking over.
“…Can sleep until we get to the airport if you like? We’ll have to change out of these clothes…”Mr. Cobb’s words fade in and out. He’s only left feeling like he’s been stolen just like the dream sharing machine as he succumbs to familiar blackness.
___________
He feels sudden movement that makes him jerk forwards in his seat, rattling him awake. His head snaps up and he’s discombobulated. He momentarily forgets where he is as he blinks awake. The stranger in the driver’s seat is smirking at him. Mr. Cobb berates the stranger, telling him it isn’t funny. Arthur takes in the surroundings through his window and sees they're in a parking garage. He turns to Mr. Cobb who flashes him that dazzling smile.
“We’re here.”
They change quickly in the van. The driver drums the steering wheel impatiently; grating on Arthur’s already frayed nerves. Mr. Cobb gives them a hurried introduction: “Arthur, this is my associate and sometimes acting Architect Russell. Russell this is our…new team member Arthur.” The driver, Russell, gives Arthur a little half salute, a smug smile on his lips. “Pleasure,” he drawls out and Arthur notes the British accent.
“Architect?” Arthur squeaks out mystified as Mr. Cobb slides open the van door, climbing out. He hears the back doors being opened. The driver regards him coolly. “You know with buildings, schematics, and floor plans and such?” He twirls his fingers absentmindedly and there’s a mock in his English drawl. Arthur unbuckles his seatbelt with fumbling fingers, heavy confusion still consuming his mind.
He meets Mr. Cobb and Russell around the back of the van. Mr. Cobb hands them both a duffel bag and relays what has to be part of the plan to Russell in hushed tones, something about the bags are going to be picked up by his inside guy in baggage claim once they are checked.
And then Arthur is hurried inside almost rudely as he apparently wasn’t moving fast enough for the two older men. He hadn’t been in an airport for a while. He hadn’t taken a leave and gone home to see Dr. Trollsund in almost a year. The thought pains him. He goes through the motions however, sometimes being guided by Mr. Cobb. He flashes his fake passport and no one questions Mr. Carlos Domingo.
“Have a safe and pleasurable flight to Paris Mr. Domingo,” the attendant smiles sweetly and hands him back his ticket and passport. Arthur can only blink and nod at her, numbly taking the items.
When they’re safely out of earshot and while they’re walking to their gate Arthur chances his question:
“Paris?”
Mr. Cobb is hiding a smile again. Russell takes it upon himself to answer. “Base of operations for right now. That and his tart is there waiting for him,” he jerks a thumb at an almost blushing Mr. Cobb. Mr. Cobb shakes his head a little, a smile threatening to spill over and looks away.
Everything goes smoothly and he notes how well oiled machines Russell and Mr. Cobb are like they’ve done this a million times, nothing phasing them, almost looking bored like they’ve stolen countless expensive and top secret things from the military before.
When they board the plane Mr. Cobb takes the aisle seat next to Arthur, Russell in the row ahead of them.
“Figured you’d want to sleep. It’s a long flight.” Arthur wants to do anything but. His mind is buzzing, a million questions on his tongue. The main one being: “Who am I now?”
Sleep finds him anyway after he gets bored of reading the in-flight magazines and listening to the din of people’s voices and the soft drone of the airplane noises. He knows he always dreams of things that have already happened to him, his unoriginal and rigid mind not allowing the fanciful to stream through. So why does he dream of a small country home set in the rolling green hills and white feathers falling from the sky?
___________
He sleeps during most of the flight. The strange dream rattles him, grips him even when he’s awake. It feels so real, so visceral.
“Did you ever have a dream that you thought was so real that even after you woke up you still felt like you were in it?”
“It’s an odd feeling, like you’re moving between two worlds…”
He does feel like he’s still in it, moving between two worlds watching the small country home burst into flames-the heat and feathers on his face, the stranger at his side. And fuck, Arthur doesn’t want to think about the Sergeant. The Sergeant with his hard set yet sad eyes as he walks briskly out of the hospital room after their blowup. How he observed him from afar walking away, out of Fort Irwin, out of his life, getting into a car and driving away just like his father. He had called him a coward but Arthur knew deep down that they both were. Arthur was always running away. Now he was running to something and he had no idea what that was.
Arthur had done a tour in Afghanistan not liking the international travel and all that came with it. When they land after their connecting flight, safely picking up their checked bags and trying to navigate out of the airport he’s reminded again of why he swore he wouldn’t travel internationally again unless he had to. Every place is flooded with people, too many people-bodies that rudely jostle and bump into him. For a person who’s not used to being touched it’s an absolute nightmare. He feels like his deceased mother-that everyone is unclean as he feels hot, sweaty, smelly bodies brushing his. His personal space is invaded, his feet stepped on, odds looks shot his way because of his shaved head and two older “body guard” companions. He feels he can’t breathe and the obsessions and compulsions are bubbling up, threatening to overtake him.
Somehow, seemingly magically, they make it outside to join the taxi cue. Arthur inhales fresh, clean air deeply. Russell claps him on the back sucking that air right out a second later. “A little green around the edges as far as traveling are we?” Arthur can see Mr. Cobb shoot Russell a look from the corner of his eye. He hears them bickering a few seconds later as Arthur pathetically tries to regain his breath. He really hates traveling.
___________
The cab ride thankfully was a short one. It’s now night. He has no idea what time it is, having crossed so many time zones and the international dateline. He’s slept so much but he feels he can sleep again for a thousand years. He’s exhausted, the constant traveling, being bustled from one place to another. He can feel the color being drained from his face, eyes bleary and tired. He probably looks like something the cat dragged in.
The cab stops at a hotel. Mr. Cobb shakes his head when Arthur puts his hand on the door handle to exit. Russell parts ways with them. “It’s been a pleasure, mates,” true sarcasm dripping from his words.
“Mal wants to me you,” Mr. Cobb states this like it’s an explanation for everything. Arthur peers at him curiously when he doesn’t follow that up with anything else. “You can…stay with us if you want. She may…she may like that.”
Arthur didn’t like the idea that someone, anyone was babying him. Yes, he was younger than him and “Mal” who he supposed was his girlfriend. Yes, he had never been to this city. Yes, he hated traveling and was travel weary, jet lagged and overall just tired. He could be put up in a hotel. He managed a squad of soldiers he sure as hell could stay at a foreign hotel by himself, could get around ok if he was given a map. Arthur opens his mouth to protest. If this is how it’s going to be with Mr. Cobb then maybe they need to lay down some ground rules.
“She’s persistent. She won’t take no for an answer. I’ve learned not to argue with her on certain things,” he’s bashful again, averting his eyes. Arthur notices through the travel weariness on the older man’s face that he’s beaming, his blue eyes shining. He seems anxious too, checking his phone and watch repeatedly. Arthur had forgotten through everything that Mr. Cobb hadn’t seen his girlfriend, the other counterpart of his team, in quite a while. This quiets Arthur, his words of protest dying in his throat.
The cab stops again. This time near a pier right on the Seine River. Arthur feels bewildered again but as time progresses and the weariness is winning over he learns to just accept it. This time he is allowed to exit after Mr. Cobb pays the driver. Arthur can’t help but smile a little as Mr. Cobb is trying very hard to hide his enthusiasm and anticipation. He practically bounces as he leads Arthur authoritatively around the pier. The night air smells of salt, dead fish and slightly of sewage. There’s a slight fog rolling in. He hears the faint sounds of boats blaring their horns, cutting through silent, black water.
They walk through a warehouse district finally stopping at the furthest one, jutting up and out to the Seine, one side is uninhibited and looks out to it completely. On the other side of it is another warehouse. Even in the faint, yellowish glow of the scant lights that outline the pier he can make out that it’ a rather large building, Pier Number Six it’s labeled on one side. It looks ancient complete with crumbling brick, dusty, taped up windows, some walls almost covered completely with glass that look like they could far apart with a rather gentle wind. It looks rather dreadful and Arthur is not anticipating it looking any better on the inside. They’re about 300 feet from what Arthur suspects is an entrance when he sees a figure walking towards them on the pier. He thinks it’s a woman from what he thinks is hair fluttering around in the slight breeze.
Mr. Cobb picks up his pace, practically jogging when he spies the figure too. Arthur again has to contain his small smile. He’s never seen the deadly consultant like this before, so loose, his guard dropped, his human and “real” side revealed.
As they approach closer, Arthur trailing behind respectfully, keeping his distance, he knows that this woman must be Mal because of the way she smiles, her eyes warbling with tender emotion, her gaze never leaving the deadly consultant’s face. She’s beautiful he notices, almost breathtakingly so. Even under the faint yellow lights above the warehouse he can see her big greenish eyes shining, her full lips trembling, holding back tears as Mr. Cobb is shrugging off the duffel bag and is running into her arms. He scoops her up and swings her around a little in a circle and they’re laughing and smiling through repressed tears of joy. It’s a scene he remembers seeing in his youth when his father would come home after being away for years on end. His mother would practically bolt out of her chair and just wait by the door eagerly when she heard the car pull up. She would fall into his arms the minute he opened the door and they would stand there, him half in, half out, embracing like the world was ending. He’s eight years old again and is watching the same scene. Arthur feels his face flush and he averts his eyes from the tender reunion respectfully, standing back in what he hopes is a safe or proper enough distance. He looks out to the beautiful black Seine for a while, watching the twinkling city lights from across the pier reflecting back into the dark river like a mirror, the city he has yet to really explore stretched out before him invitingly.
He turns his attention back to the couple but they are still busy kissing, caught in a lover’s embrace and whispering. He’s seen it before but he doesn’t understand it. He had kissed, had been embraced, had fucked but what Arthur was viewing was pure, unadulterated love. And that was something Arthur had never experienced, his mind, his broken and buried heart and the “other thing” always getting in the way. He felt a shiver down his spine and he knew it wasn’t from the slight salt breeze blowing.
He enjoyed the view of the beautiful city across the opaque river for a while until he felt them approach. Mr. Cobb had his arm around her tightly, holding her to his side in a sweet, protective gesture. They would be inseparable now he decided. Arthur imagined that Mr. Cobb was trying to keep her as close as humanly possible. They both were flushed in the face, eyes still glistening a little from runaway tears though shiny and warm and the woman, Mal, was resting her head on the deadly consultant’s shoulder. They both regarded Arthur with warm, innocent smiles. Arthur was almost stunned. He had never seen Mr. Cobb so relaxed, so vulnerable, so at home. It suited him he decided.
“Arthur. This is my girlfriend, Mal. Mal; this is our new team mate. He’s Jacob Marek’s son.”
Closer up she was even lovelier than he originally thought. Delicate features, striking cheek bones and smile just like her mate’s. She was stunning without trying just like him as well. She stretched a hand out to Arthur’s and they shook hands. “Pleasure to meet you, dear.” Her voice was mesmerizing too-sing song and French accented. He knew now why Mr. Cobb liked her, why he acted they way he did when he was around her, why he was desperately trying to get back to her, to come home. Just like with someone else he met Arthur felt like he was being pulled into her vortex, into her world full of soft light and sweet promises. He found himself liking her and he hadn’t even spoken to her yet.
“Let’s go inside. You don’t have a coat, dear.” She fussed over him a little while Mr. Cobb stayed close mouthed and Arthur knew then who called the shots. Mr. Cobb definitely did not wear the pants in the relationship and he seemed fine with it.
Arthur allowed them to lead him inside the decrepit warehouse. He was expecting crumbling furniture, ancient machinery, bird and rat shit scattered everywhere, dust and mold covering every surface. To his surprise it was quite clean, airy and homey inside. The concrete floors were cold but clear. The second floor with catwalks and railings looked ancient but endearing. He liked the many beams and overlapping boards on the high ceiling. The multitude of windows gave it a very open feel but the way things were arranged made it feel more livable. He was given a tour of the place where he would be working intimately for God knows how long. The main area or great room was divided between makeshift offices, a meeting area and general work space. There were other small rooms off shooting from the great one used for private offices, laboratory, workshop and other research rooms. There are a couple bathrooms and a kitchen off of one wing. But what was really interesting and attention grabbing were the circle of lawn chairs, cots, old chaise lounges and other relaxed surfaces in the middle of the great room. The second floor was mostly empty. They used a couple rooms for storage and a couple small rooms had beds. “For just in case or if someone is working late and needs to rest for a while,” Mal explains, squeezing Mr. Cobb’s hand.
The couple seemed far too eager to start unpacking and setting up the dream sharing machine to really show Arthur or explain anything to him in great detail. Arthur again got the feeling he should get used to just accepting things and tried his best to help them unpack the device. They set it up in the middle of the great room right by the enclosed circle of chairs and other things. Mal is making clicking and humming noises in approval, chatting away quickly, asking Mr. Cobb a million questions about the theft of the device, looking wide eyed and hopefully wild.
She of course wanted to go under right away after the three of them tirelessly set up the device.
“Sweetheart, it’s late. Arthur and I have been on the go for almost two days straight.” Mal shoots Arthur a warm smile, something eager and dangerously passionate glinting in her eyes, mirroring Mr. Cobb’s when he speaks of dream sharing almost flawlessly.
“Let him decide, dear. He can speak for himself.”
The two of them regard the ex Corporal who finds himself sinking a little under their intense gaze.
“You can consider it your first lesson,” she coxes and Mr. Cobb looks away, shaking his head a little, a faint smile on his lips. “Mal,” he starts but his lover shoots him a look that shuts him up. “It’s been so long for me and what better way to get to know someone, hmm? Sharing dreams can be the best and most intimate way to unify a team,” she shoots Arthur another heart melting smile and Arthur finds himself locked in her powerful gaze and nods.
“Wonderful,” she exclaims, clapping her hands together and she’s moving around the room, tinkering with the device. Mr. Cobb strokes his chin a little, shaking his head, shooting Arthur apologetic looks. Arthur waves it off but he finds his breath has quickened and his heart racing. He hasn’t been under for something truly recreational, only for training or experimental purposes only. He thinks back to the prison, the ghosts that decided to show up and the way he got ill afterwards and he shudders. He’s filled with excitement and anxiousness though despite his nerves. He had missed the dream sharing and a sense of longing he didn’t know he felt came to the surface.
Mr. Cobb was whispering something to Mal, probably telling her to take it easy on Arthur, maybe explaining what happened last time he went under. He shoots Arthur another mournful look as he preps their IVs. He kisses his girlfriend’s forehead sweetly before he turns and depresses the button on the device. Arthur meets Mal’s big, shining eyes-the last thing he sees before they enter her dream.
* * *
This story has a companion piece called: "White Feather" which runs parallel to this story from Eames' POV. Both stories can be read separately but encouraged to be read together as the story will make more sense later!