Ghost of a Rose: Part One
Title: Ghost of a Rose
Fandom: Inception
Rating: R, for language.
Pairings: one-sided Arthur/Cobb/Mal, Arthur/Cobb (after a fashion), Ariadne/Eames, Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Summary: In which there is more than one way to be the abandoned half of a whole, and it's just as wrenching even when the bonds are different. Or, Cobb's not the only one with a Shade.
Author's Note: Um... Yeah. So, this began as an exercise in seeing if it was possible to write a non-psychotic shade, and it turned into something that's partly that, part character study, and... I'm not sure what else? Also, this is my longest oneshot (well, it was supposed to be a oneshot...) to date.
When all was done, she turned to run
Dancing to the setting sun
As he watched her
And evermore, he thought he saw
A glimpse of her
Upon the walls forever
He'd hear her say
“Promise me when you see
A white rose
You'll think of me
I love you so
Never let go
I will be
Your ghost of a rose” - Ghost of a Rose, Blackmore's Night
Tell Me How It Ends
You disappear with all your good intentions
And all I am is all I could not mention...
Who will bring me flowers when it's over?
And who will bring me comfort when it's cold?
And who will I belong to when the day just won't give in?
And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins? - Flowers For a Ghost, Thriving Ivory
Aubrey dies one month and five days before she and Arthur turn eighteen, one month and five days before they're free of the system and can get as far away from Baton Rouge as possible. They've been talking about Nashville, making their way as a singing duo. They're good, and with Aubrey to write the lyrics and Arthur to come up with melodies to back them, they have plenty of material.
All of that comes to an end when Aubrey's killed in, of all things, a bus accident. Arthur's the only real mourner at the funeral, though half their high school showed up in some ridiculous act of hive mind solidarity. It makes him angrier than anything else could have right now, and it's all he can do to just give the eulogy and not scream and curse out these fake people who don't know, who can't know...
What he says is simple, as he toys with a stupid loaded die in his pocket, a die she called her lucky charm that maybe really is lucky because it was the one day she forgot it that she died. He just says that he loved Aubrey and he's going to miss her, trite words that mean nothing. Because Aubrey was the one who had a way with words, who wrote stories and poems when she wasn't penning lyrics. She would know how to say it if he was the one in the ground, she would know how to explain what they were to each other and how impossible it is to contemplate being alone now. But she's not here, and that's the entire problem.
Aubrey is the only one who's ever loved him. They don't know who their father is, he could be any man with dark hair and dark eyes like theirs - their mother is a blue-eyed blonde, so this much they know - and their mother is a second-rate whore and heroin junkie who doesn't care about anything except getting another fix.
He doesn't know how he's supposed to live without her. Aubrey was his twin, his other half, and without her he's lost. Without her he doesn't even know who he is, all of his identity wrapped up in the two of them being more parts of one person than two separate people. They could talk without speaking, they trusted each other implicitly... He doesn't know what to do now.
Remember Me
Whenever you remember times gone by
Remember how we held our heads so high
When all this world was there for us
And we believed that we could touch the sky
Whenever you remember I'll be there... - Whenever You Remember, Carrie Underwood
Arthur doesn't go to Nashville. Instead, he joins the Marine Corps. It seems like a good enough idea, and he can't play music anymore anyway. It makes him think of Aubrey, and the only way he can cope with not having his twin at his side is to not think about her. Anything else might drive him crazy.
They send him to Afghanistan in 2001, not long after his 21st birthday. He gets a reputation for being the guy you go to for impossible assignments, because he'll get things done and ignore the risk. They're all Marines, so they all do their duty regardless, but Arthur has less nerves than anyone. What no one seems to realize is that it's because he just doesn't care. He's not suicidal, but he doesn't have anything to lose, so why care one way or the other? He's surprised the psych evals they do didn't turn it up, but apparently not.
Then he's sent stateside again. His tour's not over, but he doesn't question his orders. When he gets back, they tell him about lucid dreaming. He doesn't believe them until his new CO shoots him in the head and he wakes up gasping on a cot, an IV embedded in his arm.
“Relax, Private Callahan,” says a voice in his ear. Arthur turns his head and finds himself looking into warm brown eyes a shade or two darker than his own. The woman who spoke is not military, he can tell at a glance, a French accent turning her voice musical. “Everything is all right.”
Her name is Mallorie Cobb, and she tells him that she and her husband Dominic are civilian researchers attached to this project, which involves both U.S. and British military. Across from him, a man with short, dark blond hair is shaking his head, looking more than a little sick. Mallorie - Mal - introduces the two men, and that's how Arthur meets Lieutenant Patrick Eames.
“Just Eames, if you don't mind, Callahan.”
“Arthur.” Callahan can refer to his sister; has done, sometimes. Arthur doesn't like to be called by his last name if he can help it.
“Fair enough.”
He doesn't spend too much time with Eames then, and while he can't say he doesn't like the man, the Cobbs take up most of his attention. At first, they simply fascinate him. He's never seen a couple like the two of them, so obviously delighting in each other even when they're buckled down and working. Being around them is to bask in the reflected warmth of their love for each other, and he can't help but like it. Just like he can't help but love dreaming, it's the first time he's loved anything he did since the last time he sat down with his old guitar and a notebook.
Arthur doesn't expect what's coming. He goes under alone one day, even though they advise not doing so. He's not worried; he has his totem, which is Aubrey's old loaded die. He still carries it everywhere, because while he can't stand to think about her, he can't let her go either. The die is a compromise, its familiar feel in his pocket enough to be a reminder without being painful.
He doesn't mean to create the rooftop of their apartment building, where the two of them would go at night to lay back and look at the stars. It's not planned, but when he gets there he doesn't panic. His heart stops when someone sits next to him, though, and he turns to look into eyes exactly like his own.
At first, all Arthur can do is stare. The strange part is that Aubrey doesn't look like how he remembers her, a seventeen-year-old girl with wild, almost desperate dreams. She looks like she's twenty-one, like him, and that doesn't make any sense at all. Except... He's been stuck in a dream for six months before, he ended up growing a full beard. He's never done that, has no idea how he'd really look if he did, but his subconscious filled in the blanks. Maybe that's what's happened here - he knows if he's twenty-one she should be, so...
But that doesn't explain what's going on, why his mind should conjure a projection of her. Because he knows that's what she is, a projection, and yet, this is as close to having his sister back as he's ever going to get, isn't it? “Aubrey...” His voice is a whisper, he can't make it any louder.
“Hey, Arthur,” she says, like it's normal, like she's never been gone. “Weird, isn't it? I guess you still need me around.”
“Of course I do, I've been... I've been a mess,” he admits truthfully. Because he has been. He knows that, has known it all along. He's the only one who doesn't flinch when he's killed in a dream, because he doesn't mind it. He doesn't mind that fleeting second where, totem or no, you're sure it's reality and this is it. And that's not a good thing.
“I know that, I'm part of your mind, aren't I?” She flashes that wicked smile that always precluded some prank or misadventure when they were kids, and he can't help but smile back. She has the same drawl to her voice that Arthur's worked hard to get rid of, and it's amazingly soothing. Something tight loosens in his chest as he talks to her, about anything, everything, and nothing at all.
Arthur wakes up from the dream with a weight he hadn't known he was still carrying suddenly lifted. It's a good feeling, though he is careful, through all the dreams that follow where he sees at least a glimpse of his sister, to remember that it's an illusion. She's not real, but to be honest, he's OK with that. Something is better than nothing, and it's a comfort to have her back like this, no matter if it's only in his head or not.
In My Dream I Win
But I'm not broken
In my dream I win...
And I'm in, you're not
Bad dreams don't stop
'Cause I'm all screwed up
A cosmic castaway - Cosmic Castaway, Electrasy
Of course the others notice her. He tells everyone she's the head of his subconscious security, that for him it works best if he has someone to 'discuss' it with if someone's trying to invade his mind, someone to work with directly rather than just having a mass of armed and dangerous projections to converge on the invaders. From a certain point of view, this is even the truth; Aubrey is his security, and he does work with her that way to guard his mind from invasion. It's just that he didn't create her on purpose, and he's pretty sure whatever part of his subconscious did create her wasn't doing it for the reason he tells people.
Miles thinks this head of security strategy is a novel idea, Dom taps his fingers on his knee and files it away - years later this will be the basis of his Mr. Charles gambit, and Arthur will wish, when it all goes to hell that first time, that he had come up with another cover for Aubrey's presence. Most of the other soldiers, British and American alike, who he works with semi-regularly, just shrug and move on. Only Mal and Eames seem unconvinced, one concerned and the other suspicious, but they never ask.
Arthur works with Eames more than he does with the Cobbs, these days. It's because they're both military while Dom and Mal are civilians. So Eames actually has the most right to ask, and yet he leaves it alone. Arthur appreciates this, and thinks he'd almost like Eames if it wasn't for the other man's devil-may-care attitude and occasional flirty asides.
When the program ends, most of the soldiers go back to their lives. Eames vanishes, and it's not until he's been gone a day that they realize one of the PASIVs left with him. Dom, Mal, and Arthur are probably the only ones who don't really mind.
Because Arthur stays with them. The Cobbs draw him and always have. He's not sure what it is about them, and part of him knows it's just hero worship. But he's falling in love with them, in a way, and he's surprisingly fine with that. It doesn't cause any tension or awkwardness with them, though he suspects that they know, so what's the problem?
“You're only feeling like this because they're safe.”
Arthur glances around. They're doing what they call an extraction for the LAPD, and Dom and Mal are on the second level of the dream. He's guarding them on the first; luckily all's quiet, no projections in sight. Well, except for one. He doesn't even bother to glare at Aubrey, simply raises an eyebrow as he turns his head to look at her.
They're in a fancy hotel room, having just left the equally fancy restaurant on the first floor, so the fact that Aubrey is in a red, ankle-length silk dress is not a surprise. He's noticed that she always wears red in the dreams, though he's not entirely sure why. She's leaning against the wall, dark eyes studying the sleeping Cobbs thoughtfully.
“What makes you say that?” Arthur wants to know, frowning.
“You love them, but they'll never demand any more from you than they're already asking. They don't need it, they have each other. So you can... love them from afar, like some modern version of a knight errant, and never have to actually give anything real.”
Arthur glares at her, not liking this assessment. And the worst of it, he can't even say she's wrong. After all, she's not real, she's a part of his mind. Which means on some level, what she says probably is true. He's begun to wonder just what this ghost or shade or whatever Aubrey is - she's more than a simple projection, after all - means, what part of his mind she represents.
“It's still love, what's the point?”
“The point is that you're not taking any risks. You're too scared to.”
“Aubrey, I don't need to hear this right now. I'm working.”
“Fine, but one of these days you'll have to listen to me. Can't run from your own subconscious.”
Of course he can. Somehow. Arthur hasn't worked out how yet, but he's sure it must be possible.
Losing Grip
You, you need to listen
I'm starting to trip
I'm losing my grip
And I'm in this thing alone - Losing Grip, Avril Lavigne
What happens to Mal scares the hell out of him. He's right there with Dom, trying to convince her that this world is real, but it doesn't do anyone any good. Arthur's the one watching James and Philippa the night that Mal jumps, he's the one who has to tell them that Mommy isn't coming home. Then he takes charge of a shell-shocked Dom, calling one of his contacts in the government and getting them both out of the country before the cops show up at the door.
Arthur's the point man, and he's a survivor. He can handle this. He can handle getting Dom through the first weeks, first months. And then suddenly it's a year, over a year, and a job goes wrong. They could have died, almost did die, and Arthur forgets himself. Because if he doesn't have Dom he doesn't have anyone, except Aubrey who's nothing but a shadow anyway. He hugs the other man like he'd die if he let go, but he's not expecting it when Dom doesn't hug back, instead shoves him against the closest wall and crushes his lips to Arthur's.
Arthur knows what this is. Sex as a drug, as alcohol, as something to make Dom forget, for a while. Dom knows that Arthur will let him do it, so he takes and takes and gives nothing back. Arthur isn't happy that he's finally getting something, anything from Dom, he doesn't hate the other man for using him. He can't seem to feel anything about the situation at all.
He's embarrassed when they meet Eames again, though. Eames, who has spent the same years Arthur, Dom, and Mal spent using dream tech for police work and therapy carving himself a niche in the dreaming underworld. Eames, who as a forger is painfully talented at reading human interaction. It only takes one job with Eames and Arthur knows that the Brit is aware of this strange new turn in the relationship between the point man and the extractor. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much, but it does.
Still, he thinks he feels nothing about the situation itself. Until a practice run one day, Dom and Eames attempting to extract from Arthur as a test for them all. Dom and Eames are testing their skill at evading a militarized subconscious, Arthur is testing the strength of his security. To his surprise, he doesn't see Aubrey at all. She's not the entirety of his security, of course, that would be stupid, but usually during runs like this he'll at least see her.
The dream ends abruptly, and he finds upon waking that it's because Dom shoved him out of his chair. “What the fuck was that, Arthur?” Dom screams at him while Arthur is still blinking awake.
“What was what, Dom?”
Dom opens his mouth to say something else furious, but Eames cuts in, voice mild. The tone doesn't match the sharp, considering look in his eyes. “That girl of yours decided to shoot out Cobb's kneecaps before she gave him one between the eyes.”
Shit. “I didn't do that on purpose,” he says honestly. Dom scoffs.
“Then why did she torture me before she killed me, but Eames just got a clean shot to the back of the head?”
Arthur blinks, and says nothing, because he can't explain that one. Even to him it makes no sense. But that night, he takes charge of the PASIV like he always does, and plugs in like he tries not to do that often. He opens his eyes to find himself in the warehouse they're working out of, Aubrey perched on one of the tables. She's all in black except for the jacket which is practically a red version of his favorite brown leather jacket.
“What the hell was that today?” he asks without preamble, noting that he's wearing the jacket hers is modeled off of. She shrugs, winding a lock of dark hair around one finger.
“I've been pissed off at dear Dominic since he started fucking you.”
“I don't see why. It doesn't bother me, it shouldn't bother you. If anything, you should be a bitch to Eames; he drives me up a wall.” He always has, with his pet names and his cavalier attitude until the moment he switches on and is then aggravatingly brilliant. Eames is a paradox, and for all that Arthur loves paradoxical architecture, paradoxical humans rub him the wrong way. Or at least one does.
Aubrey rolls her eyes. “I don't like Cobb, in fact I think I could say I detest him some days. And I rather like Eames, actually.”
“That doesn't even make sense, that's basically the opposite of how I feel, so what...?”
“Well, clearly some part of you agrees with me, or else I wouldn't be thinking it.” Aubrey tilts her head, giving him a wry smile that he remembers the real Aubrey would use when she thought he was being silly. Her words, not his. “Of course, I suppose the obvious question is, what does that mean?”
Arthur frowns at her. “This is not going to turn into some existential thing,” he tells her severely. “Look, you can't do that kind of shit, Aubrey.”
“It was just a practice run. I'd never sabotage a job that way, you know that.”
“Doesn't matter. If you have to kill someone - anyone - in my dreams from now on, just be quick and neat about it. Don't toy with them.”
“What if it's someone trying to extract from you?”
Arthur considers this. “Do what you like then.”
When he wakes up, he finds that he can't help but think about what she said, and wonder just what the answer to her question is. And he only finds himself thinking about it harder when Eames leaves after the job's done, heading off to Mombasa in Kenya. “It's none of my business, but last I knew a point man's duties didn't involve sexual favors,” Eames comments as he and Arthur clear out the warehouse. Dom's gone to deliver the information and Nash has already fucked off to God knows where, so they're alone.
“You're right, it really isn't your business,” Arthur says evenly.
“You don't want to be Cobb's drug, Arthur,” Eames tells him, his voice quiet. It's one of the same analogies Arthur's used himself, which is startling enough, but there's something in Eames' eyes that keeps him from saying anything at all for a moment. He has a feeling, somehow, that the other man knows what he's talking about.
“I'll keep it in mind,” he says finally.
“Take care of yourself,” Eames says, and then he's out the door. Arthur watches him go, and then takes out his - Aubrey's - die. He rolls it across his palm, not checking if this is reality, but just needing something to toy with as he thinks. For a moment he almost sees it, whatever the answer is to Aubrey's question, but then it's gone again, as if by trying too hard to figure it out he's pushing the knowledge away.
World Begins Again
So take these words and sing out loud
'Cause everyone is forgiven now
'Cause tonight's the night the world begins again - Better Days, Goo Goo Dolls
Inception is impossible. Arthur is sure of it, and yet Dom is equally certain that it can be done. The way he talks about it makes Arthur wonder, and when Dom refuses to say who he did it to, then Arthur knows. Mal. That's how they got out of limbo, that's why Mal was convinced her world wasn't real and why Dom feels so guilty. He gave her the idea.
It explains the crazed shade of Mal that's been showing up on jobs. Arthur wonders if his recent experience of Mal shooting off his kneecap was also partly in revenge for what Aubrey did to Dom nearly two years ago now. Mal scares the hell out of him, because he sees how easily Aubrey could have been like her instead of being half protector and half... Well, he's not sure what, but the word therapist comes to mind. So does the word infuriating, but that's another story.
He still doesn't know what Aubrey is, really, what part of his mind she comes from. And he's spent more and more time trying to figure it out since Mal began showing up. And he's spending more time going under, talking to her, trying to figure out what makes her different. Because he's afraid that if something goes wrong, she might turn into another Mal. They don't need that. It could happen; he wasn't aware he was angry at Dom until she shot him in the knees, so what if something else like that happens? Dom isn't sleeping with him anymore, because Arthur finally said that he was Dom's friend and always would be, but if he wants more empty sex, call a hooker, because Arthur's sick of it. Things were tense for a while after that, but they've evened out.
This is why he volunteers to do all the testing with Yusuf, because he always finds himself with Aubrey while he waits for the kick. He's not sure if it's her influence or a sign that he's mellowing out, but the ridiculously high level of entertainment that Yusuf and especially Eames get out of him falling messily from his chair doesn't bother him.
And then there's Ariadne. He likes her immediately, respects how she's not having any of Dom's bullshit. They're on his level, talking about some of the finer points, when she vanishes abruptly. He knows that means she's been given a kick, though he's not sure why. He waits a minute, but no kick is forthcoming for him. “All right, guys, what are you playing at?” he mutters, sitting down on the bed to wait and rolling his eyes.
“Who would have ever thought you'd be cast in the teacher role?” Aubrey says from the doorway. Arthur glances up.
“Should I be insulted?”
She laughs, a bright sound that takes him back years and still makes his heart clench. God, he wishes she were really his sister. “No, I think you're doing a good job. I rather like Ariadne, incidentally; she's quite a character.”
“Yeah, she definitely - Wait. Is this the same way you “rather like” Eames?” he asks suspiciously. Aubrey shrugs.
“Could be.”
He opens his mouth to reply and - Kick.
Eames and Yusuf don't know why he flips them off this time as they snicker when he's taken it so well before, but the nasty glare he sends them both precludes any questions. What the hell is going on with his mind?
Down The Road I Must Travel
Kyrie eleison
Down the road that I must travel
Kyrie eleison
Through the darkness of the night
Kyrie eleison
Where I'm going will you follow?
Kyrie eleison
On a highway in the light - Kyrie Eleison, Mark Schultz
“So first you kiss Ariadne in a trick you're perfectly aware isn't going to work, then you hook Eames' IV up when you know very well he can do it himself. Figure something out, Arthur?”
He's been left alone on the second level, and he knows he needs to get downstairs to be ready for the kick, not to mention distract security if necessary, but here's Aubrey again. “Your timing sucks,” he tells her.
“Not really. I figured I'd offer my services.” Her skirt suit is black when Arthur turns to look at her, but the blouse under the jacket is crimson. As usual. Arthur raises an eyebrow at her.
“Meaning what exactly?”
She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, reaching down and stealing Eames' gun from where he had it holstered under his jacket. Arthur can't help but smirk at the thought of how the forger would react if he knew that his gun's been appropriated. Aubrey flicks off the safety, glancing up at him.
“I'll stay here, keep an eye on them, while you set up the kick. I promise not to shoot Cobb again.” She glances at the prone extractor. “Hell, what with that crazy projection of his running around, I almost feel sorry for the bastard. And you could use the backup.”
Arthur considers this for a moment, then decides it's not a bad idea. He can't be everywhere at once, and if security shows up here... Aubrey's the only person who can risk death just now; she doesn't have to worry about falling into limbo.
It's the thought of falling himself that makes him ask. “If things go wrong and I die, will you be there with me?” He means will she be there in limbo, and she knows it.
“I'll always follow you, as long as you need me to,” she tells him. “So yeah. But you've got a job to do right now, and hopefully we won't have to worry about that.”
Arthur nods and leaves, and he doesn't see her look carefully at Ariadne and Eames, a strangely sad smile on her face. “I'm not sure how much longer he will need me for, though,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “If I'm right, you two had better measure up.”
Aubrey is still there when Arthur comes back, wracking his brain as to how he can drop the team without gravity. She helps him rope everyone together, but then heads off in another direction. He knows she'll try to keep security off his back, and since he only finds himself fighting one more guard, he figures she must have succeeded overall. It's one less thing to worry about as he's fitting C4 around the elevator car.
Though he can't stop thinking, in the back of his mind, about her opening comment. “Figure something out, Arthur?”
He thinks he might be on the verge of it, and he's not sure how he feels about that. Because there are two questions that have plagued him, and he thinks he's just about to find the answers to them both. One of them might even have two answers, but the other... The other could change everything even more than that.
When he's in the elevator, gripping the bar to brace himself, Arthur's not sure if his white-knuckled grip is in preparation for the explosion or to anchor himself in the midst of his own swirling thoughts.
To See The Daylight
Before the truth goes back into hiding
I wanna decide 'cause it's worth deciding
To work on finding something more than this fear...
Maybe I need to see the daylight
Leave behind the half-life
Don't you see I'm breaking down?
Oh, lately, something here don't feel right
This is just a half-life
Is there really no escape, no escape from time
Of any kind? - Half-Life, Duncan Sheik
After they get off the plane, Arthur goes for drinks with Eames and Ariadne. In low voices they compare stories, and while Arthur is suitably impressed with Eames' one-man army display and Ariadne's nerve in diving into Limbo and ultimately taking care of Mal herself (they were equally impressed by his zero-gravity maneuverings), it's what Ariadne says about why Mal existed that really strikes a chord. She thinks Dom couldn't let go of the guilt, couldn't move on, and that's why.
There's an undercurrent of some kind of energy between the three of them - the answer to one of those questions Arthur has, or so he suspects - but Ariadne has basically handed him the answer to the other on a silver platter. And it sends a chill through him that negates everything, even the strange energy that he wants so badly to pin down, to understand.
“I'll always follow you, as long as you need me to.”
He leaves early, because he can't be with people right now. He goes back to his room and stares at the PASIV, fighting the urge to go under. Finally, he can't take it anymore and he slides the needle into his vein, slumping back against the pillows.
“This wasn't what I meant for you to figure out,” Aubrey says, sitting next to him on the hotel bed. “But I guess you needed to anyway.” Her smile is fond, and sad, and the look in her eyes makes him want to cry. But he hasn't done that since he was seventeen. Not since the day the real Aubrey died, after he identified the body at the morgue and then quietly fell apart on a park bench at midnight.
He doesn't cry. Instead, Arthur swallows past the lump in his throat and looks carefully at her. “I couldn't let you go. The real you. I couldn't accept what happened, so instead I repressed it. I pretended I'd never had a twin, that I wasn't only half a person. But since I was ignoring it, I never learned to cope with it either, did I?”
She shakes her head. “No, you didn't. And so here I am. I'm what you can't face or don't want to admit, that's why my opinions of people so often clash with yours.”
“I think I'm starting to figure that bit out as well, to be honest. Why can't I just fall for one person at a time?”
“I don't know, I may be in your head but that doesn't mean I always understand you. Are you going to do anything about it?”
Arthur considers this. He has a feeling that, had he stayed at the bar, things might have happened. Hell, things might be happening without him. That thought hurts, and yet... “How can I? I think you were wrong about me before, with Dom and Mal. When you said I was afraid to give anything of myself. I think it's more that I don't know how, not really. I don't even know who I am, really. I created who I am now as a defense against everyone, after...”
“But now it's who you are, at least partly.”
“Exactly.” Arthur sighs, looking at his hands. “I can't offer love to anyone until I know who the person doing the offering really is. It wouldn't be fair. So I need to find myself first, as cliché and ridiculous as that sounds.” He looks back up at her, into eyes that are identical to his own. She's so believable, always has been, but she's not real. Intellectually, he's always understood that, but in his heart... In his heart he hadn't wanted to believe it.
He wants to keep her, but he can't. He needs to let go, to come to terms with what happened and figure out who he really is, some kind of balance between the boy who shared in crazy dreams with someone who understood everything he was and the man who never lets anyone in, who is indecipherable. And worse, Arthur can't know that she won't end up being like Mal, if something happens to twist his subconscious.
“I have to let you go,” he says, not looking away from her. Aubrey - or the projection that looks like her, because this is not his sister, and he needs to accept that with his whole being now, not just his head - bites her lip, but keeps her eyes on his.
“I know. I've always known you would, one day. It's OK, Arthur, really. I was never supposed to be here forever.”
The timer runs out on the PASIV and Arthur opens his eyes. This time he doesn't stop the tears and unlike that night in the park, it's not quiet. He shoves his face into a hotel pillow that smells of the bleach and detergent it was cleaned with, and muffles the sobs that are nearly screams. He doesn't know how to do this, how to live, really live, when it's just him, alone. In that sense, he's still seventeen.
Arthur rolls over and stares up at the ceiling, feeling oddly calm after his outburst. He might not know how to do this, but he's going to figure it out. He has to.
Link to Part Two: fae-boleyn.livejournal.com/14999.html
Fandom: Inception
Rating: R, for language.
Pairings: one-sided Arthur/Cobb/Mal, Arthur/Cobb (after a fashion), Ariadne/Eames, Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Summary: In which there is more than one way to be the abandoned half of a whole, and it's just as wrenching even when the bonds are different. Or, Cobb's not the only one with a Shade.
Author's Note: Um... Yeah. So, this began as an exercise in seeing if it was possible to write a non-psychotic shade, and it turned into something that's partly that, part character study, and... I'm not sure what else? Also, this is my longest oneshot (well, it was supposed to be a oneshot...) to date.
When all was done, she turned to run
Dancing to the setting sun
As he watched her
And evermore, he thought he saw
A glimpse of her
Upon the walls forever
He'd hear her say
“Promise me when you see
A white rose
You'll think of me
I love you so
Never let go
I will be
Your ghost of a rose” - Ghost of a Rose, Blackmore's Night
Tell Me How It Ends
You disappear with all your good intentions
And all I am is all I could not mention...
Who will bring me flowers when it's over?
And who will bring me comfort when it's cold?
And who will I belong to when the day just won't give in?
And who will tell me how it ends and how it all begins? - Flowers For a Ghost, Thriving Ivory
Aubrey dies one month and five days before she and Arthur turn eighteen, one month and five days before they're free of the system and can get as far away from Baton Rouge as possible. They've been talking about Nashville, making their way as a singing duo. They're good, and with Aubrey to write the lyrics and Arthur to come up with melodies to back them, they have plenty of material.
All of that comes to an end when Aubrey's killed in, of all things, a bus accident. Arthur's the only real mourner at the funeral, though half their high school showed up in some ridiculous act of hive mind solidarity. It makes him angrier than anything else could have right now, and it's all he can do to just give the eulogy and not scream and curse out these fake people who don't know, who can't know...
What he says is simple, as he toys with a stupid loaded die in his pocket, a die she called her lucky charm that maybe really is lucky because it was the one day she forgot it that she died. He just says that he loved Aubrey and he's going to miss her, trite words that mean nothing. Because Aubrey was the one who had a way with words, who wrote stories and poems when she wasn't penning lyrics. She would know how to say it if he was the one in the ground, she would know how to explain what they were to each other and how impossible it is to contemplate being alone now. But she's not here, and that's the entire problem.
Aubrey is the only one who's ever loved him. They don't know who their father is, he could be any man with dark hair and dark eyes like theirs - their mother is a blue-eyed blonde, so this much they know - and their mother is a second-rate whore and heroin junkie who doesn't care about anything except getting another fix.
He doesn't know how he's supposed to live without her. Aubrey was his twin, his other half, and without her he's lost. Without her he doesn't even know who he is, all of his identity wrapped up in the two of them being more parts of one person than two separate people. They could talk without speaking, they trusted each other implicitly... He doesn't know what to do now.
Remember Me
Whenever you remember times gone by
Remember how we held our heads so high
When all this world was there for us
And we believed that we could touch the sky
Whenever you remember I'll be there... - Whenever You Remember, Carrie Underwood
Arthur doesn't go to Nashville. Instead, he joins the Marine Corps. It seems like a good enough idea, and he can't play music anymore anyway. It makes him think of Aubrey, and the only way he can cope with not having his twin at his side is to not think about her. Anything else might drive him crazy.
They send him to Afghanistan in 2001, not long after his 21st birthday. He gets a reputation for being the guy you go to for impossible assignments, because he'll get things done and ignore the risk. They're all Marines, so they all do their duty regardless, but Arthur has less nerves than anyone. What no one seems to realize is that it's because he just doesn't care. He's not suicidal, but he doesn't have anything to lose, so why care one way or the other? He's surprised the psych evals they do didn't turn it up, but apparently not.
Then he's sent stateside again. His tour's not over, but he doesn't question his orders. When he gets back, they tell him about lucid dreaming. He doesn't believe them until his new CO shoots him in the head and he wakes up gasping on a cot, an IV embedded in his arm.
“Relax, Private Callahan,” says a voice in his ear. Arthur turns his head and finds himself looking into warm brown eyes a shade or two darker than his own. The woman who spoke is not military, he can tell at a glance, a French accent turning her voice musical. “Everything is all right.”
Her name is Mallorie Cobb, and she tells him that she and her husband Dominic are civilian researchers attached to this project, which involves both U.S. and British military. Across from him, a man with short, dark blond hair is shaking his head, looking more than a little sick. Mallorie - Mal - introduces the two men, and that's how Arthur meets Lieutenant Patrick Eames.
“Just Eames, if you don't mind, Callahan.”
“Arthur.” Callahan can refer to his sister; has done, sometimes. Arthur doesn't like to be called by his last name if he can help it.
“Fair enough.”
He doesn't spend too much time with Eames then, and while he can't say he doesn't like the man, the Cobbs take up most of his attention. At first, they simply fascinate him. He's never seen a couple like the two of them, so obviously delighting in each other even when they're buckled down and working. Being around them is to bask in the reflected warmth of their love for each other, and he can't help but like it. Just like he can't help but love dreaming, it's the first time he's loved anything he did since the last time he sat down with his old guitar and a notebook.
Arthur doesn't expect what's coming. He goes under alone one day, even though they advise not doing so. He's not worried; he has his totem, which is Aubrey's old loaded die. He still carries it everywhere, because while he can't stand to think about her, he can't let her go either. The die is a compromise, its familiar feel in his pocket enough to be a reminder without being painful.
He doesn't mean to create the rooftop of their apartment building, where the two of them would go at night to lay back and look at the stars. It's not planned, but when he gets there he doesn't panic. His heart stops when someone sits next to him, though, and he turns to look into eyes exactly like his own.
At first, all Arthur can do is stare. The strange part is that Aubrey doesn't look like how he remembers her, a seventeen-year-old girl with wild, almost desperate dreams. She looks like she's twenty-one, like him, and that doesn't make any sense at all. Except... He's been stuck in a dream for six months before, he ended up growing a full beard. He's never done that, has no idea how he'd really look if he did, but his subconscious filled in the blanks. Maybe that's what's happened here - he knows if he's twenty-one she should be, so...
But that doesn't explain what's going on, why his mind should conjure a projection of her. Because he knows that's what she is, a projection, and yet, this is as close to having his sister back as he's ever going to get, isn't it? “Aubrey...” His voice is a whisper, he can't make it any louder.
“Hey, Arthur,” she says, like it's normal, like she's never been gone. “Weird, isn't it? I guess you still need me around.”
“Of course I do, I've been... I've been a mess,” he admits truthfully. Because he has been. He knows that, has known it all along. He's the only one who doesn't flinch when he's killed in a dream, because he doesn't mind it. He doesn't mind that fleeting second where, totem or no, you're sure it's reality and this is it. And that's not a good thing.
“I know that, I'm part of your mind, aren't I?” She flashes that wicked smile that always precluded some prank or misadventure when they were kids, and he can't help but smile back. She has the same drawl to her voice that Arthur's worked hard to get rid of, and it's amazingly soothing. Something tight loosens in his chest as he talks to her, about anything, everything, and nothing at all.
Arthur wakes up from the dream with a weight he hadn't known he was still carrying suddenly lifted. It's a good feeling, though he is careful, through all the dreams that follow where he sees at least a glimpse of his sister, to remember that it's an illusion. She's not real, but to be honest, he's OK with that. Something is better than nothing, and it's a comfort to have her back like this, no matter if it's only in his head or not.
In My Dream I Win
But I'm not broken
In my dream I win...
And I'm in, you're not
Bad dreams don't stop
'Cause I'm all screwed up
A cosmic castaway - Cosmic Castaway, Electrasy
Of course the others notice her. He tells everyone she's the head of his subconscious security, that for him it works best if he has someone to 'discuss' it with if someone's trying to invade his mind, someone to work with directly rather than just having a mass of armed and dangerous projections to converge on the invaders. From a certain point of view, this is even the truth; Aubrey is his security, and he does work with her that way to guard his mind from invasion. It's just that he didn't create her on purpose, and he's pretty sure whatever part of his subconscious did create her wasn't doing it for the reason he tells people.
Miles thinks this head of security strategy is a novel idea, Dom taps his fingers on his knee and files it away - years later this will be the basis of his Mr. Charles gambit, and Arthur will wish, when it all goes to hell that first time, that he had come up with another cover for Aubrey's presence. Most of the other soldiers, British and American alike, who he works with semi-regularly, just shrug and move on. Only Mal and Eames seem unconvinced, one concerned and the other suspicious, but they never ask.
Arthur works with Eames more than he does with the Cobbs, these days. It's because they're both military while Dom and Mal are civilians. So Eames actually has the most right to ask, and yet he leaves it alone. Arthur appreciates this, and thinks he'd almost like Eames if it wasn't for the other man's devil-may-care attitude and occasional flirty asides.
When the program ends, most of the soldiers go back to their lives. Eames vanishes, and it's not until he's been gone a day that they realize one of the PASIVs left with him. Dom, Mal, and Arthur are probably the only ones who don't really mind.
Because Arthur stays with them. The Cobbs draw him and always have. He's not sure what it is about them, and part of him knows it's just hero worship. But he's falling in love with them, in a way, and he's surprisingly fine with that. It doesn't cause any tension or awkwardness with them, though he suspects that they know, so what's the problem?
“You're only feeling like this because they're safe.”
Arthur glances around. They're doing what they call an extraction for the LAPD, and Dom and Mal are on the second level of the dream. He's guarding them on the first; luckily all's quiet, no projections in sight. Well, except for one. He doesn't even bother to glare at Aubrey, simply raises an eyebrow as he turns his head to look at her.
They're in a fancy hotel room, having just left the equally fancy restaurant on the first floor, so the fact that Aubrey is in a red, ankle-length silk dress is not a surprise. He's noticed that she always wears red in the dreams, though he's not entirely sure why. She's leaning against the wall, dark eyes studying the sleeping Cobbs thoughtfully.
“What makes you say that?” Arthur wants to know, frowning.
“You love them, but they'll never demand any more from you than they're already asking. They don't need it, they have each other. So you can... love them from afar, like some modern version of a knight errant, and never have to actually give anything real.”
Arthur glares at her, not liking this assessment. And the worst of it, he can't even say she's wrong. After all, she's not real, she's a part of his mind. Which means on some level, what she says probably is true. He's begun to wonder just what this ghost or shade or whatever Aubrey is - she's more than a simple projection, after all - means, what part of his mind she represents.
“It's still love, what's the point?”
“The point is that you're not taking any risks. You're too scared to.”
“Aubrey, I don't need to hear this right now. I'm working.”
“Fine, but one of these days you'll have to listen to me. Can't run from your own subconscious.”
Of course he can. Somehow. Arthur hasn't worked out how yet, but he's sure it must be possible.
Losing Grip
You, you need to listen
I'm starting to trip
I'm losing my grip
And I'm in this thing alone - Losing Grip, Avril Lavigne
What happens to Mal scares the hell out of him. He's right there with Dom, trying to convince her that this world is real, but it doesn't do anyone any good. Arthur's the one watching James and Philippa the night that Mal jumps, he's the one who has to tell them that Mommy isn't coming home. Then he takes charge of a shell-shocked Dom, calling one of his contacts in the government and getting them both out of the country before the cops show up at the door.
Arthur's the point man, and he's a survivor. He can handle this. He can handle getting Dom through the first weeks, first months. And then suddenly it's a year, over a year, and a job goes wrong. They could have died, almost did die, and Arthur forgets himself. Because if he doesn't have Dom he doesn't have anyone, except Aubrey who's nothing but a shadow anyway. He hugs the other man like he'd die if he let go, but he's not expecting it when Dom doesn't hug back, instead shoves him against the closest wall and crushes his lips to Arthur's.
Arthur knows what this is. Sex as a drug, as alcohol, as something to make Dom forget, for a while. Dom knows that Arthur will let him do it, so he takes and takes and gives nothing back. Arthur isn't happy that he's finally getting something, anything from Dom, he doesn't hate the other man for using him. He can't seem to feel anything about the situation at all.
He's embarrassed when they meet Eames again, though. Eames, who has spent the same years Arthur, Dom, and Mal spent using dream tech for police work and therapy carving himself a niche in the dreaming underworld. Eames, who as a forger is painfully talented at reading human interaction. It only takes one job with Eames and Arthur knows that the Brit is aware of this strange new turn in the relationship between the point man and the extractor. He doesn't know why it bothers him so much, but it does.
Still, he thinks he feels nothing about the situation itself. Until a practice run one day, Dom and Eames attempting to extract from Arthur as a test for them all. Dom and Eames are testing their skill at evading a militarized subconscious, Arthur is testing the strength of his security. To his surprise, he doesn't see Aubrey at all. She's not the entirety of his security, of course, that would be stupid, but usually during runs like this he'll at least see her.
The dream ends abruptly, and he finds upon waking that it's because Dom shoved him out of his chair. “What the fuck was that, Arthur?” Dom screams at him while Arthur is still blinking awake.
“What was what, Dom?”
Dom opens his mouth to say something else furious, but Eames cuts in, voice mild. The tone doesn't match the sharp, considering look in his eyes. “That girl of yours decided to shoot out Cobb's kneecaps before she gave him one between the eyes.”
Shit. “I didn't do that on purpose,” he says honestly. Dom scoffs.
“Then why did she torture me before she killed me, but Eames just got a clean shot to the back of the head?”
Arthur blinks, and says nothing, because he can't explain that one. Even to him it makes no sense. But that night, he takes charge of the PASIV like he always does, and plugs in like he tries not to do that often. He opens his eyes to find himself in the warehouse they're working out of, Aubrey perched on one of the tables. She's all in black except for the jacket which is practically a red version of his favorite brown leather jacket.
“What the hell was that today?” he asks without preamble, noting that he's wearing the jacket hers is modeled off of. She shrugs, winding a lock of dark hair around one finger.
“I've been pissed off at dear Dominic since he started fucking you.”
“I don't see why. It doesn't bother me, it shouldn't bother you. If anything, you should be a bitch to Eames; he drives me up a wall.” He always has, with his pet names and his cavalier attitude until the moment he switches on and is then aggravatingly brilliant. Eames is a paradox, and for all that Arthur loves paradoxical architecture, paradoxical humans rub him the wrong way. Or at least one does.
Aubrey rolls her eyes. “I don't like Cobb, in fact I think I could say I detest him some days. And I rather like Eames, actually.”
“That doesn't even make sense, that's basically the opposite of how I feel, so what...?”
“Well, clearly some part of you agrees with me, or else I wouldn't be thinking it.” Aubrey tilts her head, giving him a wry smile that he remembers the real Aubrey would use when she thought he was being silly. Her words, not his. “Of course, I suppose the obvious question is, what does that mean?”
Arthur frowns at her. “This is not going to turn into some existential thing,” he tells her severely. “Look, you can't do that kind of shit, Aubrey.”
“It was just a practice run. I'd never sabotage a job that way, you know that.”
“Doesn't matter. If you have to kill someone - anyone - in my dreams from now on, just be quick and neat about it. Don't toy with them.”
“What if it's someone trying to extract from you?”
Arthur considers this. “Do what you like then.”
When he wakes up, he finds that he can't help but think about what she said, and wonder just what the answer to her question is. And he only finds himself thinking about it harder when Eames leaves after the job's done, heading off to Mombasa in Kenya. “It's none of my business, but last I knew a point man's duties didn't involve sexual favors,” Eames comments as he and Arthur clear out the warehouse. Dom's gone to deliver the information and Nash has already fucked off to God knows where, so they're alone.
“You're right, it really isn't your business,” Arthur says evenly.
“You don't want to be Cobb's drug, Arthur,” Eames tells him, his voice quiet. It's one of the same analogies Arthur's used himself, which is startling enough, but there's something in Eames' eyes that keeps him from saying anything at all for a moment. He has a feeling, somehow, that the other man knows what he's talking about.
“I'll keep it in mind,” he says finally.
“Take care of yourself,” Eames says, and then he's out the door. Arthur watches him go, and then takes out his - Aubrey's - die. He rolls it across his palm, not checking if this is reality, but just needing something to toy with as he thinks. For a moment he almost sees it, whatever the answer is to Aubrey's question, but then it's gone again, as if by trying too hard to figure it out he's pushing the knowledge away.
World Begins Again
So take these words and sing out loud
'Cause everyone is forgiven now
'Cause tonight's the night the world begins again - Better Days, Goo Goo Dolls
Inception is impossible. Arthur is sure of it, and yet Dom is equally certain that it can be done. The way he talks about it makes Arthur wonder, and when Dom refuses to say who he did it to, then Arthur knows. Mal. That's how they got out of limbo, that's why Mal was convinced her world wasn't real and why Dom feels so guilty. He gave her the idea.
It explains the crazed shade of Mal that's been showing up on jobs. Arthur wonders if his recent experience of Mal shooting off his kneecap was also partly in revenge for what Aubrey did to Dom nearly two years ago now. Mal scares the hell out of him, because he sees how easily Aubrey could have been like her instead of being half protector and half... Well, he's not sure what, but the word therapist comes to mind. So does the word infuriating, but that's another story.
He still doesn't know what Aubrey is, really, what part of his mind she comes from. And he's spent more and more time trying to figure it out since Mal began showing up. And he's spending more time going under, talking to her, trying to figure out what makes her different. Because he's afraid that if something goes wrong, she might turn into another Mal. They don't need that. It could happen; he wasn't aware he was angry at Dom until she shot him in the knees, so what if something else like that happens? Dom isn't sleeping with him anymore, because Arthur finally said that he was Dom's friend and always would be, but if he wants more empty sex, call a hooker, because Arthur's sick of it. Things were tense for a while after that, but they've evened out.
This is why he volunteers to do all the testing with Yusuf, because he always finds himself with Aubrey while he waits for the kick. He's not sure if it's her influence or a sign that he's mellowing out, but the ridiculously high level of entertainment that Yusuf and especially Eames get out of him falling messily from his chair doesn't bother him.
And then there's Ariadne. He likes her immediately, respects how she's not having any of Dom's bullshit. They're on his level, talking about some of the finer points, when she vanishes abruptly. He knows that means she's been given a kick, though he's not sure why. He waits a minute, but no kick is forthcoming for him. “All right, guys, what are you playing at?” he mutters, sitting down on the bed to wait and rolling his eyes.
“Who would have ever thought you'd be cast in the teacher role?” Aubrey says from the doorway. Arthur glances up.
“Should I be insulted?”
She laughs, a bright sound that takes him back years and still makes his heart clench. God, he wishes she were really his sister. “No, I think you're doing a good job. I rather like Ariadne, incidentally; she's quite a character.”
“Yeah, she definitely - Wait. Is this the same way you “rather like” Eames?” he asks suspiciously. Aubrey shrugs.
“Could be.”
He opens his mouth to reply and - Kick.
Eames and Yusuf don't know why he flips them off this time as they snicker when he's taken it so well before, but the nasty glare he sends them both precludes any questions. What the hell is going on with his mind?
Down The Road I Must Travel
Kyrie eleison
Down the road that I must travel
Kyrie eleison
Through the darkness of the night
Kyrie eleison
Where I'm going will you follow?
Kyrie eleison
On a highway in the light - Kyrie Eleison, Mark Schultz
“So first you kiss Ariadne in a trick you're perfectly aware isn't going to work, then you hook Eames' IV up when you know very well he can do it himself. Figure something out, Arthur?”
He's been left alone on the second level, and he knows he needs to get downstairs to be ready for the kick, not to mention distract security if necessary, but here's Aubrey again. “Your timing sucks,” he tells her.
“Not really. I figured I'd offer my services.” Her skirt suit is black when Arthur turns to look at her, but the blouse under the jacket is crimson. As usual. Arthur raises an eyebrow at her.
“Meaning what exactly?”
She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, reaching down and stealing Eames' gun from where he had it holstered under his jacket. Arthur can't help but smirk at the thought of how the forger would react if he knew that his gun's been appropriated. Aubrey flicks off the safety, glancing up at him.
“I'll stay here, keep an eye on them, while you set up the kick. I promise not to shoot Cobb again.” She glances at the prone extractor. “Hell, what with that crazy projection of his running around, I almost feel sorry for the bastard. And you could use the backup.”
Arthur considers this for a moment, then decides it's not a bad idea. He can't be everywhere at once, and if security shows up here... Aubrey's the only person who can risk death just now; she doesn't have to worry about falling into limbo.
It's the thought of falling himself that makes him ask. “If things go wrong and I die, will you be there with me?” He means will she be there in limbo, and she knows it.
“I'll always follow you, as long as you need me to,” she tells him. “So yeah. But you've got a job to do right now, and hopefully we won't have to worry about that.”
Arthur nods and leaves, and he doesn't see her look carefully at Ariadne and Eames, a strangely sad smile on her face. “I'm not sure how much longer he will need me for, though,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “If I'm right, you two had better measure up.”
Aubrey is still there when Arthur comes back, wracking his brain as to how he can drop the team without gravity. She helps him rope everyone together, but then heads off in another direction. He knows she'll try to keep security off his back, and since he only finds himself fighting one more guard, he figures she must have succeeded overall. It's one less thing to worry about as he's fitting C4 around the elevator car.
Though he can't stop thinking, in the back of his mind, about her opening comment. “Figure something out, Arthur?”
He thinks he might be on the verge of it, and he's not sure how he feels about that. Because there are two questions that have plagued him, and he thinks he's just about to find the answers to them both. One of them might even have two answers, but the other... The other could change everything even more than that.
When he's in the elevator, gripping the bar to brace himself, Arthur's not sure if his white-knuckled grip is in preparation for the explosion or to anchor himself in the midst of his own swirling thoughts.
To See The Daylight
Before the truth goes back into hiding
I wanna decide 'cause it's worth deciding
To work on finding something more than this fear...
Maybe I need to see the daylight
Leave behind the half-life
Don't you see I'm breaking down?
Oh, lately, something here don't feel right
This is just a half-life
Is there really no escape, no escape from time
Of any kind? - Half-Life, Duncan Sheik
After they get off the plane, Arthur goes for drinks with Eames and Ariadne. In low voices they compare stories, and while Arthur is suitably impressed with Eames' one-man army display and Ariadne's nerve in diving into Limbo and ultimately taking care of Mal herself (they were equally impressed by his zero-gravity maneuverings), it's what Ariadne says about why Mal existed that really strikes a chord. She thinks Dom couldn't let go of the guilt, couldn't move on, and that's why.
There's an undercurrent of some kind of energy between the three of them - the answer to one of those questions Arthur has, or so he suspects - but Ariadne has basically handed him the answer to the other on a silver platter. And it sends a chill through him that negates everything, even the strange energy that he wants so badly to pin down, to understand.
“I'll always follow you, as long as you need me to.”
He leaves early, because he can't be with people right now. He goes back to his room and stares at the PASIV, fighting the urge to go under. Finally, he can't take it anymore and he slides the needle into his vein, slumping back against the pillows.
“This wasn't what I meant for you to figure out,” Aubrey says, sitting next to him on the hotel bed. “But I guess you needed to anyway.” Her smile is fond, and sad, and the look in her eyes makes him want to cry. But he hasn't done that since he was seventeen. Not since the day the real Aubrey died, after he identified the body at the morgue and then quietly fell apart on a park bench at midnight.
He doesn't cry. Instead, Arthur swallows past the lump in his throat and looks carefully at her. “I couldn't let you go. The real you. I couldn't accept what happened, so instead I repressed it. I pretended I'd never had a twin, that I wasn't only half a person. But since I was ignoring it, I never learned to cope with it either, did I?”
She shakes her head. “No, you didn't. And so here I am. I'm what you can't face or don't want to admit, that's why my opinions of people so often clash with yours.”
“I think I'm starting to figure that bit out as well, to be honest. Why can't I just fall for one person at a time?”
“I don't know, I may be in your head but that doesn't mean I always understand you. Are you going to do anything about it?”
Arthur considers this. He has a feeling that, had he stayed at the bar, things might have happened. Hell, things might be happening without him. That thought hurts, and yet... “How can I? I think you were wrong about me before, with Dom and Mal. When you said I was afraid to give anything of myself. I think it's more that I don't know how, not really. I don't even know who I am, really. I created who I am now as a defense against everyone, after...”
“But now it's who you are, at least partly.”
“Exactly.” Arthur sighs, looking at his hands. “I can't offer love to anyone until I know who the person doing the offering really is. It wouldn't be fair. So I need to find myself first, as cliché and ridiculous as that sounds.” He looks back up at her, into eyes that are identical to his own. She's so believable, always has been, but she's not real. Intellectually, he's always understood that, but in his heart... In his heart he hadn't wanted to believe it.
He wants to keep her, but he can't. He needs to let go, to come to terms with what happened and figure out who he really is, some kind of balance between the boy who shared in crazy dreams with someone who understood everything he was and the man who never lets anyone in, who is indecipherable. And worse, Arthur can't know that she won't end up being like Mal, if something happens to twist his subconscious.
“I have to let you go,” he says, not looking away from her. Aubrey - or the projection that looks like her, because this is not his sister, and he needs to accept that with his whole being now, not just his head - bites her lip, but keeps her eyes on his.
“I know. I've always known you would, one day. It's OK, Arthur, really. I was never supposed to be here forever.”
The timer runs out on the PASIV and Arthur opens his eyes. This time he doesn't stop the tears and unlike that night in the park, it's not quiet. He shoves his face into a hotel pillow that smells of the bleach and detergent it was cleaned with, and muffles the sobs that are nearly screams. He doesn't know how to do this, how to live, really live, when it's just him, alone. In that sense, he's still seventeen.
Arthur rolls over and stares up at the ceiling, feeling oddly calm after his outburst. He might not know how to do this, but he's going to figure it out. He has to.
Link to Part Two: fae-boleyn.livejournal.com/14999.html