Shattered Beneath Your Fingers (Part 2)
Warnings: character death
Author's notes: This is a companion story to The Consequences of Trust a.k.a. Eames POV.
Beta(s):
queenofinfinite and space_raider182
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the Christopher Nolan and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. They are not mine, I just like to play with them.
_______
Part 1
Eames has never quite gotten over the fact that when a person dies in a dream, their body stays. Just like in real life, you have to actually dispose of it to be rid of it’s presence. It’s not at all like taking a kick out. One’s mind can’t wrap around the sudden disappearance of a person without reason, so it doesn’t try to fill in the blanks. But death? Death the mind knows. It understands that when a person is shot, or beaten, or strangled, that it leaves a corpse. It leaves painfully detailed, perfectly accurate corpses.
Eames is disposing of Arthur’s right now. As much as Weiss takes glee in acts of violence, he doesn’t like sharing space with the dead. So it’s Kohler’s job to clean up the mess, which means it’s Eames’ job to clean up this one. He imagines that Kohler would do something decidedly thug, like dropping the weighted body into a river, or leaving it stripped naked on a pile of garbage in the red light district.
But this is a dream, and this is Arthur. This is Arthur’s body, even if it isn’t real. Even if it’s just a creation of Eames’ subconscious he can’t bear to disrespect it any more than he already has. It’s insane, feeling this way, because he knows that Arthur is fine up top. He could place the body behind the warehouse and return quickly to finish the dream. There are no police to avoid or a need hide any evidence. Still, he can’t just leave Arthur’s body out, unattended, undignified, and broken.
He pushes the loose hair from Arthur’s broken face, turning the more damaged side away so he doesn’t have to look upon the worst of the wounds. Arthur appears so young in death. His pallor magnified with loss of blood. His lips parted slightly and unmoving because no breath passes through them. After a moment Eames can’t bear to look any longer, an aching pain winding it’s way under his ribs at the sight. He wraps the body in a discarded tarp found somewhere in the warehouse and takes it out to the boot of a car.
He drives for a few minutes until he’s enough distance away to not disturb the dream in Weiss’ presence. Along the way he drops his forge. It’s unnecessary, and truthfully he needs a break. Eames stops the car near a park and sits for a moment, hands still clutching the wheel. He draws in a shaky breath before opening his door. Gathering Arthur’s body out of the car he carries it into the grass of the field. He concentrates and the earth opens into a shallow grave. It’s a sobering construction, packed dirt walls too geometric for the beauty of the park. It’s like an open wound upon the landscape.
He kneels, placing his bundle into the earth, unable to stop his hand from smoothing over the plastic like one would straighten a baby’s blanket. He sighs, a short puff of suffering air before he stands. When he turns to walk away the grave fills itself in, green grass concealing it within seconds.
***
His eyes blink open to the dimly lit hotel room. He slowly sits up form the bed and pulls free from the PASIV line. The room smells of takeout and something sour. Ariadne or Arthur must have gone for food while he and Jackson were still in the dream.
It had been a success. After Arthur’s death Weiss had noticeably calmed. Their scenarios had executed flawlessly. Jackson would debrief Arthur on the details and Arthur would then relay the findings to their client. They were successful and Eames couldn’t help but feel relief that everything that had happened was actually worth something.
After gaining his bearings again he catches eyes with Arthur, keeping his face as stony as possible. He doesn’t want to reveal too much. Arthur, with his logic and practicality would just laugh in his face if he let on that the dream bothered him at all. Eames doesn’t want to know what Arthur would think if he knew that Eames had taken the time to bury his body in a park.
But Arthur just stares at him, shifting nervously in his clothes. The gesture is so unlike Arthur that Eames is a little startled. When he tries to approach Arthur the man retreats to the bathroom. He obviously doesn’t want to speak to Eames. And that’s fine. Eames lingers a bit longer, just to make sure. But it’s obvious that Arthur just needs space. It was a difficult dream after all.
He can give Arthur space.
continue to part 3
Author's notes: This is a companion story to The Consequences of Trust a.k.a. Eames POV.
Beta(s):
queenofinfinite and space_raider182 Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the Christopher Nolan and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. They are not mine, I just like to play with them.
_______
Part 1
Eames has never quite gotten over the fact that when a person dies in a dream, their body stays. Just like in real life, you have to actually dispose of it to be rid of it’s presence. It’s not at all like taking a kick out. One’s mind can’t wrap around the sudden disappearance of a person without reason, so it doesn’t try to fill in the blanks. But death? Death the mind knows. It understands that when a person is shot, or beaten, or strangled, that it leaves a corpse. It leaves painfully detailed, perfectly accurate corpses.
Eames is disposing of Arthur’s right now. As much as Weiss takes glee in acts of violence, he doesn’t like sharing space with the dead. So it’s Kohler’s job to clean up the mess, which means it’s Eames’ job to clean up this one. He imagines that Kohler would do something decidedly thug, like dropping the weighted body into a river, or leaving it stripped naked on a pile of garbage in the red light district.
But this is a dream, and this is Arthur. This is Arthur’s body, even if it isn’t real. Even if it’s just a creation of Eames’ subconscious he can’t bear to disrespect it any more than he already has. It’s insane, feeling this way, because he knows that Arthur is fine up top. He could place the body behind the warehouse and return quickly to finish the dream. There are no police to avoid or a need hide any evidence. Still, he can’t just leave Arthur’s body out, unattended, undignified, and broken.
He pushes the loose hair from Arthur’s broken face, turning the more damaged side away so he doesn’t have to look upon the worst of the wounds. Arthur appears so young in death. His pallor magnified with loss of blood. His lips parted slightly and unmoving because no breath passes through them. After a moment Eames can’t bear to look any longer, an aching pain winding it’s way under his ribs at the sight. He wraps the body in a discarded tarp found somewhere in the warehouse and takes it out to the boot of a car.
He drives for a few minutes until he’s enough distance away to not disturb the dream in Weiss’ presence. Along the way he drops his forge. It’s unnecessary, and truthfully he needs a break. Eames stops the car near a park and sits for a moment, hands still clutching the wheel. He draws in a shaky breath before opening his door. Gathering Arthur’s body out of the car he carries it into the grass of the field. He concentrates and the earth opens into a shallow grave. It’s a sobering construction, packed dirt walls too geometric for the beauty of the park. It’s like an open wound upon the landscape.
He kneels, placing his bundle into the earth, unable to stop his hand from smoothing over the plastic like one would straighten a baby’s blanket. He sighs, a short puff of suffering air before he stands. When he turns to walk away the grave fills itself in, green grass concealing it within seconds.
***
His eyes blink open to the dimly lit hotel room. He slowly sits up form the bed and pulls free from the PASIV line. The room smells of takeout and something sour. Ariadne or Arthur must have gone for food while he and Jackson were still in the dream.
It had been a success. After Arthur’s death Weiss had noticeably calmed. Their scenarios had executed flawlessly. Jackson would debrief Arthur on the details and Arthur would then relay the findings to their client. They were successful and Eames couldn’t help but feel relief that everything that had happened was actually worth something.
After gaining his bearings again he catches eyes with Arthur, keeping his face as stony as possible. He doesn’t want to reveal too much. Arthur, with his logic and practicality would just laugh in his face if he let on that the dream bothered him at all. Eames doesn’t want to know what Arthur would think if he knew that Eames had taken the time to bury his body in a park.
But Arthur just stares at him, shifting nervously in his clothes. The gesture is so unlike Arthur that Eames is a little startled. When he tries to approach Arthur the man retreats to the bathroom. He obviously doesn’t want to speak to Eames. And that’s fine. Eames lingers a bit longer, just to make sure. But it’s obvious that Arthur just needs space. It was a difficult dream after all.
He can give Arthur space.
continue to part 3