Her shoe fell to the ground below. Her eyes looked into his; sad, hopeless. He pleaded with her, but she had already made up her mind. She scooted forward. He yelled, calling her name.
And then she was gone.
There was a deep set pain in his body. He turned back into the room. The room Mal had left in shambles. He was suffocating, trying his hardest to get his grip on reality.
Reality.
He stumbled towards the table. Mal's top was lying on its side, forgotten. Dom picked it up, rolling it in between his fingers. He spun it on the glass table. It made several circular trips, but eventually began to topple over. It clattered loudly against the table as it fell. This was real. Everything was real.
He picked up the top again, squeezing it in his hand. He was lost. He had no idea where he was supposed to go from here. And it was all his fault. He knew it was his fault. Numbly, he stood, walking back to the windowsill. The white curtains were blowing in the breeze. He didn't look down, couldn't look down. He merely stood, eyes closed, facing the building across the way, feeling the cool wind play across his face.
This was real. This was where he needed to stay.
Still, in the back of his mind, Dom wondered what it would be like to join Mal. It would only be one little inch off the windowsill. It seemed that was all that was separating them. His feet moved of their own volition, taking him closer to the windowsill. His eyes snapped open, and he forced himself to stop moving.
James and Phillipa. He had to think of them. They needed him. Mal had left them. He had to take care of them. That is, if he could ever see them again. Mal had left him in a dangerous predicament. He teetered by the windowsill, finding it hard to move his feet. The sound of sirens brought him back to his senses.
He turned away from the windowsill, still clenching Mal's metal top in his fist. He needed to think of something and fast. He couldn't stay here. Without really thinking anything through, he picked up the phone and dialed the first number that came to mind. He would leave the country. Do what he knew best. Do anything it took to go home to his children. But never touch inception again.
