Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Title: Track Marks
Warnings: Some slash, hints of drug use (assumed and used).
Rating: Let's go with PG-13 or T for Teen.
Characters/Pairing: Eames, Arthur, Cobb, Yusuf, Saito, Ariadne, Mal, Fischer, Eames/Arthur
Author's Note: So. This isn't my first foray into the Inception fandom (that was accomplished on LJ) however, it is my first posting on this site. And I know the movie came out a while ago, in fact this was written awhile ago. But, I finally finished it and looked it over again and decided that while it's not perfect, I like it and I'm posting it. Please let me know what you think and if I should continue in this fandom. Thank you.
1.
When Eames gets bored he sometimes maps the track marks across his arms. It's a grown up version of connect the dots. But these aren't numbered and the pictures never come out the same. To this day he's gotten a palm tree, a clown head, and what looked to be a cross between a giraffe and a panda. He doesn't question the last one too much.
He is on the ferry crossing to Ireland from Wales when the old woman next to him makes a tsking sound in the back of her throat. He looks at her in surprise and she points to his bare forearms. "You're a good looking young man. You don't want to waste your life that way," she tells him. "Drugs are for dreamers; need to keep yourself firm in this world if you ever want to amount to anything."
He laughs at that, smiles charmingly until her sagging cheeks turn a pretty rose color. "Precisely," he tells her. "I'm not one for heroin though."
The woman gives him a sad smile. "Ah," she murmurs. She pats his hand consolingly and he doesn't correct her misinterpretation this time.
It isn't an unpleasant crossing after, though later he invests in long sleeves and jackets to avoid undue attention.
2.
Mal always wears a watch over the marks on her wrist, or a jumble of glittering bracelets. She doesn't like the look of the marks even though Dom has told her no one notices. After tough extractions she will tighten the black band of her watch over her left wrist, will adjust it until the buckle is directly over the pinprick. If it's an easy extraction it will be the gold watch Dom got her for their second anniversary. For routine practices it'll be a set of three silver bangles that belonged to her grandmother.
After they get back from Limbo it's worse. Her fingers scratch at the marks until they are red and beading with blood droplets. When Dom pries her fingers away from the marks, grasps her shoulders and stares in her eyes, she simply shakes her head. "I do not understand," she whispers. "This is a dream, Dom. Why don't they go away?" He presses a kiss to her forehead and tells her it's reality, but she knows he's wrong. The marks never itched when she was awake before.
Five months before their anniversary, and two days after his attempt to persuade her, she takes a carving knife to her arm and tries to cut away the itch.
3.
Yusuf has never understood the draw of the PASIV device. This doesn't mean he doesn't exploit it to the fullest. He's made a comfortable living, mixing the sedative chemicals for the addicts and casual dreamers. He's made a rich living on the extractors and business men trying to forget their wives.
He thinks his dislike of the process comes from a strong aversion to needles he developed at an early age. Just the sight of them makes his blood run cold. But to be the best in the business you either need to pay out the big bucks to the guinea pigs or roll up your sleeve. There was a lot of sleeve rolling in the early years.
Every so often he'll catch sight of a small needle mark on his wrist and he'll frown and rub it. His stomach will churn and roil, imagining the pinch of the needle as it slides home. It's ridiculous, he knows. He's seen worse arms, he sees worse daily downstairs. Seeing it on his own skin though makes a chill run down his spine that not even Mombasa's heat can quell.
When Inception rolls around, he spends an unfortunately large sum on Dramamine.
4.
Saito strokes the mark on his wrist when he wakes on the train. It's sticky with adhesive and the mark is a raised bump. They had failed, he knows. But there had been something there, with the two in the suits. The ones he dealt with the most. The third one, who messed up the carpet, he had not been as impressive. It gives him an idea though and he picks up his phone to make the necessary calls. He's sure he'll be able to track them down.
After weeks of training for, and then the completion of, Inception, his arm is riddled with more of the tiny marks. He invests in Vaseline and rubs the oily substance into his skin to try and assuage his mistreated arm.
His wife greets each new mark with stony silence and disapproving looks. "I do not understand you anymore," she tells him one night. She purchases a train ticket home to Nagoya and he is relieved. His mistress likes to run her tongue over them and leave sticky lip gloss on each raised bump. "So wild," she coos with wide eyes and too much rouge. "Why won't you share with me?" He buys her heroin and she is content. His employees do not notice and they do not comment. He thinks he may appreciate them the most.
When he decides to approach the team with another job just shy of Inception, he buys out the Vaseline Company and keeps a hefty supply on hand at all times.
5.
Robert dreams of a sack over his head, he dreams of a man in a suit with slicked back hair, and he dreams of needles in his arm. He dreams of dying and waking and dying and waking and dying again. He wakes on a plane with a jolt; the Asian man is still asleep across the aisle. He frowns and rubs at his temples, flags the stewardess down and orders a scotch.
The girl who looks too young for first class leans over while he's waiting for his drink. "Are you okay?" she asks softly.
"Yeah," he replies, surprised. The stewardess returns with his drink and he reaches for it. Another frown creases his brow as he notices the mark on his skin, exposed when his sleeve rides up. The girl is still watching him though she's pretending to read a magazine. "Hm," he muses. Idly he scratches the insect bite and sips his drink.
There's silence in the cabin for the rest of the flight.
6.
Arthur has twenty three needle marks on his right arm and thirty eight on his left. He knows because he's counted each one. Repeatedly. Some are larger than the others from being used more than once. Some are old and faint from his beginning days.
Arthur doesn't cover them up all the time. He seems generally unaware of them despite knowing the exact amount he has. The looks he sometimes gets when he waits in line while buying groceries go unnoticed. They're a part of what he does and Arthur has never been ashamed of what he does.
Arthur knows each of the sixty-one marks, can tell their history. The one on the inside of his right elbow is from that job in Budapest. The three in a horizontal line across his left forearm, bigger than the others, are from his early research days. He knows because he counts them, etches them in memory as an almost-second totem.
Eames knows because he kisses each one before bed.
7.
Ariadne goes home for a brief time after her sixth job with the team. It's after finals and she hasn't seen her mother in a year. Her mother is ecstatic with the surprise visit. She asks about school, boys, and her strange new job. Ariadne hedges, talks about building fantastic buildings instead, talks about the guys on the team (no Mom, I'm not dating any of them, not even sleeping with any of them).
It's during her description of the thirty floor modern hotel with one side all in glass that she gets over exuberant. Her hands dance and flutter as she tries to paint the picture in the air. Her mother's eyes narrow and reach out, grasp her arm and twist it almost painfully. "Mom!" she exclaims.
"What is this, Ari? I know what these are, I'm a nurse. How could you get involved in drugs?" her mother demands. "Which of those boys got you hooked?"
She opens her mouth to protest, to explain that she's not on drugs. She donates blood or had to have testing. She's not hooked on anything. What comes out though is one word, "Cobb." Her mother's face crumbles. "But it's not…it's more than…."
Later that night her mother hands her a Post-it with the name, address, and phone number to a rehab center. She tosses it onto her old desk and sits on her old bed, in her old room, and stares at her arms. Her mother doesn't talk to her for three days.
Arthur leaves two voicemails about a new job, Cobb leaves three. Eames doesn't leave any but there are over thirteen missed calls from him. Yusuf has a new compound he's excited to have tested. Ariadne doesn't return any of them. Instead she lies in bed and tries to remember the last time she dreamed without a needle in her arm.
She can't.
8.
Cobb lies on the bed next to Phillipa, reading her The Cat in the Hat before bed. She curls up with her head against his chest and he strokes her hair. He isn't sure how he survived so long without being here with his children. He's at the part where the Cat is cleaning the house when Phillipa's hand reaches out slowly.
"Daddy, why do you have scars?" she asks. Her face tilts up and her eyes are solemn as they regard him.
"It's from my work," he replies. Her fingers trace the markings softly.
"It's like what you get from shots," she says finally.
He chuckles and ruffles her hair. "Exactly," he agrees. Her body is heavy with sleep and she lets her arm drop back to the bed.
"Uncle Arthur and Uncle Eames have them too." He nods because she's always been observant for nearly-six. She examines her own unblemished arm. "I don't want to work where I get shots all the time."
He smiles and kisses the top of her head. "Good, I don't want you to either," he murmurs. He turns the page and continues reading.