Hello all! Just an idea I felt like playing around with! :D Okay, so I'm not sure about everyone's ages but I pegged Arthur to be around 26-27. If that feels off for some reason just let me know! ^.- BTW, the title came from Marilyn Manson's version of this song. If you've never heard it, its crazy/awesome/creepy!
None of them are mine, I'm just playing with them =p
Eames always found it surprising that they could still dream. Maybe not to the extent of a normal person, but it was a dream nonetheless. Your own dreams were boring though; it was nothing compared to the worlds created in the minds of the Targets they had for their jobs. As Ariadne had once said, "Its pure creation." And that was a problem because after a while, your own dreams became nothing more than boring substitutes for the work that was being done elsewhere.
He didn't know what the others dreamed of when they weren't hooked up to the machine. He tried to picture it a few times but realized he'd been in this business for too long when he found himself creating dreams and projections for each of them. He was sure each of them had their own way of dreaming: Cobb's were probably in layers (he'd been doing this longer than any of them had it Eames really couldn't see him dreaming any other way). Ariadne was creative, the architect, so her dreams were probably elegant layouts, stories just waiting to be told. He wasn't sure about Yusuf or Saito's dreams, he'd never been around either of them long enough to really question it. He was pretty sure Arthur's dreams consisted of nothing but a long road, leading to nowhere. Honestly, the young man had no imagination whatsoever.
His dreams on the other hand had always been a bit strange. They were the snapshot kind of dreams, various pictures and images randomly thrown together deep in the recesses of his mind and projected upward when he was asleep. They were never logical, they didn't follow any kind of story or pattern, and they made absolutely no sense even on the best days. It had gotten worse since the Inception job; spending too much time in those dreams had done wonders for his already slightly cracked psyche. But these dreams were different, they felt...dangerous. Like if he was in any one of them for too long, he'd never get out. Maybe it was all that talk about limbo.
He found himself developing a bit of insomnia. Sleeping pills didn't help and he didn't want to be put under if he didn't have to be. So he wandered around the warehouse late at night, wondering about his team mate's dreams and trying not to focus on his own. He'd gotten into the habit of watching the others sleep recently (that came out a lot creepier than he meant it to). Being awake when no one else was resulted in him studying the odd quirks and habits his sleeping team mates had. It helped pass the time.
When they were on a job, Cobb almost always fell asleep at his desk, his body slumped over a pile of folders and files and his head resting on his arms. That's the way Eames found him tonight. They were currently working for a law firm and there were going to be not one but two dream jobs going on at the same time so the preparation was extensive. He'd been gathering information for a little over a week.
Ariadne was asleep on a couch a few feet away, curled on her side and breathing deeply. Eames noticed she slept like a cat and wondered if she was even aware of it. Her knees were drawn up close to her chest and her hands were tucked beneath her chin protectively. She always slept quietly, hardly moving through the entire night, and it was always peaceful to watch her sleep.
Yusuf slept like he'd been tossed out of a moving vehicle. He sprawled all over the place, arms and legs flung in all directions and snoring like a bear. He was asleep in a recliner at the far end of the building, one arm hanging over the edge of the chair and his leg propped on the desk in front of him. His mouth was open, head tossed back, and he was snoring in long, deep draws. Eames considered waking him up but it wouldn't work for long; once he was back asleep he'd go right back to the same routine.
And then there was Arthur. Of all the members of his team, Arthur was the one who intrigued him the most. He could never really be sure what Arthur dreamt of but he knew he'd never see it on his face. The younger man slept without any kind of facial expression, almost like he was in a coma. Usually people have a relaxed, content expression on their face when they sleep but not Arthur. His expression always looked...well, it looked like Arthur.
Eames had always been curious about the Point Man, there was something about him that piqued his interest. He knew nearly everyone's history in the group, where they'd come from, what their background was, but never Arthur. It was almost like the younger man had gone in an purposely deleted every record that could be traced back to him, everything from dental records to speeding tickets. And it was damn frustrating.
That was part of the reason Eames liked to pick on Arthur more than anyone else in the group. He wanted to get a rise out of him, get him angry, make him smile, anything that would help him understand him better. When they'd first started working together, Arthur had made it very clear he didn't care for Eames to be in the group. He called him irresponsible and unprofessional and made his dislike for the Forger well known to everyone in the group at the time. That only pushed Eames further; he wanted to know how to push the kid's buttons, how far he could go, he wanted to find out more about Arthur and why he acted the way he did.
Arthur was asleep a few feet away from the others, stretched out on a dusty old couch they'd found at a garage sale. The three piece suit had been removed in favor of an undershirt and a pair of dark flannel sleep pants. Had it not been for the rigid posture even in the throws of sleep, Eames would have guessed this was what Arthur would look like if he wasn't working for Cobb. The younger man's arms were crossed over his chest, head fallen to one side and dark hair falling over his forehead. It was kind of nice to see him without it slicked back sometimes.
Eames walked closer, studying every aspect of Arthur's sleeping form. As the Forger, he was used to taking in details and mannerisms from the people around him. No one ever had the exact same expressions or behaviors, everyone had something unique about them. Everything about Arthur was unique, from the way he almost always slept with his arms crossed over his chest or how he was never caught bare foot unless he was getting out of the shower. Even the frown lines that appeared between his eyes when he was upset were distinctly his. The frown lines that were appearing now.
Arthur shifted ever so slightly and had Eames not been there, standing over him and watching, he never would have seen it. The Forger cocked an eyebrow and leaned a bit closer, watching for the subtle movements that indicated Arthur was dreaming. He found himself sitting on the edge of the couch before he realized it, watching carefully.
Arthur frowned deeply in his sleep, his hands clenching into fists across his chest. His breathing increased a bit and his eyes squeezed shut a bit tighter. Whatever he was dreaming, it wasn't good. Eames weighed his options, wondering whether or not he should attempt to wake the younger man up. He knew he'd had dreams in the past where he was wishing someone would wake him up and it never came. Reaching out carefully, he placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder and nudged him gently. "Arthur."
Eames had seen Arthur come back to reality in nearly every way possible. He'd seen him wake up with a jolt when they knocked him out of his chair, he'd seen him wake up slowly from the drugs, he'd woken up with a gasp when he was killed in a dream, and everything in between. He'd never seen Arthur come awake swinging though.
The younger man bolted upright, swinging wildly with a tightly closed fist and nearly catching Eames in the jaw. The Forger managed to avoid the first hit, catching Arthur's wrist and holding it tightly. "Arthur!" He hissed, trying to get through to the younger man without waking anyone else up. "Arthur!" Another fist swung at him and he couldn't avoid this one, the blow catching him in the side of the face. He winced, reaching out with his other hand and grabbing Arthur's other wrist, pinning both of his arms to his side. Arthur was still only semi-conscious, struggling violently against him and trying to break free. However, his sleep-slowed reflexes were no match for Eames' fully awake ones and he was unable to break loose. The Forger grabbed him then, pulling him into a tight embrace and keeping his arms pinned to his sides. "Arthur." He breathed into the younger man's ear, feeling him stop struggling slowly. "Its me, love. You're alright...you're dreaming..."
Arthur stopped struggling, leaning against Eames' shoulder and breathing hard. "Eames?" He asked, his voice breathless and unsure.
Eames could feel Arthur's heart pounding against his shoulder, the ryhthm fast and erratic like his breathing. He held on for a few more seconds, making sure the Point Man wasn't going to start swinging again, before he let got of Arthur's wrists and rubbed his back lightly. "That's right." He said softly, keeping his voice quiet and as non-threatening as he could. Coming out of a dream like that must have been hard on Arthur's nerves. He kept his hand on the younger man's back, feeling his breathing and heart rate begin to slow down a bit as reality sank in around them. "You've got a hell of a punch on you, love." He teased lightly as Arthur finally pulled away from the embrace and ran a hand over his face.
He dragged his hand through his hair, shaking his head slowly. In the dark, rumpled and sleep-mussed, Arthur looked the way any other 26-year-old would look after waking up from a nightmare. He was slightly disoriented, his eyes still glassed over with sleep, and he shook his head again, pushing his hair back away from his face. Shame too, Eames kind of liked the unkempt look.
"Sorry..." Arthur mutered after a few minutes, looking up at the Forger still sitting next to him. He caught the slight sweeling that was already beginning to form on Eames' cheek and made a slight face. "...for hitting you." He finished, almost as if he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for at the beginning.
Eames smiled, suppressing the wince that accompanied the motion, and shrugged. "Not your fault." He said lightly, hoping it would take some of the edge off the issue. Arthur is silent again, staring at the floor, and Eames shifts a tiny bit closer. "Wanna tell me what the dream was about?" He asks carefully, knowing the conversation could easily be shut down all together.
There was a heavy silence, a pregnant pause that filled the entire building. Finally, Arthur shook his head slowly, still staring off into nowhere like he was trying to remember. "I don't know." He said simply, shrugging one shoulder uselessly. And that was it, there was no point in pressing further.
Eames sighed softly and nodded. "Alright, well I was going out for a smoke. Care to join me?" He knew the invitation wouldn't go unanswered; after the Inception job, they all had their nightmares and it was easier to be in a group than by yourself. That's why they were all crammed into this warehouse almost every night because no one wanted to go home and face the dark alone.
"I thought you quit." Arthur said in response, frowning at the older man.
Eames chuckled softly. "I've quit lots of things, darling. None of them ever permanently." He stood slowly, offering his hand to Arthur and waiting.
The younger man hesitated for only a second before accepting his hand and allowing himself to be hauled off the couch. He followed Eames to the door, looking around the warehouse at the other sleeping members of their team almost enviously. Eames couldn't blame him, he'd been feeling the same way recently.
The night air was brisk but not cold enough to be uncomfortable. It was mid-November, the trees shedding their leaves like and overcoat and scattering them across the sidewalks and streets. The stars could just barely be seen over the sky line, the glow from the streetlights making them almost invisible. It was late, well into the early morning hours, but neither man looked at his watch. There didn't seem to be much point.
Eames sighed and stretched, resting his back against the brick wall and tilting his head toward the sky. He lit a cigarette, taking a long, slow drag of the acrid smoke and letting it fill his lungs. Arthur leaned against the wall next to him, staring out at the street silently. Whether he was simply enjoying the silence or lost in his own thoughts, Eames couldn't be sure. Either way, he hated the silence.
"You know, I used to have a re-occuring dream when I was younger about falling off the roof of a building or a cliff and then right before I hit the ground, this giant crack would open up and I would keep falling." He took a slow drag of the cigarette, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "I was never really sure what it meant, but I remember having the same dream over and over when I was growing up. It was bloody frustrating too; I always wanted to just hit the ground so I could wake up."
Arthur smiled softly next to him, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. Another companionable silence fell between them, nothing but the sounds of distant street cars filling the void.
"I never really remember my dreams." Arthur said finally, keeping his voice low. "The only time I remember them is when we're hooked to the machine. Otherwise, its just dark. Its always dark." He shook his head slowly and Eames could tell he was hiding something but decided not to press it. "Most of the time it stays that way, nothing but darkness. But every once in a while I'll get the feeling of being chased, like someone or something is running toward me and I can't get away fast enough. Then it grabs me and there's hands everywhere and I can't get free..." He shook his head again and leaned back a little bit further into the wall.
Eames nodded slowly, never saying anything but content to just offer his presence. That explained why Arthur had lashed out at him but it didn't explain the dreams. Then again, he couldn't explain his either so it was a bit of a moot point. With a shrug, he tossed one arm around the younger man's shoulder's amicably and jostled him a bit. "Well, its a good thing you have me around to wake you up, hmm?"
The Point Man allowed another tiny smile to cross his face. "You won't be saying that the next time I punch you."
Eames smirked. "Just not in the face, love. That's the money maker."
The two fell into silence again, standing outside quietly and watching until the first rays of dawn crept onto the horizon. Eames knew he couldn't make Arthur's nightmares go away, he would be a fool to think he could. But he could at least offer to chase away the demons when it came down to it.
Hope you all liked it! :D