halftime
The skies are blue for Mal's funeral.
She would have wanted it that way. Mal loved blue and hated mourning. She was always practical, firm. When faced with misfortune she took it in her hands and broke it into pieces, looking at each one until she found the solution—and she stuck to it.
Stuck to it till she jumped off a building ledge.
Arthur looks around and feels out of place in his black jacket, black shirt, black slacks and shoes. The skies are blue for Mal's funeral and so is her family, in subtle little ways. Cobb's tie, striped navy. Phillipa's dress, a deep midnight blue. James and his little car, a bright model Rambler Arthur bought him in Tokyo, that he runs over the seats aimlessly. Phillipa gives him a dirty look every so often and Arthur kicks at her feet, forcing her attention forward and only making her angrier. He knows what she's thinking. She doesn't get what's going on either so why should she have to pay attention when James doesn't?
Arthur doesn't get it either, really.
Maybe we should all get out of here.
Someone taps him on the shoulder (Mal's cousin, he thinks he remembers, and the curly dark hair makes him think he's right) and he moves to do the same to Cobb but one look tells him not to bother. Cobb can't be trusted to hold James up right now—pallbearer is too much to ask. They need someone else though. Someone—
"Arthur."
And it's gruff and British and he thinks Someone not him.
But it isn't. The man looking down at him is four inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Arthur's first instinct, perfectly groomed mustache twitching as he continues, "You are Arthur, yes? Are you still—"
"—Yes. Don't worry about it."
And even as he stands and walks past to the coffin, he knows the words are short and rough and cut with pride. Like he's trained in the Pavlovian style to respond to a British accent. He wishes he could apologize.
The skies are blue though when they open the doors and the smooth wooden coffin is heavy on his shoulder, and he thinks of Eames' eyes, grey and overcast as the world should be, to keep him going.
-—-
The skies are blue for Mal's funeral.
Arthur's shirt is black and he thinks of grey.
She would hate him for this, she would, but he doesn't know what else to do.
-—-