Title: La Valise Argentée

Author: A Crazy Elephant

Summary: Or 'Five Times Someone Saw the Silver Case and the One Time it Didn't Matter'; Companion to "Le Famille"

Category: Family/Friendship

Word Count: 2,096

Disclaimer: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan, not me. Sad.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay; I'd hoped to get this out sooner, but I picked up the flu and have been confined to my couch with stacks of Kleenex, no motivation and all six seasons of '3rd Rock From The Sun' (John Lithgow and French Stewart being themselves with a little long-haired Joseph Gordon-Levitt being a pervy teenager always make me feel better – don't judge).

Again, this piece is heavily based off of the family for the forger found in 'Le Famille'. Before anyone asks, yes, the little ghost story Nat tells is based on Neil Gaiman's Coraline; I like to think that the forger would be the sort of dad to fire off an impressively creative lie rather than let his little girl know she just happened to pick out the most deformed and deranged kitten from the pet shop. And I know, she's a bit more eloquent than the average three year old, but in my defense, she's mostly just parroting back what she's been told. Again, I'm using a different tense than my usual style; let me know if I slip back into the past participle. Reviews are loved; I love to hear what you think. = )

3 – Derry City, County Londonderry, Northern Ireland, United Kingdom

"Your cat is weird,"

It's raining and Nattie is bored.

"Tink is not weird; he's battle scarred."

Mummy's all ready decreed that they aren't permitted to play outside in this weather and now Nat has to stay upstairs with her boring cousins while the grown-ups are downstairs talking business and politics which is not fair at all because the grown-ups are all infinitely more interesting than sitting around with a pair dumb boys. Grandda always, always listens to her stories and will color for hours with her if Nattie asks him to. Uncle Jackie and Gran are always fighting and while Nattie's not really sure why, it's still very exciting to see Gran turn the same shade of purple as her rain slicker. Mummy always sings her silly songs about rovers and whiskey (whatever those are) and makes her funny little sandwiches with chocolate and bananas and Daddy knows all the best magic tricks and tells her all sorts of exciting stories that make Gran roll her eyes, but even though he knows silly songs too, Declan's kind of mean and Danny is just boring and it's taken her ages to get them to agree on any sort of game.

"He's weird." Declan repeats firmly. The cat in question, a mangy sort of tabby with three legs, one eye, half an ear, and a stump of a tail, hangs uncomfortably in Nattie's arms and looks unhappy as they retreat up from the back stairs where they discovered the unfortunate creature nesting in a laundry basket. "Just look at him!"

"Daddy says he's a fighter." Nattie explains casually, hefting the cat a bit higher so his good leg doesn't drag the ground. Tink has been particularly patient since they've been at Gran and Grandda's. They couldn't find anyone to take care of him back home and had to bring him along and Mummy says he's probably just relieved he doesn't have to stay in the little plastic cage anymore. "He fights the Beldam,"

"The what?" Danny asks as Declan pushes the door to the guest room that she and her parents staying in. It's smaller than her room at home, neater and darker with black and white photos of people Nattie doesn't know but Gran insists are family and little ceramic farm animals she is not allowed to touch, not all white and patterned with Peter Rabbits, Tom Kittens and Jemima Puddle-Ducks like her room at home. The toy chest which is full of old tin and wooden toys that Nattie secretly covets for their simplicity and Mummy says belonged to her and Uncle Jackie when they were children, stands open under the window from earlier when they were hunting for entertainment.

"The Beldam – she lives in the walls at our house and steals children." Nattie continues, hauling the unfortunate Tink to the toy chest. The cat does not look thrilled, but he doesn't look worried either. Rather, he looks like he's been dropped right on his head a few times and is a bit dazed, sagging in Nattie's arms as she searches through the box of tin trucks and wooden blocks and extracts a ruffley and colorful sort of collar that Nattie is pretty sure was supposed to be a hair band but has been so stretched it's just the right size for their game.

"What sort of children?" Danny asks, interested. He's rather dull as far as cousins go, but at the very least Danny can recognize an exciting story when he hears one.

"Any sort – Daddy says it's because she's lonely, but mostly just hungry." Nattie explains. She's pleased to be the only expert on this ghost story and she can tell Danny's a bit jealous that he isn't more knowledgeable on the subject, particularly one that involves such excitingly gruesome antagonists. "He says there are loads of them, all old and ugly and they live in old houses all over the world, just waitin' to steal away children for dinner."

"What does that have to do with your ugly cat?" Declan asks, skeptically. He thinks he knows so much, being five and in primary school and hasn't been anything but nasty since Nattie's been to visit.

"Daddy says Beldams hate cats – cats know all the Beldam's tricks to lure children away so they're always fightin'." Nattie explains, shoving Tink into Danny's hands so that she can stretch the ruffle over the cat's head. "Tink is an excellent fighter – there! Now he looks like a proper lion!" She exclaims, clapping once. Tink however doesn't approve of this new development and gives a strangled sort of howl as the ruffle settles over the little bell he wears. Danny jumps in surprise when the formerly patient and unresponsive feline stiffens, sinks his claws into his hands and rolls awkwardly in efforts to escape. Nattie's bit shocked her own self – Tink hasn't been so enthusiastic about anything since they arrived and she was sure he'd be all droopy and cooperative like at home when he's tired and lets her stick him in the miniature pram Grandmother Eames sent her at Christmas.

"Hey!" Danny cries out at the sharp little pricks of Tink's claws and drops the crooked tabby, who takes off like a shot out the open door, bouncing once off the door jam before continuing on into the hall.

"Oh, Danny – see what you've done!" Nattie scolds as they trot out after Tink, Danny looking hurt and assuredly put out over the scratches on his hands and Declan snorting and shaking his head as though he could have told them 'Circus' was a stupid game to play in the first place. "Come on!" She encourages, leading them down the stairs. From the bottom steps, they watch as the stump of Tink's tail vanishes through the crack of the coat closet door.

"Go get him," Declan hisses with a glance around the banister and into the parlor where the grown-ups are arguing about something Nattie doesn't understand. Gran's cross and in quite a mood and both Declan and Danny look reluctant to interrupt. Nattie doesn't blame them – Mummy and Daddy and even Uncle Jackie would only just scold them for their rudeness and send them on their way, but Gran's not above smacking when she's this angry.

"Chicken." She retorts, for good measure, even though she's just as loath to creep out and risk discovery as the boys are. The space between the edge of the stairs and the open closet door looks longer and longer, especially when she risks her own look into the parlor and she's not in the mood for interrupting and getting in trouble this afternoon.

"Circus was your idea." Declan reminds her with a sneer.

"Fine." Nattie snorts and casts one final glance into the parlor, just to make sure Gran's not looking before crawling ever so stealthily over the furry green hall rug to the closet door.

Once inside, she congratulates herself on her sneakiness as she sits up in the tiny little room, surrounded by shoes and umbrellas and Daddy's work duffle, her head just below the hems of the hanging coats. The little sliver of light from the crack in the door on the coats casts a host of exciting shadows on the close walls and offers just enough light to spot the sulking Tink, who's all ready nested into Daddy's duffle and is giving off a host of little unhappy cat sounds at her presence.

"Come on, silly," She encourages and Tink sinks himself deeper into the open top of the duffle with another menacing little growl. "Let's go." Nattie holds out her hand and Tink snarls again, his good eye watching her movements ever so carefully and she inches closer, whispering soothing words. When Tink is within arms reach, she gets impatient and dives the last few centimeters, hands out to seize the cat before he can begin his getaway.

It isn't a graceful catch, but at the very least, it is a successful one.

Her knee catches on one of Grandda's big old Wellies as she gets in close and she pitches forward, right onto Daddy's duffle, tackling the unfortunate Tink who gives another hiss. Nattie makes a little 'umph' sound herself when she hits a hard something in the duffle and the cat yowls pitifully as she scrambles to keep a hold on him.

"Tink!" The unhappy tabby is still grumbling as she sits up, using the solid contents of the duffle as leverage. "Stop that!" She scolds, scratching at the remaining little tuft of ear he has left to calm him when something silver and shiny from inside the duffle catches her eye.

It glints off the warm glow from the crack between the door and the frame, not quite like a mirror or the sparkly stone in Mummy's favorite ring, but a bit duller, almost frosted like the old red and gold tin shapes that Grandmother Eames puts on her Christmas tree. Except unlike Grandmother's ornaments, this bit of shiny is silver, rectangular and much, much bigger, like the leather case Grandda keeps the old pictures of Uncles Johnny, Billy and Tommy who are In Heaven and his War letters in and calls an attack-shay. It's also got quite a few scratches and a couple perfectly round little dents, like the shape the rock from Declan's slingshot made when it hit Uncle Jack's car yesterday and it's most definitely the hard something she stumbled into.

There are fuzzy towels that Tink had snuggled into around most of the case, like the ones from the nice hotels they stay in on holidays, keeping it snug in the duffle and half hidden from anyone peeking in the open top and Nattie can tell she ought not to touch it. Of course, that doesn't stop her from pushing the fluffy white terry cloth out of the way, Tink still sulking in the crook of her left arm, so that she can trace the deep scratches, across the ridges in the metal to each of the little dents.

"Hey there, Nat." It's Daddy. Nattie hadn't even noticed him crack the closet door or crouch down next to her. "What are we up to, darling?"

"Catchin' Tink," She explains absently, still tracing one of the deeper scratches in the case. Daddy doesn't sound angry, rather more relieved, like he's got a fabulously good excuse for not listening to Gran, but there's something like worry in his face as he watches her carefully run her fingers over the grooves in the metal. "What is it Daddy?"

"Poor Tink, rough life he's got." Daddy smiles and scratches what's left of Tink's ear, before tugging the towel back over the case and pulling both her and Tink into his arms. "It's a treasure chest, petal." He explains, hefting her up so she can slip one arm around his neck for balance and still keep a hold of her cat.

"Really?" Nat can believe it. The big heavy wooden trunks like in her picture books can't be very practical to haul around, but a little silver case is sneaky small and excellently tough. "But you en't a pirate!" She giggles and Daddy chuckles, carrying her into the kitchen, where Grandda's leafing through the afternoon paper and Mummy's making those funny little sandwiches. Whatever argument they were having in the parlor has clearly ended with Uncle Jackie leaving for a bit and Gran storming upstairs to bemoan her good-for-nothing son and both Mummy and Grandda look just as relieved as Daddy that the argument's over. Declan and Danny have fled their hiding spot on the stairs and have also sought refuge in the kitchen and sit, fidgeting a bit and waiting for their sandwiches.

"Who said I needed to be pirate to have a treasure chest?" Daddy asks. The worry that was in his face when she was touching the case has vanished like it was never even there as he sets her in the little booster seat next to Danny's and takes Tink from her arms.

"Well, all the best pirates have them." Nattie explains as Daddy settles into the empty chair next to Grandda, scratching the top of Tink's mangy little head.

"I suppose they do." He agrees. "Say," Daddy asks, "have I ever told you about Africa?" And just like that, the duffle and the towels and the silver attack-shay are forgotten among banana and chocolate sandwiches and tales of busy markets and camels and funny little pharmacists with cats and glasses.