A/N: Okay, so when the dream cut to the front lawn in the last chapter, I forgot to indicate the passage of time. Arthur is now ten years old instead of eightish when we first saw him.
Eames moved to the boy and made to put a comforting hand upon his shoulder, but as he suspected, Arthur could not feel, hear or see him. Eames assumed this was an effect of natural dreaming; one did not notice intruders. Apparently, Arthur's subconscious didn't recognize Eames' presence either. He had not been attacked and had not even seen another person besides Arthur, Matilda, and Daddy. Eames felt sick. He had a feeling that the dream was about to become a serious nightmare. The sky split open and drenched the young boy with his head hung but passed right through Eames. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
The dream cut to Arthur standing soaking wet in a grimy kitchen, eyes wild with hate as he stared at his father.
"Oh boo fucking hoo," mocked Daddy. "Arthur's widdle pwaymate is all gone. Man up for once damn it! She'd still be here if you didn't have to play with her dolls and dance around like a fairy princess! That's her job not yours."
"No. My job was to keep her safe and happy despite your constant drunken state, and feed her and go shopping with her. My job. It was my job, because you fucking quit when mom walked out! She'd still be here if you'd manned up for once!" Arthur screamed the last sentence directly in his father's face, his cheeks turning red with anger. His father looked shocked, and then a strange sense of calm flowed over his face. The hate left Arthur's eyes. It was quickly replaced with fear. The burly man reached down and unbuckled his belt, slowly removing it from the loops of his jeans.
"No, no daddy! I'm sorry!" whimpered Arthur. The man remained unmoved as he removed the last bit of the belt and folded it over in his hands once. The boy, now ten, turned and ran for his bedroom.
"Get back here!" his father bellowed ferociously. His voice echoed throughout the small house. He heard Arthur's door slam. The father began jogging and Eames ran with all his speed into him meaning to knock him over and give Arthur more time to hide, but Daddy passed through him just as the rain had. Eames followed the man back to the dim room from before, and passed through the closed door like a ghost. Eames had just enough time to see Arthur's closet door close quietly before his father bust in the room. "Where are you?" he demanded. Arthurs soft crying was audible through the closet door and the man stalked over, ripping the thin door from its hinges. He threw it down and it bashed into the wall, knocking over a makeshift bookcase and sending heavy literary works flying.
"You do not hide from me!" Daddy screamed, yanking Arthur out with quite the same amount of force he had the door and throwing him on the mattress on the floor. "And you DO NOT speak to me that way. Ever. Again," he reinforced the last two words with a blow from his belt, knocking the wind out of the small boy. Eames yelped as Arthur tried to hold in his cries; tried feebly to prove to his drunken father that he was, in fact, a man. Arthur turned over to protect his stomach and face, but the man continued to swat at his exposed backside. Eames watched helplessly as Arthur's resolve finally broke, and he cried out loud as his father's blows became harsher. Eames sank to his knees and lay next to the boy, wrapping him in his arms and covering his body with his own. He knew it would do nothing for the pain as the belt passed through him and struck the boy, but he hoped Arthur could feel his presence, holding him and crying with him.
"I'm here Darling," whispered Eames. "This is only a dream, a horrible memory. He can't really hurt you anymore. I'll never let him again."