Eventually the storm gives way to silence - For Muted

[artfulforger]

The talk with Arthur at Mallorie's graveside had been less than logical, at least on Eames' part. In fairness, he wasn't trying to be logical, or use reason. At the time he'd wanted nothing more than to find an answer, a quick and easy solution to fix things, and let him move on with his life.

Instead he'd found an uneasy peace, believing he had the answer and could work it all out on his own. That had lasted nearly three weeks before the dream.

Mallorie had looked smug, smart and sharp as she always had in life. The place was her home, that overdone California house that she had turned into a home. Music and light, the children playing and friends even if they had begun life with business and dreams.

Despite knowing it was a dream, Eames couldn't help himself. He wanted to go to her, hold her in his arms and then dance with her on the deck as they had one night with Dominick sitting nearby, sipping his scotch and watching them with a laugh and a fond smile.

It was not to be.

The moment he touched her, everything changed. They were falling. Hurtling towards the ground, hurtling towards death at fifty miles per hours towards concrete and certain death.

He came to with a jerk, crying out to the empty hotel room. Alone.

His hands shook as he picked up his phone, dialing a number he memorized each and every time he'd found Arthur had changed it, waiting for the point man to answer.

Comments

[artfulforger]

He shrugged because he hadn't thought about it in that way. "Maybe. This can't be all this is about," he said with a sigh.

[mutedpoint]

Arthur frowns. He had come into this expecting this to be difficult, but the seesawing makes it hard to judge whether there had been any real progress at all.

"Any guesses as to what else it could be about?"

[artfulforger]

Eames paused, looking up at the sky as he rolled his shoulders. "Do you know the absolute worse part of working with you," he asked, seemingly suddenly and out of the blue. "Do you have any idea?"

[mutedpoint]

"No." If it's in any way related to how coolly he seems to take everything, well... it isn't as if he can help it.

[artfulforger]

"Well, beside the suits," he said, still trying to ease his own tension like that with comedy. "You're right too bloody often."

[mutedpoint]

"Being wrong has a tendency to go badly in my position." Also, he like being right.

[artfulforger]

"All about the work, right?" Yet he wasn't sure he entirely bought it, not after him admitting to the garage, to having that place where he did believe in some sort of sacred space like home.

[mutedpoint]

He neither confirms nor denies that, giving a noncommittal hum. "It's not like it stops."

[artfulforger]

"Not unless you chose for it to," he pointed out. "Not that I see either of us ever making that choice."

[mutedpoint]

"It's better than some others." Dreaming. While there are similar aspects, it's a lot cleaner.

[artfulforger]

"I can't go back to artworks and simple documents. I'd go crazy in a month," he said with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

If I do not tag back after this, I've gone to bed, so good night.

[mutedpoint]

"I wouldn't call it simple. Inks, paper weights, there are a lot of little things that go towards successfully forging a document.

"It can't compare, nothing does."

Suspect good morning then. Got caught up in cleaning

[artfulforger]

"Compared to this," he said, arms spread wide as he turned in a circle. "As compared to this that lets you do it all? Yeah, I'm good at forges outside of dreams. Best there is. How I ended up where I am now in all circles but it isn't the same."

Even Arthur wouldn't deny that, hadn't denied it.

Well, evening. Now that I'm sitting and actually looking at this.

[mutedpoint]

"I know that, but it doesn't mean you should keep going at something when it obviously is part of a problem, not unless you have some way to keep one from interfering with the other."

[artfulforger]

"Then I find a way," he said plainly. "I have to, Arthur. How can I quit this when not having anything else but this is causing it? Can you see the catch twenty-two to that?"

[mutedpoint]

He's always had the suspicion that all dreamers are neurotic, it just manifests in different ways. (He doesn't keep a list, which speaks for itself, does it not?)

"You can't keep it up. Just dreaming that is."

[artfulforger]

In truth, with the way hearing it put that way hit Eames, he would have preferred if the point man had just hit him. Not that he couldn't keep doing it but that somewhere along the line he'd let himself have nothing but this. He had coworkers and friends through dreams and contacts but all Eames had in his life was the dreams. It had been like that long before the Cobbs' came into his life, but that had been the glimpse he'd never had before of a life that went beyond his work.

"Easier said than done," he sighed, shoulders dropping slightly though not much.

[mutedpoint]

He narrows his eyes at Eames, but doesn't say anything more.

He's not judging, people live as they will. But dreams are always larger than life, the key being larger than. Reality has limitations, which can leave one sorely disappointed, and yet - some things can be written over, or ignored and you have to face that.

[artfulforger]

"Don't give me that look," he said, waving a hand at Arthur. "Only you say more with a look than any form of words." Or his own guilt guiding him. One or the other.

"So you're telling me to get a life, are you," he asked, smirking though he was serious. The smile didn't quite light up his eyes.

[mutedpoint]

"It would be more amusing under other circumstances." Not quite the words he would have used, but Eames had pointed it out first.

[artfulforger]

"I'm not looking to be amused, Arthur. I'm trying to find a way to not end up swallowing a bullet or some shit," he admitted, sounding less angry than he did weary.

And night.

[mutedpoint]

"There's really nothing that would give you a definite answer as to what is reality, it's always been subjective." Totems work because you believe they do, as long as you're not in your own dream.

Night and morning

[artfulforger]

"Yeah well, if this wasn't life it wouldn't suck as much," he said, falsely cheerful. "Except that doesn't work either, does it?" Because it hadn't for Mal.

"I get it though. Dammit, my bleeding brain isn't supposed to turn to you to help me sort this shite out."

Afternoon!

[mutedpoint]

"Did it? I hadn't gotten that impression." Certainly not something so blatant as to make him seek him out. It had been an accidental meeting.

Re: Afternoon!

[artfulforger]

He made a face. "Whatever it was." HE couldn't let himself believe in things like fate or dreams taking life of their own to direct him somewhere.

"Suppose I owe you now."