Inception/Mysterious Skin - Every Me and Every You (18/30)
Title: Every Me and Every You (18/30)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,922
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Paris was incredible. That was one thing Neil was sure of.
He hadn't been entirely convinced he would find the appeal in it because he wasn't quite the romantic that the tourists were, but there was just something about the old architecture crammed amongst the hills that looked absolutely beautiful. It was nothing like New York and nothing like Hutchinson, but it seemed to have some of the good things from both. It didn't feel so much like a new city as it did a completely different world where the people moved more leisurely and the sky looked just a little bit bluer. Maybe Neil had just needed a change of scenery.
Wendy was gaping with the same amount of wonder as Neil, falling into step next to him and holding onto his hand. "You'd better take me to the Eiffel Tower, you ass," she said, grinning. Neil grinned back at her and assured her that he would and made a mental note to fit that into his schedule somehow. He wrapped his arm around her in a loose hug and kissed her hair.
"What say you that we go drop our things off at the hotel and explore a bit for the day?" Eames offered. "I've been here a million times. I know all the best places."
He didn't have to convince them. They hurried off to their hotel, an absolutely beautiful, expensive place, and dropped their things inside. Neil discovered that Eames's room was a connected suite to his and Wendy's, and he wondered how many of his nights he'd be spending with the man (or if Eames had gotten the rooms specifically for that reason).
The first thing they did was stop at a tiny café squeezed in between a flower shop and a clothing store and that was where Neil had probably the absolute best cup of coffee he'd ever tasted, as well as his very first scone. Eames watched him curiously as he and Wendy tried their items and then let their eyes bug out in amazement. Neil sort of wanted to melt like chocolate on a hot day at Eames's amused smile.
After their meal, they took off into the city. Wendy wanted to go into just about every shop. Neil was glad to see her so excited, so he of course let her, though he hung back a bit, sauntering along in step with Eames and sharing a cigarette.
"So, what do you think of Paris so far? It's not too artsy for you, is it?" Eames asked.
"It's beautiful," Neil said honestly. "I feel like I'm a completely different person here."
"Should I just call you Arthur when we're in Paris then?"
Neil looked at him, smiling, and said, "Maybe."
Eames smirked and leaned in close, practically growling into Neil's ear, dragging out the r's, "Arthur." Neil smacked him on the arm, and Eames just laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, is my voice too sexy for you, darling?"
"Not at all. You sound fucking stupid," Neil replied, and Eames grasped his chest in mock offense.
"Guys!" Wendy shouted, and when Neil looked up, she had her arms akimbo and this knowing expression on her face that made him feel embarrassed, like he'd gotten caught doing something unsavory. "You two lovebirds want to stop whispering in each other's ears for a minute? Look! It's the tower!"
Surely enough there it was, standing tall just like a skyscraper from New York but unlike any building Neil had ever seen. Neil took a few minutes to just stare at it in wonder. "Wow," he said softly.
"You should see it at night," Eames said and led the way towards it. There were quite a few people already there, so they ended up having to wait around for what felt like an eternity, but eventually they did get to go up into the tower. Neil had never really appreciated city skylines or anything about tourist attractions, but there was definitely something about this view that stirred him. He could see why people liked to get married in Paris, why it was called the city of love.
"Have you ever been here before with someone else?" Neil asked Eames softly.
"I've only been here alone," Eames said. "It sort of lacks a little splendor though when you're by yourself and surrounded by couples." Neil looked over at Wendy who appeared to be flirting with a man who had come by himself. She was still shaking a little from the excitement of it all.
"Can I ask you a question?" Eames asked.
Neil turned back to him, hesitating before he nodded.
"Are we dating?" Eames asked. "I mean… I know we've had sex, and I know we've shared some meals together, and I've met your mother, so… I just uh…"
Neil's mouth fell open because Eames was blushing. Eames was actually blushing, and it was the most beautiful thing Neil had ever seen. No one had ever approached a relationship with Neil quite so innocently, and for some reason that made him want to cry. Instead though he just reached out and glided the pad of his thumb across Eames's bottom lip, biting down on his own bottom lip, and he said, "I don't know… are we? I've never dated anyone before."
Eames's gaze softened. "I think we might be dating," he said, tilting his head so that his cheek was resting in Neil's palm. "I think I'd quite like that…"
"Really," Neil said, voice barely above a whisper. He had forgotten that anyone else was even there with them. "You'd quite like that, hm? Why's that, Mr. Eames?"
"If I'm being completely honest, I don't quite know," Eames said, reaching up and wrapping his hand around Neil's. "You're not quite my type, and you can be a right git sometimes, and you seem a little emotionally unavailable on occasion, but I can't get you out of my brain. You're just so brilliant and fascinating in every way."
"I'm damaged," Neil said before he could stop himself.
"We all are a little," Eames said, "but I still think I might be falling in love with you."
Neil apparently did have a heart because in that moment it absolutely stopped. "You're full of shit," Neil said, but he didn't sound angry so much as disbelieving. "You barely know me."
"I don't care," Eames said. "I might practice in deception, but I'm honest with my feelings… and I haven't felt quite like this in a long time, so… take it or leave it. I understand if you don't feel the same way, and I won't be angry with you. I just thought I'd let you know where I stand right now, yeah?"
Neil had never been so afraid in his entire life, but at the moment he couldn't get his feet to move even an inch. After what felt like an hour (though it had probably only been a minute at the most), he looked down at his feet and shook his head. "I don't know what to say…" he said quietly. "No one's ever told me that before… at least, no one has and looked at me like that…"
"It's fine if you don't know right now. Even if you refuse me, I won't abandon you. I won't let any romantic feelings get in the way of how much I like you platonically, so… it's fine. It's all fine, yeah? Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't said anything."
Neil looked out at the skyline, body tilted towards Eames rather than away from it, and he said the only thing he could think to say. "I don't," he said. "I don't love you." It hurt even to say. "I don't know how to love anyone… but I don't even know how to date anyone, so… maybe just… I don't know… work our way up?"
Eames gave a slightly pained smile. "I think we can do that… and any time you want out, you can just tell me… not that I'm hoping you'll back out or anything. I just wanted you to be sure that you don't have to feel obligated-"
Neil rolled his eyes and kissed Eames if only to shut him up.
"I get it," he said. "Relax."
Eames exhaled slowly and nodded, a weird, goofy grin on his face. On anyone else, the face would look stupid, but Eames managed to make it charming. Neil leaned his head against Eames's shoulder and couldn't help but feel oddly warm inside when the man wrapped his arm around him and just held him.
It took Eames two days to find people to join them for the job. The chemist, Sasha, was flying in from Russia, but their architect was actually right there in Paris. Her name was Mal, and as soon as Neil met her, he knew that if he hadn't been queer he would have been obsessed with her.
Mal was absolutely beautiful and her gaze seemed endless, as if the city of Paris had decided to become personified in her. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, but the shorter curls had already fallen out, leaving ringlets around her face. She spoke with an accent that Neil thought was much nicer than his own and made everything she said sound far more interesting, and she had long fingers and chilly palms. Neil was absolutely fascinated by her.
Apparently her father had invented the PASIV device. Next to him, no one knew it better than Mal, despite the fact that she was just a normal college student. She and Eames had apparently met right after he'd left the army. He'd been on the run for six days without rest and she'd found him collapsed in the street. She had taken him back to her apartment and nursed him back to health. She and her father disapproved with what the army was using the PASIV for and though she wasn't necessarily a fan of what Eames and Neil were doing with it either, she still felt it was a better use of the device than teaching soldiers not to care about killing people. Most of the time the secrets they stole were for the good of the world, after all.
"When my father invented the PASIV," Mal explained as they set up shop in an old, abandoned building, "he did so with the purpose of really exploring the human mind. He wanted to see how deep the subconscious could go and how it manifested inside of people. After all, we never remember everything from our dreams, but if we're hooked up to the PASIV we can. I think it'll do wonders for psychology and psychiatry in the future."
"So you've been studying this kind of stuff for a while?" Neil asked. "What's it mean if your subconscious turns on you? Hypothetically."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't know for sure… I haven't actually experienced that, though my father has taken in a test subject or two with a mild version of that. If I'm remembering correctly, they had suffered from a past trauma and it caused them to have a sort of disconnection from themselves. Their subconscious didn't recognize them because they wouldn't accept what had happened to them."
Neil swallowed and watched Eames unpacking across the room rather than look at her. "What kind of trauma?"
"One woman lost her daughter in a car accident. She blamed herself for the child's death. The other had nearly drowned as a child."
He nodded, still avoiding her gaze.
"What happened to you, then?" she asked. "We are, after all, talking about you, aren't we? I can tell by the way you won't look at me."
Neil turned his eyes back on her, expression guilty. "I didn't suffer any real trauma," he said. "Maybe there's just something wrong with my brain."
"Perhaps," Mal said, tilting her head slightly, "but I'd say it's more likely that something affected you more than you're willing to admit to. Maybe more than one thing."
"It hasn't attacked me as much since I've been practicing," Neil told her, pulling his legs up into the chair with him and wrapping his arms around them. "They can't always get to me through the walls… the projections, that is."
Mal nodded curiously. "Well," she said, "why don't you show me? It'd be easier for me to help if I knew for sure what I was dealing with."
"I never said I needed any help."
"No, not with words," Mal said, smiling warmly.
Neil was hesitant, but he nodded, following her over to where the PASIV device was sitting.
"Monsieur Eames," Mal called over. "Arthur and I are going under for a bit."
Eames's expression looked a little unsure but he waved it off and went back to whatever he was doing. Neil settled into a chair with a reclined back and let Mal slide the needle into his arm. "Don't worry, Arthur," she said softly. "Anything that might be down there is between you and me. I'll only tell Eames if you tell me it's all right, okay?"
Neil just stared back at her until the plunger was depressed on the PASIV, sending him off into darkness before he opened his eyes to a beautiful French city.
Mal was there next to him, smiling. "What do you think of my city?" she asked.
"It's amazing," Neil said, stunned. "I didn't know you could put in this much detail in a dream."
Mal shrugged one shoulder, playing coy. "Admittedly, I am showing off a little bit right now. This is my favorite city I've constructed, though I have adapted it to the maze I've already shown you that we'll be using for the job. It reminds me of home but has all of the things I always wanted there in reality. Oh."
Neil turned around when he realized she was looking at something, and he was terrified to see Brian standing there in the middle of the street, gaze empty and nose bloodied.
"A friend of yours?" Mal asked, even though Neil knew she knew that wasn't the case.
"Not exactly," Neil mumbled. "I'm… not sure why he's here. He's never shown up like this before. Um… just uh… just leave him alone."
"Surely he's here for a reason," Mal said. "He doesn't seem like an ordinary projection to me. There's too much detail."
"He's nobody, Mal, forget it," Neil said, a little more desperately.
Mal looked at Neil and then approached the projection of Brian. "Don't," Neil breathed, trying to give chase after her only to find himself stuck when someone grabbed his arm.
"Shh, angel."
Neil jerked his body away from the whisper in his ear, trying to free his wrist from the man's grasp. His projections had never come after him so quickly before, not even in the dream with Eames, and he wondered just what had gone so wrong right away… but what if Mal was right? What if these people who kept appearing like this weren't projections at all? What if they were something else manifesting directly out of the darkest part of his subconscious, fueled by an emotion he didn't want to admit to or take credit for? These hands that held onto him didn't seem to have faces or bodies, constructed only because of Brian's presence…
Neil felt guilty.
On the wall behind Neil, a little voice was crying and pounding on the brick. "Let me out! Let me out! Please!" a small voice screamed.
Mal looked back at Neil, expression concerned, and while she had her back turned, Brian whipped out an aluminum baseball bat and swung, cracking her neck with it and sending her to the ground. Neil screamed out her name, but now there were hands seeming to come from everywhere, grabbing him by his arms and legs and neck and face and chest and stomach and groin.
Brian marched up to Neil, sneering, and he said, "You liked it."
Neil couldn't punch him to shut him up, and he couldn't wake himself up. All he could do was stare at the boy in shame, mouth hanging open with no words to say.
"Slut knows what's coming next," a voice behind him said.
It started to rain. The water came down in lazy, straight sheets, just like out of a showerhead, and as it pooled on Mal's crumbling street, blood mixed into the water. Buildings started to topple, all of its beauty immediately tarnished as it fell to ruin. Neil was pushed to the ground, half-drowning in a puddle. Mal and all of her perfection in the building of cities had made the place open enough to make it last should the dreamer be killed, and Neil just wished in that moment that she'd been more terrible at her job.
He squeezed his eyes shut as chunks of concrete, brick, and steel tumbled around him like hail, and he screamed.
He awoke to find someone shaking him, and he was still shouting, couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. "Arthur, please, Arthur-"
Neil shoved himself away from the arms holding him, stumbling backwards into a corner, and he finally managed to open his eyes and see Eames and Mal both crouched where he had fallen out of the chair and vomited. His arm was bleeding where he'd ripped the needle out of the skin.
"I have to build the mazes," he stammered, breathless, and then he collapsed.
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Inception/Mysterious Skin fusion
Word count: 2,922
Pairing: Neil/Eames
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: language, allusions to rape,child molestation, and prostitution
Summary: Neil McCormick is fraying at the seams. Then he meets Eames, professional dreamer.
Paris was incredible. That was one thing Neil was sure of.
He hadn't been entirely convinced he would find the appeal in it because he wasn't quite the romantic that the tourists were, but there was just something about the old architecture crammed amongst the hills that looked absolutely beautiful. It was nothing like New York and nothing like Hutchinson, but it seemed to have some of the good things from both. It didn't feel so much like a new city as it did a completely different world where the people moved more leisurely and the sky looked just a little bit bluer. Maybe Neil had just needed a change of scenery.
Wendy was gaping with the same amount of wonder as Neil, falling into step next to him and holding onto his hand. "You'd better take me to the Eiffel Tower, you ass," she said, grinning. Neil grinned back at her and assured her that he would and made a mental note to fit that into his schedule somehow. He wrapped his arm around her in a loose hug and kissed her hair.
"What say you that we go drop our things off at the hotel and explore a bit for the day?" Eames offered. "I've been here a million times. I know all the best places."
He didn't have to convince them. They hurried off to their hotel, an absolutely beautiful, expensive place, and dropped their things inside. Neil discovered that Eames's room was a connected suite to his and Wendy's, and he wondered how many of his nights he'd be spending with the man (or if Eames had gotten the rooms specifically for that reason).
The first thing they did was stop at a tiny café squeezed in between a flower shop and a clothing store and that was where Neil had probably the absolute best cup of coffee he'd ever tasted, as well as his very first scone. Eames watched him curiously as he and Wendy tried their items and then let their eyes bug out in amazement. Neil sort of wanted to melt like chocolate on a hot day at Eames's amused smile.
After their meal, they took off into the city. Wendy wanted to go into just about every shop. Neil was glad to see her so excited, so he of course let her, though he hung back a bit, sauntering along in step with Eames and sharing a cigarette.
"So, what do you think of Paris so far? It's not too artsy for you, is it?" Eames asked.
"It's beautiful," Neil said honestly. "I feel like I'm a completely different person here."
"Should I just call you Arthur when we're in Paris then?"
Neil looked at him, smiling, and said, "Maybe."
Eames smirked and leaned in close, practically growling into Neil's ear, dragging out the r's, "Arthur." Neil smacked him on the arm, and Eames just laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, is my voice too sexy for you, darling?"
"Not at all. You sound fucking stupid," Neil replied, and Eames grasped his chest in mock offense.
"Guys!" Wendy shouted, and when Neil looked up, she had her arms akimbo and this knowing expression on her face that made him feel embarrassed, like he'd gotten caught doing something unsavory. "You two lovebirds want to stop whispering in each other's ears for a minute? Look! It's the tower!"
Surely enough there it was, standing tall just like a skyscraper from New York but unlike any building Neil had ever seen. Neil took a few minutes to just stare at it in wonder. "Wow," he said softly.
"You should see it at night," Eames said and led the way towards it. There were quite a few people already there, so they ended up having to wait around for what felt like an eternity, but eventually they did get to go up into the tower. Neil had never really appreciated city skylines or anything about tourist attractions, but there was definitely something about this view that stirred him. He could see why people liked to get married in Paris, why it was called the city of love.
"Have you ever been here before with someone else?" Neil asked Eames softly.
"I've only been here alone," Eames said. "It sort of lacks a little splendor though when you're by yourself and surrounded by couples." Neil looked over at Wendy who appeared to be flirting with a man who had come by himself. She was still shaking a little from the excitement of it all.
"Can I ask you a question?" Eames asked.
Neil turned back to him, hesitating before he nodded.
"Are we dating?" Eames asked. "I mean… I know we've had sex, and I know we've shared some meals together, and I've met your mother, so… I just uh…"
Neil's mouth fell open because Eames was blushing. Eames was actually blushing, and it was the most beautiful thing Neil had ever seen. No one had ever approached a relationship with Neil quite so innocently, and for some reason that made him want to cry. Instead though he just reached out and glided the pad of his thumb across Eames's bottom lip, biting down on his own bottom lip, and he said, "I don't know… are we? I've never dated anyone before."
Eames's gaze softened. "I think we might be dating," he said, tilting his head so that his cheek was resting in Neil's palm. "I think I'd quite like that…"
"Really," Neil said, voice barely above a whisper. He had forgotten that anyone else was even there with them. "You'd quite like that, hm? Why's that, Mr. Eames?"
"If I'm being completely honest, I don't quite know," Eames said, reaching up and wrapping his hand around Neil's. "You're not quite my type, and you can be a right git sometimes, and you seem a little emotionally unavailable on occasion, but I can't get you out of my brain. You're just so brilliant and fascinating in every way."
"I'm damaged," Neil said before he could stop himself.
"We all are a little," Eames said, "but I still think I might be falling in love with you."
Neil apparently did have a heart because in that moment it absolutely stopped. "You're full of shit," Neil said, but he didn't sound angry so much as disbelieving. "You barely know me."
"I don't care," Eames said. "I might practice in deception, but I'm honest with my feelings… and I haven't felt quite like this in a long time, so… take it or leave it. I understand if you don't feel the same way, and I won't be angry with you. I just thought I'd let you know where I stand right now, yeah?"
Neil had never been so afraid in his entire life, but at the moment he couldn't get his feet to move even an inch. After what felt like an hour (though it had probably only been a minute at the most), he looked down at his feet and shook his head. "I don't know what to say…" he said quietly. "No one's ever told me that before… at least, no one has and looked at me like that…"
"It's fine if you don't know right now. Even if you refuse me, I won't abandon you. I won't let any romantic feelings get in the way of how much I like you platonically, so… it's fine. It's all fine, yeah? Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't said anything."
Neil looked out at the skyline, body tilted towards Eames rather than away from it, and he said the only thing he could think to say. "I don't," he said. "I don't love you." It hurt even to say. "I don't know how to love anyone… but I don't even know how to date anyone, so… maybe just… I don't know… work our way up?"
Eames gave a slightly pained smile. "I think we can do that… and any time you want out, you can just tell me… not that I'm hoping you'll back out or anything. I just wanted you to be sure that you don't have to feel obligated-"
Neil rolled his eyes and kissed Eames if only to shut him up.
"I get it," he said. "Relax."
Eames exhaled slowly and nodded, a weird, goofy grin on his face. On anyone else, the face would look stupid, but Eames managed to make it charming. Neil leaned his head against Eames's shoulder and couldn't help but feel oddly warm inside when the man wrapped his arm around him and just held him.
It took Eames two days to find people to join them for the job. The chemist, Sasha, was flying in from Russia, but their architect was actually right there in Paris. Her name was Mal, and as soon as Neil met her, he knew that if he hadn't been queer he would have been obsessed with her.
Mal was absolutely beautiful and her gaze seemed endless, as if the city of Paris had decided to become personified in her. Her brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, but the shorter curls had already fallen out, leaving ringlets around her face. She spoke with an accent that Neil thought was much nicer than his own and made everything she said sound far more interesting, and she had long fingers and chilly palms. Neil was absolutely fascinated by her.
Apparently her father had invented the PASIV device. Next to him, no one knew it better than Mal, despite the fact that she was just a normal college student. She and Eames had apparently met right after he'd left the army. He'd been on the run for six days without rest and she'd found him collapsed in the street. She had taken him back to her apartment and nursed him back to health. She and her father disapproved with what the army was using the PASIV for and though she wasn't necessarily a fan of what Eames and Neil were doing with it either, she still felt it was a better use of the device than teaching soldiers not to care about killing people. Most of the time the secrets they stole were for the good of the world, after all.
"When my father invented the PASIV," Mal explained as they set up shop in an old, abandoned building, "he did so with the purpose of really exploring the human mind. He wanted to see how deep the subconscious could go and how it manifested inside of people. After all, we never remember everything from our dreams, but if we're hooked up to the PASIV we can. I think it'll do wonders for psychology and psychiatry in the future."
"So you've been studying this kind of stuff for a while?" Neil asked. "What's it mean if your subconscious turns on you? Hypothetically."
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, I don't know for sure… I haven't actually experienced that, though my father has taken in a test subject or two with a mild version of that. If I'm remembering correctly, they had suffered from a past trauma and it caused them to have a sort of disconnection from themselves. Their subconscious didn't recognize them because they wouldn't accept what had happened to them."
Neil swallowed and watched Eames unpacking across the room rather than look at her. "What kind of trauma?"
"One woman lost her daughter in a car accident. She blamed herself for the child's death. The other had nearly drowned as a child."
He nodded, still avoiding her gaze.
"What happened to you, then?" she asked. "We are, after all, talking about you, aren't we? I can tell by the way you won't look at me."
Neil turned his eyes back on her, expression guilty. "I didn't suffer any real trauma," he said. "Maybe there's just something wrong with my brain."
"Perhaps," Mal said, tilting her head slightly, "but I'd say it's more likely that something affected you more than you're willing to admit to. Maybe more than one thing."
"It hasn't attacked me as much since I've been practicing," Neil told her, pulling his legs up into the chair with him and wrapping his arms around them. "They can't always get to me through the walls… the projections, that is."
Mal nodded curiously. "Well," she said, "why don't you show me? It'd be easier for me to help if I knew for sure what I was dealing with."
"I never said I needed any help."
"No, not with words," Mal said, smiling warmly.
Neil was hesitant, but he nodded, following her over to where the PASIV device was sitting.
"Monsieur Eames," Mal called over. "Arthur and I are going under for a bit."
Eames's expression looked a little unsure but he waved it off and went back to whatever he was doing. Neil settled into a chair with a reclined back and let Mal slide the needle into his arm. "Don't worry, Arthur," she said softly. "Anything that might be down there is between you and me. I'll only tell Eames if you tell me it's all right, okay?"
Neil just stared back at her until the plunger was depressed on the PASIV, sending him off into darkness before he opened his eyes to a beautiful French city.
Mal was there next to him, smiling. "What do you think of my city?" she asked.
"It's amazing," Neil said, stunned. "I didn't know you could put in this much detail in a dream."
Mal shrugged one shoulder, playing coy. "Admittedly, I am showing off a little bit right now. This is my favorite city I've constructed, though I have adapted it to the maze I've already shown you that we'll be using for the job. It reminds me of home but has all of the things I always wanted there in reality. Oh."
Neil turned around when he realized she was looking at something, and he was terrified to see Brian standing there in the middle of the street, gaze empty and nose bloodied.
"A friend of yours?" Mal asked, even though Neil knew she knew that wasn't the case.
"Not exactly," Neil mumbled. "I'm… not sure why he's here. He's never shown up like this before. Um… just uh… just leave him alone."
"Surely he's here for a reason," Mal said. "He doesn't seem like an ordinary projection to me. There's too much detail."
"He's nobody, Mal, forget it," Neil said, a little more desperately.
Mal looked at Neil and then approached the projection of Brian. "Don't," Neil breathed, trying to give chase after her only to find himself stuck when someone grabbed his arm.
"Shh, angel."
Neil jerked his body away from the whisper in his ear, trying to free his wrist from the man's grasp. His projections had never come after him so quickly before, not even in the dream with Eames, and he wondered just what had gone so wrong right away… but what if Mal was right? What if these people who kept appearing like this weren't projections at all? What if they were something else manifesting directly out of the darkest part of his subconscious, fueled by an emotion he didn't want to admit to or take credit for? These hands that held onto him didn't seem to have faces or bodies, constructed only because of Brian's presence…
Neil felt guilty.
On the wall behind Neil, a little voice was crying and pounding on the brick. "Let me out! Let me out! Please!" a small voice screamed.
Mal looked back at Neil, expression concerned, and while she had her back turned, Brian whipped out an aluminum baseball bat and swung, cracking her neck with it and sending her to the ground. Neil screamed out her name, but now there were hands seeming to come from everywhere, grabbing him by his arms and legs and neck and face and chest and stomach and groin.
Brian marched up to Neil, sneering, and he said, "You liked it."
Neil couldn't punch him to shut him up, and he couldn't wake himself up. All he could do was stare at the boy in shame, mouth hanging open with no words to say.
"Slut knows what's coming next," a voice behind him said.
It started to rain. The water came down in lazy, straight sheets, just like out of a showerhead, and as it pooled on Mal's crumbling street, blood mixed into the water. Buildings started to topple, all of its beauty immediately tarnished as it fell to ruin. Neil was pushed to the ground, half-drowning in a puddle. Mal and all of her perfection in the building of cities had made the place open enough to make it last should the dreamer be killed, and Neil just wished in that moment that she'd been more terrible at her job.
He squeezed his eyes shut as chunks of concrete, brick, and steel tumbled around him like hail, and he screamed.
He awoke to find someone shaking him, and he was still shouting, couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. "Arthur, please, Arthur-"
Neil shoved himself away from the arms holding him, stumbling backwards into a corner, and he finally managed to open his eyes and see Eames and Mal both crouched where he had fallen out of the chair and vomited. His arm was bleeding where he'd ripped the needle out of the skin.
"I have to build the mazes," he stammered, breathless, and then he collapsed.