Brick/Inception: Après Moi, le Deluge

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: Après Moi, le Deluge (15/24)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Fandom: Brick/Inception fusion
Word count: 4,166
Pairing: later Brendan(Arthur)xEames, mentions of BrendanxEmily and BrendanxLaura
Rating: R
Warnings: currently violence, language, mentions of character death
Summary: Brendan should have known better than to tug on loose threads. He should have known that one loose thread was all it took to make everything unravel, but he’d been tired and just wanted things to be done. He should have known well enough that things were never done.

Special thanks to wadebramwilson for betaing! <3



FIFTEEN

When Brendan came to, it was to find himself curled up in a terribly small compartment. It was too dark to see, but there was the familiar sound of street rushing beneath him that reminded him he was in the trunk of the car. They hit a pot hole, causing him to bounce a little, banging his already aching head against the floor of the trunk, and he hissed, wishing he knew where they were going. His ears were still ringing from the frying pan he'd taken to the skull by another member of John's gang that he hadn't been aware of, but he was still aware enough to know he wasn't alone. The back of his tied hands was touching the warm skin of what he presumed was Laura. She was quiet, probably unconscious though he couldn't be sure. He certainly hoped they'd at least been a little more graceful at knocking her out than with the kitchen décor.

Brendan tested his bonds but found his movements were sluggish to nonexistent. He couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure he'd been drugged so that he couldn't untie himself, kick out the taillights and make an attempt to escape.

Shit.

He did manage to maneuver the gag out from his mouth at least, but the rest of his binds weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

"L…Lau…" he croaked. "…Lau…ra…"

It took a minute or two, but she seemed to stir. It took a couple more minutes before she could talk however, clumsily maneuvering the gag from her mouth with a few weak squirms. She'd been drugged too. So much for having her untie him.

"Are you okay…?" she asked.

Brendan had no idea, so he didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "What happened?"

"Caleb conked you with a frying pan."

"Yeah, ah… I remember that part."

"Drugged you. Drugged me. Not sure with what. Probably some kind of sedative. Now they're probably taking us back to Johnny's headquarters. I don't know what they intend to do, but I doubt it'll be good." Her speech was sluggish and slurred in a way that she couldn't possibly fake. He doubted she'd be of any use to him anytime soon.

"Well, we know one thing," Brendan coughed, tasting blood in his mouth again. "They're not going to kill us, not yet anyway. Wells probably thinks I have some sort of agenda, probably thinks you're in on it. He's going to try and dig the truth out of us."

"Well, that's good news."

"It's nice to see your sarcasm is still intact, angel."

"I'd say it's nice to see your smart ass mouth was still intact, but it's sort of the reason you took a pan to the face."

Brendan snorted, unable to help but give her credit. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. I didn't know there was another guy."

"Which is why you should've stayed put."

"They were right there, Laura. They would've found me. I wasn't just going to stand in there and listen to him strangle you."

Laura was quiet for a moment. Then, she said, "…but why? I… I thought you hated me."

Brendan sighed, closing his eyes against the pain in his skull, even though it was just as dark. "I've still got my problems with you… You did some nasty things, some things you should pay for, but… but if I were to let you die, would that make me any better than you? It wouldn't have done any good anyway… You'd just be another body on my name."

"I would think it wouldn't matter to you. I'm… I'm the reason Emily is…"

"Yeah, well… it's just as much my fault, isn't it?"

Laura went silent.

After a couple of minutes, she said, "Do you really believe that?"

"You said it yourself," Brendan said distantly. "It could only have been me, and it's what you used to get her killed, isn't it? If she hadn't been like that, Tug wouldn't have had a reason to get so hot and hit her. You wouldn't have been able to come up with that little plan of yours. You probably would have had someone else take the hit. It could have changed everything."

"Isn't it a little late to dwell on 'what if's?"

Brendan didn't answer.

"This… this has been eating you up inside," she said. "You… feel guilt for it. You don't even blame me anymore, do you? You only blame yourself."

"I was supposed to protect her. I didn't. I didn't keep her safe."

Laura might have said more, but the car came to a slow halt. Both of them fell silent, the small space growing tense with what might be coming. Brendan had a feeling Laura was more well-versed on what could take place, but his own imagination was running wild with gruesome possibilities.

He knew one thing for sure. If he didn't get away from them, they were going to kill him. Either they would get the information they wanted or they'd find he didn't have it, but he wasn't going to walk out of there alive unless he escaped… and even if he did manage an escape, that certainly didn't mean he was safe. He needed help-Laura was unreliable at best but she was his only option. It was possible he might be able to convince a couple of Johnny's goons to give him a hand but they weren't very trustworthy partners either. Contacting Brain would be his best shot, but the chances of getting in touch with him were slim at best. Brendan had to think, plan, do something. Anything at this point would be good.

The trunk opened, and he flinched against the light.

He was grabbed and hauled out of the trunk and practically tossed to the group of thugs waiting underneath the street light. His legs wouldn't even hold him up with the drug in his system even if his ankles hadn't been tied together. He hissed out a curse just before they shoved the gag back into his mouth and dragged him to the warehouse waiting nearby. He tried his best to take in his surroundings, even though his head was pounding and vision swimming. The river wasn't far. He could sort of see it in the distance, could see lights from the main part of the city. He thought he caught a glimpse of something on the corner of the building looking down at him, but that might have all been in his head. The warehouse door was wide and loud. There'd be no getting out of it without someone noticing. An air vent opening or two might have been an option, but he'd have to get into them first and find his way out before they turned the heat up on him.

As he was lugged inside, he was disappointed to see that there weren't any getaway vehicles in sight. There were also far more people around than he would have liked, PASIV devices set up on tables. Temporary plaster walls had been thrown up to make rooms. The place was lit by harsh fluorescents hanging from the ceiling and smelled of sweat and chemicals. He was taken to one of the rooms in the back, tossed onto one of the two old beds inside. Other than the beds, a few stacked chairs, and a table, there wasn't anything else to look at. He was untied which was a relief on his rope-burned wrists, but it only lasted long enough for them to handcuff him to the bedframe. He had a feeling that when the sedative wore off, his shoulders would be aching.

If he could get a nail or something, he would probably be able pick the lock on the cuffs, but for the moment he was stuck.

Brendan was beginning to think there was no escaping this time. He really had bitten off more than he could chew.

Laura was dragged in a couple of minutes later and shoved onto the bed on the opposite wall and chained similarly. She kept her head tilted upwards, glaring at Monroe who had brought her in. When he looked towards Brendan, he asked, "How's your leg?"

"Fuck you," Brendan sneered.

"Not as bad as the rest of you then, I'd imagine."

"You're pretty smug for a guy whose boss had to fix your mistake," Brendan said with a slight smirk. "How are your testicles by the way? I recall I gave them a pretty swift kick."

"Sass all you want," Monroe said. He seemed to be attempting to hide his anger behind a smile, but the redness in his face gave him away. "We're going to find out where you stashed the somnacin this time."

"Your buddy Charlie didn't think I had it before. What makes you think you'll find anything now?"

"You stole that PASIV for a reason."

"I really didn't," Brendan snorted, shaking his head. "I took it so you wouldn't have it. I didn't even know what it was. I thought it might serve my interests if you came breaking down my door with your noses in the air trying to sniff me out."

"Bullshit."

"He didn't take it," Laura piped up.

"Oh? And why should I believe you?"

"Because he wasn't at my apartment for some midnight rendezvous," Laura said with a roll of her eyes. "I don't know why all you men assume that a woman is pitching woo with every gink she speaks to, but he and I aren't lovers. He can't even stand me. Ask him yourself. He wasn't there to conspire with me. As far as I know, he was there to kill me. Brendan here was involved with a girl I sent to die. Emily Kostitch?" She paused to glance at Brendan and then looked back into Monroe's face. "Look it up. You'll see for yourself. Someone had to be pinned so I could get away with the brick. Small time game compared to what you boys do, I know, but a personal vendetta is a personal vendetta."

"He wants revenge on you for killing his girlfriend," Monroe said skeptically.

"High school's a very vengeful time, especially for social outcasts. Besides, I played him on top of it all, made him think I gave a damn about him, let him fall right into my trap. In the end, he escaped it, but I still sent him to the slaughterhouse… or did you forget how Johnny doesn't trust me because of my ability to manipulate both sides?"

"And why exactly would you be telling me this?"

"Because I didn't do anything, and I want out of these chains. I'm not about to go down for him. He was my pawn in the past, but I've got no use for him now. Take it to Johnny, tell him I'm not chiseling him and get me out of here."

"And him?"

Laura looked over at Brendan, met his gaze. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, but then, he never could. Still, he couldn't help but think he'd been conned.

"Do whatever you're going to do," she said, and her voice was so cold the room dropped two degrees. "I don't see why it's any of my business now."

"Bitch," Brendan hissed.

"It's just business," Laura said as Monroe hesitantly untied her, keeping his pistol trained on her. She sauntered across the room when she was free, sliding her hand through his hair before leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

No.

Wait…

"I'll come back," she whispered quickly, so soft that Brendan barely heard her.

He didn't know what that meant. Would she be back to save him… or would she be back to destroy him? It was a tossup, and given past experience and the look on her face, he was inclined to lean towards the latter.

Still, why say it so softly if it was meant as a threat?

"You're coming with me," Monroe said to Laura. "Let's go talk to Johnny and see if he's willing to be as forgiving as I am."

"I'm sure I can convince him. A little show of loyalty, an explanation… It's all a bit of a misunderstanding."

She gave Brendan one last glance before disappearing behind the door, leaving him alone.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because when he opened his eyes, he was in a different place. The walls were painted a cool mint green, and the bed was surrounded by white railing. Machines whirred and beeped next to him, and sunshine spilled in through the bay window. The smell of springtime breezed in with it.

Brendan turned his head to find a man standing next to his bed in a white lab coat. He was older, black, bald, with warm brown eyes and half-moon glasses.

Brendan squinted at him, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. "Where am I?"

"The hospital," the man in the coat announced. "I'm your doctor. How are you feeling?"

"…fuzzy-headed… What happened?"

"The Met stormed the warehouse where you were being held prisoner and rescued you. The government is dealing with those responsible."

"Oh…"

"What is it that they wanted from you?"

Brendan scrubbed his hands over his face again. "Why does that matter?"

"The authorities are just trying to understand what happened."

"Oh… Okay…" Brendan said hesitantly. Something didn't feel right. "Am I going to be okay?"

"Seems so. You've got a bit of a concussion, some infection in your lungs. You might walk out of here with a few scars, but you'll walk out of here."

"Is… is Brain here? My friends… Is anyone here? Can I talk to them?"

"We can bring you a phone if you like. We weren't exactly sure who to contact."

Brendan blinked a few times, tugging at the collar of his hospital gown. "Y… yeah, fine… Is it hot in here?"

"I'll have a nurse turn down the temperature."

The doctor moved out of the room. Brendan waited a moment before pulling his IV line free and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. His head swam as he stood, fists gripping the railing as he tried not to collapse. His legs were still wobbly from the sedative, he reasoned-

…but that didn't make any sense. It should have been out of his system by now. It was dark when he was captured, and it was daytime now.

It was also springtime.

As the doctor returned to the room, carrying a phone, he gave pause. Brendan stared at him wide eyed, realizing he could see him entirely clearly even though he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"This is a dream," Brendan said.

The doctor was quiet for a moment.

"So, are you the extractor? Or are you just a distraction while you look for answers inside my head?" Brendan asked, taking a step back.

"What are you talking about?" the doctor asked. "Sir, please get back into bed."

"Did you think I was just going to lie dormy while you poked around in my brain for answers? You wanted me to make that call so you could find out who I was working with, so you could find out where they were. You knew my projections of them would come here!"

"You're delirious."

"Am I?" Brendan spat. "You're Charlie, aren't you? The forger! Don't pretend you're not. Doctors don't ask questions for the authorities, and they sure as hell aren't so blasé when their patient is fuzzy-headed. You would have asked my name because I didn't have any I.D. on me. You would have found out as much about me as you could… but you're not worried about me. You're just holding me here, trying to keep me from being suspicious."

The doctor's eyes widened a little.

Brendan smirked. "Forging's all in the little details."

The doctor sighed, his forgery dispersing in a blink. It was indeed Charlie.

"You're not very good at this," Brendan said. "No wonder you never made it to the big time."

"Please don't fight us. Once Johnny sees that you know from nothing, he'll let you go."

"Yeah, he'll let me go off the edge of a bridge with cinder blocks tied to my feet. Don't even try to convince me for a second that he isn't going to chill me off as soon as he's got his answers. You're not that stupid, and I outsmarted you and your buddies once before so don't for a second think I'm that stupid."

Charlie sagged. "Fine. Yeah, I know, but… It's not like I've got any choice in the matter here, you know? You think I want this? Pals of mine have died. Johnny's got his thumb down on all of us and a lot of loyal guys to back him up."

Brendan worked his jaw, thinking. "Keep me alive, and I'll get you out."

"Uh, no offense, but you're more behind the eight ball than I am. I don't know if you're really in the position to be making deals-"

"A deal's a deal. It doesn't cost you anything if it doesn't work out."

"I'm not the only one that wants out."

"Bring whoever you're going to bring, but if they turn out to be grifters and sell you down the river, that's none of my business. Help me, and I'll help you."

"Why would you do that?"

"It's not personal. I don't know your story, and frankly I don't really care, but I need people on the in if I'm going to get out. As long as you don't gum it all up, I think we can all get what we want here."

"Johnny will come after us."

Brendan shifted awkwardly. "Yeah… I'm still working on that part. I'll take care of it somehow. Give me some time. Make sure you or one of your guys comes to my room… or Laura."

"What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Well. Right now I'm going to kill myself."

"What?"

Brendan dove out the window of the hospital and only just managed to register the wind brushing against his cheekbones before he collided with the hard pavement below.

He jolted awake, yanking against his chains uselessly. His struggle was brought to a stop almost as soon as it started because one of the few in the room with him punched him. It stung in his jaw, but it wasn't the hardest hit Brendan had ever endured.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Brendan said, looking directly at Charlie, waiting for confirmation that he remembered what they'd discussed.

Charlie swallowed, blinked once.

"Your architect is pathetic," Brendan said, smiling cheekily. "Come on. Springtime? Was that supposed to put me at ease? Make me think of California? Maybe you should let me build the mazes. Of course, my subconscious isn't too friendly when it knows the layouts. Either way, you had the advantage of catching me off guard before. I wonder if you'll be able to manage that again? Hate to say it, but probably not." Well, that took the heat off of Charlie's forge at least. It should have been a show of good faith.

The anger that flooded over the architect, a man Brendan had never seen before-older, Asian, thick glasses, bulky-was impressive. Brendan honestly expected him to attack, but the man had more self-control than he'd given him credit for. It didn't exactly help that the young black man who had assisted in capturing Brendan-probably the extractor-looked like he was fighting off the urge to laugh. Now that Brendan got a good look at the kid, he realized that he couldn't be any older than Eames. The way his hair was shaved, he was inclined to believe this kid had been in the military too.

"Did you get anything?" the Asian man growled, turning his eyes on the extractor who promptly sobered his expression.

"No information. I wasn't down there long enough. I did see some projections though. I saw… Eames."

Charlie looked a bit like he'd be ill just because of that statement. Apparently Eames and Johnny weren't on friendly terms, though Brendan could have guessed that from how Eames responded to John's name.

"How do you know Eames?" the architect asked, voice soft but severe.

"Which one's Eames?" Brendan asked.

"Don't play stupid!"

"Is he that guy with the mouth? Yeah, had a fling with him a couple of days ago. Really nice hotel room. He's a little handsy, and he talks too much. Good kisser though."

"He is Eames's type," the extractor said. His accent was distinctly English. He knew who Eames was-maybe they were friends at one time. It was information Brendan filed away as possibly useful.

"I can close my eyes if you want to go again," Brendan piped up. "Think you could bring me something to eat first though? I'm starved, and my thoughts might get a little fuzzy if I don't at least have a granola bar or something."

That earned him another smack to the face before the architect stormed out.

"Go get him something to eat, Russell," Charlie said. "I'll pack things up here."

Russell shrugged a shoulder. "Be quick or Johnny will come after you. He's already brassed off at you and Monroe and Haji for having to do all this work, and I'm not going to stand in his line of fire if I don't have to."

"Yeah, I get it," Charlie said shortly. "Don't remind me, okay?"

"All right," Russell said, smirking a little. "I'll throw something together."

As soon as Russell was gone, Charlie started winding up the PASIV lines, mouth pressed into a thin line. "I feel like you're going to get me knocked off, you know?" he said.

"You're probably as good as dead if you keep working for him anyway," Brendan said.

"Yeah, well, how about you try and play the part of good prisoner until I can give Russ the rap over your nearly-nonexistent, crazy-pants plan, all right? Try not to be so belligerent."

"Belligerence makes people angry, which makes them sloppy. I'm buying time," Brendan said. "I know what I'm doing. Relax."

"The prisoner chained to the bed is telling me to relax."

"Who has the keys to these chains?"

"Monroe did last I checked. Johnny might have them now, but I don't know. Monroe's the boss man's most loyal dog so Johnny might at least trust him with those. I'll have to check."

"Check," Brendan nodded, "and glaum them if you get the chance."

"I think you're putting more faith in me than I deserve."

"You were a pickpocket."

"My talents as a pickpocket are a bit exaggerated. I can handle myself with ordinary folks, but everyone here is wise to that kind of stuff."

"Do what you can. It might take some time, but time's all I've got right now. I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"They already know you've met up with Eames."

"Yeah, about that… What's the wire on Eames? Seems like you guys have got issues."

"I don't. Actually, I've never met the guy. Russ knew him in the military. They were in the same unit, soldiers being trained on the PASIV. They were good friends as far as I know, but when Johnny decided to take dreamshare into his own hands and turn it into a business, they were separated. Johnny… how can I say this delicately… 'drafted' a good amount of the soldiers under him into his service. He had all of their information after all, knew where their families lived. Eames and this other guy Antony ran before Johnny could get his mitts on them though. They didn't have anyone to threaten because all they had was each other, you know? The somnacin had already done a number on Antony's head though, and last I heard he filled himself with daylight. Eames went on this revenge kick, killed some deserving assholes, then dropped off the map. Now, it's going to get around that Eames is in on all this. Now, I need you to tell me… is he?"

Brendan blinked, averting his gaze for a moment. "I don't really know how to answer. Eames has got his own agenda, just like I do. That's all I know."

Charlie nodded. "Okay."

Brendan sighed, closing his eyes. The light was giving him a migraine.

"Just try and stay with me, all right?" Charlie said softly. "That junk they've got in the PASIV can cause some pretty severe side effects for the dreamer if used in large quantities."

"Laura already told me."

"I'm just warning you."

Brendan smiled a little. "You remind me of my friend Brain."

"I sure as hell hope that's a compliment."

Charlie hurried out with the PASIV. Brendan let out a long breath and mentally crossed his fingers.

If he could work things out, he might just get out of here alive.

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