Chapter 6: Black Hole

Arthur's eyes fluttered closed against Eames's shoulder for a moment but after that moment had passed, he pulled away. "I… can't believe you came after me."

"Yes, you can. Don't I always?"

Arthur smiled weakly, touching Eames's jaw tenderly. "This looks really bad. I really fucking nailed you."

"Yes, you did. Also, you punched me in the face."

Arthur laughed a little. "Somehow, I knew you would say something like that."

"You've made me predictable, darling. Mind telling me why you up and left?"

"I'm sorry." Arthur turned then, entering the guest bathroom and returning with a towel and placing it around Eames's neck. "You should dry off or you'll catch cold."

"Arthur."

"Look… I… I'm sorry, Eames. I shouldn't have run away, but… I realized that I sucked you in and used you to make me feel better. I didn't want to do that. I've been used by everyone my whole life, and it sucks."

"Is that your way of saying that you care about me?" Eames teased, but when Arthur's face looked pained, he lost his humor. "Arthur… you didn't use me."

"Yes, I did…" he went to the window, folding his arms over his chest. "Back when I was still Neil… all of my emotions were solved with sex. When I was little, sex made me feel… special… So, I used it to make me feel important, on top of the world. It was like a drug for me. When… I was… When things got bad, and I realized what an idiot I had been… I decided to let this new me, Arthur, never get lost in passion again. Sex only leads to trouble. It fucked up my first life… it fucked up everybody in my first life. My mom is a promiscuous alcoholic dependent on male affection, Eric is HIV positive, and Brian… Brian's dead… He's dead, Eames. I could have stopped the whole thing from happening. I could have prevented it, but I let it happen. I told him the truth. If I had just told Coach to take me home, to leave him there in the rain… if I had just let him believe we were fuckin' abducted by aliens or some shit… He'd be alive. If he'd been alive, maybe he would have kept Eric from moving away, and then he wouldn't have met the guy who gave him HIV, and he'd be fine. It's my fault. It's my fault, Eames."

Arthur's hands were trembling on the window sill now, and he stared out the window as thunder cracked in the sky. "Neil was fucked up because of sex…" he mumbled, pressing his forehead to the glass. "I couldn't let Arthur be that way. I just… I needed to see that I could be happy without it in my life. Without someone to make me feel special… to really be important and not just wear a cheap imitation of importance. I studied really hard. I refined my speech. I learned how to shoot. I dressed nicely, and I was always polite. People respected Arthur. Really and truthfully respected me… but I just wasn't happy. All that time, I kept thinking 'well that's great but it's all one big fucking lie'. My mind kept telling me how worthless I really was."

Eames's shoulders slumped at that. "You're not worthless at all."

"I'm an object of desire. I'm something to be used and then to be thrown out. That's all I've ever been, ever since I was eight… I was only eight years old. I was only eight years old." His voice had started to quiver and crack, and Arthur's fingers gripped so tightly to the window sill that Eames was sure for a moment that he would rip it off. "How is it… How is it that one moment in time, one memory, one thing can come forth, take control of you, define you? How can something so trivial as one day, or one summer, go and fuck up everything in your life? What did I do… to deserve this road? Is it really just all of my fucking stupid mistakes?" He turned back to Eames and was looking at him again for answers. There were tears pooling in his eyes, and there was no way for him to hold them back. His control had been damaged the night before in the street, and he had yet to grasp it and cram his emotions back into the little box he stored them in.

Eames took a step forward, another one, and another. Arthur then stumbled to him and sobbed his same brokenhearted sounds into his chest. "It's not fucking fair, Eames!"

"I know, love… I know…" Eames said, stroking his hair.

"I ran away from you because I knew that you were making me feel things again… and if I lost what little control I had left… I didn't think I'd ever get it back… and then you came after me."

"You're always leading me on a merry chase," Eames replied, "and it is okay to lose control once in awhile, you know. It may feel like you'll never get it back but you always do."

"No. No!" Arthur shouted and shoved Eames away from him. "When I lose control of my situation, bad things happen! You don't get it! You don't get it at all!"

"Well, if you'd explain it to me, then I would get it. Please, Arthur, tell me. For God's sakes, tell me something."

Arthur shook his head and crossed to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it. Eames tried to catch him before the door shut, but he didn't.

"Arthur. Arthur, blast it!" Eames shouted, pounding on the door.

Arthur shouted out some unintelligible, horrified cries, and Eames stopped.

He'd had answers to a lot of things he hadn't before, but now he realized that he didn't know why Arthur never showered when other people were with him, why he always made sure the bathroom door was locked, even if he was just brushing his teeth, why the idea of sharing a shower with someone else turned him to ice.

He tried to coax Arthur out, but he wouldn't budge, and so Eames gave up and left him alone for the time being.

Eames didn't see Arthur for the rest of the day, but when he passed his bedroom late into the evening, he saw Arthur in his bed, dressed up and curled into the fetal position. Eames entered the room and crawled into the bed next to him, and Arthur didn't shove him away when he put his arms around him.

When morning came, Eames let Arthur sleep and went downstairs for coffee. Cobb had already made a pot and was staring over his own cup at Eames. "Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" he asked.

"I already told you," Eames said tiredly, missing his usual amusement. "I fucked up in trying to get Arthur to face his past. I thought it would make him better, but I'm beginning to think it made him worse."

"What did his past have to hide? I mean, when Mal introduced me to him, he looked pretty fucked up, but…"

"Of course he looked fucked up," Eames said bitterly, sipping at his coffee. He'd never drank black coffee before, but this morning it felt appropriate. "He was suicidal. He was trying to starve himself or deprive himself of sleep until he dropped dead. Your wife was the only person to show him any concern, so he recovered on her behalf. Thinking back on it, ever since she died, Arthur has been deteriorating. He buried himself in work after she died, didn't he?"

"He was always working hard. He was buried in work because I buried myself in work."

"You never noticed anything?"

"Arthur's perfectionism was always bad, but maybe it did get worse after Mal died…" Cobb paused, mulling it over. "Actually… it got really bad, now that I think about it. If something were to go even remotely wrong, even something small, he'd have an absolute breakdown. He seemed to get a grasp on it after a couple of months though."

Eames shook his head. "He started doing it privately because he didn't want to worry you. He didn't tell me that, but I know it's true. He's obsessed with pleasing you, Cobb. Your approval is more important to him than anything because without yours and Mal's approval, he feels worthless."

"What? Why?"

"It's not my place to say…" Eames sighed, eyes staring into the dark liquid that reminded him of Arthur's hair. "All I can say was that he was used too many times."

"By who?"

Eames stared regretfully at Cobb, silently marveling over how much he cared. "Everyone."

Cobb ran a hand through his hair. "So, what are you going to do?"

"Well, the ball has already started rolling, so now all I can do is sit back and hope that things go well."

"What does that mean?"

Arthur stood on the steps when Eames started to make his way up, and the two of them paused before one another. Arthur had appeared to compose himself on the surface, all slicked back hair, suit, and sharp angles, but his eyes were so desperately blue.

"Ah, good to see you. Glad you're here," Eames said, smiling. "I was about to come get you."

"Eames…" Arthur started, stepping off the landing and onto the stairs.

"Darling," Eames replied, stepping aside to let Arthur finish his descent down the stairs.

"Eames, I wanted to apologize about yesterday, and…"

"No worries, pet."

"But-"

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get that," Eames said, and Arthur followed hesitantly after him, peeking at the door from the hall.

The door opened, and the sound of the drizzle outside hit Arthur's ears. Eames glanced back at Arthur, but he was barely noticeable from down the hall.

"Mr. Eames. Aww, good, I'm at the right place."

Eames turned back to the door. "Hello, Wendy."

Wendy, with her hair down and looking like she hadn't slept, smiled hopefully. "When you called me yesterday, I booked a flight right away. I couldn't really afford it, but I had to… See, Eric had already called me and told me that he'd seen 'im, but…" She trailed off, and Eames knew why.

Arthur had stepped into the foyer, hands at his sides, face pale. "Boo," he said, smiling weakly.

Wendy pushed passed Eames slowly, squinting at him as if there was some sort of bright light coming off of him. "…Neil? Is that really you?"

He just nodded. "Sort of."

Eames could only watch with shock when she hauled back her fist and punched him square in the nose. Arthur stumbled back and tumbled over, holding his nose.

"Bleeding Christ!" Eames shouted with horror, shutting the door. There was sounds of Cobb on the steps, but he didn't come all the way down.

Arthur lifted his head, blood seeping from his nose. "I deserved that."

"You're damn right you did, McCormick!" Wendy shouted, and her eyes were leaking tears like they'd never cried before. "You've got some explaining to do!"

He wiped at his nose and sniffed. "I can't, Wendy. I…"

Eames touched her shoulder gently. "Right now would be a bad time."

"I'm sick of waiting around for him! I don't care if it's a bad time! I have to know!" She grasped hold of his waistcoat lapels, begging him with her eyes. There was eyeliner streaming all the way down her face.

Arthur's hands took hold of her wrists and gently pulled, allowing her to release his vest. "Wendy."

She set her jaw and exhaled through her nose. "Well?" He just stared at her. "Tell me! Tell me why you left! Tell me why you didn't come back! Do you know how long I fucking looked for you?"

And shock appeared on Arthur's face, subdued to only a raise of his eyebrows, but Eames saw it. He was sure that he saw it. "You looked for me?"

"We all did. Your mom, Eric, the police… Brian was obsessed with finding you again. He was convinced that you left because of him."

"I don't really know why I left anymore. It was just a big waste of time anyway," he replied robotically, as if he was trying to process that he had been wrong all along.

There was a long moment where they just stood there looking at each other, and Eames could feel the closeness between them was something he had yet to achieve. Wendy loved him, not like a lover, not like a brother, not like a friend. Their relationship was indescribable in every sense of the word, and yet it seemed so apparent. He glanced at Cobb on the stairs, still as stone, waiting for something to happen, prepared to step in should things get out of control.

Arthur's head dropped then, and he sniffed back blood again. "I'm sorry."

"For running off?" Wendy asked, voice shaky.

"No…well, yes, but… I've been wanting to say sorry for years… forever… for everything… but, I especially wanted to say it because you were right… about me and… about those other people I got involved with."

"Anyone could have told you that, McCormick. You don't have to apologize to me for stating out the obvious. You quit doing it anyways, so-"

"No." He shook his head. "No. I didn't, not when I said I did."

She furrowed her brows at him, staring at him in concern and confusion. "Neil?"

He looked up at her, looked passed her at Eames. His lower lip was trembling over his clenched jaw, and his fists were white-knuckled. "That night, after work at the sub shop, I took another customer."

"God, Neil," Wendy said with a sigh. "You just-"

"I'm not finished."

She shut up. Eames's gaze hardened, boring into Arthur's blue eyes.

"I took another customer," Arthur started again, and his voice was less controlled than it had been. "He just stopped me on my way home, and I figured 'why not' because I hated that job at the sub shop. I fell right back into my old ways, and I knew you'd be pissed, but I didn't care. Not then."

"Why did you do it?" she couldn't help but ask, but Eames wanted to slap her upside the head.

"I didn't feel important unless I was fucking someone. You knew that."

She didn't nod, but there was something in the shift of her body weight that revealed it was the truth. He knew her too well. "So… what?" she said instead. "What made this job different from all the rest?"

Arthur kept his eyes on Eames the whole time, and Eames realized that Arthur had been planning to tell him this on the stairs. Suddenly, he began to wonder if he wanted to know the answer to why he was so uncomfortable in the bathroom. His stomach twisted.

"Oh, God…" he whispered, and just as he realized the truth, Arthur confirmed it.

"He raped me…" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, vulnerable.

Eames had to lean back against the wall to keep from falling to his knees, and he noticed Cobb gripping to the railing of the stairs, mouth hanging open and eyes far away, as if contemplating whether or not he'd actually heard what he'd just heard. Wendy was gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing but unable to come up with words.

Arthur's gaze shifted to his feet. "He made me suck him, and he spit on me. He got rough, so I locked myself in his bathroom, but he broke in and hit me, and I fell into the bathtub, and that's where it happened." His voice had lost all hint of feeling, as if he was just going through the motions. He'd disconnected himself from the event. "He hit me with the shampoo bottle and kept ramming my head up against the side of the tub and calling me a slut and the next thing I knew… I woke up in the street. He'd tossed me out. He didn't even pay me."

Arthur shifted from one foot to the other. "I went home on the subway. There weren't a lot of people on the train, but not one of them asked if I was all right. No one even looked at me. I was covered in my own blood, bruised and beaten and without a coat, and no one even looked at me. I saw you asleep in bed, Wendy, but I didn't want to tell you what happened. I thought that you would be mad, so I stripped and locked myself in our bathroom. I stayed in there all night, got up before you did, and left for the airport. I tossed my bloody clothes in some hobo's fire, and I came up with a story about being mugged on the way to the airport to satisfy my mom. I didn't want you to see me that way, Wendy, and I knew you wouldn't forgive me, so I decided to go home and just… try to forget about New York completely… then, I got home, and I ended up having to remind myself as to why the hell I was so fucked up in the first place… and there was a big blur of shit and hatred… and I buried Neil McCormick, became Arthur, and tried to forget about all of that. For awhile it worked, but Neil dug himself back out, and Mr. Eames made me realize that…" he smiled half-heartedly, and tears welled in his eyes. "Well, he helped me realize a lot of things."

Wendy pressed her face into Arthur's chest, arms wrapping around him. "I'm not pissed. I wouldn't have been. You know that I wouldn't have been."

"Maybe I was just ashamed of myself."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Eames breathed, and he felt like he had been holding a breath for far too long. "You actually blame yourself for what that bloody bastard… that fucking… I ought to wail on you myself!"

Wendy looked back at Eames, slowly releasing Arthur as he gently pushed her away by the shoulders.

"You should," Arthur told him. "There's nothing you can say that will make me believe it wasn't my fault. I chose to go with him. I knew the risks. I let control slip away from me, and it happened."

Eames wanted to haul off and hit him, hard. He wanted to shout the worst obscenities at him that he could think of. He wanted to do a lot of things…

But instead, he just hung his head and cried like a baby.

Wendy wouldn't leave Arthur alone for most of the day, wanting to hear about what his life was like now, trying to get him in better spirits and herself too. He told her all about dream work, and she was fascinated by the idea of it, even asked Cobb and him to let her go under just once.

Cobb had laughed at her then. "No one goes under just once," he told her.

Arthur promised her on their next get together, he'd bring the PASIV and show her what it was like. Wendy didn't hold water to his promise, since he was king of the promise-breakers, but she smiled and said 'okay' anyway.

Eames went upstairs and slept. He slept like he hadn't slept in days, in weeks, in years… and for the first time in a long time, he actually dreamed. He couldn't remember what he had dreamed about when he awoke, but he was in tears when he did, grasping at the sheets. It seemed he'd become a teary mess today, he thought. Considering he never cried at anything, it was more than a little unnerving. Eames couldn't help but wonder if Arthur was causing him to lose grasp of his own control.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he didn't hate the idea. He wasn't like Arthur. He enjoyed losing control once in awhile (though he now understood why Arthur was the way he was, and he wasn't about to tell him to do otherwise- not now. God, he had been so foolish).

Perhaps "losing control" was too vague. Eames liked that Arthur challenged his control. He didn't mind letting his body do whatever it wanted when it came to Arthur (as long as Arthur let him, of course). He'd let Arthur pull on his puppet strings all he wanted in order to make him happy.

Eames had never wanted to make anyone happy before, other than himself (and maybe his mum when he was a child).

"Bloody hell, he really did suck me in," Eames remarked to himself in the mirror after washing his face.

Wendy had to go home, and Arthur and she hugged for a good five minutes before she headed off to the bus station. He promised to come visit her, pinky swore. She may have been skeptical, but Eames believed him. Cobb reassured her by saying he would drive Arthur there himself.

After she was gone, Eames found Arthur on the back porch, smoking. His forehead was leaning against the railing.

"She bruised your nose," Eames said.

"I'm lucky she didn't fucking break it," Arthur replied tiredly.

Eames took a seat next to him, staring out into the yard. Phillipa and James were playing, and the sun was shining, and things seemed brighter than they had in a long time.

"Why did you…" Arthur started.

"Cry like a bloody girl?" Eames asked, smirking knowingly. "Why do you think?"

"…I don't know… that's why I was asking."

"I cried because it upset me. It hurt me, Arthur."

"It didn't have anything to do with you."

"But it had everything to do with you, and that's why it hurt me."

Arthur looked at him for a long moment, realization slowly coming across his features. "Eames…"

Eames took Arthur's hand and kissed the fingers. "Don't look so surprised, darling. You're quite magnetic, you know."

"Well, then…" Arthur mumbled, blushing surprisingly innocently. "You should know something about me. I'm sure Wendy told you… I have a big black hole where my heart's supposed to be."

Eames shrugged, leaning back on the steps, smiling peacefully. "That's all right. You can have mine if you like. I won't be using it around anyone else anyway."

Arthur's eyebrows raised.

He smiled.

"Let's go out to lunch. You buy."

(Nine.)

Arthur's got a lot of issues, and being Neil is only part of the problem, but if he's willing to give Eames a chance, Eames is willing to oblige.

(Ten.)

Arthur doesn't grind his teeth anymore, and he actually owns a set of pajamas.

(That's the end. Or rather. The beginning.)