InsaneJournal

Who: Ariadne, Arthur, Eames and Morpheus
What: Breaking Eames’ fever, the unorthodox way.
Where: Eames’ head. Again.
When: Following on from this, March 13th. I am catching up on myself!
Rating: confused
Note: Danny looks uncannily like teenage!Huck! How odd. Hmmm.



Danny couldn’t find his mum. He’d been looking for ages now (he thought) and he’d checked all the obvious places, like the shops and the bar that seemed to be next door, so he went home and started looking around in there. The ballroom that was somehow just off the kitchen was full of his father’s friends, faceless men drinking gin and tonics in ill-fitting suits that all blended into one another like they’d been drawn in chalk or pastels - Arthur would have been disgusted at the tailoring, he thought to himself absently, then wondered who Arthur was - and when he’d shown his face in there, his father’s disapproving voice had sent him sulking back into the kitchen, and the laughter of the faceless men followed him out. He checked in the kennels that were under the sink, because it made sense for Archie to sleep there when the Alsatian would only drink water that dripped from the tap, but his mum wasn’t in there either. The cook chased him out with a egg-whisk once he’d asked if he knew where his mum was, and then he was lost in the halls of the townhouse he should have known like the back of his own hand.

But everywhere was too warm and the walls were sagging slightly under the heat and he was so confused. He passed a group of people he knew from when he was going to be in the army, and their camouflage gear meant that he almost tripped over them before he noticed them huddling together. They appeared to be made of watercolours, layer upon layer of pigments and the odd little hint of pencil marks showing through so that he could almost work out who they’d been before the army started adding browns and greens and sometimes ochres to them. He was a bit afraid of them, since they all had guns and he had nothing but a cheeky grin and a quick tongue (his mum always told him they’d get him into trouble, and she was right. He usually managed to talk himself back out of trouble as well, though, so that was okay) so he left them to mingle together in the entrance hall and went upstairs to check the main living room, avoiding the stairs that wanted to keep a hold of his ankles.

It was full of people who weren’t quite squaddies, but they still seemed to have that general air of menace around them. These people were like acrylics, bright colours layered over darker hints underneath where the top coats hadn’t quite covered everything. Danny liked these people, oddly enough, as they whispered secrets to each other and pooled together under the blazing heat of the sun that seemed to be hanging just outside the bay window. He considered staying for a moment, to see if he could find out what some of the secrets were, but then he remembered he was looking for his mum, so he turned and left the room. Pushing his damp hair back out of his face, he scowled at how warm he felt even as he pulled his checked shirt in tighter to stop himself shivering so much. He wasn’t sure where to go now, his headache only adding to the confusion he’d been fighting since he started looking for his mum. If he went on upstairs, it was only the bedrooms and bathrooms and he didn’t really think she’d be up there at this time of day. He wasn’t allowed in Father’s study which was the only other room on the first floor but maybe this once, he wouldn’t mind. Danny really didn’t feel very well, after all.

Maybe this hadn't been a good idea. Eames had clearly been quite agitated in his sleep, which was normal for someone running a fever as high as his was. And given their close relationship - she hesitated to call it a friendship - with the lord of dreams, it seemed only natural to ask if he could drop her into Eames's head. Just to check on him, and possibly to see if there was any way they could break the fever. The mind and body worked together in mysterious ways, after all. And of course once he heard what she was doing Arthur insisted on coming too, which she assured him was wholly unnecessary, but he wouldn't hear any of it, and now...

Now they were in somewhere she hadn't expected at all, a stately townhouse that was not quite right. Somehow she hadn't expected the inside of Eames's head to look this proper, or this sedate. Ariadne reached out to one of the walls as it slumped, the wallpaper's pattern bulging and buckling strangely, and let out a gasp as her hand sunk into it. When she pulled her hand back the wall stretched with it, strands pulling out and snapping like salt-water taffy. Apparently the sweltering heat had started to affect the rest of the dream in strange ways. At least she was learning something, she reflected, shaking the gooey print off her hands and glaring at the wall. It straightened up a bit at her look as if scared into better posture, and she nodded, turning her gaze to the sun outside.

"The shadows are wrong," she remarked, taking off her jacket. When she dropped it on the desk it started to melt into the wood as she turned back to the window. "Not like that's the most obvious thing that's wrong here, but it's also true." Outside the sun dimmed as a cloudbank rolled in, and the shadows obligingly grayed out.

Morpheus was slipping from one painted shadow to the next, scenes and colors running together in a delirious swirl. His baby sister’s fingerprints were all over this dream, and he felt strangely protective of the dreamers because of it. He knew how delicate--how fragile--the minds of those touched by Delirium’s influence could be. He would no sooner see Eames or his guest hurt than he would see his sister hurt.

Little Danny did not belong to Lady Del completely, but the edges had begun to blur enough between Dream’s realm and hers that he thought it best to go with the flow. For the moment, he was only here to keep watch.

Despite the want to find out exactly where Eames was in this whole Salvador Dali-esque mess, Arthur kept protectively close to Ariadne. He’d been in Eames’ dreams on previous jobs, but this was something else. He half expected they’d be walking into a pub or some hole in the wall in godknowswhere Africa. But all that aside, he had to admit it had a sadly beautiful look to it all. His fingers brushed over the arm of a chair, warping it down into a U-shape. Arthur had to hand it to Eames, the man had a creative imagination. “I know now really isn’t the time, but I’m half curious as to if you can walk through these walls. I’m certainly not suggesting it. The last thing either of us need is to be trapped down here without a way out.”

Moving over to the closest window, Arthur did his best to open it, being as gentle as possible with the latch to keep it in tact before pushing it up, “I should have tried to give him another Tylenol before we came in here. Not that he could have swallowed the damn thing being out like he is.”

Danny could hear voices in his father's study, and wondered if he was having another meeting. Then he remembered that Father was entertaining downstairs, so there couldn't be a meeting on, especially not in his study without him being there. Very strange. Moving carefully and quickly, he opened the door quietly - it squeaked for everyone else, but he'd long since learnt the trick - and looked in.

Two people were standing in the room, looking out of the window. He thought he recognised them, because they reminded him of the oddest things. The young woman made him think of Paris, and the man in the suit would have been perfectly at home with the soldiers downstairs. Danny also knew the suit-man had an amazing arse and a brilliant smile, just as he knew the woman's hair felt wonderful and her laugh was totally filthy. He just couldn't place how he knew them.

Pushing his hair back from his face again, he cleared his throat and tried to look like he didn't feel like shit. "This is my father's study. I doubt he's expecting either of you so, uh, why are you in here?"

The normal background noises in the house all went silent as he spoke, and if he listened very carefully, Danny would have heard what sounded like dozens of guns being prepared for use.

Morpheus could walk through the walls, and he did. For all intents and purposes he had become a part of them, facilitating and encompassing the three young dreamers. Holding them in the palm of his hand, whether they could see him or not.

It was too hot in Daniel Eames’ mind, thanks to the fever that wracked his body, and Morpheus knew that if the structure dream began to melt down and collapse, it could put all three of his charges in danger. So he blew a gentle breath upon the scene in his hands, thinking of rain.

But he stilled his breath when he caught that sound. Danny had just alerted the house that something was amiss.

If it hadn't been for the sudden, eerie silence, Ariadne might have laughed at the sight that greeted her when she turned. It was definitely Eames - she'd memorized that jawline and that prominent nose already - but he was positively scrawny. He was only a few inches taller than her, about as skinny as Arthur, and looked not only younger but more uncertain than she'd ever seen the Forger behave. And that wasn't even taking the ripped jeans and flannel straight out of Seattle into account.

"Eames - Danny?" she said, trying to put on a friendly smile. "Do you remember who we are?" She was going to continue when the dull thudding of feet overhead and in the hallway began. The sound of the projections approaching startled her into a step backwards, and Ariadne found herself starting to melt into Arthur rather than bumping against him. And that was weird and wrong and unsettling like feeling a bullet slam through the skull or a knife slide through the ribs in a dream and remembering the sensation afterwards when it should have killed you. Pulling away sharply, she reached out and twisted with her mind, hands clenching into fists, and -

They stood on a snowy mountain, wind whistling through the trees below. Tucked in between the slopes was a fortress that appeared to be abandoned. "There. That's better." Shivering was better than the oppressive heat of the house.

Danny had been about to reply, although he didn't have a clue what he'd been going to say. And then they were in the snow. It was fucking freezing, painfully so, and he was already shivering so hard he didn't think he'd be able to speak. Naturally, he still tried. "W-Wuh-what's b-better? How... how... how d-did you... I know th-th-th-this place..." he stammered out as his body decided that shivering was pointless and huge shudders all over was the way to go.

He was far too cold to function properly. Too cold to notice the other man who was standing behind the woman and the man in the suit until he finally saw him, and then Danny couldn't stop trying to look at all three of them. One of his hands was wrapped tightly round the poker chip he wore on a leather thong round his neck, and his other arm held his shirt closed in a pointless attempt to keep warm, but Danny could not and would not look away. "I kn-n- I know you. D-d-don't I?"

Despite it being as fucking cold as it now was, Arthur pulled his jacket off when Eames began to shiver. He didn’t exactly bolt over to the smaller man, instead he gradually walked around the pair he was with. “Yeah. You know us, Dan.”

Arthur stopped a few feet in front of him, taking in the much younger face fully now. It half reminded him of the days when Eames used to have his face fully shaved. He hid that semi baby face behind the scruff. “We’re here to help you, though.” He wasn’t certain if Eames would take it, but Arthur didn’t mind offering over his coat to him.

Once Ariadne had picked up on the inspiration, Morpheus had slipped into the dream, insinuating himself into the snow globe that was the dream team’s third level, a vision in contrasts. He wore white now instead of his typical black garb, his black hair and eyes starkly silhouetted against the icy backdrop as he approached.

“Indeed we are.”

Ariadne plucked the coat from Arthur's hands and shook it out, the cloth becoming much heavier and a bit broader before she reached up and settled it around Danny's shoulders. The coat was followed by her arms in a quick, tight hug, and she let her hands stay on either side of his neck when she pulled back. He was still far too warm, she realized, looking into his face. She didn't have nearly as far to look up. That was weird.

"This is a dream," she said calmly, despite the wind picking up. "You know us in the real world. Come on, let's get down to the hospital before you fall over." She took his hand in hers and started leading him down the mountain, the distance seeming to pass too quickly under their feet as they walked.

Danny was far too confused to even think about questioning what they were saying. He slipped his arms into the coat sleeves while the woman studied his face, and he fought down the urge to bring his hand up and brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek. Mainly because his hands were like blocks of ice, and she’d likely pull away. Then she was holding his hand anyway and he was stumbling after her as the ground seemed to fly past. He didn’t know if anyone else was following, and he didn’t want to look round because he felt a little bit nauseous, so he concentrated on her hand and nothing much other than that.

Once they stopped, he looked around the building and frowned. “Th-thought I b-b-blew this p-place up,” he muttered, then turned back to the woman. “Ariadne,” he said with a slight smile, and for a brief moment, he flickered into his normal, older, self before turning back into a fifteen-year-old as another wave of heat washed over him, making him shudder all over once more.

"You did," Ariadne replied. The momentary change of Eames's shape made her blink hard. "This is from before that, when I first taught you the level. Do you remember that, Danny? You know who I am." After all, he remembered her name. Not letting go of his hand, she turned and waved at the other two figures. "We should go inside. It's cold, but it's not as windy." And her hair was currently being blown all over the place. At some point she'd gained a coat, more cloak-like than her favorite red jacket, its folds snapping crisply in the breeze.

The slight flicker from young Eames to older Eames caught Arthur off guard. Even more so when he changed back to his younger self. He made a mental note to not let anyone into his dreams when he was sick. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, Arthur unfolded it until it became a large jacket. Despite the size and thickness of his coat, Arthur could still feel the bite from the wind. Quickly walking up behind the pair, he pressed a hand to Ariadne’s shoulder, “Please. Inside now, if possible.”

Morpheus brought up the rear, ushering the trio inside, and feeling like something of a mother hen, with his white cape billowing out behind him like a pair of oversize wings to block the wind. Their first concern would be getting Danny comfortable, but once they were inside, he could summon fire, if need be.

Danny. Morpheus had never really thought about it before, but it occurred to him now that Eames shared the same first name as the boy who would become Dream’s successor. His son. Daniel Hall. Perhaps that was another reason Morpheus felt such an affinity for Eames and his companions.

“I’ll secure the door,” he said to Arthur, shutting them all safely inside the compound in the twinkling of an eye. “Let’s see about breaking that fever.”

They were being moved into the building before Danny even managed to think up a reply, and the sudden changes in scenery and temperature sent him reeling as his eyes sent pictures to his brain far too quickly to keep up with and everywhere felt like it was heating up once more. Stumbling forward, he landed heavily on his knees and tried his best not to drag Ariadne down with him. His head was spinning, his entire body ached, he felt far too warm and he was convinced he was going to be sick. Shuddering all over again, he tried to stand up but couldn't manage it. This was fucking horrible.

It was barely warmer inside than it had been on the mountain, and Ariadne couldn't stop her teeth from chattering. But she soon had more to worry about as Eames collapsed next to her. Staying on her feet was a challenge. Instead she knelt next to Eames and guided him to sit. "C'mon, you oaf, sit down. You don't need to be going anywhere." Her arm went around his back and tried to steady him through another shudder. Ariadne looked up at Arthur and Dream a little helplessly, doing her best to hide just how worried she was. "First aid is not my strong suit. A little help?"

Arthur wasn’t wasting any time now. Pulling off his heavy jacket, he folded it in half and knelt down on Eames’ other side. “Are you feeling hot or cold, Dan?” Either way, he’d rather Eames be in comfortable clothes so he might be taking the current ones the forger had on soon enough. For now though, he was gently pushing him back down onto the floor, moving his jacket behind his head.

Looking up at Ariadne, Arthur tugged a little at her jacket. “Might need a blanket and some water. Ice too. I’m not exactly sure what it’s going to take to break this, but I figure we can try everything if we need to.”

Once the door was secure, their little corner of the Dreaming safe from inquisitive projections, Morpheus began to move about the room, reshaping it to suit their needs. A fireplace carved itself out of the concrete walls, flames glowing warmly from behind a screen. It wouldn’t do to have the other two catching a chill.

A basin of cool water appeared in his hands, a bucket of ice on the table beside him, and a pile of blankets folded neatly across the end of a futon nearby. “There is one other person we might call,” he suggested, “The mage, Neria, is skilled in dreams and healing, and she is one of mine.”

Danny didn’t notice anything going on, other than Ariadne having her arm round him, and then the suit-man kneeling beside him. No. Not suit-man. Arthur. Arthur was making him lie down and putting something under his head, so he watched him as best he could, even when Arthur was looking at Ariadne. “Arthur. Yuh-you’re Arthur. Darling,” he muttered under his breath while someone else was talking, then tried to paw at his shirt and tee-shirt because he was far too hot.

“We may need her, Morpheus,” Arthur said before moving his attentions back down to where Eames was pawing at his shirt. He couldn’t keep a small smile from his face when he heard the forger’s response, “Yeah, I’m Arthur, Dan. Just hang in, ok?” With a bit of maneuvering, Arthur managed to get the now sweaty shirt off, tossing it aside. Grabbing a glass of water, he tilted Eames’ head up just enough so it would be easy for him to drink.

"Do you think her powers would work in here?" Ariadne asked, shrugging off her cloak. "I mean, I know Sirius's magic worked when we brought him in, but he wasn't affecting us. And would healing him in here heal him in reality?" These were more than just philosophical questions; she was starting to become genuinely concerned. Eames remembering his favorite endearment for Arthur seemed like a good sign, but the rest of it was still worrying. The jacket under Eames's head transformed into a pillow while she brushed the sweat-damp hair back from his face.

“I know her powers would work here,” Morpheus replied, “She is a guardian of the Dreaming, or the Fade, as her people call this realm; specifically trained to heal the body and mind through her connection with the Dreaming.” His eyes flashed as he spoke, with equal parts pride and indignation. Did Ariadne doubt that he knew exactly what each of them was capable of in his own realm?

“But that is not to say,” he added, relenting, “That I could not call upon her to heal him in the physical realm as well.”

Danny gulped at the water, some of it spilling down his cheeks, but he didn’t care because it was cold and it felt lovely, like the hands on his face that followed after. He was vaguely aware that everyone was being very serious about something, but he was more worried about the fact that his water was gone and it had been very nice water. Reaching up with a shaking hand, he tugged on Arthur’s sleeve. “Ask the fox-man for water, please? No, no rubies today,” he whispered, then let his eyes shut as he decided that he should sleep. “None today, too warm for rubies.”

Bending, Arthur whispered in Eames’ ear, “Stay awake with me, Dan. Tell me about what you remember about Ariadne and I?” His arm carefully lifted Eames’ head off of his makeshift pillow while his free arm flicked the pillow out into a roll-away mattress. He didn’t think Eames would be as comfortable on the floor. Thankfully Eames really wasn’t his bulky self. Arthur was able to lift him without a problem. “Tell me anything. Just don’t fall asleep.”

Arthur removed his tie, blew it up into a pillow, and tucked it carefully under Eames’ head before grabbing up a cool wash cloth to wipe the man’s young face.

Ariadne just kept brushing her hands through Eames' hair as the bucket of ice appeared next to her on the floor. She had no idea what to do and she was frankly out of her depth. "If you think you should bring her here, bring her here. I just want him to get better." She glanced over at Arthur, then up at Morpheus. "Just tell me what to do." For now, she took Eames' hand and held it between both of hers. "Danny? Can you stay awake for me, please?"

Morpheus nodded, fading into the shadows for a moment as he shifted his attention to another part of the dreaming. Being omnipresent in dreams, he could seem to be in multiple places at once and still support their little snow-globe of shared space, but a few moments later he returned in fox form.

In his mouth, the fox held a sparkling sapphire, and there was a twinkle in his eye that said he thought he was quite clever; sapphires being in the same mineral family as rubies, but cooler in color. His power, in crystallized form. Padding over to Eames’ futon, he hopped up beside the boy, placing a paw on his chest as if to say that everything would be all right.

People were talking at him, and really, all Danny wanted was for the room to stop spinning and for it to be quiet so he could sleep. But people wanted him to talk and how was he supposed to talk when his head was aching and the room was burning up? He moaned softly and tried to move away but he couldn’t seem to get his limbs to work, and the bed was too soft, so he stayed where he was and kept his eyes shut.

The light touch on his chest was new, so he carefully opened his eyes again and blinked up at the fox. “Alright, boss?” he murmured, then forced himself to reach up and scratch behind the fox’s ears for a few seconds. He couldn’t look away from the blue thing, though, so between that and the fact that his arm felt like it was made of lead, it took a few goes to manage it. “Blue thing’s very... blue,” he said very seriously to Ariadne, then carefully brought his hand round to try and touch the blue thing. And then he felt very strange indeed, so he just closed his eyes and let himself drift.

When Eames touched the sapphire, the atmosphere in the dream shifted. The tension between the warmth of the fireplace and the chill outside abruptly vanished, leaving the air the pleasant temperature of a spring evening. The snow began to drip off the roof of the fortress, forming icicles that sparkled and refracted light inside the gray room, and Ariadne glanced up as a wholly improbable rainbow danced across the wall and onto the floor. Eames felt much cooler under her hand when she touched his forehead again.

"I suppose that did the trick," she said, stealing the washcloth from Arthur and sponging the sweat from Eames' brow. "Thank you. Really," she said to the fox-Dream, smiling a little. Her relief was probably quite obvious.

Arthur sat back on his heels, “Remind me that if I ever have a fever, that we just get one of those things again and be done with it.” Even he had to smile, “But yes, thank you.”

The fox dipped his head in acknowledgment of their thanks, and trotted off, a human shadow stretching out behind him as he passed through a patch of sunlight. Then both he and the shadow vanished, retreating to keep watch over their dreams from a respectful distance once again.