Who: Frost What: A peek into her dreams. Where: A hotel room in Edinburgh When: Late Friday night, August 6th Warnings: Angsty angst. No spoilers for the movie! Because I'm nice? >.> Note: Random present tense ftw? I'm in a weird mood. Plus since when are dreams in past tense, huh?
Frost knows it's dangerous to dream before a job, but today is one of the few days where she couldn't care less. She's had thirty-eight dreams since Cobb invaded her subconscious; tonight will be her thiry-ninth. It's been ten years, and she almost to forty. It would be a milestone if it didn't make her sick to her stomach.
Four times a year, Frost opens the PASIV case, inserts the IV, and pushes the button. Four times a year, she lets herself dream. Alone. These birthdays and anniversaries are not for the others – they're only hers, and she'd rather die than share them. Today is her son's birthday. If he were still alive, he'd be twelve, but in her dreams, there are always only two candles on his cake, two giant candles that won't go out no matter how hard James blows, no matter how red his puffy cheeks get. Frost just smiles from a doorway, like she did when she was Mallory, and watches Tom laugh as he finally takes pity on their son and puts out the candles himself. Sophie cheers loudly, holding her baby sister in her lap and kissing the top of of her head. She holds Melanie like a doll, but with much more care, and she doesn't let go even as she starts to cry, startled by all the noise. She knows how precious her real-life dolly is; her parents taught her well.
Ten years ago, this is when Mallory rushed forward to soothe Melanie before she got too upset, but for the past ten years, all Frost does is watch. She doesn't get involved, she doesn't try to speak to her dead family. It's better this way.
"But it's not easier."
She looks to her left, and there's Cobb. He mirrors the way she leans against the doorway, leaning left instead of right, arms crossed over his chest, casually tense. For all their similarities in this moment, there is one difference: he does not smile. He never smiles. And he's always there, watching with her. She hated that at first, but now she finds it comforting. "This is your dream, too," she says. "You wanna... ?"
He shakes his head. "No. My family was never real. Yours was. Dream of them while you can."
She doesn't say a word, but follows his advice all the same. She watches the birthday party continue in her dreams, but in reality, in the dark hotel room with its stiff sheets and too many towels? She smiles in her sleep, and for ten minutes, she's happy. And then she wakes up.