A/N: This is my first shot at an Inception fic - or at least posting one. I absolutely ADORE this movie, and hope I can see it one more time before it leaves theaters and disappears for a few months while they make it into a DVD with a bajillion special features, because three is a magic number for me. :) I wrote this fic with a sort of challenge for me, so it might be a little different (maybe a lot? I dunno how far my writing has changed) from my old stuff. Anyways, I've pored over this thing fifty times in the past two or three days, but it technically hasn't been beta-ed, so hopefully it's all right.
For the quote, I can't be certain if it's the exact one, but it's close enough.
Disclaimer: Inception is not mine; I only wish.
"Who would want to be in a dream for ten years?"
"It would depend on what the dream is."
Their personalities clashed. It would never work out. There wouldn't be anything they had in common. His smiles – the real ones that made her stomach flutter like mad – weren't really reserved for her, as much as she wanted to believe it. His caring glances and gentle movements had probably been repeated numerous times before when he took care of others under Cobb's employment. The intense heat that seemed to radiate from him was a normal thing; everyone felt it as well, and she was the only one that was letting it fluster her so much. He didn't just work late nights by her side to make sure she ate and slept, although it definitely felt that way to her. Each proud look he gave her after anyone – himself or someone on the team – complimented her was because he was glad to know that she was succeeding in her part of the job, not just because he was happy for her. The defensive tension his shoulders gained every time someone criticized or questioned one of her ideas, making her feel dejected was simply because he felt the need to protect his "little sister," as the team had taken to calling the Architect. The encouraging looks he gave her was because he wanted her to do as well as she could possibly do, not because he was happy to see her working so excitedly. That every time he hovered protectively over her desk, it was simply to make sure that she felt safe in such a dangerous job, especially after her first encounter with Mal, and that she was the only one who felt the tension and heat in the air. The fact that soap seemed to smell better on him, despite the fact that it smelled like the generic Parisian brand that she had smelled on countless numbers of her classmates, and that she got tongue-tied whenever they made eye contact was just her mind playing tricks on her, she wasn't really feeling anything for her co-worker. In all truths, she was just afraid – afraid that she was wrong, that she was reading too much into everything, and come out looking like a lovesick teenager.
She continued to tell herself those words, over and over again, as they had gone through preparations for the Fischer job. She had done her job, with him behind her, giving her support and ideas when she felt like collapsing. She designed each level as intricate mazes that would give them the ability to avoid the projections for as long as possible. There wasn't any more to her job description except to make sure that the Dreamers had these intricate mazes to dream up for each level. She could leave, not get caught up in the lives of the others, or learn about the people behind the Dreams, now that her job was pretty much done.
And yet, she couldn't help herself. She wanted so badly to immerse herself in the business of dream sharing. She was determined to learn everything she could – the rules, the capabilities, the boundaries of the world. She always felt the pull of it, the thrill of the experience. She knew that she wanted, more than anything, to get lost in that world.
And yet – she wanted to believe – he would not let her. And she was right; he wanted to let her be free, be happy, be able to do what she wanted, physics be damned. He was determined to let her learn as much as she could, to grow to be a better Architect, but not at the expense of her reality. He always felt the pull of her smile, her creative energy, as it yearned for another hour in the Dreamscape. He knew how dangerous getting lost in the Dreamscape could be, though.
He had been there, watched from afar, as it had happened before. He couldn't watch her go through that same experience; the feeling of being lost when in reality, of not believing that it could truly be what it was and not a creation of someone's idea. If he allowed her to lose herself that much, he knew it would ruin her. He knew that if she got too immersed, she'd slowly lose that spark that he saw in her eyes every time she started explaining her designs to him at her worktable. He knew that the energy she had when she bustled about, adding and subtracting from the designs, as he stood to the side, hovering protectively over her work area, one hand on the desk as he faced her, waiting for a moment to add his input as she chattered incessantly about her ideas, would disappear bit by bit. He was afraid that, when she woke up, she would be an empty, paranoid shell, always wondering if she was still dreaming, her contagious smiles and laughter becoming few and far between before vanishing completely. He was, in simple words, afraid for her.
So he convinced Cobb to let her sit out of the actual job. He had known the Extractor for years, and they trusted each other. They were always in debt to each other for something or the other, but neither ever actually looked at the ever-growing tab of life-saving they did for another. Until that day, he had never even thought of how long that list could be. He was acting a little selfishly, he could admit, but he didn't want her to go through what Mal did in the last few months of her life in reality, so he finally looked at and listed it for the Extractor. To keep her sane, he retold every story of every experience they had gone through together that left Cobb in his debt until Cobb told him that he understood and they devised a plan that wouldn't need her to enter the Dreamscape.
In the end, it hadn't worked. Cobb told him that he had insisted, that he told her it wouldn't be safe for her to travel with them, but somehow she won out. She had won an argument against Cobb, pulled the right strings – said the right words – to convince him to let her go. The Point Man couldn't be sure if he was more proud or angry at her for it; winning an argument with Cobb was something he found to be virtually impossible if you didn't know what to say. It also made him curious to know what strings she could possibly pull; being the new girl on the team there couldn't be many she knew that the Point Man didn't, but that was a secret between the two of them until one of them planned on sharing it.
"I had to do it," Cobb said quietly to him as they waited for Saito's plane that would take them to Sydney to be ready for boarding.
"Its fine, Cobb; I'm sure you had a good reason to," he replied solemnly, not looking away from the plane in front of the window. There were just some things one had to face, and his fear of her losing herself in a dream world was just one of them. He heard her musical laughter to his left and glanced over to see her and Eames, the Forger, sitting casually on the hard, plastic seats. Although she had just laughed, and for the most part, seemed relaxed, he could tell that she was still nervous underneath the smiles. Thankfully, she was able to place a fake smile on her face, trying to fool everyone else. He noticed she was playing with the white gold ring around her finger, the small, understated diamond glinting in the Parisian sunrise as she twirled it around her hand. He subconsciously put his left hand in a fist so the tips of his fingers grazed the matching band around his ring finger. Eames, the coordinator of the basics of their "roles" once they reached Sydney, had decided that the Point Man and the Architect would be posing as a newly-married couple since she was a new, last minute addition to the plan – and that he had already had the papers drawn up before Cobb originally banned her from the trip. He was certain that the Forger was either a cruel man who noticed and chose to exploit the tension and heat the Point Man felt around the Architect (he had, mistakenly, allowed himself to get drunk in Eames' presence) or simply a moron. The brunet was certain it was a mix of both.
"I won't put her in danger," Cobb said simply and he only nodded in reply. He was sure that Cobb would try to keep her as safe as possible. After all, the Extractor had told him that she reminded him a lot of his younger self and Cobb knew the dangers of dream sharing with such a creative palette more than anyone else on the team. As Eames had said – on multiple occasions when attempting to get a rise out of him – the Point Man was without the large-scale imagination to take on the role of an Architect.
"I know you won't," he replied just as the flight attendant called for boarding. The Point Man watched as Cobb followed Saito onto the private plane. Yusuf trailed right behind with Eames at his tail, flirting with the attendant smoothly as he waited for his turn.
"Are you coming, Arthur?" she asked, sneaking up behind him as he continued to watch the team in front of him. He turned slowly, a small smile on his face as he looked down at her, a small, sweet smile on her face. "I mean, of course you are, but I just –," she stammered as their brown eyes met, hers an expressive chocolate shade and his an unreadable dark mahogany, and he shook his head, chuckling and stopping her mid-sentence as he took a step backwards to stand by her side.
"I know what you meant, Ariadne," he replied, giving her a small, genuine smile and she smiled back sheepishly. "And I am; I just wanted to make sure everyone got on safely first," he said matter-of-factly, absently placing a hand on the small of her back and ushering her towards the entrance. "Including you," he added as she straightened up a little, holding back a shiver that crawled up her spine at the heat of his touch.
"Oh, that makes sense," she whispered quietly, and he was certain there was a blush creeping up her cheeks. "That's your job after all, right?" she asked, and he could hear a strain of uncertainty lacing her voice.
"Of course," he said simply and she nodded once in agreement, "not to mention that, during a job, your team is like your family, and you're supposed to watch out for family," he continued and she looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. She refused to let it grow anymore, ignoring the tingling feeling at the pit of her stomach; he had said "family," and that meant he probably saw her – as the rest of the team did – as his "little sister."
"Right," she murmured as the woman admitted them onto the plane. Once the door was safely shut behind them and they were standing by one of the long seats, he moved his hand from her back and placed his laptop case on the floor next to his seat. As he sat down, he watched from the corner of his eye while she dropped her messenger bag on the floor and took the seat next to his, leaning her head back to rest on the plane's cool interior. Her hand was, he noticed, in her pocket and he would bet his entire savings on the fact that it was now wrapped around her totem, assuring her that everything was real and that she was safe.
"Not a big fan of flying?" he asked, leaning forward in his seat and putting his hands together as he turned his head to watch her.
"No, not really," she whispered, slouching in her seat as she smiled faintly at him. "My – well, never mind, it's nothing," she murmured, her blush deepening as he watched her intently.
"Why don't I believe that?" he said teasingly, raising his left eyebrow an inch. He could feel Eames watching the duo quizzically, probably wondering where the teasing side of the Point Man had suddenly come from. In all honesty, he didn't even know; it seemed to come out easily whenever he was spending time with the Architect. It scared and intrigued him all the same.
"It's nothing, I swear, Arthur!" she replied, holding her hands up. His gaze never faltered and she bit her lip nervously.
"Really," he said questioningly and she sighed, slouching some more, but watching him intently with her chocolate brown eyes.
"My – my brother died in a plane crash," she whispered and he straightened up. He had heard of that small fact; it was his job, after all, to do a thorough background check on everyone the team would come in contact with, as well as everyone on the team. Its effect on the Architect, though, he hadn't known about. It was one of those things that one didn't learn from an Internet article.
"I'm sorry," he murmured softly and sincerely, sitting up a little and watching her fingers nervously fidget with her chess piece.
"It's fine; I'm sure you already knew that it happened anyways," she said, her smile even weaker as she looked up at him for a second before going back to staring at the golden totem she was rolling in her hands.
He nodded slowly. "I did," he murmured, looking absently at his hands. In his years as Point Man, he had only ever gotten to know the personal details of Cobb's life; everyone else on the team were usually just facts on paper, a once-in-a-while friend of sorts.
"But, you know, you hear about all those people who have had loved ones die in all kinds of crashes, but they still get in cars, and on boats, and on planes," she whispered, leaning forward and he could smell the faint vanilla scent he could only ever associate with her, even though he knew that he had smelled it on multiple women before and after they met. "So, I just – I feel like I'm weak or something for being afraid of planes," she whispered and he looked up, surprised. His short answers usually didn't lead to others revealing things about themselves to him, but he found that, somehow, he didn't mind at all that she was sharing this with him. He wanted to listen and learn everything about her past. "I remember...the first few months after the crash, I could have sworn I saw flashes of the burning metal in my dreams. It scared the hell out of me and I – I didn't know what to do; my mom sent me to a therapist that year," she said almost inaudibly and the Point Man realized that this was not information she shared with just about anyone.
"You're not weak; you must have loved your brother very much to be afraid of something that would probably terrify him and dreaming of it as well, had he survived the plane crash," he said, hesitant as he worried whether or not his statement sounded insensitive.
She nodded slowly, though, as if it was making her feel better rather than making her feel criticized and judged, which relieved him. "I guess that makes sense; I wish my stomach would listen to you like my head is," she joked, chuckling feebly leaning back again and resting her head against the curved metal of the plane.
"Still making you want to vomit?" he asked gently and she nodded slowly, her face twisting slightly.
"Ugh, don't even say that word," she mumbled, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples, and his lips formed a faint smile.
"Here," he said with a slight amused tone in his voice as he waved over the flight attendant that was rolling the drink cart around the cabin. "Ginger ale please," he told her and once she handed him the cup, he slipped a weak sedative, only strong enough to get the Architect to relax and sleep, as she continued to rub at her temples. "Drink; it'll calm your stomach," he said, holding the cup out to the young girl as she leaned forward and took the cup, slipping her totem back in her pocket.
"The whole concept of this job isn't helping my stomach either," she murmured as she rolled the cup between her palms for a second.
"Don't worry; it will all turn out okay," he assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder and she nodded, smiling half-heartedly up at him while trying to keep the heat rising in her body away from her cheeks, where the Point Man was sure to notice it. "Drink; the ginger ale will calm your stomach," he repeated and she nodded, downing the entire drink quickly before leaning back in her seat.
She smiled at him before laying her head against the metal again. "Thank you," she whispered just before she closed her eyes. He sighed as he leaned back in the seat as well, deciding that he probably needed a nap as well before closing his eyes and clearing his mind.
Click!
The Point Man stirred as the soft, robotic sound was followed by an arrogant snicker. Opening his eyes slowly, he saw Eames standing in front of him with a camera in his hand. "What are you doing?" he asked groggily, rubbing at his eyes as he turned his head to the left to stretch his neck. As he turned his head to the right, he inhaled the scent of vanilla and felt his nose rub against something soft. Blinking rapidly, his eyes widened at the realization that there was a weight on his shoulder, and that weight was the Architect's sleeping head.
"You two are bloody adorable," Eames said jokingly before tucking the camera into the bag that sat by his seat. "We'll be landing in half an hour," he added as he opened the manila folder he had spent the past few months compiling and memorizing. "It seems everyone had the same idea," he chuckled, looking around.
The Point Man followed his gaze to see that both Cobb and Yusuf had gone to sleep, heads lulled back against their seats, both shifting in their seats. Saito had his seat tilted back and his feet resting on a sleek, gray ottoman and was waking up slowly. "Did you get any sleep?" he asked the Forger, who nodded without looking up from the file.
"I fell asleep just as the drug you slipped Sleeping Beauty kicked in," he said simply, smirking as he looked up accusingly, albeit also teasingly, at the man before returning to his file.
He shifted slightly, but not too much, not wanting to wake up the Architect leaning on him. She was leaned into the crook of his shoulder and his torso while his arm rested on the back of her seat.
"Comfy?" Eames joked, smirking as the Point Man glared at him. He nodded in acknowledgment to the other occupants as Cobb and Yusuf stirred awake and Saito finally rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"Just shut up, Eames," he replied coolly as an attendant came in and looked out at the group.
"We're almost there and the pilot wanted me to instruct you all to put on your seat belts to prepare for landing," she announced. The plane's atmosphere shifted as everyone woke up fully and the click of the seat belts meeting their locks echoed around them.
"Hey," the Point Man said quietly as he moved his hand onto the Architect's shoulder, nudging her lightly.
"Mm," she murmured shifting a little in her seat and burrowing her face into his shoulder.
"We're almost there," he said simply, aware of the fact that Cobb was watching him, probably perplexed at how uncharacteristic this was for the Point Man, but the man in question – oddly enough – didn't feel at all out of place. "Ariadne," he said, nudging her shoulder again.
"Hmm?" she whispered, shifting her head slightly to look up.
"It's almost time for landing," he said simply, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He successfully fought it back as she slowly blinked her eyes open.
"Oh!" she cried out, noticing her position and bolting upright in her seat. "I'm so sorry, Arthur," she replied, blushing as she ran a hand through her hair.
"It's all right," he said simply, nodding as he buckled his seat belt in.
The Architect nodded with a ghost of a smile on her lips as she buckled herself in. Just as that final click was lost in the echo of the cabin, the captain announced their descent into Sydney over the intercom. She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes as her hands fisted in her lap, one wrapped tightly around her totem.
"Deep breaths," the Point Man whispered, turning his head the slightest so she'd be the only one to hear him, fighting the urge to take her hand and wrap it tightly in his. "This man is the best pilot money could buy; we'll be fine," he continued, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards as she looked up at him, a grateful smile on her face.
"Of course," she murmured as the plane shook a little as it hit the ground and the Architect tensed up, practically rigid as it coasted down the runway. The plane finally stopped and she relaxed a little, taking deep breaths as the rest of the cabin bustled about, ready for the doors to open.
"Are you sure you'll be all right on the flight to L.A.?" he asked her as he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward in his seat. She was still frozen, taking deep breaths as she nodded.
"Yeah, I'm usually fine on the plane rides it's just – they slipped on black ice on the runway," she said, quietly. She didn't say who they was, and Eames had raised an eyebrow quizzically as he stood by his seat, eavesdropping on their conversation, but the Point Man knew who she meant, and just nodded as she opened her eyes and met his. He could see the worry and fear in them for a second before she placed a smile on her face, putting the worry and fear in the back of her mind as much as possible.
"I see," he murmured, nodding once more before standing up slowly, picking up his laptop case and resting the strap on his shoulder as Eames, the last of the team save for the two of them, exited the plane.
"Mm," she whispered, unbuckling her seat belt and standing up quickly. "Ah," she cried out as her legs gave out from under her.
"Careful; jet lag doesn't just give you insomnia," he said teasingly as he placed a hand around her waist and held her steady. As she looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise and her hand resting on his shoulder. Suddenly, he was tempted to lean forward and pull her closer, but he fought it. That was frowned upon in the workplace, and this – as uncustomary as it may be – was still a workplace. "Are you feeling better?" he asked as he noticed that the flight attendant was shifting impatiently at the door.
"Mm-hmm," she murmured and he let go of her, standing up straighter before nodding towards the door.
"Let's go, then," he said and she nodded, picking up the messenger bag that she had taken to carrying around during the job and slinging it over her torso, taking deep breaths. She had been through dozens of thrilling and daring experiences that sent her heart pumping fast both in the distant past and in the recent events of dream sharing, but, as far as she was concerned, nothing had ever gotten her heart to beat as fast as that moment when she thought he was going to kiss her. What scared her even more was the fact that she had wanted him to do it...badly. "Ariadne," he said quietly as his hand made contact with the small of her back again, causing her to jump. "Sorry," he said simply as she looked up at him, her eyes wide. "You weren't moving," he explained and she blushed, her lips parting as a soft "oh" escaped her lips.
"Sorry, Arthur," she murmured as he gave her a small smile – a genuine one, she noticed – before she turned away and headed for the door, highly aware of the fact that he hadn't moved his hand from her back as they walked down the catwalk leading to the airport. He didn't move his hand until he had to grab their luggage – theirs, Eames had been mean to her and booked them on the flight as a newly-wed couple. The Architect decided that the next time they went into a dream for preparation of another job, she'd want to be the Subject and have her projections attack the Brit; he was a cruel man for putting her in this situation.
If he continued to drive her crazy like this, she felt like the job really would feel like it went on for ten years.
"Hey," he said simply, putting his hand on her back again. The Architect jumped and looked down to see that he was offering her his laptop case. She opened her mouth to ask what she was supposed to do with that when she noticed that he had their matching his-and-hers luggage set that Eames had jokingly bought for them standing behind him, one hand leaning on the dark green "hers" one.
"Oh, right," she murmured, taking the laptop case. She hated the fact that she felt elated that he trusted her to carry the case; the Point Man had snapped at Yusuf, who had attempted to carry the case out to the van that would take them to the Paris airport.
"Are you all right?" he asked sincerely as the two of them walked out to the sidewalk, the petite brunette trailing closely behind the well-dressed Point Man, who gracefully manoeuvred the two large suitcases through the busy Sydney airport.
"Mm-hmm; just a little jet-lagged, I guess," she replied, smiling faintly at him as she caught sight of Dom, who was watching solemnly as a valet loaded his suitcase into the trunk of one of Saito's hired cars. The rest of them – the "newly-wed couple," the struggling businessman (Eames), and the man hoping for a clean start (Yusuf) – were to call on cabs, and Saito was going to reimburse them with the rest of their salary once the Inception was complete.
"At least you can nap when we get to the hotel," he said, letting go of the dark blue "his" suitcase's handle to wave down a taxi. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at the idea; they both knew that they'd have a ten-minute break before they were to report to Cobb's hotel room for a quick briefing – if they were lucky, it would be at least ten minutes before the briefing.
"Right," she murmured as he shut the taxi's trunk and looked at her quizzically. "What? What's wrong?" she asked intently, blinking blankly as he smirked, shaking his head as he approached her.
"I was hoping you wouldn't need me to still open the doors for you, darling," he said jokingly, placing an arm around her waist. The Architect looked at him, confusion written all over her face.
"What are you talking about, Arthur?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he squeezed her, causing her to jump and squeak.
"Ariadne, love," he started, looking at her curiously, "we're supposed to be heading to the hotel; that's where the cab is taking us, remember?" he asked and her lips parted involuntarily as a soft "oh" escaped her lips.
"Jet lag isn't kind to me, I guess," she said sheepishly, blushing as he took his laptop case and messenger bag away from her.
"No, I suppose not, but that's all right," he said, opening the door and sticking the bags on the floor of the seat. "Quick, give me a kiss," the Point Man said simply and she subconsciously leaned in and placed a light peck on his lips before he ushered her into the cab, his hand on the small of her back.
The brunette's eyes widened as she realized what had just happened. Before she could say anything, the Point Man had gotten her to scoot down the seat a little bit so he could sit next to her, slipping his hand into hers as she slid her hand into her pocket and rubbed at her totem. He shut the door to the cab and gave the cab driver the address to the hotel.
"You're not regretting taking this trip are you, Ariadne? The jet lag isn't getting to you too much?" he asked sincerely, turning slightly in his seat to raise an eyebrow at her.
She looked up at him and, glancing down at their intertwined hands, letting go of the chess piece that had already told her that yes, she wasn't dreaming, shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine," she said, not looking up and attempting to keep the pink down from her cheeks, and he nodded slowly, pulling his hand out of hers and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "The trip was fine...it was worth a shot," she murmured as he shifted in his seat and got comfortable, leaning against her.
"That's good," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. She smiled, dreading the end of the cab ride, the end of the job, the end of their playing pretend.
If he continued to drive her crazy like this, she felt like it would be all right for the job to feel like it went on for ten years.
A/N: Yes, I was cliché and used the lines from the movie :3 I'm thinking of writing a second chapter, of around the "quick, give me a kiss" scene during the job, but I'm not totally sure yet. Thanks for reading! :D Hopefully you guys enjoyed it.
- Kalie