Author's Note: Before I start I'd like to say quickly that I hope that no one who is reading my other fanfiction finds this, because then it will become obvious that I have not died and therefore do not have a legitimate excuse for neglecting my updates. My apologies. This movie was simply too epic to resist writing something about it. On that note, I'd like to say that this piece is my inept homage to Inception, and that though I can't hope to touch the movie's superb quality, I felt compelled to share some of what it made me feel. Inception was a superb portrait of human emotion and courage...but words never really suffice, do they?

At any rate, I'll stop babbling now and let you read the story. It is my sincerest hope that you enjoy it.

Unwavering

He was always telling himself the things he knew-

She had mentioned that,

and it was true.

He knew he was certain he'd shot himself, knew he was almost certain he'd woken up. It should have been enough, all things considered.

But he also knew there were some parts of himself he'd never be able to change.

He'd been waiting all his life, it seemed, for this one desire to come to fruition; he had spent so much time drowning in guilt and regret that now when a sentiment akin to hope stirred within him it felt almost like-

-he was dreaming.

So when the top appeared in his hand, he knew he was fully prepared to wait it out. It was warm from his body heat, and felt familiarly heavy as it slipped from his palm to the polished wooden tabletop.

It didn't wobble when it landed. Just slipped into its rapid, rhythmic rotation, always so steady at the start.

"Daddy!"

Sudden. Enticing. Beautiful. His breath froze within him at the sound, which echoed like the eerie ring of broken champagne glasses. How long had he waited?

The top spun before his eyes, showing no outward signs of slowing, and a whisper in his mind reasoned that he should be concerned about that, but just as quickly as his life had seemed to slip out of focus, it leapt back in, and he forgot reason completely as he ran into the sun and the color where two gorgeous faces smiled up at him…

…forgotten on the table, the top might have wavered, might have

fallen.

But Cobb wouldn't return to check it that evening or the next;

in the moment he'd left it, whether he'd realized it or not,

he had known-

It didn't really matter.