Full Summary: "Inception. Don't bother telling me it's impossible." "It's perfectly possible. Just bloody difficult. We tried it. Got the idea in place, but it didn't take." Eames tried inception once before but it failed. A team of Cobb, Arthur, Eames, his sister Alice and the second-in-command of Rourke Enterprises form an elaborate plan to incept his daughter Jemma with such an idea, the power granted to them would be unimaginable. But the inception goes wrong and only Eames knows why. What will be the cost for the Forger's feelings for the Mark? Eames/OC
A/N: This story was originally started with a friend, with split authoring. However, due to some commitments my friend had, she graciously let me continue writing this story on my own. I'm trying to edit some sections because it was fairly wordy before, but you probably won't see any of my own true writing until Chapter Six. The basis for the story is Eames' comment in the movie when he's talking to Cobb, and he says he's heard that Inception is possible, it's just bloody difficult, and there have been failed attempts before. Till then, I hope you enjoy!
Ian Eames walked into the brightly lit restaurant, looking for someone. The someone he was searching for proving to be elusive to even his sharp eyes. A waiter approached him but Eames quickly sent him off on a different path as he made a line to a man sitting at the bar.
"Cobb," he said and the man glanced up. His blue eyes widened in surprise at seeing Eames.
"Eames," Cobb replied, his voice low to match the hum of the restaurant. "What are you doing here?" There was strained friendliness in Cobb's voice and his posture tensed slightly as Eames slid into the seat opposite.
"That's no way to greet an old friend," Eames remarked, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "Especially one who's come to do you a favour." Cobb raised his eyebrows.
"What favours do you have to offer me?" he asked, his voice cautious and Eames chuckled.
"I hear you've been out of a job for a little while, mate," he said, signalling the same waiter he'd ignored earlier and ordering a drink. "And I'm here to help you get one." Cobb snorted, a disbelieving smile appearing on his face.
"Here's the thing Eames. I worked for the government. You work for yourself. Besides," he said, pausing and glancing around the room. "I don't work at all anymore. I'm retired." Eames held up a hand as the waiter brought a glass of whiskey back over. He picked it up, swirling it around in the glass as he smirked at Cobb.
"This is one job you better come out of retirement for," he said before leaning across the table slightly. "You ever heard of Rourke Enterprises?" Cobb's eyes flickered slightly in recognition.
"I might have. Big weapons manufacturer, isn't it?" Cobb asked lightly as Eames' smirk deepened.
"Don't play coy with me, Cobb, I know you far too well for that," Eames retorted. "They're more than big. They dominate the entire world. However, it's not political espionage we're required for here. It's personal." Cobb tilted his head slightly, interested. "It's not Rourke we're worried about. You see, he's been more than a little unstable since his son's tragic death. Apparently the only people he'll listen to now are his wife and only daughter. The company could destroy itself if its, uh, dedicated vice-CEO wasn't there to salvage it." Eames glanced around before reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a photograph of a man and a young woman. The man had his arm around the blonde haired girl, who was smiling. Cobb studied it without moving.
"That happens to be the vice-CEO, Christian Parker. And that there?" Eames tapped the small blonde woman beside him. "That's Jemma Rourke. The mark."
"What do you want us to do here, Eames?" Cobb's voice was slightly weary, like he'd resigned himself to doing the job. That was the problem with Eames; he could be a brilliant and charming businessman when he wanted to be.
"We need to incept the girl to stop her father's company from going under." Cobb's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright.
"That's impossible, Eames." Both of them knew in the dream worlds in which they specialised in, inception had never been tried. Extraction was removing an idea from a subject's mind and inception was the opposite; putting an idea in. However, it was more complicated than it sounds. The mind automatically rejects anything that is unnatural to it, and an incepted idea is the most unnatural thing of all.
"It wouldn't be with you, Cobb. You're the best, everyone knows it, including you. Can't you imagine it? The last job of Dominic Cobb, incepting an idea that would bring the largest weapons manufacturing company to power. And it pays the big bucks."
"Yeah, but who's paying?" Cobb muttered and Eames tapped the photo again, this time tapping the man, Christian Parker. Cobb frowned.
"What would he gain, what's his motive?"
"If Rourke Enterprises goes under, he loses everything. If we succeed... he gets everything. The company, the girl, the world," Eames said before meeting Cobb's eyes. "You can go back to Mal and live a happy, rich, life and you'll never hear from me again." There was a long pause before Cobb spoke.
"We'll need to assemble a team." Eames grinned, draining the last of the alcohol in his glass.
"Leave it to me."
"And one and two and plié and four." The calls from the head of the ballet company formed a rhythmic pattern in Ally Eames's mind as she bent her legs to the instructions.
She bent down to reach her toe, a toe that was covered in a satin ballet shoe, before gracefully lifting it and placing it on the metal barre. She glanced up briefly to see herself reflected in the mirror. Deep brown eyes framed by dark eyelashes stared back at her. Her normally wavy hair that fell to her waist was tied up in a dancer's bun as she continued to exercise. Her slender, willowy body was taunt and elegant as she danced. She began to move into the next exercise when an electronic techno beat filled the practice room, cutting across the classical music that was tinkling from a piano and causing several other ballerinas to look up.
"No cell phones in the practice room!" came a sharp voice but Ally ignored it, rushing over to her bag. She normally would have ignored it but she'd set this particular ring tone for a particular person. She delved into her bag until she found her phone, pulling it out and flipping it open.
"Ian!" she said by way of greeting. On the other end of the phone, her brother, Ian Eames, chuckled.
"Why so formal, Alice, dear," he replied sarcastically, using her full name as she had done to his.
Ally rolled her eyes as she stepped outside the room, leaning against the wall. Her hand went to her neck, playing with a small ballerina that hung on a silver chain. Ballerinas weren't supposed to wear any jewellery while dancing but as the prima ballerina of her company, Ally got away with a lot of things.
"How are you?" Ally asked, resigning herself to not being able to continue practicing until she'd had a conversation with Eames.
"Never mind that," Eames replied. "I have a job for you." Ally snorted, smiling slightly. Her brother never changed. She could hardly tell whether this was a good thing or not.
"In case you didn't realise, Ian, I actually have a job. I was working when you called," she informed him. He chuckled on the other end again.
"Oh, no, you'll like this one much better." His words sent a slight chill up Ally's spine as she tried to think of any other meaning to his words but the obvious. He gave her no more reply, forcing her to say something.
"There was a reason I left that world, Ian."
"And there's a reason you're going to want to come back, Al. Times are turning and we need the best in the world for this job."
"Look, I'm sure there are other people you can use," she said, her voice slightly strained. " And I'm not the best architect in the world!"
"You know you are, Ally, you told me yourself that you were once."
"Once, Ian, and you haven't even told me what this is about!" Ally snapped, glancing at the door, the faint sound of a piano trickling through.
"You're asking me so you must be interested. And... it's inception." Ally stiffened, not realising her grip on the phone had tightened.
"No. The answer is no, Ian. It was no then and it is no now. Do not ask me again," she said into the phone before flipping it shut without a chance for Eames to say anything more.
"Jem! You've got to hurry up!" Christian Parker called through the large apartment he shared with his girlfriend.
When there was no response, only the sound of water running in the shower, he sighed and sat back down on the couch. The two were supposed to be going on a lunch date, but a few hours prior, Jemma's father had called and asked if the two could stop by his office first. Of course, Christian had agreed-because he can't, and wouldn't, tell his boss no-and now here he was, waiting for Jemma to finish getting ready so they could leave. Which, at the current moment, seemed like it would never happen.
About ten minutes later, Jemma had stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body before making her way into the bedroom she shared with Christian. She quickly got dressed after glancing at the clock and realized it was later than she had initially thought. She gazed at herself in the mirror, giving herself a once over to make sure she was really ready to leave.
Today, she was wearing a charcoal coloured pencil skirt that stopped about mid-thigh and showed off her legs. The skirt had a crisscrossing pattern over it, like strips of material had been cut then sewn on one over the other. There was a black, elastic material as the waistband, giving it a high-waisted appearance. Her top was a snowy white colour that stopped mid-torso, but because of the high waisted skirt, it didn't show very much skin. On the back, there was a large, teardrop shape cut out. She grabbed a dark red blazer from out of the closet to give the outfit a more professional look for when they met with her father. Her dark red ankle boots (the same colour as the jacket) completed her look.
Jemma had certain standards to reach as the daughter of the owner of a multi-billion dollar company. Professional yet casual was how she normally dressed; a happy medium between what her mother wanted and how she would have preferred.
"Chris, I'm ready!" Jemma called as she stepped out of the bedroom and into the living room.
"Finally," Christian said, a teasing glint in his eyes as he stood. "You take forever."
"Sorry we can't all be ready in five minutes like you," Jemma playfully shot back at him as they exited the suite and made their way down into the lobby of the hotel they lived at.
They walked out into the front of hotel and the valet service brought up Christian's car, which had been a gift from Jemma's father. After tipping the man, Christian and Jemma got into the dark silver BMW M5 and drove off. The drive there was rather quiet, but the two were content in the silence, having known each other for a few years. As they neared the large skyscraper in New York where Jemma's father worked, Christian turned to her.
"Do you know what he wants to talk about?" He asked her. Jemma shook her head.
"No. He didn't say," Jemma told him as they turned down the busy street that led to Rourke Enterprises. Christian grew silent and frowned. It wasn't often William called Christian in on his days off.
Christian pulled the car up to the front of the large building before getting out and walking around to the passenger side to open the car door for Jemma. Once they were both out, another young man got into the car and drove off to park it. Christian, once again, tipped the valet service before leading the way inside Rourke Enterprises.
An elevator took them up to the floor where William Rourke's office was, and the two stepped onto the floor out of the elevator before making their way down the hall to the door. Jemma paused at the door when two voices greeted her through the closed wood, only one she recognized, and that belonged to her father; the other one was foreign to her. She knocked once and upon hearing a 'come in' pushed the door open. She turned to her left and smiled at her father sitting behind his desk.
The other voice she had had heard must've belonged to the other man occupying the chair that sat across from her father, his back to the door. He turned around to glance at her, and she realized he was someone she hadn't seen before. She brushed the thought aside as her father stepped out from behind his desk and gave her a hug. After shaking hands with Christian he returned to his chair and gestured to the man.
"Jemma, this is Jacob Roth," He said, introducing the two. "Jacob, this is my daughter, Jemma."
Jemma nodded her head politely at the man, wondering why her father was introducing the two of them. She smiled as well, to not be rude-like she had always been taught. The man returned the smile before speaking.
"Pleasure to meet you," He said, and Jemma noticed he had a British accent. "And this is...?" He trailed off glancing at Christian.
"Oh. I'm sorry. Jacob, this is Christian." William shook his head at his slip-up and Jacob extended his hand to Christian. As Christian shook it, there was something off about his actions, almost robotic. It struck Jemma as odd, but she couldn't quite place why.
The man, or Jacob as he had been introduced, had bright blue eyes and dark blonde hair, almost brown, that was slicked off to the side in a very business-like haircut. Even though he was sitting down, Jemma could tell he was well-built. His white, long-sleeved shirt hugged his arms tightly which was accompanied by a white and black diagonally striped tie.
"You wanted to speak with me?" Jemma asked, being ever so polite. Her father nodded his head as he leaned forward against his desk.
"Yes. I believe it will be in your best interest if you had personal security," Her father started and watched as Jemma's eyes widened before she shook her head.
"No. Dad, I'm fine without someone," She protested, but her father held up his hand to her and she pursed her lips together.
"I've already arranged for it," He stated. "Jacob, will be your bodyguard," He added with a motion to the man. "And I'd appreciate it if he started today."
Jemma opened her mouth to protest further, but closed it upon realizing her efforts would be futile. She knew her father was only do what he thought was best and he was only trying to protect her. He wanted her safe... especially after her brother... She sighed as her thoughts trailed off. She couldn't be angry with her father for simply wanting to protect her.
"Yes, father," She said.
"Thank you," He said, relieved she hadn't argued. "After your lunch with Christian, I would like you to come back here for Jacob. That will give me and him enough time to talk."
Eames watched as the blonde woman nodded her head once more to her father. She exited the room without another word, but not before glancing back at him, her dislike of this arrangement clear in her crystal blue eyes. He couldn't help but smirk at that. Christian followed after Jemma, he to also giving the new bodyguard one last look. Though his wasn't in annoyance, it was more confused and shocked.
He was the whole reason Eames was even sitting in this office talking with William Rourke. Though Eames hadn't informed Christian of his coming, he had hoped the man could've played off them knowing each other a little better. William Rourke hadn't suspected anything out of the ordinary, but his blonde daughter seemed sharp, sharper than most people probably gave her credit for. And Eames had noticed the narrowed eyes she gave the two men when they had shook hands, Christian's body stance having gone tense after the introductions.
He pushed the thoughts aside as he continued to speak with the man who held the key to his future. If Eames could pull off this job, he would be a very powerful man, in the dream realms and in reality.
"I've arranged for Christian to fly to London tomorrow to consult with some business partners of mine," William Rourke told Eames. Eames lifted his eyebrow a fraction. He'd only managed to inform Christian of where they needed to be three days ago. For all his faults, he managed to get things done.
William set his lips in a tight line, as if he was unhappy about what he was about to say. "Christian has managed to convince me to let Jemma accompany him and begin to learn some of the finer points of the business. You, in turn, will accompany her as her private body guard." Eames nodded respectfully.
"Will that be all sir?" he asked. The weapons mogul nodded, dismissing him.
Eames stood and walked out of the room before pulling out his cellphone. He scanned down his list of contacts, hovering over Ally's name before flipping to Cobb's. He'd see her soon enough anyway. The phone began to ring before crackling as it picked up.
"Hello?" The voice was faint, like the receiver had very little reception.
"Cobb, it's Eames. Have you found a Point Man yet?" Eames asked, using the technical term for a specific role in the dream world. Once an architect has designed a dream, the Point Man essentially screwed it together and made it stable. There was a slight chuckle on the other end.
"His names Arthur, Arthur Meads. I worked with him once upon a time and this is definitely the guy we need. He's like a machine, so he'll be able to counteract any architect you throw at him and stabilise the dream. He's one of our best chances of making this work. He was near impossible to track down, though, so you owe me," Cobb replied.
Eames rolled his eyes, glancing around. He saw the girl he was supposed to be guarding, Jemma, approaching him. She still had to go through two sets of glass doors but he couldn't risk her overhearing him.
"Couldn't have been anymore bloody difficult than tracking you down, mate," Eames said hurriedly. "I'm picking up the architect tomorrow. We meet in New York City." Eames immediately flipped the phone shut, assuming a professional air as Jemma reached him.
"My father employed you as my personal security. Am I correct?" she began. Eames nodded.
"You are most correct, Miss Rourke," he said, hiding a smirk. She raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.
"So why aren't you doing your job, Mr. Roth?" she asked, an icy tone entering her voice as she studied him. Eames opted not to reply but stepped in front of her to open a door.
"Please, let me escort you to the car, Miss Rourke," he said in a falsetto, exaggerated voice. He was guaranteed the job no matter what, and if he couldn't have a little fun with the stuck up bitches in the world anymore, then life clearly wasn't fun anymore.
She didn't even look at him as she breezed through the glass doors. Eames followed slightly behind her, smirking as he managed to get a good view of her ass as she walked down the marble steps leading from her father's building. She didn't speak a word as she slid into the back seat of the car and Eames slid in beside her. Two can play this game. The car quickly took them from the business district of the city to the high class suburban area. It was an expensive make, to match everything else high quality in this woman's life. The hotel that Jemma had left quickly that morning came into view.
"Nice place," Eames commented as he slid back out of the car. Jemma rolled her eyes as she unlocked the front door. "Shouldn't you be telling me anything special I need to know about you, so I can guard you to the max?" Eames quipped, his lip curling at the word 'special.'
"Shouldn't you already know?" Jemma replied, her voice still icy. Eames grinned as they walked into the foyer of her apartment.
"Chris! I'm home!" she called out as she made her way up the stairs. Christian glanced down from the mezzanine and smiled at her, before he saw Eames. His face tightened once again and Jemma picked up on it instantly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing," Christian said as he began to descend down the stairs. "I'll talk to you in a second, I just want to sort something out with your new security first." Jemma tilted her head slightly, her narrowed eyes surveying the two men before continuing to make her way up the stairs.
"You know, you do need to relax around me a bit," Eames said, smirking as he leant against a wall, his arms folded nonchalantly. Christian glared at him.
"I don't think you quite understand what I'm paying you for, Mr Eames," he said, his voice low. "If this goes wrong, then we are all dead. That gives me more than a little right to be uncomfortable." Eames didn't reply, simply staring the other man down.
"Just remember who hired whom," Christian finally said, his voice edging into a threatening tone as Jemma walked back down the stairs.
Jemma awoke early the next day before her flight, simply lying in bed beside Christian. Her 'security', Jacob Roth, was in one of the guest bedrooms downstairs. She sat up slowly and slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Christian. She grabbed one of his dress shirts from out of the closet and watched as he rolled over onto his stomach in his sleep. She smiled softly at his sleeping form before making her way downstairs and into the kitchen before starting a pot of coffee.
She grabbed a small banana nut muffin from out of the bread box before hopping up onto the counter, like she used to when she was little. She peeled away the paper and broke off a small piece before eating it.
She had never been particularly fond of the flavor banana nut until after her brother had passed away. But when Gabriel died, she found herself liking it, as a way to remember him. And she'd always eaten banana nut from that point on.
She finished up the muffin before tossing the paper at the trashcan that was against the wall by the open doorway. She missed, of course, and heard chuckling. When she glanced up, Jacob Roth was leaning against the doorway.
"You should join the NBA with that shot," He commented and she rolled her eyes at him.
She hopped off the counter and crossed the room before bending over and picking up the discarded trash before letting it fall into the wastebasket. She ignored his comment as she moved away from him to stand in front of the coffee pot. She pulled down a mug from the cupboard before setting it down on the black marble. Her hand rested on the curved metal handle of the cupboard, hesitating from closing it, like she was debating something.
She turned towards Jacob. "You want some coffee?"
He raised an eyebrow in return before nodding his head. He watched as she pulled down another mug and set it beside the first before pouring the black liquid into each. She handed him one of the mugs before pulling down creamer and sugar and proceeded to add both to her drink before stirring it with a spoon. She hopped back up on the counter and he chuckled at that. She glanced at him over the top of her mug as she took a sip.
"Where's the Ice Queen from yesterday?" Jacob asked and Jemma rolled her eyes at him as she took another sip of her coffee.
"I'm sleepy. Give me about half an hour and she'll be back," She retorted snarkily, and a smirk crossed Jacob's face.
"There she is," He quipped as he took a sip of his coffee causing the sapphire eyes of hers to roll once again.
"You're rather annoying, you know that?" She asked him as she finished the last of her coffee before placing it in the sink beside her. As she leaned to the side, Christian's dress shirt she was wearing rode up showing off her toned legs.
Eames watched the woman in front of him, his eyes drifting down to the skin revealed-as would every straight male. The shirt was buttoned just enough to not look indecent, and as he watched her, he noticed she wore the shirt all too well. At the moment, she seemed like one of those Victoria Secret campaigns. His mind started to wander, but was quickly brought back at the sound of Christian's voice.
He sauntered into the kitchen. "You're up early."
Jemma tilted her face slightly to allow him to kiss it. "I sure am. I made some coffee. There's some if you want it."
"Coffee. Just what I needed." He returned the smile she gave him as he grabbed the jug of black liquid.
Eames leaned against the wall again, his cup empty and resting on the counter. He noticed Christian was still tense and acting awkward around him. If he didn't start loosening up, his girl was going to figure something out. He watched as the man who hired him glanced down at Jemma and noticed what she was wearing. Almost like sensing Eames' earlier thoughts, Christian moved to block Eames view of the girl, and a small smirk appeared on his lips at that. Eames glanced away as their lips met before clearing his throat loudly. Jemma glared around the side of her boyfriend, sliding off the counter.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice well and truly returned to the tone from yesterday. Eames smirked and shrugged in reply.
"Probably not in the way you're thinking of," he told her with a cheeky wink, completely cheerful despite the fact her boyfriend was standing right beside her. Christian tensed, a vein in the side of his neck pulsing as Jemma made a sound of disgust. She turned and began to walk out of the kitchen.
"I'm going to get ready. We need to leave for the airport in half an hour, our flight's at 12:00 PM."
Christian grinned at her, moving away from Eames and relaxing slightly. "Is it even possible for you to get ready in half an hour?" Christian questioned as they walked up the stairs.