A/N: I have written one fanfiction for Inception so far. This fanfiction is not related to my other in any way. This idea for another fanfiction came to me a few days ago and I just had to write it down. This is severely AU, and it takes place after the end of the film. Dream sequences are in italics.
Disclaimer: I do not own the film Inception or its characters in any way, shape or form. I own only my idea for this plot and the arrangement of the words upon this page.
Ariadne was rather unused to the idea of dreaming.
Prior to her involvement with Dom Cobb and the rest of the whole act of inception, she had rarely dreamed.
Her dreams had been pleasant, though as few as they were. She often dreamed of fields, and her dream-self would run through the flowers, their velvety petals brushing up against her ankles. She would move on swift feet to a barn, the only human-built structure for miles. Inside the barn, she would find…
She would always wake up then, right before she could learn the secrets of the interior of the barn. They would continuously be hidden from her by the light of the morning, streaming in from her open windows.
When she was younger, she would purposefully try to fall back asleep. Ariadne had always hoped to finally, at long last, glimpse the inside of the barn. Of course, she could never return to the exact same state of slumber twice in one night.
She later learned that it was nearly impossible to ever return to the exact same dream twice. It was rather difficult to create the same situations and structures more than once.
Now, she did not dare try to return to her dreams of the barn. After completing the job, the inception upon Robert Fischer Jr., she rarely even slept. Sleeping without purpose seemed rather meaningless to her now. She somehow kept herself going, kept herself awake. She quickly learned that coffee was a valuable asset, even if it was artificial energy. Sleeping just did not seem to come naturally to her anymore. She needed the suitcase, needed the needle in her arm.
Without a job in the field of dreams, dreaming at all did not seem worthwhile any more. Whenever she did fall asleep, her slumber was spent dreamless. Ariadne always woke up the next morning, watching the sunlight stream in through the windows of her bedroom in her Parisian flat.
Now, she stood in her bedroom, watching the sun set down the darkening sky. She knew that she would soon resign herself to lying upon her bed, wishing and yet denying sleep. By midnight, she would get up from her bed, provided she had not by some grace and curse fallen asleep at long last. Ariadne would go into her little kitchen and lean against the counter, disappointed in herself and in what she had become. She had quickly realized that she was no better than the addicts, without homes and families, who lined the streets in the worst parts of every major city in the world. She despised herself for this, yet she did not try to change.
Ariadne did have one happy spot in her life, however. It was him.
Arthur.
They had worked closely together on the job. He, the point man, had done as much research as he could. She, the architect, had created a world for their mark, Robert Fischer Jr., to believe in. She had depended upon his findings to complete her tasks. As such, the two had had to work very closely together.
Inside the world of the dream, Arthur and Ariadne had still stuck together. They traversed the hotel side-by-side, finding a bench to sit upon.
And then, the projections had begun staring.
Arthur was used to this, and he kept his worries and fears in check. His face showed nothing.
Ariadne, though, had never quite had experience in this, at least to this degree. She felt an intense need to distract the projections from their unashamed gazes. She turned to him, pleading.
And he kissed her.
And the projections kept staring.
What a first kiss that could have been, Ariadne later thought, if only it was anywhere but on a job.
Luckily, Arthur seemed to realize the same thing she had. After the end of the job, they had walked together to get their suitcases. No words were spent between them for a while, each of them trying to locate their belongings.
Finally, Arthur spoke. "Well, now that that's all over and done with…"
Ariadne let out a laugh. "Is it ever truly over?" She grinned at him, pulling her suitcase behind her as they walked out of the airport and to the Métro stop. Paris, though not her home, felt like it should have been. She was instantly comfortable in Paris.
He gave her a glance. "Well, with Cobb retiring, I doubt I will find much work in this field anymore. Or, at least any work I want to do. Cobb, as you know, was one of, if not the, best in this line of work. I'm not sure if I could work for anyone else. However, you have a degree to finish."
"Yeah," Ariadne said with a sigh. "Though, it's going to be hard now. Dream-building is a lot different than building in reality. I can't make Penrose steps now."
Arthur nodded in agreement. "Right." He moved forward when the bus approached. "Coming?"
"Where are we going?" she asked. She had intended upon going back to her flat in the student quarter, but if he had something else planned, she doubted that she would refuse his invitation.
"My place." He got on the bus, Ariadne following. Once they had shown their cards and gotten seated, he turned to her.
"We can leave our bags there, and then…if you like…we could go to dinner(1) together." He glanced at his watch, noting the time. "It's almost noon, anyway. Nothing will close until two, so…if you like…"
She smiled at him. "Of course."
After dinner, she had returned to her flat with her bags, a smile upon her face. They had kissed, a kiss that was what a true first kiss should be like. She felt happiness and elation, the feelings of a first true love.
And she finally dreamed again.
She ran through the flowering fields. She was wearing a light yellow sundress that came to right above her knees. Her hair was flowing over her shoulders. She was smiling; she was happy.
Up ahead of her she could see a barn, painted a deep maroon. The doors were wide open this time, as if they were waiting for her.
She slowed down to a walk, and she moved through the wide wooden doors. She hesitated in the doorway before walking further in.
There were no animals in this barn.
She walked forward, hesitating a little. This was an unfamiliar place to her.
In front of her was a sight that quite surprised her. In front of her was a beach, caught in the light of the moon.
The water lapped at the edge of the sand, washing away the little tan-colored particles.
A woman was standing by the water. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, and went down to her shoulders. She was pale and somewhat tall. She was wearing a red blouse and a black knee-length skirt; she was not wearing any shoes.
She was turned away from her, but quickly turned to face her.
She was Mal. She was Mal, Cobb's deceased wife. She was Mal.
Ariadne gasped in surprise and walked closer to her, eyes questioning.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I am here, in your dream," Mal said, her voice clear and firm.
Ariadne stared at her, and could only nod in her shock.
"You are dreaming, though I am surprised that you have not yet brought out your totem."
Ariadne moved her hand to search for it, but she quickly found that her sundress had no pockets.
"Ah, so you left it," Mal murmured. "Trusting, aren't you? So, then, how do you know what this really is?" She paused, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't."
"I…why…why are you here?" Ariadne gasped out. Mal was dead, wasn't she? She had finally left Cobb's dreams. So why…why was she in Ariadne's?
"To warn you."
"Warn me?" Ariadne asked in surprise. She had thought Mal was the type to simply attack, not warn.
"Yes."
"Um…about what?" Ariadne questioned. She moved closer to Mal, intrigued.
"Don't trust the one who saves you."
"What?" Ariadne looked curiously at Mal.
"Don't trust him. Your point man, your Arthur," Mal clarified, drawing a hand across herself to rest upon her opposite arm. "Don't trust the one who saves you."
"Why not?" Ariadne could only ask, any other words failing her.
"Do not get too close to him, for he might betray you. Love can take many forms. Be wary of that."
Wary of that? Of love's many forms? "Why…why are you….why are you warning me?"
"Because I do not want you to live the life I lived. You must appreciate what you have when you have it. I did not. I always wanted…more." Mal tilted her head down to look at the ever-disappearing sand. "You must not do that. You must appreciate what you have when you have it."
Ariadne nodded. "I…think I understand. But…why warn me about…Arthur?"
"He and Dominic were very similar. I was once friends with him. He may seem one way on the exterior, but be careful about the interior. Tread lightly, for anger, like love, takes many forms."
Mal leaned down to scoop up some sand, and then watched it fall from her hand slowly. "Time can also take many forms. Time, as you know, is different in dreams. So is love. So is anger. Everything is different. Stay…away from dreams."
"Just because they're different?"
"No. But because you have it how you like it in reality. Things will change in a dream. Keep what you have. Appreciate what you have." The last few grains of sand hit the ground. "Until it all goes away."
Mal turned back away from her as the sun rose over the horizon of the ocean.
Ariadne jerked awake, the sunlight streaming in through her window. It was the next morning; she had slept the rest of yesterday away, plus the night.
Mal's words still rang in her ears, the words of warning burning through her brain. What was she to do now?
She could not face Arthur, not after what Mal had told her. Not now. Possibly later, but certainly not now.
Don't trust the one who saves you.
She supposed Arthur had saved her, saved her from going straight to her flat after the flight home to Paris. He had given her a wonderful date; he had given her a kiss.
And yet, she knew next to nothing about him.
She supposed she really couldn't trust him, then. But she would give him a chance.
Deciding against her earlier decision, she rose from her bed and got dressed. She would not have fear.
Ariadne had dreamt a real dream for once. She found out the secrets of the interior of the barn.
Innocence can be bliss. But truth, truth can be bliss as well.
(1)By "dinner", I mean what Americans refer to usually as lunch. Just to clear up any confusion.