It was three o'clock in the morning when the phone started trilling like some modern-day rooster in the Cobb residence. Groaning and blindly reaching for the phone, Dom missed the first two times, the phone's incessant voice piercing his ear in the dense pre-dawn dark.
"M'kay, m'kay!" he growled into his pillow, finally snatching the phone as he rolled completely over. "Whu?" he murmured as he rubbed his eyes.
"Dom? Dom, is that you?" The worried female voice that spilled over the phone woke him up markedly faster than anything else would. Finally opening his eyes, Dom pushed himself up to sitting.
"Ariadne, what are you doing-"
"Dom, it's Arthur." The muscles along his back tightened like cords. He'd been out of the game for two months, and loving it. But he still missed the order and steady demeanor of the man who had been his only friend in a time when Dom's own mind tried to kill Arthur in dreams. Swinging his legs over to the side of the bed, he scrubbed his hand over his face before running his fingers through his hair, trying to get his mind in order.
"What happened?" he asked quietly, fighting to remain calm to balance the fear lacing Ariadne's voice.
"I guess Arthur agreed to a small job. Just repaying a favor, he said the day before. He shrugged off any help, assuring me that it wouldn't be difficult. Just a memory recall for some guy named Kenneth Roads."
"So you're in London," Dom murmured. He remembered Kenneth Roads. He had sensed that Kenneth had wanted help with a memory recall, and would have normally been confident that Arthur could have handled it easily. Now, though, he wasn't so certain.
"Yeah," Ariadne said, her voice a little puzzled before continuing. "Anyway, he and the client went under. Three minutes later, the client woke up. But Arthur didn't." Cobb stiffened.
"The PASIV-?"
"Out. 12 hours ago." Cobb blinked. He was almost afraid to ask.
"Please tell me he's only one layer down."
"I don't know." She sounded like she was admitting murder.
"How can you not know?" Cobb blurted out, rubbing his brow as he tried to puzzle out what had happened to his former Point Man.
"I tried going into the dream with him, but it was… it wasn't like normal. I couldn't find him. It was a maze, with the features Arthur favors. But it wasn't just one place. There were about five different locations. I don't understand how you can have multiple locations in a dream like that. I looked for 6 hours in dream time. That's all the more time that was left on the PASIV. I… I'm not sure whether or not I should hook him back up."
"Not yet," Dom immediately commanded, imagining Ariadne reaching for the slim silver briefcase. He already had a plan formulating in his mind. He had a feeling as to what had happened to Arthur, but he wasn't going to make any decisions until he had reinforcements. "I'm going to call in a favor with an old contact in London, get you some medical supplies. Get Arthur hooked up to an IV so we're not battling his body along with his mind. I'll be flying out to London as soon as I can. We'll be making a quick trip to Marseille."
"Marseille?" Cobb smiled faintly at Ariadne's tone. She seemed rather reluctant to leave Arthur. "Why?"
"If I'm right, we're going to need help. A certain breed of it that you haven't seen before. And the best place to find it is in Marseille. Are you staying at Arthur's old flat?"
"Yes, the one on Harper Street."
"Ariadne?" Cobb murmured, hurting for her as the fear twined around her words, breaking her voice like dry branches. "Talk to him. If I'm right, he's very, very lost. We can help him find his way back home." With that, he hung up the phone, straightening to head to his closet. It looked like he was going to be heading out on the first flight to London in a few hours. Even after the time with his children, it burned to leave them. But Arthur had always been loyal to him; his loyalty in turn was the least his old friend deserved.
Cobb's brief perusal of Arthur during his time in London strengthened his hypothesis as to what had happened. The problem was, he had no idea what had caused it, nor whether or not the only person who could help Arthur would agree to it. As the cabbie swung through the crowded, old streets of Marseille, Dom tried not to notice how Ariadne's fingers twisted and curled, the nervous habit very much unlike her.
He briefly thought about stopping her, but there was nothing to be said that could bring any level of comfort, and staving off this outlet would only force her fear to manifest in another manner. So for now, Cobb left the petite woman to her own thoughts, her dark eyes intently focused on the world outside the rain beaded windows, her dense brown hair gathered in a merciless ponytail that wasn't usually her style. Cobb mirrored her intent gaze for lack of anything better to do, and so was spooked when she spoke.
"Cobb, who exactly are we going to see?" Her voice was slightly quieter than usual, but Dom didn't think that it was out of the ordinary, considering the circumstances. The leashed fear and strain, however, was out of the norm for her. He smiled a little, vividly remembering the last time he had encountered Félicie Miles.
"An old acquaintance of mine. Although I'm not sure how excited she'll be to see me. That last time we chatted she tried to rip my face off with her bare hands. Of course, after that, she tried to shoot me." Ariadne's lifted brow made him chuckle, a little darkly. "People do crazy things in the midst of grief. You can't really blame them for whatever happens in the grips of it."
The taxi rolled to a stop outside an old brick building, laced generously with black iron railing. Dom and Ariadne exited the vehicle into the soft misting rain, the water garnishing the metal like dew on leaves. He bypassed the brass chain to pull for the bell, pushing his way into the foyer with a sense of ease that threw Ariadne off. She tugged back her hood while he ran fingers through his water-darkened hair, drops splashing on the oak-paneled floor as sharp heels clicked down stairs through the back of the building.
A slim woman, tall and leggy, emerged out of the soft lighting of the back, her dark brown curly hair tamed into a sleek chignon that couldn't quite control the strands that worked their way free to tickle her diamond-edged cheekbones. She stood stock straight in a black jacket piped with red and an ebony pencil skirt, her soft pearl blouse making her warm skin and large blue eyes glow. The patent black pumps that clicked across the beautiful wood floor were almost improbable ice picks. She was the picture of a beautiful French businesswoman, at least until her lush painted lips peeled back and a shriek resembling a jungle cat ripped out of her.
Dom must have been expecting the attack, since he skillfully deflected her carefully manicured claws, whipping her around to cage her in his arms. "Easy now, Lisie. Come on now, it's been a long time. Is that any way to say hello?"
"Damn straight, it's been a long time, you son of a bitch! You're fucking lucky I didn't get my hands on you right after it happened, because you'd be dead!" She squirmed and wriggled, but Ariadne doubted Dom could keep this viper in a hold if she really wanted out of it.
"Lisie, Lisie," Dom then growled, trying to keep her from biting his hands. "I need to talk to you about something."
"And I have no interest in listening," she countered, her velvet French accent ticking something in Ariadne's memory.
"It's about a job," Dom murmured, carefully releasing her and moving back as if she were a bomb, his hands up either in a sign of peace or at the ready to intercept any assault she threw his way. Or both. She stepped away from them with a whip of her head, smoothing the flyaways at her temple.
"What kind of job?" she murmured, appearing reluctantly interested as she looked at Dom, sizing up Ariadne out of the corner of her eye.
"Do you remember Arthur Callahan?" The mention of Arthur gave the woman pause. She blinked and recoiled ever so slightly, her expressions neutralizing just the slightest.
"Of course. Skinny Army boy that worked with you and Mal long ago. I hear he's grown into quite the extractor now. He's a rather handsome creature, they say, too. If you like the dark, aesthetic sort of man." She must have noticed how Ariadne stiffened at the appreciative tone in the stranger's voice. This Lisie smiled in response, her expression feline and very, very French. It faded, however, when she turned back to Dom. "What does Arthur have to do with this?"
Dom paced away, diving his hands into the pockets of his long black cloak still damp from the rain. His face had stilled, the expression one Ariadne remembered from the midst of their infamous Fisher inception scheme. "I think Arthur has done a dream fracture." The woman's face quickly became serious, her fine brows furrowing.
"Why on earth would he do such a thing?"
"I'm not sure," Dom admitted. "But it's been a day and a half since it happened, and even without the stability of the PASIV, he's still under." She frowned, cupping her elbow with one hand while the other massaged her temple.
"Merde," she cursed under breath. "I can see why you traveled all the way here to find me, especially considering you were said to be happily settled in Northern California."
"So, you'll do it, then?" Dom asked, very quietly. She sighed, reluctantly.
"Yes, I will. He's a sweet boy, and doesn't deserve to suffer the fate of a fracture left to spiral. And I'll be expecting impressive compensation for my work, Dom. Who's this, then?" she asked, glancing over at the thus far silent Ariadne.
"This is Ariadne Mavitch, the Architect for the Fisher inception." Félicie's brow lifted in surprise, her mouth softening slightly.
"That was good work. Damn good work. But how hard that job was? Nothing like trying to repair a dream fracture. I hope you can outdo yourself."
"Thank you," Ariadne managed after a moment before glancing back at Dom. "What exactly is a dream fracture?" He exchanged a look with Félicie before answering.
"We believe that's what happened; we can't be certain until we get into the dream with him." She merely raised her brow, waiting for Dom to actually answer her question. "It's rare, and some people don't even believe that they exist." Still, she held her silence, and Cobb cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Félicie muttered, tapping the toe of her fierce heel impatiently. "It's a psychotic break in the dream. Scientists are not certain what causes them, and it is thought to be unique to each person. But it breaks the dreamer's ability to cohesively view their world, so, in defense, the mind constructs another dreamscape to make up for the broken one. However, their mental stability is already compromised, so it leads to another break. I've heard the highest to be around seven breaks before it becomes too much of a strain and the dreamer slips into a coma."
"I've heard up to fifteen breaks." Félicie gestured towards Dom in acknowledgement to his quiet words, as the number clearly didn't surprise her.
"Is it more layers?" Ariadne asked, slightly confused and deeply concerned.
"Not really," Félicie answered. "It's like different houses on the same block. They're small, isolated existences close to one another, and on the same plain, with their own identities and features. Near, but completely separate."
"Is Arthur stuck wandering through them?" Dom and Félicie traded looks; Ariadne's stomach dropped past her knees to thud around her ankles.
"Parts of him. A symptom of the fracture is not just a breaking of the environment, but the dreamer itself."
"Breaking how?" Ariadne pressed, her dark eyes boring into Félicie's spooky blue ones.
"His consciousness has shattered; when we get down there, if indeed it is a dream fracture, we'll find versions of Arthur at different ages, different points of his life. Often the age of defining moments, painful experiences that scarred him. And Arthur has plenty of those." She looked again at Dom, and before Ariadne could ask her to clarify that last statement, Dom spoke.
"Can you be ready to leave now?" Félicie sighed, glancing around her lovely foyer, paneled in ivory and decorated with smoky gray.
"I lost a bet to Arthur a long time ago. I suppose I'll have paid my debt in full when we drag his sorry hide out of there in one piece." She said it grudgingly, but with a small, crooked smile.
"You are, quite literally, the best, Lisie." She accepted the warm kiss on her cheek with a sort of grace that seemed bizarrely at odds with the ferocity she had shown while trying to claw Cobb's eyes out just minutes ago.
With a whirl of clicking heels and clouds of soft Parisian perfume, Félicie had shoved her arms into a black trench coat and was all too quickly striding out into the rain that had thickened into something far more substantial during their discussion. Cobb moved to hail another taxi, but Félicie just rolled her eyes and spoke briefly into a tiny red cell phone. Almost instantly, a black fleet car swooped around the corner, stopping neatly in front of them.
"Done well for yourself, I see," Dom commented before they folded themselves into the car. Dom sat up front, directing the driver to the airport. Ariadne angled slightly toward the Frenchwoman reclining on the car seat like it was a throne.
"Dom said you were a different kind of dreamer. What does that mean exactly?" Félicie met Ariadne's eyes first before tipping her head more fully towards the other woman.
"I'm a Hunter, Ariadne. I can find anything lost or hidden with a dream, given enough time. My skills, however, proved to be too much of a draw for those in search of things not meant for them to find. That, and I missed the natural dream. That's why I haven't share dreamed in years. And that's why Dom came to find me. If the fragments of Arthur's mind are as lost as he fears they are, I'll be the only one who can find them." The fascination crept through the worry and distress and fear that roiled in Ariadne's gut like a poison. This woman was quite the character.
"What was the bet you lost to Arthur?" Ariadne asked, the smile that tickled the corners of her mouth feeling foreign and a little stiff after only a few days of bone-deep worry she was afraid would tear her apart. Félicie looked away, studying the French cityscape draped in the gray gauze of rain.
"That Dom would marry my sister."
I love Inception. I love Inception like a fat kid loves cake. I think it is one of the most skillfully crafted, acted, and constructed film of our time, and it didn't get nearly the accolades it deserved. Arthur is my absolute favorite character of the film, and the pairing of Arthur and Ariadne is freakin' adorable.
From my very first thought of a fanfic for those two, I knew it would be Arthur that needed to be saved this time. And the idea of a dream fracture is one that bloomed like a flower from that first imagining. I always felt like Arthur's discipline was a mask for intense pain, and I wanted an opportunity to explore that. I hope to chip at this, and maybe a few other stories, while working on my novel. A little restless phase has pushed me back to a couple of older works. If you like this story, keep a weather eye. It's not dead, but it takes a back seat to my novel.
Hope you like it!
Love, Tango