A/N So I wrote this in about 20 minutes because I was bored and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Might carry it on if people want me to. Please review
Kat xx
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If you knew you were dreaming, what would you do?
Would you run?
Would you cry?
What if you couldn't wake yourself up?
If you didn't know it would work, would you take that risk?
Could you?
If, just before you ended it, a man stopped you, pulled you down from the bridge edge, the wind whipping your hair around your face, and said he could help you, would you listen? Could you trust him? It was just a dream so he couldn't hurt you, right?
So you decided to go with him.
Sometime while you were following the blonde-haired man through the crowded streets of what looked like a cross between Belfast and New York, you were joined by two other men. Both were wearing sharp suits and one had his black hair slicked back perfectly. You saw they both had guns and you were scared by it. Was it too late to run? But they kept you moving towards the bank.
When you got to the bank you stopped. But the men kept walking. One put their hand on the small of your back and guided you in. "I'm Eames," he whispered in your ear, "Please keep calm and keep walking." You nodded and started moving again.
Everyone was staring at you and you started to breathe heavier and became panicky. "Keep calm," Eames whispered again, "Just follow the others."
They had moved into the vault room and you trailed behind them.
"We don't have much time," the blonde-haired man said, "I need you to open the vault and read the papers," he turned away from you, "Eames, set the charges. Arthur, hold back the projections." The men went to do as they were told and you spun around and looked at the vault combination.
"I don't know the combination," you realised. "Just put in the first six numbers that come into your head," the blonde haired man said. You nodded and turned back to the vault and placed your hands on the keypad. It was cold and metallic. You entered the numbers 4, 0, 4,1,2,5. It clicked open and inside it were some papers.
The man nodded to you to read them. As you did you could not stop the sob that ran through your body. It was details on your parents' death. Where, how, when, which you knew. But it also included why and who. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the crime photos as you had seen them before and they were horrible. "Memorize it, remember it," the man urged you. "Why are you helping me?" You turned to face him before an explosion ripped through the building, tearing it apart.
You woke up in your apartment completely dumbfounded by the weirdest dream you ever had. But now you had evidence against the man who killed your parents in cold blood. The next thing to do was to gather it and take it to your superior, the woman who was in charge of the investigation.
As you bounded out of the door with new enthusiasm, your mind wandered back to the men who helped you and, in particular, Eames. You wondered if you were ever see them to thank them. They saved your life.