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Eames turned back to Devona. "Nice touch, the locks. But they'll find a way in. Everyone we come across will be after you now."

"How in the hell did Kips get here?"

The Englishman gave Devona a dry look. "I told you creating from memory was bad. Things slip through."

"But he was such a nice dog-"

"He's part of the subconscious at the moment. And right now, the whole subconscious is very, very nasty." As if to prove his point, a loud thump rattled the door. "Next part of the plan?"

"I don't…" Devona glanced around helplessly, disappointing herself as she realized how bare the room was. They'd just needed somewhere to hide.

"Darling, we haven't got forever, and these things can get creative if the need presents itself." Another loud thump.

Devona reluctantly understood. Creativity. Eames was looking for creativity. She thought for a moment, biting her lip, doing her best to stave off any growing panic, reminding herself it was, quite literally, all in her head. Or Eames' head. Whatever. Creativity…escape…protection…projections…dog…angry dog… "Okay. Back to the hall."

"Are you sure?" Eames raised his brows.

"Not directly to the hall, but that's where the elevator is, right? So we have to get back to the hall."

"Right. Except there's at least ten very angry projections and one even angrier dog out there."

Devona just nodded. "Follow me." The man did so without complaint, letting her take the lead and following her into the adjoining bathroom. She knelt beside the sink, pulling a panel from the wall. Behind it was a dark hole. Whether or not it went anywhere was impossible to tell.

"It'd be quite helpful if we could see something."

"If we can see something, so can any projections that arrive. And if I built it, I know where it goes. Right?"

Eames paused, and then rewarded the trainee with a charming smile. "Very good."

She smiled back, flattered, and quickly ducked into the hole to hide her flushing face. She heard the man following, and tentatively led herself through the small tunnel, until her hands found a wall. A swift kick opened that panel as well, depositing the dreamers into a small, dimly-lit closet.

As they both stood to full height again, Devona noticed nervously how cramped the space was, to the point where she had to flatten herself against the wall not to brush up against the older man. It made breathing difficult, not to mention any straight thinking.

"We should be able to open that door," Devona inclined her head towards the wooden door to her left, "and be right beside the elevator."

"And that charming dog of yours?"

"I'll take care of it."

Eames nodded, trusting her to follow through on her word, and he studied the door. "Whenever you're ready."

Devona stared at the door for a moment, taking a breath, and then turned the handle.

Kips stood not ten feet away, hackles raised and teeth bared exactly as before. Devona was unnerved by how precise the projection of the dog was, even down to the scars on his left shoulder from a dog fight when he was younger. Swallowing nervously, Devona tried to talk to the canine.

"Hey Kipsie, hey boy…easy now, be a good dog-" she dared take a step forward and the dog did likewise, snarling even more viciously. "Kips, no, be a good dog.." Another step from Devona, and the dog burst forward, barking savagely.

Devona barely registered her own surprise before being yanked back into the closet by her arm. Eames had a hold of her, his back against the door that he rapidly shut, and he looked, of all things, tired.

"That was your plan? To talk to the damn thing? It's a projection, Devona, it's not going to listen to you. You are it's enemy. Same goes for any projections of people you know – if you piss off the subconscience, they will come after you without a second thought. Okay?" She nodded, not looking at him, ashamed. "Let's try this again."

He opened the door once more, and abruptly shoved her a few steps into the hall.

"Eames-!" Kips was already barking and stalking forward, yellowing teeth flashing and ready to tear into Devona's leg. She knew what Eames wanted – quick thinking – but panic was fast approaching. As happened before when panic gained control, she let her imagination throw whatever came first at her attacker. In this case, it was a cat.

A large, plump, grey tabby cat, which hissed and spat at Kips before prancing towards an open door further back in the hallway, it's tail raised like a flag. A projection-cat was too much for the projection-dog to resist, and Kips barreled down the hall after the feline, just as he'd done when Devona was younger and the dog was actually alive.

Eames appeared beside her in the hall.

"Is that alright?" She asked, desperate for approval.

He nodded, but didn't say anything, and his expression was not reassuring.

Two sharp cracks split the air, and the rich wooden walls behind the two dreamers splintered in places the size of quarters. Both of their bodies flinched instinctively, the only thing that saved them as another few shots went off. Devona dropped to the ground, while Eames ducked into the doorway he had just come from. More shots splintered more wood, and Devona scrambled behind a small table, originally placed for decoration.

There was a pause in the shots, and footsteps could be heard coming down the hall, shouts exchanged. Devona carefully risked a glance over the top of her barrier, only to snap her head back down as a frenzy of shots, much louder and powerful than the previous ones, sounded. There were yelps and cries from down the hall, and Devona realized the shots had come from across the hall, not down it, where the projections were. She turned to Eames, to find him with his back against the wall, body still, some sort of large automatic assault rifle in his hands, and a grin on his handsome face. She watched, shocked and fascinated, as the man efficiently peeked the muzzle of the weapon around the corner, fired another spurt of bullets, and pulled back to his position. He saw her watching, and gestured for her to cross the hall and join him.

Hesitant as she was, Devona tried to remind herself it was just a dream, and carefully nodded back to him. He twisted again to send fire into the projections gathered in the hall, and give her cover. Devona winced as the shots sounded around her – both from Eames and the considerably less friendly projections – and dashed across the hall to join the man in the doorway.

"Alright darling," he muttered, tense and excited, "now to the elevator. I'll cover you as you run for it, then when you're in, you cover me while I join you. Can you do that?"

"Cover you? How?" Devona asked the question stupidly, knowing exactly what he wanted, but hoping he had a different plan.

"Use your imagination, sweetheart. But word from the wise – something with a trigger usually works best." He glanced around the corner again, and was abruptly forced back with an onslaught of gunfire. "Ready?"

"I-"

"Go."

This Englishman certainly was a man of action. He stepped into the hall, gun raised and firing rapidly, and Devona had only a second to breathe before she sprinted towards the elevator. Somehow, she'd forgotten she needed to press a button. Her hand pounded against the 'down' arrow, just as bullets pounded into the building around her.

"Devona!" Eames shouted over the roar of gunfire, "You might want to pull that trigger soon!"

But she didn't have a gun. With a deep breath, she reached a hand into her jacket. It emerged with a small, hand-held automatic, like she'd seen in police shows. Unsure, she raised it towards the few projections left, and fired a couple shots. They went wide, striking wall or ground, but had the desired effect of forcing the attackers to hide.

The elevator chimed, and she rushed in it, hearing Eames launch another round towards the projections. Then he turned and was running towards her, his back to the men with guns as he focused on getting the hell out of the hall. Devona still had her weapon raised, and as she saw one of the projections raise it's gun, she knew what was going to happen. She knew what she needed to do, but couldn't. Not when she saw the man's face like that, furious and frightening, but human. Normal. There was even dust and blood on him, giving him a stronger image of humanity. He pulled his trigger.

Eames stumbled and swore, one shoulder jerking forward upon impact. He fell to a knee, but bared and clenched his teeth as he fought to stand straight again. He turned and fired a couple more shots, but his left arm was bleeding and useless. He stumbled into the elevator with Devona breathlessly, his fist pounding into the button to close the doors. They both flinched as another handful of bullets struck the elevator car, sounding like crashing bells.

"What the hell happened?" The Englishman asked through clenched teeth, blue eyes hard and handsome features a blend of pain and anger.

Devona had never felt more ashamed, more mortified in her life. "I..I don't know. I just..froze."

"And I just got shot!" He snapped, grunting as he pressed a hand against the bleeding wound.

"I'm so sorry, Eames," Devona rushed, her entire being a cluster of overwhelming emotions. "I saw his face and I just froze, I couldn't..I couldn't kill him.."

"He was a projection, Devona."

"I know!" She snapped this time, having heard all of this before. "The same thing happened with Cobb. They're just so goddamned real in here!"

The man laughed then, but it was more mocking than comforting. "That would be the point, love."

Would that fuzzy feeling inside her ever stop?

She remained quiet for a moment, staring earnestly at the bleeding, heavily breathing man. She bit her lip, shame so strong she felt as though she could cry. But that wouldn't help anything. "I'm so sorry, Eames. I…I didn't know we could feel pain in the dream."

"No way to learn like the hard way, eh?" He chuckled, then grunted. "Yes, we can feel pain. But if you die, you just wake up. For instance, if I bleed out in the next fifty minutes, I'll just wake up."

"And then I continue in the dream until my time runs out?"

"Not exactly. I'm the dreamer, so once I wake, the dream starts to collapse. Ceilings fall, timbers break, stone crushes, and so on. It'll kill you and wake you too."

"…oh."

"Unless we kick you."

Devona stared at him for a moment. "Kick me?"

Eames smiled slightly, masking his pain. "Not like you're thinking. It-" The elevator shuddered, the lighting flickered, and the man paused his explanation. "We haven't the time right now, I don't think."

Devona eyed the flickering lights warily. "Projections?"

"More than likely."

"With your shoulder, are we-"

She was interrupted suddenly, by the doors of the elevator being wrenched open to reveal a grown number of mutinous projections. Their faces were real, detailed, and terrifying. They rushed in, abruptly separating Devona from the Englishman, and drowning out her scream of surprise and alarm. She saw a couple with knives, a couple with guns, and felt an excruciating explosion of pain-

-she gasped, her chest heaving with the memory of the pain, and firm hands held her down.

"Easy, easy, they're gone, it's over," Cobb's steady voice broke through her terror, while his stern hold forcefully soothed her. "You're awake now, okay?" Pale blue-green eyes studied her intently. "Everything's okay."

She nodded, breathing heavily, but the spasms of fear and surprise were gone.

"How'd it go?" The question was Arthur's, lacking any note of true curiosity.

Eames rolled off the chair, already having pulled the needle out of his arm, and stood with his hands on his hips. "Clearly, we didn't keep ourselves alive the whole two hours. It could've been worse though, I suppose." He said nothing more, but Devona caught the look he exchanged with Cobb. He clearly hadn't said all he was thinking.

Cobb merely nodded in reply and turned back to Devona. "That's all for today, Devona. We've already pushed you further than we probably should have. Go home, get some rest, and meet us back here tomorrow."

"When?"

"Whenever you're ready," he smiled gently, and this time it nearly reached his distant, troubled pale eyes.

She nodded timidly, slowly rising to her feet. She made sure her jacket was snug, found her small purse, and turned towards the exit door. She'd only taken a couple steps however, when she paused and turned back to the three men.

"Cobb?" she asked slowly.

He glanced up, "Yeah?"

Suddenly Devona felt very foolish for not having thought to ask this question sooner. "I don't believe you've told me what I'm actually going to be doing for you guys."

He paused. "You're Security. I told you that. While we perform the extraction, you're there to keep things changing and busy to protect us from the projections."

She kept quiet for a moment, wondering if he'd realize the obvious fact that Eames would be much better Security than she could ever manage. But he said nothing else, and so she nodded obediently. "Right," was all she replied, before offering a weak, distracted smile and heading out.


Eames watched the woman leave, waiting several seconds after she'd disappeared through the back door, before turning to the Point Man and the Extractor. "She's not bad, but she needs some serious work. There's potential, certainly, but she just doesn't have the experience. Not to mention she gets swayed by the faux-reality of the projections too easily."

"We had similar problems," Cobb agreed, brow furrowed as he thought, "she was hesitant."

"Her hesitation got me shot, in the end," Eames added.

"That would explain your spasm near the end of the dreaming," Arthur commented. Eames made a face in reply.

"It hurt like a bitch."

"You have been shot before, haven't you?"

"Of course I have, Arthur. It's not exactly something you get used to though, is it?" Eames retorted bitterly, glaring at the floor. "Like I said, what she's really lacking is experience. And some creativity. She had her moments, but that's all they were."

"But will she work?"

"For what we need, yes. How much time have we got until The Day? Enough for me to train her?"

"We have sixteen days." Arthur replied professionally, hands in his pockets.

Eames nodded, thinking. "I'm sure I can get somewhere by then. It'll be hard work, but," he shrugged, "Can't say I mind spending some extra time with our new recruit, either," he grinned devilishly.

Arthur glared, while Cobb showed no reaction other than, "Keep it in your pants, Eames, that's all I'm asking."

The Englishman chuckled, but both Arthur and Dominick knew the Forger would behave better than he implied.

"Alright, let's pack up. I think we're all done for the day," Cobb sighed and stood, while Arthur deftly packed away the dream-inducer. "Eames, think about ways to get Devona to be more creative, and help her get used to the projections. She needs a totem."

"Am I the one responsible for her now, or something?" The man slung his suit-jacket over his shoulder casually.

"You're going to be training her, and you're going to be working with her in the dreams. You two will need to get to know - or at least understand - each other. We all know how important trust is in the subconscience," he gazed purposefully at both Eames and Arthur.

The Forger sighed dramatically, "As you wish, Cobb. Tomorrow?"

Cobb nodded, knowing he needn't give a time, "See you then."

Eames grinned in Arthur's direction, "Goodnight, Arthur, dear. Sleep tight." He winked, flashing his teeth, and turning away with a chuckle as the younger, moodier man shot a dark glare in return.