Disclaimer: I own no part of Inception. This is all in good fun.
Eames looked around for shirt, but Andre hadn't left one for him. Andre had a way of manipulating those he cared for. If he didn't want them leaving the room, he usually found a way to make it impossible. Or at least uncomfortable. It was cold.
"If we're going to do this, we need to move now," Ariadne spoke in a low voice. "They could be back at any moment."
"I'll take the pistol."
"I don't think so."
Without waiting for him to respond, she marched to the doorway and looked back as if to ask, Are you coming?
Eames knitted his eyebrows in concern as he grabbed the briefcase and hurried after her. If her affection for Arthur was rendering her reckless, he'd need to step in. The Ariadne he knew was logical, intelligent, and would easily see that military training outweighed dream sharing experience when it came to fighting.
The hall was empty when they peered around the corner. Eames put a hand on Ariadne's elbow to signal her to move. Low watt bulbs flickered as they made their way to Arthur's room.
Eames' breath caught in his throat when he saw Arthur laying on a slab. A thin blanket had been draped over him. If he hadn't been hooked up to a heart monitor, Eames might have thought he was dead. His skin was far too pale.
Wait a minute…
Eames felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something wasn't right.
No guards.
No nurse.
No Taylor.
Arthur was in critical condition. Where was everyone?
There was shouting down the hall and the unmistakable sound of silenced gunshots.
Dammit.
Eames wasted no time striding to the table. He scooped Arthur up and lowered him to the floor, careful to mind his head. Then he stood and began pushing the table toward the door.
"Close it!" he barked.
Ariadne shut the heavy door, bolting it shut.
There was a thud as Eames wedged the table against the door. It wouldn't hold for long if someone was determined to break in.
"What's happening?" Ariadne asked.
"Nothing good." Eames knelt by Arthur's side with the briefcase and snapped it open. "Either we were tailed by Yusuf's men and they've decided to move in, or it's an entirely unrelated bout of trouble. My bet is on the former. Then again, I've never had much luck at the tables."
The shouting was getting closer.
Eames swabbed Arthur's inner arm and injected him with the needle. The smell of alcohol permeated the air. Ariadne knelt beside him and motioned for him to lay down. He did so slowly to avoid tearing his stitches. The floor was damp and grimy, but it would have to do. As she was securing the cuff around his wrist with shaking hands, Ariadne asked, "Why would Yusuf's men be after us?"
"Think, love. To document Arthur's withdrawals, to interrogate me about my employer. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."
"You didn't drag me into anything." She readied the compound. "I'll hold them off as long as I can. We only have a few minutes worth of compound. You'll have less than an hour down there."
"That's all I need." He closed his eyes.
"They're going to capture us."
Eames turned his head. There was fear in her eyes.
He flashed her a reassuring smile, hoping all doubt had left his expression. Cradling her chin between his thumb and forefinger, Eames nodded. "Yes, darling. But it's the easiest way to find Yusuf."
"Tell me you have a plan to escape."
Eames allowed his hand to drop as she prepared to press the button. "I'm making this up as I go along."
There was a soft hiss before he sank into a world of dreams.
A city street.
Eames looked around.
Everything was either gray or dark in color. The buildings and streets made Andre's place look like the Hilton. Windows were broken, doors were ajar on bent hinges, and wide fissures climbed brick buildings. The streets were wrought with potholes and gravel. Dry leaves tumbled freely in the breeze, as there wasn't a car in sight.
Projections lined the sidewalks, some walking, some hunched over on the curbside. They were wearing black, their eyes large against sickly pale skin.
This couldn't be good.
Eames looked around for Arthur, but he was nowhere in sight.
"Excuse me," he said, approaching a young couple. "Have you seen Arthur? I need to find him."
The couple listlessly stared. They seemed to be looking right through him.
He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why didn't Ariadne give him control of the dream layout or control of the projections? It made no sense to make Arthur both the dreamer and the subject at this point. She must have panicked.
Eames sighed, letting the couple pass. He put his hands on his hips and looked around, trying to read the names of the buildings surrounding him. The names were faded and worn.
"Pssst."
Eames whipped his head around.
"Pssst. Over here."
A young girl peered out at him from an alley. Eames immediately recognized her from Arthur's previous dream. She'd been the one to help them in the elevator.
She giggled, beckoning him over. Unlike the rest of the projections, her skin was still glowing and her hair was a vibrant auburn. She looked liked she belonged in a park on a summer day.
Eames hurried over to her. He didn't have many options and time would run out without her help.
She disappeared into the alley and he was forced to break into a run to keep up. Feeling annoyed that she hadn't waited for him, he maneuvered his way after her. The alley turned this way and that, winding between buildings. Eames almost lost sight of the girl at several points, but her hair flowed, allowing him to catch a glimpse at each turn.
They finally emerged onto a deserted street. Eames recognized the outside of the warehouse.
Oh, Arthur. Always working.
Running footsteps made him aware that the girl was leaving. She ran into the alley without so much as a backward glance. Her skirts became dirty as she splashed through a puddle.
Eames stared after her curiously, wondering who she was and why she kept reappearing in Arthur's dreams. Though their current situation took precedence, he couldn't help but be intrigued. Arthur was always so guarded that any hint into his experiences was noteworthy.
Pushing his own interest aside, Eames walked to the warehouse door and peered in. Arthur was sitting at his desk. He looked up when Eames opened the door and approached.
"Something wrong with the idea?" He shuffled through a pile of files. The suit he was wearing was wrinkled, as though he hadn't left the warehouse in days. The desk lamp was also on, despite the daylight beyond the windows.
"Beg your pardon?" Eames took a seat on the corner of Arthur's desk, earning himself a glare.
"The basic Fischer idea, Eames. You said you'd be back if there was a problem." Arthur snatched at the files Eames was sitting on. "And get off my desk. I haven't finished my research on Browning and the debriefing is tomorrow."
Eames cracked a smile.
Arthur shot him another annoyed glance. "What?"
"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur." He gave a content sigh. "It's refreshing to see you again. Healthy. Working. Irritated. Just like old times."
Arthur looked guarded. "Are you drunk?"
Laughter escaped before Eames could stop it. He stood and clasped Arthur's shoulder.
At the physical contact, Arthur abruptly stood and whirled around. "What's wrong with you?" he snapped, tugging at his vest. "We're here to work. If you're finished detailing the idea, help Ariadne design the third level. It's your dream, after all."
He sat down in a huff and rolled his chair closer to his desk.
Eames gave a good-natured grin. It was good to see the old Arthur again, but they did have work to do. Work that hadn't been finished for almost a year.
Crossing his arms, Eames asked, "What would you say if I told you we were dreaming right now?"
"I'm busy."
"Come on," he coaxed. "Just roll your totem once. Can't be much harm in that, hmm?"
Arthur stared at the ceiling for a moment before dropping his papers and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the die and pointedly waited to roll it until Eames wasn't looking. It clattered on the wood.
"Go help Ariadne."
Eames dropped his arms in confusion as Arthur put the die back in his pocket. "We're dreaming."
"Right."
"I'm being serious."
"Because you'd never mess with me for kicks."
A thought crossed Eames' mind, making him bring a palm to his forehead. The noise caught Arthur's attention. "Right. This is your dream. Your totem would roll your way. My mistake. Can you remember how you got here?"
"Yeah," Arthur sounded exasperated as he ran a hand over his hair. "I arrived early this… morning."
"Very convincing."
Arthur slowly rose from his desk. From his deliberate movements, it was clear that he couldn't remember the events of that morning. Understandable, since they never happened.
"What's going on, Eames?"
"Time is short. We can talk on the way." Eames clasped his hands together and strode for the door.
Once they were outside, Arthur looked lost. His eyes darted around as he took everything in. Only when Eames grasped his upper arm and pulled him along did his feet begin to move.
"Everything is so… bleak."
"It reflects our situation at the moment," Eames reported.
"Which is what?"
"Snap out of it, darling." It was Eames' turn to sound exasperated. "We finished the Fischer job almost a year ago, remember? We went our separate ways. You, unfortunately, chose to work with Yusuf after some time off and he addicted you to compound #1084. I shouldn't need to tell you this."
Arthur stopped walking. "The compound," he mumbled, his eyebrows knitting. "The comp-"
Without warning, he collapsed. Eames wasn't close enough to catch him before his head met the concrete.
"Damn," Eames cursed, kneeling beside Arthur and gently turning him over. There was a gash on his forehead that had already begun to bleed. The logical part of his brain reminded him that they were dreaming, but his protective side refused to acknowledge it. He cradled Arthur's head with one hand while he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief. Arthur groaned when he applied pressure.
"I'm sorry, love, I should have known better. Any rush of memories has a tendency to be dizzying in dreams. You don't have a headache, do you?"
When Arthur shook his head, Eames breathed a sigh of relief. "The door might still be barricaded up there."
"Ariadne-"
"Is doing what she can to hold Yusuf's men off."
"Why are we here? She needs us." Arthur tried to sit up, but Eames put a hand on his chest to stop him.
"Plenty of time. We're under to save your life and to scrape up more information on Yusuf."
"There is nothing more," Arthur snapped. He pushed away Eames' hand to sit up and lean against the building beside them. Eames held the handkerchief until Arthur held it himself. "I don't know what you're looking for, Eames, and I don't know how to help you."
"I guessed as much, darling. That's why we're walking. We need to question your marvelous projections about what you don't consciously know-"
A thundering crash interrupted him. It shook the ground and threatened to topple nearby buildings.
Eames whipped his head around to see buildings in the distance falling. He swallowed. For some reason, the dream was already collapsing. They had to move fast.
"Up and at 'em." He grabbed Arthur's arm and gave it a great heave to help him stand.
"I'm not a cripple." Arthur shook him off and dropped the handkerchief. "We need to run for the main streets. Follow me." He took off in a burst of speed, his movements efficient as he ran for the alley.
Eames followed closely, determined not to be left behind. The ground shook more violently than before and noise roared in his ears. The air became thick with the dust of fallen buildings, making it difficult to see through a gray haze. The chances of them interogating projections and learning useful information before waking were slim at best.
But they had to try. Unknown to Arthur, Yusuf's men had probably already found them hooked up to the PASIV Device. It was only a matter of time until they were taken prisoner.
As they rounded the last turn, a projection stepped into the alley. Arthur slowed his pace only slightly as the man reached inside his jacket. Eames leapt onto Arthur's back and tackled him just as the bullets started flying. They hit the ground hard, rolling to the base of the building on the right.
It happened so fast that Eames barely noticed the blood spreading across his shoulder.
His eyes were only on the man who had shot at them. Only several paces away, the man's lips spread in a snarl. He raised the weapon again and shot Arthur in the head without batting an eye. Arthur's legs jerked and he let out a soft groan before stilling.
Eames closed his eyes and fought back his grief. It was only a dream.
"Why?" He struggled to sit up, panting as the pain of his shoulder wound hit him. "The dream is already collapsing and you have us where you want us."
The gun was aimed at his heart.
The man let out a humorless laugh. "Think of it as a gift from Yusuf."
Eames never heard the gunshot.
