A.N: Just racing along, trying to finish this story before my next semester starts and my life becomes nothing but sadness and aggravation. I'm ashamed of how long this chapter is, and how much dialogue I threw in. But I wanted to get them to the second level this week!
Disclaimer: I don't own Inception. I also don't own Codex Alera.
Eames got Saito upstairs, carrying him with Yusuf's help; it was an awkward trip spent carefully adjusting Saito's weight between them as they made the climb, Arthur following after them closely.
When they made it to the upstairs level of the warehouse, Ariadne helped them clear off the only flat surface; a weathered table that looked like it must have been used for a similar purpose at least a few times.
Cobb waited and watched them prepare Saito by stripping away his tunic, leaving their client half-clothed.
Arthur gently pushed the others away, but Eames stayed close to Arthur's elbow as he began to examine Saito more carefully.
"Give me more light," Arthur ordered. "I'll need a basin!"
"Not a tub?" Ariadne asked when she came back with a basin that she had rinsed and refilled with clean rainwater. Arthur shook his head and gestured for the basin to be placed on the table next to Saito's body.
"There's not enough time for that."
Cobb fetched a few candles and a furylamp he had spotted in the corner. He pressed his fingers against the dry candle wicks, calling to his fury to make them spark and catch fire. He spoke to the furylamp in an authoritative tone, commanding the furies within the lamp to work and give him light.
He offered these things to Arthur who accepted them with a nod but said nothing else.
In Arthur's stead, Yusuf took the sources of light away from Cobb and found places for the candles and held the furylamp up for the point man, illuminating Saito's wound.
Once again, Arthur pressed his hand against Saito's chest, trying to avoid putting too much pressure on it or jostling the arrow.
He frowned and touched the arrow still protruding from Saito's chest. Before he could ask, Eames gently touched Arthur's shoulder, tapping himself in so he could do what Arthur couldn't.
"For the most part-" Arthur said, eyes still closed as he took a closer look at the wound with his fury's assistance, "- this arrow hasn't pierced any vital organs. It can be removed, but you must be careful."
Eames nodded and touched the arrow, calling on his woodcrafting so he could carefully remove it without doing anymore damage to Saito. The forger was examining the bloodstained arrow, satisfied that it came out in one piece. Even the steel arrowhead was intact.
"Don't you dare touch that," Arthur said softly, as if he'd been able to feel Eames's fingers twitching while he examined the arrowhead. Arthur's frown deepened. "My fury is doing patchwork, healing severed veins, and attempting to restore tissue." He sighed. "But I don't think it's going to be enough."
"What do you mean?" Cobb said, already sounding like he was going to try and yell at Arthur again. Eames shot him a warning look and was satisfied when the man stopped short.
"I mean that this arrow was poisoned- dispose of it now, Mr. Eames. I'll barely be able to handle Saito's healing, I don't think I can take the strain of another."
Eames did as Arthur asked.
"Is it what I think it is, darling?"
Arthur opened his eyes, looked at the forger, and nodded solemnly. "Garic-oil poisoning."
"But what's that?" Ariadne asked, bringing them clean towels and setting them next to the basin of water.
"Weapon merchants preserve their weapons using an oil mixture that contains a tincture made from garic-oil. If the oil turns it can become very poisonous," Arthur said. He reached for a towel, dipped it in the basin, and then rung it out. He took the damp towel and mopped up the blood smeared across Saito's chest, carefully cleaning the wound and forcing himself not to react to Saito's moans of pain.
"If it's treated quickly, it can be handled. But if it sits for longer than an hour the rot can get into the blood. Once it's in the blood it can be spread throughout the entire body for as long as the heart beats. It's an ugly, painful death. He will become feverish, disoriented, and experience a great deal of pain before he finally looses consciousness and dies. And because of how heavily sedated we are, Saito will drop into Limbo."
No one said a damned thing in response to that.
"So, you knew about these risks and you didn't tell us?" Arthur asked, clearly speaking to Cobb but not sparing him a glance.
"There weren't meant to be any risks. I didn't know that we'd be dealing with a bunch of bloodcrows and cutters armed with poisoned arrows!"
Arthur disposed of the bloody towel and examined the wound again. After a second, he leaned forwards and did what any good surgeon would- he smelled the wound, still frowning to himself.
"You had no right," Arthur said as he pulled away. "Now I've got no choice but to try and heal Saito. The garic-oil is already poisoning his blood."
"This was the only way to go three layers deep," Cobb argued, watching as Arthur began to strip off his cloak so his hands and arms would be free.
"Here's a chair," Yusuf said, dragging an old and rickety wooden chair to the table so Arthur would be able to sit close to Saito.
Eames hadn't moved from Arthur's side.
"You can't do this."
Arthur ignored him.
"I mean it!" the forger persisted, hating himself for how desperate he was beginning to sound.
"I've read about the procedures to heal garic-oil poisoning, Eames."
"But you've never practiced them, either!"
Arthur sighed and reached for a neat coil of rope. "You know the drill, Eames. I'm the one who can watercraft right now. If Saito is going to survive the next level, I have to try."
"No!" Eames hissed. "We go any deeper, we just raise the stakes. I'm sitting this one out and so should you!"
The point man shook his head. "Not gonna work, Eames."
"Ten hours of flight time is a week on this level," Cobb added. "That means each and every one of us will be killed."
The forger glared at Cobb. "Did I ask? Did I ask you about that?"
Cobb raised his hands in surrender and pointedly shut the hell up.
Arthur was using the rope to tie his and Saito's hands together. When he was sure the knot was tight, he turned to Eames.
"Keep watch over us; if either my or Saito's heart rate takes a sudden drop I'll need to you pull me out of my crafting."
Eames bit his lip, the words 'what if I did it instead?' were on the very tip of his tongue. He had no more experience in healing a garic-oil poisoning than Arthur did, but he was still the stronger watercrafter…
But just thinking of undertaking another healing made Eames feel a sick sense of shame, fear, and failure. He could still swear that he felt the blood welling up beneath his hands, watching the light fade from his doomed patient's eyes. Eames shook his head and forced the memory away.
With Arthur's watercrafting senses extended so wide, it was no wonder that he caught Eames's emotions.
"Cut it out," Arthur said, concerned for the forger but needing to focus on Saito. "Stop thinking about it and just do as I've asked, okay? I promise you, we'll have time to work this out later, but right now I need you be here for me."
Eames's back stiffened and he finally nodded to Arthur, grasping the point man's free hand while he laid his other hand on Saito's leg so he could keep track of their vitals with his fury's help.
Arthur's face softened and he smiled for him before descending into a healing few had been able to master.
Arthur slumped forwards in his chair, resting his forehead against the table. He didn't move.
"Is-," Ariadne swallowed hard. "Is he going to be okay?"
Cobb had left the upstairs level to take a breather and Yusuf had slipped away to double-check the PASIV he'd manifested with at the start of the dream.
His own watercrafting senses extended, Eames knew that the others were gone and shrugged.
"He's got a decent chance. Caught it early," Eames said carefully.
"But it's dangerous to do, right?"
"Very," Eames said, his eyes slipping closed as he appeared to try and match the point man's breathing so they were in sync, like always. "He must attack the main site of the infection and break it into smaller pieces so it can be spread out through the body via the bloodstream, giving Saito's immune system a better chance of fighting it."
He took another breath, focusing on Arthur's heartbeat and Saito's, too.
"But he won't be able to cure Saito. We don't have enough time to try and free Saito from the infection completely."
"How long does it take?"
Eames shrugged. "According to the histories we have read, the method of treatment Arthur will be attempting took well over twenty days," he snorted, not able to see Ariadne's look of shock, but maybe he could sense her surprise, "if this had happened on the second level, maybe Arthur could have managed it. But right now, all he can do is try to slow it down…"
Ariadne let herself lean against a few dusty crates that had been left in this room.
"What's the rope for," she asked, indicating the rope tied around Arthur's wrist and Saito's, keeping their hands close.
"A tactic to make sure the crafter doesn't break the crafting due to physical exhaustion," Eames answered, "Arthur has to put himself into something of a trance-like state to even try to make a dent in this. It requires lots of visualization, lots of mental effort."
"So much that he's using you as an anchor."
Eames turned his head just enough; he winked at her and sent a smile her way. "Yes, I'm the anchor. As wrapped up as he is in the healing, he can still feel my heartbeat and my presence. I'm grounding him and providing a way out. He just has to grab for the metaphorical rope and let me save him."
Then Eames frowned, his eyes closing once more as he concentrated.
"What's wrong?" Ariadne asked softly. She felt particularly useless in this situation, but she didn't want to leave them alone…
Whatever it was, Eames's expression smoothed out, the worry drifting away. "It's fine. Arthur was experiencing some difficulties, but I think he has it straightened out now." He cleared his throat and, since his eyes were still closed, used his crafting to catch the trembling edge of her nervousness and agitation.
"Calm down," he advised her. "A watched pot never boils and worrying at a watercrafter's side doesn't make the flesh heal any faster. Take a break. If you could find some food, I would be grateful because when Arthur finishes he's going to be ravenous and if Saito's conscious he'll need to eat something, too."
Appreciating the task she could handle, she went in search of Yusuf, so she could secure the things Eames suggested. His exact words were plenty of meat and lots of water.
Though Yusuf had mentioned not going down into dreams very often, it appeared that he was still capable of being thorough and prepared when he was dreaming a level.
The warehouse hadn't been prepared with anything that even passed as a kitchen, but Yusuf showed her a cabinet filled with food and two objects he called coldstones.
"You'd be interested in how these are made," Yusuf had said as he dreamed up a platter and started loading it with meats, cheeses, and fruits. "It's a fury-crafted object that can keep food and drink cold for months at a time without the use of electricity. Obviously during this time they didn't have electricity, so they used what they could lay hands on. They used fire furies."
Ariadne had frowned as she helped him carry the platter of food and the jug of fresh water upstairs. "Why fire furies?"
"Hmm, fire furies can do more than just burn things. Firecrafting is all about arranging heat, so moving heat from one source to another is an advanced application for this type of furycrafting. But you should see what happens when one of these coldstones gets smashed. The fire furies trapped within it break free and suck up every little bit of heat around them!"
Ariadne found this to be interesting, but she knew that Yusuf was trying very hard not to bring more attention to the role he had played in getting them in this mess. It was a small role, sure. He had already planned to use sedation with the compound, but must have increased the amount because of what Cobb had said.
That he knew inception was possible. That he had been to Limbo.
This wasn't an argument Ariadne was willing to have. Besides, what was the point?
Ariadne was also pretty sure that Arthur might have more to say about it when he finished trying to heal Saito.
"Look," Yusuf said before they got to the very top of the stairs and the closed door to their improvised healing room, "I- I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."
"It would probably be better if you apologized to everyone, not just me."
"But I think I need to apologize to you first."
Ariadne let her raised eyebrow and dubious expression speak for itself.
"Because…this now has the potential to ruin your life."
Ariadne wasn't going to mention how all of their lives would be ruined if they died in the dream and ended up in Limbo. Cobb would never see his kids, Saito would be collared forever, Fischer would never get over his apparent daddy issues, and Arthur and Eames would never, ever get to be together in real life (which seemed to be the saddest thing considering that even if they did create a life together down in Limbo it would be a lie, it would have no substance).
For someone who hadn't wanted to be a dreamer at all, Yusuf wasn't complaining about the threat Limbo represented to him.
And then there was her, Ariadne. Yusuf would probably mention her being too young to have to live out her life in Limbo.
But she couldn't think of that right now. She had to move forwards, like she was sure that Cobb was going to demand they do. It all hinged upon how Arthur was, how Saito was, and then, what Eames learned when he spoke to Fischer as Browning.
"I'll make you a deal," Ariadne said.
"What?"
"I'll make you a deal, but I'm only offering it once, okay?"
Yusuf nodded.
"If we make it out of this alive, and I mean it, 100% living and breathing in the waking world, you can apologize to me properly."
When he was about to speak, she cut him off.
"No. I don't want to hear how sorry you are now. We don't have time. But later... we'll have time later. Especially if Arthur doesn't murder you."
"Or if Eames doesn't team up with Arthur to murder me."
Ariadne nodded again, businesslike. "Same difference. Both of them have every right to be mad at you."
And before either could say anything more, Eames called to them, perfectly audible through the closed door.
"If the strange courtship dance of the chemist and architect is done for now, could you please bring the food in?"
Ariadne shot a look at Yusuf and attempted to assess the situation.
The man was, once again, blushing just a bit at what Eames was implying.
She couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of it. It was kind of sweet, but now wasn't the time.
"I don't think you should give him the time of day," Arthur was telling Ariadne between bites of chilled ("-but definitely fully-cooked", Yusuf had assured them) ham.
"I'm sitting right here," Yusuf said, waving from his spot on top of a crate, his improvised seat.
"I know, Yusuf, but you've got to appreciate the parallel," Eames said, refilling Arthur's plate while the point man paused to take a long drink of water. "I used to come to you all the time and we'd have our chats about Arthur. Now that you've expressed your interest in Ariadne, we can start!" Eames smiled at Yusuf, an evil glint in his eyes. "I think she's much too pretty for you."
Ariadne was surprised (and a little flattered) but shook her head. She understood what was happening. They were trying to restore some sense of equilibrium. If the worst of it was going to be teasing, Ariadne would take it.
And then Cobb came in and asked after Saito.
Ashen faced but restoring himself at an admirable rate, Arthur shot Cobb a look and said, "He's stable. He drank a little." Arthur frowned, looking over to where Saito still lay on the table, still breathing and not bleeding. "But I couldn't stop the infection at its source…he'll last a little longer now, but the prognosis isn't good."
Cobb looked like he was biting his tongue.
Arthur shook his head and looked from Cobb to Yusuf. "You knew about this all along and you went along with it?" Arthur asked the chemist seated on the crate.
"I trusted him," Yusuf said, pointing at Cobb.
"You trusted him? When? When he promised you half his share?"
"No. His whole share. He'd said that he'd done it before!"
Arthur became incensed, turning to face Cobb once more. "Oh he said he'd done it before? What, with Mal? Because that worked so good?"
"I did what I had to do to get back to my children!"
Eames stood at Arthur's side, crossing his arms over his chest and eying the extractor carefully.
"There's something I've wanted to do for awhile…darling, are you up for a truthfinding?"
Arthur frowned and looked at Cobb, no doubt weighing the pros and cons. Finally, he nodded.
Cobb's eyes widened and he tried to turn away, but there wasn't anyone faster than Arthur.
The point man first grabbed Cobb's weapon hand, holding his wrist in a crushing grip without the benefit of earthcrafting. Cobb winced in pain and was about to speak when Eames came up behind him and grasped his shoulders, forcing him to stay in one place and not dare to call on his fire fury.
"Oh, no," Eames said to him, soft and gentle. "I can hear that thought and feel that ugly little emotion. You're scared and you're angry and you're desperate. Not stupid, though. Because I'm sure you know, even without truthfinding, that I'm completely honest when I say that I'll break you in half if you try to burn Arthur up."
"Arthur?" Cobb asked, not moving under Eames's hold.
The point man held his gaze for a moment before looking at Eames and nodding once. "It checks out, Cobb. He'd snap you like a toothpick. Now I want you to be honest with me. You know that I loved her too, Cobb. You know that I love your children. That I've done so much to try and get you back to them. Answer my questions and we'll continue. Try and regain my trust."
Eames sighed, tightening his grip on Cobb's shoulders. "Be a little more forceful, darling. I'm sensing some resistance."
"Thank you, Mr. Eames."
Arthur returned his attention to Cobb. "We'll make this quick because we now have a very big mess to clean up, don't we Cobb? And, you know the rules; a yes or no answer is fine."
"Yes," Cobb answered, sullen and resigned.
"Good. Have you completed a job like this, an inception, under such a high level of sedation?"
"Yes, it offers greater stability for the levels."
"And you learned this with Mal?"
Cobb flinched and swallowed hard, refusing to break eye contact with Arthur. "…Yes."
"That was a close one, darling! Dig a little deeper."
Arthur nodded and continued. "This must have been very dangerous. Did you know that?"
Eames hummed and looked over Cobb's shoulder at Arthur. "Guilt. Lots of it, darling."
Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, drawling, "Really? And here I was thinking he's suffering from heartburn…"
Cobb cursed. "Fuck, I get it! I'm sorry, Arthur! Yes, I feel guilty over what happened with Mal, but it doesn't change the fact that I know what I'm doing here! I promise you, if we just stand here making a watercrafter-sandwich for much longer, our window of opportunity is going to get narrower and narrower!"
Arthur looked at Eames and asked, "What do you think?"
The forger shrugged. "He comes off as honest. He is telling the truth. Doesn't make me like this any better, but we've done all we can. Kiss and make up so you can prime Fischer for me." Eames let go of Cobb, giving him a pointed nudge forwards.
The extractor stumbled forwards a little, leaning closer to the point man than he wanted to. He shuffled back a few steps and Arthur let go of his wrist.
"I wanted to say," Cobb began, shooting a look over his shoulder at his watching team and then returning his attention to Arthur. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blamed you for Fischer's being militarized." Cobb shook his head. "When we make it out of this, I hope that you'll still want to be friends…otherwise, I don't know how I'm going to explain it to the kids."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "You slick bastard. You can't con me into forgiving you for the children!"
But Cobb had found Arthur's pressure point.
"Phillipa's gonna need flying lessons sooner or later, Arthur. And you know she'll want you to teach her."
"I hate you," Arthur growled.
Cobb clapped Arthur on the shoulder and said, "Come on. Let's go and shake him up."
They had left Fischer in the back room, tied up with rope, and hooded.
Cobb ripped the sack off of Fischer's head, leaving the young Princeps blinking up at them for a second before his face became a cool, bored mask.
"I'm insured against kidnapping for up to ten million. This should be very simple."
"Shut up! It won't be," Cobb assured Fischer. He had made certain to bring a flame with him to this room- it may have just been a single candle sitting on a nearby ledge, but it would be enough for Cobb to focus on and stir up Fischer's emotions with.
"In the First Lord's chambers, just below the bookshelves, is his personal safe. We need the combination," Arthur said, his voice hard edged and sharp as a knife.
Fischer sighed. "I don't know any safe."
Cobb leaned closer, calling upon his firecrafting, infusing his voice with it. With his crafting working to make Fischer more open to suggestion, open to fear, it was possible to lead him to an idea without much work. Even as he spoke, he did so with the single-minded thought of doubt yourself, Fischer.
"That doesn't mean you don't know the combination," Cobb said as he crouched before the bound mark. "Tell us what it is."
"I don't know," Fischer said, sounding very sure of himself.
It's okay, Cobb thought to himself. It just needs to build. Let's give him more fuel.
Cobb forced himself to his feet and stomped away, allowing Arthur to take control while he went to check in with Eames.
"We have it on good authority you do know," Arthur said, looking for flares of emotion that he could exploit.
"Yeah?" Fischer asked, once again, trying to sound bored, trying to sound unimpressed. "Whose authority?"
A very fine, very thin thread of curiosity wove it's way around Fischer.
"Don't sniff the damned purse, Yusuf," Eames was saying as he looked at his reflection in the mirrors set up in the corner. Several Eames's stared back at him.
"He wants us to believe that this purse cost five hundred in Aleran currency?"
Eames looked over at Yusuf and asked, "What else is inside it?"
Yusuf looked inside the heavy purse. "Coins. More coins. Some more coins. And-," Yusuf said, playing it out until Eames told him to shut up.
"We get it. The man is rich. Is there anything else in there?"
"I was getting to that bit but you interrupted me," the chemist said with a sniff of indignation. "It's a picture."
"Like a photograph?"
Yusuf passed it to him. "Not in Alera. This is an actual miniature painting."
And it was. Eames held it carefully in two fingers, feeling rather ridiculous- the detail of the thing was amazing and it was smaller than the palm of his hand. It was most likely a recreation of some real photo of Fischer's; something that he cherished or clung to when he thought of his father.
It was a scene of the father and son playing with a...pinwheel? It was strange that the image hadn't tried to fit itself in with the world Fischer had found himself dreaming of, considering that he had done so with everything else.
It meant that this painting, this reference to a real photo of Fischer's, was important.
Cobb came in, probably to check the progress on the forgery. Eames passed him the delicate painting.
"Useful?"
Cobb looked at it carefully, before saying, "Maybe." He changed gears and looked at Eames as he sat in front of the mirrors, preparing his forgery.
"You're on. You've got an hour."
"An hour?" Eames repeated, looking at Cobb. From the mirror several of Eames's rebounding reflections had already taken the form of Browning, a startling effect. Cobb kept his eyes on the Eames in front of him, so he wouldn't get a headache. "I was supposed to have all night to crack this."
"And Saito wasn't supposed to be shot in the chest with a poisoned arrow. You've got one hour, now get us something useful, please."
Between one second and the next, Eames had fiddled with something in his pocket, his Browning reflections doing the same before Eames became Browning. He turned towards the door and screamed like it was being ripped from the pit of his stomach.
Robert Fischer heard the screams, the bellowing cries of pain.
"What's that?
"Good authority," Arthur answered with ease.
The screams continued. Fischer became visibly perturbed- he began to sweat and fidget and show every sign of distress Arthur knew of. It was clear that Fischer could recognize the voice.
"Uncle Peter," Fischer said to himself, beginning to make more abortive movements as he kept trying to do things like wipe the sweat off his face, but couldn't because of the rope binding his hands and arms. He was close to begging. "Just make them stop."
The screams and bellows of pain went on and Fischer flinched again.
"The combination," Arthur demanded.
"I don't know it," Fischer answered, repeating himself in the hopes that maybe this time his captor would believe him.
"Why does Lord Browning say you do?"
Fischer looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "I don't know. Just let me talk to him and I'll find out."
Good, Arthur thought. He's bargaining because he believes he has something to lose now.
Before Fischer could offer more, Cobb nearly broke open the door to the backroom, kicking Eames forging Browning through it. He forced Eames to the ground, the man's hands already tied behind his back with rope.
"You have one hour," Cobb yelled. "Start talking!"
"You alright? You okay?" Fischer was asking, trying to scoot himself closer to Eames as Browning.
Eames did his best to look tired, beaten, and in pain. He took great breaths of air with each exhalation ending in a pained groan.
"Those bastards have had at me for two days!" Eames spat in Browning's voice, certain that he looked just the right amount of fearful and hopeless in his stained and ripped silk robes, done in the colors of his house. Eames watched Fischer out of the corner of his eye and hoped that something would kick in for him; firing mirror neurons that would encourage Fischer to do as his uncle was doing and divulge information.
"They have someone with access to your father's chambers and they're trying to open his safe."
Fischer nodded.
"They thought I'd know the combination, but I don't know it."
"Yeah, well, neither do I, so-" Fischer replied.
Eames turned to look at him in shock and disbelief. "What? Maurice told me that when he passed, you were the only one able to open it."
Fischer continued to deny his knowledge of any combination to a safe.
This would be the tricky part…
"Maybe he did," Eames said, rolling one shoulder as well as he could in a shrug since his hands were bound behind his back. He was almost tempted to loosen his bindings with his woodcrafting but didn't want Fischer to notice and try to plan an escape. Eames continued along the theme of special numbers with greater meaning, something that may have referenced something they shared together.
Fischer laughed bitterly at his words. "We didn't have very many meaningful experiences together."
This is probably a long shot, Eames thought as he considered Fischer's history.
"Perhaps after your mother died."
And then, Eames learned exactly how bad Fischer's relationship was with his father. Trying to keep the look of astonishment off of his (and Browning's) face, Eames soldiered on and learned as much as he could.
Cobb was back upstairs, looking in on Saito, who was being watched by Ariadne.
"How's he doing?"
Ariadne looked up from where she had been examining the wound- what she knew of First Aid wasn't of much value, but the least she could do was put a fresh bandage on the wound and keep an eye out for increased redness or the signs of the infection spreading.
"He's in a lot of pain."
The collar Saito still wore, even in the dream, was glinting in the light as he leaned his head back and grit his teeth in pain.
"When we get down to the lower levels the pain will be less intense," Cobb said, not sure who he was trying to reassure.
It was clear that Ariadne wasn't reassured at all.
"And if he dies?"
Cobb gave her the worst-case scenario. Facing the threat of waking up with his mind completely gone gave Saito just enough strength to speak.
"Cobb," Satio said. "I'll still honor the arrangement."
"I appreciate that, Saito," Cobb said. "But when you wake up you won't even remember that we had an arrangement."
Eames was running out of options. It seemed that the more dangerous the situation became, the more unyielding Fischer became.
"These people are going to kill us if we don't give them the combination."
Fischer shook his head and talked about ransom.
"I heard them," Eames said urgently. "They're gonna lock us in that coach and then drive it into a river!"
Fischer finally, finally, looked at him seriously. "Alright. What's in the safe?"
"Something for you," Eames said, trying to put as much of a positive spin on this as he could. "Maurice always said it was his most precious gift to you. A chance to prove yourself, really."
Fischer's face twisted a little. "Prove myself? What do I have to prove? I should be the First Lord of Alera but no, I'm still referred to as Princeps Robert! My father is dead, burned away to ashes and scattered to the wind, and yet I'm still stuck in his shadow!"
This is interesting, Eames thought. "He's offered you a chance to do something different. Instead of taking up the mantle, you could pass it on to someone else. There are papers, signed and sealed that would have another high lord legally adopted as your father's heir."
"An edict that would force me to give up the crown and have someone else take my place," Robert said in a dull, lifeless voice.
"It'd be an end to the entire empire as we know it," Eames solemnly agreed.
"Destroying my whole inheritance?" Fischer stared and stared. "Why would he suggest such a thing? The Fischer's have been First Lords since the beginning of Alera…"
"I just don't know," Eames answered. And then, he tried to go for the positive emotions that might encourage a change, something that might make him feel good about his relationship with his father. "He loved you, Robert." And because Eames wasn't blind to the animosity between father and son, he added, "In his own way."
Fischer repeated those words, slowly. Eames looked at him again and extended his crafting to peek at Fischer's emotional state.
It was a riot of bundled up conflicting emotions- there was hate, fear, abandonment, bitterness, love, and a vindictive spike of justification . As if Fischer could now complete a long list of real and imagined injuries, sit on a therapist's couch, and then explain all the ways his father didn't love him.
Eames had the horrible suspicion that he had just tried to quench a fire with a bucket of gasoline.
Fischer began to tell him a story about his very last interaction with his father as he stood by the man's deathbed. Eames had to stop himself from visibly wincing as Fischer's feelings of hurt, grief, and anger kept flaring in time with his words.
There was a particularly large spike of hatred when Fischer pronounced his father's final words and ultimate opinion of him.
Disappointed.
Eames sighed as Fischer stared at him like he was daring his beloved uncle to try and say he was wrong.
When Ariadne first broached the question of Cobb's time in Limbo, she hadn't expected to get answers. Or, at least, not very good answers. Maybe answers that trailed off into nothing, or answers that went in circles, or answers that really only lead to more questions.
"You were in Limbo for fifty years?"
Cobb nodded.
"Jesus. How could you stand it?"
Ariadne had the suspicion that maybe, since Mal had apparently been with him, it was better than getting lost down there alone.
Cobb shrugged. "It wasn't so bad, feeling like gods. The problem was knowing that none of it was real. It became impossible for me to live like that."
Me, Ariadne thought. Not "us", then.
Cobb continued to speak about how Mal had lost her sense of reality, that she had hidden something away inside herself. That Limbo had become her reality.
"And what happened when you woke up?"
Cobb was already looking uncomfortable. "To wake up after years? After decades?"
To become old souls thrown back into youth…
"I knew something was wrong. At first she wouldn't tell me but…she was possessed by this idea. One very simple idea that changed everything."
As Cobb spoke, so much of what Ariadne had already learned came back to the forefront of her mind.
You said we'd be together. You said we'd grow old together, she remembered the shade screaming as they escaped that dream. The hotel, the open window with its fluttering curtains beckoning like curled fingers.
"She believed that the only way to get back to reality was to kill ourselves."
The children, Ariadne thought, recalling the projections she'd seen in Cobb's dream. What about Arthur?
"Arthur didn't know," Cobb said, almost as if he'd read her mind. "He knew that she was behaving erratically, but he couldn't get a read on her…she actually stopped allowing him to touch her, in case he tried to perform a truthfinding on her or something."
"But if she thought that he was just a projection what would it matter?"
Cobb shook his head. "Everything came to a head on our anniversary. I had asked Arthur to look after the children while we were away, hoping that I might be able to talk some sense to Mal if we were alone. We went to the same hotel suite, each year, without fail. But I came in to find the place a wreck and Mal, she was sitting on the ledge of the building directly opposite ours."
The extractor looked at her quickly, almost as if he were trying to get her to believe him. "I tried to get her down, but she kept threatening to jump unless I got on the ledge, too. It didn't matter what I said, she jumped anyways. She had herself declared sane by three different psychiatrists. She also filed a letter with our attorney, explaining how she feared for her life, and that I threatened to kill her. So I ran and I've been trying to buy my way back ever since."
Ariadne couldn't believe it. She couldn't just tell Cobb that it was crazy- that it sounded like something that should be on a soap opera! Cobb was being haunted by a dead woman. A hungry ghost that fed on his guilt and shame over what had been done, that stood in his path and stopped him from completing the mission to get home, and that harmed anyone else who stood a chance at helping Cobb, too.
She remembered the gutting in the first dream she shared with Cobb, the broken champagne glass Mal had armed herself with during the last one.
And, Ariadne knew that she wasn't the only person Mal liked to go after. Poor Arthur, she thought.
The only course of action was for Cobb to forgive himself for what happened and confront Mal.
She told him so.
"But you don't have to do it alone."
Cobb flinched and shook his head. "No, you don't have to…"
"I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for the others. Because they have no idea the risk they've taken coming down here with you."
Before Cobb could say anything in response to her harsh (but accurate) assessment, he spotted movement from his spot by the windows. It was another one of Fischer's projections.
"We have to move."
Cobb and Arthur rushed back into the backroom where Fischer and Eames forging Browning, sat huddled together.
"Time's up," Cobb said as he stood over Fischer.
"Alright," the mark said fearfully, "I don't know any combination. Not consciously anyway."
Cobb pulled his sword and pressed the shining steal tip against the mark's throat.
"How about instinctively, huh?"
The extractor gestured to Arthur who was holding an ordinary glass of water. Fischer wouldn't be able to tell that Arthur wasn't working a watercrafting so they could speak to someone else in his father's chambers- Fischer didn't need to know that the watercrafting was only going as far as the room upstairs where Yusuf stood ready to play the part needed.
"I've got somebody standing in your father's chambers right now ready to put in the combination. Give me the first six numbers that come to your head right now!"
Arthur came closer so Fischer could be 'heard' through the watercrafting.
Fischer refused and once again claimed his ignorance.
Time to push harder, Cobb thought, reaching out to his firecrafting and hitting Fischer where it would hurt- the already strained fear for his uncle. Cobb exploited it, playing up his firecrafting to accentuate Fischer's fear.
Then he took the sword and placed it against Eames's throat, screaming, "Right now! I said right now!"
Fischer spat out a series of numbers. Five, two, eight, four, nine, one- worthless numbers that could very well become the combination they needed Fischer to know.
Cobb looked expectantly over at Arthur. A voice that sounded like it was coming from a tube, a voice that was really just Yusuf speaking to them in an undertone while covering his mouth with one hand, could be heard from the cup of water.
"It didn't work," the voice said, and after a second or two, Arthur broke the crafting.
Cobb removed the sword from Eames's throat, aware of Arthur's eyes on him the entire time.
"You'll have to do better than that." Cobb looked at Arthur, nodded at the pair on the ground and said, "Alright. Bag them."
Arthur took the hooded Princeps, forcing him to walk forwards with the hand he kept on the back of the man's neck. Cobb did the same with Eames forging Browning, keeping him hooded as well for the sake of the ploy.
When Arthur forced Fischer to get into the coach, finally unbound but unable to escape as Arthur quickly dosed him with more sedative.
"We're worth more to you alive," Fischer was still saying as the the point man waited for the sedative to take effect.
Once he was out, Arthur hopped out of the coach and reconvened with Cobb and Eames, who had dropped the forgery as soon as the hood was off of his head, following Arthur out of the reasonably spacious back of the coach.
"What'd you get?" Cobb asked.
"That boy's relationship with his father is even worse than we imagined."
"And this helps us how?" Arthur said as he circled around the coach, moving swiftly to the large wooden doors he'd have to slide open to get a better look at the small army coming to reclaim Fischer and murder them creatively.
"The stronger the issues, the more powerful the catharsis," Cobb called to the point man's back.
Ariadne was heading to get into the coach, carrying the PASIV so Yusuf would be free to carry Saito. The client was slumped over Yusuf's back, not enjoying the piggyback ride he was getting. It probably only put more pressure on his chest wound.
Cobb moved to help them as Arthur began to argue with Eames over the next move.
"How are we gonna reconcile them if they're so estranged?" Arthur said as he made a short bow appear in his hand. He reached for the quiver of arrows now hanging in a leather quiver on his back, moving towards the doors and large windows of the warehouse with quick, sure steps.
"Well I'm working on that aren't I?" Eames called after him.
"Work faster, Mr. Eames!"
Arthur moved to the door, already outlining the strategy- the projections were closing in quick and they'd have to break out of the warehouse before they were boxed in and killed.
The point man took a deep breath and looked out the windows- he spotted a man armed with a crossbow, standing on another rooftop not too far away. If the projection was a decent woodcrafter, Arthur could become excellent food for the hungry crows that appeared just before large, bloody battles were fought.
He pushed that out of his mind, drew an arrow, set it to the string of his bow and pulled it back nice and tight. He lined up his shot and sent the arrow smashing through the window and flying towards the projection on the roof. He missed.
Arthur tried again, aiming for another that was crawling along the ground, also armed with a bow. He came close, but still, Arthur didn't kill him.
Several of the projections' arrows did slam into the window frame that Arthur was standing in front of!
He jumped away and counted himself lucky.
I wish I had my gun. I really miss my gun, Arthur thought. He wasn't the most amazing shot with a bow and arrow- he'd need more woodcrafting to shoot as well as these projections!
Arthur was very tempted to run out there and draw steel. He could cut them all to ribbons using the duelist blade he had strapped to his hip…and then get shot full of arrows when his back was turned.
Frustrated, Arthur moved to the warehouse door, forcing it to slide open and provide him with a better vantage point as the team finished loading Saito into the coach.
Arthur was finally able to shoot down the man on the roof! Several arrows went flying his way, but Arthur dodged with a windcrafter's characteristic speed. He lined up his next shot, spotting another man on the roof.
He shot another arrow but missed as another volley of arrows came his way, forcing him to dodge again.
"Damn it," Arthur said, reaching for another arrow and finding that the leather quiver he wore was empty.
Eames waltzed over and sent a very brief smile his way.
"You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling," Eames said.
"What?" Arthur asked, as if they had all the time in the world to be cute and banter. "Are you going to show me up with a grenade launcher?"
"No," Eames said, as he manifested a massive war bow, using all of his woodcrafting to bend the thing back, further and further as he set the arrow in place and took the proper position to fire the thing. His broad shoulders were set, the muscles in his arms were flexing powerfully, and then after spotting his quarry, Eames fired.
It rocketed from the war bow, flying through the air with a piercing whistle. The arrow slipped its way around obstacles till it found the projection Arthur had tried to take down himself.
And when it got there, the arrow nearly took off the projection's head.
Arthur shot Eames a look, trying and failing to not look so impressed. Eames released his crafting, stretching out his arms to relieve the tension. Arthur heard several vertebrae in the forger's spine pop back into place.
Then Eames started to walk back to the coach so he could take his place in the back with the sedated Fischer.
Arthur couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes and shut the warehouse door.
They began to plan their next steps while Yusuf drove the coach.
"We need to shift his animosity from his father to his godfather," Cobb was saying.
"You're going to destroy his one positive relationship?"
Eames was sitting close to Saito, who had passed out in his seat, the wound on his chest bleeding through Ariadne's bandages.
"Oh no, we repair his relationship with his father whilst exposing his godfather's true nature," Eames explained to Ariadne as they passed each other PASIV lines and carefully secured them to their arms for the long and bumpy ride. They also used sets of straps attached to their cushioned seats to keep them in place- it wouldn't do to accidentally wake up on the first level because of Yusuf's driving simulating an early kick. "We should charge Fischer a lot more than Saito for this job!"
"What about his security?" Arthur asked as he fixed his own line. "It's only gonna get worse as we go deeper."
Cobb refused to make eye contact, pretending to be more interested in fixing his line.
"I think we run with Mr. Charles."
"No."
Cobb shrugged off Arthur's quick denial of the plan and changed tactics. "Fine, we'll run with Sir Charles."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "I said, no."
"Who's Mr. Charles? Or Sir Charles?" Eames asked Arthur, honestly curious about this bone of contention between the two dream thieves.
"It's a bad idea," Arthur answered the forger, still focusing on Cobb.
"We run with Mr. Charles like we did on the Stein job!"
Eames was enjoying this little tennis match between the point man and extractor. "You've done it before?"
"We tried it before and it didn't work! The subject realized that he was dreaming and then his subconscious tore us to pieces!"
"Excellent. But you learned a lot, darling?" Eames couldn't help but ask Arthur.
Cobb went on to talk about how he needed a distraction; Eames all but raised his hand and waved.
"No problem. How about a lovely lady that I've used before?"
Whether Cobb agreed or disagreed with Eames's offer of an unplanned forgery, he turned away and opened the window of the coach to yell to Yusuf.
"Listen to me," Cobb shouted up to the chemist in the coach driver's seat. "You drive carefully, all right? Everything down there is going to be unstable as hell."
Yusuf continued to keep the horses as calm as possible while they pulled the coach, running at a steady pace so they wouldn't grow too tired. But even now, if he looked over his shoulder, he could see that this pleasant little Aleran street was going to get very crowded soon.
"Don't jump too soon," said Arthur, who windcrafted his voice to the chemist. "We only got one shot at that kick. We gotta make it."
"I'll play the music to let you know it's coming," Yusuf reminded the point man, sure that he was catching every word through the pouring rain and the sound of a few coaches beginning to pursue them. "The rest is on you. You ready?"
Cobb answered for them all, calling out, "Ready!"
Yusuf patted the PASIV case that was at his side for ease of access, strapped down to the bench so it wouldn't fall off when the ride got a little rough. He pressed the button and called to them, "Sweet dreams!"