Author's Note: Hey guys, I really want to thank Kitty Quasar again for your awesome reviews, and Echo101. They really make my day, please keep them coming! I hope you enjoy!
Diclaimer: I don't own any aspect of Inception.
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Chapter Three
Eames didn't arrive until late afternoon the next day. Cobb spent the most of the time pacing his hotel suite or the meeting room, his mind unable to stay focused on any one subject for any length of time. He phoned Miles around noon to better explain what was happening, but he found that the number had been blocked. He considered contacting him or Marie an alternative way, but he didn't want to risk it. He got Browning's message: he couldn't see or, apparently now, talk to them in anyway before the job was done.
Cobb finally gave up his work around six o'clock in the evening after a very long and restless day. He turned into the lobby to the elevators, planning to return to his room when he spotted a familiar figure trudging in through the front doors of The Duke and Duchess, a suitcase in one hand and an air of mal-humour on his face.
"You took your time," Cobb said, walking over to meet Eames.
"I was in the middle of a perfectly lovely time with a charming lady," Eames replied, annoyed. "So excuse me for not dropping everything to meet you here."
"I'm sorry; I wouldn't have contacted you if it wasn't important," Cobb said, leading the way back to the elevators.
Eames was dressed in a dark brown leather jacket, collared shirt and dark pants, the slight bags under his eyes and his foul mood the only sign he had been traveling. He wheeled his suitcase behind them and its wheels made a smooth, deep rolling sound against the marble floor as they walked.
An elevator opened with a ding as they neared it, and a middle-aged woman stepped out. Cobb and Eames strode in before the doors could close again and Cobb jabbed the button for the ninth floor. "How's Vegas?" he asked conversationally.
"Satisfactory. I was thrown out just before you called, lucky for you."
"They've improved their security, then?" Cobb said.
"Counting cards isn't as simple as it once was," Eames replied. "Neither is forging chips."
"As long as you're sure it's the security, not you."
"Surprisingly, I don't think I'm the one we should be worrying about right now," Eames replied in a falsely polite voice.
Cobb looked away as the doors slid open. He could feel a headache coming on. He supposed he deserved Eames' mood in some ways. They walked down the hallway to his room and he swiped his key card through the slit to unlock the door.
He sensed Eames' approval as they stepped into the suite. "Well at least they're putting us up in a nice place," he said, leaving his suitcase by the door and stretching his arms back with a crack.
Cobb grabbed one of the spare key cards from the polished counter of the kitchen and tossed it to Eames who was walking around, taking in the suite, his temper immediately improved at the sight of the comfortable dwellings. "Your room is number 923, across the hallway from this one. Have you eaten?"
"I had a sandwich on the train over," Eames replied, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it across the room to where it landed near his suitcase. "But I'd never say no to a drink," he added with a half-smile, heading over to Cobb's mini-bar and helping himself. "Do you want anything?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Right," Eames said, heading over to a leather armchair by the window with a bag of cashews in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other. He sank into the leather and tilted the chair back, his legs stretched out on the footrest. "Now what's this all about?"
Cobb sighed, rubbing his hand across his eyes. "I was hoping to wait until Arthur shows up to tell you both."
"I'm the only one here so far then, am I?" Eames asked, tearing open the bag of nuts.
"Yes." Cobb walked over to stand by the window, looking out into the street below. "Arthur's in Austria."
"Is Ariadne with him?"
"I don't think so."
Eames raised an eyebrow at him rather disbelievingly, smiling slightly.
"Arthur said she was in Paris," Cobb added, turning to face Eames, his hands in his pockets. "But either way, it's irrelevant. I was planning on being the architect."
Eames frowned slightly. "You sure you're ready for that?" he asked around a few cashews in his mouth.
"Well we'll just have to see, won't we," Cobb replied.
Eames decided not to press the subject. As Cobb said, once they got into the dreamscapes once more to practice and plan, it would hopefully become obvious whether Cobb was still haunted by Mal or not.
"Are we going to need a chemist?"
"I don't know yet. I was planning on discussing that with you and Arthur tomorrow."
Eames nodded with a shrug. "Right-on, well then I'm going to unpack," he said, standing up and heading for the door.
"Our workshop is on the main floor," Cobb called as Eames stuffed the nuts in his right pants pocket and the still unopened bottle of rum in his left. "Meeting Room A. Take one of the spare keys by the door."
Eames nodded, reaching for the plastic. He threw his jacket over his shoulder, grabbed his suitcase and opened the door. "I'll see you in the morning, then. I've a call to make."
"You didn't tell her you were leaving Vegas, then?"
Eames smiled. "You know me too well," he said, stepping out into the hallway. "It wouldn't hurt you to have a love-life again."
Cobb immediately felt a barrier go up. "Goodnight, Eames," he said. "Good luck with—what was her name?"
"Haven't the foggiest," Eames said as he closed the door.
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The next morning, Cobb was woken abnormally early by dreams of Mal. He jerked awake and stared at the ceiling for several long moments, taken aback. He wasn't really startled about seeing Mal in his dreams; he was startled that he was having dreams in general. He hadn't dreamt in years.
He frowned, sitting up and propping himself up on one elbow. It had only been several weeks now since the inception job; several weeks since he had been hooked up to the PASIV. He had taken breaks from extraction this long before, but his dreams had never returned this quickly before. He wondered for a moment whether it was because he had finally begun to accept his life, retired from extraction, which had begun his natural dreaming process once more. Yet here he was, about to delve right back into peoples' dreams.
He stood up and stretched. He was used to having so much happen over the course of a few days, but he had been hoping he would never have to deal with this sort of thing again. He put on the coffee, had a quick shower and got dressed in black dress pants and a dark red button-up shirt. He quickly worked some gel into his hair to keep it back out of his face and eyes and was heading back into the kitchen to pour some coffee when he heard a soft rapping at the door.
He frowned, glancing at his watch. Eames wasn't one to get up this early in the morning.
He strode over and opened the door a slit, peering out into the hall and feeling relief rush through him immediately at the sight of Arthur standing, collected and professional as always, in the corridor outside his door.
He opened the door quickly. "Thanks for coming."
Arthur gave him a very brief smile and stepped into the room. "No problem." He was wearing a dark grey suite, but he had taken off his jacket and it was now slung over his arm. Apart from that, all he had on him was a leather messenger bag and a small travel bag.
He closed the door behind him as Cobb moved back into the kitchen to finish pouring his coffee.
"How early was your flight then?" Cobb asked.
"Five a.m.," Arthur replied. "But it was direct from Vienna to here. It's a nine hour time difference."
"Christ, you must be exhausted," Cobb said. "Coffee?"
"Please."
They sat down on the bar stools at the island in the tiny kitchen. Cobb looked at Arthur; his skin was slightly paler and more sallow than usual, making the dark circles under his eyes stand out more.
"Where's Eames?" Arthur asked.
"He's in the room across the hallway, probably still asleep. Do you want to grab some sleep before I brief you both? It's going to be a long day."
"I'll be fine," Arthur replied.
They made small talk for a while about Austria and how James and Philippa were doing, before Arthur finally drained his mug and Cobb gave him the key to the suite directly beside his. Arthur thanked him and left to shower and put away his things.
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The three of them headed down to the meeting room together around mid-morning, stopping by the dining room on the way down. Cobb and Arthur were quick, Cobb just grabbing some toast and Arthur some fruit, but Eames took his time, heaping his plate with sausages, bacon, and hash browns. Cobb clicked his tongue, trying not to show his impatience. On their way out of the dining room, they were stopped by a harassed-looking kitchen manager who told them that they weren't permitted to leave the room with the dishes and food. Finally noticing Cobb's rather aggressive expression, Eames slipped a bill into the woman's hand and gave her a rather charming smile, saying, "You wouldn't mind just this once, would you love? We'll bring the dishes right back."
Looking rather flustered, the woman waved them out of the room and Cobb lengthened his stride considerably as they walked to the meeting room at the other end of the hallway.
The meeting room was rather plain-looking, but quite elegant. Huge maple walls extended to a high, tiled ceiling. A chandelier hung from the top of the ceiling, hundreds of tiny lights and crystals lighting the windowless room. The floor was marble tiles, the same as in the lobby, but with a deep red, golden-trimmed carpet taking up a good deal of the middle of the room. A half-a-dozen polished tables were scattered around the room, each intended probably for about a dozen people judging by the number of chairs around each.
Eames went for the table closest to the door and unloaded his food onto it, along with his briefcase. He sat down, pulled his dish towards him and dug in. Arthur mirrored him, taking a seat across the table. Cobb sighed, also unloading his armload of things onto the table, but not sitting down. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, before beginning.
"Eradication," he said. "Browning wants us to eradicate the idea we planted in Fischer's mind."
There was a long silence that followed his statement. Cobb monitored Arthur and Eames' reactions carefully. Arthur was fairly expressionless, a barely noticeable frown creasing his forehead as he stared at the table in front of him. Eames on the other hand pushed his dish away, leaning back in his chair and wiping his lips with a napkin.
"Sorry," Eames said, clearing his throat slightly. "But wouldn't that involve going three levels deep again?"
"Theoretically," Cobb said.
"Of course it does," Arthur said. He looked up at Cobb, his eyes narrowed more noticeably now.
"Well that's an easy no-brainer then, isn't it?" Eames smiled.
"Why would you ask us to do that?" Arthur said.
"It's just a job," Cobb quickly said, his voice as calm as ever "And we wouldn't risk falling into Limbo; we wouldn't use as heavy a sedative this time."
"That's not true," said Arthur. "Don't pull that on us again."
Cobb didn't say anything. Eames shook his head slightly at the extractor. "So we both came here for nothing?"
Cobb sat down at the table, looking at the forger seriously. "You saw that figure, Eames. I'm doing this job no matter what, and it would help a lot if you were on board, too."
"Hire another thief," Eames said. "There are plenty out there."
"But not as many forgers," Cobb replied. "And none as good as you. I need you. I need you both. You're the best at what you do, and if I'm going to break into Fischer's mind to eradicate what the two of you helped plant there, I'll need the two of you to help erase it."
"Why are you doing this, Cobb?" Arthur asked. "What's in this for you?"
Cobb didn't reply. He had decided the previous day while he had been waiting for Eames that he wasn't going to tell them about his children. He wasn't sure why exactly he didn't want them to know, but it was similar to Mal's suicide. There was a very private part of him that didn't want Eames or Arthur to know, that that would only make the situation seem even more real to him than it already was. Arthur looked away in annoyance after realizing Cobb wasn't going to answer. Eames raised his eyebrows slightly.
"You're not going to tell us?" Eames asked.
"I can't."
Arthur suddenly stood up. Cobb looked up at him in surprise. "Where are you going?"
"The airport," Arthur replied, gathering his things together. "I can't do this again. If you're still keeping things from us after all this time, I don't want to have anything to do with it." He looked at Cobb, a small touch of regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry."
He strode from the room, leaving his breakfast untouched. He looked back from the door. "Call me if anything changes." The door shut softly with a click behind him.
There was a long pause as Cobb stared after Arthur with a sinking feeling in his stomach as Eames finished his food. As Eames swallowed the last piece of bacon, he grabbed his bag and stood up, as well.
"Sorry, Cobb," he said. "But just what Arthur said. You understand."
He left without another word, leaving Cobb alone in the room. Eames felt a brief twinge of sympathy for Cobb as he walked down the hallway towards the elevators, but it didn't last long. Cobb could always just hire another forger or point man, or he could just back out of the job. Eames hardly ever turned down job offers, and although he did admittedly want to work again, he wasn't about to face the stress and tension of another job with the constant danger of Limbo. Especially if they were delving into Fischer's militarized mind again.
He was back on the ninth floor, heading for his suite when the door clicked open at the end of the hallway and Arthur stepped out. He had a beige trench coat on, his overnight bag in one hand, his messenger bag over his shoulder.
"Going already, then?" Eames asked.
"There's a flight that leaves in two hours," Arthur replied.
"Wait for me, would you?" Eames said, quickly unlocking his door.
He sensed Arthur's impatience, but neither said anything as he hurriedly shoved all of his belongings into his suitcase. Soon they were standing in the lobby once more. No one was at the front desk, so they left the keys on the counter and grabbed a taxi to the airport together.
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Arthur was standing in line in front of Eames, waiting to purchase a ticket when a couple of tall, well-dressed men entered the queue behind them. One of them tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
"Excuse me sir, do you know if there's a flight to Sydney leaving soon?"
Arthur turned to dismiss the bearded man, but stopped as he suddenly felt the cool metal of the muzzle of a pistol pressed against his back. His eyes moved to spot Eames in an identical position; a burly man standing directly behind him so as to conceal the handgun against Eames' back from passers-by.
The first man lowered his mouth to Arthur's ear and Arthur didn't flinch as he felt the man's beard tickle his ear as the man whispered quietly in his ear. "Come with us quietly and don't make a scene."
The man stepped away from him, but Arthur could see the man still held his gun in a ready position inside his jacket. His own thoughts went to the handgun at the bottom of his travel bag at his feet. As if reading his thoughts, the man said softly, "Leave the bags."
The second man grasped Eames' upper arm tightly to lead him out of the airport, but Eames jerked his arm away.
"I can walk by myself, thank you," he said politely. Neither of the men replied, but neither attempted to touch either Eames or Arthur again.
They walked quickly to the nearest set of doors where two dark cars were stopped but running. The bearded man held open the door to the backseat of the first car and motioned at them.
"Get in."
Eames glanced at Arthur and the two met eyes for a split second before Eames slid into the backseat, closely followed by Arthur, neither saying anything. The bearded man sat in the front passenger seat next to the waiting driver, and the second man got into the car behind them. The two cars pulled away.
"Who are you?" Arthur asked as they got out onto the main road and began to pick up speed.
"We work for the Fischer-Morrow energy conglomerate," the bearded man replied. "Maybe you've heard of them."
Arthur and Eames made eye contact for an instant again before looking away.
"What do want from us?" Eames asked.
"Just to talk to you," the bearded man replied.
Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly. "Where are we going?"
"To visit Peter Browning."
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Hope you liked it! I'm going to have Ariadne come in later, but not for another couple of chapters. I hope all the characters are realistic, it's hard to write them. Please review! It really gives me encouragement to write. Thanks for reading!
~kat