Author's Note: I kinda left this chapter until last minute, so it took forever to write and therefore it's slightly less edited. My apologies, I take full accountability for all the mistakes I've undoubtlessly made. Regardless, please read, I hope you'll enjoy!
Disclaimer: Inception's rights don't belong to me.
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Chapter Ten
They were standing at the top of the same snow-covered mountain as before, looking down at the medial centre from a long way away. The snow and the wind billowed around them, making it hard to see or hear anything. But doing his best to see through his ski goggles, Eames found everything to be exactly the same as in the inception; Fischer's subconscious had remembered.
"Why am I back here? How is this possible?"
Eames felt his heart drop slightly at the sound of Fischer's aggressive words. Their plan had been to allow Fischer's projections to take Fischer back inside the safety of their guarded complex and then follow him inside. But now they would have to change everything because Fischer had remembered too much; he'd remembered everything. He would think he was in Browning's mind as he had before, and he would think his projections were targeting him, not just the others.
"Relax, Mr. Fischer, relax," Eames said quickly, putting a hand on Fischer's arm. He looked to Arthur, but Arthur was distracted, taking in all of the aspects of the dream scape. "Do you remember me?"
Fischer's eyes focussed on his face for a moment, then he nodded. "You're with Mr. Charles." His eyes flicked briefly to Arthur, and he frowned for a moment as he tried to place the less-familiar face. "You both are. Where is he? What's happening?"
"You don't remember?" Eames said, his voice raised over the wind. "When you were here last time, what you found in Browning's mind was actually what he wanted you to find. It was what he planted there for you to discover, an idea he wanted you to have. Do you remember any of this?"
Fischer shook his head, his face slightly angry with confusion.
"Short-term memory loss can be a side-effect for people unaccustomed to dream-sharing," Arthur lied quickly, raising his voice as well.
"You're saying he planted an- an inception in my mind?" Fischer asked. "Is that even possible?"
"Apparently," Eames said. "But that's why you're back under again, you remember? You wanted to find the truth, the real truth this time, that Browning's been hiding from you."
Fischer nodded, licking his lips nervously, quick to accept the truth from what he assumed were his own projections. "Where are Mr. Charles and the others?"
"Those projections died the last time we were here, Browning's subconscious killed them. You have to listen to us, now, Mr. Fischer; we're the only ones left."
Fischer nodded again, looking more uneasy. "Alright, what's the plan?"
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Eames had been quick to brief them both on the layout of the level, but it took longer for Eames and Arthur to come up with a new plan. All the while they were talking amongst themselves, Fischer's eyes were on them, suspicious. They decided Eames' job would be similar to the inception; to divert the projections away from the complex and then double back and meet them there. Meanwhile, Arthur and Fisher would rappell their way down the side of the mountain as Fischer and Saito had initially unsuccessfully attempted to do. It was a longer, though safer route, and it out of sight of the projections so out of Eames' way and worries, as well. The last thing they wanted was for anything to happen to Fischer like it had in the inception.
Arthur was quick to brief Fischer on the rest of their plan as they began to make their way down the face of the mountain. They didn't want to risk cutting through the ventilation again as it would be more heavily guarded, as Fischer's projections would remember their route through there from the inception.
Meanwhile, Eames took a more direct route to the medical centre. He didn't bother trying the flare again; he knew the projections wouldn't fall for it this time. He skied down to a thicket of trees as close as he dared to the complex before sliding to a stop and diving to his stomach before he could be spotted. Taking out his sniper, he positioned it, feeling the freezing snow against his chin as he lay flat-out, camouflaged in the snow, picking a target.
"Alright, I'm ready," he muttered into the intercom and heard a muffled reply from Arthur of their positioning. It would probably take them a couple of hours to make their way down into the complex.
Cutting off the feed-back from the walkie talkie, Eames focussed once more on his sniper. A carefully aimed shot brought the first projection down at the top of the south tower. The bullet hit him between the eyes and he couldn't call out as he was killed instantly. No one saw him. Eames quickly continued, picking off projections easily in the more remote spots where they weren't in immediate sight of the others. Finally though, one bullet wasn't perfectly aimed and the impact caused the victim to topple forward over the railing of one of the towers. He yelled as he fell before hitting the ground and remaining motionless. All around, men were turning in alarm, yelling to one another. Eames swore quietly, burrowing deeper within the snow as he saw the snipers going to their guns to survey the area. His shots went faster now, less carefully as he hurriedly took out the snipers before they could spot him. He saw men suddenly gesturing at one another frantically, and about half of them jumped onto their skidoos and jeeps, taking off towards him. A few bullets suddenly peppered the snow and trees around him, but he was too well protected for any to make contact. Spotting the opposing sniper, he easily shot the man down before hastily checking for anymore of them he hadn't taken out. The few remaining projections could certainly just pick up the guns, but he was ready to risk that they wouldn't be able to aim them well enough to be a serious threat.
Satisfied with his work, he stood up hurriedly as the mixture of armed vehicles and skiers drew closer, nearly within range. He turned and took off away from them, down the mountain, skiing in and out between the trees, leading them away from the complex and away from Fischer.
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Cobb sank back on his heels in relief as Arthur and Eames went under. Despite what he had told the others, he knew Mal was in the hotel somewhere and he needed to find her. He didn't know what was happening, and the fact that he just didn't know what was happening to her was what was scaring him the most.
He checked the sleepers a last time, then left the shower area and exited the change room through the main area. He checked the door to make sure it was locked, then hesitated, not sure what to do. There were three possibilities. Either Mal hadn't been able to go under with them and hadn't followed him down of her own accord (which he doubted), or else she had been gunned down or detained by Fischer's projections (which he also doubted, seeing as she didn't seem to ever draw the fire from any projections during dream-sharing). He didn't want to consider his final option, but when it all boiled down, it was what he realized he had to contemplate: that Mal had turned her back on them.
The hallway was deserted. None of the projections knew where Fischer was, and the sleepers wouldn't be found until the rooms in this hallway were searched for them. Undecided, Cobb stood outside the door to the change-room, torn between staying near the dreamers and wanting to check room 825 to verify Mal wasn't waiting for them up there.
He heard a door at the far end of the hallway by the elevators open, and turned to see a young girl with long blonde hair pressing the button to call the elevator. With a jolt of his stomach, Cobb recognized Philippa. But he didn't understand what that could mean.
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Arthur and Fischer continued along the face of the mountain, making their way down now as they neared the complex. Arthur guessed it had taken them at least a couple of hours to reach where they had now, and his arms were aching as a result of the exertion from the rapelling. On the other hand though, his knee only twinged occasionally as he was able to allow his other leg to do most of the work, the majority of his weight being held by the cable attached to his waist. He glanced down at Fischer below him to check how he was faring.
"Why can't we just go in the way we did last time?" Fischer yelled up at him, drained and fed-up. Arthur didn't bother to reply as they continued making their way down.
He could see the medical centre below them, all of the projections' attention diverted on searching for Eames. None of them were expecting anyone to enter the hospital from behind along the cliff face. They had nearly made it.
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Ariadne hurriedly picked up the radio, searching for the talk button. "This is subway train 0491," she stuttered quickly, her voice slightly higher than usual. "Uh, apologies, that was a mistaken emergency call. Everything's fine."
There was a slightly crackling at the other end, before a man's voice continued. "This is subway train 0491?"
"Y-yes."
"Which conductor is this?"
"Mallorie Brookes," she said the first name that popped into her head. "I'm new."
There was a pause at the other end. "We don't have you listed under this subway train number, Mallorie," the man said. "What's your identification number?"
Ariadne felt her heart sink slightly. "I haven't gotten one yet."
"We're going to have to ask you to stop the train at the next station, Mallorie." the voice said. "If you fail to do so, an automatic stop will occur. Emergency measures are once again being taken."
The line went dead. Ariadne stared at the radio blankly for a moment, then panic hit her. She checked her watch. It would be another three or four minutes before they hit the track where the explosives were and there would be probably be two more stops before they reached there.
She turned and sprinted from the cubicle, past the sleepers, back down all of the cars until she reached the back one, sprinting to get there before they reached the next stop. She burst in, her gun raised, out of breath.
"Where's the conductor?" she shouted, and the car fell silent.
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Eames was exhausted from skiing. He had lost sight of the projections nearly ten minutes ago, but he could still hear the constant sound of the jeeps and skidoos behind him. They were still on his trail, which he had to remind himself was a good thing.
He dropped an explosive as he skied, the fifth he had dropped so far. He'd been leaving a trail of them in the snow as he'd gone along, a hope that they would deter the projections once he set them off and headed back to the fortress.
He threw a timed explosive down the hill and then took a sharp turn behind a small ravine where the snow somewhat hid him from sight. As the sound of his skis on the snow and the rush of wind in his ears faded he made out Arthur's voice hastily coming in through his walkie talkie.
"Eames. Are you there?"
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Yeah, I'm here, what is it?"
"We're just about in. You need to get back, now. Are you near by?"
A jeep and several skiers suddenly whirred past him, following his trail. His most recent explosive went off, causing a small avalanche of snow further down the mountain. The projections headed for it, yelling at one another. Several skidoos followed along with another jeep.
"I lost track of time," Eames replied. "I'll be there."
"Good luck."
Eames shut the device off again, then focussed as several more skidoos drove past him, unknowing. He spotted one further up the hill, trailing the others slightly. Seeing his luck and remembering how easily he had done it in the inception, he braced himself, timing it carefully.
He jumped out slightly too early this time and the skidoo nearly hit him. The driver swerved instinctively, before realizing who he was and doubling around, raising his gun. Eames shot him once and he fell from the skidoo. The skidoo barrelled into a snow bank and whirred to a stop. The projection made to get up, but Eames jumped on him before he could, a well-aimed punch to the side of the head knocking the driver out.
Looking around for more projections, Eames couldn't spot any above them and assumed that this driver was the last in line of the convoy. Hastily dragging the driver over to the skidoo, he swapped outer clothing with the unconscious man, disguising himself temporarily as a part of the small army. He knew the other projections would be able to sense it if they looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, but for at least the start, it might give him an edge.
He checked the skidoo over, and although it was damaged from hitting the snowbank, it seemed temporarily able to work alright. Gunning it back to the complex, he glanced back over his shoulder at the projections searching the mountain below him. He pressed one of the detonators, and one of the explosives he had dropped went off. It had rolled down the mountain a good way from where he had dropped it, and to his relief he saw the convoy heading for the explosion. He had been worried that they wouldn't fall for it again, but it seemed Fischer's subconscious wasn't as smart as many gave it credit for.
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Arthur hurried Fischer into the complex through an unguarded back door. The projections hadn't assumed anyone would be able to get in that way, and seeing as they were once again missing the majority of their army, they had left that area of the fortress unguarded.
"Go, go," Arthur muttered as they rushed inside. He reached for his intercom. "Eames, are you in?"
"Yeah, just about," Eames voice came back. "I need another couple of minutes or so. Is Fischer safe?"
"Yeah, he's here. Hurry."
"I have been."
Arthur picked up the unmistakable annoyance in Eames' voice before he switched his intercom off. Fischer's eyes were on him when he looked up.
"What're we doing? We're inside now, what're we waiting for?" Fischer demanded.
"He's just clearing our route," Arthur replied. "The projections will be guarding the safe; he's taking care of them."
Fischer nodded, but he still didn't look entirely at ease.
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"Hey! Philippa!" Cobb called as the doors to the elevator opened. He ran down the hallway as Philippa stepped into the elevator, not looking back at him. The doors began to close and he full-out sprinted to close the gap between him and the elevator as Philippa didn't hold the door. He managed to slip through them just as they shut. He grabbed the girl's arm, panting, but when she wheeled around in surprise he didn't recognize the face. It wasn't his daughter.
"Oui, monsieur?" She didn't even speak English.
Cobb stared at her blankly for a moment, before hastily letting go of her arm. "Pardon."
She backed away from him quickly and the ride up to the eighth floor was agony as she stared at him wide-eyed all the way up. She stepped out and hurried down the hallway away from him, glancing back at him frequently as he, too, stepped out on that level. He did his best to ignore her and made his way to room 825. Grasping hold of the door handle, he took a breath and muttered a silent prayer before shoving the door open.
The room was completely empty of anyone or anything unusual. "Mal?" He stepped in and checked the bathroom and walk-in closet to make sure. No one was there. Gritting his teeth, he made his way back to the elevators outside. As he waited for the lift to arrive, he saw the door to a room open and the same girl poke her head out. She saw him and hastily shut the door again, retreating back into the room. A second later, the door opened once more and a tall, blond man stepped out.
"Hey!"the man called as Cobb hastily stepped into the elevator and waited for the doors to close. The man reached for something inside his jacket, but before he could even touch it Cobb had shot him down with one well-aimed bullet. The ding of the doors beginning to shut mixed with the sound of the girl's scream from inside the room. A half dozen projections came charging around a corner and out of various rooms at the sound of the shot, all with their weapons raised, but before either they or Cobb could fire the elevator doors shut completely and he was going down.
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Eames set off the second detonator as his skidoo pulled up close to the complex. The explosive he had originally left in the thicket of trees went off and he saw many of the remaining projections yelling to one another uneasily, their minds diverted temporarily from the soul skidoo that had just pulled up. The rest of their men were all too far away to come back to immediately help, so in the end, a third of the remaining men headed off rapidly to check out the explosion.
Eames used the chaos to run for the steel rung ladder nearly the middle of the fortress. He hastily began to climb it, heading up to the level where he knew Fischer's safe was.
There were only a few projections walking around the outside ledge leading into the room, but as he scrambled onto it off the ladder, they all simultaneously focussed on him, bringing their guns up.
He lunged at one of them before the man could shoot, punching him, but the man rolled on top of him, getting the advantage. He felt the man's fist make contact with his cheek, splitting his lip as gunshots rang out from the other projections. They rained down around him, only narrowly missing. One making contact with the man on top of him and he went slack.
Not immediately pushing the man off him, Eames grabbed for his gun, continuing to use the body as a shield. He managed to bring the weapon up and shot the second projection as he finally shoved the first's weight off of himself.
The third projection was busy on his radio, backing away hastily from Eames as he continued talking into the intercom. "The intruder's made his way into the complex. Immediate back-up, repeat–"
Eames brought the butt-end of his rifle up and hit the man hard. The man fell back over the railing to the ground below, and Eames didn't check to see what happened as he turned and hurriedly made his way indoors. He was already preparing to forge himself into Maurice as he entered the room to Fischer's vault, so he didn't spot the final projection making his way around from the opposite side of the ledge after him.
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Slightly shaken, unable to rid his head of the image of the young girl, Cobb checked his watch, calculating. It had been nearly twelve minutes now since the sleepers had gone under, which would have given them approximately four hours the next level down. The projections would be after him now, but they didn't know where the sleepers were. They wouldn't know what floor he was going to... unless the girl told them what level he might be going back to. Then his head snapped up as he remembered a final factor. Mal knew everything he knew, which meant if she had indeed turned on them, she would know exactly where to find the Fisher, Eames and Arthur, helpless while they were asleep. Perhaps that little girl hadn't been as much of a coincidence as he thought. He jabbed impatiently at the level to the basement, urging the elevator to speed up but it did the opposite. It slid to a stop on level one, and when the doors dinged open Cobb found himself face to face with a dozen of Fischer's projections.
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Another chapter up and done! I find the snow level I wrote to be a lot more similar to the movie, and I'm sorry for that, I just found it hard to add more variety to that level. But anyway, I really hope you enjoyed reading, and I would absolutely love to hear from you!
~kat