Since I've already said my thank yous to those who reviewed, I'd now like to thank everyone who alerted and/or favorited. Very cool of you and I do hope that as we delve further into this fictional shindig that you feel comfortable enough to tell me what you think. Also, I'd like to mention that writing an Inception fic is extremely hard for me (mostly because we've got the weight of Nolan's genius hanging over our heads...) I don't want to mess it up, so if you truly think (at any point) that I'm dwindling, please, please, please tell me.

- If you liked the first chapter enough to think that a continuation is a bad idea, please do NOT read the following. Or anything else that pops up. I would hate to taint the opinion you had of it. Thank you!

Colliding Clocks

He stepped off the plane in false ease. Worked his way towards immigration in a robotic daze, only aware of his surroundings on an auto-pilot level. She was behind him, following him in almost the same manner. It was a different feeling for her, he knew. She had clocked enough time in her own dreams prior to the job, but it was different. She hadn't been shot at before. She hadn't gone three layers deep before. Then again, neither had he. But he had the preparation she didn't.

Reality told them that it had only been ten hours. Ten miserably long hours. Reality told them that everything that had happened was just a trick of the mind. The extremes they'd endured: zero gravity, a chaste kiss. None of it was real. And as he waited in line, passport in hand, just a few people ahead of her, he knew that reality was simply irrelevant.

It was a large enough airport. At least eight different immigration stations. He was up and as he briefly glanced over, so was she. He absentmindedly handed his passport and ticket over. Unlike the rest of them, he had another flight booked. Just a few hours away. It was something he'd always done. Deliberately putting time and distance between them to clear his head.

"Sir?" The woman helping him held out his passport, indicating that he needed to go.

He snapped out of the robotic daze and with a polite smile, headed out. She was now ahead of him, walking towards their future as strangers. He didn't like it much and whatever it was, he didn't want to let her leave. They hadn't had the proper discussion yet; whether it was a dream or reality, the point was that he had stepped over a line when he kissed her.

He rolled up his sleeve an inch or two to check his watch. He had two hours. Glancing up again, he felt torn between what he should do and what he wanted to do. She was fading away, however. Fading away into the crowd.

A curt nod to himself and he'd made his decision.

His stride was long in comparison to hers. Shorter than him, it made sense. He caught her arm easily. She froze instantly and he let go. She turned. He looked down at her small frame. He hadn't realized how small she really was. How impossibly tiny she was.

"I'm sorry?" she asked him, feigning confusion.

He was struck by the two words. She was already playing it off as if they were just strangers. Clearing his throat, he let it go. He was having trouble finding the words.

Worried, she nearly closed the gap between them by resting her hand on his forearm. She was concerned, he could tell by the look on her face. "Arthur?" she mumbled to him. "What is it?"

Still the silence reigned.

Until, finally, "I don't want you to go."

Her arm fell to her side. "What?"

Hesitating. He was hesitating to continue on. He knew better than most that when professional was replaced by personal, chaos ensued. "I want..." he trailed off. "I want to hear the story."

A grin. "Are you sure?" The implication was clear; it was more than just a story. It was so much more than asking to hear an outdated story.

He nodded. "Yes." His watch felt a little bit heavier on his wrist, as if the inanimate object knew better than he did that he was quite easily going to miss his flight.

He didn't care.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many answers he wanted. It was an eager kind of desire; a simple desire that verged nearly on obsession. He simply wanted to know her truths, but he wanted them offered to him. He didn't want to just take them. His patience was frail as he waited for her to set her coffee mug down.

"How old were you?" he asked.

"Seven." She smiled shyly at him. "It was Christmas Eve and my parents wanted us - "

His head turned at 'us'. She had siblings, then. He stored the information away for another question.

" - to make these gingerbread houses, y'know. And I just went crazy." Her eyelids fluttered to a close, and she found herself swimming in old memories. "I made this elaborate, but God-awful structure. I don't think you could call it a house, really. But I loved that we were able to design something all our own. Something no one else had seen. That's just about the time that I decided that I wanted to construct for the rest of my life."

The intimacy of her shared memory made him feel like the luckiest guy in the room. "How many siblings do you have?"

She shifted uncomfortably, the question taking her off guard. She looked to the window, watching cars float by. Her hands cupped the mug a bit tighter as she shook her head. "Tell me something about you," she insisted.

He frowned. He had treaded into territory that she wasn't willing to share with him and it stung. "What do you want to know?" he asked smoothly, taking a sip of his own coffee.

She looked up without a smile, but with an earnest look in her eyes. "Everything."

So, there you go. For now. I'm not sure if I'll start off with this scene in the next chapter, unless you guys want me to. I'm not sure how many of you are going to enjoy the rest of this, but I do hope that you'll continue to read. I've only seen Inception once and that was a few days ago...it seems like all of the other Inception writers have seen it twice or more. So, if it just so happens that I start to veer off course, a part of it can be attributed to that.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated. :)