AN: Many thanks to silver-nightstorm, Mishi-boo and LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX for reviewing, and also thank you for those who followed and faved. :')

Disclaimer: Inception belongs to Christopher Nolan and Warner Bros.

The Absolute Basic

Chapter Three

"You look exhausted," Arthur commented, shoving her suitcase in the back of the gleaming white Jaguar parked neatly in Heathrow car park. It was late in the morning, but a chill seemed to haunt the people and their city.

Arthur watched Clara give him a grateful smile before she climbed into the back seat of the roomy car. She was wearing navy leggings and a simple shirt, and looked much too underdressed for London's weather. The tip of her nose was pink, and her lips were quivering as she spoke. Arthur chuckled quietly; October in London was not the same thing as October in Hong Kong.

"I am," Clara replied as Arthur settled into the passenger's seat and Eames climbed behind the steering wheel. The doors shut simultaneously.

Arthur twisted around in the front passenger's seat and took a good, long look at Clara. He smiled, trying not to make it seem like he was scrutinizing her, but he supposed, in a sense, that that was exactly what he was doing. It had simply been so long since they had last met. Although this was the norm in Arthur's line of work, to see people come and go, the nature in which Clara had left them all had been much too sudden for any form of preparation. Especially for the man sitting silently in the driver's seat.

The Pointman could still remember that funny little night. He had been at a quaint little pub with just a glass of brandy and had caught the eye of one of Clara's bubbly (and attractive) friends. He had flirted a bit - something he did much too rarely - but Clara had cared for none of it, and that had shut him up a little. Instead, he had asked her about her studies, about her course, and talking to her was a bit like talking to a ghost of his own past. He couldn't have been that much older than her, but he had been surprised by both the simplicity and maturity of the girl before him. For one, she had refused any sort of alcohol on that night-out, and despite his badgering, she had refused to explain why. Her reluctance and strict demeanour had somehow pushed Arthur into giving his number and getting hers, and things had simply led on from that.

"Stop staring at me," Clara said indignantly. She looked at Arthur through stray strands of auburn-brown hair that reminded one of crisp, autumn leaves.

"Did you dye your hair?" he asked.

"What? No."

"Really? It looks redder than before."

Clara gave him an exasperated look. "It's always been like this."

"It looks redder. Don't you think so?" Arthur mused, and he turned to Eames, who had not stirred at all and was staring out of the windshield.

Arthur had never been so talkative in his entire life, but here he was, trying to get some conversation flowing forcing a bridge over the awkward river that was filling the car second by second. Or perhaps he was just imagining things. Both of them were quiet, but at least civilised and calm. Arthur was the one getting worked up. Worst of all, he felt like a damn fool for doing so, but a gnawing part of him insisted it was necessary. Etiquette, even. He glared at the side of Eames stubbled face, daring those deep-set grey eyes to turn this way and look at the woman behind him. "Eames?" he prompted, and though only a second had passed after his initial question, it might as well have been a whole four years.

Eames shot him an odd look before turning round in the seat and grinning at Clara. "I dunno. Looks the same as before, darling," he said to Arthur, and his eyes quickly darted back to the steering wheel. He turned on the ignition. "Let's get going, shall we?"

Arthur gave Clara an apologetic glance, then mentally slapped himself for it. Why was he feeling this obnoxious need to fill in the gaping void between these two people? The car started and rolled forward, Eames spinning the wheel smoothly and guiding it toward the exit ramp. Arthur ran his fingers lightly over his jaw. He watched as Heathrow slipped away and they joined the stream of cars onto the motorway heading toward the heart of London.

Arthur had never really understood what had happened between Eames and Clara. In the several jobs they had executed together, he had watched the pair's relationship (Eames had always hated the word) grow and twist and eventually disintegrate. Maybe there was unrequited love in there (though Arthur had never seen Eames as someone who was partial to love), or perhaps Eames had tried something risky and Clara had learned to resent him for it. Either way, Arthur knew it was not going to be a simple matter of forgetting and moving on. He sometimes blamed himself for their current dispute and silence. After all, he had been the one to introduce them to each other. Without Arthur being the tying string, these two individuals would never had met.

And maybe that was why he was in this position of trying to force some light-heartedness into the situation. Arthur felt responsible. He always did, nowadays, to a certain extent. It must have rubbed off from Dom, who had always been the natural leader. Arthur was independent and quick, but Dominic Cobb had that special touch about him. It might have been down to something as irrelevant as age, but that was all it took to make Dom a much better leader than Arthur would ever be.

As if she was reading his mind, Clara suddenly piped up, "So, Inception. You and Cobb finally did it?"

"Yes, we all did," Arthur replied. Cars whooshed and zoomed past them at dangerous speeds. "We had a team of six."

"What?" Clara sounded incredulous. "That many? But an Extraction takes about-"

"Three, yes. But this is Inception we're talking about here. We needed Dreamers on each of the levels in order to plant the idea deep enough."

"Wait...so how many levels did you go down to?"

"Three. Four if you include Limbo." At this Arthur gave a little chuckle.

"My God," breathed Clara, looking deeply engaged. "What idea did you guys have to plant?"

"We needed to convince a young man called Robert Fischer to destroy his dying father's company," said Eames.

Arthur watched Clara turn to Eames in the rear-view mirror. There was fascination and hesitation in her eyes. "You were part of the team?"

"You bet," replied Eames, eyes never wandering from the car ahead.

"Oh, when?"

"Six, seven months ago?" He looked to Arthur for confirmation, and Arthur nodded.

"But," Clara continued, sounding a little confused, "but you tried before, right? What made this one successful?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Eames grin a little and say, "All will be explained after we get there."

"Get where?"

"Get to our boss. We're going to the briefing now."

The road they were traveling down was lined on one side with magnificent office buildings, beneath which people in long dark coats walked in almost robotic precision. To their left was the River Thames, winding its way through the city. They were in the bustling home of London's most successful businesses and clients. Clara could almost smell the innovation and money behind those shining doors. She had read about the development of this place: Canary Wharf. It was truly impressive. She tipped her head back in the car to stare up the buildings.

"We're here," Eames announced, pulling into smaller path that led into an underground car park. He brought the car into the car park but seemed to have trouble looking for their allocated meeting place, and was asking Arthur for directions.

"I thought you knew where we were going," said Arthur, annoyed.

"Forgive your forgetful pet," Eames replied in a playful voice.

Arthur rolled his eyes, then gestured impatiently. "That way, you idiot."

"Merci." Eames steered the car toward the ramp to go to the floor below.

Clara had not dared look up into Eames' eyes. She didn't want him to see that she was really, really struggling. She was already having second thoughts. Part of the reason she had given up on the addictive but illegal side of Extractions and jobs was because of the man chuckling behind the steering wheel. She gripped the hem of her shirt and willed herself to remain calm. She was going to meet her new employer, and she didn't want to leave a bad impression.

Besides, Eames didn't seem all that bothered by her presence, so why should she be affected by his? She had expected him to try something, or to pose hurtful questions that would really just get them nowhere. She had expected a commotion. But no. He had been fairly distant and removed when Arthur had dragged her suitcase along to the car. Maybe he was just giving her some space. It hardly looked like he was remorsing in his own little head. And, anyway, he was opening up to her bit by bit as the day went by, talking to her and answering questions. He seemed able to keep himself in check, and it wasn't like they were completely shunning each other. They were grownups. He knew what he had to do, and he also knew what he had done all those years ago.

Stop blaming him. He didn't do anything. You just ran away one day and he was trying to find you and-

But she didn't feel like defending Eames at the moment.

At last, the Jaguar rolled up next to a door presumably leading to the elevators. Eames pulled out the key with a swift yank and pocketed it, looking over his shoulder at Clara. "Ready?"

She tried not to stare. "Yeah. Tired, but ready."

Arthur smiled encouragingly back at her. "You'll be a great leader."

Clara sighed. "Guys, this is a team effort, and by the sounds of it Inception seems to require helluva lot more teamwork than the jobs we did." She paused, allowing herself a pensive second before she continued, "Wouldn't it be easier if Cobb led this one? Why isn't he here?"

"He's back with his kids in the States, and he wants to forget the dreams. Entirely," said Eames, fixing the light purple shirt beneath his tweed jacket. "Shame, really."

"He was always the family man," Clara murmured.

"Well, a lot happened after you left. Things got complicated and Dom couldn't get back to his kids for a good while," Arthur explained.

"What happened?"

"Mal died," Eames muttered, just as the door leading to the elevators opened and a young man stepped into the dreary car park, followed by two burly men who appeared to be bodyguards.

"What?!"

"Shh, enough," Arthur silenced. "We'll tell you later."

The trio stepped out of the car and walked slowly toward the suited men. Clara guessed that the blond man who looked in charge was in his early-thirties. She had expected someone older. It was uncommon to see a younger person in a position of great power. She eyed the grim bodyguards in their black suits with caution.

"Stand straight with your arms out while we inspect you for any hidden devices or weapons," the blond man started bluntly, in a crisp English accent, as Clara stopped before them. She did as she was told, raising her arms shoulder level and trying not to kick at the tall man who frisked her thoroughly. This was obviously a covert affair, and she guessed that not all of this company's members approved of what was about to happen.

"You do not need to know my name," the man continued once the bodyguards returned to his side; Clara noticed him grip the folders he was holding with more force. She took a small side-step toward Arthur. "I will be known as Marcus from now on. I represent one of the leading heads of our hotel management company, Golden Clover Hotels. You will not attempt to contact said person, you will only confer with me. Understood?"

There was silence, until Arthur nudged Clara in the ribs. She had already forgotten she was meant to be in charge of this team. "Yes. Sorry."

Marcus narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. "You know why you are here. You perform your task, and our company will pay you grandly. No questions asked."

"We understand."

Marcus sighed, then went on in an authoritative voice, "As you probably know, Golden Clover Hotels have resorts and inns all over the world. We are an international brand with high standards and expectations. We serve millions of important clients on a daily basis. And, as is the way of life, there is competition. There are two other hotel names, our major rivals, that have been growing steadily over the years, and although we are (fairly) confident we would succeed in the long-run, we do want to keep the money rolling in quickly at the end of each month." He let out a dry chuckle.

"Hear, hear," Eames interjected. Clara didn't know if she should laugh or slap him.

"Recently, we have heard talk about these two hotels forming a merger. This would allow their companies to become a powerful multinational force, like us." Marcus eyed them carefully, speaking deliberately slower. "However, this is exactly what we want them to do."

Clara could hear the surprise in Arthur's voice: "You want your two biggest rivals to join up together?"

Marcus dismissed the question and went on with his speech as if Arthur had not interrupted. "We already have inside information that carrying out this merger will be time-consuming and will use up resources. It will be new to them, a trial run. This merger is not a particularly good deal to either side, and will eventually fall apart. These two names will only be a nuisance to each other if they attempted to cooperate. Roles will have to be redistributed, and arguments will entail. Each of their CEOs will fight for the reign. They will lose clients, investors and respect. And while all this happens, our hotel will maintain a pristine reputation of being independent and capable. No one will ever suspect us." Marcus tilted his head up ever so slightly. "We will be dominant while they crumble and waste."

"Fair enough. So what's the problem?" asked Clara.

"The problem we face is that the CEO of one of these hotels is reluctant to agree to the merger. We do not know why." Marcus held out the files for Clara to take. "We need you to implant the idea into this CEO's mind that going with the merger will be the best thing that will ever happened to their company." Another dry chuckle. "But, of course, time will prove otherwise."

Clara tucked the files under her arm. "You're in safe hands."

Marcus nodded, then gestured at the three of them. "Is this your entire team?"

Clara glanced at Arthur, and he shook his head. "We'll be done recruiting soon," Arthur supplied.

Marcus' gaze swept them all. He turned and opened the door. "You have until the end of November to finish the job."

AN: And that's another chapter! Hope you all liked it .3."