Cobb, Eames and Yusuf were on a plane by five the next morning. Eames was irritable from the early hour of departure; he ordered three or four mimosas on the flight, and was making moves on the attendant by six. Yusuf was absorbed in a German magazine for scientist enthusiasts, drawn in by an article on chemical thought manipulation. This left Cobb alone to dwell on James and Phillipa.
He had spent four months at home before the money started running out. He had seen Phillipa enter kindergarten, and James write down the alphabet. He had taken them to a carnival. He had lived in a dream, looking at their beautiful faces every day, almost spoiling them with his rapt attention and adoration. It only hurt, sometimes, that he could see Mal in their delicate faces.
But the money had, eventually, run out. He needed a job, and unfortunately, all of his expertise lay in the field of Extraction. In two months he wouldn't be able to pay his bills – in three months they would lose the house.
Saito's request had come as a blessing and a curse. Cobb had been hunting for a job for weeks before the call came. No positions were available; Saito had cleared his charges, but he had not supplied him with any employment support or resume, and Cobb would be damned before going to work for the government again. Saito sealed the deal by claiming that this time, aside from the usual payment, he would also ensure a permanent job for the Extractor. Cobb would never have to leave his children again.
But Cobb refused. He thought Saito was traumatized by his experience in limbo; that he was paranoid and over-reactive. The best thing to do was continue to hunt for a job, make the savings last a bit longer, and avoid contact with the Japanese business owner.
Fate seemed to have other plans. After seeing Saito's white, plastered, comatose face in the picture, Cobb had taken out his totem – the first time he'd done so in months – and spun it reassuringly until it dropped.
"So, exactly what am I going to do for excitement when you officially retire?" Eames asked suddenly, glancing at Cobb over his mimosa. Cobb gave him a bewildered look. "I mean, honestly – after Inception I tried two Extraction jobs, and neither of them were any near as good as that fiasco with Fischer. Now some bloke takes a gun to Saito's subconscious and we're back on death row. It's really fascinating, the sort of things that follow you around."
"I just need to make sure the team is safe," Cobb reasoned, more to himself than Eames. "After this, the excitement ends, and I never have to dream-share again."
Cobb had seen his children's faces before leaving this time. He had hugged the close for almost five minutes, had promised the separation wouldn't be as long as the last one. James promised to grow four inches taller by the time he returned. Phillipa promised to be good if Daddy brought home a dog.
"Well, if I do get my mind Eradicated," Eames added as an after-thought. "I hope you know I'm well on blaming you."
l-l
It was eight in the morning when Ariadne awoke in her London airport hotel room. She was supposed to meet Arthur in the lobby in a half hour – in a disheveled rush, she tumbled in and out of the shower and threw on some jeans and a t-shirt. She was not concerned with appearing beautiful or even neat; she could look however she wanted, really, when she entered the dream with Arthur.
Arthur was not, of course, of the same mind. He was waiting for her in the lobby when she arrived, in a pressed buttoned shirt and tie, looking absolutely immaculate.
"Having sweet dreams, were we?" He teased gently. She was ten minutes late.
"They're about to get a lot sweeter," was her excited response. "Let's get to work."
"After you," Arthur held the lobby door open and they strode down the sidewalk towards the warehouse.
The set-up was just as they had left it the night before. The only thing missing was the silver briefcase; that, Arthur was sure to keep on his person at all times. The compounds and technology that resided in that simple carrying case were absolutely priceless.
"So… how often does this sort of job turn up?" Ariadne found herself asking. Arthur clicked open the briefcase and entered the compound into the mechanism.
"Eradication? Never. You're really getting a whimsical view of our job, Ariadne," Arthur seemed to say, almost to himself. "You're first assignment involves the first successful Inception I ever knew of, and you're second involves the very dangerous idea of Eradication."
"But… you have heard of it," Ariadne said hesitantly.
"I've heard of destroying certain parts of a subject's subconscious before," Arthur mused as he unwound the cords. "But occurrences like that always end with the dreamer being attacked by projections and expelled from the mind. I've never known anyone capable of complete Eradication."
"What is Eradication?" Ariadne asked hesitantly, sitting slowly in the lawn chair. Arthur gave a visual sweep of the warehouse to make sure all the doors and windows were still shut; they didn't want anyone walking in on their unconscious bodies while they slept.
"Eradication is the destruction of a person's subconscious – or the destruction of their dream-space," Arthur answered evenly. The idea sent a shiver through Ariadne as she lay down in the chair.
"What happens if your dream-space is destroyed?" Ariadne asked, almost terrified to hear the answer. A very subtle, strange expression came over Arthur's face as he listened to the waver in her voice. He approached her and knelt beside her with the chord, rolling back her sleeve to gain access to her wrist. He paused before inserting the link.
"The subconscious is fueled by emotion or desire. It is filled with those things we subdue – bits of information or experiences, positive or negative emotions and attachments – things we do not regard consciously, but nonetheless influence us. It's like a filter, to keep our mind balanced. When the subconscious is destroyed, the mind becomes incapable of stabilizing. It breaks."
"…and you end up like Saito…" Ariadne was shaking slightly. Arthur put both hands on her wrist, and she was surprised to feel a sense of security as his calloused fingers touched her skin.
"I don't want to tell you this to scare you. Just to make you aware," and there really was a sort of apology in his voice. "And I don't want you to worry. I'll be with you whenever you go under."
This simple statement made a very warm feeling wash over Ariadne. She remembered the first layer of Inception, when they had kidnapped Fischer, and been assaulted by his projections; Arthur had not missed a step, had not panicked for a moment. He had done what he had to, without hesitation. She remembered watching him slam the taxi in reverse to capture a projection, to protect Fischer and Saito and Eames; she remembered him pulling Saito from the car with blood pooling down his chest; the way he loaded the automatic and strode towards the window to lay down cover fire; the cool, calculated way he rigged the explosives in the hotel room.
Eames seemed to see Arthur as an unimaginative, unfeeling sort. Everyone credited his involvement, but seemed to miss his absolute importance to the team. He was not the leader like Cobb, not the creator like Ariadne was - but he was the steady hand that kept the team together, that held everything in check even when the job went to hell, that stabilized and guided the varying instability of the others. He was an analyst and a soldier – selfless, absolute, who placed the rest of the team above himself. She looked at him and felt safe. He seemed infallible; fearless.
"I'll see you in a minute," he said, and slid the cord into her wrist. He laid down in the lawn chair beside her, inserting his own cord. Then he reached down and pressed the release in the silver suitcase.