[FIC - Inception] The Helix Trap Chapter 10/19
Fandom: Inception
Title: The Helix Trap
Chapter: 10/19 (~7,00 words) (For other parts please check my My main post)
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Eames/Robert, Arthur/Ariadne, Cobb, Yusuf, Saito, Browning, and others.
Warnings: Violence, sexual content.
Disclaimer: These characters and setting do not belong to me and are being used without permission but for no profit
Summary: After the Inception proves successful, Eames tracks down Robert out of concern for its unusual side effects. Meanwhile, Arthur is hired to a dangerous job that forces the rest of the team to take sides: whether to defend Robert and his fragile mind, or ruin him completely.
Notes: C&C Welcome and appreciated. Thanks to my beta chypie for her input!
Thanks to everyone following/commenting on this fic! It's only going to get weirder from here on out, so please lemme know if it becomes incoherent at any point XD;;
"The helix trap is actually more like a double helix," Arthur explained. "Again, not my name choice. Like I told you before, it works by splitting the subject's mind into two halves: one that remains in the dream, one that functions in reality. A feedback loop is created, where experiences in reality reflect in the dream, and visa-versa."
It was 2:30 in the morning, and Yusuf and Ariadne were seated around the card table, eating turkey chili to stay awake. "But doesn't that mean they'll eventually balance out?" Ariadne asked between bites. "If the dream changes to match what he's really seeing and experiencing, what stops it from just becoming a reflection?"
Arthur nodded to her. "You're right--normally, that is what would happen. That's why we're going to create something in the dream space that can't exist in reality, something with enough emotional attachment that he won't be able to erase it."
"His father? Oh!" She straightened. "Dr. Banks is going to forge Fischer Sr., isn't she?"
"Yes. That's the plan, anyway." Arthur started to reach for his coffee, but changed his mind and opened a bottled water instead. "She's not the best forger but Fischer's subconscious should fill in for her."
"A man hallucinating his recently passed father sounds almost too believable," Yusuf said, frowning. "Dr. Banks won't have any trouble convincing the Fischer Morrow board that he needs help."
"In order to undo it, we may have to go through his father's death again, in another dream," added Arthur. "It sounds cruel, but it's the cleanest way of doing this that I could think of."
Ariadne worried her bottom lip between her teeth. It did sound cruel, but she couldn't think of anything better, either. "All right. Then it's time to spill." She took in a deep breath and faced Arthur squarely. "How do we split him?"
Arthur leaned back. "We put him in two dreams simultaneously, by connecting him to two PASIVs at the same time."
Ariadne blinked in surprise. "But..." She glanced to Yusuf, who was almost beaming with intellectual curiosity, and wasn't sure what to think. "But it's the dreamer that makes the dream, right? Not the machine. How would that change anything?"
"Aha, that's what I thought too," Yusuf said. "And to be honest, my assistant and I tried it as soon as Charla finished explaining it to us. With two people both connected to two machines, the effect is the same as using one, because there is still only one dreamer."
"You shouldn't have been experimenting on your own like that," Arthur admonished. "You could have gotten yourselves in trouble."
"Yes, yes, but that's how progress is made, no? Anyway." Yusuf leaned his elbows on the table and looked to Ariadne. "It turns out, the trick is to have two dreamers each connect to their own device, separately, and then connect a third person to both. That third becomes the subject, who is then compelled to populate both dreams."
Ariadne's mind whirled simply thinking about it. "But how can your brain deal with all that information, especially consciously? I can't even begin to imagine how that works."
"It's extremely taxing," said Arthur, wincing.
"Well yeah of course it--wait." She squinted at him, and when he tried to look away, she caught on. "Is that why you had a headache earlier? You've been doing that? You're not--" She turned her chair towards him. "You're not doing that on the job, are you?"
"I'll have to," he replied evenly. "We won't be able to communicate between the parallel dreams otherwise."
"But this is crazy!" Ariadne looked again to Yusuf but he was no help at all.
"It's fascinating, isn't it?" he said brightly. "I knew Arthur was a skilled dreamer, but if I hadn't seen it myself I'd never have believed he could do this. It must take an extraordinary amount of focus and control." His eyes seemed to gleam. "I'm quite envious."
"This is the plan," Arthur resumed. He started to doodle a tree-like diagram on his napkin. "We're going to start with Ariadne and Nash each creating the same dream, using two different PASIVs. With both dreams being the same, Fischer's mind should populate them the same way, making it seem like one cohesive dream. That should make it easier for him to cope with it, even though he's not trained for dreamshare this complicated."
Ariadne still had reservations, but she bit them back so she could hear him out. "Okay..."
"Then your transitioning comes in. You'll make a slight change in your dream while Nash's stays the same, gradually easing Fischer's mind in two different directions. Once he seems stable, we'll take him down to level two."
"Two levels, two dreams each," Yusuf added. "That's four full dreams--only a very clear compound will make it possible."
Arthur nodded. "We wouldn't be able to do this without you," he agreed. "Anyway, in level two, Yusuf and Dr. Banks will be the dreamers. Dr. Banks will set the trap by forging Fischer Sr., and then....we spring it."
"By waking up Yusuf's half," said Ariadne. "Okay, I think I get it, but..." Her stomach knotted, made worse by Arthur's too-calm expression. "If you're going to be in both dreams just like Fischer, doesn't that mean you're going to get pulled apart too?"
At last Yusuf's expression showed some of the same concern she was feeling, but Arthur still looked resolute. "Yes," he admitted. "Which is why the timing has to be precise. Once the trap is set, I'll have to go back to level one before we wake up, or I could end up just like Fischer."
"God this is freaking me out." Ariadne forced herself to laugh to try and dispel the tension locking her up, and it worked, somewhat. "You're sure that will work, right?"
"It's how we got out last time," Arthur replied. Playing along, he smiled with her. "If anything goes wrong you'll just have to come back in and get me."
"Don't think I won't! Just so I can give you a beating." She swallowed a mouthful of chili, willing it to settle her. "I guess I'll have to really get to work, then. There's not much time left."
"Anything else we should know?" asked Yusuf.
"...Yes." Arthur pushed his bowl away so he could lean forward, fingers laced on the table. "There's something I should have told you before the last one, actually."
Here it is. Ariadne stopped eating as well so she could give him her full attention. "You mean, the fact that you had been in Fischer's mind before the inception," she said.
"Yes."
"What?" Yusuf glanced between them in alarm. "You mean, as part of the research? Or..." His eyes narrowed, and Ariadne could see him coming to the same conclusion she had earlier after overhearing the conversation with Eames. "Part of his training?"
"No," Arthur said quickly. "No, I did not train Robert Fischer." He ran a hand through his hair. "I trained his father."
The pair exchanged baffled looks. "What?"
"It was almost three years ago," Arthur explained. "Dr. Banks recommended him to me. He said at first that he wanted to be trained in subconscious defense, but when we met in person he changed his mind. He hired me to perform an extraction on his son."
"An extraction?" Ariadne repeated incredulously. "On his own son?"
Yusuf shook his head. "What were you extracting?"
Arthur's perfect composure cracked minutely. "I was never completely sure," he admitted. "He was worried that someone had gotten to Fischer already, and he wanted me to find out if there was something artificial in his subconscious mind."
"Like he had been Incepted already?"
"I don't know--I don't think so." Arthur shook his head. "To be honest, I got the impression he was simply being paranoid. In Fischer's mind we found a whole host of unhappy childhood memories. We would have had to repress half his history to make him a model son of Maurice Fischer, if that's what he really wanted. I told him I couldn't help, so I gave him some training to make up for it and left it at that."
"So wait, then Fischer--Fischer Jr.--wasn't trained?" Ariadne rubbed her face, twice as exhausted as she had been a moment ago. "Not even when you were in his mind last?"
"No." Arthur's eyes darted away from her, hiding something. "His projections were fierce, that much I found out, but only because I made a mistake and tripped them myself. They weren't organized. Fischer's father assured me he had not had any training, too. When I planned for the inception I only went back the last three years and found nothing."
Ariadne sighed. "So that's still a mystery." She watched Arthur's face closely, trying to puzzle out the missing pieces of his story. "Why didn't you tell us all this before?"
"I didn't want Cobb to know," he confessed. "He was already having a hard time reining himself in, and I knew that if I said anything, it would only distract him." He met Ariadne's gaze, and she felt as if she could feel a message seeping out of him that she was meant to interpret. "I took that job right after he first learned that I was involved in illegal dreamshare. He was still clean then--we had a fight and weren't speaking. I didn't learn anything from Fischer's mind that was useful anyway, so I figured...it wasn't worth it to bring up history like that. Not when his children were on the line."
So Dr. Banks was right. They weren't speaking...almost three years ago. Something clicked in her brain, and she had to fight to keep the revelation out of her face. She glanced quickly to Yusuf and back. "Who was with you when you tried to extract from Fischer?" she asked carefully.
"Another extractor." His spoke deliberately, and with regret she had no trouble tracing to the source. "Not someone we have to worry about now."
Yusuf shook his head. "Anything else we need to know?"
"Nothing that can't wait until morning." Arthur stretched and pushed to his feet. "I've had my nap but I'm sure you two need the rest. We can go back to planning tomorrow." He looked to Ariadne. "I'll drive you home in the morning, so you have time before your class."
"Thanks."
Yusuf watched him walk away without comment and then looked to Ariadne. "He's still hiding something," he said.
"No," Ariadne murmured. "I'm pretty sure he just told me everything."
***
When Ariadne opened her eyes the first thing she saw was her own face staring back at her: she was applying her makeup once again, in the mirror of a lavishly furnished executive washroom. Once finished she closed her eyes, feeling out the edges of her dream, making sure that every little detail was in place. Five points. Fifteen connecting tunnels. Thirty-two floors in the tower. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Arthur. Where's Arthur?
The washroom had a small sitting area with a plush sofa, and it was there that she found Arthur. He was hunched forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands, every breath carefully measured. It wasn't the first time Ariadne had seen him in such pain, thanks to their many training sessions, but she still felt a sympathy ache between her temples as she waited for him to compose himself. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah..." Arthur rubbed his hands over his eyes, the bridge of his nose, and then then down over his cheeks, as if pushing his features into their proper place. "Yes, I'm fine," he said with greater confidence, sitting up. "It feels pretty stable. You and Nash did a good job."
"So it's working?" Ariadne asked anxiously. "Fischer's filling in like you said?"
"Let's find out."
Arthur leaned back in the sofa, his gaze straightforward but unfocused. After a moment of concentration he stood, slowly, and strode into the bathroom proper. But at the same time he was still sitting on the sofa: a second Arthur had been left behind, fuzzy at the edges but unmistakably present. He stared into space, ghostlike.
Still so weird, Ariadne thought, glancing between the two Arthurs. She was tempted to poke at him, but settled instead with waving her hand in front of the copy's face.
Arthur's eyes came into focus and looked up at her. "What?"
"Oh--nothing, sorry." Ariadne smiled sheepishly, and blushed when she realized that the first Arthur was also watching her, having returned from his brief walk. "You're freaking me out."
Arthur moved in front of the sofa, and when his double stood, they merged seamlessly together once more. Ariadne got a chill. "Then it's working," he concluded. "Fischer's subconscious is fighting to keep the dreams equal, by projecting into one dream anything that's in the other."
He slipped an earpiece out of his pocket and into his ear, and Ariadne followed suit. "This is Arthur, checking in from the executive washroom," he said. "Everyone check in."
"Yusuf, in the hall outside Fischer's office," came the first reply. "I'm starting 'repairs' on Elevator B."
"Charla, standing by in the basement. Is the Mark in place?"
"Yeah, he's here." Nash cleared his throat. "I mean, this is Nash. I'm in Fischer's reception area. He's in the office."
"How does he look?" Arthur asked.
"Uhh...sick."
"Keep an eye on him. Ariadne's on her way in." He nodded to her.
She nodded back, and gave her ear a tap. "Stay in touch," she said with a faint smile. He returned it, and she started out of the bathroom. "Ariadne here, on my way to Fischer's office."
The office building stood thirty-two stories tall, as planned, and at the top floor it was mostly unoccupied. Ariadne had made sure to let Robert's office take up most of the space, along with empty conference rooms and storage, in order to cut down on the projections as much as possible. As she moved through the hall she passed only two clerks, each carrying files in one arm and handmade, paper pinwheels in the other.
That's...interesting, Ariadne thought with a frown as she slipped into Robert's office. The reception area was round and gray, with a pair of thick wooden desks facing each other like sentinels in front of Robert's door. The west wall was taken up mostly by a broad picture window that offered a breathtaking view of Nash's round Cairo, still half shadowed in the early morning hours. Ariadne glanced over the city, very pleased with her work, and took a seat behind her desk.
Nash was seated across from her, pressed and slick and intense as he too surveyed their dreamscape. When they were both satisfied they exchanged glances, and then a slow smile.
"Nicely done, Mr. Nash," Ariadne complimented.
"Nicely done yourself, Miss Ari," Nash replied.
As usual the dream had erased his scars and casts, but he wasn't entirely there: like the copy of Arthur he was blurred at the edges, leaving afterimages with every movement. We're not technically connected--I can only see him at all through Fischer, Ariadne reminded herself. Which means once Fischer's pulled apart, we'd lost contact if not for Arthur.
Ariadne glanced further into the office. The reception area was separated from Robert's office proper by a glass wall with tall, slotted blinds, giving them a barred view of their target. He was seated behind his own impressive desk, face in hands much like Arthur had been only minutes before. His shoulders were tense and his lips moved as if whispering something to himself. Ariadne winced in sympathy. He'll get used to it, like Arthur did, she told herself. Or...this job might not get very far.
Robert rubbed his eyes and then reached for his intercom. "Shelby," his voice came through the speaker on her desk. "Could you please bring me an Aspirin and some water?"
Ariadne jumped, and opened her desk drawer in search, and then jumped again: the drawer was full of paper pinwheels. Some were as broad as her hand while others no larger than a quarter, and they came in a wide variety of colors and designs. Frowning deeply, she pawed through them.
"Go on, Shelby," Nash said, waving at her.
"I can't--he'll recognize me." She found a medicine bottle at the bottom of the pile and tossed it to Nash. "You go."
He did, and while he was gone Ariadne made another sweeping look of her desk. She had placed a flower vase on one corner, but what should have been roses had become a bouquet of twirling red pinwheels. So had the pen and pencil jar, and her stack of Post-its, and the desktop wallpaper of her computer...
"Pinwheel, pinwheel," Charla's voice sang through her earpiece. "Spinning around."
"You see them too?" Before anyone could ask, she added, "I didn't put them here."
"Me neither," Nash said as he returned from the office.
"They're all over," said Yusuf. "All of his projections are carrying one. Does it mean anything to you, Charla?"
She hummed thoughtfully and took long in answering. "I've seen something like this before--it's some kind of subconscious obsession. I doubt it'll interfere with the job."
"Then we ignore them," Arthur said. "Let's give Fischer an hour to adjust before we continue."
Everyone agreed, but as Ariadne settled she couldn't help but feel apprehensive. It must have something to do with the inception, she thought, glancing to him through the blinds. He was still rubbing his eyes wearily. I don't remember any pinwheels the last time we were here.
The hour passed slowly. Ariadne did her best to stay relaxed but on task, answering phone calls and clicking around her computer like an active secretary. Robert stayed in his office the entire time, gradually regaining his composure. Eventually he even went to work, making phone calls of his own and shuffling boredly through his mail. Corporate life, she thought with half a smile. Boring even in dreams.
When he seemed to have completely adjusted Arthur was in her ear again. "How's Fischer doing?"
"He's fine." Ariadne snuck another peek. "I think we're ready."
"Then you're up, Ariadne."
Ariadne took a deep breath, and turned her office chair around to face the picture window. It was still early in the morning, but the city below had awakened and was bustling with activity. In the streets the projections moved like ants, and she wondered if each of them were also carrying little pinwheels. Focus, Ariadne. This is important. Once she was sure her concentration was set, she stared into the horizon and pulled, very slowly.
Even if she had been outside she wouldn't have been able to feel it yet: the slight tug of cooler air flowing through the city. There was only a faint line of clouds in the distance that would, in a few hours' time, roll in and bring the rain she had been practicing all week. When she watched the projections as they continued their morning commute she noticed no change in their patterns and was relieved.
"Ari," Nash whispered in warning. "Ari, wait."
She glanced swiftly to the office, and held her breath at the sight of Robert moving towards the windows. His eyes were dull and unfocused, and he pressed his hand slowly to the glass. Not even Arthur's subconscious caught on that fast during training, Ariadne thought, fighting to keep her anxiety from hampering the transition. He can't have noticed already.
Robert leaned forward until his face was to the window, and his shoulders sagged, as if the strength were going out of him. He stayed there, silent and motionless, his eyes closed, for five minutes before Ariadne felt confident enough that he wasn't reaction to her dream altering. The projections below were still casually milling about as if aware of nothing. With another deep breath she accelerated the change, just to be sure.
Robert did not move. He remained at the window for another eventless hour before he returned to his desk.
"He's acting strangely," Ariadne whispered, splitting her attention between watching their Mark and supporting her work. "I'm not sure if he's figured it out already."
"The projections are still calm," Arthur told her. "Just relax. When he's on to us, I'm sure we'll be the first to know."
With bullets, probably. Ariadne shook her tense shoulders and adjusted her chair for another long wait.
She stuck to the plan. After three hours of transitioning her clouds had formed into a cold front, dark and oppressive across the entire skyline. After four it began to rain, heavy drops splattering the windows. Robert's head jerked up at the noise, and again he walked to the window, with much greater clarity than before. He watched each falling drop with increasing familiarity and irritation.
"Someone's heading for the office," Yusuf whispered.
Ariadne looked to the door. Two men were approaching, just visible in the frosted glass. She straightened her suit and did her best to look unassuming and projection-like as the door opened, and two broad-shouldered men stepped inside. The first had green eyes and rough, brown hair with poorly groomed sideburns--the second was dark-skinned and had a neck like a linebacker. They were barely inside when Ariadne heard a sharp gasp through her earpiece, but she didn't have time to figure out who it was: the first man was leaning over her desk.
"We're here to see Mr. Fischer," he said.
Ariadne straightened up. "He's expecting you," she replied automatically, gesturing to the office. The man grunted, and he and his companion continued inside.
"Militant projections don't make appointments, do they?" Ariadne whispered, watching as Robert eyed the men and warily shook their hands.
"If they're not gone in a few minutes, find an excuse to get them out," Arthur instructed. "It's almost time and we don't want anyone in there."
Ariadne looked for Nash, ready to plan such an excuse with him, but he was gone. Frowning, she glanced to the office, and when the men were definitely not looking she snuck to his desk. "Nash, where did you..."
Nash was curled up under his desk. His eyes were wide and he was shaking, his arms held close to his chest, his face pale. He looked utterly terrified, and when Ariadne knelt down to touch his shoulder he jerked away.
"Oh fuck," he groaned, trying to hide deeper in the wood. "Oh God..."
"Nash!" she hissed, shaking him. "What's the matter?" She peeked over the desk--Robert was still talking to his two guests, looking more and more discomforted by their presence. When the first man's voice rose angrily Nash shuddered. She ducked under the desk again. "Do you know them?"
"Oh fuck, it's him," Nash breathed.
"What? Who is it?"
Nash's panicked eyes met hers, and scars blossomed across his face and down his arm. "It's Woodruff," he gasped. "He did this to me."
"Woodruff is the president of Cobol Engineering," said Yusuf. "Fischer Morrow's worked with them before--he must be Fischer's projection."
"Calm him down," Arthur instructed sharply.
Ariadne edged closer to Nash and touched his face, wincing at the scars beneath her fingers. "Nash, it's all right," she assured. "Fischer brought them here--they're his projections. He doesn't know that you know Woodruff, so they won't recognize you." She hooked her arm under his. "Come on--get up."
"I can't." Nash squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shrink away from her. "I can't--don’t let him see me, oh God."
"Uh-oh--more incoming," Yusuf warned anxiously.
Ariadne started to push herself up, but when she saw the outline of the man approaching her heart skipped and she immediately ducked behind the desk again. The door opened, and their new guest strode purposefully through the reception area and into Robert's office.
"Arthur," Ariadne hissed, edging around the desk to see. "It's Eames--Eames is here."
"What? Hold on--I'm coming in."
"No, wait," Yusuf interrupted. "I don't think it's really him--he looked right at me and didn't recognize me."
"You think he's a projection too?" Ariadne leaned around the corner of Nash's desk to get a view of the office. She couldn't make out what Eames was saying but whatever it was made Woodruff's face flush, and he raised his voice again, gesturing with his closed fist. They continued to argue as Eames opened the office door.
"You gentlemen need to leave," he said, his smile icy. "I'm sure you're familiar with the way out."
"This isn't over," Woodruff snarled as he and his companion marched out. "You'll regret this, Fischer! You're in our territory, remember that!" He slammed the door behind him.
"You didn't need to do that," Robert said, folding his arms. "They're a powerful company here in Africa. I need to be able to get along with them."
"This deal isn't right for you, trust me," Eames said, turning toward him. "I'm keeping you from making a mistake."
He closed the door, drowning out the rest of their conversation, but Ariadne still had a good view of them moving close together. She watched Eames rub Robert's arms, watched Robert relax under his hands, watched Eames ask a question and get an uncertain answer. "I knew it," she said under her breath.
"What's going on?" Arthur demanded. "Are you all right?"
Eames touched the nape of Robert's neck and leaned into him. He whispered something, close enough that his lips brushed the man's ear. Slowly Robert stood taller, and his eyes flickered to the reception area. He met Ariadne's gaze, momentarily paralyzing her with the same intense glare of hatred he'd fixed on her the night before in the hotel.
He's on to us, she realized, but before she could get the words out of her throat Eames twisted around, pistol in hand. She had just enough presence of mind to reel back as gunshots shattered the glass between them and threw chunks of wood out of the desk.
Nash finally woke from his stupor, and pulled Ariadne to the other end of the desk with him as bullets ripped through the pinwheels and impacted against the walls. He reached for his own gun, taped under the desk as a backup, but Eames never stopped firing as he steered Robert through the office. By the time he had to pause to reload they were already out the door.
"Eames has Fischer," Ariadne reported, her heart pounding as she hurried to retrieve the weapon from her desk. "They're headed your way, Yusuf."
"I'll handle him," said Arthur. "The rest of you just get Fischer to the basement."
Ariadne bit her lip as she thumbed the safety off and crept to the door. She could see Fischer's back moving down the hall, and motioned for Nash to follow her after them.
"I'm sorry," Nash said, rubbing the scars off his face. "I didn't mean--"
"It's all right, it's not your fault," she replied quickly. "We can still do this."
Arthur slipped out of the washroom ahead of them, Glock in hand. At the far end of the hall Yusuf was kneeling between the two elevators, dressed in a maintenance uniform and surrounded by equipment. Eames and Fischer were nearly on him, and he tensed, trying not to arouse their suspicion.
"Grab Fischer and pull him into the elevator," Arthur instructed quietly, leveling his weapon. "In three...two..."
Yusuf stayed low, grabbing Robert around the waist and using his hand on the open elevator as leverage to yank him through. At the same time Arthur fired, and blood sprayed from Eames's bicep. Before he could get off another shot a pair of hands grabbed at him from the open conference room on his left and dragged him inside.
"Arthur!" Ariadne ran to the open door, just in time to see Arthur shoot Woodruff through the eye. But Woodruff's bodyguard was there as well, and he knocked the gun out of Arthur's hand before reaching for his throat. Ariadne lifted her gun but as the men grappled against the conference table she wasn't confident enough in her shot to take it. If I wake Arthur up now, he could be--
"Go!" Arthur shouted, prying at the hands around him, and then suddenly there were two of him, struggling together to throw the man back. "Stay with Fischer!"
"Okay--be careful!"
Ariadne bolted for the end of the hall. Yusuf still had his arm around Robert's waist, his foot braced against the door in his attempt to keep Robert in the elevator. Robert twisted and shoved at him, pulling at the door and at Eames, who was bloodied but still full of fight. Despite his wounded arm Eames lifted his gun.
"Wake me up!" Robert shouted, pulling the muzzle towards his head. "Wake me up--"
Nash threw himself into Eames, digging his fingers into the open gunshot wound--Eames cried out, more angry than pained, as the gun dropped from his trembling grip. With Ariadne's help Nash threw Eames back and at last shoved Robert into the corner of the elevator.
Ariadne turned back. Arthur was charging out of the conference room, and Eames was reaching for his gun again, and yet another projection in a black suit was stepping out of the recently arrived second elevator. He was wearing black leather gloves and his eyes were sharp and familiar. Ariadne gasped as she pounded on the door close button. "Cover Fischer--"
Cobb fired into the elevator. Yusuf shoved Robert into one corner while Ariadne and Nash retreated into another. Bullets ricocheted off the metal but the doors were already mostly closed, and with a quiet chime they were separated from the chaos in the hallway.
"What the fuck is Cobb doing here?" Nash hissed, hitting the button for the basement. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Calm down." Ariadne cupped her hand over her earpiece. She could hear Arthur's heavy breath, mixed with gunshots and an unnerving squeal of metal. Arthur can handle it, she told herself. He's fine. "Dr. Banks, we're on our way to the basement."
"I'm ready for you," she replied. "Is everyone all right?"
"So far." She glanced around to be sure. Yusuf's lip was bleeding but no one had been shot.
Robert glared at her from the corner. "Wake me up," he demanded.
Ariadne noticed him eyeing her gun, and she hid it behind her. "How long have you known you were dreaming?" she asked. "Did Eames tell you?"
"I've known the whole time," he snapped. "Now wake me up."
"Waking up now would hurt more than help," Yusuf said, keeping a hand on Robert's shoulder. "You don't want to do that."
Robert shuddered. "Wake me up," he said again, growing desperate. "Wake me up now!"
Something clanged against the top of the elevator, rocking them, and everyone stared up in alarm. Three heavy thuds were followed by the ceiling panel caving in, and a man in a black suit dropped through the roof.
Robert gasped and reached for him. "Mr. Charles--"
Mr. Charles grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled, dragging him away from Yusuf and into the barrel of his gun. Before he could fire Nash and Ariadne both leapt forward, shoving his arm up. The elevator swayed as a panic broke out between them all--everyone was reaching for the gun, their hands crashing into each other as they clawed and scrambled in the enclosed space. A shot rang out and reflected loudly off the ceiling panel. Yusuf screamed and fell back, but before Ariadne could ask if he was all right he shoved back into the fray.
"Strange way to make friends," Mr. Charles growled.
His elbow swung, catching Ariadne in the chest and throwing her against the wall. As he continued to fight off Nash and Yusuf, Robert abruptly broke away. He jabbed his forearm into her neck, pinning and choking her.
"Give me the gun!" Robert demanded, pressing into her as his other hand fumbled, trying to grab the pistol.
Ariadne pulled at his arm while trying to keep her grip on her weapon, but she couldn't breathe and her pulse was already heavy in her temples. Pins and needles rippled across her face from the deprivation and she fought, desperate, until she was able to squirm just enough that she could kick at the elevator's panel. Her heel struck the emergency stop and with a gut-dropping jerk the elevator halted, sending everyone falling into each other once more.
The doors flew open. As Ariadne continued to push Robert off her she caught a glance of an open stairwell beyond, and a man dropped into view as if having fallen from a great height. It was Eames, a second bullet wound in his side, hands bloody around the pistol he was aiming at them. "Robert!"
Robert turned and tried to put himself in the path of the gun, but when shots echoed it was Eames that fell back, blood spurting from a wound in the top of his collar. Two more bullets raked down his chest and pierced his skull, and he at last collapsed, his gun skittering away.
"Eames!" Robert leapt from the elevator and dropped to his side. "Eames!" he cried again, shaking him.
Mr. Charles turned, but his distraction was just what Nash and Yusuf needed. They kicked him into the corner and at last wrenched his gun away, and Nash turned it on him for three quick shots to the chest. He sagged, dead.
Ariadne doubled over, coughing and rubbing her bruised throat. When Yusuf steadied her she remembered. "Yusuf--are you hit?"
"My foot," he grunted, motioning to the bloodied limb. He wiped sweat from his forehead. "I'm fine."
Ariadne straightened up with his help, and looked outside the elevator again. Robert was still curled over Eames's dead body, shuddering. "It's just a dream," he told himself hoarsely, his hands staining as they twisted in the front of Eames's bloody shirt. "I'm just dreaming--this isn't real. It's not real."
Ariadne tasted bile at the back of her throat as she moved slowly behind him. Her gun was still in her hand and she had the sudden impulse to turn it on him and pull the trigger. He doesn't deserve this, a voice said at the back of her mind as she listened to his breath heave and catch. How can we do this to him?
Arthur leapt down the last few stairs. His hair was mussed and he was missing his tie but otherwise he was fine. He reloaded his handgun. "Why the hell is there a stairwell here?"
"Why are you looking at me?" Nash replied defensively. "This is her dream too!"
Arthur scoffed, not bothering to look to Ariadne for confirmation--she hadn't put it there. "Forget it," he said. "Let's just get him to the basement."
Nash heaved a sigh and shoved his gun in the back of his pants as he crouched, hooking his hands under Robert's armpit. "It's just a dream," Robert was still saying, his eyes red and watering. "I'm just dreaming..."
Nash pulled, and though he managed to get Robert on his feet, Robert also stayed on the floor, clinging to Eames. Both of them immediately stopped, staring blankly around, eyes wide and uncomprehending.
"What is this?" the Roberts asked. They looked to each other, baffled. "Am I dead?"
"Looks like the transition worked," Arthur said. He squeezed Ariadne's shoulder. "You all right?"
"Not really." Her head was throbbing and she wanted to throw up. "Let's just go."
Nash dragged one Robert into the elevator and Arthur took the other, being sure to keep them in opposite corners. "What do you want with me?" both asked together, still watching each other with morbid fascination. "Did Woodruff send you? Did Peter?" They trembled, and one gagged, covering his mouth. "What are you doing to me?"
"We're going to wake you up, Mr. Fischer," Arthur told him. He left Robert just long enough to help Yusuf shove Mr. Charles's corpse out. "Just be patient a little longer."
The elevator stopped in the basement, several stories below ground level. Unlike the modern office building above, the tunnel they passed through was white and gleaming, made of sharp, militaristic lines. Ariadne led them down the corridor and into a broad chamber designed as a sleek and futuristic subway platform. Charla was waiting for them at a bench. When she saw them approach with a pair of Robert Fischers her eyebrows peaked. "Is everyone all right?"
"Mostly." Yusuf sank onto the bench next to her, and she knelt down take a look at his wound. As she carefully removed his shoe and rolled up his pant leg the rest of them continued to the platform. A pair of subway cars awaited them on the parallel tracks, white and clean and rounded. "This way, Mr. Fischer," Arthur said as he pulled Robert aboard.
Rather than seats, each of the cars was filled with flat beds and a PASIV at the center. When Robert saw he immediately began to struggle. "No," he said urgently, "No, I don't want to go under again."
"It's just a metaphor," Arthur told him as he pushed him onto one of the beds. "You're waking up, I promise."
"Let go of me!" Robert tried to sit up, and his twin fought against Nash in an attempt to help him, but Arthur pinned him down. When he held out his hand, Ariadne grimaced but reached into a compartment in the wall and retrieved for him another chloroform-laden rag. He pressed it to Robert's face and in moments he was asleep.
The second Robert sagged, disoriented, making it much easier for Arthur and Nash to give him similar treatment in the second car. Ariadne watched it all, her stomach in knots. She couldn't get out of her mind the image of Robert quaking over Eames's body, of Eames stroking his arms in comfort. "Arthur," she said weakly.
"It's all right," he said automatically. "Things didn't exactly go according to plan, but the outcome is the same. Everything's on schedule." He moved past her, onto the platform again.
Ariadne followed him, grabbing for his arm. "Arthur, wait. I don't know if we--"
"You'll have to be very careful," Charla interrupted. She helped Yusuf up to the car and then turned, pointing to the far wall. "His subconscious already knows this place is here."
Ariadne looked. Her smooth, featureless walls had been marred by swirling graffiti: more pinwheels, drawn in bold, curving lines and bright colors. Though only paint they were spinning, all the way down the subway tunnel in both directions.
"This area will be sealed off as soon as we leave," Nash assured. "The projections won't be able to get into the tunnels."
Arthur nodded. "Let's get moving."
Yusuf and Charla took their positions in either train, and once they were settled Arthur split again, joining them both. Ariadne watched him stretch out, her breath tight in her chest. "Arthur," she tried again. "I'm not sure I can do this."
Arthur held up his arm to her, and with a sharp sigh she brought his PASIV needle to him. "You'll be fine," he said as he slipped it under his skin. "Just remember everything I taught you. You're ready for this."
Ariadne swallowed hard, but seeing Arthur look so sure of himself weakened her protests. Without another word she handed another needle to Yusuf, and then slipped the last into Robert's arm. His face was already tight with strain and she left the car quickly.
Nash handed out the needles in the second car and then joined her on the platform. "Guess this is it," he said, moving to one of the nearby columns. When he touched it a panel opened, revealing a set of controls. He punched in a short sequence, timing together both PASIVs and the cars. The doors slid shut, and slowly the cars rumbled off in opposite directions with their human cargo.
"It'll take them an hour to get to Point One," Nash said as he closed the panel up again. He ran his hands through his hair. "Shit, his projections are something else, huh? Like, inhuman."
"Yeah," Ariadne agreed vaguely. When she realized that Nash was staring at her she shook herself. "I'm ready."
They opened the maintenance door and slipped through into a locker room. Ariadne changed out of her suit and into thick pants and a leather riding jacket, then followed Nash down another hall into the subterranean garage. The only vehicles were a pair of three-wheelers parked next to each other, helmets on the seats. As Nash moved to his Ariadne paused by the wall and opened another panel. Behind it was a red lever that she only hesitated a moment to pull.
A warning buzzer sounded from within the tunnel they had just left, and a thick, iron wall dropped slowly out of the ceiling, sealing it off. She could hear metal clang in the distance as more partitions fit into place, separating the office tower from the subway system under it. At the far end of the garage a new tunnel opened that would seal itself as soon as they were out.
They'll be safe until we each get to Point One, Ariadne thought as she hopped onto her bike and snapped her helmet on. One hour for us, twelve for them. I hope that's enough time. She gave Nash a thumbs up, and together they revved their engines and drove up the steep incline, out of the garage. Heavy iron slammed shut behind them.
Ariadne came out on the street, and though Nash immediately turned left and sped off down the street, she halted a moment to glance around and get her bearings. Despite all the chaos on the thirty-second floor Robert's projections were still milling about undisturbed, but unlike Ariadne's imagining of them, they weren't carrying pinwheels.
Cairo was full of ghosts. Every man, woman, and child was nothing more than a smear of black fabric and long, white limbs, their heads adorned in lifeless, eyeless masks. They shuffled together in herds through the rain, giving Ariadne no notice, content to drone on in unintelligible murmurs up and down the curved sidewalks of Robert's mind.
To Chapter 11
Title: The Helix Trap
Chapter: 10/19 (~7,00 words) (For other parts please check my My main post)
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Eames/Robert, Arthur/Ariadne, Cobb, Yusuf, Saito, Browning, and others.
Warnings: Violence, sexual content.
Disclaimer: These characters and setting do not belong to me and are being used without permission but for no profit
Summary: After the Inception proves successful, Eames tracks down Robert out of concern for its unusual side effects. Meanwhile, Arthur is hired to a dangerous job that forces the rest of the team to take sides: whether to defend Robert and his fragile mind, or ruin him completely.
Notes: C&C Welcome and appreciated. Thanks to my beta chypie for her input!
Thanks to everyone following/commenting on this fic! It's only going to get weirder from here on out, so please lemme know if it becomes incoherent at any point XD;;
"The helix trap is actually more like a double helix," Arthur explained. "Again, not my name choice. Like I told you before, it works by splitting the subject's mind into two halves: one that remains in the dream, one that functions in reality. A feedback loop is created, where experiences in reality reflect in the dream, and visa-versa."
It was 2:30 in the morning, and Yusuf and Ariadne were seated around the card table, eating turkey chili to stay awake. "But doesn't that mean they'll eventually balance out?" Ariadne asked between bites. "If the dream changes to match what he's really seeing and experiencing, what stops it from just becoming a reflection?"
Arthur nodded to her. "You're right--normally, that is what would happen. That's why we're going to create something in the dream space that can't exist in reality, something with enough emotional attachment that he won't be able to erase it."
"His father? Oh!" She straightened. "Dr. Banks is going to forge Fischer Sr., isn't she?"
"Yes. That's the plan, anyway." Arthur started to reach for his coffee, but changed his mind and opened a bottled water instead. "She's not the best forger but Fischer's subconscious should fill in for her."
"A man hallucinating his recently passed father sounds almost too believable," Yusuf said, frowning. "Dr. Banks won't have any trouble convincing the Fischer Morrow board that he needs help."
"In order to undo it, we may have to go through his father's death again, in another dream," added Arthur. "It sounds cruel, but it's the cleanest way of doing this that I could think of."
Ariadne worried her bottom lip between her teeth. It did sound cruel, but she couldn't think of anything better, either. "All right. Then it's time to spill." She took in a deep breath and faced Arthur squarely. "How do we split him?"
Arthur leaned back. "We put him in two dreams simultaneously, by connecting him to two PASIVs at the same time."
Ariadne blinked in surprise. "But..." She glanced to Yusuf, who was almost beaming with intellectual curiosity, and wasn't sure what to think. "But it's the dreamer that makes the dream, right? Not the machine. How would that change anything?"
"Aha, that's what I thought too," Yusuf said. "And to be honest, my assistant and I tried it as soon as Charla finished explaining it to us. With two people both connected to two machines, the effect is the same as using one, because there is still only one dreamer."
"You shouldn't have been experimenting on your own like that," Arthur admonished. "You could have gotten yourselves in trouble."
"Yes, yes, but that's how progress is made, no? Anyway." Yusuf leaned his elbows on the table and looked to Ariadne. "It turns out, the trick is to have two dreamers each connect to their own device, separately, and then connect a third person to both. That third becomes the subject, who is then compelled to populate both dreams."
Ariadne's mind whirled simply thinking about it. "But how can your brain deal with all that information, especially consciously? I can't even begin to imagine how that works."
"It's extremely taxing," said Arthur, wincing.
"Well yeah of course it--wait." She squinted at him, and when he tried to look away, she caught on. "Is that why you had a headache earlier? You've been doing that? You're not--" She turned her chair towards him. "You're not doing that on the job, are you?"
"I'll have to," he replied evenly. "We won't be able to communicate between the parallel dreams otherwise."
"But this is crazy!" Ariadne looked again to Yusuf but he was no help at all.
"It's fascinating, isn't it?" he said brightly. "I knew Arthur was a skilled dreamer, but if I hadn't seen it myself I'd never have believed he could do this. It must take an extraordinary amount of focus and control." His eyes seemed to gleam. "I'm quite envious."
"This is the plan," Arthur resumed. He started to doodle a tree-like diagram on his napkin. "We're going to start with Ariadne and Nash each creating the same dream, using two different PASIVs. With both dreams being the same, Fischer's mind should populate them the same way, making it seem like one cohesive dream. That should make it easier for him to cope with it, even though he's not trained for dreamshare this complicated."
Ariadne still had reservations, but she bit them back so she could hear him out. "Okay..."
"Then your transitioning comes in. You'll make a slight change in your dream while Nash's stays the same, gradually easing Fischer's mind in two different directions. Once he seems stable, we'll take him down to level two."
"Two levels, two dreams each," Yusuf added. "That's four full dreams--only a very clear compound will make it possible."
Arthur nodded. "We wouldn't be able to do this without you," he agreed. "Anyway, in level two, Yusuf and Dr. Banks will be the dreamers. Dr. Banks will set the trap by forging Fischer Sr., and then....we spring it."
"By waking up Yusuf's half," said Ariadne. "Okay, I think I get it, but..." Her stomach knotted, made worse by Arthur's too-calm expression. "If you're going to be in both dreams just like Fischer, doesn't that mean you're going to get pulled apart too?"
At last Yusuf's expression showed some of the same concern she was feeling, but Arthur still looked resolute. "Yes," he admitted. "Which is why the timing has to be precise. Once the trap is set, I'll have to go back to level one before we wake up, or I could end up just like Fischer."
"God this is freaking me out." Ariadne forced herself to laugh to try and dispel the tension locking her up, and it worked, somewhat. "You're sure that will work, right?"
"It's how we got out last time," Arthur replied. Playing along, he smiled with her. "If anything goes wrong you'll just have to come back in and get me."
"Don't think I won't! Just so I can give you a beating." She swallowed a mouthful of chili, willing it to settle her. "I guess I'll have to really get to work, then. There's not much time left."
"Anything else we should know?" asked Yusuf.
"...Yes." Arthur pushed his bowl away so he could lean forward, fingers laced on the table. "There's something I should have told you before the last one, actually."
Here it is. Ariadne stopped eating as well so she could give him her full attention. "You mean, the fact that you had been in Fischer's mind before the inception," she said.
"Yes."
"What?" Yusuf glanced between them in alarm. "You mean, as part of the research? Or..." His eyes narrowed, and Ariadne could see him coming to the same conclusion she had earlier after overhearing the conversation with Eames. "Part of his training?"
"No," Arthur said quickly. "No, I did not train Robert Fischer." He ran a hand through his hair. "I trained his father."
The pair exchanged baffled looks. "What?"
"It was almost three years ago," Arthur explained. "Dr. Banks recommended him to me. He said at first that he wanted to be trained in subconscious defense, but when we met in person he changed his mind. He hired me to perform an extraction on his son."
"An extraction?" Ariadne repeated incredulously. "On his own son?"
Yusuf shook his head. "What were you extracting?"
Arthur's perfect composure cracked minutely. "I was never completely sure," he admitted. "He was worried that someone had gotten to Fischer already, and he wanted me to find out if there was something artificial in his subconscious mind."
"Like he had been Incepted already?"
"I don't know--I don't think so." Arthur shook his head. "To be honest, I got the impression he was simply being paranoid. In Fischer's mind we found a whole host of unhappy childhood memories. We would have had to repress half his history to make him a model son of Maurice Fischer, if that's what he really wanted. I told him I couldn't help, so I gave him some training to make up for it and left it at that."
"So wait, then Fischer--Fischer Jr.--wasn't trained?" Ariadne rubbed her face, twice as exhausted as she had been a moment ago. "Not even when you were in his mind last?"
"No." Arthur's eyes darted away from her, hiding something. "His projections were fierce, that much I found out, but only because I made a mistake and tripped them myself. They weren't organized. Fischer's father assured me he had not had any training, too. When I planned for the inception I only went back the last three years and found nothing."
Ariadne sighed. "So that's still a mystery." She watched Arthur's face closely, trying to puzzle out the missing pieces of his story. "Why didn't you tell us all this before?"
"I didn't want Cobb to know," he confessed. "He was already having a hard time reining himself in, and I knew that if I said anything, it would only distract him." He met Ariadne's gaze, and she felt as if she could feel a message seeping out of him that she was meant to interpret. "I took that job right after he first learned that I was involved in illegal dreamshare. He was still clean then--we had a fight and weren't speaking. I didn't learn anything from Fischer's mind that was useful anyway, so I figured...it wasn't worth it to bring up history like that. Not when his children were on the line."
So Dr. Banks was right. They weren't speaking...almost three years ago. Something clicked in her brain, and she had to fight to keep the revelation out of her face. She glanced quickly to Yusuf and back. "Who was with you when you tried to extract from Fischer?" she asked carefully.
"Another extractor." His spoke deliberately, and with regret she had no trouble tracing to the source. "Not someone we have to worry about now."
Yusuf shook his head. "Anything else we need to know?"
"Nothing that can't wait until morning." Arthur stretched and pushed to his feet. "I've had my nap but I'm sure you two need the rest. We can go back to planning tomorrow." He looked to Ariadne. "I'll drive you home in the morning, so you have time before your class."
"Thanks."
Yusuf watched him walk away without comment and then looked to Ariadne. "He's still hiding something," he said.
"No," Ariadne murmured. "I'm pretty sure he just told me everything."
***
When Ariadne opened her eyes the first thing she saw was her own face staring back at her: she was applying her makeup once again, in the mirror of a lavishly furnished executive washroom. Once finished she closed her eyes, feeling out the edges of her dream, making sure that every little detail was in place. Five points. Fifteen connecting tunnels. Thirty-two floors in the tower. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Arthur. Where's Arthur?
The washroom had a small sitting area with a plush sofa, and it was there that she found Arthur. He was hunched forward, elbows on his knees and face in his hands, every breath carefully measured. It wasn't the first time Ariadne had seen him in such pain, thanks to their many training sessions, but she still felt a sympathy ache between her temples as she waited for him to compose himself. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah..." Arthur rubbed his hands over his eyes, the bridge of his nose, and then then down over his cheeks, as if pushing his features into their proper place. "Yes, I'm fine," he said with greater confidence, sitting up. "It feels pretty stable. You and Nash did a good job."
"So it's working?" Ariadne asked anxiously. "Fischer's filling in like you said?"
"Let's find out."
Arthur leaned back in the sofa, his gaze straightforward but unfocused. After a moment of concentration he stood, slowly, and strode into the bathroom proper. But at the same time he was still sitting on the sofa: a second Arthur had been left behind, fuzzy at the edges but unmistakably present. He stared into space, ghostlike.
Still so weird, Ariadne thought, glancing between the two Arthurs. She was tempted to poke at him, but settled instead with waving her hand in front of the copy's face.
Arthur's eyes came into focus and looked up at her. "What?"
"Oh--nothing, sorry." Ariadne smiled sheepishly, and blushed when she realized that the first Arthur was also watching her, having returned from his brief walk. "You're freaking me out."
Arthur moved in front of the sofa, and when his double stood, they merged seamlessly together once more. Ariadne got a chill. "Then it's working," he concluded. "Fischer's subconscious is fighting to keep the dreams equal, by projecting into one dream anything that's in the other."
He slipped an earpiece out of his pocket and into his ear, and Ariadne followed suit. "This is Arthur, checking in from the executive washroom," he said. "Everyone check in."
"Yusuf, in the hall outside Fischer's office," came the first reply. "I'm starting 'repairs' on Elevator B."
"Charla, standing by in the basement. Is the Mark in place?"
"Yeah, he's here." Nash cleared his throat. "I mean, this is Nash. I'm in Fischer's reception area. He's in the office."
"How does he look?" Arthur asked.
"Uhh...sick."
"Keep an eye on him. Ariadne's on her way in." He nodded to her.
She nodded back, and gave her ear a tap. "Stay in touch," she said with a faint smile. He returned it, and she started out of the bathroom. "Ariadne here, on my way to Fischer's office."
The office building stood thirty-two stories tall, as planned, and at the top floor it was mostly unoccupied. Ariadne had made sure to let Robert's office take up most of the space, along with empty conference rooms and storage, in order to cut down on the projections as much as possible. As she moved through the hall she passed only two clerks, each carrying files in one arm and handmade, paper pinwheels in the other.
That's...interesting, Ariadne thought with a frown as she slipped into Robert's office. The reception area was round and gray, with a pair of thick wooden desks facing each other like sentinels in front of Robert's door. The west wall was taken up mostly by a broad picture window that offered a breathtaking view of Nash's round Cairo, still half shadowed in the early morning hours. Ariadne glanced over the city, very pleased with her work, and took a seat behind her desk.
Nash was seated across from her, pressed and slick and intense as he too surveyed their dreamscape. When they were both satisfied they exchanged glances, and then a slow smile.
"Nicely done, Mr. Nash," Ariadne complimented.
"Nicely done yourself, Miss Ari," Nash replied.
As usual the dream had erased his scars and casts, but he wasn't entirely there: like the copy of Arthur he was blurred at the edges, leaving afterimages with every movement. We're not technically connected--I can only see him at all through Fischer, Ariadne reminded herself. Which means once Fischer's pulled apart, we'd lost contact if not for Arthur.
Ariadne glanced further into the office. The reception area was separated from Robert's office proper by a glass wall with tall, slotted blinds, giving them a barred view of their target. He was seated behind his own impressive desk, face in hands much like Arthur had been only minutes before. His shoulders were tense and his lips moved as if whispering something to himself. Ariadne winced in sympathy. He'll get used to it, like Arthur did, she told herself. Or...this job might not get very far.
Robert rubbed his eyes and then reached for his intercom. "Shelby," his voice came through the speaker on her desk. "Could you please bring me an Aspirin and some water?"
Ariadne jumped, and opened her desk drawer in search, and then jumped again: the drawer was full of paper pinwheels. Some were as broad as her hand while others no larger than a quarter, and they came in a wide variety of colors and designs. Frowning deeply, she pawed through them.
"Go on, Shelby," Nash said, waving at her.
"I can't--he'll recognize me." She found a medicine bottle at the bottom of the pile and tossed it to Nash. "You go."
He did, and while he was gone Ariadne made another sweeping look of her desk. She had placed a flower vase on one corner, but what should have been roses had become a bouquet of twirling red pinwheels. So had the pen and pencil jar, and her stack of Post-its, and the desktop wallpaper of her computer...
"Pinwheel, pinwheel," Charla's voice sang through her earpiece. "Spinning around."
"You see them too?" Before anyone could ask, she added, "I didn't put them here."
"Me neither," Nash said as he returned from the office.
"They're all over," said Yusuf. "All of his projections are carrying one. Does it mean anything to you, Charla?"
She hummed thoughtfully and took long in answering. "I've seen something like this before--it's some kind of subconscious obsession. I doubt it'll interfere with the job."
"Then we ignore them," Arthur said. "Let's give Fischer an hour to adjust before we continue."
Everyone agreed, but as Ariadne settled she couldn't help but feel apprehensive. It must have something to do with the inception, she thought, glancing to him through the blinds. He was still rubbing his eyes wearily. I don't remember any pinwheels the last time we were here.
The hour passed slowly. Ariadne did her best to stay relaxed but on task, answering phone calls and clicking around her computer like an active secretary. Robert stayed in his office the entire time, gradually regaining his composure. Eventually he even went to work, making phone calls of his own and shuffling boredly through his mail. Corporate life, she thought with half a smile. Boring even in dreams.
When he seemed to have completely adjusted Arthur was in her ear again. "How's Fischer doing?"
"He's fine." Ariadne snuck another peek. "I think we're ready."
"Then you're up, Ariadne."
Ariadne took a deep breath, and turned her office chair around to face the picture window. It was still early in the morning, but the city below had awakened and was bustling with activity. In the streets the projections moved like ants, and she wondered if each of them were also carrying little pinwheels. Focus, Ariadne. This is important. Once she was sure her concentration was set, she stared into the horizon and pulled, very slowly.
Even if she had been outside she wouldn't have been able to feel it yet: the slight tug of cooler air flowing through the city. There was only a faint line of clouds in the distance that would, in a few hours' time, roll in and bring the rain she had been practicing all week. When she watched the projections as they continued their morning commute she noticed no change in their patterns and was relieved.
"Ari," Nash whispered in warning. "Ari, wait."
She glanced swiftly to the office, and held her breath at the sight of Robert moving towards the windows. His eyes were dull and unfocused, and he pressed his hand slowly to the glass. Not even Arthur's subconscious caught on that fast during training, Ariadne thought, fighting to keep her anxiety from hampering the transition. He can't have noticed already.
Robert leaned forward until his face was to the window, and his shoulders sagged, as if the strength were going out of him. He stayed there, silent and motionless, his eyes closed, for five minutes before Ariadne felt confident enough that he wasn't reaction to her dream altering. The projections below were still casually milling about as if aware of nothing. With another deep breath she accelerated the change, just to be sure.
Robert did not move. He remained at the window for another eventless hour before he returned to his desk.
"He's acting strangely," Ariadne whispered, splitting her attention between watching their Mark and supporting her work. "I'm not sure if he's figured it out already."
"The projections are still calm," Arthur told her. "Just relax. When he's on to us, I'm sure we'll be the first to know."
With bullets, probably. Ariadne shook her tense shoulders and adjusted her chair for another long wait.
She stuck to the plan. After three hours of transitioning her clouds had formed into a cold front, dark and oppressive across the entire skyline. After four it began to rain, heavy drops splattering the windows. Robert's head jerked up at the noise, and again he walked to the window, with much greater clarity than before. He watched each falling drop with increasing familiarity and irritation.
"Someone's heading for the office," Yusuf whispered.
Ariadne looked to the door. Two men were approaching, just visible in the frosted glass. She straightened her suit and did her best to look unassuming and projection-like as the door opened, and two broad-shouldered men stepped inside. The first had green eyes and rough, brown hair with poorly groomed sideburns--the second was dark-skinned and had a neck like a linebacker. They were barely inside when Ariadne heard a sharp gasp through her earpiece, but she didn't have time to figure out who it was: the first man was leaning over her desk.
"We're here to see Mr. Fischer," he said.
Ariadne straightened up. "He's expecting you," she replied automatically, gesturing to the office. The man grunted, and he and his companion continued inside.
"Militant projections don't make appointments, do they?" Ariadne whispered, watching as Robert eyed the men and warily shook their hands.
"If they're not gone in a few minutes, find an excuse to get them out," Arthur instructed. "It's almost time and we don't want anyone in there."
Ariadne looked for Nash, ready to plan such an excuse with him, but he was gone. Frowning, she glanced to the office, and when the men were definitely not looking she snuck to his desk. "Nash, where did you..."
Nash was curled up under his desk. His eyes were wide and he was shaking, his arms held close to his chest, his face pale. He looked utterly terrified, and when Ariadne knelt down to touch his shoulder he jerked away.
"Oh fuck," he groaned, trying to hide deeper in the wood. "Oh God..."
"Nash!" she hissed, shaking him. "What's the matter?" She peeked over the desk--Robert was still talking to his two guests, looking more and more discomforted by their presence. When the first man's voice rose angrily Nash shuddered. She ducked under the desk again. "Do you know them?"
"Oh fuck, it's him," Nash breathed.
"What? Who is it?"
Nash's panicked eyes met hers, and scars blossomed across his face and down his arm. "It's Woodruff," he gasped. "He did this to me."
"Woodruff is the president of Cobol Engineering," said Yusuf. "Fischer Morrow's worked with them before--he must be Fischer's projection."
"Calm him down," Arthur instructed sharply.
Ariadne edged closer to Nash and touched his face, wincing at the scars beneath her fingers. "Nash, it's all right," she assured. "Fischer brought them here--they're his projections. He doesn't know that you know Woodruff, so they won't recognize you." She hooked her arm under his. "Come on--get up."
"I can't." Nash squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shrink away from her. "I can't--don’t let him see me, oh God."
"Uh-oh--more incoming," Yusuf warned anxiously.
Ariadne started to push herself up, but when she saw the outline of the man approaching her heart skipped and she immediately ducked behind the desk again. The door opened, and their new guest strode purposefully through the reception area and into Robert's office.
"Arthur," Ariadne hissed, edging around the desk to see. "It's Eames--Eames is here."
"What? Hold on--I'm coming in."
"No, wait," Yusuf interrupted. "I don't think it's really him--he looked right at me and didn't recognize me."
"You think he's a projection too?" Ariadne leaned around the corner of Nash's desk to get a view of the office. She couldn't make out what Eames was saying but whatever it was made Woodruff's face flush, and he raised his voice again, gesturing with his closed fist. They continued to argue as Eames opened the office door.
"You gentlemen need to leave," he said, his smile icy. "I'm sure you're familiar with the way out."
"This isn't over," Woodruff snarled as he and his companion marched out. "You'll regret this, Fischer! You're in our territory, remember that!" He slammed the door behind him.
"You didn't need to do that," Robert said, folding his arms. "They're a powerful company here in Africa. I need to be able to get along with them."
"This deal isn't right for you, trust me," Eames said, turning toward him. "I'm keeping you from making a mistake."
He closed the door, drowning out the rest of their conversation, but Ariadne still had a good view of them moving close together. She watched Eames rub Robert's arms, watched Robert relax under his hands, watched Eames ask a question and get an uncertain answer. "I knew it," she said under her breath.
"What's going on?" Arthur demanded. "Are you all right?"
Eames touched the nape of Robert's neck and leaned into him. He whispered something, close enough that his lips brushed the man's ear. Slowly Robert stood taller, and his eyes flickered to the reception area. He met Ariadne's gaze, momentarily paralyzing her with the same intense glare of hatred he'd fixed on her the night before in the hotel.
He's on to us, she realized, but before she could get the words out of her throat Eames twisted around, pistol in hand. She had just enough presence of mind to reel back as gunshots shattered the glass between them and threw chunks of wood out of the desk.
Nash finally woke from his stupor, and pulled Ariadne to the other end of the desk with him as bullets ripped through the pinwheels and impacted against the walls. He reached for his own gun, taped under the desk as a backup, but Eames never stopped firing as he steered Robert through the office. By the time he had to pause to reload they were already out the door.
"Eames has Fischer," Ariadne reported, her heart pounding as she hurried to retrieve the weapon from her desk. "They're headed your way, Yusuf."
"I'll handle him," said Arthur. "The rest of you just get Fischer to the basement."
Ariadne bit her lip as she thumbed the safety off and crept to the door. She could see Fischer's back moving down the hall, and motioned for Nash to follow her after them.
"I'm sorry," Nash said, rubbing the scars off his face. "I didn't mean--"
"It's all right, it's not your fault," she replied quickly. "We can still do this."
Arthur slipped out of the washroom ahead of them, Glock in hand. At the far end of the hall Yusuf was kneeling between the two elevators, dressed in a maintenance uniform and surrounded by equipment. Eames and Fischer were nearly on him, and he tensed, trying not to arouse their suspicion.
"Grab Fischer and pull him into the elevator," Arthur instructed quietly, leveling his weapon. "In three...two..."
Yusuf stayed low, grabbing Robert around the waist and using his hand on the open elevator as leverage to yank him through. At the same time Arthur fired, and blood sprayed from Eames's bicep. Before he could get off another shot a pair of hands grabbed at him from the open conference room on his left and dragged him inside.
"Arthur!" Ariadne ran to the open door, just in time to see Arthur shoot Woodruff through the eye. But Woodruff's bodyguard was there as well, and he knocked the gun out of Arthur's hand before reaching for his throat. Ariadne lifted her gun but as the men grappled against the conference table she wasn't confident enough in her shot to take it. If I wake Arthur up now, he could be--
"Go!" Arthur shouted, prying at the hands around him, and then suddenly there were two of him, struggling together to throw the man back. "Stay with Fischer!"
"Okay--be careful!"
Ariadne bolted for the end of the hall. Yusuf still had his arm around Robert's waist, his foot braced against the door in his attempt to keep Robert in the elevator. Robert twisted and shoved at him, pulling at the door and at Eames, who was bloodied but still full of fight. Despite his wounded arm Eames lifted his gun.
"Wake me up!" Robert shouted, pulling the muzzle towards his head. "Wake me up--"
Nash threw himself into Eames, digging his fingers into the open gunshot wound--Eames cried out, more angry than pained, as the gun dropped from his trembling grip. With Ariadne's help Nash threw Eames back and at last shoved Robert into the corner of the elevator.
Ariadne turned back. Arthur was charging out of the conference room, and Eames was reaching for his gun again, and yet another projection in a black suit was stepping out of the recently arrived second elevator. He was wearing black leather gloves and his eyes were sharp and familiar. Ariadne gasped as she pounded on the door close button. "Cover Fischer--"
Cobb fired into the elevator. Yusuf shoved Robert into one corner while Ariadne and Nash retreated into another. Bullets ricocheted off the metal but the doors were already mostly closed, and with a quiet chime they were separated from the chaos in the hallway.
"What the fuck is Cobb doing here?" Nash hissed, hitting the button for the basement. "What the fuck is going on?"
"Calm down." Ariadne cupped her hand over her earpiece. She could hear Arthur's heavy breath, mixed with gunshots and an unnerving squeal of metal. Arthur can handle it, she told herself. He's fine. "Dr. Banks, we're on our way to the basement."
"I'm ready for you," she replied. "Is everyone all right?"
"So far." She glanced around to be sure. Yusuf's lip was bleeding but no one had been shot.
Robert glared at her from the corner. "Wake me up," he demanded.
Ariadne noticed him eyeing her gun, and she hid it behind her. "How long have you known you were dreaming?" she asked. "Did Eames tell you?"
"I've known the whole time," he snapped. "Now wake me up."
"Waking up now would hurt more than help," Yusuf said, keeping a hand on Robert's shoulder. "You don't want to do that."
Robert shuddered. "Wake me up," he said again, growing desperate. "Wake me up now!"
Something clanged against the top of the elevator, rocking them, and everyone stared up in alarm. Three heavy thuds were followed by the ceiling panel caving in, and a man in a black suit dropped through the roof.
Robert gasped and reached for him. "Mr. Charles--"
Mr. Charles grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled, dragging him away from Yusuf and into the barrel of his gun. Before he could fire Nash and Ariadne both leapt forward, shoving his arm up. The elevator swayed as a panic broke out between them all--everyone was reaching for the gun, their hands crashing into each other as they clawed and scrambled in the enclosed space. A shot rang out and reflected loudly off the ceiling panel. Yusuf screamed and fell back, but before Ariadne could ask if he was all right he shoved back into the fray.
"Strange way to make friends," Mr. Charles growled.
His elbow swung, catching Ariadne in the chest and throwing her against the wall. As he continued to fight off Nash and Yusuf, Robert abruptly broke away. He jabbed his forearm into her neck, pinning and choking her.
"Give me the gun!" Robert demanded, pressing into her as his other hand fumbled, trying to grab the pistol.
Ariadne pulled at his arm while trying to keep her grip on her weapon, but she couldn't breathe and her pulse was already heavy in her temples. Pins and needles rippled across her face from the deprivation and she fought, desperate, until she was able to squirm just enough that she could kick at the elevator's panel. Her heel struck the emergency stop and with a gut-dropping jerk the elevator halted, sending everyone falling into each other once more.
The doors flew open. As Ariadne continued to push Robert off her she caught a glance of an open stairwell beyond, and a man dropped into view as if having fallen from a great height. It was Eames, a second bullet wound in his side, hands bloody around the pistol he was aiming at them. "Robert!"
Robert turned and tried to put himself in the path of the gun, but when shots echoed it was Eames that fell back, blood spurting from a wound in the top of his collar. Two more bullets raked down his chest and pierced his skull, and he at last collapsed, his gun skittering away.
"Eames!" Robert leapt from the elevator and dropped to his side. "Eames!" he cried again, shaking him.
Mr. Charles turned, but his distraction was just what Nash and Yusuf needed. They kicked him into the corner and at last wrenched his gun away, and Nash turned it on him for three quick shots to the chest. He sagged, dead.
Ariadne doubled over, coughing and rubbing her bruised throat. When Yusuf steadied her she remembered. "Yusuf--are you hit?"
"My foot," he grunted, motioning to the bloodied limb. He wiped sweat from his forehead. "I'm fine."
Ariadne straightened up with his help, and looked outside the elevator again. Robert was still curled over Eames's dead body, shuddering. "It's just a dream," he told himself hoarsely, his hands staining as they twisted in the front of Eames's bloody shirt. "I'm just dreaming--this isn't real. It's not real."
Ariadne tasted bile at the back of her throat as she moved slowly behind him. Her gun was still in her hand and she had the sudden impulse to turn it on him and pull the trigger. He doesn't deserve this, a voice said at the back of her mind as she listened to his breath heave and catch. How can we do this to him?
Arthur leapt down the last few stairs. His hair was mussed and he was missing his tie but otherwise he was fine. He reloaded his handgun. "Why the hell is there a stairwell here?"
"Why are you looking at me?" Nash replied defensively. "This is her dream too!"
Arthur scoffed, not bothering to look to Ariadne for confirmation--she hadn't put it there. "Forget it," he said. "Let's just get him to the basement."
Nash heaved a sigh and shoved his gun in the back of his pants as he crouched, hooking his hands under Robert's armpit. "It's just a dream," Robert was still saying, his eyes red and watering. "I'm just dreaming..."
Nash pulled, and though he managed to get Robert on his feet, Robert also stayed on the floor, clinging to Eames. Both of them immediately stopped, staring blankly around, eyes wide and uncomprehending.
"What is this?" the Roberts asked. They looked to each other, baffled. "Am I dead?"
"Looks like the transition worked," Arthur said. He squeezed Ariadne's shoulder. "You all right?"
"Not really." Her head was throbbing and she wanted to throw up. "Let's just go."
Nash dragged one Robert into the elevator and Arthur took the other, being sure to keep them in opposite corners. "What do you want with me?" both asked together, still watching each other with morbid fascination. "Did Woodruff send you? Did Peter?" They trembled, and one gagged, covering his mouth. "What are you doing to me?"
"We're going to wake you up, Mr. Fischer," Arthur told him. He left Robert just long enough to help Yusuf shove Mr. Charles's corpse out. "Just be patient a little longer."
The elevator stopped in the basement, several stories below ground level. Unlike the modern office building above, the tunnel they passed through was white and gleaming, made of sharp, militaristic lines. Ariadne led them down the corridor and into a broad chamber designed as a sleek and futuristic subway platform. Charla was waiting for them at a bench. When she saw them approach with a pair of Robert Fischers her eyebrows peaked. "Is everyone all right?"
"Mostly." Yusuf sank onto the bench next to her, and she knelt down take a look at his wound. As she carefully removed his shoe and rolled up his pant leg the rest of them continued to the platform. A pair of subway cars awaited them on the parallel tracks, white and clean and rounded. "This way, Mr. Fischer," Arthur said as he pulled Robert aboard.
Rather than seats, each of the cars was filled with flat beds and a PASIV at the center. When Robert saw he immediately began to struggle. "No," he said urgently, "No, I don't want to go under again."
"It's just a metaphor," Arthur told him as he pushed him onto one of the beds. "You're waking up, I promise."
"Let go of me!" Robert tried to sit up, and his twin fought against Nash in an attempt to help him, but Arthur pinned him down. When he held out his hand, Ariadne grimaced but reached into a compartment in the wall and retrieved for him another chloroform-laden rag. He pressed it to Robert's face and in moments he was asleep.
The second Robert sagged, disoriented, making it much easier for Arthur and Nash to give him similar treatment in the second car. Ariadne watched it all, her stomach in knots. She couldn't get out of her mind the image of Robert quaking over Eames's body, of Eames stroking his arms in comfort. "Arthur," she said weakly.
"It's all right," he said automatically. "Things didn't exactly go according to plan, but the outcome is the same. Everything's on schedule." He moved past her, onto the platform again.
Ariadne followed him, grabbing for his arm. "Arthur, wait. I don't know if we--"
"You'll have to be very careful," Charla interrupted. She helped Yusuf up to the car and then turned, pointing to the far wall. "His subconscious already knows this place is here."
Ariadne looked. Her smooth, featureless walls had been marred by swirling graffiti: more pinwheels, drawn in bold, curving lines and bright colors. Though only paint they were spinning, all the way down the subway tunnel in both directions.
"This area will be sealed off as soon as we leave," Nash assured. "The projections won't be able to get into the tunnels."
Arthur nodded. "Let's get moving."
Yusuf and Charla took their positions in either train, and once they were settled Arthur split again, joining them both. Ariadne watched him stretch out, her breath tight in her chest. "Arthur," she tried again. "I'm not sure I can do this."
Arthur held up his arm to her, and with a sharp sigh she brought his PASIV needle to him. "You'll be fine," he said as he slipped it under his skin. "Just remember everything I taught you. You're ready for this."
Ariadne swallowed hard, but seeing Arthur look so sure of himself weakened her protests. Without another word she handed another needle to Yusuf, and then slipped the last into Robert's arm. His face was already tight with strain and she left the car quickly.
Nash handed out the needles in the second car and then joined her on the platform. "Guess this is it," he said, moving to one of the nearby columns. When he touched it a panel opened, revealing a set of controls. He punched in a short sequence, timing together both PASIVs and the cars. The doors slid shut, and slowly the cars rumbled off in opposite directions with their human cargo.
"It'll take them an hour to get to Point One," Nash said as he closed the panel up again. He ran his hands through his hair. "Shit, his projections are something else, huh? Like, inhuman."
"Yeah," Ariadne agreed vaguely. When she realized that Nash was staring at her she shook herself. "I'm ready."
They opened the maintenance door and slipped through into a locker room. Ariadne changed out of her suit and into thick pants and a leather riding jacket, then followed Nash down another hall into the subterranean garage. The only vehicles were a pair of three-wheelers parked next to each other, helmets on the seats. As Nash moved to his Ariadne paused by the wall and opened another panel. Behind it was a red lever that she only hesitated a moment to pull.
A warning buzzer sounded from within the tunnel they had just left, and a thick, iron wall dropped slowly out of the ceiling, sealing it off. She could hear metal clang in the distance as more partitions fit into place, separating the office tower from the subway system under it. At the far end of the garage a new tunnel opened that would seal itself as soon as they were out.
They'll be safe until we each get to Point One, Ariadne thought as she hopped onto her bike and snapped her helmet on. One hour for us, twelve for them. I hope that's enough time. She gave Nash a thumbs up, and together they revved their engines and drove up the steep incline, out of the garage. Heavy iron slammed shut behind them.
Ariadne came out on the street, and though Nash immediately turned left and sped off down the street, she halted a moment to glance around and get her bearings. Despite all the chaos on the thirty-second floor Robert's projections were still milling about undisturbed, but unlike Ariadne's imagining of them, they weren't carrying pinwheels.
Cairo was full of ghosts. Every man, woman, and child was nothing more than a smear of black fabric and long, white limbs, their heads adorned in lifeless, eyeless masks. They shuffled together in herds through the rain, giving Ariadne no notice, content to drone on in unintelligible murmurs up and down the curved sidewalks of Robert's mind.
To Chapter 11