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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 9 months

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You're waiting for a train... (7)

Damsel in Distress

Robert Fischer x reader

description - The group goes under and the stakes they find there are more troubling than any of them could have dreamt.

word count - 3.3k (ooooooo she's a biggie)

warnings - guns, car crash, injuries, swearing, Robert being a cutie

a/n - I'm sorry this chapter took a bit longer to come out but I was really stuck with writing it. I could've whipped out a chapter really quickly but I knew it wouldn't have been my best and you loyal readers deserve my best, and I want to give this fic my best! :)

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My ticket is clasped firmly in my hand as we wait to board. I had panicked thinking of what to wear this morning. Believe it or not, my experience of first class was lacking. I didn’t want to look out of place so decided upon a sleek stone dress with a matching cardigan and black patent heels.

We were boarding the plane now, deliberately before Fischer. We aimed to get settled in our seats so there was nothing suspicious about the way we were interacting. I found my seat and calmed my shaking bones. God it was so comfortable, shame I wouldn’t get to relish in it. Well technically my body would whilst my mind ran about. I looked behind me seeing Yusuf, Ariadne, Arthur, and Saito. I looked across and found Eames, my dad, and an empty seat. The person who would claim it would be my direct opposite. My hands clenched the arm rest when realisation set in. My heart was racing to the point where I didn’t notice Robert’s entrance. Eames blocked his path in order to get subtle access to his passport which he then slipped to Cobb.

I perked up when I felt my dad gesturing my way. Not knowing what else to do, I rose and approached him. But I had failed to notice the obvious point of contact until I had once again slammed into someone and ended up on my knees. This time my brick wall happened to hold the steely blue eyes I found impossible to forget. Once again, I struggled to find my voice in the face of his gaze.

“Are you okay?” I sharply inhaled, my thoughts being dragged back to our previous meeting. This time the pressure informed my actions and I lowered my head so my locks curtained my distinct features. He offered me his hands to lift me from the surprisingly soft carpet. Even though I couldn’t let my eyes meet his, it didn’t mean I couldn’t let my thumb ever so gently stroke his firm hands. They had the softness of a privileged life but there was a hardness that came from never-ending worry.

“I’m sorry do I know you?” He laughed through his words whilst searching through my feeble disguise. I let my eyes drift to Eames in a plea for help. What was I to do?

“No, I’m sorry I just have one of those faces.” Robert was amused by my answer. The closer he leaned in the more it felt like the world just crumbled around us. I could feel the muscles in my neck praying for me to look up. Just for a moment. I could feel his hands engulfing my own in a protective hold.

Just then, Robert was shoved from behind, allowing me to recollect and escape the potentially risky moment. Cobb continued storing his bag when Robert span around, looking for the one responsible. Cobb made sure his stance alluded to his innocence.

Once, Robert turned back, expecting to find me, he was saddened to see me returned to my seat. He purposefully moved to continue our conversation but was halted by the stewardess who informed him it was time to take his seat.

Robert returned to his seat glumly. As he sat, his sadness could still be felt radiating despite his perfect posture. He unfurled his jacket from his body revealing a crisp white shirt, his trousers being held by suspenders. My eyes betrayed me to drag over his body. I quickly looked away when I risked meeting his eyes and I giggled at the juvenile gesture on my part. But it appeared he had noticed as he met my giggles with his own melodious chuckle. I looked behind Robert to see my father handling his passport. The fasten seat belt sign alighted and the pilots voice informed us of take off. The plane rumbled beneath our feet. A little gasp escaped me as I briefly felt the gravity leave our mass, lifting us into the air. My fingers curled tighter around my seat, an outward sign of my anxiety.

A ping alerted us of the futility of our restraints. My dad rose from his seat and informed Robert that he had dropped his passport. Handing him back the aforementioned item, Cobb then struck up a conversation, I could only assume about his father and his recent passing. I watched out of my peripheral, refusing to give away any indication of the relationship between the seven people joining Robert’s flight. It ended with my father joining Robert in a drink which I assume contained a secret ingredient.

Within seconds, he was out. This was our go sign. Everyone jumped up, attending to their stations as the first-class flight attendant retrieved our case. Before joining the others, I ran over to Robert’s limp form and kneeled down between his legs. My hand glided over his arm and returned to his pulse point. With the other I cupped his face and with soft strokes I allowed my thumb to peel his eye open.

“What are you doing?” Cobb had spotted my unusual position.

“Just making sure he’s okay.” I answered with an innocent tone. I rose, self-conscious of my position, and joined the others in retrieving my own IV.

I returned to my seat and inserted it into my vein. I looked around at their stone cold faces and righted my expression to fit with the crowd. Here we fucking go.

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LAYER ONE: THE CITY

My eyes shot open and the first thing I felt was cold. Lashes of rain pelting down on my shivering form. Interestingly I hadn’t planned an outfit for such weather as such weather was supposed to be impossible. I shivered in my thin blouse and jeans, hugging my black leather jacket tighter in a feeble attempt at retaining heat.

I took in the dream around me, familiarising myself with the skyscrapers so my brain registered the route of the maze. Cars and their horns blared around me, my frame jumping at each new sound. I traipsed further up the street hoping to find my dad or Eames.

Suddenly, a red car pulled up next to me. The door was ripped open, and a loud voice ordered me to get in. We drove further in silence and picked up Yusuf. Unfortunately, with seven of us, room was limited. And I found myself being lifted into Arthur’s lap. I felt him shift under me at the foreign position, but he kept his hands civil, whether out of respect for me or fear of my father, I couldn’t say. But after many days of icing out on his part I couldn’t deny that the contact was comforting.

“You couldn’t have peed before we went under?” Arthur fumed from behind me.

“Sorry.” Yusuf meekly uttered.

“Bit too much free champagne before takeoff, eh, Yusuf?” Eames teased from the front.

“Oh, ha bloody ha.” I smirked over to Yusuf, trying to distract myself with amusement.

“Well we know he’s gonna be looking for a taxi in this weather.” My dad dragged us back to the plan at hand. We pulled off from the curb. As we drove we latched on to a taxi and Cobb rammed us into the back of it. When the driver stormed out of his vehicle, he was met with a gun pointed at his face.

“Walk away.” Cobb threatened. The driver left in a hurry. Saito exited our car but before Arthur left he turned back to where he’d lifted me off his lap. He gave me a light hug before finally leaving. Once the door closed again, I felt something different weighing down my body. I looked to an unusual bump under my jacket and pulled it back to reveal a holster with a loaded pistol. My weapon of choice. I smiled a little looking to Arthur’s retreating form. He’d never leave me vulnerable.

We followed Arthur and Saito a few yards before I saw Robert, out in the rain, flagging them down. Once they stopped and he was about to get in, Eames left our car in favour of disrupting Robert by appearing to steal his taxi. I stayed back, holding my breath. I feared to speak, fearing the quivering tone of my thoughts.

We pulled over once more to pick up a sopping wet Ariadne. She seemed grateful for the shelter.

I glanced down at the crisp white watch I always brought on any heist. It’s always good to track time when time is working against you. If the schedule was right Saito will have initiated the kidnapping part of the scheme. Ariadne turned to speak but before any words could come out, I felt the breath be ripped from my body and out my stomach. The car hurtled to the side and threw its occupants into a whirl.

I looked up, brushing my wet locks away from my eyeline. The sight I saw made my stomach lurch. A freight train. Hurtling straight through any hopes I had of getting home.

As I seemed to regain function, my courage was dashed as bullets pierced the metal. Specially trained projections targeted our two cars. I fumed at the sight of these men, knowing that this kind of dream training never appeared in our research. I watched Arthur manoeuvre the taxi, feeling lucky it was in his hands. But as more shots rained down, I grew determined. I took a crowbar from the boot and smashed out the rear window.

“KEEP US BEHIND THE TAXI!” I yelled over the newly acquired street noise to my Dad who took my meaning and tailed us to the boys, blocking the projections shot. I fetched my pistol out of the holster. I lay across the back seat rests and straightened out my arms in front of me. Pistol was positioned in a perfect line. I closed one eye. My thumb gripped the trigger down and I felt the bullet unfurl from the chamber.

Direct hit.

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We arrived at the abandoned warehouse that would be our stage. The two cars skidded in and as I exited, pistol still in hand, I noticed commotion between the others.

“Get Fischer in the back room now!” I saw them haul Fischer’s body out of the car and drag him away from my sight. I couldn’t help following him with my eyes and I tried to stifle the sigh that escaped once I saw him unharmed. I quickly composed myself and focused on the situation at hand. Saito was hurt.

“Has he been shot? Is he – he dying?” Ariadne stuttered out as Arthur carefully hurled his form out. I could see the blood seeping through his shirt. I noticed how his eyes lapsed back into his skull as if retreating from the pain.

“I don’t know.”

“Jesus christ.” My dad leaned down to him in order to assess the situation.

“Where were you? What happened to you?” Arthur questioned our whereabouts.

“We got hit by a freight strain.” I managed to stutter out through intermittent breaths.

“Why would you put a train crossing in the middle of a downtown intersection?” Arthur spat at Ariadne.

“I didn’t!” she defended.

“Well, where did it come from then?” Arthur would not let this go. I was confused and scared but if we focused on a singular fault, we’d lose sight of the end goal. And that was all that mattered now. Inception was about improvisation and now I had to improvise a runaway train being a totally normal thing to happen.

“Well, let me ask you a question, why the hell were we ambushed?” My dad screamed down at Arthur. “Those were not normal projections! They’d been trained for god’s sake!”

“You’re right.”

“How could he be trained?” Ariadne questioned.

Arthur calmed his breathing. “Fischer’s had an extractor teach his subconscious to defend itself.” I had to give it to Arthur he had an ability to stay calm in the face of unbridled attacks in the field. Which usually came from my dad. “so his subconscious is militarised. It should have shown in the research, I’m sorry.” He chanced a glance to my shaking frame. He surveyed the range of cuts on my arms and face from broken glass. “I’m sorry.” He softly uttered in my direction, but failing to meet my eyes.

“SO WHY THE HELL DIDN’T IT!” My Dad practically screamed at us now.

“Calm down.” Arthur tried to subdue his fury, lest it seep onto the entire team.

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! THAT WAS YOUR JOB GODDAMMIT!” Arthur rose to meet Cobbs intimidating stance. “That was your responsibility!” He shoved his finger into Arthur’s face. “You were meant to check Fischer’s background thoroughly! We are not prepared for this type of violence!”

“We have dealt with sub-security before.” I gently reminded the men. “We’re just going to have to be a little more careful.”

Dad now directed his anger towards me. “This was not a part of the plan!" He gestured down towards Saito’s writhing frame. "Now he’s dying for god’s sake!”

Eames appeared from the side of us; he brandished a gun in front of Saito’s face. “Put him out of his misery.” He went to press the trigger before he was manhandled out of the way. Dad now had him locked against the car, gripping his offending hand.

“No, no, no don’t do that!” Cobb now furiously stated his opposition as Eames feebly tried to calm him down. Primarily so he’d release him.

“He’s in agony, I’m waking him up.” Eames defended.

“No. It won’t wake him up.” I froze hearing the words escape my dad’s mouth. You die and you wake up. That’s what happens.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up? When we die in a dream, we wake up.” Eames was repeating so he could convince himself.

“Not from this.” Yusuf spoke up. “We’re too heavily sedated to wake up that way.” Our gazes were firmly fixed on Yusuf, in disbelief of what we were hearing. One thought danced around my brain and only Eames had the guts to speak it out.

“Right. So what happens when we die?” He looked on at my dad for the answer he didn’t want.

“We drop into limbo.”

My heart plummeted out of my ribs and lodged down below. I managed to catch my breath but only in shaky little outbursts that were more like spits than any substantial amount of oxygen.

“Are you serious?” Arthur fumed upon the knowledge of this.

“Limbo?” Ariadne questioned fearfully.

“Unconcentrated dream space.”

“Well, what the hell is down there?” She built upon her question.

“Just raw, infinite subconscious.” Arthur’s voice began to build. “Nothing is down there, except for whatever may have been left behind by anyone sharing the dream who’s been trapped there before.” My saddened eyes followed my father, along with Arthur, both knowing that whatever was down there was a product between him…and Mal. “Which in our case, is you.”

“Well, how long could we be stuck there?” Ariadne wanted to claw the words back down in her throat.

“Couldn’t even think about escape before the sedation wears off.” Yusuf spluttered out his answer.

“Well how long Yusuf?” Eames was now irritated and used it to mask his fear.

“Decades – infinite – I don’t know. Ask him. He’s the one who’s been there.” He weakly gestured to my dad who’d begun to pace, avoiding our stares.

No one had looked my way as I hadn’t contributed to the conversation at hand. Dad was directed away from me, running his hands over his face as if he was waking from a deep sleep. He spun back into the group as a loud sob broke from my throat. Tears welled up and spilled out as the reality of the situation sank in. This job had already been dangerous but now I had lost the way out that could always be a crutch to the impending fear of the deep subconscious. Dad rushed to embrace me. He tucked my head into his chest and placed a kiss on my hairline.

“It’s okay, it’s okay sweetheart.” He softly cooed at me. “We’re gonna be okay.” I could no longer feel if the words were directed at me…or him. I feverishly wiped away the salty tears as they dried on my skin. I peeled myself away and looked up with a soft smile. In a silent nod of contentment. But as our eyes met I saw a flicker of regret when he saw me for what I truly was. His child.

The other boys hoisted Saito up and took him away. I knew the deeper we went, the pain would lessen. But my heart still ached for the agony waiting for him and the risk that came along with it.

Once the boys returned, Dad brought us all back to the task at hand. He addressed us explaining the outlines of the kidnapping scenario and how we’d use it to get Fischer to conjure up a safe combination which we would later use to reveal the will.

I had tucked my body into myself, my mind still running on adrenaline. I jumped back in once dad turned towards me, his next statement aimed for me.

“Honey, because of the dire situation and his clear kidnapping training we need to go harder.” I rolled my eyes feeling the direction of the conversation. “Sweetheart, we need to do ‘Damsel in Distress’.” My heart picked up speed.

“What’s that?” Ariadne questioned. It truly brought me back to how she had been dumped into this unknown world with very little knowledge. Like being dropped in a stormy ocean at night with a singular life ring.

“It’s a technique we use where y/n acts as an innocent victim to gain the marks trust.” Arthur filled her in whilst Dad stared at my expression incredulously. “Once she’s struck up a rapport we pretend to torture her. We’ve found this works with certain men, like Robert. Rich pretty boys who jerk off to the idea of being a knight in shining armour.”

I glared at Arthur’s unnecessary add-ons. He at least had the decency to look ashamed at being noticed by myself.

“Thing is I don’t think I can.” I meekly whispered. Closing in on myself further.

“What do you mean?” My dad asked.

“Because he saw me.” I stuttered out.

“That thing on the plane?” My dad’s annoyance was growing. He bent down and held my shoulders. “That wasn’t long enough to having any lasting effect on the memory.” He huffed out.

“There was another time.” My voice barely broke the room’s air and Eames' face fell as he knew what was to follow. My dad halted and I felt anger seep his veins as his hands left my shoulders. “At the office when Eames and I were doing intel. There was a – moment – well he – We talked.”

“You talked? You fucking talked with the subject?” My dad stormed away and whacked his fist into the car. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I don’t know – I just –” I stammered out in the face of my fathers fury. He laughed in disbelief at my nervous shakes.

“Such a fucking child.” He rubbed his hands over his face, unwilling to look at me in this moment.

I scoffed. “I’m only a child when it suits you.” I stated confidently, my previous anxiety dissipating in the face of his insult. We both entered into a stare down, neither willing to retreat. Our silence hung heavy.

“What does it matter.” Eames tried to pacify the two of us. “The further down we go, the fuzzier his recollection becomes.”

“It matters now!” Dad hissed. He withdrew, his disappointment evident in his stance.

“I was wearing glasses!” I shouted unconvinced at my own excuse. He spun to face me.

“It doesn’t matter, his brain now has an image of you with glasses and without so his unconscious mind will meld the two to form an exact image of you.” He left once again, desperate to forget the conversation.

“I can still do this!” I yelled with conviction. He turned back round to deliver a final blow.

“No. You can’t.” my heart clamped as his words settled in. My tears falling was the only feeling I could register in my numb frame.

God, what have I done.

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