[FIC] And The Rest Will Come - PG-13 - 7031 - 1/3
Title: And The Rest Will Come
Chapter: One
Author: koushi
Pairing: Cobb/Robert
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7031 (total)
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or any of its characters.
Summary/Prompt: Written for these prompts, one and two, on inception_kink . Angst, romance, and fluff.
Warnings: Cursing, mild violence.
As he walked briskly through the crowded station, Robert Fischer glanced down at his white-gold wristwatch, a present from Uncle Peter for his last birthday. Oh, good, only 3:15, he thought, breathing a sigh of relief. He would make it on time for the next train back to Los Angeles.
If he’d believed in superstition, he’d have found it quite eerie that such a string of bad luck had been following him since his father passed, as if he were being haunted by his specter. Unfinished business, perhaps? He would have told his father that it was okay, that he already knew what he’d had to say. That is, if he believed in such tomfoolery… which he most certainly did not.
Still, he had to wonder why every time he needed to travel to promote his new start-up company, Fischer Logistics, Inc., his private jet and vehicles would find themselves in varying states of disrepair. This time one of the engines of his plane was making strange noises, and his personal mechanic was on holiday. Grudgingly he took the only available option: public transportation.
“Hello? Mr. McDaniels? This is Robert, yes, I’m doing very well, thank you. I’m sorry to inform you, but I may be an hour or so late for the meeting. You see, my jet is having issues again. Yes, again. Don’t I know it? Anyway, there were no more seats on flights out today, so I was forced to take the train. Uh huh, it’s been a while for me as well. Okay, glad to hear you can cover for me until my arrival. Thank you, and see you in a bit,” Robert hung up and replaced his cell phone in his breast pocket as he rested his head back against the cushioned recliner. At least the seats were comfortable in First Class.
As he sipped at his glass of Perrier, he felt himself become drowsy. That was another thing that had changed recently: his stamina for long trips had withered away, making him feel prematurely old. Any time he endured any significant sort of travel, he felt himself fall almost immediately into the land of dreams.
This time was no exception. A moment of emptiness, as if he were sucked into the vacuum of deep space, and then poof, he resurfaced in a new universe entirely.
“You again,” Robert said tersely to the man next to him at the hotel bar, trying to mask the uncontrollable smile curling his lips, placing in its stead a cool nonchalance.
“Always so happy to see me,” the blond man returned the grin as he straightened his tie, glancing fondly at Robert as if he had been waiting eagerly for his arrival. He ordered a scotch from the bartender, who eyed him somewhat warily but poured his drink nonetheless, sliding it forward carelessly. A few drips spilled over, and Robert offered his handkerchief to his ever-present dream companion.
“Thank you, Mr. Fischer,” Mr. Charles said, sopping up the alcohol from the counter gingerly. Robert sipped at the glass of carbonated water that had been waiting for him; he didn’t like drinking in dreams, preferring to experience everything with as much lucidity as possible. But he almost wanted to make an exception today, due to the task he’d promised himself to accomplish.
After a pause, Robert began reluctantly, as if reading from some ill-drafted script, “I, um, appreciate your watching over me, but I assure you that there is no longer any danger. You’ve prepared me well enough by now, and I am perfectly aware of what my father intended for me. My business is doing well, and I am self-sufficient to the point that Uncle Peter is in shambles at not being able to call any more shots.”
“He is a bit of a control freak, isn’t he?” Mr. Charles chuckled, but his laughter fizzled to respond to the serious nature of the proposal. “But what does this really mean, Mr. Fischer? I support your newly-found independence wholeheartedly, but the idea that you’d want to be rid of me… well, that does sting a bit.”
“That’s the very issue,” Robert replied, biting at his lower lip nervously. Why is it so hard to break up with your own subconscious? No… I believe the question is, why did you fall in love with a figment of your imagination in the first place? “You see, I don’t think this is healthy for me… I know that you live solely in my head, and that I am talking to myself right now. But I find it necessary to explain to you, on account of the times that we’ve shared together, that I can’t live like this anymore.”
Mr. Charles slid his hand close, placing it over Robert’s, whose owner stiffened initially but allowed himself this one last indulgence. Their fingers intertwined, Mr. Charles replied, his voice no louder than a murmur, “Are you saying that you wouldn’t miss this? That you wouldn’t miss me?”
“I… That’s… that’s not what I meant. It’s that I care too much about something that doesn’t even exist to anyone but me,” Robert explained gruffly, trying to restrain himself from pulling his erstwhile lover into an embrace. “You don’t exist.” And it torments me every waking hour that we can’t be together in reality. “I need to move on with my life. Be my own man like you encouraged me to be. So I can’t rely on some phantasmal protector I’ve conjured up.” Even if I inadvertently fell for him.
A tense silence prevailed. Mr. Charles seemed to be struggling to come up with a reason, any palpable reason why he should continue to represent Robert Fischer’s mental security squad, but he drew only blanks. There was no reason for this, never was; it had been raw, instinctual, inexplicable love from the start. “So this is the last time…?”
Robert sighed. “I know I can’t control what my subconscious decides to show me in dreams, so we may see each other again. This is possible, even likely. But I just want it to be understood that there won’t be anything more between us. We’re both a part of me after all.” What was that phrase that I vaguely remember? We’re lovers-two halves of a whole.
Mr. Charles nodded slowly in defeat, his gaze staring off into space. “Right. You’re the boss.” But at that moment, he never would have expected Robert to pull him close by their clasped hands, kissing him for dear life, pressing their lips together as if one were drowning and the other were air.
How will you breathe now? Robert asked himself as they separated, his internal resonation bittersweet. I guess I’ll just have to learn how to swim on my own… or die trying.
“Goodbye, Mr. Charles.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Fischer.”
***
Cobb looked forlorn to say the least as he hung up his jacket and tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. “Did the kids behave?” he asked in a monotone, already aware of the answer.
“Of course, Dom. They’ve always been perfect angels,” Miles replied as he sat comfortably at the dining table, eyeing his son-in-law from behind his reading glasses as he perused an architectural journal.
“Good, good,” Cobb said, expressionless as he removed an unread letter from its envelope and put it back in three times with unsteady hands. Every time he woke up from one of his and Robert’s shared dreams, it was a rush. A rush to repack the PASIV and exit the premises-or in this case the First Class cabin-before his subject awoke. It had usually been accompanied by a glow, a burst of joy that lit up his face for the next week with smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. However, this time, it had been completely different. He moved almost sluggishly, as if he wanted to delay the inevitable, forget the truth that they’d never see one another again. Nevertheless, he clicked the metal case shut and shuffled out the door just in time, hearing a languid yawn escape behind him.
But that was then, and this was now. Now he was home again, to resume the life he was meant to follow, to accept that in this life, his and Robert’s paths were never meant to cross. In fact, if the young Fischer were to find out that he’d been sabotaging his vehicles, lying to him about being his head of security while sneaking into his dreams, not to mention illegally incepting him with false information, information that had rebuilt him and caused him to believe himself again, why… Cobb could never live with himself. Probable prison sentences and millions of dollars in civil liability aside, he could never live with the idea that he was responsible for carrying Robert up high to the tallest mountain, only to push him off the edge of a cliff, to watch him tumble the endless distance to the ground below.
Miles cleared his throat, breaking Cobb’s deep reverie. “But I think the pertinent question here is whether you’re okay. Every time you come home from these so-called business trips-which, by the way, seem to take a lot out of you-I wonder if you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with thieves and scoundrels again. Please, Dom, for my sake and for the children’s sake, tell me if there’s something I should know.”
Cobb forced a reassuring smile, braving his despair to try and put the past behind him. He’d overcome his guilt about Mal’s death and come to terms with her absence, promising that he’d raise their kids with as much love as a father could muster. So why couldn’t he just blink away this forbidden romance, brush it off like the silly fantasy that it was? “Even if there were anything to share with you, Miles, I’m through with this business now. I’m home for good.”
***
Robert tried his best to breathe despite his head being wrapped in an all-too-familiar burlap sack. Like a recurring dream. It was suffocating, his hot breath reflected back at him due to the thickly-woven, semi-porous material. He’d just come to, disoriented-his body slamming into the side of the lurching vehicle with every gear-shift-and licked his bottom lip, which felt strangely hot, tasting blood and realizing that it was cut, most likely from bumping into something while unconscious. Trying to move his limbs, Robert found that his hands and feet were bound tightly at the wrists and ankles. A kidnapping if I ever experienced one.
The question was, however, whether this was within a dream or reality. He pondered hard as to his last memories before finding himself taken for ransom. He saw flashes of orange… the sky as the sun was beginning to set over the horizon of shopping malls and parking garages… It had been evening, and he had been purchasing something, a gift. Perhaps for his old friend from boarding school, who had recently confided in Robert that he was to become a father. He nervously paced the room, pondering his failings and the many ways he wasn’t fit to be a role model to his future son. “You’ll be a great father,” Robert had replied, surprised at how choked up he’d suddenly become. “Just show him how much you love him, and the rest will come.”
But this didn’t explain anything. He could have fallen asleep on the trip back: his chauffeur was a meticulously cautious man, and his limousine was particularly adept at shock absorption. Or, on the other hand, it was perfectly possible that he had been drugged and stuffed, like a turkey in the oven, into the getaway vehicle by greedy mobsters.
He had his ten million dollar kidnapping insurance policy, of course, but… any dirtbag with insider information would quickly find that they could easily demand more than fivefold as long as they sent properly menacing threats to Uncle Peter and his formerly conglomerated corporate group. Ten million… that was a trip around the block for them.
Besides, kidnappers, if truly professional, could always grab the money and dispose of him in any fashion they saw fit, including, of course, death. Robert tried to keep his heart from racing and his lungs from hyperventilation as he huffed the recycled air.
If only you were here, I could bear it. Just to see you one last time… He hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of Mr. Charles since that last farewell, and his slumber had suffered accordingly. Sleepless nights he spent strolling aimlessly through his penthouse condo in the darkness, as if, by the grace of some magic he’d never believed in, his lover would appear before him, forgiving him for his thoughtless words. I never wanted to say goodbye; I didn’t realize that you’d cease to be a part of me, somehow. And now that you’re gone, I just don’t feel like the same person anymore. I want me back, and to have that, I have to have you as well.
But, as he knew, there was no such thing as ghosts, as magic, as fairy tales with white knights who sweep in to rescue their damsels in distress. Yet Robert still clung to the thin threads of belief that, dream or reality, Mr. Charles would materialize before him at the last possible moment… and that there would be such a thing as “happily ever after.”
Next Chapter
Chapter: One
Author: koushi
Pairing: Cobb/Robert
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7031 (total)
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception or any of its characters.
Summary/Prompt: Written for these prompts, one and two, on inception_kink . Angst, romance, and fluff.
Warnings: Cursing, mild violence.
As he walked briskly through the crowded station, Robert Fischer glanced down at his white-gold wristwatch, a present from Uncle Peter for his last birthday. Oh, good, only 3:15, he thought, breathing a sigh of relief. He would make it on time for the next train back to Los Angeles.
If he’d believed in superstition, he’d have found it quite eerie that such a string of bad luck had been following him since his father passed, as if he were being haunted by his specter. Unfinished business, perhaps? He would have told his father that it was okay, that he already knew what he’d had to say. That is, if he believed in such tomfoolery… which he most certainly did not.
Still, he had to wonder why every time he needed to travel to promote his new start-up company, Fischer Logistics, Inc., his private jet and vehicles would find themselves in varying states of disrepair. This time one of the engines of his plane was making strange noises, and his personal mechanic was on holiday. Grudgingly he took the only available option: public transportation.
“Hello? Mr. McDaniels? This is Robert, yes, I’m doing very well, thank you. I’m sorry to inform you, but I may be an hour or so late for the meeting. You see, my jet is having issues again. Yes, again. Don’t I know it? Anyway, there were no more seats on flights out today, so I was forced to take the train. Uh huh, it’s been a while for me as well. Okay, glad to hear you can cover for me until my arrival. Thank you, and see you in a bit,” Robert hung up and replaced his cell phone in his breast pocket as he rested his head back against the cushioned recliner. At least the seats were comfortable in First Class.
As he sipped at his glass of Perrier, he felt himself become drowsy. That was another thing that had changed recently: his stamina for long trips had withered away, making him feel prematurely old. Any time he endured any significant sort of travel, he felt himself fall almost immediately into the land of dreams.
This time was no exception. A moment of emptiness, as if he were sucked into the vacuum of deep space, and then poof, he resurfaced in a new universe entirely.
“You again,” Robert said tersely to the man next to him at the hotel bar, trying to mask the uncontrollable smile curling his lips, placing in its stead a cool nonchalance.
“Always so happy to see me,” the blond man returned the grin as he straightened his tie, glancing fondly at Robert as if he had been waiting eagerly for his arrival. He ordered a scotch from the bartender, who eyed him somewhat warily but poured his drink nonetheless, sliding it forward carelessly. A few drips spilled over, and Robert offered his handkerchief to his ever-present dream companion.
“Thank you, Mr. Fischer,” Mr. Charles said, sopping up the alcohol from the counter gingerly. Robert sipped at the glass of carbonated water that had been waiting for him; he didn’t like drinking in dreams, preferring to experience everything with as much lucidity as possible. But he almost wanted to make an exception today, due to the task he’d promised himself to accomplish.
After a pause, Robert began reluctantly, as if reading from some ill-drafted script, “I, um, appreciate your watching over me, but I assure you that there is no longer any danger. You’ve prepared me well enough by now, and I am perfectly aware of what my father intended for me. My business is doing well, and I am self-sufficient to the point that Uncle Peter is in shambles at not being able to call any more shots.”
“He is a bit of a control freak, isn’t he?” Mr. Charles chuckled, but his laughter fizzled to respond to the serious nature of the proposal. “But what does this really mean, Mr. Fischer? I support your newly-found independence wholeheartedly, but the idea that you’d want to be rid of me… well, that does sting a bit.”
“That’s the very issue,” Robert replied, biting at his lower lip nervously. Why is it so hard to break up with your own subconscious? No… I believe the question is, why did you fall in love with a figment of your imagination in the first place? “You see, I don’t think this is healthy for me… I know that you live solely in my head, and that I am talking to myself right now. But I find it necessary to explain to you, on account of the times that we’ve shared together, that I can’t live like this anymore.”
Mr. Charles slid his hand close, placing it over Robert’s, whose owner stiffened initially but allowed himself this one last indulgence. Their fingers intertwined, Mr. Charles replied, his voice no louder than a murmur, “Are you saying that you wouldn’t miss this? That you wouldn’t miss me?”
“I… That’s… that’s not what I meant. It’s that I care too much about something that doesn’t even exist to anyone but me,” Robert explained gruffly, trying to restrain himself from pulling his erstwhile lover into an embrace. “You don’t exist.” And it torments me every waking hour that we can’t be together in reality. “I need to move on with my life. Be my own man like you encouraged me to be. So I can’t rely on some phantasmal protector I’ve conjured up.” Even if I inadvertently fell for him.
A tense silence prevailed. Mr. Charles seemed to be struggling to come up with a reason, any palpable reason why he should continue to represent Robert Fischer’s mental security squad, but he drew only blanks. There was no reason for this, never was; it had been raw, instinctual, inexplicable love from the start. “So this is the last time…?”
Robert sighed. “I know I can’t control what my subconscious decides to show me in dreams, so we may see each other again. This is possible, even likely. But I just want it to be understood that there won’t be anything more between us. We’re both a part of me after all.” What was that phrase that I vaguely remember? We’re lovers-two halves of a whole.
Mr. Charles nodded slowly in defeat, his gaze staring off into space. “Right. You’re the boss.” But at that moment, he never would have expected Robert to pull him close by their clasped hands, kissing him for dear life, pressing their lips together as if one were drowning and the other were air.
How will you breathe now? Robert asked himself as they separated, his internal resonation bittersweet. I guess I’ll just have to learn how to swim on my own… or die trying.
“Goodbye, Mr. Charles.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Fischer.”
***
Cobb looked forlorn to say the least as he hung up his jacket and tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter. “Did the kids behave?” he asked in a monotone, already aware of the answer.
“Of course, Dom. They’ve always been perfect angels,” Miles replied as he sat comfortably at the dining table, eyeing his son-in-law from behind his reading glasses as he perused an architectural journal.
“Good, good,” Cobb said, expressionless as he removed an unread letter from its envelope and put it back in three times with unsteady hands. Every time he woke up from one of his and Robert’s shared dreams, it was a rush. A rush to repack the PASIV and exit the premises-or in this case the First Class cabin-before his subject awoke. It had usually been accompanied by a glow, a burst of joy that lit up his face for the next week with smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. However, this time, it had been completely different. He moved almost sluggishly, as if he wanted to delay the inevitable, forget the truth that they’d never see one another again. Nevertheless, he clicked the metal case shut and shuffled out the door just in time, hearing a languid yawn escape behind him.
But that was then, and this was now. Now he was home again, to resume the life he was meant to follow, to accept that in this life, his and Robert’s paths were never meant to cross. In fact, if the young Fischer were to find out that he’d been sabotaging his vehicles, lying to him about being his head of security while sneaking into his dreams, not to mention illegally incepting him with false information, information that had rebuilt him and caused him to believe himself again, why… Cobb could never live with himself. Probable prison sentences and millions of dollars in civil liability aside, he could never live with the idea that he was responsible for carrying Robert up high to the tallest mountain, only to push him off the edge of a cliff, to watch him tumble the endless distance to the ground below.
Miles cleared his throat, breaking Cobb’s deep reverie. “But I think the pertinent question here is whether you’re okay. Every time you come home from these so-called business trips-which, by the way, seem to take a lot out of you-I wonder if you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with thieves and scoundrels again. Please, Dom, for my sake and for the children’s sake, tell me if there’s something I should know.”
Cobb forced a reassuring smile, braving his despair to try and put the past behind him. He’d overcome his guilt about Mal’s death and come to terms with her absence, promising that he’d raise their kids with as much love as a father could muster. So why couldn’t he just blink away this forbidden romance, brush it off like the silly fantasy that it was? “Even if there were anything to share with you, Miles, I’m through with this business now. I’m home for good.”
***
Robert tried his best to breathe despite his head being wrapped in an all-too-familiar burlap sack. Like a recurring dream. It was suffocating, his hot breath reflected back at him due to the thickly-woven, semi-porous material. He’d just come to, disoriented-his body slamming into the side of the lurching vehicle with every gear-shift-and licked his bottom lip, which felt strangely hot, tasting blood and realizing that it was cut, most likely from bumping into something while unconscious. Trying to move his limbs, Robert found that his hands and feet were bound tightly at the wrists and ankles. A kidnapping if I ever experienced one.
The question was, however, whether this was within a dream or reality. He pondered hard as to his last memories before finding himself taken for ransom. He saw flashes of orange… the sky as the sun was beginning to set over the horizon of shopping malls and parking garages… It had been evening, and he had been purchasing something, a gift. Perhaps for his old friend from boarding school, who had recently confided in Robert that he was to become a father. He nervously paced the room, pondering his failings and the many ways he wasn’t fit to be a role model to his future son. “You’ll be a great father,” Robert had replied, surprised at how choked up he’d suddenly become. “Just show him how much you love him, and the rest will come.”
But this didn’t explain anything. He could have fallen asleep on the trip back: his chauffeur was a meticulously cautious man, and his limousine was particularly adept at shock absorption. Or, on the other hand, it was perfectly possible that he had been drugged and stuffed, like a turkey in the oven, into the getaway vehicle by greedy mobsters.
He had his ten million dollar kidnapping insurance policy, of course, but… any dirtbag with insider information would quickly find that they could easily demand more than fivefold as long as they sent properly menacing threats to Uncle Peter and his formerly conglomerated corporate group. Ten million… that was a trip around the block for them.
Besides, kidnappers, if truly professional, could always grab the money and dispose of him in any fashion they saw fit, including, of course, death. Robert tried to keep his heart from racing and his lungs from hyperventilation as he huffed the recycled air.
If only you were here, I could bear it. Just to see you one last time… He hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of Mr. Charles since that last farewell, and his slumber had suffered accordingly. Sleepless nights he spent strolling aimlessly through his penthouse condo in the darkness, as if, by the grace of some magic he’d never believed in, his lover would appear before him, forgiving him for his thoughtless words. I never wanted to say goodbye; I didn’t realize that you’d cease to be a part of me, somehow. And now that you’re gone, I just don’t feel like the same person anymore. I want me back, and to have that, I have to have you as well.
But, as he knew, there was no such thing as ghosts, as magic, as fairy tales with white knights who sweep in to rescue their damsels in distress. Yet Robert still clung to the thin threads of belief that, dream or reality, Mr. Charles would materialize before him at the last possible moment… and that there would be such a thing as “happily ever after.”
Next Chapter