(Inception/Narnia) Always Halfway to Somewhere Pt. 2 for xover_exchange

[aurilly]

Finally, after the sun had already sunk down below the Parisian skyline, they were decided upon a plan. After a quick break to retrieve more caffeine beverages of choice, they returned to the room and sat around the table, where Arthur had the order of action drawn up. He began without preamble.

“The first level of the dream will be the upper floor of Dr Pevensie’s own house. The construction of this dream level will be restricted only to the house, to minimise interference from projections, as we will only be here for a small amount of time. We will encourage her to go through the wardrobe, which will be bigger on the inside, and the clothes will be brushed with an anaesthetic concocted by Yusuf, sedating her within the dream. We can then connect the rest of us to the machine to proceed to the next level, which she will seemingly enter from the other side of the wardrobe - hopefully the transition will seem seamless. Yusuf will be the dreamer for the first level and so will be able to monitor the sedatives in the clothes, and Ariadne, you’ll be the dreamer for the second level.”

“Really?” said Ariadne in surprise, “But I’ve never been the dreamer before. At least, not for something like this.”

“I know. But this way, you can know the exact layout of the environment you’re supposed to be building, and dream it the way you’ve read it. Eames has to play multiple people, so he’s out, and I have to stay awake to synchronize the kicks. Also, you’re the one she knows best, it may be that her projections won’t label you as the dreamer immediately, because you might already be in there.”

While Ariadne tried to wrap her head around this, Eames spoke up, saying, “Yusuf, you’d better make damn sure you include some deliberate tiny differences in her room for us to recognize, or we’re going to be screwed.”

“Don’t worry about that,” grinned Yusuf, “I’m thinking porn in her bedside table.”

“I don’t know, Dr Pevensie might be the type -”

“The second level,” cut in Arthur again, “will be this world of ‘Narnia’, as best as we can reconstruct it. Hopefully, if we make her feel like she is welcome there, she will populate it with positive things rather than negative. Eames, you’ll depict people she knows from there, further cementing that belief. The idea is, if your portrayal makes her believe she’s welcome there, her other projections will take up the same idea and reinforce it. Ariadne, you’ll monitor the environment, check for signs of hostility - and, if she seems like she is becoming too convinced, will pose as yourself and remind her of her obligations to the real world,” he added, directly to her, with a flash of a reassuring smile. She managed one back, and he returned to facing everyone at the table.

“The sedatives Yusuf has brought will knock us out for an hour only,” he went on. “So we’ll have 12 hours in the first level, six days on the second level. If you die, you end up back in the level above.”

Eames nodded approvingly. “Don’t need a repeat of the Fischer incident.”

“Well, you won’t be needing the same amount of time as that heist did, nor do you need to go as deep. I will play the music at three minutes in - just over half an hour for you, Yusuf - and administer the kick 10 seconds after that, another couple of minutes for Yusuf, about twenty minutes for you in the dream, enough to get Susan back to the ‘wardrobe’. But know that dying is still a way back to the real world in an emergency.” He put down his much-scribbled-upon pad. “Oh, and speaking of the Fischer incident, before we begin final preparations, I must ask - does anyone have a dead wife haunting their subconscious, who may manifest as a train or similar? Because if it turns out you do and you don’t tell me, in the dream, I WILL shoot you in the face.”

Eames raised his hand. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Will she try and shoot us?”

“She might try and hit us with a frying pan.”

“I think we can deal with that. Right, to your reading, people. See you back here in the morning.”

Everyone stood up to leave, and Arthur approached Ariadne. “What are you up to tonight? I was just remembering that little restaurant in Montmartre we found last time, fancy it?”

Ariadne was piling all of her notes into her arms. “Thanks, but I’ve got an entire fantasy world to construct. I’m going to try out some of the sketches, but it’s probably going to be really open, not sure how I’ll keep projections out -”

“Are you going to use the machine again?”

“Not for the first planning stages, but I would like to try out a couple of designs, it makes it far easier to see the designs I’m trying to do, and - hey, Arthur, wait up!” He had abruptly turned to walk away towards the door. Ariadne, surprised, struggled to keep her pile of notes stable and hurried after him. “What is with you?”

For a moment she wasn’t sure if he was going to turn round, but as he passed the doorframe, he caught it with one hand, as though stopping himself. He turned to face her, his expression betraying nothing. “It’s just - we have all the time in the world with this project. There’s no deadline. I know you like the machine it to test designs, but that’s only necessary at the final stages, and you definitely don’t need it just to work faster.”

Ariadne stared. “I know all that, but it makes things way easier. This is a big job, it’s complicated - and I don’t have ‘all the time’, some of us are penniless students, remember? I need to get back to all that work Dr Pevensie was chewing me out over last week. What are all the other professors going to say? Why does this bother you so much?”

“I’m just concerned that if you depend on it too much, you won’t be able to stop.”

“Of course I will! What, do you think I’m - that I’m addicted, or something?” Even as she said it like it was a joke, she got the horrible feeling in her gut that he did. His face just confirmed it. “Oh god, you do!”

“Ariadne -”

“It is a tool, Arthur, a tool which helps me do my job. If you don’t like it, kick me off the team, but I don’t know how else I’m supposed to help finish building this ‘fantasy world’ without just mapping Dr Pevensie’s brain directly. You got a camera that takes pictures in dreams? Maybe a little memory card I can bring back?”

“You were the one who was worrying earlier what would happen when the technology was more widely available! How it could change people? It already has. It’s changed you, Ariadne.” He turned and started to walk away, but halfway down the corridor, he turned back and called, “Funny how your ‘timesaver’ means you never seem to have time to spend with your friends anymore!”

Ariadne opened her mouth to yell a protest back, but was forced to close it again when her brain failed to supply one. Part of her brain lingered on the uncomfortable idea that he was right, before the rest shouted it down with the far more satisfying conclusion that he was a stupidhead who didn’t know anything about anything. But she couldn’t prevent the image of Susan floating repeatedly through her mind, old and crying alone in the snow, somehow stuck halfway between this world and the world she wanted but couldn’t have.

She took excessive time and care with the reorganization of her notes into a better portable pile, just in case he wanted to come back and apologize for yelling at her for no apparent reason. When he did not come, she told herself she didn’t care anyway, and headed out of the building herself, turning off all the lights behind her.

*~*~*

The next few days proceeded smoothly, in that everyone was utterly professional and carried out the jobs to the best of their abilities. It did not escape anyone’s notice, however, that Arthur’s behaviour towards Ariadne was nothing but professional, but Yusuf decided it best not to bring it up until after the job was done, and Eames had lost all patience with them both already and was just waiting for their next drunk party.

Within several days, everything seemed to be as ready as it could be. They had one final briefing before setting out for Susan’s house, arriving several hours after they knew she would have gone to bed. The housekeeper once again let them in, once again not asking any questions, just pointing them up the stairs, though she did tell Arthur to come down and get a drink if he wanted a break at any point.

Upstairs, they set up in the hallway outside Susan’s room. It was spacious enough that this was no hardship. They fetched chairs from another room nearby for Arthur to administer kicks, and all of them inserted headphones to play music at the right time. Finally, once they were all sat comfortably, Arthur went to connect Susan to the machine - the housekeeper had been putting the sedatives in her night-time cup of tea for the last few days, ensuring good nights of sleep even when they were not planning on interfering - and Yusuf handed round the glasses of sedatives.

Ariadne was about to drink hers when Arthur emerged again from Susan’s room, and caught her eye for the first time in days. Yusuf and Eames were already falling asleep, glasses slipping from their hands, and they just looked at each other, unaware why this situation required something to be said and even more unknowing of what that should be.

Finally, Arthur said quietly, “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She quickly drained her glass and sat back, eyes closing, as she felt the drugs taking effect.

*~*~*

She opened her eyes again in what she knew to be the first dream level, Yusuf’s dream, but she would not have known that to look at it. He had recreated the hallway outside Susan’s room perfectly and, as Eames opened the door a crack, they could see the perfection in the reproduction extended in there as well.

Eames whistled softly. “Nice work,” he muttered. Yusuf grinned, but quickly returned to his business face and silently gestured them to be quiet and watch.

Across the room, the wardrobe door swung open silently. The clothes within moved gently against each other, and a breeze reached them standing behind the door, a soft breeze which just about rustled in Ariadne’s hair and caught her nose with traces of the scent of flowers and grass and open spaces. Mellow strains of pipe music faded in and out of hearing, as though getting closer and further away.

Ariadne was so distracted admiring the subtlety of Yusuf’s work that she was caught by surprise when he abruptly pulled the door to. She realized why immediately - Susan was stirring. Silently, in unison, they pressed their ears against the door to listen.

They heard movement in the bed clothes, which came to an abrupt halt. It sounded as though Susan had frozen stock-still. She must have seen the wardrobe.

“Go in go in go in go in,” muttered Eames, crossing his fingers.

The music was getting louder, because now Ariadne could faintly hear it through the door. She couldn’t hear anything else though - had Susan just decided to ignore it and go back to sleep? Just when it seemed that too much time had passed, however, they heard the movement of sheets again, and the slight thump of her feet hitting the floor. Attempting to strain every ear muscle she had and all too aware of how futile it was, Ariadne struggled to picture what was going on in the room based on only what she could hear. It sounded like Susan was heading for the wardrobe, stepping tentatively towards it. There was a pause, then the almost imperceptible slap of bare feet on wood. She was climbing inside.

Yusuf smiled grimly. “Five... four... three...”

They heard the thud before he finished ‘two’, and Yusuf quickly pushed open the door. The anaesthetic within the wardrobe had done its job, and Susan was asleep again, a deeper sleep she wouldn’t wake from as easily, which also ensured that her mental faculties would be progressing at the same speed as those of Ariadne and Eames. While Yusuf checked she was fully under, Ariadne and Eames ran to get themselves chairs, ready to be kicked off should the need arise, before plugging themselves into the machine once again.

*~*~*

This time, the place they opened their eyes could only be a dream. Ariadne was pleased to see that the forest she had constructed exactly mirrored what she could remember of Susan’s dream, down to the iron lamppost, which she had fortunately found in one of the sketches and thus not disregarded as an extraneous inserted detail from a different scene. Susan was beneath the iron lamppost, and she herself was concealed within the trees nearby. Susan was still in her nightdress, and Ariadne was in one of the many outfits they had seen in the sketches, just in case she became visible at any time, though that was not the plan. Eames was nowhere to be seen, assuming his new form, so Ariadne took a moment to check all of the surroundings were correct.

Most of the sketches had also depicted Narnia in the summer rather than the winter. As a compromise, she had built the forest as in the middle of a thaw. This decision did not seem too wrong, at least now, because Susan was looking around her, her face a mixture of wonder and fear, as though she was wary of letting herself believe where she was.

This was Eames’s job to fix, and he stepped out into her view now, changed into his new shape. “Queen Susan?” he said gently.

Susan’s head snapped up towards him. “... Caspian?”

Eames, as Caspian, bowed slightly. “Welcome back, your Majesty.”

Susan’s journals wrote occasionally of this prince who had become a new figure in their games shortly before she appeared to give them up. He also appeared in the diaries of Kirke, from accounts of Edmund and Lucy of later games they had played, but he was one of the few characters Susan wrote about or sketched even as the rest began to be left behind. None of them had been able to discern her particular relationship with him, but, as Eames was so reluctant to play a talking animal and mistakes in her siblings’ behaviour could do far more harm than good, he seemed like the best figure for him to take on. It had been difficult for him to pull together a form just from pictures and descriptions, but he had done his best. Ariadne had tried to help by making the clearing in which they stood hazily lit, so everything took on a dreamlike quality - if he was indistinct, or not precise, Susan may put it down to her own imagination or nostalgia.

Susan was looking at Caspian. Her face was moving strangely, as though struggling to fight back both tears and a smile. “Caspian? But... I can’t be here... If I were here...”

Ariadne tensed as she heard a far-off steam train whistle. Quickly, she made a breeze dance noisily through the trees and the birds increase in their singing volume to drown it out. The trees rustled slightly around her.

Eames as Caspian did not break eye contact with Susan, as though he was trying to calm a wild animal and persuade it not to bolt. He held out a hand. “We have been awaiting your return for a long time, your Majesty,” he said. “Everyone is eager to see you again.”

“Eager - to see -” Susan was looking around her, as though expecting everything to crumble away. Ariadne hastily scanned the area as well. If Susan was expecting to see something, her subconscious could very well create it in front of her. She knew no major changes could be made within the dream to risk drawing the subject’s attention - or those of her projections, if there were any about - but better that than to have her see something which might set them back or be upsetting.

She was looking directly behind Susan when she caught sight of something which made her stomach lurch - a little leg, foot clad in a black patent leather shoe, sticking out from behind a tree. There were traces of blood on the snow nearby. Ariadne suddenly knew, with rising horror, exactly what was behind that tree. Without thinking, instinctually, she pulled the ground up in front of it in a mound and pulled bushes in tighter, blocking it from view.

The trees around her were rustling more violently, and a branch caught her hair. She managed to untangle it and continued to watch as Susan turned back to Caspian, looking slightly reassured. “I’m... really here?”

Eames as Caspian just smiled, still holding out his hand. Slowly, Susan took it, and he started to lead her down the path which Ariadne had constructed. It would lead them out of the forest within minutes, but in a seemingly timeless manner, and it would get brighter and less frozen the further they went on. Ariadne allowed herself a sigh of relief. This phase had been the most difficult phase - making Susan at least entertain the notion that this was real, not a dream. Now, with a more positive frame of mind, her own subconscious could start to supply the details.

Ariadne began to follow but paused as Susan threw another cautious glance over her shoulder. She was still expecting something bad to be there. Ariadne stood quietly and listened and, sure enough, she heard that strange sound which she knew she’d now never forget was the sound of a sled on snow. There was evidently still enough ice around for a sled to ride on. Hastily, she concentrated on warming up the surroundings so that the ice melted faster -

A branch caught the side of her head. Ariadne stared up at it in shock. There was no way the breeze was strong enough to make a tree move like that. Looking around, it suddenly dawned on her that not all the trees were rustling violently - only a select few. Most of them were ones that were close to her. What had been included in all the creatures Yusuf had read about? Naiads, Dryads... and the trees themselves could talk.

She immediately stopped trying to change the temperature, but the icy dread creeping through her veins was nothing to do with the disappearance of the warmth. She cursed herself for her lack of foresight, but really, how could she have expected for Susan’s projections to manifest as TREES?

The trees were still rustling, as though irritated, but no more direct attacks came her way. She glanced at Susan and Eames, who were swiftly disappearing down the path. They didn’t seem to have noticed anything untoward. She couldn’t change any more for the time being, but the sound of the sled was still approaching. It seemed that she would have to take a more direct approach.

She took off sprinting through the trees, listening hard for the sled over the sound of her pounding feet, and ran towards where it seemed to be coming from. The sound of the runners on the ice got louder and louder as the ground got rougher in the thaw, and soon, Ariadne found herself throwing herself out in front of the sled on another path.

There was a cry of alarm from the dwarf, who hauled back on the reins and brought the reindeer to a skidding stop. The cry of alarm turned to a snarl of annoyance when he saw Ariadne, and the White Witch rose imperiously from her seat. Her gaze pinned Ariadne to where she stood, and she found herself wishing she had thought this through further.

“Who are you?” she demanded impetuously. The trees rustled dangerously.

“I’m a Daughter of Eve,” said Ariadne, trying to slow her breathing from her run. “I - I just arrived here in Narnia.”

The White Witch narrowed her eyes. “Another one. How did you get here?”

“I don’t know exactly.” She eyed the trees around them carefully. They were settling down - it appeared that her answers fit into the world and with Susan’s projection of the White Witch acceptably.

The White Witch slowly sat down, but did not take her eyes off Ariadne, seemingly considering. “You don’t have any brothers or sisters, do you?”

“No,” said Ariadne quickly.

“There aren’t more of you coming, are there?”

“No! And I’ll be going soon. I have to get home.”

The trees were rustling again, and Ariadne recognized the familiar feeling of burny dread in the pit of her stomach - she was in trouble. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but she certainly didn’t like the satisfied grin on the face of the dwarf. Running away, however, seemed about as wise in this situation as running away from a bear or a mountain lion - all it would do was inform the faster predator that you were worth being chased. All she could do was wait for this terrifying woman to come to some sort of decision regarding her.

When she finally did, it was abrupt. “I’m not here for you,” she said carelessly, and suddenly she was pointing her wand at Ariadne, who had a split second of frozen horror before her muscles acted for her, and she threw herself out of the way - she felt something huge, something crackling with energy, shoot past through where she had only just been, brushing her arm with its unearthly vibration and making it tingle in strange unpleasant way - into the trees at the side of the path. She hit the ground in a crouch and used it to launch herself into a sprint, tearing her way through the trees and bushes, pulling them closed behind her and ignoring the branches that came whipping her way in protest. It didn’t matter if she got killed by trees, it didn’t matter if the dream collapsed, she was not spending one more second in the company of that woman, whose scream of annoyance followed her as she fled.

A downside of the timeless nature of movement through the forest was that Ariadne had no idea how long she’d been running when she finally stumbled to a halt, gasping, in a small clearing. The trees were shaking in outrage at her presence, branches were waving despite the lack of wind, but Ariadne couldn’t regret her actions. She knew what happened when you died in a dream, but what about when you had magic performed on you? What if Eames never managed to find her?

Whatever might have happened, she tried to reassure herself, as she tried to calm her breathing and also stay very still in an attempt to placate the trees, you could still have been woken up by a kick. Which Eames would go back and administer if he lost you. They wouldn’t have left you there. Still, it was easy enough to tell herself that now that she was away, but it had not been an idea she was eager to test at the time.

She checked the position of the sun through the overhead branches and struck out through the trees again towards where she knew the edge of the forest lay. Eames and Susan would have left the forest by now, she thought, and unease grew when she considered that the White Witch was most likely honing in on them in particular, and there was little to no cover for them out there. But beyond the forest she knew there was no ice for the sled to run on. She picked up the pace. She could still get there first, and if the worst came to the worst, she could try to destroy the dream in such a way that might not clue Susan in to what was happening... this was still workable, definitely workable. All the same, as she saw the edge of the forest approaching and bright sunshine ahead of her, she broke into a run once more.

Beyond the trees was rolling grassland, with a wide blue river that glittered in the sunlight. Ariadne guessed this topography was not the same as Narnia, and she knew the open space was risky in terms of projections; however, if the first phase was successful, Susan’s own projections would hopefully start to fill in the gaps (there was another line of trees off to the west which Ariadne did not remember putting in, and a rock formation next to the river), and projections had not seemed to be a problem in Susan’s own dreams. With a last wary glance at the trees around her still, Ariadne scanned the landscape for Eames and Susan, and spotted them not too far away. She started to hurry towards them.

The run was downhill, and they were strolling gently, so it barely took Ariadne a minute to catch up with them. When she was still a little way, she quickly slowed to a graceful walk, willing her cheeks to be less flushed and surreptitiously trying to fix her hair. Eames noticed her approach before Susan did, and stopped.

“Problem, my lady?” he asked casually.

Ariadne curtsied quickly, taking care to keep her face down. “The day is coming to an end, my Lord,” she said. “You are required back at the castle.”

Eames’s eyes widened, ever so slightly. This was one of the various pre-agreed code sentences they had decided upon - Danger, bring dream to an end ASAP. But with a smile and a nod, he took it on board, and turned back to Susan.

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid I must deliver you home.”

Susan looked at him in surprise. “So soon? But - we’ve barely gone anywhere. I haven’t seen -”

“I know. But see, the sun is already setting.” What might have been a huge change in the real world was actually quite a subtle one here, due to its distance and intangibility - Ariadne mentally slid the ‘Sun’ down the sky towards the horizon. Susan turned to look at it and sighed with disappointment.

“Will I be allowed to come back?” she asked Eames.

“Soon,” he assured. “Very soon. I promise.”

“Will I get to see Lucy? And Edmund, and Peter?”

Ariadne detected a hint of hesitation in Caspian. This was the tricky part they’d had to think how best to answer, and all they had to go on as a shot was a scribbled footnote to Kirke’s notes. “They’re not here,” said Eames carefully. “They’re in Aslan’s country.”

Susan frowned. Ariadne barely suppressed a wince - she was starting to notice things were strange.

“Then how are you here?” she asked.

“Time flows differently between the worlds,” answered Eames smoothly.

“No.” Susan stopped, abruptly, and stepped away from him. “Why are you here? Why am I here? We were only ever summoned when Narnia was in need. There’s nothing wrong here.”

Ariadne eyed the trees a little way away from them nervously, but Eames pressed on gallantly. “You are here because you are always welcome here,” he said, “and I am here to greet you because the others have moved on to Aslan’s country -”

Susan was no longer even listening to him, but looking at Ariadne. Ariadne tried to avoid her gaze without looking like she was deliberately avoiding her gaze, but Susan sighed. “Ariadne,” she said quietly. She looked down at her nightdress. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“Dreaming?” said Eames innocently.

“Oh, Eames, give it up,” sighed Ariadne. Eames sighed as well and swiftly changed back to his normal self. Susan blinked in surprise.

“Oh,” she said quietly, “That was - I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I’m sorry about this,” said Ariadne. “There were complications. Jadis showed up again.”

“Ah.” Susan smiled faintly. “That bitch.”

“She was in the forest. I didn’t know... look, the sled can’t run on ice -”

“I know,” said Susan, smiling again. “I seem to recall writing that in my notes.”

“ - so she couldn’t follow us out on that. So we can just wait out here for the kick, and we’ll be out of here in just a little bit. It can’t be long, right, Eames?”

“About twenty minutes after we hear the music,” said Eames.

Susan barely seemed to be listening, and instead looked up at the forest. “We have at least twenty minutes?” Eames nodded. “And if we die here, we just go back up to the dream level above?” Eames nodded again, more slowly. Susan smiled a smile of faint embarrassment. “I don’t suppose - I could go settle a score while I’m here, could I?”

“Uhh... do you mean-?”

“Jadis hurt my brother,” said Susan simply, “and caused untold hurt to this land. I did not get to take part in the battle to defeat her. This is the closest thing to revenge I can take, and I know it is a dream, but I shall savour it.” With that, she turned and started striding back up the hill towards the tree line. Eames and Ariadne could only hurry after her.

As they walked, Eames muttered, “Notice she’s stopped talking about this place like it was a fantasy game?”

“I guess we completed that part of our job?” said Ariadne weakly, staring at her professor’s determined back.

They approached the edge of the forest, and Ariadne wondered briefly how they were going to find the White Witch in all of those angry trees. Her question was answered, however, by Jadis herself striding from the trees to meet them on the grassy plain, with a wand in one hand and a knife in the other.

“Susan,” she said, seeing the other woman approach. “Coming to join the set yet?”

“No,” said Susan. There was a gleam of triumph in her eyes. “And you’re not taking my siblings. You can never take them, because you’re dead and gone. Even if Narnia is real, you’re not in it. You were destroyed. You don’t have any power anymore.”

The White Witch laughed softly. “That’s what you think this has been about, all this time? Susan, we both know you never stopped believing in Narnia. How could you? No, you did something far worse. You ignored it. You utterly turned your back on it. You weren’t allowed to go back any more, so you evicted it from your life. Easier to handle, was it, dear? Easy to manage the pain of losing a lifetime of people by pretending they never existed?”

“It wasn’t like that! I didn’t -”

“But it was!” The White Witch went on, stepping closer. Ariadne noticed Susan waver, ever so slightly. “And you were right to do it! That was the best way to cope! What was Aslan thinking, throwing you out like that? Did you do something wrong? No - but because you weren’t spending all your time pining over wardrobes, you got left behind. You were right to turn your back on them! You were better than them! You had more power over your own life than they could dream of. You didn’t need that giant hairball poncing around in your head! I mean, what kind of cruel lion god would make you go through puberty twice?”

Ariadne could only watch in mild horror. She’d tried to get into an argument with one of her own projections once. It was never nice to have thoughts which you scarcely admitted to yourself you had thrown back at you as casual opinions. She caught Eames’s eye, but he shook his head slightly. They had to let Susan try to deal with this.

“This is what I’ve been trying to help you see,” the White Witch went on, her voice more gentle now. “You don’t need them, Susan. You have the power to rule wherever you choose - well, you will, one day. When you’ve learned you don’t need them. But your bleeding heart and aching love keep pulling you back, that hope that your family - who are dead - who left you - are happy. You keep falling back to this dream that one day you’ll follow them where they’ve gone, wherever that may be, wherever that train took them.

“You know the difference between you and them?” The White Witch stepped even closer, and Susan didn’t move. Ariadne looked to Eames again, who shook his head again, but with a little less certainty. “They were always looking for a way out. A way to somewhere better. Whereas you worked with what you had. That was good, Susan. That was strong. There was still a war on! There was a country to rebuild! And look at all you’ve done! But now... you’re becoming just like them. You’re waiting for a train - a train that’ll take you far away...”

Ariadne froze. Susan was staring, lost, at the older woman’s face, as she moved nearer.

“Now you know where you’re hoping the train will take you, but you can’t know for sure...”

“Oh god,” breathed Ariadne, “Susan!”

The White Witch’s face was changing. The skin was brightening, becoming less pale, and her dark hair appeared to be drawing back into her scalp, and curling. “But it won’t matter...”

“Shit!” yelled Eames, “That’s not her projection, that’s -”

“Susan, get away from her!” yelled Ariadne.

“... because you’ll be -”

Ariadne’s ears almost shattered from the sound of a gunshot right next to her. The White Witch’s head snapped back, and she crumpled to the ground in the unnatural fast fall of instant death. Susan shook her head, once, as though coming out of a daze, and turned to look past Ariadne. Ariadne also looked behind her and found Eames, lowering a smoking gun.

“You brought a GUN?” said Ariadne incredulously.

Eames shrugged. “I always bring a gun.” He tucked back in the back of his trousers and walked to Susan, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Susan nodded, breathing fast as though she had just run a short distance. “I know I said I wanted the satisfaction,” she panted, “but thanks.”

“No problem.” Eames rounded on Ariadne. “What was Mal doing here??”

“I - I don’t know!”

“Because I sure as hell didn’t bring her here. Something you’re not telling us?”

“I - I guess I must have seen similarities... I’m sorry, how could I have known this was going to happen?”

Eames ran a hand over his head. “This is just great,” he muttered. “Right - let’s get out of here, we’ll just have to -”

He froze, and an instant later, he was stone. It happened so suddenly Ariadne thought something must have happened to her vision. There was no gradual change, no exaggerated grimace, he was just instantly stone. Ariadne blinked, gaped, and could only stare as she heard Susan gasp.

The White Witch stepped out from behind the frozen Eames, holding her wand and her long knife. “Traitors were always mine, you know,” she said.

Ariadne couldn’t answer, only stare at the bullet hole in the exact centre of her forehead. Jadis noticed what she was looking at and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I was only killed by Aslan himself, and even then I was never truly gone. Did you really think a Son of Adam with a handgun could do any better? Now -”

Before Ariadne could move, could think, the White Witch plunged her knife into her gut. Her mind exploded with pain, even as one distant corner, that one little distant voice eternally providing commentary on your life, mused that this didn’t get any easier the second time round. But, as the Witch slid it back out and turned back to Susan, ignoring her as she fell to her knees, Ariadne realized she wasn’t waking up. Mal’s wound had been fatal, an eviction from Cobb’s subconscious - this would be a lingering death. She was supposed to watch. And even if she died, she realized further, it would take a good minute for Yusuf to plug her back in - that would leave Susan alone here for ten minutes, with the White Witch.

She clamped one hand over the wound, holding it together with her fingers and sheer will, and started to fiercely drag herself past the statue of Eames towards the Witch and Susan.

“And since traitors are mine,” the Witch was saying to Susan, “I’m pretty sure you should be looking to come back to me, not Aslan. You did turn your back on him, after all.”

Ariadne saw, with no little satisfaction, that Susan was no longer looking lost. She was looking tall, determined. Regal. Queen Susan the Gentle, the notes had said she was called, but right now, she looked like she was capable of a world of pain. “You’re dead. I won’t go to you.”

“Oh, dear, then you have no chance at all. Do you really think Aslan will take you?” At this, a flicker of doubt moved across Susan’s face, and the Witch moved closer. Doubt, remembered Ariadne distantly, doubt attracts the projections. “Just now, so that you don’t have to be said that your family are dead and hope there’s more for you after death than a slightly nicer funeral? After you abandoned him utterly? After you threw aside a whole lifetime’s worth of memories to chase after boys and parties?”

“I didn’t,” said Susan indignantly, drawing herself up straighter. “You said it yourself. I knew I couldn’t return to Narnia any more. I went and lived my life.”

“But lost sight of the world completely. You can’t fool me. I know you. You and I are the same. I used the Deplorable Word to kill an entire world to avoid defeat. You killed an entire world just to avoid your own pain at being excluded from it.”

“I am not the same as you!” cried Susan. “I’ve lived my life! I’ve lived a damn good life. I’m not daydreaming about Narnia because I’m focussing on the world I’m in. The real world.”

“But you’re frozen.” If it wasn’t for the satisfied smile playing on her face, the Witch’s voice could almost sound sympathetic. “A hard life with no guaranteed happy ending. Always winter but never Christmas...”

“Until Aslan comes back.” Susan was shaking slightly.

“Ah yes... but doesn’t he come when he’s needed? I’d say you needed him right now, wouldn’t you?”

Susan looked down at the ground as though she could no longer meet the Witch’s terrible gaze. Ariadne forced her hand harder against her stomach wound, trying not to think too hard about exactly what she was holding together, and crawled with renewed vigour. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do when she reached the White Witch, but she had to do something, anything to get away from Susan -

Susan suddenly looked back up at the Witch. There was a smile on her face. “Evidently not.”

It was as though it was the signal for an order which Ariadne had forgotten. Lunging forwards, she grabbed the Witch’s skirts and hauled at them with all of her falling weight. It was not enough to pull the Witch over, but enough to grab her attention. The Witch turned to look at her, her startled glance turning into a sneer of disbelief, and she began to lift her wand aloft - but in her moment of distraction, Susan, quick as a flash, snatched the knife from her cold hand and, even as the Witch turned in shock, plunged it into her heart.

The Witch let out a terrible scream which made Ariadne’s teeth freeze in her skull and staggered back, but Susan wasn’t done. She drew out the knife again and, in a backhand swing from the same movement, swung it around and sliced deep into her throat. One more hack and her head toppled off, rolling a little way away before settling in a pile of dark hair. The body stayed upright for a second longer before gracefully falling. A second before it hit the ground, it shattered into ice crystals.

Breathing hard, Ariadne looked up at Susan, who was staring at her hands and the blade. “I just decapitated someone,” she said in astonishment. “I - I can’t believe...”

“I don’t know,” said Ariadne. Her vision was beginning to swim, and this whole situation was beginning to seem strangely funny. “Queen Susan the Beheader has quite a nice ring to it.”

Susan stared at her, but then smiled. The smile turned into a giggle, a strangely girl-like giggle of the kind Susan hadn’t even done as a child. Before she knew it, she was laughing properly, laughing so hard she could barely stand up, while the Witch’s head lay on the grass just a little way away. “Queen Susan the Beheader! Oh no, that wouldn’t have fitted into Aslan’s nice little court at all... God, there’s no way he’s going to let me back to Narnia now...”

Ariadne, at the sound of her laugh, let herself fall forwards. With her last dregs of energy, she rolled herself onto her back, and stared up at the bright Narnian sky. Or rather, what she had imagined the Narnian sky to be.

“Hey,” she asked from the ground. “Did I get Narnia right? Does it look right?”

This seemed to bring Susan back to reality, and she hurried over to Ariadne’s side. “Ariadne, stay still -”

“Oh, pfft, I’ll be fine in a minute. Well, I’ll be dead, but I’ll wake up back in the upper dream level. This dream will collapse very shortly after that,” she added, “So you won’t be able to hang around. Sorry.”

“Really?” said Susan, disappointment creeping into her voice as she looked around. “But - it’s all starting to come back...”

Ariadne raised her head and looked around. From out of the trees were pouring creatures, larger animals than those she had ever seen, centaurs, dryads; across the grass towards them came galloping unicorns; Naiads were poking their heads out of the river nearby and waving cheerfully at Susan, who waved back and smiled sadly.

“But this is all in you,” said Ariadne. “You can get this any time you want.”

Susan smiled. “I know. And do tell Eames, he did rather a good impression of Caspian, although the accent was all wrong.” She looked at the statue, and frowned. “Er - how do we wake him up, when he’s a statue?”

“Well,” said Ariadne, “I’ll be dying in a minute, then the dream will collapse. And the second I’m awake in the level above, Yusuf’ll kick Eames off his chair. That should wake him up.”

“Oh.” Susan looked around, and back at her again. “I suppose... thank you?”

“All part of the job.” Ariadne smiled, and closed her eyes, just as music started to waft gently through the air around them.

*~*~*

Ariadne opened her eyes on the level above, and instinctively felt her abdomen. It was still intact, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

“What happened?” asked Yusuf, alarmed.

“Got stabbed by a witch,” said Ariadne, “and Eames is a statue, so you might want to kick him. And help me put Susan back in bed.”

The two of them quickly carried Susan over to her bed and tucked her back in, for the split second she might be awake in this level when the dream level below was utterly collapsed. Yusuf went over to get ready to kick Eames as soon as the music started.

The familiar notes began to play over them, and Yusuf gave Eames’s chair a hearty kick.

“Nice -”

*~*~*

“ - one.” Ariadne opened her eyes again, and she seemed to just be in the same place. She quickly pulled out her totem, but was stopped from checking it when Arthur came over to help disconnect her.

“Everything go all right?” he asked.

“Witches,” she shrugged, “stabbings, pissed-off trees. Same old same old.”

Arthur looked alarmed. “How bad?”

Ariadne smiled at his expression. It was strangely adorable. “Actually, I think it might have done Susan a lot of good.”

“Oh.” Arthur’s face was puzzled, but cleared when Ariadne’s smile stayed longer than sarcasm might require. “Great!”

Eames grunted from the floor - he’d been kicked over all the way, it seemed (Arthur bore grudges) and was probably still annoyed about being turned into a statue. Arthur stood to go help him up, but before he went, swiftly kissed Ariadne on the forehead. Face reddening - in surprise, she told herself, that was a very surprising thing he’d just done - she quickly turned and toppled her chess piece over.

It fell exactly right. Grinning, she got up to help Yusuf.

*~*~*

Several days later, Professor Miles and Dr Pevensie booked to go to lunch together at that same restaurant. As many complaints as Eames had had about the parking facilities, it did make the transition from daytime to night-time dining rather well.

“Susan! How are you, my dear?”

“Very well, Stephen, but I must say, I had the strangest dream recently.”

“Oh really? Do tell.”

It took until long after the starters had arrived for Susan to fully relate the happenings of the last few days, though of course the starters themselves did rather delay conversation temporarily. Miles let her speak without asking any questions, though curiosity did rather pester him throughout.

“So all in all, I did find it a rather cathartic experience,” finished Susan as the waiters cleared away their plates. “I may have to borrow one of your machines to take on the White Witch in one-on-one fights more often; I could develop quite the taste for decapitation.”

“Ah, but you see, eventually your projection of her would just show up without a head,” smiled Miles, topping up her wine.

“Yes, but then I could move onto dismemberment.”

“Now, Susan...”

“I’m sure I’d be very restrained in my use of it, Stephen. Speaking of, Ariadne’s work is improving greatly. She seems a lot more focussed, as well. Surprising, really, given how often I see her disappearing off with that Arthur...”

“So it worked, then?” Miles smiled.

“Yes, I think she learned a valuable lesson about the dangers of pining away over fantasy worlds.” Susan sighed. “It is difficult enough when they are fictional, but when they are real... remembering why one shouldn’t be lost in them is often the hardest thing.”

“Well, I’m sure Arthur and I could give you both many reasons why.” The main courses arrived, and Miles and Susan sat back to allow them to place the plates in front of them. “We’re rather selfish like that. But I must thank you for your help, dear. I’ve already reimbursed the funds paid from your bank account.”

“It’s quite all right, Miles. I do know what it’s like to lose someone like that... I was quite happy to stop it happening again.”

They clinked their glasses together. “To Mal,” said Miles.

“To Lucy, Peter and Edmund,” said Susan.

For a minute or two, both paid their meals the full attention they deserved. When she paused to drink, Susan said, “And like I said - it was rather cathartic.” She paused. “I have never been able to speak to you about Narnia fully, because I know some of the issues of my troubles could be upsetting to you.”

“But you -”

“I would not have troubled you with them before and I will not trouble you with them now. But the experience of facing them in such a direct manner... it helped.” Susan smiled. “So thank you.”

“You are very welcome.” Miles laid his hand on hers, briefly, before returning to his meal. “And this does all suggest positive things for the notion of dream therapy. After all, you can’t know when inception is being performed on you. But going into your head to argue out your own issues with yourself - that could work.”

“One thing to consider when this technology goes worldwide, I suppose,” mused Susan. “Will that really be soon?”

“All too soon.” Miles held up his glass again. “To the brand new world.”

Susan laughed, but clinked her glass again. “Not for me, thank you,” she said. “I have two old ones already.”

*~*~*

-END-