Ficmas Fic - Settling The House
Title: Settling The House
Rating/Warning: G
Wordcount: 1,200
Fandom: Inception
By: kellifer_fic
Category: Gen
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Summary: Prompt - Robert Fischer meets up with the Inception team some time in the future. Bonus points for Cobb feeling guilty/protecting Fischer.
“He wants to learn,” Arthur says and Cobb gives him the you’re shitting me look as he watches Robert Fischer pace the small area out the back of the empty bookshop they’re currently using.
He’s always amazed at the sheer amount of property Arthur owns that can be accessed with little to no notice.
“He’s militarized already,” Cobb argues and boy does he remember how militarized. His chest twinges at the very memory of Saito lying on the passenger seat of a cab, bleeding out. Watching the way Fischer’s projections had moved in on them like the best trained marines.
How even Arthur had looked ruffled and Cobb had not known until then that that was possible.
“Yeah well, he doesn’t feel like it’s enough,” Arthur says with a slight shrug, a barely perceptible lift of one shoulder. Fischer notices them in the doorway, raises almost too-blue eyes in their direction and fusses with his tie.
He looks like someone waiting for a job interview, not the owner of an empire.
“Just be glad he doesn’t know it was us specifically,” Arthur says out of the corner of his mouth at the same time that he raises his chin in Fischer’s direction and offers a disarming grin.
“He knows something happened though, right?” Cobb says, low as well as Fischer stoops sideways and gathers up his jacket and briefcase before heading across the small space in their direction.
“He thinks it was an extraction,” Arthur says and then holds an arm out to Fischer, ushering him through the door while at the same time making sure he is bodily between Fischer and Cobb as he passes.
It’s subtle but Cobb’s known Arthur long enough to notice.
000
“I always say the best place to hide is in plain sight,” Eames explains, smoothing a hand down the front of his jacket. As he does so, he seems to blur and then a slim brunette with green eyes is standing in his place. Eames tilts a painted mouth up in a smirk and twirls for Fischer and Cobb’s approval. “They have to find you to get anything out of you.”
“That’s amazing,” Fischer enthuses. Cobb’s a little disheartened to find that Fischer is actually a nice guy when he’s not grieving or being dragged around the landscape of his own subconscious on a suicide mission. He’s humble and quietly charming in a way Cobb wasn’t expecting, probably a result of feeling inadequate in the eyes of his father his whole life.
He’s proving himself though. He’d broken up his father’s empire as hoped, but he’s branched out and is making a success for himself in about a dozen other industries. He isn’t going to end up with the monopoly that threatened Saito’s own corner of the world but he’s expanding fast enough to make other influential people nervous.
Hence the need for further training.
“He’s not a natural, but he’s definitely getting the hang of it,” Eames says, appearing at Cobb’s elbow. Fischer is at the mirror and he’s managed to make his hair blonde and eyes a less piercing shade of blue. “Is that starting to look familiar to you?” he asks then with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look between Fischer and Cobb.
Cobb frowns and then looks back at Eames and raises his own brow. “Isn’t that Amelia?” he asks, waving a hand to encompass the brunette Eames is still wearing. Amelia had been a gifted architect they’d only worked with once. Arthur had mentioned that she’d dodged his calls after the one job even though she’d had a rather obvious crush on him.
Cobb suspected Eames’ hand in her sudden and surprising abandonment of their industry.
Eames was never good at sharing.
Eames blurs and shifts back, shooting up and broadening out in a way that makes Cobb’s eyes hurt to look at. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbles.
000
“Your colleague doesn’t think I know, but I do,” Fischer says one day, a few weeks into their training. He’s leaning over, doing up his shoes after a session where Arthur had been showing him how to take control of a dream, enough to turn certain elements to his advantage even if he wasn’t the dreamer.
His sleeves are rolled up, his jacket slung on the back of the reclining chair he’d been using and Cobb’s an idiot because he forgot to be careful, to remember that this man could have them killed.
Cobb’s eyes dart to Arthur, still under and vulnerable just to Fischer’s left and Fischer notices where his attention has diverted and chuckles. He puts a hand out and taps Arthur on the shin. “Don’t get me wrong, I thought about having you all... decommissioned,” he says, making murder sound like a business decision. “But that was before I even contacted Arthur. If I’d wanted to it would have been done already and Saito could not have protected you this time.”
Cobb’s hand itches for his cell phone, in his pocket. He desperately wants to hear his children’s voices because men like Fischer don’t come at you from the front.
“Your children are fine too,” Fischer says, as if reading Cobb’s mind. He stands and moves away from Arthur pointedly. Cobb fights the urge to move towards him because it would be a sign of weakness, showing such concern. There’s a glass of water on the table next to Arthur because he always complains of dry-mouth when he comes out of a somnacin-induced dream. Cobb wonders if he can reach Arthur, knock the glass of water in his face and kick him out of the dream before Fischer can bring out whatever weapon Cobb’s sure he has on him.
“I’m telling you out of courtesy but also to have you stop worrying about it. I’m not really sure what you did and honestly, I don’t really want to know because it’s already done. You’ve been tense and I was wondering what you’d look like if you relaxed a little.”
“What is it you want exactly?” Cobb asks slowly.
“To keep doing what we’re doing,” Fischer says. He looks around the bookshop, eyes lingering on empty shelves. “To retain your services on a permanent basis.”
“You’re kidding,” Cobb deadpans. He does move towards Arthur now, glances at the timer on the PASIV and sees Arthur still has about sixty seconds before he’s up. “This is just the mindfuck before you torture me for the whereabouts of the rest of the team.”
Fischer outright laughs this time. “I don’t need to torture you,” he says. “Ariadne’s back in Paris, Eames is at the cornerstore getting coffee and Arthur’s right here,” Fischer says. “This life has made you paranoid and endangered your children. You’re not a wanted felon anymore, come work for me and be legitimate.”
“Once we train you, you won’t need me,” Cobb says and Fischer shakes his head.
“Are you kidding me? The brain is like a computer, every time you install anti-virus someone comes up with a way around it.”
Cobb takes a turn to laugh now. It is true that if Fischer had wanted them dead, there wasn’t a whole lot they could do about it. Fischer was not Cobol, he now had fingers everywhere and they’d been partially responsible for that.
Fischer offers Cobb a small smile. “Stop running Dom,” he says.
Rating/Warning: G
Wordcount: 1,200
Fandom: Inception
By: kellifer_fic
Category: Gen
Disclaimer: Written for entertainment purposes only. No money, no sue.
Summary: Prompt - Robert Fischer meets up with the Inception team some time in the future. Bonus points for Cobb feeling guilty/protecting Fischer.
“He wants to learn,” Arthur says and Cobb gives him the you’re shitting me look as he watches Robert Fischer pace the small area out the back of the empty bookshop they’re currently using.
He’s always amazed at the sheer amount of property Arthur owns that can be accessed with little to no notice.
“He’s militarized already,” Cobb argues and boy does he remember how militarized. His chest twinges at the very memory of Saito lying on the passenger seat of a cab, bleeding out. Watching the way Fischer’s projections had moved in on them like the best trained marines.
How even Arthur had looked ruffled and Cobb had not known until then that that was possible.
“Yeah well, he doesn’t feel like it’s enough,” Arthur says with a slight shrug, a barely perceptible lift of one shoulder. Fischer notices them in the doorway, raises almost too-blue eyes in their direction and fusses with his tie.
He looks like someone waiting for a job interview, not the owner of an empire.
“Just be glad he doesn’t know it was us specifically,” Arthur says out of the corner of his mouth at the same time that he raises his chin in Fischer’s direction and offers a disarming grin.
“He knows something happened though, right?” Cobb says, low as well as Fischer stoops sideways and gathers up his jacket and briefcase before heading across the small space in their direction.
“He thinks it was an extraction,” Arthur says and then holds an arm out to Fischer, ushering him through the door while at the same time making sure he is bodily between Fischer and Cobb as he passes.
It’s subtle but Cobb’s known Arthur long enough to notice.
000
“I always say the best place to hide is in plain sight,” Eames explains, smoothing a hand down the front of his jacket. As he does so, he seems to blur and then a slim brunette with green eyes is standing in his place. Eames tilts a painted mouth up in a smirk and twirls for Fischer and Cobb’s approval. “They have to find you to get anything out of you.”
“That’s amazing,” Fischer enthuses. Cobb’s a little disheartened to find that Fischer is actually a nice guy when he’s not grieving or being dragged around the landscape of his own subconscious on a suicide mission. He’s humble and quietly charming in a way Cobb wasn’t expecting, probably a result of feeling inadequate in the eyes of his father his whole life.
He’s proving himself though. He’d broken up his father’s empire as hoped, but he’s branched out and is making a success for himself in about a dozen other industries. He isn’t going to end up with the monopoly that threatened Saito’s own corner of the world but he’s expanding fast enough to make other influential people nervous.
Hence the need for further training.
“He’s not a natural, but he’s definitely getting the hang of it,” Eames says, appearing at Cobb’s elbow. Fischer is at the mirror and he’s managed to make his hair blonde and eyes a less piercing shade of blue. “Is that starting to look familiar to you?” he asks then with a raised eyebrow and a pointed look between Fischer and Cobb.
Cobb frowns and then looks back at Eames and raises his own brow. “Isn’t that Amelia?” he asks, waving a hand to encompass the brunette Eames is still wearing. Amelia had been a gifted architect they’d only worked with once. Arthur had mentioned that she’d dodged his calls after the one job even though she’d had a rather obvious crush on him.
Cobb suspected Eames’ hand in her sudden and surprising abandonment of their industry.
Eames was never good at sharing.
Eames blurs and shifts back, shooting up and broadening out in a way that makes Cobb’s eyes hurt to look at. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grumbles.
000
“Your colleague doesn’t think I know, but I do,” Fischer says one day, a few weeks into their training. He’s leaning over, doing up his shoes after a session where Arthur had been showing him how to take control of a dream, enough to turn certain elements to his advantage even if he wasn’t the dreamer.
His sleeves are rolled up, his jacket slung on the back of the reclining chair he’d been using and Cobb’s an idiot because he forgot to be careful, to remember that this man could have them killed.
Cobb’s eyes dart to Arthur, still under and vulnerable just to Fischer’s left and Fischer notices where his attention has diverted and chuckles. He puts a hand out and taps Arthur on the shin. “Don’t get me wrong, I thought about having you all... decommissioned,” he says, making murder sound like a business decision. “But that was before I even contacted Arthur. If I’d wanted to it would have been done already and Saito could not have protected you this time.”
Cobb’s hand itches for his cell phone, in his pocket. He desperately wants to hear his children’s voices because men like Fischer don’t come at you from the front.
“Your children are fine too,” Fischer says, as if reading Cobb’s mind. He stands and moves away from Arthur pointedly. Cobb fights the urge to move towards him because it would be a sign of weakness, showing such concern. There’s a glass of water on the table next to Arthur because he always complains of dry-mouth when he comes out of a somnacin-induced dream. Cobb wonders if he can reach Arthur, knock the glass of water in his face and kick him out of the dream before Fischer can bring out whatever weapon Cobb’s sure he has on him.
“I’m telling you out of courtesy but also to have you stop worrying about it. I’m not really sure what you did and honestly, I don’t really want to know because it’s already done. You’ve been tense and I was wondering what you’d look like if you relaxed a little.”
“What is it you want exactly?” Cobb asks slowly.
“To keep doing what we’re doing,” Fischer says. He looks around the bookshop, eyes lingering on empty shelves. “To retain your services on a permanent basis.”
“You’re kidding,” Cobb deadpans. He does move towards Arthur now, glances at the timer on the PASIV and sees Arthur still has about sixty seconds before he’s up. “This is just the mindfuck before you torture me for the whereabouts of the rest of the team.”
Fischer outright laughs this time. “I don’t need to torture you,” he says. “Ariadne’s back in Paris, Eames is at the cornerstore getting coffee and Arthur’s right here,” Fischer says. “This life has made you paranoid and endangered your children. You’re not a wanted felon anymore, come work for me and be legitimate.”
“Once we train you, you won’t need me,” Cobb says and Fischer shakes his head.
“Are you kidding me? The brain is like a computer, every time you install anti-virus someone comes up with a way around it.”
Cobb takes a turn to laugh now. It is true that if Fischer had wanted them dead, there wasn’t a whole lot they could do about it. Fischer was not Cobol, he now had fingers everywhere and they’d been partially responsible for that.
Fischer offers Cobb a small smile. “Stop running Dom,” he says.