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mischievouslittlecreature · 2 years ago

Text

Part 5: A Sleepless Dream

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Robert Fischer x OC

Summary: Alice and Robert pick their friendship back up like no time has passed at all.

Word Count: 3,168

Notes: No warnings this time!

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Chapter 3: Home

She was having a hard time not just staring at him. It was difficult to believe that he was actually real, sitting across from her in his expensive, tailored suit, the slight breeze ruffling his dark hair. Alice had to resist the temptation to reach out and poke him, just to make sure he was not just a figment of her imagination.

“So,” she rested her chin on her fist after ordering and handing the menu to the waitress. “How’s your dad doing? Really?”

“Oh…” Robert twirled the little umbrella in his drink absentmindedly. “He’ll be fine. The doctors keep trying to tell him that he needs to start taking it easy.”

“Is he going to?”

Robert let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Of course not,” he continued to fiddle with the umbrella. “Uncle Peter wants to start transferring more of his duties over to me,” he let the umbrella go, to float alongside the ice in his drink.

“Fun for you.”

He shrugged, fingertips brushing lightly along her arm, raising goosebumps with his touch, big blue eyes wide as they searched hers.

“Where have you been, Alice?”

The question caught her off guard, though it probably shouldn’t have. Glancing down, fumbling with her napkin, she frowned.

“All over the place, actually. Mostly Europe,” she let the napkin fall back onto the table. “I was in Switzerland before I came here.”

“Seems a bit cold for your liking.”

“It was,” she said with a small smile that quickly fell as she cleared her throat. “Listen, Robert, I’m sorry–”

He was already shaking his head. “No. No. Don’t. You don’t have to explain. Or apologize. I’m sorry,” his thumb brushed along her cheek, her eyelashes fluttering at the touch. How was it possible that after all these years, he still had such a powerful effect on her?

“I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean–”

“But you weren’t wrong,” he dropped his hand, looking down at the table. Running his hand through his hair, mussing it, he sighed. “I was being an asshole.”

“No…” she paused, as the waitress came over to set her plate of food down in front of her. Once she was gone, she continued. “And I shouldn’t have just run away like that afterwards.”

Robert shrugged. “I’m not saying that I’m happy that you left, but…”

“What?”

Looking up, he smiled sheepishly. “I was a mess. And…it was the kick in the ass I needed to pull myself together.”

The breeze tugged at her hair, and he reached out to push a lock of it back behind her ear.

“I missed you,” the words were blurted from her mouth before she had much time to even consider them, cheeks heating at the confession. But Robert just smiled sadly.

“I missed you too,” head tilting as he watched her begin to cut into her fish, arms resting in front of him on the table, one side of his lips cocked upwards in a crooked smile. “So, what were you doing in Europe?”

“Um,” she set down her knife and fork, frowning around a mouthful of fish, trying to figure out how to explain it all. “Have you ever heard of dream sharing technology?”

“That program developed by the military as a training program? Yeah, why?” his eyes narrowed the slightest fraction.

“I’ve been working with a group of…I guess researchers, based out of France. They’ve been experimenting with dream sharing. The head researcher’s Stephen Miles, he was an architect who worked with the team who originally developed the technology. His daughter and son in law, Mal and Dom, run most of the actual experiments. I was their writer.”

“Writer?”

“Yeah. I wrote the basic narratives of the dreams while the architects created the physical space.”

“How’d you get involved in that?”

“Do you remember those fliers for that writing competition that were posted in the college newsletter?”

“Um…no?”

She snorted. He never did read those newsletters when they came in the mail. “Well, I saw it, and it said that anyone could submit something, so I did,” shrugging, she took another bite of her food. “I didn’t even think much about it until they called me asking if we could set up a meeting,” tapping her finger anxiously against the table, she frowned. “I told them I’d have to think about it, since the job involved moving to France. I’d meant to talk to you about it but then…” she shrugged, his fingers twisted with hers.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” the immediacy of her response surprised her. “Very, very much.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad that you went,” but there was still a quiet sadness in his eyes. Brows pinching, he inclined his head slightly. “I’ve also heard that the technology’s been commandeered by thieves to steal things out of people’s minds.”

“Ah,” she suddenly became very interested in her fish.

“No.”

“Okay, listen–”

“You didn’t!” but he was laughing, leaning back in his chair with his head tilted back just enough that she could see the pale flash of his throat, the sunshine accentuating the sharpness of his cheekbones.

“Arthur and Eames are a terrible influence,” she tried to defend. Robert was still snickering, reaching forward to twist a lock of hair between his fingers.

“Who’re they?”

“Other members of the research team. But they do extraction in between research projects. They convinced me to come along. A few times.”

“So why aren’t you there now?” he let the lock of hair slip away. “It seems like you really loved it.”

Gulping, she looked down at the nearly cleaned plate, suddenly not hungry anymore. For a moment, she’d forgotten all about the reason she’d come out to Sydney in the first place. The guilt gnawed up inside of her, twisting her insides.

“I just needed a break, I guess.”

She could tell that he knew that wasn’t the whole truth, his eyebrow raising slightly. Of course he knew. Even after so much time apart, he could still read her like a book. But he didn’t push it further, foot rubbing soothingly against her calf under the table.

“Are you finished?” the waitress came and took her plate, handing over the bill that Robert snatched before she could even process what he was doing.

“Hey–!”

“Don’t even think about it,” he gave her a look. Pouting, she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair.

“Stupid rich boy,” biting on her lip to keep from smiling didn’t really work. He shot her a smirk, handing the bill and his credit card back to the waitress with an unnecessary flourish. Alice rolled her eyes fondly.

“So how does it work?”

“What?”

“Dream-sharing. How does it all work?”

“Oh. It’s well…I have this machine, a Portable Automated Somnacin IntraVenous Device–we call it PASIV–you hook everyone up to the IVs in it, set the dosage, the time you want to spend dreaming, push the button. Obviously there’s the steps of building the dream space, and the narrative and then teaching it to the dreamer, but…that’s the gist of it,” rubbing at the back of her neck, she laughed awkwardly.

The waitress returned with Robert’s credit card and they began to make their way out of the restaurant. “Weren’t you in a meeting?” she asked, vaguely recalling a group of men in suits sitting at a large table in the middle of the dining room. Robert cringed.

“Technically, yeah. But it’s fine. They didn’t really need me there anyway,” he turned to look at her, eyes big and a little anxious. “Where are you staying?”

“I’ve got a condo down by the beach.”

“Can I…walk you home?”

“Sure,” the last thing she wanted in that moment was to say good-bye to him. Sun smiling down brightly on them, barely a cloud in the sky, they began to walk languidly towards the beaches.

“How’re your parents?” he asked, shedding his suit jacket and folding it over one arm. Alice tried her hardest not to eye the way his button-down shirt clung to his trim frame, or the suspenders hooked over each shoulder.

“Oh, just as they were years ago. They’re both still in Los Angeles. I call them, sometimes.”

“Your dad still married to Tracey?”

She made what was probably an unnecessary gagging sound. “Yep,” few things turned her stomach like the reminder that her father had married a woman who was not only the same age as her, but who used to be her friend. Right up until Alice had walked in on them in bed together. “Mom’s still gallivanting around the city, David moved in with his partner about a year ago…Celia and Adrian are about to have their second kid,” hesitating, she suddenly realized that she wasn’t sure on the dates. “I think.”

“Is Celia still a bitch?”

“Robert,” she aimed an elbow at him even as he laughed, biting her own lip to try to hide her smile. Robert had never gotten along with her older sister. There had been a family gathering, and Alice had brought Robert with her for solidarity, and Celia, in her usual fashion, had said something awful to her. And while Alice knew better than to engage by that point, instead just listening to the cruel words silently with her eyes lowered to the floor, Robert had risen to her defense. For as soft spoken and sweet as he could be, there was a side to Robert that had the capacity to be completely and utterly vicious. And Celia had never been one to back down from a fight, or to play the victim, as she had by sobbing quietly into their father’s shoulder while he glowered at Alice and Robert for making his “sweet baby girl” cry.

The pair had hated each other ever since. Alice tried not to take too much glee in it. After all, it was rare for anyone to prefer her over Celia.

“Yeah, she is,” she admitted, getting a hooting laugh from Robert as he elbowed her back playfully. “And still the family super star. Big fancy doctor’s office, rich lawyer husband, gorgeous kids…she’s everything Mom and Dad could’ve dreamed of,” she kicked at a rock sitting in the middle of the sidewalk bitterly. It was true. Celia was the overachiever. The one who did phenomenal in school. Who was loved by nearly everyone she met. While Alice in comparison was the disappointment. The failure. The black sheep who’d never amounted to much of anything. The one her parents probably wished would just disappear.

Robert looped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close until she was tucked snugly against his side, warmth seeping from him to her.

“They’re all idiots for the way they’ve treated you,” he said, nose nudging at the top of her head. Humming, she just shrugged, letting her head fall to his shoulder for a moment.

“I don’t really talk to them more than I have to. It’s been ages since I visited,” lifting her head, she squinted against the sun, her condo building coming into view. Robert’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he dropped his arm from around her to pull it out, taking only a quick glance at the screen before rolling his eyes and shoving it back into his pocket.

“How’s Peter?”

“You know how he is,” Robert said tiredly. “Grumpy. Trying his best, I suppose. He keeps trying to set me up with his secretary.”

“Heh,” she stuffed her hands into her pockets, smiling out towards the ocean. “I’m hoping that he’s hired someone new since I left, and isn’t trying to shove that eighty year old woman on you.”

“Oh, Agnes? Yeah, she retired,” he tilted his head up towards the sky. “Cheryl retired earlier this year too.”

“Oh. I always liked her.”

“Me too. Uncle Peter’s been giving me shit about hiring someone new.”

“You haven’t yet?”

“Been putting it off,” he followed her up the steps to her condo door, the keys jangling in her hand as she pulled them from her purse. “None of the applicants seem to be very interested in actually assisting me.”

Sliding the key into place she twisted it, turning to look back at him.

“You mean that they all just want to fuck you?”

His cheeks turned pink. “Something like that.”

Twisting the doorknob, she stepped into the condo. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone. You want to come in?”

Nodding, Robert followed her into the little condo, glancing around while she started turning on the lights, tossing her purse onto a chair.

“Are you…” she swallowed the dread building in her throat at what his answer to her question might be. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

“No.”

She really did her best to hide the relieved exhale that left her lips.

“Are you?” he didn’t look at her when he asked.

“Ha. No,” when she glanced at him, it was to see that an odd look had crossed his face.

“Really? No exotic European artists, or anything like that?” there was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, there was an artist, alright,” she wasn’t quite able to hide the bitterness in her voice. “But he was an asshole,” she opened the fridge and peered in. “You want something to drink? I don’t have any booze, but I’ve got lemonade or coffee.”

“Lemonade’s good, thanks,” he watched her as she pulled down a big pitcher of the stuff from the top shelf of the fridge. “What made him such an asshole?”

Sighing as she set the pitcher down on the counter, she shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. He was pretentious. Had his head shoved pretty far up his own ass.”

Robert snickered, folding his suit jacket carefully over the back of one of the chairs. “So you dumped him?”

“Not until I caught him cheating on me with one of his models, but yeah.”

Eyes widening, Robert's hand reached out to stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Shrugging, she glanced down. “It’s okay. I’d been looking for a reason to break up with him anyway.”

“If you wanted, I could hire someone to go kill him,” there was something in Robert’s tone that told her he was only partially joking.

“I trashed his apartment pretty badly before I left,” she laughed. “Besides, it was a while ago.”

Robert nodded, though the slight twinge of anger on her behalf didn’t quite die out from behind his eyes.

“Ice or no ice?” she asked, turning to rummage around for some glasses.

“No ice, thanks. This is nice,” his eyes darted around the small condo as he wandered from the kitchen into the living room.

“It’s really not, but thanks,” Alice snorted as she stretched up on her toes to grab two glasses from the cupboard.

“Hey, did you ever get that cat you wanted?” he called, eying a little snow globe she had set on the mantle, featuring a little calico cat sleeping on top of a stack of books. Head tilting, she walked over, passing him his glass of lemonade while she took a sip of her own. She’d gotten the snow globe from a home goods store during her first month in Paris.

“No,” she sighed sadly. As a child she’d begged and begged her parents for a cat, but they’d refused on the grounds that Celia was allergic, even after Celia had moved out to go to college. “I’ve been so busy with work, I just never got around to it,” maybe someday. “You have any pets?”

“Nah,” he said, “I travel way too much. It wouldn’t feel right,” but his shoulders slumped at the admission, Alice’s hand coming to rub between his shoulder blades in sympathy. As a kid Robert had all but pleaded with his father for a puppy or a kitten, but Maurice had just harrumphed grumpily and told him that Fischers didn’t concern themselves with such trivial things.

Stupid old man. As if they couldn’t afford to have an entire house full of animals if they wanted to.

Robert was still examining the trinkets she’d set on the mantle. Her cheeks heated when she realized he was looking at the old photos she’d kept of them. The springs in the couch squeaked when she sat down on it, glass of lemonade set on a coaster on one of the side tables.

“My hair was so long back then,” he laughed wistfully, fingertip tracing over one of the pictures. His hair was certainly shorter than it had been in college, but it still looked soft and fluffy. Turning, his gaze fixated on the silver case sitting on her coffee table in front of her, eyes growing wide as saucers, bright and excited. For a moment, he reminded her of what he used to be like when they were children, running excitedly on the playground together. “Is that your PASIV?”

“Yeah,” she fiddled with the clasps holding the case closed, opening them with a harsh snap. Robert moved to sit next to her on the couch, peering over her shoulder.

“Cool,” his voice was barely over a whisper.

“This is the Somnacin,” she said, gesturing to the little vials of liquid. “And here’s where the IV spools go…” beginning to grow excited, she pointed to each little aspect of the machine, Robert listening attentively, only interrupting every once in a while to ask questions. “The IVs can reach up to twelve feet, which is nice in the field if you have a bunch of people scattered throughout the room–what?” she stopped her rambling upon noticing that Robert was just staring at her, a funny look in his eyes.

“Come stay with me.”

“What?”

“Don’t stay in this shitty little condo. I have plenty of room at my beach house. Please.”

“I don’t want to be in your way…”

“You won’t be. Besides, the place has dozens of rooms. I want you there,” his hand swallowed hers, thumb massaging circles over her knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

It would probably be good for her, to not be alone all the time. Not being locked away with her own thoughts, for the fear and guilt to rip her mind apart into Swiss cheese. And after so many years spent separated, the last thing she wanted to do was be away from Robert.

As if she could ever say no to those big, pleading blue eyes.

“Okay.”

He grinned so wide the dimples in his cheeks appeared, hand squeezing hers before he was pulling her into a tight hug. And then all she could smell was his expensive cologne surrounding her, the heat from his body somewhat thawing the numbness that had taken root in her bones. She could feel his heartbeat through his shirt, loud and strong. Arms locking around him, she squeezed tightly, needing to know that he was real. At some point, her eyes slipped closed, wondering if this was what it actually felt like to finally come home.

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