Title: Towards Zero by mirabella
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Categories: angst, drama, first-time, pre-canon, post-canon
Length: Long (15,382 words)
Warnings: canon character death

Author on LJ: mirabella
Author Website: mirabellafic ; The House of Hobbits

Summary:
Five levels down, and five to dig yourself back out. Arthur met Eames' projection long before he met Eames.

Review:
Arthur comes across a projection of Eames' in a colleague's dream and soon can't get the man out of his head, though he has no idea if he's a real person or just something quite literally dreamed-up. He can't stop himself from dreaming of the man again and again, worrying Dom and Mal. This all changes when he meets the real Eames, who is even more fascinating and many times more aggravating. Throughout all this, Arthur is doing jobs, spending time with the Cobb's, dealing with the aftermath of the events of the film, and locked in a constant orbit with Eames.

One of the things I really liked about Inception was it's unique concepts about dreaming and dream tech, including projections, totems, etc. Mirabella creates a story that dovetails nicely into canon-verse, and utilizes it's hallmarks to tell an interesting tale. There's an underlying exploration of personality and perception; Nash's projection of Eames, Arthur's projection of Eames, and Eames himself all share characteristics and yet vary. There are also some vivid images and concepts in this story that have stuck with me for ages (such as the circumstances of when Arthur and Eames meet the first time, and Arthur isn't at his best), and little hints of characterization that have become my head-canon. I also have a competence kink, and both Arthur and Eames really show their skills. Finally , has a smokin' hot sex scene.

My one complaint is that the story ends a bit abruptly; I would have liked to see an epilogue with a bit more closure. But that's a small complaint, which basically boils down to 'I want more!'

When he looks back at the crowd, a slender blonde is leaning against the bar next to him. As he watches, she shapeshifts into the torch singer as if trying the body on for size, or as if Nash can't quite decide who he wants her to be. She's just a little different-looking in this version, more refined, suddenly turned into someone difficult to look away from. Arthur frowns and examines the other projections more closely; Nash's mind isn't the most hospitable of places, and it wouldn't be the first time things had destabilized with startling abruptness.

None of the other projections has noticed, though; and when Arthur looks back, there's a man in a horribly ill-fitting suit lounging against the bar where the blonde-then-torch-singer used to be, tapping the rim of a martini glass against a mouth that makes Arthur forget for a glorious moment that fucking someone else's projection is both technically difficult and logistically suicidal.

Des fois je reve que je suis dans tes bras, the torch singer croons.

The projection catches him staring and winks. Arthur wants very much to know who he is in real life, if he's anyone or someone Nash's subconscious cobbled together out of half-remembered late-night movies. But he's working, and Nash's subconscious is, as mentioned, not the most stable of places, so Arthur gives the projection a brief, impersonal smile and turns back to the stage.

Ecoute bien, mon coeur t'appelle, she sings. Arthur wishes she'd sing something useful, or that the music heralding the kick would drown her out.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, darling," the projection breathes in his ear, leaving Arthur suddenly, powerfully torn between annoyance and a consuming desire to know what that mouth would feel like if it moved an inch closer. "Buy us a drink, hm?"

Arthur wants to turn. He wants to turn, and oh, if he turns it's going to be disastrous. He wonders what the projection would smell like if he were real, smoke or gin or cologne. He's worked with people who could make their projections that lifelike. Now that he thinks about it, none of them were architects. "I'm on the clock right now," he says, hoping the projection will go away. It's not like them to interact like this for more than a few words at a time.

Towards Zero (DW) (author's website)