A/N: Alright, so much for waiting for those reviews :P I decided that I should probably get this chapter posted and not leave any readers without a resolution (and I really wanted to post this chapter)This is the final chapter, I would like to thank liliesandroses54 for following and reviewing this story. I would also like to thank ab89us for testing out this wild, winding staircase of a story before I posted it :)

Chapter Three: The Prestige

He motioned swiftly with the bob of his head to another street that stretched away into the distance as he said:

"It's time for you to wake up, Olivia."

She left her coffee and followed him, trudging through the thick crowds as if they were an opaque cloud of smog that was nearly impossible to pass. The sun cast a sheen on the roadway, heat rippling in the air like wind caught in a damp sheet on a clothesline; pushing and pushing but it could go no further.

He led her into a warehouse off of the main street and shut the door behind him as he yanked a dangling string and with a sharp click a light burst into life over their heads. She was thankful that the warehouse was clean, almost bare save for a workbench, two cupboards and a small table in the middle of the room.

The only thing on the table was a deck of cards.

He walked over to the table and lightly plucked a card off the top of the deck, flimsy and thin like a feather. He picked up another one and placed them against each other, meeting so that they formed a triangle that jutted above the table. He took another two cards and repeated the process again. When there were two red-backed triangles sitting on the table he took one card from the deck and lightly placed it on top of the two triangular towers; she saw his fingers tremble slightly as he tried to find the perfect balance.

It was with more than a little hesitation that he cautiously set the card on top of the others. He picked up two more from the deck and formed another triangle.

It was when he was reaching for the eighth card that she interrupted him: "Is there some point to this?" she asked as he looked at her incredulously, "Or are you just trying to impress me with your card skills?"

He smiled for a moment before returning to his progressing house of cards.

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'patience is a virtue'?" he asked.

"No," she answered.

"Well you have now," he replied.

She didn't say anything further, just watched as the house took shape, each row of cards shrinking towards the apex of the structure. Her eyes zig-zagged along the sides of the triangles, following the route of gravity as it burrowed through the structure. It was only because the force was spread over the entire support system at the bottom that it did not collapse.

Share the load, as she recalled from a distant quote.

She'd never let herself share the load with anyone beyond herself.

When he'd finished there were ten levels to the house, the sides a bright crimson and the front peppered with windows like the face of a diamond.

It could very have been a window to a thousand other worlds, if she could only see them.

He moved over to the window and flicked the locks open, but before he opened it she scoffed, "You're going to prove something to me by having wind knock down a house of cards?"

He looked over his shoulder slowly, his face stoic and unaffected by her comment.

"Not exactly."

And with that, he threw the window open.

A thick gust of wind rushed in and tossed Olivia's hair into her face, blinding her in a golden hurricane. She brushed her hair out of her face and looked back over to the table.

The house of cards was still there, untouched by the violent torrent of wind that just rushed in.

It shouldn't have proved anything to her, but she knew that card houses didn't stand against wind. They fell, it was a universal constant.

Her carpet of logic had just been yanked out from under her feet.

"How are they cards still standing?" she asked.

"Because they aren't real," he answered as he stepped around the table so that he was face to face with Olivia, "None of this is real, that wind that you just felt on your face wasn't real. You felt it because you wanted it to be real."

She thought back to her time Over There and to what she went through to survive, her only wish then that it was all some grotesque nightmare.

"What about when I was on the other side?" she asked.

"A by-product of the dream," he answered, "You went over there to find Peter did you not?"

She nodded.

"And you wanted to be with Peter, you wanted something real with him. So you went Over There to get him back but... it didn't work out all too well."

"Clearly," she said through gritted teeth; her one arm itched slightly; she didn't have to look to know it was caused by the many needle marks on her skin.

"Why didn't the cards fall then?" she asked, "If I want this to be real then I know that the cards will fall, that's what happens."

"Ah but you see," he said, "When you're building a house of cards, you never really want it to fall do you?"

She frowned slightly.

No, she thought.

"Olivia," Cobb said.

She turned to look at him and she saw something in his eyes, something a little more tender than compassion and darker than pity. "I'm asking you to go home, this isn't your home."

She thought about it for a moment, and what home truly meant to her. Her home had been invaded there but not back in reality as she was told. In that reality she and Peter were nothing more than colleagues.

But then she remembered their conversation outside the café and when Cobb had said is simply asking ever enough?

Was his request an incentive tempting enough to make her leave?

"You said to me back at the café," she said, "Is asking ever enough or does it have to be desperate? Tell me Mr. Cobb, how desperate are you for me to return home?"

"Not as desperate as those who are watching over you now."

She shook her head, "But they aren't the ones here right now, they aren't the ones asking me."

"But I already did," he answered.

"You did," she responded.

She saw him sigh heavily, "You can't stay here Olivia."

"Why? You can't forcibly pull me out, if could you probably would have tried by now."

"Because you know now that this isn't real, you just haven't accepted it. If you were to stay here you would have the ability to change things however you wanted, simply out of desire. That's no way to live."

"Then what is the way to live?" she asked, "For the past two years I've been through experiments, I've been held and tested on and nearly had my damn brain cut out and I'm trying to live with those memories."

"But those past two years aren't real," Cobb answered.

And then, she realised it. It unwrapped itself before her eyes like the many folds of paper over a package and she had just torn off the last scrap of paper.

If she went back, she would have a fresh start.

"If anything Olivia," Cobb said, "Go back for Peter, don't leave yourself in this dream and be lost to him forever."

She eyed him curiously; there was a glint of sharp regret in his eyes that bordered on the fringes of pain.

"Have you had something like that happened before?" she asked.

He chewed on his lip slightly and she watched the Adam's apple on his neck bob slightly before he answered, "Yes."

She felt her throat tense, it made sense why he had been so determined to get her out, he had a particular relationship with that kind of pain.

"I'm sorry," she said and after a pause she added "How do I...wake up?"

He motioned with the flick of two fingers "Follow me and I'll show you."

She let him lead her to the back of the warehouse, where a large steel door rose before them.

"Open it," he said.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, "That's it?"

"You want to wake up don't you?"

She nodded calmly.

"Then open the door," he said again.

She curled her hand over the handle, cold and hard like stone and turned it as the metal creaked on aged hinges that squealed like rats.

Light spilled over the barrier, bleeding into the room and blinding Olivia as she covered her eyes against the light.

But before she could even peek through the blindness she felt a large push behind her and she was falling, tumbling through a blinding nothingness that paralysed her with anxiety.

Then she saw it below her, water.

She splashed into the azure waves, spinning and whirling amongst bubbles and swirls as she kicked for the surface.

But there was none.

There was a disorientating moment where she felt as if she were absolutely weightless before she realised again that she was on water...and she was floating.

She opened her eyes, it was dark.

She thought that she was back on the other side.

"Please let me out of here," she said softly.

Her voice echoed through the space as she tried to feel for the walls and water sloshed around her.

"Get me out of here!" She said with more insistence.

A moment later there was more light and two strong arms hooked themselves under her shoulders and pulled her out of the darkness.

It was only the moment after she had settled on the cold floor of the lab that she noticed that she had been in the tank... and was now in the arms of Peter Bishop.

He looked at her as she looked around, disoriented and dazed.

"Olivia," he said and she looked at him, "Glad to have you back sweetheart."

"Peter," she said softly, still dazed over what had just transpired. She tentatively reached a hand over to his arm and gripped it, pulling him closer to her as she leaned against his chest.

"Hey," he whispered into her damp hair, "You're gonna be fine."

Olivia could only hope that he was right.

Later that evening, Olivia sipped her shot of whiskey and then swirled it in her glass as she gazed out the window.

There had been no Dom Cobb sent by Peter and Walter to help her. When she explained it to Walter, he said that in all likelihood it was her mind beginning to revive itself.

It was also strange, being back in a time that existed to her as a distant memory. At least, in a dream it had been.

She started to move towards the door to the balcony of her apartment and then stopped. With a smirk she headed back into the kitchen and opened a drawer, pulling out a deck of cards. She built a small house of cards, only four rows (she wasn't quite as confident in her talent) and set the rest down on the table before she walked away with a smile.

She opened the door to the balcony, letting a small breeze glide in.

She didn't look back to see if the cards were still standing.

End

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Thanks for reading :)