Disclaimer: Still don't own Inception.
The dark-haired woman leaned against the partially closed window and watched, through the small view that it allowed her, as the plane's wing dipped and the city below appeared. The flight was the second one she'd hopped in the last 24 hours, and the dazed sort of numb that came from traveling washed over her; she'd readily admit that the flight was her choice, the plane and leaving.
The stewardess came by to ask people to prepare for landing, and when she went to raise her tray, something seemed 'off' about her hand. A quick glance down revealed bare hands, nails bitten to the quick, and chipped paint. It would be strange, for a while, and then she'd just get used to it. Twenty one days to form a new habit.
Maybe in twenty one days she'd stop crying over him so much.
Because she had enough respect for herself and him to know she had to leave, before they ended up hating one another. His Somnacin use was out of hand, and she had to leave because they couldn't have a life together if he was too busy dreaming it away. She gave him information on the closest Institute Clinic and then forced herself to walk out of his life.
The airport was busy, the usual bustle, but she located them by the large, open arch in front of the parking lot. The sight of her entire family waiting for her, happy to se her, caused her to bolt into an all out sprint, careening into her father's open, waiting arms.
"Daddy, I missed you so much," sobbed Phillipa Cobb into her father's shoulder, who was rocking her in the embrace. It didn't matter that she was a twenty-year-old woman, she still needed him. Her father finally let her go, and Ariadne's small form was tugging her into a warm hug.
"You did the right thing," the older woman whispered into her ear, a soothing hand patting her back. "Your father and I are so proud of you, Peanut."
After a peck on the cheek, she stepped back, and Phillipa could see that the year since she had left to live with her boyfriend hadn't changed her stepmother; she still looked younger than her forty-something years and she was wearing a scarf, as always to cover the scar from 15 years ago.
Her siblings, Caroline and Stephen crashed into her and latched onto her, Stephen surprisingly strong for his ten years. She looked to the others and was so glad for their presence: her father, with his quiet love and growing wrinkles; Ariadne, with her quiet, efficient grace that seemed to balance her father perfectly; Uncle Arthur and his husband, forever squabbling but always loving; their son, Stephen's best friend; Ariadne's brother, Uncle Toby, who was her age and who, when they greeted one another, offered to beat the crap out of Phil's ex, mentioning something about 'diplomatic immunity' with a wink.
There was a moment, a quick pang of loss, when she missed her grandparents. She would have to visit them later, her grandparents and her mother, after things were settled.
Things, really would never be settled; that was the nature of life, she was learning. But she knew she'd be able to handle it. Her parents, Dominic and Ariadne Cobb, had raised her to, had shown her to.
Their honesty with her had been the reason she'd refused the job offer that had come while she was in school, some group that promised an exciting life and travel and a sense of serving her country, because she knew better, thanks to them. While they didn't share everything with their children, they had told them enough. She had called her parents immediately, and while she couldn't say it was the definite reason, she watched on TV as the man who tried to recruit her be escorted to his own trial by INTERPOL agents, a month later, while she sat at a bar with friends.
As they arrived back and shuffled into the cedar shingled house that she called her 'home', she watched as her parents milled about, perfect partners in dance they didn't know they share, and her siblings and cousins and uncles as they chattered, and realized, quite suddenly, why it didn't bother either of her parents that they couldn't dream anymore.
They were living one, in reality, one they had built for all of them.
Playlist (with link if you're on Livejournal)
Greg Laswell – What a Day
Author's Note:
First of all, I want to thank all the people I've talked with and 'met' while writing this, particularly swampophelia, who is more amazing and clever than she could possibly know. There are so many of you, and you all helped me to write this, in your own way.
This story is over 65 thousand words; it's the longest thing I have ever written. It's the second longest fic on ffnet in the Inception section, and the longest Ariadne/Cobb fic here. From beginning to end, this was a novel-length fic, written in two months, and that's thanks to all of you, who kept me encouraged and enthused about this project.
In the next few days, I'm going to try to put together a sort of chapter-length author's note about this, and it will be over on livejournal, to help clear up some of the more confusing matters. In addition, I'm working on a very short prequel/companion piece, but that might not be posted until later this week or next week.
Again, thank you for taking the time to read this, and for sharing in something like this, with me.