Disclaimer: I only own Inception in my dreams.

Recollection

Chapter One: Peter Browning

"Always recognize that human individuals are ends, and do not use them as means to your end."
-Immanuel Kant

Peter Browning was not a violent man. At least, not usually. No, he much preferred a more subtle plan of action. Conning, tricking, and manipulating to get what he wanted was much more his "style", so to speak. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was most certainly a desperate time. He sat down at the head position of a long, mahogany table, clearing his throat to gain the room's attention. On cue, fourteen pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. He didn't keep them waiting. "As you know, Robert Fischer has chosen a most… unusual plan of action. His desire to dissolve the Fischer Morrow empire appeared so suddenly, in fact, that I grew suspicious. When he told me about his idea, I asked him where it came from. And do you know what he told me?" No one answered; they knew the question was rhetorical. "'A dream, Uncle Peter', is what he said, 'a dream'." The room broke out in conspiratorial whispers. "Could it be?"… "no, no, of course not"… "but what he said, it all points to…".

"Inception," Browning confirmed, a solemn expression on his face. Some people gasped. Some remained stoic. Others looked confused. "Yes. While Robert Fischer was flying from Sydney to Los Angeles, an extraction team composed of five members, hired by a Mr. Yasuo Saito -head of Saito Enterprises, entered Robert Fischer's mind and implanted the idea that led to his recent actions." The room was shocked. They were still reeling over the fact that Inception was possible. Suddenly, a woman in a crisp navy dress suit spoke up. "How are we certain Inception was performed? On that note, how could you possibly know so much about the team who performed it? Could it not have just been a very lucid dream?" Some others murmured in agreement.

"Well, you see, we have our own team here at Fischer Morrow, and we preformed Recollection on Mr. Fischer- with his permission, of course." All fourteen people up at Browning, confused. "Wait," a man sitting at the far end of the table asked, "what's Recollection?"

"Recollection is another, relatively new, facet of shared dreaming technology. As you know, memories are stored in the mind. Also, memories are highly connected to dreams, and sleeping, as it is at night that the mind filters through memories, sorting them, and so on and so forth. You can also see the connection in how Projections are simply people, or compilations of people, that the subject has seen before, memories- if you will. Well, because of this link, a team of extractors can go into a person's mind, given the person is asleep, and instead of focusing on the dream, they focus on the subject's memories. Or, in this case, his memory of a dream. When the extraction team got into his head, they quickly recognized all the members of the Inception team. All, that is, except for one." Browning reached into his briefcase, pulling out a thick stack of manila folders. "Here," he said, handing the stack to the man directly to his left, "pass these around." The man nodded, taking a folder for himself before passing it to the person next to him. As the pile of folders circulated around the room, gradually growing smaller, Browning continued.

"Even when I told Mr. Fischer about the Inception, it still didn't change his mind. However, we can't let these criminals walk away freely-" the group murmured their agreement, "So there is only one thing we can do. We can get revenge. And I know exactly how to go about it. Open your folders." Everyone opened their folders and gasped at the picture they saw. "Yes, this mission was headed by the infamous Dom Cobb. Turn the page, I think you'll find the other participants just as familiar." They did as they were told, instantly recognizing the faces of Eames, Arthur, and Yusuf. No one, however, recognized the person in the last image, a petite young woman with wavy brown hair and large brown eyes. Browning answered their questions before they even had a chance to ask, "Ariadne Andrews, twenty-three, studying architecture in Paris. She was also the architect for the Inception team. We'll go after her first. We have reason to believe she is romantically involved with the Point Man, Arthur Giordano, also, considering she's new to the field, her training is minimal. An easy, and unexpected, target."

"So when do we attack?" the woman in the navy dress suit asked.

"One step ahead of you."

Ariadne sighed as she opened the door to her Paris flat. She knew she could afford better after the Inception job that was completed a little more than a month ago, but this was home. She didn't want to move. Thinking about Inception, she sank down onto her couch, putting her keys and her purse on the coffee table. Almost everything she did made her think about Inception, about Arthur, about the kiss. Every time she closed her eyes, that scene played in her head.

"Quick, give me a kiss."

She smiled, biting her lip at the thought. It had been a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck on the lips, but there was that spark, that infamous spark that her friends always talked about. Almost as soon as it began, however, it was over, leaving her wanting more. And then, after they all woke up, they ignored each other, as was the protocol. In her mind she knew this, but she couldn't help but feel disappointed he didn't acknowledge her at all- a smile, a wink, a wave, anything. But no, he just grabbed his bag and left. She knew it was silly, it was just a kiss, after all. He most likely didn't mean anything by it- she didn't even know his last name.

It wasn't until she got back to Paris a few days later that her old insecurities came back to haunt her. She was sure Arthur would want someone prettier, someone taller, someone more experienced. After all, her sole focus for all her dating years was school, and later, her career.

It was then that she heard footsteps. She jumped to her feet, suddenly on high alert. "Hello?" she called out, hoping it was just paranoia. She noticed her bedroom door was open, which was odd, considering she had a strange habit of closing all her doors before she left her flat. She cautiously opened the door, and screamed when a hand grabbed her wrist.

Miles looked out at his class, noticing the empty seat in the front row. That struck him as peculiar; Ariadne never missed class without calling him to explain beforehand. At the end of the day, he walked to where he knew Ariadne lived, concerned. To his horror, their was a police car stationed in front of the door. A small group of people (other residents of the apartment building, he suspected), had gathered around, gossiping in french. He approached the police officer cautiously. "Could you please tell me, sir, what happened here?"

The police officer looked rather miffed, but responded anyway. "Some grad student's gone missing. We got called about a domestic disturbance, only to find the apartment empty and in a state of disarray. The guess is she's been kidnapped."

Miles silently cursed his son-in-law as he turned to head home. He quickly dialed a number on his phone. "Dom," he said, "we have a problem."

AN: I know this isn't the second chapter, but with loads of help from InkPhantom, one of my new betas, I was able to revise this chapter. I really appreciate it, InkPhantom (I actually cringed at some of the mistakes you pointed out). I have no doubt that my collaboration with a few betas will greatly improve this story and make it much more enjoyable. Thanks once again!

I'll be putting up chapter two soon, within the next few days :)