livelihood's satisfaction

One Shot

Author's Note: Translation: voz'mite menya = take me and moya lyubov' = my love (I literally just used google translate so it's likely not entirely correct)

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of those who created the movie Inception. The character, Antonina Novokoff, and the story plot are my property, along with other names and locations. No copyright infringement is intended.

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It is a dream.

And Eames knows that. But they are always like this, in some far away place where he had been with her, it is never anywhere new or created; it is some place from his memory every single time. And that is dangerously stupid of him to do but it's not like he actually chooses anything – it just happens.

So, really, he can't exactly judge Cobb when he is no better. Worse even. At least Dom has a plausible excuse for why the same shade of a woman is occupying every dream that he has. His wife dying; a tragedy, that is something worthy of justification.

A broken heart, however, is not.

A hand touches his shoulder, as if she knew that he had been thinking of her, but he does not turn around or give any sign that he has noticed her presence. It is not possible though, with her aroma of lemons and honey swirling into his senses, driving him to paradise at mock twelve.

He remains impassive on the outside with much effort, frustrating him to no end knowing how she is the only one who manages to tear apart the walls he has set up around himself – the real Eames. Not the mask of so many different identities that he has worn for so long to keep people on their toes.

He stares hard out at the ocean. They are in the suite at some exotic island that he remembers she had had the most difficulty pronouncing correctly in her thick Russian accent. It has a huge king sized bed with fluffy, feathered white pillows and a matching comforter, the deep burgundy of the mahogany bed set is exquisite, and a few plush chairs litter the large area. Every thing else is just creamy tan carpeting and walls. The sun sets over the horizon, casting an enchanting orange glow around the room and emanating just enough heat to be comfortable. A light breeze blows in from the balcony, catching the thin white drapes in its dance. The waves crashing down at the beach only add to the vividness of the dream.

Another hand comes to rest on his other shoulder before they glide down his back, going slowly over his tensed shoulder blades and finally snaking around his waist.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" She whispers as her chin sits on his left shoulder, her hands stroking his abdomen, making the muscles tense beneath her touch.

His heart hammers against his rib cage, he can feel her chest against his back and the movement of her hands are causing a stirring in his veins that he has bloody well missed more than he realized. It is not just lust. No, this feeling is one that only comes from his Nina.

Merely the thought of her name – Antonina Novokoff – makes his stomach churn with the same feelings he has been trying to sort out this past year. The heartbreak is still so fresh despite the time. He ignores her question.

"Why did you leave me, Nina?" His voice is low, strained from the tightening in his throat. He turns his face to see her for the first time.

There she is in all her perfection. And it is breathtaking to him. Her blue eyes, as deep as the depth of the ocean, the soft blonde hair that just barely grazes her shoulders, waving in the wind like a wheat field. None of it prepares him to hear his own name being spoken from her sweet, full lips.