The Last Reality

Discworld/Inception Crossover

By Vifetoile

A/N: Short, not-to-be-taken-too-seriously, just one of those ideas that's too good to pass up. Besides, I'm breaking open new horizons – the only (so far) Discworld/Inception Crossover! Also, you just can't resist a chance to use Death.

DEATH belongs to Sir Terry Pratchett. Mal Cobb belongs to the writers of Inception.


The fall had been fun. Slowly, she smiled as she lay facedown on the ground, and then she picked herself up.

But her smile died as she looked at the landscape around her. It was a dark, featureless plain, devoid of light, stretching as far as she could see on any side. It could not be reality

"This has to be a dream," she said aloud. "This has to be a dream."

She turned around and around, looking over each horizon. "I couldn't be wrong. I couldn't… could I?"

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE.

"Who said that?"

She turned around, and there was Death. She knew it was Death, not a puppet, not a cloak-wearing, scythe-bearing fellow short of a few square meals.

"You," she said slowly, "are not a dream."

VERY GOOD.

She shook her head. "You're too real."

YES, I AM.

"Where do I go?"

TO THE EDGE OF THE DESERT.

"What about my children?"

YOU CANNOT HELP THEM NOW.

"What about Dom?"

THAT IS HIS OWN CHOICE.

"Will he follow me?" She gasped. "Please, I don't want him to follow me… After all I said to him… will he?"

I DO NOT THINK HE WILL FOLLOW.

She sank onto the sand. "What have I done?" Death said nothing. She stayed on the black sand, crying without any tears. Finally she looked up. "What if I stayed?"

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO DO THAT?

She thought, and asked, "That would mean I would be a ghost?"

YES.

She stood up – awkwardly at first, then with some of the grace she'd possessed while alive – and brushed the sand off of her black dress. "No. I thought I was a ghost for too long. Let me know what's real – and let me remain real."

YOU DON'T GET MORE REAL THAN THIS.

She nodded to Death. "Thank you, monsieur."

Death inclined his head, and grinned.* YOU HAVE CHOSEN WELL, MALLORIE DANIELLE COBB.

Mal turned to leave and her foot stepped on something. She picked it up. It was a little gold top. She shrugged, and dropped the top into the sand.

* Death rarely has any other facial expressions, but at least sometimes his grin is a friendly one.