She died on a Sunday.
He heard the doctor ("-massive loss of blood. We did everything we could, but-") and nodded, not taking his eyes off the tile.
"Arthur?" Dr. Finn asked gently, laying his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I'm-"
"My wife." Arthur looked at the doctor. "When can I see my wife?"
Dr. Finn sighed and patted Arthur's back. "Son…"
Arthur glanced at the old man and narrowed his eyebrows. "When can I see Ariadne? She's not going to be taking this well, I need to be there when she wakes up."
"Arthur. She's gone."
Arthur stared at the doctor like he'd grown a third eye.
"My wife. I need to see my wife. My wife…"
Arthur's shoulders began to shake as tears spilled down his cheeks. He crumpled forward, grabbing his knees as sobs wracked his body.
His cries echoed down the hallway, reaching Cobb and Eames in the waiting room. Cobb closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. Eames could do little more than stare straight ahead.
"That poor baby," Cobb sighed. "God, that poor baby."
Eames nodded, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. "I… I don't know what to do."
"I don't either."
"Mr. Cobb?"
Cobb and Eames turned to face the voice in the doorway, meeting eyes with the slight nurse that had called his name. She came and sat across from Cobb, her face already waxing pity.
"What happened?"
"She started to hemorrhage and…"
"I don't understand, did they knick her or something?"
"I'm sorry?"
"How could the baby hemorrhage? I don't understand."
The nurse's mouth dropped a little, looking first at Eames, then back at Cobb.
"Mr. Cobb, the baby is fine."
"I thought you just said-"
"Mr. Cobb."
It hit him like a truck at the same time it dawned on Eames. The color ran from Cobb's face, as his eyes grew wide. Eames dropped his head with a muffled cough.
"My God, how?"
"There was a clot and-"
"I'm sorry," Eames interrupted. "I'm sorry, I just… I'm sorry. I'm not following this. How is the baby?"
"She's fine."
"And Ariadne?"
"Sir-"
And there it was. The realization they'd all been ignoring. She was an architect in one of the most dangerous fields in the world and she'd been felled by a blood clot. It was the most bitter irony imaginable. Cobb just mouthed wordlessly, looking from the nurse to his hands to Eames, who was shaking a little, his face buried in his hands.
"I'm sorry."
"I need to see her," Eames said suddenly, standing up.
"Sir, I'm sorry, only her husband is allowed to see her bo-"
"Not Ariadne, the baby," Eames interrupted, shuttering.
The nurse said nothing in response, which Eames took as permission, following her through the doors and into the hallway opposite where Arthur and the doctor were. It was a short walk to the nursery, where rows upon rows of babies squirmed and wailed.
It was like nails on a chalkboard, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. So much life, so much happiness in the midst of their sadness, their disbelief. He needed to see the baby, not because he was particularly fond of children, but because he needed to see some part of Ariadne.
The nurse instructed him to wash his hands and put a gown on before leading him to the end of the last row.
"Here you go," she said, stopping in front of the tiny bassinet. Wrapped in a pink and blue blanket, the little girl was staring right into his eyes, burning into his soul and he felt lost and found at the same time. He placed his hand on her chest, his palm nearly covering her entire body and just looked her, his eyebrows knitted together.
She was peachy and covered in what looked like a soft down. Her eyes were glazed and her head covered with a hat, though a flash of black hair dared to peek from underneath. She was, as far as he could tell, the spitting image of Arthur and that pained him.
Alone. In his entire life, he'd never felt so alone and he was sure that wasn't anywhere near what Arthur was feeling right now. His disbelief in God was reaffirmed, knowing that no good and benevolent God would steal a mother from her daughter so soon. Alone.
He stayed there for a long time, he wasn't sure how long, but when he realized the sun was setting, he found himself sitting in a chair, cradling the baby and fighting drooping eyes.
He knew he should put her back, let the nurses do their jobs, but he couldn't. He felt like he was holding Ariadne's hand again, about to fall into dreams and when he awoke, she'd be gone.
Eames stood and walked back to the bassinet, lying the sleeping babe down and searching the room for a nurse.
"Has her dad been in?" he asked, tugging his gown off and throwing it away. The nurse shook his head sadly.
"Still with the mother last I heard."
"Right."
Eames padded into the hallway, not surprised to find Cobb sitting outside the nursery on the floor, half asleep.
"I took the kids to Miles and Justine," he said. "I couldn't leave him here. Her parents are on the way, his sisters too. " Cobb looked up at Eames. "You were in there for an hour."
"Lost track of time," Eames replied, running his hand over his face and through his hair.
The two men sat in silence for a long time until the whoosh of the doors startled them. Arthur stood in front of the nursery window, his face pale and his eyes swollen.
"Which one is she?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Eames stood and pointed to the very back.
"She's the one not crying," he said, putting his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Come on, mate."
Eames led his friend into the nursery, bypassing the sink and gowns, ignoring the nurse barking orders to the contrary, and stopped Arthur in front of his daughter's bassinet.
She was still asleep, her head turned to the left, swaddled tightly. Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, running his finger over her cheek and smiling.
"What's her name?" Eames asked, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Addison," Arthur replied, picking the baby up and holding her close.
"Eh, not what I would have picked, but…"
Arthur smirked a little, rocking back and forth gently.
"I'll leave you be."
Arthur said nothing in response. Eames patted his back and left the nursery, signaling to Cobb that they could go.
As the two men crossed the parking lot towards their respective cars, daylight was extinguished.
She was born on a Sunday.