Title: Endgame
Rating: T for alcohol references
Movie: Inception
Summary: Things between Arthur and Ariadne had been in a stalemate for far too long and it's time for someone to make that final move.
Disclaimer: I have absolutely no ownership over these lovely characters. Christopher Nolan does.
...
"Arthur? Arthur, is that you?"
Of all the people to show up in her little corner of Paris why the hell was it a man she never thought she would see again?
Ariadne had worked her damndest to move past her brief and torrid affair with dreaming. She really had. She had taken the first red-eye she could catch back to France after the completion of the Fischer job and promptly re-assumed her horrifyingly neglected studies. With a sense of determination bordering on the obsessive, Ariadne buried herself in books and found herself the owner of a degree that she had little interest in using. Her skills in design upon her return to scholastic pursuits far outstripped her peers and she had offers of employment waiting impatiently in her mailbox even before she had her diploma in hand. And now, just over a year later, Ariadne held a steady job at one of the finer architectural design firms in all of France.
She really wasn't sure as to what had kept her in Paris. It was partly convenience (she had no desire to go through a cross-continental move again anytime in the next decade) and partly because despite her efforts to forget about dabbling in inception, she wanted to hold on to the ghosts of the familiar faces that she had watched drift away in a Los Angeles airport.
Even though Ariadne hated herself for doing it, she would sometimes casually stroll by the old warehouse and if no one was around, she would go stand where her table used to be and allow the specters of her memories to echo in the empty space. If she tried she could practically hear Arthur scolding Eames for not taking his job seriously, smell Yusef's god awful chemical concoctions and see Cobb's face etched with pain as he sat at his desk. While bittersweet, these memories had sustained her through months of seemingly endless tedium. She had few friends now as a result of both her disappearing act as well as her single-minded focus on work. It was her own fault and she didn't mind.
Much.
Ariadne hadn't expected anything of importance to occur on an afternoon stroll around the park near her flat. She certainly didn't expect to see the slender suit-clad Point Man who had guided her through the process of dreaming and had saved her more than once from the outrageous advances of Eames. She quickly reached into her trench coat to touch the cool metal of the rook nestled comfortably in the pocket and reassure herself that she wasn't dreaming; a habit she still hadn't broken.
He didn't seem to see her at first. His lanky frame reclined on a sunlit bench with a well-worn novel occupying his attention. She was bemused to see him wearing one of his favorite charcoal grey suits paired with a crisp white shirt and silver tie. His sense of style had always given her flashbacks of by-gone eras of slick, sexy mobsters and detectives chain-smoking with buxom blondes perched on their desks. It wouldn't be a stretch to picture him with a black and white filmy grain. Time hadn't dulled her memory of his face; dark eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her and see things that she never could, lines around them that would crinkle when he smiled, oh dear, that smile…
Excitement warred with hesitation in her mind. Would it be risky to say hello? Would he want to see her? What was he doing back in Paris? Why now? Her sense of curiosity won out against her nerves and she strode towards him deliberately, calling, "Arthur? Arthur, is that you?"
Blinking himself out of whatever world his book had had him in she saw his features change as he recognized the source of the tentative greeting. He set down his novel and ran his hand over his impeccably gel-slicked hair. Slinging his hands in his pockets, Arthur stood to acknowledge her. He smiled the half-smile that both intrigued and infuriated her when they spent all those hours poring over her drafting table. Her reaction to it remained the same even over a year later.
In his silk-lined pockets he grasped his loaded die, desperate to confirm that she really was standing there in front of him and looking at him expectantly. God, she looked even lovelier than he remembered. That unruly chestnut hair was somewhat tamed by a loose ponytail while her chocolate eyes sparkled with what he hoped was happiness. He almost laughed aloud when he noticed that she hadn't given up the penchant for patterned silk scarves that had so amused him. A bright blue one pooled over the cream of her wool coat and led the eye towards the dark skinny jeans she wore that highlighted her petite figure.
He managed to say casually, "Hello Ariadne." That sounded banal even to his ears. Arthur fervently wished that those six syllables could communicate just how glad he was to finally find a familiar face after spending the last year immersing himself in everything foreign in a failed attempt to forget the Fischer job. None of the team had been prepared for how far down the proverbial rabbit hole they would plummet. Certainly it was not an experience Arthur had any desire to repeat.
But his desire for repression came up a close second to needing contact with someone that understood what he had seen, what he had done. That list of people was painfully short and the male friends on it were all scattered and lost on their own life missions. That left one person. One young woman. And if the truth be told, she was the only one he wanted.
Arthur missed the breath of fresh air Ariadne had been for all of them; a reminder of a time before the fall from grace. He especially missed the stunning wit she never hesitated to use and the quirk of her lips when she puzzled through a difficult architectural detail. He had been more than a bit surprised to find that she had returned to the team's old headquarters. The decision to find her for himself was easy enough to make. It was even easier to procure tickets on a quick flight from Spain into France and from there a mere cab ride before he found himself in her neighborhood.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, confusion etching a slight wrinkle in her brow. After nearly managing to sublimate memories of her former compatriots in sketching until her eyes crossed, Ariadne's hastily assembled sense of normalcy was quickly shattering.
Arthur debated for a moment as to how to answer that question. He could say that work brought him to the City of Love because technically he was in fact looking to get back into a more legitimate line of work. He could say that he was just passing through Europe because if she didn't want him around then he would respect her wishes and abscond to yet another nation of strangers. But some puckish impulse made him blurt out the truth: "To see you."
Ariadne blinked as she tried to process that unexpected response. What the hell did that mean? She couldn't fathom what was so interesting about her that he would seek her out in their old haunt.
"I'd heard that you came back here. I… I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing." Yet another veiled statement. How could he show up and act as though nothing had changed?
To his relief she cracked a smile and commented wryly, "You're lucky that I know what you do for a living, otherwise that remark could be seen as vaguely stalker-ish."
He chuckled and admitted, "Under the circumstances I would have to agree."
"Did you know I was here?" Ariadne asked with a hint of suspicion. She never doubted that if he wanted to, he certainly could have found out where her places of refuge lay.
With a wounded expression Arthur said mournfully, "You won't let the stalker thing go, will you?" He sighed, "The answer to that is no. My hotel is a few blocks over and since it was such a nice day, I thought I'd get some much needed sun." His fair complexion had been the butt of many snarky comments on the part of both Eames and Yusef and was not a favored feature of his.
"You didn't get to see much of daylight when we were here before." She added, "I don't blame you for wanting to be out. It's lovely at this time of day."
"I really did want to see you, though." He said simply. "I was hoping that maybe we can get something to eat together and catch up. Do you have any plans tonight?"
She was more than a bit taken aback by Arthur's direct approach to establishing a social relationship. In their previous interactions, he had been eternally polite and had maintained a perfectly professional camaraderie between them. Well, except for that kiss that they shared. But Ariadne was quick to realize that meeting him now was a completely different set of circumstances: they were no longer co-workers and as such there were no longer expectations or standards of behavior between them. She found herself wondering what it would be like to really get to know the straight-laced Point Man when his tie was figuratively loosened.
Struck by a mischievous memory, she inquired, "So are you still absolutely unfortunate in the kitchen?"
Arthur's face burned all the way to the tips of his ears as he muttered sheepishly, "I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."
Her eyebrows soared towards her hairline. "Forget the beyond unusual experience of trying to scrape burnt tomatoes out of my favorite pot? Not a chance."
"Damn. Well, for the sake of your kitchen and more than likely your sanity, I suggest we find somewhere to go. I bow to your superior local expertise." He did actually honor her with an obsequious little curtsy which she dutifully laughed at.
"I'll ignore the fact that you know this part of Paris as well as I do and accept that compliment as prettily as I can. C'mon, I know where we should go."
Arthur causally offered Ariadne his arm as the two strolled leisurely out of the park with the afternoon sun casting the world in a warm golden hue. The silk of Arthur's jacket felt cool beneath her fingertips and he could feel the warmth of her body while it fitted easily against his side. The tang of new growth permeated the air and offered the tantalizing promise of true spring and beginning again. The pair crossed beneath the iron-wrought entrance to the park and Ariadne's cheeks flushed as she marveled at how easy she felt around a man she had barely known outside of their very dangerous jobs. It hadn't been this effortless to just be with someone in quite some time.
She was momentarily distracted from this rather fascinating line of mental inquiry by the mundane reality of hailing a cab. When one screeched to a stop at the curb Arthur pulled the door open with a flourish and gallantly ushered her into it. After explaining their desired location to the driver they settled into a comfortable conversation about nothing in particular until arriving at a hole-in-the-wall café he didn't recognize which, she assured him, possessed a fabulous wine list. They were seated in a cozy booth that was out of the way of excessive foot traffic and were served their dinner and drinks with almost baffling speed.
"So tell me about your life." Ariadne said over her wineglass. "What's your story?"
"You know, I don't know that anyone has ever asked me that before." He mused, "Well, what do you want to know? And none of this information is free, by the way."
"Oh?"
"What questions I answer, you answer."
She blinked in confusion, "Didn't you get the skinny on everything interesting about me when you checked me out for Dom?"
Arthur smiled as he sipped his merlot. "Some," he corrected, "But I'd rather hear it from you."
Over the next few hours, Arthur and Ariadne ascertained that both of them had come from middle-class and single child families. Where he had roots in upstate New York she stemmed from a Chicago suburb. They discovered they had mutual loves for old Hollywood movies and cheese and distaste for pickles and people who cough without getting water. As conversation flowed so did the wine and before long both of them were pleasantly befuddled.
He came to realize that the list of information he had compiled in what felt like another life showed little similarity to the extremely special woman seated two feet away. He ardently wished that he had gotten to know Ariadne when he had the chance, but still understood that love in that time of chaos would have been risky at best. But, he reasoned, couldn't tonight be some sort of second chance; an offering of redemption? If there was anyone who could bring him back to the real world it was Ariadne. He watched the way her eyes lit up when she spoke, how her lips pressed against her glass and imagined her in his bed; those same eyes darkened in passion and lips swollen with his kisses.
The problem with that rather lovely fit of imagination was that above all else Arthur was first and foremost a gentleman. He also had little reason to believe that she would reciprocate these feelings. As much as it absolutely sucked to be him, he wouldn't dare pressure her into any situation she didn't desire.
Across the table, Ariadne was trapped in the quagmire of very similar and very incorrect line of thought. She was convinced that although he had demonstrated interest in getting to know her, he clearly wasn't interested in striking up a physical (let alone a romantic) relationship. If she was to think rationally, she knew that Arthur had lost his connection to those closest to him and she was more than likely his last resort. That was a total blow to her self-esteem and she wasn't quite ok with being used as the evening's entertainment. The idea that Arthur would find her even remotely interesting on her own never entered her mind.
Before the wine in her head caused her to dissolve into hysterical tears like a college girl who'd had one too many, she asked tentatively if Arthur was ready to go. He acquiesced and before she could protest paid the bill without ceremony. They stepped outside into the now darkened streets where the soft glow of the lamps illuminated the shades of pedestrians slipping through the shadows. A cab was whistled for and Arthur gave him Ariadne's address without a second thought.
"Creep." She managed to mutter coherently, "Knowing where I live."
He chuckled at her indignant pout and with courage born from liquor settled his arm around her shoulder. "S'all the job, Ari..." Arthur trailed off as his eyes met hers in the darkened vehicle. He saw the turmoil in them begging for some form of answer. The most humane solution he could come up with (which also happened to be his current desire) was to kiss her so he slowly inclined his head to place his lips on hers. Whether it was the wine or just the need to feel him closer, she responded enthusiastically by grabbing his tie and pulling him into her chest.
The moments stretched on and on into idyllic bliss before the cab came to a very sudden stop. Ariadne's pale skin turned a shade of red usually reserved for ripe tomatoes and she stumbled out as quickly as her body would react. Arthur handed the driver a wad of bills and as it peeled away and left the pair alone in the night, he turned to her with thousands of words clamoring for the right to be heard in his head. Most of them involved expressing feelings that he was nearly positive would completely baffle her and some that he was sure would make her blush to the tips of her toes. But what he managed to say was "Can I come up?"
Ariadne was thunderstruck by his request. She didn't quite trust to hope that this was more than just a wish to sober up in a friendly environment, but she couldn't help herself. "Of course." She said simply.
The walk up into her building seemed to take quadruple its normal time; even the hallway itself seemed to stretch into an optical illusion with the end waiting just out of reach. Not a word was said between the two, despite the questions both wanted to ask and the confessions that needed to be heard. Once the excruciating journey of roughly a few hundred feet was through, Ariadne fumbled through her purse for her key and stabbed the lock several times before the tumbler chose to cooperate.
When the door opened she stood awkwardly off to the side and ushered the man into her apartment. It was considerably nicer than the flat she had rented during her tenure as a member of the dream team and Arthur had the presence of mind to be suitably impressed. She let the door swing closed and both stood in silence as the lock clicked into place.
She didn't really know how else to react to the door bring shut then reaching up and grasping the back of Arthur's head and pulling him to her lips for a gentle kiss. There actually wasn't a hell of a lot that Ariadne was sure of at that moment. What she did know was that she was lonely. He was lonely. If the two of them were together, maybe the ache that seemed ever present in her heart would go away. Especially since the night had shown her that her feelings for the Point Man hadn't changed; if anything they had deepened.
He seemed startled by her forward move; an amusing contrast to the first kiss the two of them had shared back in a far away dream or the second in the cab where he had been the bold one. However, Arthur wasn't about to let his Architect have all the fun. He snaked his arms around her waist as his mouth opened to invite hers in. His tongue slid against hers and sent sparks ricocheting through her, causing her to moan softly. He captured the sound with his lips and growled low in his throat in reply. Heat radiated from both of their cheeks, flushed with desire and good French wine.
When they had to oblige their physical requirement to breathe Ariadne's eyes widened in shock. "What… what is going on?" she asked in a voice that wobbled, dangerously close to breaking. For an astounding moment Arthur stood speechless. "I don't do this," she said mostly to herself, "I don't get drunk and I don't get kissed like that and I don't know what I was thinking-"
He derailed her train of thought by grabbing her hand in supplication. "Breathe, Ari. Breathe." Arthur's eyes searched hers, seeking some confirmation within their caramel depths. "Do you want to know why I came here with you tonight?" He asked candidly without waiting for an answer, "I wanted to see you, be with you. I needed to see that our time together wasn't just another dream. It's cliché, I know, but I don't give a damn anymore. "
"But why me? I'm just the nerdy girl who designs buildings that no one ever gives a second glance. That's all." Ariadne pulled her hand away and wrapped her arms around herself, subconsciously manifesting her desire for comfort and security in this new and unstable version of the world.
"Bullshit." He replied succinctly, crossing his arms with a frown.
Plaintively she whispered, "Why now? I won't be just another girl to you, Arthur. I can't. I care too much about you for this to be just a one-night deal." Her heart absolutely ached for him to put his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be ok but Ariadne refused. She would not compromise herself for something ephemeral like a love that would turn into nothing but a dream in the pale morning light.
Arthur tried to explain himself as best he could, "It was too dangerous to distract you during that last job; I didn't want to compromise you or get you hurt. And you just walked away in the airport that day and I lost you. I've spent the last year thinking about you and trying to forget you because you are so far beyond my reach." He stared at the toes of his brightly polished dress shoes, hoping against hope that she would vindicate him and let him into her life so that he could begin again.
"You've got this all wrong, you're the one who is out of reach!" She looked at him in confusion. "How the hell did things get so backwards?"
Somehow he knew that the question wasn't really meant for him, but he felt compelled to answer in his own way. His onyx eyes met hers and he said tenderly as he moved towards her, "You are completely dense." When she glowered at him, he continued, "You have no idea that I'm completely in love with you, do you?"
"What?" She sputtered articulately.
"I know you probably don't believe me, but I am. I haven't stopped thinking about you. I missed your smile, your laugh, your stubborn pout, your sense of humor-"
She demanded, "Then why did you just disappear for the last year? You could have found me anytime you wanted. I've been waiting." Her last statement was a surprise to even herself; but it was the long-hidden truth. That was why she had returned to where their grand adventure in dreaming had begun and where her life had changed forever. She had been hoping against hope that things would return to what had become normal during those chaotic months, and that the Point Man would find her again and give her a challenge. And more than that; give her a chance at happiness.
Arthur sighed and stuck his hands sheepishly in his pockets. "I wanted to try and let you go because I didn't think I deserved you. But life is funny like that, I guess, because you are the one person in the world that I realized I needed." He smiled sadly at Ariadne. He knew that she probably could never forgive him for his stupidity and was ready to walk out the door if that was what she wanted.
"Really?" Her voice was barely a whisper. She bit her lip anxiously and took a tentative step in his direction. "All this time I didn't think you remembered that I existed, let alone that you were in love with me."
The world had been flipped upside down and Arthur felt as disoriented as he had in that long-ago dream hotel when he had been adrift in zero-gravity. But this was infinitely more terrifying. The pair was standing on the brink of something exquisitely unknown and they realized that what was said in the next few moments could change everything between them forever.
"Can we start again, Ari?" He asked. That simple question offered an infinite number of interpretations and he hoped against hope that she would understand as she had always understood him. He wanted to renew what began so long ago and learn all of the secrets Ariadne held that no dossier ever could.
"Yes." She realized that one word was completely incapable of demonstrating exactly how much she wanted this. So she repeated it. Several times. "Yes, yes, yes!" Ariadne flung her arms around his neck and felt her heart overflowing with joy. Burying her face in his well-pressed suit, she marveled at how wonderful it felt to be in his arms. In her wildest dreams she never imagined that this, this thing between them, could ever exist in anything other than a fantasy. Arthur leaned his head against hers and inhaled the sweet smell of cinnamon and spice that was Ariadne. Now, he wanted nothing but to solidify that this moment was real. He reached one hand into his pocket and felt a surge of relief at the weight of his loaded die. He chuckled to note that she was doing the same with the rook he knew must be in her coat.
"Worried this was just a dream?" He inquired bemusedly while he pulled back to study her expression.
She replied with a quiet joy that warmed him to his core, "No. This is better."
...
The End