Right, so...I think this is fluff? I'm not sure, I never normally write it. Firstly, I know a lot of you guys who liked the Always a Woman oneshots wanted some more A/A, so here it is. Secondly, I'm aware that the translation of Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien might not be accurate. It's the best I could find.
Characters/Concept/Awesomeness - All belong to Chris Nolan.
"Hey, Arthur?" The point man glanced up at the sound of his name, and then back down to the papers littering the large table in front of him. He began putting them in order – more than half of the mess belonged to Eames; it was as if the forger had never heard of tidiness.
"Yes?"
"Why is it that we always use the same music for the countdown to kicks?" Ariadne was still lying on the dilapidated deckchair, toying with the IV she'd just removed from her arm. "What made you choose it?"
"I didn't." Arthur said simply, a frown forming on his face – he'd found a magazine mixed in with the photos of targets, old and new. So, that was where Eames had gotten the template for that woman. "Cobb did. It was a favourite of Mal's."
"Oh."
Silence fell, and Arthur hoped it wasn't awkward. He wasn't very good and judging these sorts of things for himself. Eames said it indicated that he was a sociopath.
"But, Cobb's not working with us anymore. Maybe we should change it? Y'know," Ariadne shifted uncomfortably in her chair, sitting up and stretching. "Out with the old, in with the new?"
"If we were really going to do the whole renovation thing we'd really have to find a new base." Arthur pointed out.
He'd grown quite attached to the Parisian warehouse. As part of the payment for the job, Saito let them use the airline he'd bought whenever they wanted, so there was no difficulty with everyone moving in from wherever they had been before. They'd even began to redecorate in the backrooms with the (what Arthur thought was outlandish and extravagant) amount of money they'd been paid, painting and choosing bedrooms. There was even a kitchen now. At first, Arthur had thought it seemed a little too permanent – he wasn't used to staying in one place for an extended amount of time. He was used to running and hiding.
But with Cobb out of the picture, as much as he hated to say it, Arthur had to admit everything seemed a lot less dangerous. No more being chased by unknown syndicates and companies – they were breaking the law and nowadays no one seemed to notice.
"I suppose," Ariadne sighed, getting up from the chair and wandering over to the table. Arthur made sure to tuck Eames' magazine out of sight. "It's just...the beauty of the song is really lost on you guys."
"How so?" Arthur looked up, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, none of you speak French, right? And half of the song's meaning is in the lyrics." Ariadne pointed out, smiling slightly.
"...Translate it for me then." Arthur decided, reaching to the cassette player he had on the table and rewinding the tape, pressing play.
The music started before Ariadne had time to protest. They stood there for a moment whilst the music played, and then Ariadne put her hands lightly on Arthur's chest, and his hands automatically went to her waist. It was stiff, tentative for the briefest of seconds before they relaxed in to each other, swaying gently to the music. Ariadne set her head on Arthur's chest.
"No, absolutely nothing," She began softly, speaking the words and looking down as she concentrated on translating. "No, I regret nothing. Neither the good things, nor the bad. They're all the same to me."
Arthur shut his eyes, setting his chin on top of Ariadne's head as they rocked from side to side in the slightly clumsy yet comfortable embrace turned slow dance.
"No, absolutely nothing. No, I regret nothing. It's paid for, swept away, forgotten. I don't care about the past." Ariadne murmured, also shutting her eyes; it helped her concentrate. "My memories – I have burnt my memories. My sorrows, my pleasures; I don't need them anymore."
There was a pause where she stopped translating. Arthur was about to ask if something was wrong, but then she spoke again.
"It makes me think of work. Of dreaming." She mumbled against Arthur's waistcoat. "Of the Inception job."
"What part makes you think of it?" Arthur asked, his curiosity winning him over. "I have regrets. I regret not kissing you sooner."
Ariadne had to smile at that, even if he was messing up her emotional reflecting. "I don't regret any of it. Even at the times when I was scared shitless, scared of getting lost in limbo. Even though we completely changed Fischer's life, because of the tiniest little thought. Even though we lost Cobb - I'd like to think that he's happier, now. If a little bored."
"I'm glad he got home, too."
"So, yeah. I don't regret any of it. But I want to move on." She looked up at him; he looked pensive, staring in to space and seeing things that weren't there. The music was still playing in the background, and she decided to translate the last verse for him, even if he wasn't listening. "No, absolutely nothing. No, I regret nothing. For my life, for my joys, today they start with you."
In the first draft I wrote of this, Cobb was lost in limbo. I was kind and brought him back - was that a mistake? :}