Bishop to E7
Chapter One
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Inception, Christopher Nolan does
The cold, cylindrical barrel pressed harshly against his temple. His eyes trapped in the darkness of a cold, desolate realm of pain and despair. Crack. The gun collided cruelly across his face, causing a thick flow of viscous blood to drool from his nose.
"Please…" sneered the silhouette. "This would be much less painful if you conveniently gave me the information from your precious extraction job from Saito, instead of us dancing around in this ridiculous circle, in which I'll just have to hit you again."
He would not reply. He would not give Oskar Saveli, son and potential heir to Cobol Engineering, the satisfaction of his excruciating pain spreading slowly across his bruised face.
"One more time… what did you extract from Saito's subconscious?" Saveli whispered dangerously down his neck.
In the next second, the gun had travelled along his nose, splintering it and increasing the flow of blood, sending him into the dark depths of black unconsciousness.
She emerged with a cold sweat blanketing her, causing Ariadne to shake uncontrollably down to her bones. Vague images of a gleaming gun and a dark room flicker through her mind, a half-remembered dream haunting her.
Ariadne couldn't bear this any more. Nightmares of being tortured had continued to plague her mind ever since she began to doubt ever being contacted by the Inception team again. 10 months, 23 days and counting, she had heard not a whisper from Eames, Yusuf or Cobb, although Cobb was allowed access to his children, James and Phillipa, so that was understandable. Arthur…
"Quick, give me a kiss" He had said on the second dream level. She had kissed him, despite all the projections staring at them.
"They're still looking at us" She had said as the people surrounding them continued their glares.
"Yeah, it was worth a shot" At that moment, everything seemed to have stopped, the balance of her dream and her reality teetering on a point, threatening to fall, causing her to crumble within.
Ariadne knew she had to stop this flooding of memories from her time with Arthur on the Inception job. She vividly remembers all the times she would be working hard on a model for one of the dream levels, when she would feel the heavy weight of a gaze falling upon her, only to look up and see Arthur staring at her then abruptly look back down to his own work, redness creeping up his neck and ears.
She started from her bed, making her way throughout her Parisian apartment at 3.37am, completing the minute tasks of cleaning her room and her mind.
After her previous mission of Inception in Fischer's mind, Arthur had approached her at the airport, although all team members were supposed to refrain from conferring with each other in case the mark were to recognise them, resulting in the entire mission being brought to attention.
"If you ever feel the need to talk about anything about dreaming and the job, just call or visit at this apartment in Paris" Arthur murmured to her, swiftly giving her a piece of paper listing the address and phone number she was able to reach him by.
Ariadne decided that she would visit Arthur at the apartment; after all, she wanted to talk to him about the job… to an extent. She had been having frequent nightmares about being relentlessly tortured by Cobol Engineering. She also just wanted to see Arthur again. The smooth, sculptured lines of his face, the angular bridge of his nose as he gently massages it every time he's anxious or irritated. Ariadne wanted to become lost in those dark eyes of infinite depth, his security wrapping around her like a caress. She mentally slapped herself to focus on the pair of socks she folding in front of her to ensure she didn't tie them in a knot.
Finally, after hours of her countless indecisiveness, at 8.39am, Ariadne left for the mysterious Paris address. She reached what looked like a warehouse-like apartment building. After a short, shaky ride up the elevator, she reached his door. It was ajar.
Arthur was never one to simply leave his door open, possibly for fresh air. Ariadne's hand automatically darted into her bag for the small, silver revolver Cobb had given her for protection. Her other hand, slick with sweat, out stretched for the handle and nimbly pushed the door open to what Ariadne thought looked like the typical 'bomb site'.
The apartment was completely torn apart. Items askew, pillows disturbed and draws ripped out of their angular sockets, their contents resting in layers upon the floor.
Her mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. Somebody kidnapped Arthur. Ariadne instantly began to search the maze of rooms for Arthur or any signs of a struggle apart from the obvious trashing of the apartment.
He wasn't here. Ariadne began to panic, her heart beating in her throat. She had to do something, had to call someone. But whom the hell would she call? The police? 'Hi… um, my friend has been kidnapped from his house; probably by the people we extracted information from in their dreams'. Yes, that was likely to go down well with the police. Maybe she would go back to the original warehouse the team planned in for the Inception job. She doubted anyone would still be there; it's been over 10 months now since the job.
Hands violently shaking, Ariadne quickly left the apartment, closing the door behind her to avoid possible curious neighbours asking what had happened. Her mind began to shut down. How could something like this happen? How could Arthur, the one who was always organised and careful be taken? Ariadne didn't know how long she stood there, questioning how well she knew Arthur. It could have been seconds, minutes or even hours, she didn't know. As if something had startled her, she rushed off to find the forgotten warehouse she greatly missed.
The large, rusted door towered above her, daring her to open it and release the memories it held behind to crash over her like a tidal wave. She placed a delicate hand on the rough surface and pushed, enabling the door to swing wide and the coldness of the warehouse envelop her.
Eyes adjusting to the lack of light, she moved forward cautiously, her boots echoing against the hard concrete floor. Amazingly, the cheap deck chairs still remained; they had been thrown into an irregular circle when the team was testing Yusuf's sedatives during the last job. Their individual workspaces also still inhabited the corners of the wide spaced room. Ariadne glanced over to her desk; it covered in papers, sketches and blueprints of designs of each dream layer.
A sudden crackle, the barest rustle of pages caused Ariadne to freeze, the hairs on the back of her neck standing of their own accord. She spun round only to glimpse at the dark figure coming towards her, hands blanketing her arms. She opened her mouth to scream, it only to be forcibly covered by a gloved hand.
"Don't you bloody well start screaming, otherwise we're both in trouble." A heavily English-accented voice cursed. At that moment, Ariadne's body transformed from vigorously shaking to completely limp in the Englishman's arms.
"E-Eames?" Ariadne stuttered, before throwing her arms around him, knocking the breath out of him.
"What the bloody hell? Ariadne? What are you doing here?" Eames replied, groping in the darkness for the light switch.
Light filled the warehouse instantly, enabling Ariadne to fully see Eames, clad in dark clothing, looking extremely similar to a bank robber. A spontaneous giggle erupted from her, sending a wave of surprise to flit across Eames' face.
With the warehouse now bright with artificial light, Ariadne saw that Eames was collecting the remains of his work (whatever the hell that was) from the Inception job.
The sight of all the workspaces caused her to recall the real reason she was here.
Ariadne commenced her previous shaking with the realisation that Arthur was still missing.
Eames, observing her noticeable emotional change, immediately placed his arms around her, comforting her.
"A-Arthur's m-m-missing" Ariadne stammered, barely a whisper, thick tears placing themselves upon his jacket.
Eames was silent for a ling time, his breathing comforting her in an odd way amongst her panic.
"Where? When?" Eames finally said. She couldn't bring the words to her mouth, the sentence getting stuck in her throat.
"He g-gave me an address and phone n-number he said I could reach him by if I ever wanted to talk about the job or d-dreaming."
Eames gently led Ariadne to the old circle of outdoor furniture used for when they used the PASIV, sitting her down on a fragile lawn chair.
"When did Arthur give you this?" Eames quietly asked, careful not to startle her.
"At the airport just after the Fischer job. I know w-we weren't supposed to talk to each-"
"It's alright, darling.' He cut her off. "We'll find him."
They sat in the old deck chairs for how long, Ariadne didn't know. Suddenly, Eames stiffened under her grip.
"You need to run. Leave Paris. Hide yourself, and never return to this life."
A/N: Hello! Sorry if this is really long, or something. This is my first fic, so its taken me ages to write it. Yes, I'm that slow D: btw: if you've noticed the funny spelling, it's because I'm Australian, we're a bit odd! Hope you like it C: