The restlessness of the waiting room was almost tangible. She sat, fidgeting with her cardigan. Waiting. Waiting. Ariadne watched people move up to the front desk where a bored receptionist was presumably playing solitaire. Ariadne watched doctors come out of operating rooms with news, good or bad. There had been one family she saw the operator greet with a grim face, and she observed the group's loss of control at the terrible news. But there'd been more tears of joy that day that there'd been of despair. Ariadne had been sitting in this uncomfortable blue chair since nine that morning (watching other people receive news) and as it was now five in the evening, she was beginning to feel the effects of prolonged sitting.
She'd arrived before Cobb had even gone in. Even before he'd come out of the ICU. He actually went into the operating room at eleven, but she'd been with him for hours before that, even if he wasn't aware of it.
Arthur, Eames and Yusuf had shown up at three thirty, to see Ariadne curled up in a chair, almost invisible.
"He's been in for too long." She muttered over her knees in response to their unasked question.
"What time is it?" Inquired Yusuf, checking his wrist for a watch that was non-existent.
"Thee thirty," Eames said with a forced calm. "Anyway. It's only a half hour over. There's not a problem."
"No one's come out of that operating room all day." Ariadne said, closing her eyes.
The three men took seats on either side of Ariadne, sheltering her from the oppressive smell of hospital.
"Get some sleep." Arthur murmured into my ear. "You've been awake for too long since Wednesday."
She huffed, but with the quiet murmur of impatient friends, she drifted to sleep.
"Cobb, it's not your job to do anything for me, I can handle myself!" Ariadne said, turning to face him in the car. Rain streaked down the windshield.
"Well obviously that's not the case, Ariadne! That guy back there certainly didn't seem to think that you were in control, from the way he was groping you." Cobb responded, raising his voice.
"Well what if I wanted him to?" She was almost yelling now.
Cobb gripped the steering wheel tight, turning his knuckles white. "What are you, twelve?" He smirked, juvenilely.
"I'm fucking twenty five years old, Cobb!" Her voice was shrill. "That's only ten goddamn years younger than you."
"Hey, speaking of fucking, how good do think that grease ball back there would've been?" Cobb asked, sneering and cocking his head to the side sarcastically.
"Oh, you know what, Cobb? Fuck you. Let me out of this stupid car." She exclaimed, rattling the door handle.
"You are not getting put, Ariadne! It's just empty road." He locked her door.
She unlocked it again and opened it, as the car was still moving. Cobb instinctively slowed down, and Ariadne made her move, she hopped out onto the shoulder of the road.
Cobb pulled the car over and got out himself.
"Can we just talk about this?" He yelled over the rain.
"No! Can I just stand here a while?"
"Ariadne, get back in the car. You'll catch a-" His words were cut short by a screeching crash and a whirling of tires and twisting lights.
I opened my eyes to the blinding white of the hospital waiting room. Arthur was leaning worriedly over me.
"Are you alright?" He asked, concerned.
"It was my fault, Arthur!" I wailed. People turned to look at us.
"What was your fault?" He wondered, concern lacing his voice.
"That night, we were having an argument in the car. And- and," I hiccupped "And I got so mad, that I got out onto the side of the road. And he pulled over too and he was trying to get me to come back to the car, and then he got hit." I was slurring my words and when Arthur tried to hug me, I just sank deeper into the blue fabric.
"Oh, Ariadne, that wasn't your fault. It was that drunken bastard's fault." Arthur told me with sad eyes.
I was spared answering by the arrival of Miles, accompanied by James and Philippa.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his children, not now. (However adorable and sweet they might be.) Not when the question of Cobb living or dying still hung in the air. Not when I most probably killed him.
"Ariadne-" Philippa was cut off by Arthur.
"She's asleep, Philippa. Ariadne didn't sleep last night and she needs some before she sees your daddy." Arthur told her quietly. I was internally thanking him for covering me.
"Okay." She whispered, and I could tell that she was somewhat reassured by her father's implied safety.
I didn't sleep again, but I kept my eyes closed. I was jolted out of my comfortable position by a quiet voice from somewhere to my left calling,
"Dominick Cobb?" I jumped up, along with everyone else and hurried over to the small woman, with a mask hanging around her neck.
"Is he alright?" I asked, hysteria around the edges of my voice. Eames gripped my elbow.
"In any operation of this magnitude, there would of course be some complications, and Mr. Cobb is no exception. His collapsed lung will be fine, and his legs will heal. It will be a long road, but he'll recover."
She finished with a small, weary smile.
I hugged her, before asking "When can we see him?"
"Now, if you want. He's slightly delirious, though." I turned to Miles who was holding Philippa and James in his arms. Their beaming faces matched mine.
Miles, without hesitation pushed open the door, still holding the children. I noticed that Arthur, Eames and Yusuf hung back, and I tried to join them.
"No, Ariadne. You go in too." Arthur pushed me forward slightly.
Cobb's eyes were fluttering a little and he was smiling as James and Philippa held onto his hands, their eyes wide. The two kids were talking all at once, and I could see Cobb trying to keep up, and failing.
Miles noticed me, standing awkwardly inside the closed door. He smiled weakly.
"James, Philippa, we have to go now. Daddy needs to talk to Ariadne."
"Bye, daddy! We'll see you soon." Philippa chirped as she and her brother were led away by Miles.
I heard the door close, and knew I was alone with the man I'd almost killed.
"It's you." He observed, smiling slightly.
"It is me." I answered, walking over to his side.
He took my hand. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for saying those things to you." I could tell he was trying to string a sentence together properly.
"No, I'm sorry, Cobb. You were just looking out for me. And it's my fault you got hit." My words ended in a strangled sob.
"It's not your fault, Ariadne." Even through the haze of drugs, he was firm. His eyes started to close. "Call me Dom." He was asleep.
I squeezed his hand. "Okay." I whispered, and he smiled slightly.