Arthur speaks to Sofia at the funeral.
He tells her she is beautiful,
That he loves her,
And that she is everything that he has wanted.
He tells her that he is leaving,
Leaving for Paris.
Leaving for the Eiffel Tower, bad coffee,
And French hospitality.
Only for work,
He promises.
She knows that he is lying.
She knows that he is lying because
She loves him.
And she sees the grief that wrenches its way
throughout him even as he hunches over the coffin.
I love you, Arthur.
She wants to reach out and kiss him,
but knows that she could no longer have
His lips on hers.
Arthur decides that he must get drunk.
He takes three shots at a local bar,
Decides it isn't enough, and
takes another five.
For once his tolerance to alcohol is not a comfort.
He fucks a barmaid
In a bathroom stall,
where he still can barely breathe
and the event from the day is now getting hazy.
He would have stayed the night,
collapsed over a table,
but Cobb finds him and
drags him out cursing and swearing.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
Cobb wakes him up with a glass of cold water.
He splutters,
wipes his face,
and recalls the almost-forgotten
ache of a hangover.
He shakes his head,
stumbles for the bathroom.
Cobb would understand,
His logical side argues.
But I don't want his sympathy.
and it is left at that.
He's sober again.
He hates it,
and is waiting
for Cobb to leave just so that
he can get back to his vodka.
I've got to get back to the kids.
Arthur nods his head.
My flight leaves tonight.
Please take care of yourself.
He attempts a smile.
A pat on the back is granted,
and a firm handshake.
Cobb pulls him into a hug.
He is surprised,
but returns the gesture.
Cobb breaks apart,
And before the door closes,
his blue eyes darken.
Did you let Ariadne leave as easily?
Ariadne hates him.
He's always been a statue.
A puppet of no emotion.
You didn't look like this when you screamed my name.
She wants to hurt him,
hurt him like he hurt her.
He doesn't even flinch.
I'm leaving Arthur.
he looks politely down at his coffee.
I never asked you to leave.
She grits her teeth.
I don't want to be your second-best.
He looks up at her for the first time,
His beautiful brown eyes cloudy.
You aren't a second-best.
Don't screw with me, Arthur.
She gets up to leave.
You know you don't love him.
He stares at her right in the eye.
Saying the one thing that she has feared.
But he loves me, Arthur.
And that's something you'll never be able to do.
Arthur finds himself at her tomb,
traces his fingers over her name,
and sets down white roses.
Your favourite kind.
He rests his head against
the cold stone,
beats his closed fists against it.
Why, why her?
Why?
Eames notices that she is distracted.
Her usually alert eyes,
wandering and uneasy.
Something wrong, love?I'm fine.
He knows she is lying.
He knows because he loves her.
He knows that she doesn't love him back,
But God forbid she ever stay in Paris
to pine for that idiot in the three-piece suits.
I love you.
He kisses her on the cheek.
She smiles weakly.
Thank you.
She has never said "I love you" back.
It is two in the morning,
and he is still at the grave.
She watches him silently.
Oh, Arthur.
She watches him cry.
All her life, she had never seen him cry.
Now she does.
And for what?
For a girl that was so imperfect,
So completely unworthy
Of his good looks and gentlemanly mannerisms.
You are the only one I loved.
He speaks against the cold stone.
We never made sense, everyone hated us together.
Her throat runs dry.
No words can escape.
We were a whole. I was a half. You were the other.
Her shoulders heave.
She cries with him.
Do you remember that night? When I told you I loved you? I never said that to anyone else, and I thought I would cry when you said it back.
The world is cruel, she thinks.
And she closes her eyes because she can no longer watch.
They sit in the airport,
Ariadne's navy scarf the only point of contact.
There's a brilliant company that wants to employ you.
He tries to break the silence,
laces his hands in hers.
I'm excited.
She sounds everything but.
Do you want to –-
He stops when he sees her tears.
They're staining her beautiful face,
and she is making no attempt to brush them away.
I'm sorry, Eames.
She turns to him,
Buries her face in his neck.
But I can't go with you.
Ariadne brings flowers.
She supposes it is only suitable.
White roses, the kind he always loved.
She finds him asleep on the ground,
His white collared shirt stained,
His eyes red.
She places the bouquet down.
Arthur.
He awakes quickly.
Ariadne? I thought you left.
I couldn't leave you here like this.
And she hugs him,
Feels his tall frame collapse in her arms.
You're still my best friend.
Best friends don't leave on each other.
What about Eames?
Arthur pulls away for one second,
Ever so sensitive.
He'll understand.
There is a silence,
Where they stand, arms linked,
And just watch the roses,
Watch their petals blow in the wind.
She was an amazing girl.
She doesn't want to deny the obvious.
She was perfect for you.
She's gone now.
His voice breaks.
That doesn't make her a different person.
Ariadne bends over the stone plate,
and then kneels.
"Sofia, if you're out there, I promise I'll take care of Arthur. He loves you more than anything. Just so that you know that."
And then she stands up again,
laces her fingers in his,
and they turn away slowly.
Sofia watches.
She knows that Ariadne will love him as she did.
She knows that it will be good for him.
She loves him enough to let him go.
Take care of yourself.
And then she leaves.