Title: Shoot Me Awake
Word count: ~6,800. I REGRET NOTHING
Series: Inception
Genre: Not sure. Never was good at stereotyping my work.
Spoilers: None I can think of. It's set in the middle of Inception after all the players are assembled but before Ariadne has the hang of dying to wake up from a dream. Everything's pretty ambiguous but you should know about Mal.
Pairing: Not mean to be any. Can be read as VERY LIGHT Arthur/Eames or VERY LIGHT Arthur/Ariadne. You really really have to squint for either of these, though, so in the name of preserving your eyesight, don't.
Warning: Leans towards mentions of addiction. Might be a little close to home for some. Without wanting to spoil anything, addiction and mentions of suicide.
A/N: What I did instead of studying for a final exam. I cranked this shit out in under three hours, bitches.
Shoot Me Awake
Ariadne wakes with a violent start, shuddering and sick. She rolls onto her side and brings up breakfast and parts of lunch. She's dizzy and nauseous. She breathes unevenly and that's okay because she was just shot in the head. But that was in a dream and now, she reminds herself fiercely, now they are back in reality. Awake. There is a distinct clicking noise and she looks up through thick brown locks to see someone moving with military efficiency. Arthur. She's shaking and shuddering and a complete wreck. Arthur is on his feet, needle in the trashcan, wrapping up the wire, eyes moving everywhere to check for the next person to wake up and out of the dream, and she can't understand how he's able to function. Ariadne tries to sit up and another wave of nausea rocks her into the reclined chair. She throws up again as Eames throws his legs over the side of his chair to sit up.
"Ah! My sentiments exactly." Then he realizes who is dribbling vomit on his loafers and sarcasm turns into concern. "Ariadne! Are you-"
"I'm f-I'm f-" he moves his shoes as another thin stream jets out her mouth, "f-fine."
"Oh, no you're not, and neither are my shoes," Eames says cheerfully as he slips out of them and finds a trash can and Ariadne can't fathom how he's up and moving around already because her entire center is cold and clenching. She feels like she'll be sick for days.
By the time the mark is awake they're gone, but the smell of Ariadne's sick after being shot in the head lingers.
In the car, Ariadne groans and Eames rubs her back.
"Just a little longer," he promises.
"How," Ariadne asks through long shuddering breaths, "can he do that?"
Eames' eyebrows furrow in question.
"How can you just get up after dying, after someone shoots you point-blank?"
"Ah," and Eames' admission isn't nearly as light-hearted as he means it to come out, "practice."
"You practiced," Ariadne begins, but a wheeze cuts off the rest of her question and Eames shakes his head quickly at the misunderstanding.
"No, no, we've had practice. We are practiced." He holds her steady as Cobb takes a hard right. "We didn't practice getting shot in the head. Everyone starts off a little sick in the beginning, it's nothing to worry about." Ariadne looks up at him in disbelief. Eames shakes his head.
"It'll go away with time."
Ariadne shudders and breathes.
It's late when Yusuf is joined by Ariadne in the warehouse. Cobb is under already, dreaming. Eames and Arthur are tucked away in hotel rooms for the night. Ariadne brings a trash bin and a glass of water to the unoccupied chair beside Cobb.
"Thanks for doing this," she says. Yusuf nods.
"Remember," he warns as she lies down on the lawn chair, "you shouldn't push yourself. This is extremely unorthodox, what you're doing, and there haven't been many cases to provide data, so I can't give you much advice."
Ariadne lies back and tries to relax. "I'll go under and do it and we'll see if I can handle one time."
Yusuf sighs but hands her the needle.
"If you vomit again you're not doing it more than once tonight."
"I want to get over it," she insists, taking the IV and sinking the point of the needle beneath her skin. She breaths in and her eyelids flutter shut.
Yusuf watches her for a moment before his eyes flicker back down to the pages of his novel. He gets half a paragraph into the same page before Ariadne starts awake.
She shudders and throws herself over the trash bin.
"This was a bad idea," Yusuf says as he helps clean the spit and vomit out of Ariadne's hair, "You shouldn't try again."
Ariadne shakes her head. "Have you seen Arthur and Cobb?" she asks as she combs through her locks and pulls a hair tie off of her wrist, "The way they move after they wake up? It's like they were never asleep at all. It's like they were just sitting with their eyes shut and then they're up and going."
"They've been doing this for years, Ariadne," Yusuf reasons.
"They're called the best," she says determinedly, "I'm on a team with them. If they think I'm the best, too, then I can't get sick every time I get shot awake."
Her hair is pulled back and she's pale but her eyes are bright as she extends a hand. Yusuf shakes his head.
"Not again. Not tonight."
"One more time," she insists, gaze hard, "One more time, whether I puke or not, and that's it."
"Ariadne."
"One more time."
Yusuf sighs.
"One more time," he agrees, "That's all for tonight."
Ariadne's grip on the needle is steady and firm. She takes a sip of clear water before she lies back again and the world tumbles into darkness one more time.
The weight of his gun is comforting as he rounds the corner of the shady streets outside the warehouse. It's a comfort because it's a safety. Here, in the real world, where they can actually die and not wake up, the weight of the gun is an incredible comfort. Arthur knows he also has agility and excellent dodging skills on his side but the gun is a welcome weight. He's a little late coming back because there was an accident by the hotel and the police were thicker than usual. Arthur is professional. He doesn't take chances. So he texts Cobb and Cobb texts back 'It's okay, come when you can' and Arthur knows that it isn't time to make their next move so he relaxes with a cup of coffee in the dingy hotel room until the police thin.
He is late in coming so he is the only one to hear the distinct gasp of breath Ariadne makes as she starts awake.
Arthur doesn't call out. He puts one hand on the comfort of the extra weight against his side as he rounds each corner. There is a gentle sound, the pattern of heavy breathing, and then a resolute swallow, and silence again. Arthur's brow furrows and he pulls out comfort.
All he finds around the corner is Ariadne and a PASIV. She's breathing and dreaming so Arthur leaves her for a moment to make sure she's alone. Once he's sure he returns his gun to the holster and goes to stand next to his teammate. The girl is reclined on a chair and her hair is tied back. There's a trashcan next to her and a half-empty glass of water but little else. A piece of paper with two marks on it in pencil. Arthur doesn't want to startle her by looming over her when she wakes so he slips out of the room to occupy himself.
He isn't far when she starts awake, half-gasping. Arthur stays out of sight for a moment as she shakes off sleep and sits up to hold her head. She isn't puking and Arthur sees her pick up the pencil from the table, make another mark on the paper, and lay back again.
Then she gathers herself, breaths in deep, and slips the needle back under her skin.
Arthur's brows draw together again. She just went under. If he could rely on clues, Ariadne had already been under two times, but what for? He waited.
It wasn't long before she came awake again. She came alive with a gust of breath, a shudder, and rolled over onto her side and gripped the edges of the trash bin.
Arthur took a step forward and stopped himself. Something was strange.
Ariadne held herself up over the bin but didn't vomit. She breathed, shook her head, breathed slowly and reached up for the pencil. Now Arthur moved.
"Having trouble?"
Ariadne looked up from the piece of paper. "Arthur," she said, sitting back, "I didn't think anyone else was here. What happened earlier?"
"Cops," Arthur said, coming to her side as she turned the piece of paper over on the desk. He understood the silent request and didn't ask. "There was a motorcycle accident. Two cars flipped outside my hotel. I laid low for the day."
"Oh," Ariadne offers, "Okay."
She swings her legs over the side of her chair. "Are you going to stay?" She's doing her best not to look like whether she stays or goes depends on Arthur's answer and she's doing a fairly shit job of it. Arthur remembers that he spent the day going through the files he'd had on hand and the list of projects he wanted to finish after finding a frustratingly short supply of work at the hotel, and after another moment of looking at the paper turned over on the desk, Arthur decides the work will keep another night.
"I was just coming back to check that everyone was gone for the night."
Ariadne gets up and packs away the PASIV. "Do you mind walking me to my hotel? It's rather dark out now."
"Of course."
Arthur doesn't ask anything when Ariadne tucks the paper into her back pocket but he doesn't need to. Ariadne doesn't try again for four days.
Cobb is watching with a guarded amusement as the Forger ducks behind his table top because it's funny the way Eames baits Arthur and it's funny the way Arthur snaps back because it's Arthur and it's just too damn amusing.
"It wasn't even my fault," Eames points out through his grin, "It was your pencil."
He ducks again as a pen is launched expertly at the space his forehead used to occupy.
"Personal space," Arthur says frostily. "You have your own. Stop occupying mine."
Eames waves the pen from under the table like a white flag.
Arthur turns on Cobb because he's laughing, dammit, there's nothing funny about the way Eames had snuck up on him while he was engrossed with his work, there fucking isn't, but he's laughing and Arthur hates him momentarily for it.
"Oh."
Ariadne's voice is subdued, quiet, but it's been the first time that morning they've heard her say anything so they all look up when she says it. Cobb's laughter catches in his throat at the sight. Ariadne is standing in front of two white boards, plans for a fortress and a ballroom slowly blushing with red as blood wells from a sliver two inches long along the inside of her palm. She draws her hand back from the board with a dazed expression as Eames crosses the room with a towel.
"Easy," he presses the towel to her hand and she sets the razor down on the counter top with a sigh, "There. Hold it tight. What happened?"
"I was opening it," Ariadne gestures to the blade on the table, dripping red, "and. It slipped in my hands."
She breathes in deep.
"Fuck, that stings."
Cobb comes over to examine her hand as Eames cleans the blood off her plans, 'Look, they're not that bad, I can still make out most of this,' and suggests she take a break while they try to stop the bleeding. Ariadne nods, grateful, and sits. "Everything okay?" Cobb asks after a while. Ariadne sighs.
"I haven't been sleeping well lately."
On the other side of the room, Arthur says nothing, worrying only slightly, silently, to himself.
Three days later Arthur is done worrying and is doing something. He almost regrets dialing the moment Eames picks up on the other end of the line. But he doesn't want to drag in Cobb or Yusuf until he's sure because he doesn't want Ariadne to feel cornered by two bricks of logic, and someone has to talk to Ariadne with him.
"Eames."
"Arthur!" the Forger's voice is too loud and delighted over the line. The Point man fights the urge to roll his eyes.
"I need you to meet me at the warehouse tonight."
"Oh?" There's intrigue and genuine interest in the other man's tone. "Why, Arthur, how bold of you." And a little too much amusement.
"Eames, this is important."
"I'll mark it on my calendar," Eames promises over the line. Arthur doesn't grind his teeth in aggravation.
"Eames."
"There's no reason to be embarrassed, darling," Eames assures him, "It's a noble gesture, of course I'll come."
Arthur doesn't bother trying to dissuade Eames out of the wrong conclusions he's drawing at the moment. "Just come."
"What time?"
Arthur can hear Eames' smile.
"An hour after Cobb leaves."
"No need to be so formal about it," Eames chirps and hangs up. Arthur spends an hour not rolling his eyes or grinding his teeth or shaking his head and not being frustrated at the idiocy of the man he's being forced to work with.
Eames meets him, of course.
"What? No flowers?" He does his best to sound properly scandalized but the smirk doesn't quite fit his picture of sincerity.
"Mr. Eames," Arthur starts, and then stops, because Ariadne's gasp is loud enough that they both hear it from the entrance.
Eames is suddenly all business and follows Arthur silently through the warehouse. He tries not to worry needlessly because Arthur hasn't pulled his Glock yet but that was definitely Ariadne and that definitely was not an 'Oh god that's good' gasp. He tries not to worry but he can't help a little tendril of uncertainty creep around his stomach as they come to the back of the warehouse. It's deserted except for them and Ariadne, he can already tell from the sounds in the warehouse, and he keeps close to Arthur, for once not to get a rise out of the other man.
They're at the edge of a door when Arthur stops walking.
"Arthur."
The Point man gestures out the door frame. Eames moves so he can see Ariadne hooked up to the PASIV and raises an eyebrow.
"You called me to watch Ariadne put herself under?"
Arthur doesn't have to gesture again as the Architect comes out of a dream not two minutes since her last dream, coming awake with a start and a little gasp, and leaning over the edge of her chair. Arthur and Eames watch, silent and still, as she shudders, shakes off the tremble with a strange resolution, drinks water, and goes back under. Arthur watches Eames' expression slowly grow somber as Ariadne twists and comes back awake within the minute and reaches up with a shaking hand for the pencil on the tabletop to her side.
Arthur surprises himself when Eames goes to stop Ariadne by stopping him. Eames casts a look his way.
"Wait until she's under," he says. Eames doesn't crack a joke and for some reason that makes the set lines in Arthur's face a bit tighter. They wait until Ariadne has slipped the needle back under her skin before the pull up chairs on either side of her and take lines for themselves.
When they tumble into the dreamscape they have enough time to get their bearings of what's up and what's down and see Ariadne cock the gun before the world rocks with the ricochet of the bullet that will make her gasp back into the world of the waking.
When Ariadne opens her eyes she realizes that the glimpse of her teammates just before she'd pulled the trigger weren't just her projections. Arthur is holding the list she left by the table side and Eames is pulling out her IV with too much tenderness and shutting the PASIV case. She sits up slowly, aware that she's been caught red-handed, but neither man makes a move to accuse her of anything. Instead Arthur is busy taking his time running over the list and on her other side Eames has set the case down and is looking at her.
"Ariadne," Eames says sadly.
There's rebellion in the Architect's eyes. "I've got it under control," she insists.
"How often are you doing this to yourself?"
"It's under control." She is adamant.
Arthur passes Eames the piece of paper. He reaches across Ariadne to do it, deliberately passing right in front of her face. Ariadne doesn't grab for it, that would confirm that things are out of hand, but her eyes follow the sheet of paper carefully. There's silence for a while as Eames looks at the list and Ariadne looks at Eames and Arthur looks at nothing.
"No more," Eames says finally.
Ariadne looks hurt.
"It isn't that bad anymore-"
"Don't look at us," Eames says, and Arthur is quick to look confused, but Eames is speaking directly to her, "We are practiced. I told you that. We have had years of waking up sick. It isn't something you can train yourself out of."
It's Arthur's turn to look sad as realization swells in his chest.
"Ariadne."
"I'm tired of people saying my name like that," she mutters, but the fight is leaving her.
"Eames is right," he says as he leans in over the side of the chair, "you can't do this to yourself. It's not something you can train away."
"I don't want to be useless."
It's barely a whisper but it comes out with enough weight that Arthur pauses a while before speaking again.
"Being sick because you've just been killed isn't being useless, Ariadne. It's normal."
"I still get sick sometimes," Eames admits, "No one likes dying, even if it's just a dream."
Ariadne's breathing and the brightness in her eyes is telling of the tears she's trying to avoid.
Arthur looks at Eames and Eames stands.
"Let's go out for a bit." He takes Ariadne's hand and Arthur is frowning as she lets Eames help her to her feet. Eames catches the look from the other man's face that clearly says this wasn't the kind of help he was looking for but Eames is certain. There is a soft, sad sparkle in his eyes. "We'll dance," he says as he leads Ariadne away from the dim back light of the warehouse with her hand still against his palm, "until we're sick. And then we'll dance some more."
The look on Ariadne's face is enough for Arthur to stay through the evening.
Even when he's helping Eames find the right key because he's too drunk to tell keys from bottle caps and Ariadne is almost asleep on his shoulder he figures he doesn't really regret calling.
It has been six days and Arthur has seen Ariadne sleep without the PASIV for four days. Eames has seen her sleep three without it because she woke up after Arthur had dozed off and hooked herself up just before Eames came back from overtime at the warehouse. So when Arthur finds Ariadne asleep on her floor plans, really, actually asleep, no PASIV in sight, he lets her alone. Cobb comes in to tell him that Yusuf and Eames are leaving with him for a coffee run and to stretch their legs. Arthur waves him off and works for an hour. He's working at a steady pace into his second hour when Ariadne stirs on the opposite side of the room.
Arthur glances up momentarily and half-smiles as he leans back in the chair. "Had a good nap?"
"Mmm," is the Architect's response, as she rubs at her eyes. "Arthur?"
"You dozed off," Arthur confirms from the other side of the room, returning to his paperwork.
Arthur isn't someone who relies on his gut. He is the Point Man. He relies on instinct in several rare occasions when time doesn't allow for critical calculations, but for the most part, Arthur relies on facts. He relies on knowledge, on plans, on good solid research. He trusts numbers, he trusts the figures and the framework, he trusts rational thought and logic. He also lets himself, occasionally, rely on what he knows about people from their shared working experiences. Arthur knows Ariadne.
And so he also knows that when she picks up something solid off the table that something is wrong.
Arthur doesn't rely on feelings often, but, just this once, he stops his work, pausing on the fifth letter in 'directions', and glances behind him.
"Ariadne?"
She hasn't picked up her pencil.
"It's a nice surprise," Ariadne says with a small smile.
Arthur is breathing slowly. Evenly.
"Ariadne."
He is barely breathing.
She hasn't picked up her sketches.
"I didn't expect I'd see any of you down here."
They don't leave their firearms around anywhere; they're not careless, and he will remind Yusuf about keeping his weapons on him at all times but right now Ariadne is cocking it like she's been taught because they HAD to teach her how to operate a gun, you can't not know how to in this line of business, and Arthur will have WORDS with Yusuf, he will have many and they will not be nice, but he will have them later because Ariadne is smiling as she does it, gun with the safety off, lifts it deftly in both hands-
"Ariadne, where's your totem?"
The Architect pauses. Arthur knows he's bought himself a few moments; the projections of themselves won't know about their totems, or rather they will but they won't be as direct as another person in the dream space. Ariadne is a smart girl, she'll figure it out.
"You're not supposed to know about-" Her eyes narrow momentarily in thought, and then, "Arthur, is that you?"
She lowers the gun and smiles. Arthur stands, doing his best not to leap at her, doing his best to be slow but casual about it. He has been trained not to give off any emotions when necessary. He is a point man, and he is the best in the whole damn business. But it's hard to remember any of that as Ariadne swings the loaded firearm halfway up in greeting.
"I didn't think anyone else was hooked up. You really should ask before diving into other people's dreams." She is smiling teasingly and Arthur is calm, dammit, he is calm and breathing properly and Ariadne is still holding the gun far too close to her head. He is calm and he leans back on the desk to convince himself as well as her.
"And next time I will," Arthur assures her, hands resting in his pockets, "Promise. May I have my gun back now?"
Ariadne nods.
"You can," Arthur's eyes widen as she puts it to her temple, "after I'm gone."
Click.
"Ariadne."
The way her name sticks in his throat makes her pause.
"What?" She lowers the gun to just under her chin. "I'll be gone in a second-"
"Ariadne," Arthur says, not moving at all, "Amuse me, before you do. Double check."
Beautiful eyes narrow and brows furrow. "Double check?"
Arthur's hand turns in his pocket.
"Like I said." The weight of the die in his palm makes his stomach twist as she holds the gun below her clavicle, far too close to her heart and her throat. "Amuse me."
Ariadne blinks at him, shrugs, and puts her unoccupied hand in her pocket.
Arthur focuses on breathing.
The silence stretches. Ariadne's grip on the gun turns to iron as her fingers brush up against something in her pocket. Arthur can see it click in her eyes and the way her entire body stops.
He tries to calculate the chances she would shoot him if he tried to rush her for the gun.
"Oh my god."
He doesn't have to.
"Oh my god."
Her hands tremble as she lower the gun, points it at the ground, points it away. Away from her, away from Arthur, and Arthur can move.
"Ariadne," he says gently, pulling his hands out of his pockets.
Ariadne takes a sharp swallow of air.
"Oh my god."
"Shh," Arthur's hands are cool and gentle around her hands, smooth and firm. "It's okay."
The gun is shaking and so is she.
Arthur's hands are steady. He stands at her side and brings both hands palm-up under hers and Ariadne's grip on the gun falls loose.
And then it IS okay, because even if Ariadne is shaking like a leaf, Arthur is steady, and the gun drops completely into waiting palms.
"My... I'm... I'm awake." Her eyes are stretched wide with terror. She's awake. She's awake, and if Arthur hadn't said anything, if Arthur hadn't turned around...
Ariadne swallows air like she's been drowned.
She's awake.
"I was, I was going, I was going to-"
Ariadne's eyes are bright and wide. She's gasping out her words and the complete terror of her near suicide is making her knees wobble.
"I'm going to be sick," she announces in a tight whisper, and Arthur lets her fall back into her chair, he'll bring her a trash can, just sit and breathe. He leaves with the gun, she does as he suggests. He gets back in time to land the bucket under the contents of her stomach as they rush out. The gun is gone.
Ariadne coughs and vomits again. Arthur puts a hand on her back and steadies her, pulls her long brown locks back, whispers and says nothing at all. Ariadne is shaking hard and she's crying but mostly she is scared out of her mind.
She has every right to be, Arthur thinks as he holds her back, thinking briefly of Cobb and Mal. She essentially attempted-
The door opens and Ariadne can't hold back another stream of leftovers as Cobb and Eames and Yusuf step into the warehouse. "Ariadne?" Someone calls out in surprise and Arthur snaps upright at the sight of them all. Cobb's eyebrows draw together immediately, Eames wears his shock like he wears his gaudy salmon pink shirt, Yusuf might've been the one that shouted because he's shouting again. "What happened?"
And Yusuf is jogging over to them and Eames sees it in Arthur's eyes because suddenly they're hard with fury but starts off a little too late to prevent the Point man from answering Yusuf's questions about what's happened with a deft right cross.
Yusuf hits the floor before Eames gets there. Cobb is at Ariadne's side when Eames grabs under Arthur's arms from behind and hoists him bodily off the floor and away from where Yusuf is wiping blood off of his face with one sleeve. "Whoa, whoa! Arthur," Eames shouts over Yusuf's cry of pain and Arthur's demands to be let loose. The Point man gives a violent lurch to get free and Eames is privately impressed that he has to hold on with most of his strength to retain a good grip on Arthur. He's privately impressed, but he's also rather worried about the man's violent reaction to their sudden appearance in the warehouse. The Forger has little time to muse on that train of thought as Arthur surges again.
"Arthur!"
Cobb looks up from where he's pulling back Ariadne's hair and sees Eames struggling to keep a hold on Arthur. Yusuf has got up and is scrambling away from the two of them but Arthur has a look in his eyes. Cobb briefly slips a hand into his own pocket.
"Jesus Christ," he hisses and then, because he's busy helping Ariadne breathe around the vomit, "Eames!"
Arthur is lean and trim and quite capable but Eames is half Arthur's body weight in upper arm strength alone. Eames bunches his muscles and pulls Arthur against him with all of his strength. Arthur isn't expecting such a full show of force and the breath is forced out of him in a surprised pained gasp. Eames holds him, arms tight as steel bands, for an instant before he feels the fight leave the smaller man.
"Eames" Arthur rasps with the last of his air, and Eames knows it's for air rather than to be let go, and relaxes his grip enough that Arthur can fill his lungs without letting the Point man free from his grip.
Cobb has finished tying Ariadne's hair back with one of her ties (having a daughter has brought new and useful skills) and Yusuf is pinching the bridge of his nose to stop the blood. He's also on the other side of the room. Cobb's cold blue eyes find Arthur and Eames murmurs into the back of his neck, "If you're going to try and lay out Cobb, too, I'm not letting go." Arthur leans away from where the warm warnings are gusting along the back of his neck and presses against the flesh cage of Eames' arms. Eames' grip doesn't loosen. "Can I let you go, love?"
"Let go, Eames."
Eames lets go.
The air is thick with tension. It swirls lazily over everything. Everyone takes a moment to breathe. Cobb is clearly trying to figure out what happened before he begins admonishing anybody. Ariadne is getting over the shakes and has regained the ability to sit up on her own. She's looking significantly less pale than when they came in but still unsettled. Yusuf isn't bleeding much now and can almost take his hand away from his face. Arthur is still trying to remind his lungs that it's okay to expand and fill with air after Eames' thick arms quite convinced them otherwise. Eames is standing by, unusually quiet, calm. The only sound in the whole warehouse is breathing, because everyone's doing it.
"Arthur," Cobb starts, but Arthur reaches over to the counter where he left Yusuf's gun and grabs it.
For a brief, horrible moment, there's ice in Cobb's veins as Arthur turns around with the gun-
-and lands it, safety undone, deprived of bullets, sideways into Yusuf's heaving chest.
The tension is tangible as Arthur stares the Chemist down hard.
"Don't leave it out anymore," he says, steel in his tone and in his eyes.
Yusuf nods but Arthur is still pressing the gun into his chest and boring into him with a painfully hard gaze.
"Don't leave it out, loaded, ever again."
"Alright! Alright!" Yusuf says, offended, "You're acting like I shot someone."
Arthur can't stop himself and he's looking at Ariadne and keep breathing, just keep breathing. Cobb draws a slow, long breath, filling with comprehension as he fills with air. "Ariadne." She smiles as she trembles, she's heard her name said that way so many times the way she never wants to hear it again. Arthur tears his gaze away from the Architect before Cobb can ask anything and he turns to Yusuf.
"Ever again."
Yusuf nods dumbly, looking back and forth for a moment between Arthur and Ariadne. Eames makes a soft admission, "Sweet fucking Jesus," because he's quick to flirt and quicker to pick up on body language, and Ariadne has gone back to breathing unevenly. Yusuf looks at the gun, looks at Ariadne, and says "Oh," because that's all he can think to say.
Ariadne is thankful that the questions don't come at her all at once. She can't even focus on standing because her world is still hyper-tuned. Everything is so bright, everything is so loud.
Everything IS, and it almost wasn't anything at all.
Everyone is breathing differently but they're all breathing. Arthur has lost the hard edge to his gaze, now he's tight and locked up, firm, professional even, except for the very soft relief around his eyes as he inhales. Cobb has one hand over his mouth like he's trying to find the right expression to wear and doesn't want to show anything else while he searches and he's exhaling and thinking because he's the leader and he has to say something. Ariadne's breathing is leveling out, her gasps are becoming longer, fuller, more normal. Yusuf's breathing is quicker because the guilt has set in good and firm in his gut. Eames is breathing in and breathing out equally for all of them because everyone else is busy being just a little different. They're all different but they're all still breathing, and that's something, isn't it?
Eventually it's Cobb. He's the leader so he has to say something.
"Ariadne, how do you feel?"
"Considering that I almost shot myself in the real world?" She takes a few shuddering breaths. "I'm fucking fabulous."
A slight smile tugs at the hard edge of Arthur's mouth. That sounded just about right for Ariadne.
Cobb seemed to have a similar feeling and nodded. "Then why don't we all turn in for the night?" He glanced around at the others.
Arthur agrees easily, "The records will keep 'till tomorrow. We have time,"
as does Eames, "Yeah, no use in trying to get work done at this hour, anyhow,"
and Yusuf, "Everything is ready to go. Might as well."
Ariadne nods and offers to clean up the mess she's made of the trash bin. No one intervenes because they hear the determination in her voice, the 'I'm okay, don't you dare treat me like I'm delicate' as she gets to her feet, but everyone watches her discreetly from a distance until she leaves the room. Then three sets of eyes turn on Arthur. The Point man is good at judging. He waits exactly as long as it takes for Ariadne to step out of hearing and leans back against a table top strewn with city scapes with his arms crossed over his chest.
"She dozed off," he said, "and when she woke up she thought she was dreaming."
"She was going to shoot herself to wake up," Cobb says more than asks. Arthur nods. There is a far away look in the older man's eyes and he swallows thickly. It's very quiet for a moment.
"Jesus Christ," Eames mutters, then, "How close did she come?"
Arthur has to fight to keep his voice level. He is professional.
"She had the gun to her temple."
Yusuf has to sit down.
"I talked her out of it, made her double check," Arthur goes on, "She came back after she stuck her hand in her pocket. She was shaking like a leaf but after that she had the gun pointed to the ground so I could come over and take it. I unloaded it on the table, Yusuf, next to the designs for level two." Yusuf nods without speaking. "When I came back she was sick."
He stopped talking because that was the end of the story and because Ariadne's footsteps were a little harder than usual and easy to hear in the near silence of the warehouse. Cobb and Eames turned to collect the few things they kept on them. Yusuf sat staring at a table.
"Yusuf."
The Chemist looks. His eyes are slick with wet.
"I might be sick, too."
Arthur shakes his head. "Just keep it on you from now on. She'll be alright. She's tough."
Ariadne is very quiet with the door as she comes back in but somehow everyone notices. They're all ready to go by the time she has the bin back where it came from.
No one asks any more questions about her or how she's doing. Eames has some questions about the third level and sedation and Ariadne's answers are steady and sure. The sound of her replies gives strength back to Yusuf's legs as they walk out of the warehouse. By the time the door shuts the world is more or less right again.
Even if everyone notices the way Ariadne's hands are resting in her pockets even though it's warm out, no one says anything.
They're throwing the mark in the back of the van two days later.
"Here," Ariadne says, reaching to take the PASIV from Yusuf because someone has to drive. His hands freeze as he goes to pass the device but Cobb is shouting and Arthur's running out of bullets and they have to move.
"Let's not be in such a hurry," Eames chirps as Arthur curses, changing out magazines from under the cover of the rear seat, "but we don't have all day, either."
Ariadne grabs the device and Yusuf grabs the wheel.
"How long can you give us?" Cobb is asking as Ariadne opens the device and hooks up the mark.
"Twenty minutes, ten if they're local," Yusuf is saying as Eames and Arthur pocket their weapons and extend their arms for needles.
"We won't need more than ten," Cobb says as he reaches out for the last needle, "Drive carefully."
"Always do," Yusuf says as Ariadne slips the needle under her own arm, "Sweet dreams."
He hits the button and then the gas.
One layer down five minutes becomes an hour. It takes half an hour to get to the mark and put him under. Arthur is staying behind on this level to run interference.
"There's no sedative so if you get in too deep you can always get out," he reminds them as they hook themselves up to the PASIV again, "just double check."
Ariadne nods a little too fervently.
"Try not to be long," Arthur says as he presses the button.
There's no need for three levels with the mark as they find him on the second level. Cobb does his job and does it well, Eames and Ariadne watching from a distance as he distracts and extracts at the same time. There's a reason they call him the best. Eames is still between personalities when Cobb gives the signal from three flights of stairs below.
"All done," he says, "Off we go."
Ariadne thrusts her hand into her pocket and Eames slows down and puts his own hand into his pocket.
"Right," she breathes, "Off we go."
He has his free hand at his other side as the projections begin to look around. "Shall I?"
Ariadne nods.
"You better," she says softly, "I don't..."
The rest of her words catch in her throat and Eames still has his hand in his pocket when he pulls the trigger.
Arthur looks around as Cobb and the others come alive two minutes earlier than was necessary for a kick. "Too easy," Eames scoffs as he slips the needle off his arm, "Like candy from a toddler."
The Point man looks at Cobb and the older man nods. Arthur pushes a button as Ariadne's eyes flutter open and they all disappear, along with half the building.
Yusuf takes two rights and a left, putting flashing lights and sirens a block behind him, when he hears the sound of Ariadne sicking up the car floor behind him.
"Steady on," Eames' voice is saying, "Keep your head up-"
"I'm fine," Ariadne is saying, swaying with the car as Yusuf takes another left, "Really."
"And so you are," and Yusuf can hear the warm smile in Eames' voice.
"We're done, get us out of here," Cobb says has he unhooks the mark from the PASIV. Arthur is on his other side and is capping the dropper of sedative that he applied moments ago. They have twenty minutes to dump the mark before he wakes up. It only takes seven to lose the cops and eleven to lose him and then they're barreling down the road unburdened. Eames stretches out and laughs without prompt, Ariadne smiles and apologizes about the upholstery. Arthur says the upholstery has improved since they set out and Eames is laughing again. Cobb smiles as Yusuf rolls down the windows to try and get rid of the smell.
They're halfway out of the city before Eames suggest they all go out that night. Arthur's half-hearted protest crumbles beneath Ariadne's smile and Cobb's laughter and the way Yusuf jumps and jerks the wheel so they almost go off the road.
Later, when Ariadne is laughing like the world will never stop being so funny, when Yusuf is bobbing his head to a heavy bass that's really too loud to not be detrimental to someone's hearing, when Cobb is resting languidly with one arm against the bar and a glass of scotch in his hand and watching them all with cool pleased eyes, when Eames is laughing soft and warm by his ear and he's much too far into Arthur's personal space, Arthur decides he doesn't really mind.
Fin.
End A/N: My first Inception fic. I was going to torture you and drag it into chapters but that fell to shit. The idea hit and it hit hard. I hope you enjoyed my caffeine-driven 6.8k word drabble.