Chapter 1 - When there was still light
She'd never liked fancy, high-end restaurants and how they forced her to look and act impeccable. She felt uptight, stiff and mildly joyous. Or maybe that was just her dress. She couldn't just stumble in with her piles of university books and folders, wearing paint splattered jeans, old workshop shirts and a scarf. No, instead she had to wear a pretty dress. Forget the 'pretty' part, she wasn't the least bit happy about the fact that she'd have to wear some uncomfortable, frivolous, skin-showing attire that would definitely bring attention with it. As far as she could remember, the only dress she actually owned was from a high school play that required the participation of all students. It was tight at the waist, itchy from some of the sparkly, plastic gem- studded fabric, and so short that she self-consciously tugged at the hems every few seconds in a feeble attempt to pull the ends over her partially visible thighs.
She was more of a quiet, homely café kind-of girl. Her own architecture was never that small or simple, and on chatting with her you might gather that she was interested in multiple varieties of modern architecture, and thus speculate that she probably preferred it over quaint little structures. This was partially true. She undoubtedly enjoyed creating large, impossible looking buildings, and challenging the laws of physics to their extreme. However, she always felt safer amidst the smells, sounds and general atmosphere of little cafes. She loved how despite their lack of high-held noses and powder puffs, they held an air of sophistication. She loved how she could comfortably waltz in wearing her most casual clothes and not have to worry about whether ordering a hot chocolate, a muffin, and a plate of French fries would make her seem too undignified or cause her lipstick to smear all over the cup(she wouldn't be wearing the blasted thing in the first place). But most of all, she loved that these little cafes that lined the streets and which were filled with various types of people (not just the rich ones) had character. Not to say that all newer buildings were lacking in soul. However, most that she had seen were simply tall, looming and cold. The cafes though, had depth; they had histories and uniqueness. These qualities found their way into her thoughts frequently, and thus into her designs as well. They inspired her. And presently, not many things had the ability to do so, especially since studying, planning for the future, and being recruited by three team members (ex-team members, she kept telling herself) to embark on a highly dangerous and illegal, yet extremely well-paying mission were on her mind.
It had been a year since the Fischer job, and the abrupt halt to her career as a dream architect had hit Ariadne hard. One day she had been exploring shared dreaming with four team members (plus Saito) and moving through dream levels – reveling in the wonders of inception- and the next day she was thrown back into the life of an ordinary student at university. It was painful, almost, to stop dreaming that way altogether, as though she was sent to a rehabilitation center to contain a growing addiction , and it took her a long time to stop believing that Cobbs or Eames or Arthur or Yusuf or even Mal was going to appear round the corner and smile at her. She would often find herself restless and empty, as though her body and mind were aching to regain that infinite sense of creating the impossible. She craved to dream artificially, especially since her own natural dreams were now scarce and meaningless. But she had to control herself, knowing that there was guarantee that she could fulfill her desires, and so Ariadne gulped down her strangled cries into the pit of her stomach, where they continued to cause her pain, making her feel starved. Starvation was an easier problem to tackle, though, and she used her ever-flowing cash from the Fischer job to buy herself food. It helped considerably, and soon she quietened down and attended university in a monotonous, routinely fashion. Still, she hadn't fully recovered, and her totem was always with her, shrugged off in school as a symbolic representation of something dear to her, something the history of which she was part of; something that gave her strength and hope. Or in the words of her bubbly classmate, a 'lucky charm'. She let them think that.
She chuckled lightly, thinking of her green-eyed, golden-haired friend from math class. On first glance, one wouldn't think she was bright or worthy of attending such a prestigious school. Her father probably paid for her entrance. However, Julia was in fact a math prodigy who aspired to become a famous mathematician. She was quite a handful, always bubbly, bright and bouncing off the walls in excitement. The smallest things never ceased to gain her attention.
Time passed.
Part of the architect wondered whether she had just dreamt up the whole scenario involving voice recordings mysteriously received by her phone and a tip from Professor Miles that she should try the new fancy restaurant in town, precisely at 7:30pm, and to wait for a while before leaving to prevent missing a possible visit from colleagues.
She sipped some water from her glass, tugged her dress down again and checked the time on her watch. Huh, she thought, they're abnormally late.
And just as the thought crossed her mind, she heard it.
It came from behind her.
An unmistakable English accent.
Ariadne turned around sharply, excitement coursing through her veins. Although she'd forced herself to admit that she might not see the team again, she had missed them. A lot. Even Eames' and Arthur's constant bickering. The fou- three of them smiled at the receptionist as they made their way to her table. She had to constantly remind herself that Cobbs had retired in order to spend time with James and Philipa. She supposed his reasons were fair enough.
"Hello, darlin' ", Eames grinned as he slid into his cushioned seat opposite her. Arthur sat beside him and Yusuf smiled as he sat next to her.
"So, how's life been treating you? ", Eames asked cheerfully, not really waiting for an answer, and instead ordering food for them all.
"Pretty good, I guess. ", she said with a smile. "What about you guys? "
She found out over a long and delicious dinner that Eames and Yusuf hadn't taken up any dream-related jobs recently (or in Eames' case, any job at all) but that Arthur had initially been offered the job that the three men wanted to discuss with Ariadne. Halfway through dessert, the brunette remembered to ask the important question:
"What's the mission about? "
"Well- ", Arthur began, only to be cut off by Eames. "It's quite interesting, really", the forger smirked through a mouthful of cheesecake.
"Stop interrupting me! ", Arthur glared in momentary annoyance before slipping back into his passive, unreadable look of calmness.
"Come on now, Arthur. We all know I'm better at summing things up than you ever will be!
"Oh, are you? " , Arthur's voice was dangerously soft, all attempts at containing his irritation evaporating quickly into the lilac-scented air.
"Yeah! I don't mean to offend you, darlin', but it just isn't your thing. ", Eames smiled mockingly.
"I swear, Eames, call me 'darlin' ' one more time today and I'll-"
"Do what? Research my most embarrassing moments and tell the world?"
"Both of you just SHUT UP!", Yusuf half-yelled, sounding more annoyed than Ariadne had ever seen him.
"I'll tell her. Don't interrupt me. You know what happened last time.", Yusuf threatened.
Ariadne grinned. "What happened last time?"
Yusuf shrugged. "I told some people their deepest secrets. "
Ariadne didn't bother asking how the chemist chanced upon these deep secrets. She guessed it was an advantage of being quiet and reserved. No one expected you to threaten or give secrets away.
Eames scoffed. "You can't just –"
Yusuf's face turned comical and he described in vivid detail the awkward beginning to Eames' encounter with an old woman named Clara when Eames banged his fist on the table, turning pink in the face.
From that moment, there was silence at the table like she'd never experienced, only broken through by Yusuf's voice that summarized their mission.
The mission involved an extraordinarily brilliant scientist who left his life's work hidden in a secret location that no one seemed to know. Following his mysterious disappearance, one of his rivalling scientists tried to force the answers out of his family-his dad, wife, and kid- but gained no results. They understood from the deceased man's will, however, that his secret was locked away safely in what would grow to be unstable, vulnerable yet safe enough to be passed unnoticed. That this safe haven was guarded, not by trained men, but by sheer will, stubbornness and lack of regard for authority. This rivalling scientist – , was offering the team a huge sum of money to find this keeper of the secret and to extract from them the location of the work.
"Have you guys figured it out yet?", Ariadne asked, the answer clear in her mind.
"Partially.", Arthur replied. "We know that this safe is actually a mind, and since this man had no outside connection whatsoever, confirmed by his hatred of going outside and his stubborn refrainment from doing so, it's definitely a family member. It's even been guaranteed by security cameras and watchmen that no one ever went into or out of that house except for the family. The question is which person is it ?"
"You said that he had three in the family : His wife, his elderly father, and his daughter. How old is the kid?"
"She's turning 15 this Saturday."
"She's the one."
"How do you gather?", Eames asked lightly, eyes catching Arthur's and Yusuf's for a brief nanosecond.
Ariadne caught the looks. "So you all know? You're just messing with me, aren't you? To see if I'm smart enough to figure it out myself. "
None of them denied it.
"What's more unstable, vulnerable and unwilling to accept advice than a teenager.", she said more than asked, because she was aware of the accuracy her answer provided.
Her companions looked impressed. Arthur leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto its hind legs, a ghost of a smile on his face.
"That was quick, Ariadne. It took Eames a day to figure it out. "
Eames rolled his eyes and kicked Arthur's chair so the point man nearly fell over. Ariadne jumped at the sudden abundance of flailing limbs and flying cutlery before her. Thankfully, Arthur regained balance (and composure) before the chair crashed into the marble floors, only gaining a large whipped cream stain on his earlier spotless white shirt, a few unimpressed stares, and a fork in the pot of chocolate syrup. Chuckles and suppressed fits of laughter passed around the table, and nothing more was said about it. Arthur's undiminishing glare at Eames throughout the rest of their conversation and the forger's impassive behavior, however, amused the architect to no end.
A/N : So... constructive criticism is appreciated and very much welcome. Please review !
Here's some important stuff :
1. I'm kinda new to the way Fanfiction works, having joined only very recently.
2. Updates are coming soon !
3. :] ( The most important ! )
4. The following chapters will be longer and more detailed !
- Unintentional Rambler