Ariadne knew she had no right to be angry. It's not like Arthur had lied to her; he had just never bothered to mention he had a girlfriend. So what if Ariadne had actually thought they were heading towards... something? Clearly she had misinterpreted his intentions. What she presumed were lingering gazes exchanged during many late night conversations weren't that at all; the numerous times she had thought he would finally ask her out, and didn't, wasn't due to the fact he was shy – he just wasn't interested. She could kick herself for her arrogance.
Her gaze settled on Arthur once again, examining him, scrutinizing how she could have been so wrong about him. Looking at him now, he seemed like a completely different person. He was standing near the bar with his girlfriend, his arm encircled around her waist as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Jealousy surged through Ariadne as she watched him interact with Yvonne; there was a level of intimacy between the couple that could only stem from deep love and respect – something Ariadne had hoped to share with Arthur but clearly it wasn't in the cards for them.
Ariadne wanted to hate Yvonne; she really did. It would make things so much easier if the other woman was a bitch. Unfortunately, along with being tall, slim, and drop dead gorgeous, Yvonne appeared to be extremely nice and charming. And as much as Ariadne hated to admit this, Yvonne and Arthur really did seem to make the perfect couple. She was a professional dancer with the New York City Ballet and elegance and sophistication seemed to pour out of her every pore.
Fuck! She really wanted to hate Yvonne.
"If looks could kill, we would be short a Point Man right now."
Eames' amused drawl brought her out of her reverie. Now directing her hostile gaze at Eames, she took a sip of her beer. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He took the seat next to her, his leg languidly brushing against hers, and flashed a mischievous grin. "If it makes you feel any better, anger is a good look on you."
"Eames, shut the fuck up," she replied with as much dignity as she could muster up. "Please."
"Want to make him jealous?"
"Can I make you disappear instead?"
"That's not going to make you feel any better."
"It'll help."
"And so will this, love. You can thank me later."
Before she could figure out what he meant, Eames leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, catching her completely by surprise. Granted he was a good kisser, great even, but all she could think about was Arthur. Arthur, who she'd imagined kissing and fucking all these months. Arthur, who she'd fallen madly in love with even though she tried not to. Arthur, who was in a committed relationship for two years but hadn't mentioned anything about it until his girlfriend showed up tonight.
Yup, she fucked up. Bad.
Eames pulled away but not before dropping a soft kiss on her temple.
They both turned to look at Arthur but he wasn't even glancing in their direction – he was too busy whispering something in Yvonne's ears.
Now she felt even more pathetic. "What the hell am I doing?"
"Let's go back to my place. I'll help you figure it out."
She couldn't help but laugh at Eames' incorrigible smile. "Nice try. I don't think so."
"He's a fool."
Pursing her lips together, she shook her head 'no'. "No, he isn't. She's perfect."
"No such thing as perfection."
"Yeah well, she seems pretty damn close," Ariadne sighed. "I'm going to get a drink. You want anything?"
"No, I'm good."
Ariadne considered walking over to the bar close to where Arthur was standing but she quickly dismissed the idea. The last thing she wanted was a PDA show up close and personal. Instead she strolled out of the VIP section of the club (where she was seated) and to the bar located on the other side of the dance floor.
Few minutes later she was taking a sip of her rum and coke when she felt someone tap her shoulder from behind. Turning around, she found herself facing Arthur.
His eyes dropped to her lips for a few seconds before meeting hers again.
Fuck!
He was looking – no, staring - at her with the same intense expression that always set her pulse racing and made her throat dry; she used to think the heavy intensity of his gaze was a reflection of how he felt about her but that obviously wasn't true. It couldn't be.
"Hey."
"Hi," she replied with a stiff smile.
"Enjoying yourself?"
She shrugged her shoulders, feigning nonchalance.
"You didn't seem all that bored a few minutes ago."
The sudden tension in his voice caught her attention. She peered at him, and realized there was an angry glint in his eyes that she hadn't noticed initially. "Meaning?"
"Eames, really? You can do better."
So he had noticed. The feeling of smug satisfaction, however, lasted only a minute before it was quickly replaced with rage. Who the ihell/i did he think he was to make a comment like that?
"That's really none of your business, is it?"
His eyes visibly darkened, the gleam sparking into something much stronger than she was used to from him. It wasn't that this was completely unfamiliar, she was accustomed to seeing him ferocious when they were on a job and things weren't going as planned... but definitely not when it came to her.
"Don't be an idiot, Ariadne."
Now she really had enough. "Fuck you!"
She tried to walk past him but he blocked her path and continued to move in even closer, forcing her to back up until she was trapped against the bar.
His voice was low, tense. "I know you're angry-"
"Oh, is this where you try and placate me?"
"I should have told you about Yvonne-"
"But why would you, right? It's not like you owe me any explanations," she bit out with a degree of vitriol that surprised even her.
"But don't do something stupid just to get back at me."
"I'll fuck whomever I want, Arthur! You don't get a say in that."
"If it messes with our job, then I do."
"Don't worry. I'm sure Eames and I will be able to keep things professional," she mocked.
Ariadne trembled when Arthur unexpectedly captured her face in his hands. His gaze pierced right into her, and she stood transfixed. He didn't say anything for a long while, just holding her, his breath humming against her skin. And she found herself unable to speak, to leave, to do anything but remain in his embrace.
"I'm sorry," he whispered after several minutes, his voice cracking with desperation. "I should have told you, I know that, but I didn't know how to bring it up... what to say... I just..."
It scared her how easily she would let him in again. One soft plea and she was just ready and willing to forget he was in a committed relationship with someone else.
The thought made her sick to her stomach.
Before she could change her mind, Ariadne poured her drink over his head, shoved him away and ran off.
88888
Ariadne was fully aware that she was behaving childishly but she couldn't help herself. She had no interest in seeing Arthur and if not going into work was how she was going to avoid him, so be it. Of course there was only so long she could ignore her responsibilities, especially when they were in the initial stages of planning their next job. Luckily for her (and thanks to Eames), she knew Arthur wasn't going to be at the warehouse tonight after seven. He had a meeting with their new client, thus giving her the whole night to work with the schematics for the mansion she needed to recreate in dreamspace.
Few hours later, she was completely immersed in her work when a door slammed loudly in the opposite corner of the warehouse. The sound echoed throughout the whole building, startling her momentarily. She contemplated leaving her desk to find out who it was, but decided against it; it was probably Eames or Yusuf or maybe even Arthur in which case she definitely wasn't going to let him know she was here.
Shortly after, she was interrupted by a sound from behind.
"You finally decided to show up for work."
Arthur. Of course. Just her luck. Setting down the screwdriver she was holding, Ariadne inhaled a deep breath and turned around to confront him. He was dressed casually - well, for him anyway – in a green collared shirt and matching beige pants and vest. Leaning against the door frame, his hands were tucked into his pockets, and he was studying her with a cold glare. "I thought you weren't going to be here."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
"Yeah, you keep doing that a lot these days." She felt a twinge of guilt for taunting him but pushed the feeling deep down; she couldn't afford to go soft on him now.
"I was hoping we could discuss this like rational adults but I guess that's out of the question. And I'm really not in the mood to deal with an immature brat."
His words enraged her so much she couldn't think straight. Grabbing the half-finished model she had set aside shortly before, she flung it at Arthur. Much to her dismay, he shifted aside to avoid being struck by the structure which ended up colliding against the door and shattering into pieces.
He glowered at her, deceptively calm and still, but she knew instinctively this was an act. A predator lying in wait to attack its prey.
Suddenly, he was closing the distance between them.
And she ran.
The room was too small, he was too fast, and soon she was thrashing in his arms, kicking and screaming. She managed to punch him across the face once before he maneuvered her around and lifted her from behind; his arms tightened around her waist and just below her chest.
"I fucking hate you!" she yelled as he carried her to her desk and dropped her on top. "Fuck you!" She was heaving, her heart pounding in her chest so loudly it felt like it was going to explode. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she just wanted to hurt him the way he had her. And the fact that he was completely calm and eerily quiet throughout her tantrum did nothing to ease her temper.
It was a long time before she finally settled down. By then she was completely spent, lying quietly underneath him as he hovered over her, her arms pinned above her head with his fingers wrapped around her wrists.
All her things on the table were thrown to the floor during their struggle. And even though she couldn't see the ground, she was pretty sure it was a big chaotic mess. Just like her.
His obtrusive gaze was penetrating right through to her core and she closed her eyes in response.
Silence ensued for a while before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry," he whispered, nudging her to look at him.
"Don't. Don't do this," she urged, refusing to meet his gaze.
"I never meant to hurt you."
"I don't care. Just leave me alone."
"Don't you think I want to? But I can't. I just... I can't!"
It was the desperation and raw pain in his voice that finally made her look at him. His eyes were red, wet with unshed tears; she'd never seen him look this anguished before. If her hands were free, she would reach out to comfort him. "Arthur, you're hurting me." He eased his grip on her arms immediately, appearing surprised when she didn't escape him right away. Instead, she stayed underneath him, watching him hesitantly.
She's not sure how long they remained in their current position, scrutinizing each other silently. When his arms finally tired, he balanced the upper-half of his body on hers and rested his head on her chest. No longer perched above, he was looking off to the side.
"It's easy with her," he said softly. "Really easy. We don't push each other for more. We never fight."
Ariadne didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.
"I don't want to end up like Cobb. I saw what losing Mal did to him, how much it fucked him up."
"He was grieving-"
"No," he interjected, shaking his head. "I'm not talking about after she died. Before, much before, when she changed... it destroyed him slowly, but there was nothing he could do. He was stuck in hell... trapped... I don't ever want to end up like that."
Arthur trembled on top of her. To comfort him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and started stroking his hair slowly.
"You remind me of Mal."
"I look nothing like her."
"I'm not talking about her looks. She was smart, spontaneous, lost her temper at the drop of a hat."
"An immature brat?"
He chuckled into her skin. "No, that's just you."
She pulled his hair playfully and he groaned in response, finally turning to look at her. Resting his chin on her chest, he stared at her for a while, the liquid warmth of his gaze slowly sweeping over her.
"You drive me fucking crazy, Ariadne."
She didn't say anything.
"It's not going to be easy with you, is it?"
"No, it's not," she confessed. "And if that's what you want, maybe you should be with Yvonne."
"You don't mean that."
"I can't lie to you, Arthur. And I won't make false promises. I'm not going to tell you it'll be easy because it won't be. You frustrate me, you piss me off, we'll fight, and it'll be hard, really hard."
"You're not doing a very good job of selling this."
"I know... but it's the truth."
"Then why even bother?"
His question hung in the air between them, unanswered, suffocating her with its brutal honesty. And when he moved away, standing beside the desk now, the dull ache of disappointment washed over her. She sat up, and observed him as he began to pick things up from the floor and set them on the desk, avoiding her gaze the entire time.
"Do you love her?"
She didn't want to know, but she needed the answer.
"Yes," he said without any hesitation, and then he looked at her. "But I'm not in love with her."
They were both stuck, caught in an impossible situation. He wanted simplicity, a relationship that didn't need any work or effort, and she knew without a doubt it would never be like that for them.
"Where do we go from here?" he asked.
She had no idea.