Reparations
Author's note:
I am such a fan of Inception and the Arthur/Ariadne pairing. Those two are seriously meant for each other. I actually meant this to be a one- shot. I think the ending of this is perfect enough but if you guys think that I should continue writing, I will most definitely do so. I look forward to reading your comments!
Please review! I need a beta reader by the way!
"One month."
She closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the memory that she had been trying to suppress. She could almost feel his warm breath on her neck and hear his hypnotic, steady voice.
"I'll be back in a month."
Then, he was gone.
Just like that.
She took in a deep and shaky breath, trying to recover from the deep sense of longing and depression that the memory of him elicits. Her eyes went to the calendar, looking at the date circled in red. It was a month after he made that promise - a month after Fisher's inception. It took all the will-power and resolve she had left to try to move on and continue being the university student she was. Every class she had went straight by her and she found herself struggling to pay attention.
Too much had changed. Many people she was close to left her. Not just Arthur. Her roommate decided to move out of their apartment to live with her boyfriend, her best friend disrupted her studies to move back to the states and even Professor Miles was no longer here. He had resigned to spend more time with Cobb and his grandchildren. Her favourite professor and mentor was gone, replaced by a younger, sharper teacher who did not exude the warmth and friendliness that she grew to associate with Professor Miles.
You would think all these changes would make moving on easier but that was hardly the case. She felt like the world was going forward without her. She was rooted on the spot, forced to watch the world pass her by.
Every day that passed, increased the intensity of mixed emotions that was building up in her. The fear, excitement, anticipation, anxiety, worries and hope was at its peak now that the day she had been counting down to has finally, finally arrived.
Her eyes darted back and forth from the clock, calendar and the door. She felt like an idiot, crazy idiot sitting at the table counter by her door, just waiting and staring.
The minute hand was only a block of space away from the big black 12 on her simple black and white clock. Arthur was a man who keeps his word: if he said he would be here in a month's time, he will. There is still a few seconds left before it is a month and a day since he made that promise.
"He promised me. He will come." She reassured herself out loud.
With intense concentration and hope, her eyes trailed the second hand of the clock.
The second hand was closing in.
3…
2…
1…
The door swung open and Ariadne could feel relief flooding her. It felt like a huge burden have been lifted and she felt truly liberated for the first time.
That relief, however, was short lived.
Standing at her door was not the immaculate Arthur in three-piece suit she was familiar with.
The man who stood at her door was nothing like Arthur. He had short light brown hair that was usually neat but now looked dishevelled. He was not clothed in the casual formal clothes she came to know him for but in a black suit. It was his eyes that stole her breath away and made her insides feel like they were right in the middle of a snowstorm in the North Pole. His blue-green eyes were filled with sorrow that was heartbreaking, breathtaking and anxiety-inducing all at the same time. Her heart was seized with such fear, such panic that she could not breathe even if she tried. She could only make out a word.
"Eames?"
The distraught looking Eames looked up to meet her eyes. They were filled with unshed tears. The strangeness of the situation, him turning up instead of Arthur, him looking like someone sucked the life out of him and replaced it only with all the sad things in the world made her fear the answers to her next set of questions.
"What…what happened? Is Arthur - is everyone okay?"
It had taken months. She had expected recovery to take a much longer time.
Time, strangely, passed a lot more slowly than she thought it would. Six months felt like six years. Some much had changed. A sense of déjà vu hit her; she realized those six months ago, she sat exactly where she was, thinking about how much her life had changed. She remembered hating all those changes, she remembered…waiting.
Waiting for him.
An insistent firm knocking on the door stopped her from delving any deeper into her musings.
She unlocked the door and flung it open, expecting it to be her annoying neighbour hoping to borrow something.
What she found, instead of her neighbour, was her expectation failing her yet again.
Standing in front of her was the man she was dying, literally dying, to see…six months ago. If she was not so shell-shocked, she would have taken a moment to laugh at the irony of the situation: the man she was dying to see became the person she would rather die than to meet again in just six months.
He stood there looking just as he always had: immaculate, prim and proper. He was in his usual getup: slick gelled dark brown hair, blue long-sleeved shirt and a light grey three-piece suit. Only thing different was his dark brown eyes, they held what seemed like regret and hope. His shoulders were tense as he gave her an apologetic lopsided smile.
He was nervous.
Heck, nervous was a big time understatement about what he was feeling. He tried to pin down a word to describe the brewing storm in him that was threatening to be unleashed, only to realize it could not be described by one word. It could only be described by several: fear, excitement, anticipation, anxiety, worries and hope. They were a contradiction of emotions. Above all, he was gripped most with regret. He regretted not meeting Ariadne six months ago, he felt like he owned her a huge apology and more.
It took him a lot of courage to travel down to Paris. In fact, it took him six months worth of courage. His fist lingered, his knuckles brushing the surface of the door. He knew that once he knocked, there is no more running away. He has to face her, face this and face his feelings - for real.
Holding on to the rash and impulsiveness that drove him to travel here, he pushed all thoughts and emotions aside and focused only on knocking. Oddly, once his knuckles came into contact with the surface of the door, he could not bring himself to stop. There was a raising irrational fear that was growing inside him. His mind imagined scenarios of why she was not responding to the knocks. With every 'maybe', his knocks grew more insistent, louder and desperate.
Then, his knuckles hit the empty air.
He took in a sharp intake of air and let his arm drop to his sides. He had dreamed of her in those six months. In his dreams, she looked the same as she always had. Now that Ariadne materialized right in front of him in her white blouse and dark blue jeans in flesh, he realized that he was clearly not able to imagine Ariadne with all her perfection. Especially the way she just fills the surrounding with her presence and the aura of freshness and lightness that she exudes where ever she goes. He noted that her hair grew longer; they were also slightly darker than he remembered. Her soulful and mesmerizing brown eyes were staring at him in shock. She still had her signature accessory round her neck: her scarf. It was red like her lips which were shaped in a small 'O'.
It became obvious to him then that Eames was right, he clearly lacked imagination.
Moments seemed to pass by with her staring at him. A great crushing sense of nervousness had him rooted to the ground, banishing his thoughts about running. He hated how she always made him feel so out of control, she made him into this coward that only wants to run away.
He squared himself for whatever that might be coming his way. He decided to start by giving an apologetic smile.
"Hey."
Her face was drained of all colours at the sound of his voice. She continued to stand there, still staring at him and the only movement was her closing her mouth. She chewed, worrisome, on her bottom lip. He could see that she was contemplating what to say, her hesitance obvious and understandable. Her eyes stared at her feet for a moment before she looked up at him sharply. Her beautiful brown eyes marred with restrained anger.
"What…why…why are you here, Arthur?"
He recoiled involuntarily from the acidity of her voice. He tried helplessly to suppress the hurt that was blossoming in his chest.
"To fulfil my promise."
"What promise?"
"I promised that I did come back."
"You promised to come back SIX months ago. That was months ago." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. Her voice was so filled with pain, anger and hurt that made him hates himself for what he did. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and apologize over and over again and he wished he could turn back the clock to undo his wrongs.
"I know I am late, I am really sorry. Please...please hear me out."
He watched as she lifted her left hand to cover her eyes, a habit of hers that surfaced whenever she was distressed. The familiarity of the action brought a small smile to his lips. A small smile that froze when his eyes landed on the silver ring that graced her third finger. He stepped forward; closing the distance between them so he could scrutinize it. It was a simple single princess cut stone set on a plain thin silver band. Looking at it, he felt as if someone doused him with a bucket of ice cold water and the coldness of the water seeped right into his bones.
"Ariadne."
She was surprised to see him so close to her when she removed her hand but she made no move to put distance between them and merely stared dumbly at him.
"Why is there a ring on your finger?"
Her eyes betrayed her surprise and guilt, "Arthur, I – "
A voice from the inside of her apartment cut her off. "Who is that at the door, love?"
There was something eerily familiar about that voice that made his heart freeze over. He refused to feed his suspicions and kept his eyes trained on Ariadne, waiting for her answer to his question. There were movements at the corner of his eyes. An arm wrapped around Ariadne's waist from behind and the figure towering over her, planted a kiss on her forehead. It was such an intimate gesture that it took every bit of his will-power and resolve not to lunge at that guy.
Braving himself, he slid his gaze upwards to meet the gaze of the intruder who confirmed his suspicion with a loud welcome and hearty hug.
"Arthur darling! Fancy seeing you here! What brings our famous stick-in-the-mud here?"
It was like someone flicked a switch in him, he felt all emotions leave him. The blank, detached and cold Arthur took over. The guard he so willing let down only for Ariadne was back in its place.
"Eames, be a darling and go get Arthur some tea, will you?"
Eames let go of Arthur and clapped his shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the change that occurred in the point man. Turning towards Ariadne, he gave a mock salute and pecked her cheek before stalking back into the apartment. There was a vague clacking coming from the apartment that filled the tense silence that was hanging like taut, wound up cables ready to snap between Arthur and Ariadne.
Looking at him apologetically, Ariadne was the first one to break the unbearable silence. She was staring at his feet, refusing to look up and meet his eyes.
"Arthur…I'm sorry."
She paused for a beat before continuing in a soft whisper.
"You're too late."