EM: Yes! I am continuing with Always the Point Man!
Happy New Year everyone! So I don't normally update this fast (so don't expect it to always be like this), but I figure it's a new year and I better start it off better than my day has actually been going. I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday. And I really want to thank all of you who reviewed, alerted and even favorited! There's been a constant flow of ding's from my phone about all the alerts I'm getting and I always get the cheesiest grin when I see them. For those of you who didn't review, but did other alerts (thank you truly but) please consider reviewing this time. I would absolutely die of happiness.
I want to thank platypus core for being the first to review. And I would also like to thank a-happy-little-ending because for some reason I really liked your review and it made me feel good, especially since my day has been not so good. For those of you who I didn't respond back to, I'm sorry. Things were a little hectic and I just forgot. Please forgive me!
One last thing, this chapter is again Ariadne centered-focused actually and it's quite long (they won't always be this way either). I know we're all waiting for Arthur but Ariadne keeps speaking to me, rather loudly and I wanted to give her a chapter. For AngelWildWings181, she is not the complete damsel here, which I have also found that others keep writing her as, and I am so glad that you liked her my way. In my eyes, Ariadne is a strong-willed woman, and though she may have her own problems, it doesn't mean that she needs Arthur to be around for her to move on. So this is my take on her. Hope you all like it despite the complete lack of Arthur-it killed me to write a chapter without Arty, trust me. Sorry for the really long A/N (again!). For some reason I had a lot to say. ENJOY!
Reviews, again, would be heaven sent.
Disclaimer: Inception is completely owned by a brilliant little man named Christopher Nolan, who I do hope to one day thank most graciously for taking the time to develop such an amazing concept.
Attempting Normal
It had in fact been very difficult to return to 'civilization' as she liked to call it. These were people she had to deal with directly again, not projections. When she did something she instantly felt might be wrong, she would look up in sudden anticipation, waiting for them all to converge on her. But of course, it never happened and then she would laugh anxiously at herself for being so paranoid while she fingered the bishop she had taken to carrying with her everywhere.
After she had said her goodbye to Arthur and made her way to the hotel, which wasn't simply a hotel but a beautifully crafted piece of architecture that stole her breath, she had found it hard to sleep, though that was all she wanted to do. She had, actually, found it hard to do anything. Talking with the receptionist had been difficult for Ariadne because lying wasn't exactly one of her strong suits, especially when she had mentioned a Mr. Cambridge and it had taken a minute for Ariadne to realize that it had to be one of Arthur's aliases.
Maneuvering through the hotel hallways without looking over her shoulder after every corner had been interesting as well. Many of the other guests had given her sidelong glances. She had even searched her entire room when she had entered it, after she had been stunned into silence at the magnificence of it all. Arthur had truly outdone himself this time, finding her a hotel that would be suited to her tastes. She had to wonder how much information he had acquired to know this. She realized that she may not want to know just how much he knew about her.
Thinking about Arthur brought her back to the airport and the goodbye she had left him with. She wished they could have had more time together. Being alone, in that beautifully rich room had left her with a pit in the bottom of her stomach and the gnawing in her chest only grew till she had to order a bottle of wine to subdue her nerves.
Where she then found out that Arthur was paying for everything, though she should have known, him being the best point man around. She could go for a massage, eat lunch on their garden terrace surrounded by people she could never associate with and watch any movie she wanted. When she went out onto the balcony she was given a magnificent view of Sunset Boulevard, its dazzling lights giving off the most beautiful glow that accented the night sky. None of this though did anything to assuage her growing fear that this was it.
The job was over. And she would probably never see any of them ever again.
She did cry then, as she buried herself beneath the soft sheets. It wasn't hysterical or emotional though. She realized it was relieving the ache in her chest, her swirling thoughts and the all-around depression at the situation that was swooping down on her. Instead of screaming, laughing or doing anything physical, she had found that crying was taking away some of the anxiety within her. A sort of release. She would never admit to anyone later on of course that she had cried, but she allowed herself to do so, the salty tears streaming down her face.
And she fell asleep thinking of the job and everyone she was going to miss.
She woke the next morning, her chess piece clutched in her right hand, though she didn't remember falling asleep with it and her eyes slightly swollen and salt on her lips. She was disoriented for a moment, confused as to why she had woken up in the softest bed she had ever slept in and quickly swung her legs over the edge and tipped over the chess piece on the end table.
Not dreaming.
She then remembered the events of before and sighed in both relief and sadness. Not sure of what to do next, she looked down to find herself still in the previous day's clothes and opted out for a shower. She made her way to the bathroom and turned the handles and water sprang from the silver shower head, steam quickly rising from it. She stripped out of all of her clothes, each article dropping carelessly on the ground and then she stepped into the hot water and the tiled shower. She had to turn down the hot water slightly, because any hotter and it would scald her skin and she exhaled loudly when it hit her face. The water washed away the salty tracks on her face, relaxed her stiff muscles and cleared her head.
And then she burst into a fit of giggles at how much she was enjoying such a simple shower.
So when her sides ached and her laughter subsided she practically moaned in pleasure when the soft smell of lavender assaulted her nostrils and she began to massage the soap into her skin. When she started on the shampoo she melted when she began to massage her scalp and decided at that moment to use Arthur's generosity and get a massage before she left.
When it all washed away and she stepped from the shower feeling clean and refreshed, she renewed her resolve. She would go home to Paris, go back to school and the ridiculous amount of work that she would have to make up, perhaps get a new flat and attempt to gain normalcy back. She knew that it may be hard, but she would need to try.
And that was what she had done after she had eaten the room service that had brought quite a few of her favorite foods for breakfast that made her wonder what else Arthur could possibly do for her at this point. She had gotten her massage, booked a flight to Paris and made her way home. There she found her empty flat and wandered through the rooms, touching everything like she needed to reacquaint herself with it. She had tipped the bishop twice, out of habit now more than anything, and then opened all of the windows and the blinds. She set about doing things that would keep her hands and her mind busy, like emptying out the fridge, shaking out blankets, dusting furniture, straightening out the flat. It was only then that she realized how little she had actually done when she had been working for that month and a half with the team. She had failed to keep her flat orderly and clean.
She argued with herself that it was just the way things worked when your mind was completely taken over by an idea like dream-sharing because honestly, who would ever guess such a thing existed. She figured she was taking care of it now anyway. And then after that she had decided that she liked her flat very much and moving to a new one would be wasteful. So she spent some of her money on things she needed and put the rest toward paying her ridiculous school loans. She bought a new rug because the previous one had too many stains to count on it, a new coffee table because it was about time for a new one, stocking the fridge with food, real, edible food that could be cooked and then put money aside for things that she may want over time.
All of this though did nothing to quell the anxiety she had developed. She had found out rather quickly, as soon as she had gotten home to Paris and went to sleep in her own bed that very same night that she could still dream.
And when she dreamed it was always a guess as to who would be there when she closed her eyes.
The first night it had been Mal. An angry, bleeding from the abdomen Mal, who told her she would never know what it was like to be half of a whole and who wielded a knife, ready to stab her because she had no right to shoot her like that. Ariadne had woken up in a sweat and had reached for the bishop immediately. Her hands shook as she tipped it over, six times that night, and when she was sure that it was just a dream she had gone to the bathroom, splashed cold water over her face and went back to bed. She wouldn't even admit to herself that she had briefly wished that Arthur and his assuring presence had been there to check on her. It had taken a few hours to fall back asleep but she did and when she had woken up again, realized she had not dreamed again, tipped the bishop and then moved on.
From then on, it became a rotation of who would come to her dreams. The second night was Arthur and she was embarrassed that night after waking to know she had dreamed about Arthur. The night after was Eames. She woke to this one wondering why it hadn't been Cobb but then Cobb showed up the fourth night and so on. Sometimes she had more Arthur, other times it was Mal. Sometimes it was Mal stabbing Arthur or Cobb, sometimes it was Eames berating her for having such ridiculous dreams and sometimes it was no one and she was alone with a number of projections who ignored her.
Either way dreams became a source of her fitful sleep. Professor Miles became increasingly worried but she had assured him that it was just the dreams that kept her from gaining the proper sleep she needed and that she didn't need anyone to talk to about it.
And so her life moved on, she becoming accustomed to the nightmares, making sure to have plenty of tea on hand to calm her nerves if they were especially bad. Going back to school was difficult because dream-sharing was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She hadn't really wanted to give it up but nothing had come about after LA. So she accepted, not by choice, that this was what she was supposed to do. Be normal.
Sometimes she talked with Professor Miles about dream-sharing, seeing as he was the only one around who knew of what she had done. Sometimes she would walk by the warehouse, sneaking in and sitting in the one lawn chair that was left, imagining Eames in his corner, practicing the habits of Browning in a mirror, or Cobb in the corner, 'testing' a new formula of the somnacin and Arthur bent over her maze models, his gaze intent and focused on what she was telling him.
It was apparent she missed the kind of focus that Arthur had offered. When she discussed architecture with the students at the university she could see the difference in their eyes. It was mediocre at best. Arthur had offered her intensity, calculating advice and the same passion about dreams.
Some days, she realized she missed his presence terribly, especially when she discussed architecture. Eames may have thought that Arthur had no imagination, but she knew better than to assume that this had Arthur lacking. What he didn't have in imagination he more than made up for. Sometimes his work had been so perfect, so masterfully done she had wondered where he had learned it all.
But mostly she missed his constant and assuring abilities and the way he could always take care of her without making her feel like she couldn't do it on her own. Ariadne knew she didn't need some bodyguard to watch out for her but it was nice to know that someone would and could do it.
She sighed.
"Month four." She crossed off one more day on her calendar. It had been four months since the Fischer job. Four months since she had done any type of dream sharing. Four months of pure torture. She flopped onto the couch.
After several minutes of brooding she decided to make use of what daylight she had left. No use sitting around wishing for something that wasn't going to come about.
By the time she came home she was tired and spent. After a long bath and some chamomile tea, she finally found her way to her bed, where she melted beneath her sheets. She reached over to the night stand and brought the chess piece into her palm. When she clicked off the light, she situated herself beneath the sheets, sighing in pleasure as they wrapped her up, the softness a blessing.
It took her a few minutes before she slipped off to half-sleep, her mind thinking about who would visit her tonight. She blanched.
Tonight was Mal again. A shiver ran down her spine and she pulled the sheets tighter. The ones with Mal were beginning to get worse. Sometimes she didn't die right away and Mal would torture her. Sometimes Arthur didn't die right away. She hated those dreams the most. But her nerves couldn't keep her awake any longer and sleep claimed her.
For some reason, Mal's hair was always meticulously perfect, each ringlet falling perfectly around her face, framing those beautiful eyes of hers. It contrasted with the angry wound in her middle and the blood that slowly dripped from it. She looked to Mal's hand and found a knife there again, but this time there was also a gun sitting on the table next to her. The knife was normal so this did not surprise Ariadne.
Mal smiled. "You still don't know, do you?" Ariadne attempted to move but found her wrists and ankles bound by heavy chains.
"What do you want Mal?" Ariadne had taken to speaking to the shade. It usually helped her focus on what to say next than what she was actually doing.
"For you to understand what you took from me!" Mal slapped Ariadne hard across the face. Ariadne gasped in surprise and pain, the chains behind her clanking loudly. Blood pooled in her mouth and dribbled down her chin. When she looked up again, her eyes widened.
"Arthur?" Mal smiled wickedly at Ariadne's whisper of recognition, drawing closer to him.
He was lying on the ground, his usually slicked back hair a mess, falling around his face. His suit, what would have been a smoke colored three piece with a crimson colored tie, was ripped in places and splotched with stains of blood. He was not wearing shoes and his face was battered, a deep purple colored bruise already forming across his cheek, blood dripping down his chin. She heard him groan.
"This is a dream." Ariadne willed herself to remember that this was just a dream and that Arthur was safe somewhere.
"If it is a dream, then wake up." Ariadne scowled. She couldn't just wake up, especially if her hands were bound. And this wasn't like the dreams she got with the somnacin.
"You can't can you?" Ariadne hated the way that Mal seemed to enjoy the torture. "That's because this isn't a dream." Mal always said that in her dreams. She figured it was probably because Cobb's Mal always claimed it was never a dream.
"I'm going to make you watch. Watch as he dies. Watch as he disappears from your life forever." Ariadne pulled against the chains again, her breathing becoming erratic at Mal's approach to Arthur. His eyes fluttered open and he attempted to rise. Mal swiftly kicked him in the stomach and he doubled over, spitting blood. Mal laughed once and plunged the knife into his thigh.
Arthur screamed and Ariadne turned her head, holding back the scream that she too wished she could release.
"It's just a dream Ariadne. Only a dream." Her whispers became her lifeline to what she knew was the truth. This was just her subconscious.
She gave one short quick laugh. A subconscious that tortured her.
She heard Arthur scream again and flinched. "Ariadne...run." She looked up in surprise. Normally Arthur did not speak or he was never given the chance to. Hearing his voice though was painful. She could feel pain welling up in her chest, pain at seeing Arthur harmed. She hated her dreams. She hated them.
And then Mal grabbed him by the hair, lifted his head and laughed as she slit his throat. When she released him, he slumped to the ground, his eyes staring widely back at her.
"That's what you did to me." Mal closed in on her, her face mere inches away. "You took my Dom away from me. I'm only giving you what you gave me." Tears started to stream down Ariadne's face as Mal raised the knife once more and aimed for her heart.
This time, she did scream.
She launched herself upright, her mouth open in a scream. Her hands frantically searched the bed around her, the bishop lost amongst the sheets. Only when her hand closed around it, so tight she felt it beginning to bruise, did she exhale in relief. Her heart pounded furiously and she was breathing fast. She brought her knees up to her chest and laid her head on her knees.
It was just a dream, Ari. Calm down. Just a-
What was that? She looked around and realized that her phone was ringing. She scrambled off the bed towards her bag where her cell phone had been left and started tossing out books and papers until she found the glowing screen and quickly flipped it open without looking at the number.
"H-hello?" She cursed internally at the way her hello came out stuttered and frantic. There was silence at the other end and she waited, wondering if she had missed the call. But then she heard breathing and was about to say something again when a voice came through.
"Ariadne?" She heard the slight hesitation in her name and the deep voice was instantly familiar, the ring of her name making her breath hitch.
She was no longer dreaming right? She placed the bishop on the floor and tipped it over three times to be sure.
"Arthur?"
EM: I like cliffhangers. :) Remember, reviews are beautiful!
