Ariadne's eyes shuddered open. She sat up, gasping, and immediately groaned as agony slashed through her body. Fearfully, she glanced around the dank, cramped little room, and found herself alone.
Relieved for the moment, she turned her attention to her condition. She glanced down to take inventory of herself. Cuts marred her limbs, some shallow, some not, but the deeper ones were carefully bandaged. More bandages were tied around a few of her limbs; a few of her bones were broken, and the realization made her stomach nauseous with pain, but she swallowed her bile as shock rushed in, masking the excruciation. She reached up to touch her face and felt puffy, marred skin scream with sensitivity as her clumsy fingers brushed their surfaces. The fact that she could move her arms at all was a significant relief. The ropes were gone, though their cruel burns had left red, angry chafing encircling her wrists and legs.
He was a sick, sick bastard. He'd beat her half to death, cut her, violated her, and he'd bandaged her wounds, set her broken bones. He'd even placed her back in her underwear. It all felt more like a mockery than actual courtesy. Ariadne swallowed thickly, feeling her raw throat protest, as she remembered the truly awful moments. She wanted to die thinking about it.
Something yellow caught her eye in the fierce light that glared down on her from the one construction light that sat in the corner. Ariadne squinted at it, and realized it was a note. She didn't want to move, she was in such pain, but she had to know what it said.
Ariadne inhaled deeply, and then pushed out the air with a hiss as she drew herself to her feet. He hadn't broken her legs, at least, and she could be grateful for that. Drawing nearer to the table slowly and on wobbly legs, she saw a plate covered in tin foil with a yellow sticky note on top. A tall bottle of water sat nearby. Lifting up the foil, she found fresh food, neatly arranged on the plastic plate. She picked up the note, drawing it closer to her face to read; it fluttered in her shaky hands.
Darling—
I expect every drop and crumb to be gone when I get back. If there's anything left, things will be that much worse for you if I have to feed you myself. If you need to relieve yourself, there's a bucket in the corner.
I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too much.
All my love,
–Arthur
The note folded easily in her grasp as she crumpled it viciously, wishing it was his heart in her hands instead. Desperation fueled her to search for a way out of the room. She dragged herself around every inch of the 10' x 20' space, pressing at every crack and cranny with her sensitive fingertips, but there was nothing. The one door was locked tightly, but there was no lock on the inside where Ariadne stood, and therefore nothing for her to work with, even if she'd known how to pick locks. There were no windows.
Miserably, Ariadne kicked the bucket in the corner with all the might she had left in her small frame. The plastic thing barely rolled to the wall ten feet away. Her exhausted, riddled state frightened her, and Ariadne realized that even though she despised the thought of acquiescing to anything the monster demanded of her, she did need her strength, and food would certainly help to gain it back. She went back to the table with the food, and began to eat it listlessly, resentfully.
When it was all gone, Ariadne lifted the water bottle, struggling to unscrew the lid. She drank it quickly, not having realized how thirsty she was, but when she was finished with it, she began to feel light headed.
Damn him, she cursed as she found the slight, bitter aftertaste of drugs on her tongue. Ariadne stumbled back, fighting the drugs mightily, but their crushing black wave was far too strong. She collapsed onto the floor, falling into a senseless darkness before she'd hit the floor.
.
.
.
"You're spending too much time on those buildings," Arthur said reproachfully.
"You're spending too much time obsessing over her, darling," drawled Eames, walking up behind the two. "Honestly, love, she did a bang up job on the inception case. Quit babying her when she's perfectly capable, Mother Goose."
"Look, this is important. I'm heading up the job this time," Arthur retorted, wheeling on the Forger. "I need things to be done properly, assuming I got the proper people for the job."
"Oh, get the M4A1 out of your arse, Arthur," Eames snapped.
"Guys!" Ariadne yelled irritably. "Both of you shut up, or we're going to be wandering around in a city-wide version of Penrose stairs for the entirety of the mission."
Eames held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right, love, don't get yourself in a twist. I'm out of here anyways. It's gettin' late."
He rumbled away, stopping to peer at something over the new Chemist's shoulder and give his very strong opinion about it as the two exited the building. Now it was only Arthur and Ariadne left in the chilly warehouse, as per usual lately. Arthur was always fussing over something or another, and Ariadne found herself fixing what he'd been fussing over, making for later and later hours.
Ariadne examined Arthur's face, lined with stress and worry. He had been considerably more easy going when Cobb had headed up the inception mission. Now that he was in charge, Arthur was snappier, shorter tempered, and prone to second guessing everyone's work. The perfectionist in him had become something equivalent to a monster boss that the team was quickly tiring of, and yet whose opinions they still respected and followed.
Arthur caught her still-slightly heated gaze and gave Ariadne a quick pat on the shoulder, slightly apologetic and less hostile now that Eames was not there to egg him on. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm picking on you. There's just a lot of pressure on this job. Everything's got to be perfect, you know? If one thing is wrong, it could throw off the trajectory of the entire attempt. Still, I shouldn't be taking it out on you, so I'm sorry."
Ariadne considered for a moment letting him drop the subject and walk away, but that was what she'd done for the entirety of their efforts in pulling the job together. She'd been too afraid to let him know what she was thinking, seeing Arthur in full-blown tension mode like that. It was time to voice her concerns, now or never. She caught his arm as he began to move away.
"Arthur, wait," she said, her voice urgent enough to halt him in his tracks. He gave her a quizzical, slightly annoyed look. She could see him thinking about all the things he still had to get done.
"The reason why everything is so difficult to pull together is because we don't have enough time. Four days just isn't going to prepare us well enough. Something will go wrong."
"Ariadne," Arthur began, looking more than a little annoyed now, "we only have one chance at this. Scuito has just gotten out of prison, but he's already back to his old ways. In a few days, he's going to leave the country, and he'll be almost untraceable. The government said they are going to arrest him in four days on false charges, and let him go after that. We have only three hours as a window of opportunity to complete this extraction, and there's not going to be another shot after that."
"I know all that," Ariadne replied impatiently. "You told us earlier."
"Oh, you heard?" Arthur replied, giving her a smile that was just a little too tight to be anything teasing. "And here I was thinking that you didn't listen to a word I said."
"Arthur, I'm being serious."
"So am I. Don't you think I've thought everything out? If you all will just do the jobs I've assigned you, we'll be fine. Scuito hasn't had the training Fischer had. I've made damn sure of it this time. I've researched him inside and out. This is going to be a breeze if we just follow what I've mapped out."
"Even if he hasn't had the training, Scuito is a dangerous man," Ariadne argued. "I'm sure his mind will be likewise."
Arthur's expression shifted to denigrating as he regarded the Architect. "Ariadne. Don't confuse the mind with the dream. Our team is going to be in control of the dreams, and so Scuito will be under our control, as well."
"Dreams are the gateway to the subconscious, Arthur. They are the links to the minds and the hearts of people. Things could be more volatile than you might think."
"Why are you questioning me so much, Ariadne? Why can't you just trust my judgment? Why can't you just believe me when I say that I have everything figured out?"
"Because that's just the problem. Not everything can be figured out, especially by you. You're so dependent on matters of the mind that you don't ever factor in matters of the heart and soul. I'm just reminding you that those things exist!"
Arthur looked right at her coldly. "Oh, believe me. When it comes to you, Ariadne, I can't help but know that those things exist."
If he had smiled, or spoken with warmth and affection, those were the words that Ariadne had been longing to hear from him. As it was, Ariadne felt her breath hitch in her throat. Blood roared in her ears as her face flushed brilliantly. As she looked into Arthur's emotionless brown eyes, she received the confirmation of the suspicions she'd mulled over in her bed on the night he'd offered the job to her. Arthur did know about her feelings for him. He'd known. And yet, he'd strung her along this whole time. Where had he learned to be so heartless?
She didn't think that that moment that he could have cut her any deeper, the way he said those words.
Ariadne didn't say a word. She couldn't. She simply picked up her things and left, exiting the building and into the rainy night.
She didn't hear him curse regretfully under his breath at his own callousness and start to go after her, only to stop and let her go.
A/N: I debated on whether or not I should've added that last sentence. I decided that Arthur isn't going to be a complete jerkface :D Poor guy's just under pressure and cracking.
Yeah, this is more or less a filler chapter, and a rather short one at that. It's a necessary evil to set up the next chapter, which will be a bit more exciting than this one :]
Reviews are love, amiguitos. But you already knew that. ;P
