Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Inception
Arthur Is Dead
By: Santiva Potter
Summary: After a bloody message is delivered to Ariadne, the young architect must find a way to either bring back the dead or avenge his death.
Chapter 2- A Rose by Any Other Name
A few weeks later, Ariadne felt trapped.
Suffocated by the smell of grease and oil, the laughter of children and the cheering of supportive parents gathered in the weary wooden stands.
She sits in the stands of a local little league softball game, watching her good friend Sara coach her players to a victory—or at least to a loss with a margin smaller than 20. It was supposed to be her "fun day", a breath of fresh air, but Ari's mind stretched miles from her. The feel good mood of the game seemed to be void in her presence.
"Still worried about you friend?"
Next to Ariadne was her sister-in-law, Angela. Angela seemed as comfortable as any expecting mother who was overdue, but she at least put on a good face.
"Have the police gotten anywhere?" Angela asked.
"No," Ariadne responded. "They can't find any prints at the apartment and even better, they can't find a match to the description I gave of Arthur. Nothing is making sense."
Angela placed a comforting hand over Ari's. "I'm sure the police will find something."
Ariadne was quick to notice that Angela did not bother with her usual sentiment, "I'm sure Arthur isn't dead."
"Well," her sister-in-law continued, "there is something to look forward to. Paul should be home in a few hours."
It was something to be excited about. Ariadne's older brother Paul serves with the Marines and had finally been given an extended leave, just in time for the baby.
"That's true," Ari agreed, "but only because now he gets to listen to your nagging!"
"Hey! Enough out you!" Angela smiled swatting her friend.
Paul's return did bring Ariadne some joy. He hadn't changed much, but his presence, at least temporarily, gave her some ease. After Paul landed at base, he, Angela, Ariadne and Sara, who was still sporting a heavy loss from the earlier game, traveled back to Paul and Angela's apartment for dinner. All was going well until Sara dropped the ball mentioning, "It's good to have you back Paul, especially with all the craziness that's been going on in this place."
It wasn't as if Ariadne had not planned on informing her brother of the break-in, but even Angela knew that timing was everything.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Paul demanded glancing between his sister and his wife. "What the hell is she talking about?"
At Ariadne's silence, Angela eventually briefly explained the break-in. Paul remained quite throughout the entire explanation, his eyes never leaving his sister's frame. Finally when she was done, he asked Ariadne softly, "Are you okay?"
"I've been better," Ari admitted, "but I'm staying in a hotel, just in case."
"A hotel? Why not just stay here?"
"Paul, let her be. It's probably better for her at the hotel," Angela chimed in. "There's security cameras, guards, and plenty of witnesses if someone wants to try to pull something funny."
Paul nodded though Ariadne could still feel his discontent.
"How about you stay with me for a few nights," Ariadne offered. "I've got a deluxe suite. Separate rooms, separate bathrooms and a full kitchen."
"Better than you staying by yourself," Paul agreed. "Babe?"
"So long as Ari's fine with it, then I'm good."
"Perfect."
"I like how you all aren't inviting me to this slumber party!" Sara teased.
"We would," Ari began, "but you kick in your sleep.
"And snore," Paul added.
"And you fart—really loudly. It's disgusting," Angela finished.
"Yeah, I hate all of you too," Sara answered as the kitchen exploded into laughter and additional teasing.
By eleven that evening, Ariadne, Angela and Paul walked through Ariadne's suite.
"This isn't bad, Ari," her brother complimented.
"Beautiful view," Angela smiled looking through the glass doors, which led to the balcony that hung over the city.
"Jesus, how much are you paying for all of this?" Paul asked eyeing the plush leather couch that sat in front of a large screen television.
"Well I never really spent the money from that internship last year."
Paul nodded, his gaze taking in the sight before him. Angela chuckled; she could almost hear the Sports Center programming that was bound to be emitted from the TV set.
"So this Arthur guy," Paul started as he made his way to the couch. "Was he your boyfriend or something?"
"Um….no," Ari blushed. She was thankful that her brother's back was to her, but she couldn't escape Angela's knowing glance.
"We were just friends, " Ariadne stated with a bit more confidence.
"I wonder why they choose you them," Paul said absentmindedly.
"Well, we can let the cops worry about that, right babe?" Angela said before stretching and in the process letting out a yawn. "I am spent," she sighed. "I'll see you in the morning Ari."
Paul starred at the blank television screen for a moment before turning back to his sister.
"We're going to catch the bastards. You know that right?"
"Of course."
He stood up, crossed the room to kiss his sister softly on the head before heading towards his room for the night.
"G'night. Try to get some rest."
"You too, and Paul?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad you're home."
"Me too, Ari, me too."
Ariadne slipped into the room that she'd found solace in for weeks now and made her way to the bed.
Sleep overcame her quickly but as always it was the same dream. She and Arthur were in a hotel room, a room similar to the one that she'd visited him during one of his trips to France. He sipped on an expensive red wine, while still dressed to the nines and Ariadne lounged on his lap as they sat comfortably in silence watching a classic black and white film. Though she was never quite sure, she assumed that it was Casablanca, as Arthur had insisted that they watch the film after she confessed to have never finishing it. However her attention was never on the movie, but the Point man above her; the strong features of his face, the drink in his hand, the way that he sat so still but with a sense of peace. She simply couldn't get over how handsome he was.
"Arthur?" Her voice was as soft as a whisper, but he heard her. He always heard her. A smile broke across Arthur's face as he lowered his left hand to trace soft patterns against her cheeks.
"Ariadne," he answered slowly and softly.
It was a precious moment, a peaceful moment, a—
Ariadne's body was shaken awake by a loud and sudden crash.
Scrambling out of bed, she grabbed the gun that she'd kept concealed under her pillow. It had been strangely enough a gift from Arthur; one that had arrived shortly after the Inception job had been completed. Turning on the small flashlight above the trigger, she slowly made her way out of the bedroom and to the foyer of the suite.
"Ari?" Paul called out to her in the darkness.
"Yes?"
"Are you carrying a gun?" Paul asked, surprise coloring his voice.
"Yes."
"Okay, I need you to lower your weapon. I don't want you to hurt yourself. I'm going to try to get to the lights."
But she didn't lower her gun. With the small flashlight and the moon's light that passed through the blinds, Ari could se another broken window and not too far from it, on a round wooden table, a single rose that rested in a tall slim vase, accompanied by a small note card. As Ariadne grabbed the card, the lights flashed back on and Ari hid her right hand into her pocket.
"A rose?" Angela asked by her doorway. "They broke in to deliver a rose?"
"Maybe it's poisonous," Paul suggested, moving towards the table. "We probably shouldn't touch it."
As Angela moved through the foyer, Paul continued, "In any event, we need call the cops or at least security."
"Um, Paul?"
Fear had seeped into the voice of Paul's wife and Ariadne felt her soul cringe as she gazed into her now lit room.
"Arthur is still dead," Paul read fro the walls. "Calling the police right now."
Angela swiftly shut the door and ushered Ari to the couch but the words ere stained into her memory. It was the same message; the same handwriting and they had been in her room while she slept. Ariadne's world began to blur as her stomach felt awfully sick. He only thing holding her together was Angela's firm grip on her wrist and when her hands covered Ariadne's, she realized that she had been shaking and that her blurry vision was due to the alligator tears that were streaming down her face.
"Deep breaths, sweetie," Angela coached softly. "Deep breaths."
"I-I have to-to…"
"Ange!"
"I'll be right back," Angela promised, rising to meet her husband. As did so, Ariadne felt her body slack into the cushions of the couch. The rose still sat on the round table, in her direct line of vision and as she starred at it, her right hand slipped back into her pocket and revisited to small note-card that she had found earlier.
Change of plans, it read. Café de Solange. Two days from now. 2 heures et demie.
Ariadne blinked through her tears and reread the message several times before she allowed her mind to believe what she was seeing. Arthur's handwriting, clear as day, lay before her. It took the fear from her mind and replaced it with unbelievable determination. She had to get to Paris and soon.
"Where is she?"
Ariadne turned to see the detective from weeks before, leading other officers and hotel security into her suite. She quickly and discreetly shoved the note back into her pocket. The officers and personnel first checked the bedroom as a group, before the lead detective made his way to her.
"How are you doing, ma'am?"
"Fine," Ariadne whispered.
"There was just the rose on the table?" he asked.
She nodded, not trusting her voice, as they were interrupted by one of his officers.
"Hey boss," the young male officer called out from the doorway of Ariadne's bedroom, "Jedson is pretty confident that it's the same handwriting, which means that the place is probably as clean as it was last time."
"Well, I hope you're wrong about that. And get me some specs on the table and the rose."
The officer nodded, approaching the table.
"And use the backlight to check for some footprints. There's a good distance between the bedroom and the window."
"Sure thing boss. And there was nothing else on the table, correct?"
"Not unless you see something," the lead detective began, though he eyes trailed to Ariadne.
"Nothing," she repeated softly and for a moment, she could have sworn that the index card in her pocket burned.
Sorry for the delay guys, just started a new job. I really do appericate the reviews.
Much Love,
Santiva Potter
