Chapter 3: The Walls come Tumbling Down
A/N: So as a review pointed out, I accidentally referred to Eames as the Forager, not the Forger! Damn reliance on spell check, that didn't even occur to me as I read over the chapter for proofing it. Sorry about that!
Stomach relaxers, flu remedies... anything and everything she could reasonably get.
A subtle black purse was next, to replace her now too flashy red one. The red one was cute, she'd miss it.
The little sundry store had everything.
She'd kept a few pieces from her former life, namely, her event planner. Every time she looked at it, it reminded her that she might have something to go back to. There was a small amount of sick satisfaction when she looked at the tests she wouldn't be taking, even though she knew it would hurt her grades. Miles would cut her some slack, that much she knew.
She flipped through the pages thoughtfully. Coffee here, study date there, a tryst with Arthur the weekend after next.
The numbers looked odd to her after a minute. Flipping back a few pages, she traced down the dates with her index finger. Then, she flipped forward and regarded the book.
"Oh god."
He knocked louder. Still nothing.
Arthur leaned down and peered in through the keyhole. He could make out very little from that vantage point, and found it to be a rather
Reaching into his pocket, looking around as he did so, he plucked out the spare key that she'd given him awhile ago. Dom would kill him if he knew the point man had that little piece of carved metal.
Slipping inside quickly, he closed the door behind him without a sound. His coat swirled around his body.
Something was wrong here, he could feel it. The place was even more disorganized than usual, except for a few selectively placed items on the coffee table. Her license, anything with a bar code or tracking device in it; all lined up next to each other as if for inspection. There was a note under her cell phone.
His eyes traced the letters, obviously written fast, or under duress. When the message sunk in, his analytical skills ground to a halt and he just stood there. Arthur read it again, and again.
Not for one second did he doubt that she loved him.
Looking up, the point man sighed, "I suppose you're the reason for this?"
"Correct."
Arthur hit the floor and a pillow exploded in a shower of feathers. The gunshot had alerted the neighbors, the nearest police station was 10-15 minutes away. The clock was ticking on him to find out what this man knew.
He yanked his gun from underneath his jacket and lined up his shot. Right arm, forearm.
The second gun blast rang out, and the hitman dropped his weapon, clutching the broken limb, "Damnit!"
Scrambling to his feet, Arthur kicked the man back against the wall.
Not about to go easily, the hitman began to fumble in his pocket for something and quickly put the item in his mouth. Arthur connected with a fist right to his stomach and the pill came flying out.
Poison pill.
"You didn't think you were the first to try that on me, did you?"
The hitman was silent, staring at him.
"By the way, you're really bad at your job."
The butt of Arthur's gun connected with the man's head and the brutal force of it knocked him into unconsciousness. He closed the front door and locked it. Ariadnes' scarves, still hanging on the door hooks, made for quick ties for the hands and feet. She'd kill him if she saw him doing that.
Dragging the body over to the window, Arthur pulled open the glass panels and threw the man onto the fire escape. He knew he was risking being seen out of personal windows, but it was a fair guess that the police wouldn't be able to.
Something in him was very grateful that hitmen weren't the huge hulking brutes from the movies, and that her fire escape was the kind installed between two buildings after the fact. It was slow going, slower than he wanted, but he kept at it. If nothing else, he was happy that the hitman would wake up covered in bruises.
She was trying to remember what had happened two months ago. Everything was a glossed over blur of image and sensation. They met in Paris for the weekend, with her absolutely determined to loosen the knot in his tie.
The taste of the wine; a sweet, fruit-filled dessert variety. How many glasses had it been? Surprisingly, he had more than a few himself. His wine had been drier, more refined than hers, she remembered wrinkling her nose when she tried it.
They finished the restaurant evening with a glass of something exotic, something she'd only tried once before and he found over-hyped, though tasteful. Doubs Mystique; it was a taste they acquired together.
It must have been that last little push of proof that had done it.
With his guard down even slightly, he pushed her up against the wall, holding her there with this body. They kissed, deeply, with his hands gripping the backs of her thighs.
She didn't even remember if she'd remembered to lock the door.
Some part of her recalled begging him to take her into the bedroom, or just take her, she didn't know which.
He had complied, of that she was certain. The next hour or so was spent lying on bed sheets, her exposed skin chilled while the skin he touched fairly burned. Lips found their way across every sensitive part of her, intimates parts that only he was allowed to see; to feel. He professed his love while his tongue and fingers worshiped every inch of her.
She returned the favor in kind, and was rewarded by seeing every muscle in his body tense and flex. That image stood out vividly.
Past the first touches, her mind went blurry. Everything devolved into a sensory overload of thrusts, rocking hips, and the beads of sweat that fell from one lover's body to the other's.
She wasn't sure if she had the alcohol to blame, or their general mutual foolishness.
The next morning when she'd woke, and dragged herself groggily in a post-bliss haze to the bathroom; that was when she had noticed it. She forgot so many things.
She forgot before, and she must have suppressed the jolt after otherwise she would have thought about it since.
Standing there in the sundry shop, she felt like the girl everyone was staring at, someone who had just done something incredibly stupid.
The question of why almost outranked the elephant in the room. The giant elephant that was threatening to trample her under these particular circumstances.
Arthur pulled the man into the next building and kicked open the grate. He shoved the man down into the basement and jumped in after. He'd been scouting secondary safe houses next to where she lived should this occur, and while this one wasn't up to par, it would have to do. An abandoned maintenance tunnel that had been blocked off for safety reasons.
His phone was out in a minute, Dom picked up on the second ring, "Hello?"
"Hey Dom, it's Arthur."
"You in Paris?"
"Yes, in Paris and already racking up assault charges."
"What's going on?"
"Ariadne's on the run, apparently, somebody scared her off."
"And I'm guessing you've already gotten your hands on that somebody?"
"Two bit hitmen, you have to love them."
"Eames and I will be there as soon as we can." Dom sighed, "In the meantime, try to get as much information out of him as you can."
"I don't have the PASIV device."
"I meant the old fashioned way."
On the ground, the hitman moaned, waking up.
"Fine. Bring me a change of clothes then."
The conversation ended, and Arthur put his phone back in his pocket. He peeled off his jacket and set it aside, rolling up his sleeves before returning to the bound man. Kneeling in front of him, Arthur rested his elbows on his legs.
"Now, I'm not one for getting my suit dirty, I kind of believe that the clothes make the man. This puts me in a bit of trouble, because you've hurt someone who is very close to me. Unfortunately for you, I can't perform dream extraction, so you can either tell me what I want to know, or I can start working on you in a more, physical, sense."
The hitman looked up at him with a clenched and bruising jaw, "What's that have to do with your goddamn jacket, pretty boy?"
"The longer I have to be 'physical,' the more blood might get on it."
The man was defiant, "Well, let's see just how rough you can get."
Arthur cracked his knuckles and grinned, he didn't get to play the bad guy very much, and truth be told, he wasn't a vicious person. However, where his lover was concerned, he needed some answers.
By the time Dom and Eames arrived at the secondary safe house, it was the dead middle of the night. All around them, the city glowed and Eames gave a wistful sigh, "I do hate to spoil such a beautiful evening with torture.
Cobb rolled his eyes and jumped down into the enclosed area with Eames right behind him.
There was only one light, dim and swinging from the ceiling. The point man was cleaning his hands on his jacket begrudgingly while a moaning man lay tied up in the corner.
"What do we know?"
"He has arachnophobia." Arthur smirked.
Eames chuckled, "Well look at that, Arthur made a joke."
"What else?"
"He's from Cobol Engineering, standard level hitman. Judging by what I know about Cobol, he's not alone. They usually work in teams of three or four."
"Yeah."
"He's admitted to one other person, but it seems he operates like us. He doesn't know who the others are really."
"From the looks of you, I'm going to guess that our little Ariadne is still safe and sound somewhere?" Eames popped a tidbit of food in his mouth, leftover peanuts from the airplane.
"Not exactly. Seems he's got her on the run. The other hitmen are following her, hoping we'll come to her, or her to us."
"They don't want to kill her?"
"Nope, standard Cobol practices. They want us first, and then they'll go for her and probably Yusuf. Saito would be too hard to get."
The hitman laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing."
"Eames, call Yusuf, tell him to get stateside."
"Right." The Brit pulled out his cell phone and dialed to the little sedative shop.
"Hello? I need to speak with Yusuf."
Arthur and Dom stared at each other.
"What?" Eames turned towards them, "Are you sure?" He paced a bit, listening, "Alright then, thank you I guess."
"What's going on?"
"He's been missing for at least three weeks. The man who runs the little sleepytime operation in the basement said there were signs of a struggle, but no blood."
"Maybe he's still alive."
"It's possible, they want us first, took him as bait."
"They picked pretty slim bait then, mates. Yusuf was only with us for one job, they didn't know if we'd come after him."
"But they knew I'd go after her."
"'Fraid so, darling."
"Why not just kidnap her?" Dom looked confused, staring down at the hitman.
He laughed again, and the extractor hauled him up bodily by his shirt collar, "What's going on?"
"Just a little added distraction, that's all." The hitman kept laughing.
Ariadne sat on the floor of her hotel room bath. She had never been one to cry, it wasn't a very adequate solution to any problem.
However, at this moment, she couldn't stop the tears from sliding down her cheeks.
Of all the things she could have forgotten; it couldn't have been a minor class assignment?
Instead, the unopened box she forgot mocked her all the way from her abandoned apartment. On the counter, next to the tiny, still-wrapped soaps and miniature hair care bottles, the truth was right in the room with her.
Three different brands, two apiece, and six consistent results.
She was a perfectionist, what could she say?
Brushing away the tears, she stared at the tiled wall before her. In seven months she'd have to find somewhere secure. In seven months she'd have to look down at a tiny life she would be responsible for and wonder if Arthur would ever get to meet their child.