A cacophony of gunfire brought her to the brink of consciousness. She heard the hushed murmur of voices and distant shouting before her surroundings were again filled with sputtering gunfire.
When opening her eyes and moving her arms proved futile, Ariadne felt panic spread through her body like poison. Ariadne fought back the warm and dark current of sleep that was pulling at the edges of her mind tried to focus on the faint blue hue clouding the lids of her eyes (dawn or dusk, she wasn't sure).
Another round of fire, this time much louder.
"Where's that bloody transport?"
She distinguished Eames' voice, sounding terse.
A window shattered nearby and Ariadne flinched as a sprinkling of glass brushed her face. Someone pulled her off of what Ariadne realized was a bed and positioned her on the ground. As she was lifted away, her sore muscles screamed in protest and Ariadne's matted hair clung to her neck. How long had she been in this place? Why couldn't she wake up?
"Five minutes," she heard after another wave of bullets. Arthur's voice rumbled next to her shoulder, and she heard the distinct sound of a clip being loaded into a gun. "Start moving out."
Ariadne redoubled her efforts to open her eyes.
She felt a warm hand encircle her ankle before giving her a firm jerk and Ariadne gasped, the sensation of falling like a hit to her stomach. She still couldn't open her eyes.
"Ariadne," Arthur said loudly above her, and Ariadne heard him snap his fingers just inches from her nose in rapid succession. "Ariadne, it's time to leave, wake up."
Ariadne strained to comply and managed to open her eyes just enough to make out Arthur's tall figure against the dimming light. She mouthed his name before her eyelids were pulled close again. A small object was slipped into her hand, and Ariadne felt Arthur close her fingers around it to form a tight fist.
"All right," he said shortly. "Get her out."
Ariadne forced her eyes to a half open as Eames hoisted her into his arms. She followed Arthur as he approached the window and crouched down before firing a few bullets out of the window. He wasn't coming with them.
"Arthur," she croaked, but her voice was drowned in gunfire. She tried to push away from Eames but found herself totally numb against him.
"Decided to rejoin the living, have we?" Eames chirped as he wheeled out of the room and made for the stairway. Ariadne felt a wave of nausea sweep over her as she realized they were in Dimitriev's apartment building. The same one she where she had fallen asleep. Were they-
"Dream?" she whispered hoarsely, mustering her strength to peer up at Eames.
"You tell me," Eames responded as he kicked in a door at the base of the stairs and exited to the street. A stinging cold dropped down on her and Ariadne felt snowflakes catch in her eyelashes. Winter? How could that be? It was still spring -
Her fist clenched the small object in her hand, and Ariadne felt the reassuring curves of her bishop press into her palm. Its shape and weight tailor fit to reality. Another wave of exhaustion rolled over her.
Ariadne's head rolled back against Eames just as he broke into a steady run.
When she came to, someone was rearranging her limbs.
There was a small lamp swinging over her head. Ariadne scrunched her forehead, squinting up at a blurry silhouette as it expertly threaded an IV tube above her. Ariadne glanced down and saw the needle in her arm just as her caretaker propped her head back onto a pillow. Ariadne looked around and realized she was in the back of a moving vehicle.
"Ariadne?" a calm voice called her name a warm hand touched her forehead. Ariadne winced, peering past the light.
"Yusuf?" she murmured, blinking slowly.
"Yes, good. I see that you can ball your fist," Yusuf said smilingly, squeezing her balled up hand gently. "That's a good start." Ariadne squeezed the bishop in her palm before swallowing.
"Where am I?"
She heard him give the IV bag a flick before picking up her wrist. Yusuf put a finger over her pulse for a moment before putting her arm back down to her side.
"We're taking you to a safehouse in the countryside. Just until things calm down a bit. How do you feel?" Yusuf asked quickly.
"Like I'm going to throw up," Ariadne moaned.
"Not in the car, if you please," she heard Eames call out sternly from the driver's seat.
"The nausea should wear off in a few hours," Yusuf said, ignoring Eames. "Can you lift your wrist?"
Ariadne gave him a small nod and summoned the energy to raise her arm a few inches. Soon, it began to violently shake from the effort and she dropped it with an exasperated exhale.
"What's wrong with me?" She asked him weakly.
"Let's talk about that later. You did very well," Yusuf comforted her as he layered another blanket on her and clicked off the light. "Everything is going to be all right, Ariadne. You need time to regain your strength. We should be at our destination in a few hours. Try to rest."
He squeezed her shoulder and climbed into the seat next to Eames. The two began conversing lowly and their voices reached Ariadne as mere murmurs. With the light now off, Ariadne could see the flurry of snow passing over the car as they rolled toward their destination. Arthur was not with them, nor did she suspect that she would be crossing paths with him again. Why had he not joined them? Where was he? What could he be doing?
"Where's Arthur?" she asked, suddenly feeling alert.
Save for the sound of the tires against the road, the car was silent.
"Don't worry," Eames answered, the smile in his voice carrying. "We haven't seen the last of our dear point-man."
She drifted off, feeling the listless undertow of sleep drag her down again. They were still driving when the sounds of a hushed argument roused Ariadne from a deep and dreamless sleep.
"We need to know where things stand."
"It's too soon," she heard Yusuf say urgently. "We just started countering the sedative and we still don't know what the residual effects are. The somnacin could cause irreparable damage-"
"If things start to look ugly, you can step in. It won't take long."
A long, drawn out pause followed.
"This is a bad idea, Eames."
"It's not my call, darling."
Disconnected and still dazed, Ariadne dropped off once again into unconsciousness.
She gazed up at the River Hotel, a small smile on her lips as a throng of people pushed past her. The wind barrelled down the canyon of skyscrapers. Even as her hair whipped around her, and the sky grew dark with clouds, Ariadne smiled. The hotel was back on the Chicago River where it belonged.
Ariadne turned easily as Arthur approached, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder.
"How does it look?"
Ariadne paused as she carefully surveyed the hotel.
"Fine, I think. Just one more thing I need to check."
Together, they walked through the crowds of people down to the Navy Pier. Ariadne felt a surge of confidence as she took Arthur's hand in hers. He smiled at her, his eyes squinting in delight. Soon, they arrived at the lakefront and Ariadne extended her arm and pointed to the top of the building with copper curves.
"Lakefront Point, back on the Michigan," Ariadne nodded with satisfaction. She turned to Arthur with a relaxed smile and he stepped toward her, an easy smile gracing his lips.
"Well?" he asked, catching her chin with his finger. "Everything in its rightful place?"
He was leaning down toward her, his sharp brown eyes relentlessly boring into her own. She felt his finger on her skin like a brand, and Ariadne released a small and sharp exhale as she nodded.
"Perfect," she breathed, her grin widening. "Everything is perfect."
Something swept across her neck.
Ariadne staggered back, her hands instinctively covering her neck. Arthur looked back at her blankly as he dropped the bloody knife to the ground. Ariadne stumbled and tripped to the ground, her hands stained red. He began to amble toward her and Ariadne felt the life draining from her as she watched his predatory approach through glassy eyes. Around her, a swarm of people carried on, some of them sending Ariadne curious glances as she bled out on the pier.
"Wrong," he said as he lifted a gun from his hip and aimed it squarely between her eyes.
Ariadne shot awake, her hands clutching her neck. She went for the IV tube in the crook of her elbow just as Yusuf descended on her.
"Easy, Ariadne. Please, let me get that for you," he rushed, gently easing her back onto her pillow. "Just breathe," he murmured as he began dialing the PASIV machine next to her and removed the needle from her arm.
Gasping, Ariadne took inventory of her surroundings. She was nestled into a large bed and someone had put a few sweaters over her. The rustic and sparsely decorated room was illuminated by the furiously falling snow. Her hair was matted to the back of her neck, and she felt the heat of a fever hit her full force as she watched Eames rise from a chair and move into the kitchen.
It was him - Eames was in her dream, wearing Arthur's face. Ariadne looked to Yusuf incredulously and he looked away quickly.
"Sorry," he said softly.
Through the doorway, she could see Eames pouring coffee.
"What the hell was that?" Ariadne demanded, moving the heavy set of blankets off of her lap. Yusuf pushed her back down, muttering for her to take it easy. Suddenly feeling much stronger, Ariadne pushed him away and managed to stand up next to the bed without leaning on her colleague for support. In the kitchen, Eames set down the cup of coffee and began pouring another one.
"Eames," Ariadne repeated strictly. "What the hell was that?"
"A follow-up extraction, darling," Eames responded coldly. "A test."
Stunned, Ariadne fell back to the bed.
"In case you're wondering," Eames continued as he filled the third and final cup with coffee. "You failed. Almost as miserably as you did six months ago."