Chapter 4

Arthur found her easily under her full name at a hotel only a few blocks from the club they first saw one another. He over thought how easily this was all done, how easily he could've just found her, how easily he might have overlooked her all this time. They were in the same city at the same time. The odds were completely against any of these chances, Arthur understood like any gambler. He also knew that when the stakes were this high, he just had to take them, which was why he stood in front of the closed white door, barely hesitating when he knocked.

There was no answer, and Arthur wasn't going to give up that easily. Granted, he wasn't invited here, nor did he check if Ariadne was in her room, but having seen her last night, he knew that she would expect him, especially if she hadn't checked out already. The fact that she was here and under her own name had to be a sign.

He knocked again.

"I don't see a reason why I should let you in right now," he heard her muffled voice say through the door. He spotted two dark shadows from her feet beneath the door and her voice was loud enough to tell him that she stood right on the other side.

Arthur stared straight ahead, dipping his chin to hide the smile from the peephole he was sure she was looking through. "Well, you do see me standing out here, and that in itself is a reason."

He saw the two shadows that were her feet step away. She didn't say anything.

"You got to admit that that was a good one," he said to the white door.

"Humble to a fault," she replied a little more testily.

"How about this? Please just let me in?"

There was no response.

He looked up and down the hallway. "Ariadne, please? I just want to talk. That's all."

There was an unbearable silence where he thought that she was going to just leave him there. Then those shadows were back. "You stalk me and expect free entrance into my room? I really don't think that that's fair."

He took this as a good sign. "Yeah, well, I also don't think that it was fair when you left me last night, but who's counting?"

"If we are, then I guess we could also add that you abandoned me two years ago."

He winced at that, thinking how he set himself up for such a stunning blow. He leaned forward, his forehead nearly touching the door. "Ariadne, I really don't want to have this conversation for the entire hallway to hear."

There was still no response, a lengthy silence to the point where Arthur thought that he should just leave, then a small click, a creek, and a large brown eye and her cheek poking through. Her fingers curled against the doorframe. "I want it on record that you're only coming in here because we really can't talk about this in a hallway."

"Fine." His words were a sigh of relief. He made a step inside, but she held the door still in front of her firmly.

"And had subterfuge not been necessary in your case," she added. "I wouldn't be letting you in at all."

He nodded. "Understood. Now?" He looked at her expectantly and she took a step back.

He made his way over to the bed and sat down as she shut her door, facing him. "Feel free to yell all you want now," he said lightly, though he could tell that the jibe didn't go over well. His eyes made a quick assessment of the room. Her bag lay open at the foot of her bed, the clothes gone through. Her dress from last night was on a chair, and her shoes kicked off on the way to the bathroom, where he could make out her cosmetics disorganized on the counter.

He couldn't tell how long she had been there really. The most he could garner was that she at least stayed here last night. Not a big tell.

She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed at his charm. Without the dim lighting of the club and the fast exit he made at the café, he could look at her properly. She wore jeans and another haphazardly loose t-shirt under a scarf, one he didn't know. There were times when he knew her entire scarf collection, when he had favorites, or when he could tell her mood just by her choice, when those said scarves were stored in the very same closet as his own ties.

He bought her a patterned one with feathers on it once, and she wore it all the time, saying that it reminded her of him. She probably threw it away now.

Her hair was longer too, and not as wavy as she used to keep it. It fell in long layers down her back, around her face, and onto her shoulders. Her face was clear, and the more he studied her the more he saw her fidget under his appraisal. He looked away, slightly put off for being caught staring.

"I really have nothing to say to you," she said, still standing before him. "You're the one who found out where I was staying and just came here."

"I wanted to apologize."

"For coming here unannounced?" she asked with that familiar quirk of her eyebrow. "You could easily have done that from out there."

He shook his head at her difficulty. "For everything."

"Why not something with more specificity?" she asked cattily and Arthur couldn't help but smirk at that.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" he asked almost glibly. He saw her rile at his tone. "I'm actually making an effort here."

Ariadne shrugged. "Abandonment issues."

He spread his leg out before him, slightly. "I'm sorry for leaving you two years ago. I'm sorry I never said where I was going, and for staying away longer." He stopped. And an image of her reading that damned letter came to mind. "But if you knew what happened. I didn't mean to stay away so long. I had to make it up—"

"Arthur," she cut in. "You were the one who wanted us to stay clear of all of this, because of Dom and Mal. You were the one who made me stop, why was it different for you?"

And even as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. "Because I handled it before, Ariadne. I knew what I was doing."

Her face crumpled in a gargoyle and she addressed him snippily, slashing him with small words and small actions. "Yes because having to stay away from your ex-fiancée for two years because you're a wanted criminal is a clear sign that you knew what you were doing," she said with a scoff. As he arms crossed over her chest, he looked at her hands. He didn't need confirmation to know that it wasn't there. It wasn't there last night.

"What did you do with the ring by the way?" he asked, unable to hide the snark, saccharine tone in his voice that came up from her obvious disdain for him.

She considered her arms crossed in front of her chest when she replied, "It's at the bottom of the Seine." She took he right hand to be on top this time.

He considered this though a hopeful, then constricting feeling took over. "That's fair."

"It wouldn't matter if it were or not, Arthur," she snapped, and Arthur flinched a little at her callousness. She licked her bottom lip, a habit he remembered for when she felt self-conscious or annoyed. "Are we done now?"

Arthur shook off this unfortunate, cold question. "No. Ariadne." He stood up. "I've been waiting for this opportunity for years. I'm not just going to let you leave now, even if you want me to."

She sighed, rolling her eyes freely in front of him. "What else do you want to hear then, Arthur?"

"Are you in extraction?"

There was a stunned silence in the room at that. He knew the question would take her off guard, so he studied her closely when he said it, specifically at the way her eyes widened suddenly, a giveaway at guilt.

Then her lips pursed, letting him know that she carefully considered her next action, before they curved up into a smile, surprising him completely. "You've thought this out, clearly," she replied with this Cheshire cat attitude that Arthur had no way of attributing.

"Are you in extraction?" he asked again, a little unsure from her response. He knew her. He knew that Ariadne couldn't lie properly, that her own sense of guilt and morals tended to show on her face, but this sly response took him off guard. "I saw you at the café with Micah. It can't be a coincidence that I saw you with my mark, and that Eames is nowhere to be heard from. He claims Egypt but a lot of accounts aren't lining up."

"You asked me this last night, Arthur," she reminded him calmly. "But no," she said, a little miffed. She looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not."

He studied her, before his face broke. "I'm sorry. I just thought—" he hesitated. "You really hate at me don't you?" he asked. It was almost a joke to alleviate the moment, but it was also a passive aggressive jibe. A drowning man's attempt at levity.

"You left without telling me two years ago. I think I have a reason why I should hate you."

He took a step towards her, looking at her clear face and large eyes, remembering that there was a time when he did this and didn't feel her stiffen away from him. She didn't take a step away from him, but he sensed her awareness of his presence. Her eyes darted towards their feet and she licked her bottom lip again. He angled his face in thought. "No, this is different. There's something you're not telling me, I can see it." He studied her more closely, as he took a step away from her.

The pull towards her was like memory lane. His body realized what it was doing and realized how much it enjoyed doing so in the past. His hands in her hair. His fingers on her shoulder. Arthur never understood just how many times a day he would touch Ariadne—playing, comforting, wanting—only until he couldn't anymore.

And while a part of him knew that he lost that right, the minute he even considered leaving her, his body had no sense of logic or manners apparently, because he kept towards her in a maddening, selfish way.

He could see the play of fear on her face. She didn't trust him.

A sudden buzz cut through the room, and they both looked at the source. Arthur pulled out his mobile to read it. He looked up from reading the text message, his demeanor immediately changed. That sudden fission from the room gone. "I'm sorry. I have to—I'm working," he said, apologetically, understanding that the timing of Trevor's text wasn't opportune.

Ariadne shrugged as if she knew all along. She looked more relaxed than before. Her tight-lipped smile was bittersweet. "You always are."

"Ariadne," he coaxed. He looked at his phone, then at her expression. "I'm sorry. How long are you staying? We should meet up." He knew he was acting out, talking too fast, his usual cool shot from the panic seeping in. She'd be gone in the morning, he knew.

She might have been so easy to find tonight, but who was to say that she didn't regret leaving her tracks? Her eyes remained stone cold as he continued to slightly flail before her.

He went around her towards the door. "I really have to go," he repeated.

"Go."

He took a good long look at her, seeing her unwavering expression, her blocked stance, and he went back to her. Those few steps made so easily. It was the direction he wanted to be headed all along.

She looked taken aback by this impulse, but she didn't move when his eyes grazed over her, soaking the very image of her up, because he had no faith in what he was doing. "Will you wait? Just until morning." He peaked up at her, his chin bowed down, "please?"

He focused right into her eyes, looking at her, pulling a promise he knew that were just words when she agreed. "You need to go Arthur," she reminded him coolly.

He nodded then set out.

xxxxx

Arthur, dressed in a smart black tux, his hair slicked back, he loitered at the edges of the dance floor, watching the formally dressed couples circle to the light music playing by the quartet nearby. In his hand he held a full champagne flute and his other was tucked in his pocket as he searched the crowd for familiar faces.

Trevor should be here, he knew. He also knew that Micah was somewhere. It was his father's home after all. He looked at the floor length windows, the marbled columns, everything done in the exact specifications of his research.

He looked at the faces on the dance floor again and stopped. There. There he was, dancing with one of the girls, smiling. That was good. It meant he didn't sense anything, that he didn't know that anything was amiss. Only—

The couple turned suddenly and Arthur frowned. He downed the champagne quickly and placed it on a passing waiter's tray, before circling for a better view, past the other projections.

The brown hair—much longer than he knew but remembered to have been changed, the clear face, the pink lips kept in a tight smile, and the wide brown eyes: it couldn't be happening again. He thought he had in under control, but seeing her again must've started it over.

The song over, Arthur followed them with his eyes as Micah left her at the edge of the dance floor, off to get refreshments, and Arthur made his move, walking up to her. He liked to confront her head on in dreams.

It was funny. He started to understand why Cobb did it with Mal now. Almost savoring memories as he took her in.

She was made up in a navy dress that hugged her closely around the waist and bust. The skirt was full and elegantly draped to the floor. He made her elegant, much more elegant than she traditionally was, but he tended to make her blend in with the dream.

He kept his eyes focused on the creamy base of her bare neck, a rarity for her and a favorite of his. He always loved her neck. Maybe because she always hid it with scarves.

"By the looks of it," he said, watching her neck arch slightly as she turned this way, then that, slightly nervous jump, "you expected me to see you here." He looked at the small silver chain on her neck, and apparently feeling him stare, she laid a carefully careless hand on top of the charm.

He had never seen that necklace before. He never put it on her. But how this Ariadne held it, it was different. He took a step forward to get a better look

This Ariadne met him head on and smiled that familiar antagonizing smirk he came to see was reserved for him. "Arthur." Her voice was challenging.

He sidled up to her, already antagonizing. "What are you doing here?" Arthur reached into his pocket and touched the loaded die sitting in there, waiting. His beliefs confirmed, he reached for her elbow with his other, and she slyly pulled away, taking a step to face the dancefloor instead.

"This is elegant," she said, playing with the end of her long necklace.

Arthur turned too. "What are you doing here, Ariadne?" he asked, a little weary.

It was because he ran into her again. He had it all under control, but now, his subconscious was just spilling over with her. Through his periphery, he started to compare his version to the one he remembered from the hotel this evening. Small things were there. She looked genuinely the same, but there wasn't that idealism, that lightheartedness that he loved about her.

His shade always seemed controlled and manipulating. She always played aloof and would screw him over.

"I'm keeping you company," she said simply. Her smile was beguiling but flat to anything deeper. It wasn't the same one that she would have when she made puns or tried to teach him French. It wasn't the same one she'd have when he'd wake up and just see her staring at him. She had that smile on.

"You need to stop doing that," he'd say with a groan, closing his eyes again. She hated sleep, ironically. She loved the morning. She always wanted him to wake up so they could go somewhere.

He felt the bed shift as she edged closer to him, her arms tucked under her chest as she rested her chin on her folded hands. "Arthur, I want breakfast."

Arthur kept his eyes closed as he replied. "And I want to sleep. It's funny how that works out."

He heard her loud sigh and felt the bed shift again, this time, he felt her lean forward. Her lips pressed against his chin and her hands curled around his neck, and he his body responded automatically to her touch.

"Please," she said, dropping another kiss against his neck. "Crepes. That's all I ask."

"Are you seriously using your wiles for breakfast?" he asked, blinking awake to take a more active participant, angling his lips to meet hers.

When she pulled away, he vaguely heard her say something about this being a good compromise as well, as she pulled him closer against her that damnable smile still on her face.

Arthur looked at the shade next to him and turned to face her fully. "You need to leave, Ariadne. I can't have you screwing this up like last time."

There was a flicker of intrigue as he said this and Ariadne pursed her lips in thought. "I don't know, Micah Roebuch seems to enjoy my company," she informed him archly, taking a step in Micah's wake.

Arthur sighed. He couldn't let her ruin this job again. Extraction from the same company twice was already risky as hell. He at least owed it to Trevor to make this right. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back towards him, surprised, she gave a small yelp as she staggered back.

His eyes widened with realization.

That bit of contact, that reaction was enough. He looked at where his hand stuck to her skin as if he was welded right onto her.

Ariadne in his dreams, though wanting her to be the Ariadne this whole time, was never like this. She was always enticing him. She was always antagonizing. He looked at where their skin just met briefly. Her tense stance. "You're real," he whispered. He could feel her presence; feel how different it was than before, than any of those other times. He made a grab at her hand, but she pulled it away again, her eyes burning with anger.

"Arthur," she said, her voice a warning this time.

His eyes turned bitter towards her. "I knew it."

She inclined her head to whisper back. "What are you talking about?"

"You can cut the shit already, Ariadne. I know it's you. It's really you." His harsh words sounded worse in his own ears as he felt anger hit him and his blood starting pounding in his ears. "You're real. You're here."

There was a beat of silence as they took each other in, and Arthur felt betrayed and near boiling as he thought about their past conversations, how she treated him, how she made him feel guilty for even assuming.

"Arthur?"

That jolted him out of his calculating thoughts, and he looked at her face as she assessed everyone around them. Ariadne looked around quickly, before grabbing his hand and leading him through a row of columns behind them and then towards an empty hallway lined with ceiling high windows. They could hardly see the party now or hear any of the wealthy guests in the ballroom. "What are you talking about?"

"Ariadne, I know," he insisted, and again she led him to a room off to the side and he followed her through. She turned to face him. "You're real."

xxxxx

A/N: dun, dun, dunnn! Thank you to Lauraax, Lazarus76, Audrey, and MusicIsMyHeroine for taking their time to review. You guys keep me going and happy! And huge thanks to the followers and favoriters out there! I've been doing a ton of rewrites at the moment, so it's always really great to see people are interested. Thanks and please review!

Stay tuned to see exactly what Ariadne has up her sleeve.