Thanksies! Lauraa-x: aww because you ship them. Duh. I think anyone would be creeped out. Tyler's just a friend. Not saying that couldn't change but for now its platonic. Just wanted to worry Arthur for a hot second. Yeah, you're right. I think Miles and Arthur's relationship will slowly go down the tubes. And because of that perhaps Dom and Arthur's. They're both really worried about him but angry at him for pursuing it. Thanks for weighing in! The Pink Archer: Sweet, thanks! I'm trying to do an even blend. Lol. Neverlandspirit: Yay! Glad I've got someone hooked! Only three chapters in and Arthur's toeing the line of crazy. Can't wait til you guys get further into this with me and the characters. There's a little flashback fluff in this chappie for ya! Guest: Thanks so much =) whatshername76: We'll see…it's going to be a messed up, difficult situation, I think. But its Arthur and Ari…so…and I think his stalkiness will reduce. Now that he gets to spend time with her one on one, he doesn't have to scrounge and sneak around to get his fix of Ariadne so no more window watching. (Thank God.)
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Chapter 4: Again Today
Because I'm your hero and your my weakness
Who's gonna break my fall when the spin starts
The colors bleed together and fade
Was it ever there at all?
—Brandi Carlile
"Sort of like a clock, correct," said Arthur with fingers hovering over the buttons on either side of the clock. "Left to bring the time up, right to bring the time down, both to set it." Ariadne nodded by his shoulder. The contraption's functions (to put people to sleep and bring them into the same subconscious space) still seemed far-fetched to Ariadne having not seen it work with her own eyes. But it was still fascinating…like a gadget for international spy incorporations. Like she'd stepped into a James Bond movie. Especially so with Arthur standing there: crisp suit, gelled hair, smelling of cologne and something spicy like cinnamon with an expression of concentration and—what was the word? Aplomb. He was fluent in the language of dream share and his fancy way of speaking was so dignified that every time he spoke, the rest of the world hushed and she was glued to his enthralling knowledge of the business. Then again, the world was already hushed. The warehouse drowned out all city noise to a point of deafening silence besides their voices and the hum of the device. (But Ariadne was a fan of romanticizing things so she'd stick with her version.) "Would you like to set it for one minute?"
"One minute?" said the Architect while stepping up to the plate (literally) and as he stepped to the side. She'd trust him because he was the expert but, "It's that easy that you can explain it all that quick?"
Arthur shook his head, "One minute translates to twelve minutes in the dream. When you're under the time is compounded. We're just getting a quick look at a shared dream first." Just like that it was set with a shrug of her shoulders, "Oh, I guess that makes sense." Ever the gentleman, Arthur moved the PASIV to a small table between to lawn chairs and angled hers closer so she wouldn't have to walk so far. (In this case he saved her what? One of three steps?) The woman situated herself comfortably as Arthur uncoiled the tubes and handed her an alcohol pad, "Wipe down the area you'll be inserting the cannula. So," the slight outstretch of his hand and questioning eyes asked for her permission to touch.
Eager to get on with the lesson and see the phenomenon for herself, she placed her forearm in his hands. Arthur pulled her hand back to stretch the skin of her wrist and reveal the outline of her veins. He spotted the two near the middle easily and ran his thumb between them down the length they showed, "either of these veins here will be the easiest."
"You have so many little welts." They sit together in the bathtub, Ariadne's back against his chest. It was a particularly grueling day including extraction gone awry, quick getaways, a shoot off, a last minute flight out of the country and bunkering down in this hotel room. Neither of them received any more than an odd bruise here and there and the cut on Arthur's cheek where the skin had split from a punch. Definitely not the worst injuries they've had. But the thought of being chased and the instinct to protect Ariadne makes Arthur insistent on being with her every moment until he's sure the threat is gone. Ariadne doesn't mind this time, she tells him he's comfy. His lips rest on her shoulder less than they kiss it while he studies her wrist, "Why don't you put the needle in the same spot every time?" he asks and his lips go right back to their spot.
"Because it hurts worse than putting it somewhere else." Her toes point so she can graze his inner ankle with them.
Arthur teases, "You said you can barely feel it."
She sighs and the truth comes out, "I was trying to see if I could make an 'A'."
The Point Man can't control his laugh. It reverberates off the tile walls and fake porcelain tub. It makes her body bounce off of his. "Only you." He only makes an effort to quiet when she hits his face with the loofa. He bites the inside of his cheeks though she can still feel him chuckling so he's not fooling anyone. He kisses her wrist and asks jokingly, "'A' as in the initial of the man you love most in the world?"
Ariadne scoffs, "Eames doesn't start with an 'A'."
Arthur pinches her sides, "That's not funny," but the eruption of her laughter and the frantic splashes as he tickles her make it seem otherwise.
It wasn't until Ariadne cleared her throat, face slightly pink, that Arthur realized he'd been rubbing reverent circles on her wrist for however long he'd been daydreaming. She looked a little stunned. A little weirded out. Arthur pulled back like lightning, "I'm sorry. My mind wandered off and I didn't realize—" Already, he was wiping off his forearm and inserting his lead to avoid her stare.
"It's all good. I space out a lot too." Arthur peeked up at her and noticed she was working hard to avoid his stare as well. It didn't take that much hardcore concentration to uncoil the tubing. She winced when the needle went in but there was no more fuss than that. By the time he asked if she was ready the awkward moment had rolled off her shoulders. So he pressed the button and they took a plunge.
Xxxxxxx
Ariadne sat on a bench in the park behind the Eiffel, drawing some sketch due for her three thirty class on Monday. "Is this seat taken?" Mr. Nolan appeared next to the bench and gracefully planted himself beside her. Oh yeah, was she supposed to meet him here? They were supposed to trial a dream before she made her decision.
"Hi," she quickly packed her notebook and pencils away in her messenger. "Sorry, I got carried away with homework." In the back of her mind she remembered they agreed to meet up at some warehouse. It definitely slipped her mind. How unprofessional and embarrassing that Arthur had to come hunt her down.
Arthur was smiling peculiarly at her, "No worries." He knew something she didn't and apparently it was incredibly amusing. Was he making fun of her for getting swept up in drawing? To make him stop taunting her with his eyes, she urged, "I'm ready to start when you are."
And his eyebrows lifted in an infuriatingly playful way, "We've already started." Ariadne glared at him suspiciously to which his response was the spry question: "How long have you been doing homework?"
The Architect's eyes fell downcast. Her mouth opened once, twice. She checked her watch. "A long time…? So long I don't really remember—"
"What were you doing before this? Before the park?"
"I was—" Why on earth couldn't she remember anything before that sketch in her book? Where had she been? What all had she done that day? Got up, did some laundry, visited the bakery, met Mr. Nolan at the—wait a second. "We were—" Ariadne remembered blocky red letters and a silver suitcase filled with vials of clear fluid. There was a faint sting in her left wrist. Ariadne lifted it to find it bare but she could've sworn she pricked it sometime recent. She glanced up at the sky then at Arthur, "We're dreaming, aren't we?"
"Good girl," he commented. Proud. "Want to explore?"
They strolled in the park. Arthur was very patient with the novice. He let her take things in at her own speed, let her stop and analyze flowers or feel the grass, or stare at the tower in the background with scrutiny. "I was wrong about detail."
Arthur fiddled with the color of green in the leaves of the tree above them, "How so?"
"I thought it wouldn't feel real without an abundance of it. But it really isn't about detail; it's about how the dream feels. And," she took a deep breath of the crisp air and watched a jogger and his dog breeze past, some tourists snapping pictures in the distance, "It feels like home. Like Paris."
The timer woke them and Arthur offered to let Ariadne be the dreamer. To let her feel the power of creation. They spent a total of ten minutes real-time hooked to the PASIV. Just like his Ariadne, she was a natural. She caught onto the dynamics of it all without trouble. And she built and bent and shaped the dreamscapes to her will with raises of her brows and twitches of her fingers. She was every bit a genius; like Einstein, Monet, Picasso, Mozart, all the greats. To watch her dream was to witness miracles. Arthur often found himself slack jawed by her talent and found his sense of reality rocked by how unearthly her resemblance to the dream girl was. The more enthralled she became, the more regret Arthur felt from basically forcing her into it. What was he doing? He was interfering in her decision just as Miles and Claude had. He wanted to take her into this dream before she came to a verdict because if she was anything like his projection of her, once he wet her appetite with pure creation, she wouldn't be able to say no. Easy.
It was easy to spiral into self-hatred again as he strolled alongside Ariadne, witnessing her brilliance. It was easy to be repulsed by the way he was acting. He hated Saito and his men for making him this way. For making him crazed about a plain student from Paris. A no-nothing little girl who strutted around, drawing skyscrapers and consuming too much bread for her metabolism to be able to burn off. He'd been wondering why. Searching for answers about why this meant so much to him…and realized that it was their doing. It wasn't a side effect of being lost. It was the reason they got him lost. Arthur could handle torture; he was mentally sound, he'd been put through anything and everything. He was untouchable because he cared for no one. So Saito went in and took that away from him as a form of vengeance. No longer was he the evading, sharp as a tack, work-centered, Point Man because all he had was put into the mystery of this freakin' architect. Arthur was making a fool of himself in front of all his colleagues and former mentor…what would Cobb say when he walked into the warehouse Monday morning and saw Ariadne there ready to begin her training? He signed his Extractor on without telling him who else he had in mind for the team. Deep down he knew his friend would reprimand him and talk him out of approaching Ariadne…so he didn't run any ideas by him.
Ariadne woke with a spark in her eyes and fire in her belly. The girl loved it. Relished it. Reveled in it. If not for having to meet up with her friend Clarisse for her birthday dinner, she would've done it all night. She thanked Mr. Nolan (with another handshake) for the opportunity and left entranced. The Point Man should've been thrilled that it had the effect he predicted. That his chances of Ariadne taking this job went up about eighty percent.
He surprisingly wasn't.
xxxxxx
Three pounds sounded on his door. After looking through the peephole first, the door opened with its occupant looking tired and bored. Arthur was in the middle of ordering room service and had to rush through the phone call to answer. His irritancy was rectified when Cobb hissed, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Arthur looked down at himself, puzzled. The blonde pushed his way into the room and slammed the door, "You're dragging that innocent girl into Dreamshare just to fulfill some fantasy of yours?" The older man out of the two must've been updated by Stephen. (He was. Ariadne enthusiastically called Miles on the way home and divulged the entire experience to him. Upset and not knowing how else to approach Arthur, Stephen called Dom and asked him to try talking sense into the boy. To add insult to injury, this was how Cobb was informed of Arthur's proposal to sign her on.)
"It's not what you think. It's deeper than that," the Point's head shook.
"Oh…" Dominic mocked him haughtily, "'It's not what I think'. 'It's deeper than that'. Yeah that justifies it."
Arthur glared, "Don't patronize me."
Cobb launched straight into attack mode. He was sick of Arthur's fixation on this and damn well terrified that his best friend was losing his mind. He got louder with every sentence, "You fell in love with your projection of her! You need to get a grip, Art. You wonder why you can't get that relationship out of your head?! It's because that's what it was: In your head!"
"What, like Mal is in your head?" the taller one bit back.
Solemnly, Arthur was warned with a pointed index finger and some murderous eyes, "Don't bring her into this."
"Isn't it the same thing? Every time we dream, every time, she pops up and sabotages us. And you won't kill her. You can't solve the problem because you're in love with your projection of her. You think she's really there even though you know that's impossible. You talk about me needing to get a grip?" Arthur seethed, "Wake up, Dom! She's dead!"
A swift shove knocked Arthur into the desk and knocked the lamp off, "You son of a bitch!" Dom yelled, "At least she existed!"
The Point Man sloppily stood up and pushed Dom back, "Yeah? So does Ariadne…"
Dom grunted gutturally. It wasn't the same. Couldn't ever be the same. "Don't compare your sham of a relationship to ours. It will never add up. You're not capable of adoring someone as much as I adored my wife."
Arthur lays a cool wet rag on Ariadne's forehead and comfortingly caresses her jawline with his fingers. His thigh muscles burn and his knees have indentions in them from kneeling on the threads of the rug. He could climb into bed next to her but her muscles ache too much to reach over to the bedside table and grab a tissue when she sneezes so he stays there and hands them to her dutifully. "I don't feel good…" she whines. Ariadne reverts back to her eight year old self when she's sick. She wants to cuddle with pillows, eat grilled cheese and talk to her mom—whom Arthur calls and puts on the phone with her on the rough days to make her feel a teeny bit better.
"I know, Baby. Try to go to sleep." Arthur dabs her temples and wipes off her sweaty neck with the rag then puts it back on her forehead. "I'll be right here if you need anything."
Ari let her droopy eyes close all the way and snuggled her chin beneath the covers, "I love you." Those were the best thank you's.
The memory of his devotion makes Arthur both sick at the loss and angry at Dom, "You don't know that. You don't know what we shared. How much I cared for her, how much she loved me."
The Extractor's fingers pulled at his greasy hair. Arthur was so stubborn! "Ariadne. Doesn't. Love. You. Technically, she never did. And she never will. She doesn't remember you because none of that ever happened! She doesn't know you. You're a complete stranger! And you don't know her. She's not the perfect pretty little picture you painted of her in your mind."
The Point Man brooded silently. The lone sign he was upset was when he took off his suit jacket, balled it up and threw in in the corner on the floor. Those allegations clearly stung. Dominic could attempt to sympathize. Every time he visited the memories of Mal locked up in subconscious and then woke to the reality of her absence a little more of him died. Cobb sighed, "I'm sorry, Art. I wish it wasn't the truth. Miles has lost enough of us to this world, don't make him two more. Leave the poor girl alone and come all the way back to reality."
Defeated, Arthur plunked back down on the mattress and rubbed his temples, "I wish I could. I can't." Cobb huffed exasperatedly but said nothing while he took a seat next him. Arthur looked at him and when he did the young man seemed years older, weathered. The stress of the weight on his mind had taken its toll. All thoughts he'd previously pondered—about this being a clever and elaborate plan of Saito's—they were erased. "I'm meant to be with her." If he noticed Dom's eye roll and lick of lips, he didn't acknowledge it, "I know it sounds stupid to you…sometimes it sounds stupid to me. But think about it—why? Out of the millions of women I've met, passed by or glanced at, why did my subconscious choose Ariadne?"
"It was random," emphasized Dom.
"I don't think it was. No woman has been able to hook me like she has. When I saw her for that split-second at Stephen's maybe my subconscious knew she was the one. Maybe it made me care for her in the dream so that I would have to find and care for her in reality."
His best friend scoffed, "Look at that, two years in limbo and you emerge a sappy poet."
"It's what that woman does to me."
Dom could tell Arthur was captivated by the notion. He could tell by his fervor and passionate form of speech that he truly believed all this. He tried to intervene, "Arth—"
"Look." His hands flew up and collapsed back on his lap, "I could care less if she's not that Ariadne. Who she is here is enough. I—" Shaking his head, he got up and began to pace. The strange emotion he was feeling (no, it wasn't strange. He remembered her doing this to him in the dream too) rendered him restless. "I honestly feel like I've been asleep my entire life, Cobb. When I saw her again, when we walked together in the dream she created earlier, it was like…It was like I woke up. I felt more jolted awake than I ever have from a kick. Ariadne's smirk can keep me grounded better than any totem can." Arthur pivoted to judge the Extractor's reaction. As expected, he was dumbfounded. All his worry lines creased. The Point asked, "Don't you think this scares me shitless, too? When have you ever known me to be so dependent on someone? I can't help but need her."
His friend was more compassionate to him now but still firm in his own beliefs, "You can't pursue this, Arthur. Maybe you've decided it's fine to be a lost cause but the dream world will ruin her. You will destroy her. If you really feel that deeply about Ariadne…I know you won't be selfish enough to put your happiness before her safety and sanity."
Ashamedly, Arthur looked down at his feet and gritted, "I will let her make her own choices."
"If she chooses this job that doesn't mean she's choosing you. If she signs on, don't force your affections on her. Don't do to her what I did to Mal."
xxxxxx
Sunday. 11:54 pm.
Ariadne had made no form of contact.
The part of Arthur that still thought logically determined it was for the best. The last point Cobb made about turning her into Mal: That horrified him. Was he turning into his best friend? Because that was something he swore he would never do back in the dream. Cobb—well he didn't know the full story about what happened to Cobb's late wife—but he knew that they had been experimenting heavily. That often Cobb would coerce her into dreams and travel levels down at a time. Just to see how far they could push themselves. What limits they could break. They wanted to be known as pioneers of the dreamshare world. To discover something yet discovered. To invent new methods, contribute new knowledge. Well, Cobb wanted it more so...Mal was simply curious and trusted him so she allowed him to take her hand, drag her down and bend her mind.
Was that what Arthur was doing? Was he snatching up Ariadne's hand, forcing her into the dreams and subjecting her to the insanity that could ensue from it all? No…because Ariadne would not follow him blindly like that. As Dom had pointed out, the real human being didn't love him as Mal had loved the Extractor. She would have questions. She wouldn't take the phrase 'because we'll be together' as any form of comfort. It didn't matter. Obviously, the day was considered over and she had not—
"Nolan," Arthur slid his thumb across the screen of his phone and greeted with his last name. Well…the one he was using.
"Hi…" it was her but he didn't get his hopes up because she sounded hesitant already. Like she was afraid to turn him down. "This is Ariadne…"
With unfaltering professionalism, "Ah. Yes, I've been expecting your call."
"I know…I apologize for waiting so late but…" Here it was. The rejection: "I really want to do it."
The phone pressed harder to his ear and he stood to look out his window, "What?"
"You sound surprised…" the girl snickered, "Was the dream supposed to scare me off or something?" Arthur made to comment but she intervened too quickly, "Because it didn't. It actually made me more eager."
His eyes squinted. He should be ecstatic about this. Guess the guilt wouldn't let him be. Cobb was going to kill him if Miles didn't get to him first. Maybe he could talk her down from it, "Are you positive?"
"Yes. I tried not to call but…Yes. I'm in."
"A hundred percent? You know the risks and you're still willing to go through with this?" What was he thinking earlier? He couldn't lose Ariadne a second time. He couldn't recreate a dream. He couldn't make her love him if she didn't.
"Yes." She started, paused, then started again, "Do you not want me to take the job now?"
"No, that is not the case." Arthur never wanted her to believe he didn't want her company. Or didn't believe she was good enough so he explained, "I'm just taken aback by your choice. I heard about the offer from Mr. Prouvaire. It's a far better career move. I'm just curious why you would choose this instead."
Ariadne stated it like it was the most common known fact in the world. Arthur had to roll his die when she declared, "Because there's nothing quite like it. Because it's pure creation." Images flashed like a continuous loop: Pulling a needle from her wrist. Talking about totems and weights and 'Like a coin?' 'No.' Yelling, furious sarcasm and 'I'm not about to just open my mind to someone like that,' her red jacket smacking him in the face, her back retreating. Loading the PASIV and the clear of her throat. Her coy smile, 'I tried not to come but…' 'There's nothing quite like it.' 'It's just…pure creation.' Already, little vines of hers beginning to coil around his feet and threatening to possess him. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and tried to blink the dream from his eyelids. The continuance of her answer helped to ground him in the present, "I just…Ever since you took me into the dream, it's all I can think about. I can't imagine not doing it."
'She'll be back. Reality won't be enough for her anymore.' Arthur's head swam. 'Cobb, what's going on with Mal?' 'I don't know. Reality isn't enough for her. She keeps saying she needs to wake up.' What had he done to Ariadne? He'd set her up for becoming a shade. She was as good as dead, wasn't she? His selfishness and profession of love had killed her. Didn't he say he would let her make her own decisions…? Well, she had decided. Right? Who was he to snatch it away? Again, Ariadne's voice cut through his inner argument, "What time are we meeting at the warehouse?"
"Ariadne… Are you sure?" It was too late to backpedal several days' worth but he tried anyway. He never should've approached Miles.
With fervor in each statement, she declared, "I'm positive. I want to be involved. I want to learn. I want to be part of your team."
This was another one of those countless times where dream Arthur and reality Arthur butted heads. Where heart-driven Arthur and headspace Arthur battled it out. When he couldn't choose whether to listen to the boyfriend in him or the Point Man in him. The Point Man of reality shouldn't have cared either way. The one hopelessly enamored with the Architect…he couldn't say no when she wanted something (even when she didn't ask). "We're convening at nine." Ultimately, he was the one that won over.
Ariadne expressed herself with an overwhelming volume of gratitude, "Ok! Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr. Nolan."
He gritted, angry at himself, and yanked the curtains of his window closed, "Arthur. I've told you to call me Arthur."
"Yes sir, I'm sorry." Arthur sighed hopelessly in between that and: "Bye Arthur, see you in the morning."
And have I lost my way?
The path of least resistance is
catching up with me again today.
xxxxxxx
Sheeeeesh. Now they're going to start spending a lot of time together, aren't they? Expectations? I've got some fun stuff planned.
