A/N: So, this is the (perhaps) last chapter up… Finally, we are unravelling the last secret – Arthur's. And yes, I kept this one for the end on purpose. If you enjoyed it I would love you to bits for telling me, because I am only going to write the bonus chapter if you guys want me to. I have this HUGE assignment to write, it's due on October 11th and I kinda haven't started yet. So honestly I don't have time to write anything different than chapters for the title 'Prosecution of Female Delinquency in the Goliard Milieu during the Early Modern Age'. It's as difficult as it sounds, it sucks, and I don't want to. If there's another history major out there with experience in that field, pleeeease recommend books to me :(
Ok, enough of babbling, let's get on with the fun before I die from criminology overkill…
Ah, and as soon as you read the note I put in, please copy and paste the following and look for it on YouTube in order to let it play: - Arvo Pärt 'Spiegel im Spiegel'- (Title is German, I didn't find it in English). Wonderful background music!
Ariadne felt the wind through her thin cardigan. It carried the smell of Seine water to her, mouldy and familiar. Arthur didn't seem to sense that special night-time spice that filled the streets. He still led the way around corners and through back yards without taking great notice of Ariadne. Stray cats fled at the sound of his steps. Something was going on, but the architect couldn't quite work out what it was.
He was heading to a part of the city she had never been to before. The houses grew larger as they came closer to the Seine, the scent of Magnolias wavering through the air and mixing with the twirl of leaves and dumped newspapers.
Arthur pushed open a wrought iron gate clad with ivy.
"This is private!" Ariadne hissed and refused to step under the black cloud of leaves.
"So?" He smirked. But still held the gate open for her. "I've been here before. You just have to see this, it will amaze you."
She sighed and stumbled into the darkness behind him. It was like accessing a different world, a completely new universe. As the gate closed with a squeak they were cut off from the rest of Paris, only the stars above them and gloominess around them.
(This is the place to start the music)
They stood in the middle of a once beautiful garden, the layout still there, but mostly overgrown by vines, ivy and other creepers. A white marble fountain towered over wild bluebells and foxglove letting the water rush into its basin like a cascade of nothingness in the moonlight. High evergreens framed the wilderness.
Ariadne could only make out the shadow of a beautiful town house at the far end of the garden. The plastering already came off at some places and the stucco was chipped for all she could see. But still it was overwhelmingly beautiful. The moon lit up the bare windows making them twinkle in between the delicate shutters. The house was probably from the middle of the eighteenth century, she guessed. Greek gods supported the tympanum above the door sporting the silhouette of a couple facing each other. Stucco flowers wound their way to the first floor.
Arthur maundered down the unkempt gravel drive leading towards the entrance steps and curving back down the garden in a once white, now rather grassy loop. How many dead hours had passed since the last carriage had pulled up in front of the house? How many laughs had died with the rise of the sun bringing an end to many splendid balls?
She silently walked behind Arthur marvelling at the sadness this place seemed to breathe. She did not dare to speak out loud, so she only whispered her question.
"There's no-one living here, is there?" Arthur didn't face her for the answer.
"No. It's empty."
"How did you find it?" She had reached him by now, following his gaze up to the white walls and empty windows.
"Memories." he responded in a hushed, choking voice. "Long gone memories."
He smiled down at her, but she could see his struggle to keep back emotions or even tears welling up in his beautiful eyes. Simply out of the need to be there for him she took his hand and returned the smile in a more hopeful manner.
"Will you tell me about them?"
"We shall see…" He cleared his throat.
"Why did you bring me here?" She asked, still looking at him.
"Because this place makes everything easier. You feel it? It has seen so many tears, fights and intrigues that your own problems seem to fade away and start to be meaningless."
Ariadne nodded.
"I come here to think." He paused a little. "To ask for advice. To let go." Again, his voice got hoarse and he broke off.
Ariadne took both his hands in hers and inched closer to him. He had his lips pressed firmly together, eyes shut, breathing heavily.
There was nothing she could say, so for several minutes she just stood there, listening to his heartbeat through the thick cloth of the trench. She could feel him shiver. Taking a deep breath, Ariadne lifted his hands to her face and breathed a kiss on his cold fingers.
She let go of his hands and wound her arms around his back. Arthur smiled against her hair and started to fiddle with the buttons of his coat, disturbing her as he brushed her chest with his fingers. Ariadne looked up, concerned she had done something wrong. But, still smiling, he pulled her arms from his back, lifted his coat and replaced them before draping the trench over her small shoulders and pressing her to his warm torso. The scent of his cologne leaked into her clothes, this unique Arthur-smell made her breathe in deeply and when she felt his chin rest on her head it was like heaven.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. This was new, awkward for both, like a half-made promise and a not yet asked question. But moments were there to be indulged in, so they pushed away all thoughts and melted into each other, throwing one shadow to the ground.
It was Arthur who broke the silence.
"So, I think I still owe you an answer."
"You don't have to." She whispered against his shirt.
"What if I want to?" Ariadne stayed silent at this, not daring to move.
"When I was a little boy, the roses in this garden still blossomed. The gravel path was always spick and span, not one single leaf or blade of grass was allowed on it. My grandfather made sure of that."
Ariadne looked up at him, loosening her hands a little.
"This place was beautiful. Even more than today. I had a family here, a home. A retreat, a safe place. So many happy memories." He sounded sad, not bitter, but so vulnerable. "I had a happy childhood. Until things started to go terribly wrong. My father was a politician, French by birth, my mother American. I didn't see them too often. When I was seven, my father was involved in an affair of state." He paused, breathing heavily. Ariadne pulled him close again and she could feel his hands tighten their grip on her shoulders, desperate for comfort.
"The details don't matter. But it was all about money, large amounts of money. Somebody blackmailed administration officials, among others my father. I remember my parents arguing a lot because of all that. My grandmother would take me to my room and sit with me until it was over. Sometimes we cried."
Ariadne stroked his back, huddling up to him.
"One night, when they were getting really fierce I walked into the salon. My mother was there. She – she stretched out her hand – and – wanted me to come. She had her suitcase packed. I went to her… and took her hand. My father was in rage…" His voice broke off, choking on his own tears. They ran down his face and oozed into Ariadne's hair.
"He screamed at us – a-and pushed my mother against the wall. My grandfather burst through the doors – he shoved me back to my grandmother. We went just a few steps – wh-when… when he…" He sobbed, but finished the sentence. "Three shots. He killed all three of them… he didn't see any other option. To him, there was no other way out."
Arthur held on to Ariadne as if clinging on for dear life. She waited for him to stop trembling and slowly wiped the tears away.
"You didn't have to tell me. That was too personal." He said nothing, just letting her dry his face with her gentle hands.
"I am sorry to have asked for it." She murmured. "So sorry…"
"That wasn't my secret." Arthur managed a lopsided smile. "It was in every newspaper, Cobb and Eames both know."
"Oh." She looked to the ground, suddenly Ariadne felt so small, so foolish.
He lifted her chin up with two fingers.
"Do you understand now?" His eyes only inches from hers, his lips closer to hers than the stars to the immaculate sky. "Do you understand why I always objected to everything emotional? Why I never let any of my feelings for anyone slip? I saw love and despair turn a man into a murderer. I figured for myself that having no bonds to a woman would keep me safe. But in fact it kept me lonely and haunted by night."
Ariadne barely breathed.
"I've waited for this. Ever since I was seven. Am I – am I allowed to fall in love with you, Ariadne Imogen Spencer?"
And then he lowered his lips to hers, not yet touching but savouring her sweet smell and anticipation. When she felt his warm skin on hers a blast tore the skies and the world started to spin, glistening in all the colours of the rainbow. A silent kiss in the moonlight, slow and comforting at first, as if to reassure them both of reality, becoming more passionate as the moon crept behind the clouds waiting for his tragic lover he would never be with because his was the night and hers was the day. But they, Arthur and Ariadne, had each other, not wanting to let go too soon.
When they finally broke apart he cupped her face. "Was that a good enough secret?" He asked.
She just nodded her head, hot tears rushing to her eyes.
"Am I such a horrible kisser?" Arthur joked, shrugging off his coat and putting it around her shoulders.
"No! No… you're the best I've ever had. But everything's just… a little unfamiliar." She laughed quietly.
"Would it make things a little more – familiar if I kissed you again?"
"Maybe that would help."
He tasted of alcohol, a little, tonic, a little more, and Arthur, a lot.
She didn't have to check on her totem. She didn't even want to. This was real. And it was wonderful.
The moon reappeared from his hideout. Arthur bent down to pick up his abandoned suit jacket.
"I guess I can throw that away." He crumpled it, but stopped dead as he heard paper crackling. Smiling, he pulled out the present.
"You still want it?" He asked Ariadne.
"Of course I do." She unwrapped it, and under the dark blue paper she could see something glistening in the moonlight, floating through her fingers. A silk scarf with the most intricate pattern she had ever seen. Gold chains curled into one another on a navy blue background. She tried to find and end to the snaking bands, but couldn't – it was one chain all the way, although it looked like a thousand.
"Wow… this is beautiful."
"Have a closer look." He shifted the scarf so that one corner lay in her hands. On one of the chain links she could make out a little female figure 'etched' into the metal (masterly woven, better) wearing a Greek style dress and holding a reel of silver thread.
"And now…" Arthur pulled the scarf, turned it 180° and laid the opposite corner in her palms. There another link displayed a male figure in a shorter tunic, holding a sword in one and the end of the silver thread in the other hand.
"Ariadne and Theseus." She whispered. "This is unique."
"I hope so, they made it especially for you."
"Who is they?"
"Hermès. It's not one of their standard designs. This is the only one ever made with that kind of pattern." He wrapped the scarf round her hands absentmindedly.
"You must be completely out of your mind…" She moaned. "Those scarves cost hundreds of Euros!"
Arthur grinned. "Well, it's a birthday present from all four of us. Plus Saito, who phoned up Jean-Paul Gaultier to make sure we got the quality we wanted. So we didn't exactly ruin ourselves."
Ariadne gasped. "I – you… um. Thank you so much!" She flung her arms around him. "This is probably one of the best birthdays I ever had."
"You're welcome…" He chuckled. "Let's get you home."
"That's what you said last time, too. And look where it got us." She grinned.
"You'd rather not have come here?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow and pulled a face.
"Oh Point Man, you can't imagine… thanks for sharing that secret, though. You kept it good."
"Which is my job." He added. Smiling, he reached for her hand and they walked back through the garden towards the streets of Paris. Just before he opened the gate, she stopped and looked at him.
"Um, Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"I'm desperately in love with you… just thought you should know."
Ok, that was it – for now. As I said, if you liked it I'm gonna write a short little extra chapter. Again, this chapter just ran off with my idea and turned itself into whatever it wanted to be. I'm sorry for the tragic, but as you may have heard we had another gun rampage in Germany. The last one (March 2009) was only 5 miles from my place, the one that happened yesterday was only a little further – that's just what goes through your mind when things like that happen. When broken love and despair make people kill others… thanks for reading, and thanks for every alert/favourite/review!
