You guys rock my world. Seriously. Any comments, questions, everything are so wonderfully welcome. I treasure each of them. They're my precious.
Sabriel, there is something in this chapter inspired by your reviews. Hope you enjoy! :)
Also, a major thank you to DragonMaker for taking me to a full-blown shooting range for this chapter. Any touch of realism is thanks to him. :D
When Eames Met Ariadne
Chapter 4: The Training
The Lamborghini zoomed down the stretch of highway. Sirens wailed as the two cop cars struggled to keep up.
Ariadne shifted gears panickedly. Her eyes never left the road. "Eames, there are cops chasing us!"
He grinned from the passenger's seat. "I know."
"They're going to throw us in prison!"
"Only if they catch you, love."
She hesitated, then floored it. The sportscar shot forward. Buildings blurred as they screamed past. "If I'm going to be a criminal," she gritted out, "might as well go all the way."
"That's the spirit!" he laughed.
It was a good thing she knew how to drive a stickshift.
"Ok, love, your lesson on how to be a damn good driver starts now. Have you ever done a high speed u turn before?"
"Can't say I've needed to."
"Well it's a great way to throw cops so you're going to learn it. On my mark, spin the wheel to the right 180 degrees, pull the emergency brake-"
"While the car is moving?"
"-stomp on the clutch, complete the turn, release the emergency brake, and speed away." Eames tossed her a smirk. "And yes, while the car is moving. It wouldn't be extreme driving if the car was stopped."
Her throat clenched up. This was insane. "Eames, I don't think I can do all that at once."
"You flipped Paris on itself. Everything else should be a walk in the park."
"That was in a dream!"
He shook his head at her. "You're still the same quick-thinking person. Remember, turn, brake, clutch, turn, unbrake, gas. Got it?"
The cops were closing. "I think so..."
"Now!"
She spun the wheel for all she was worth, her other hand pulling the brake. The tires screamed in protest as the car swung. It kept turning past 180 and she barely corrected it in time to avoid the cops. She hit the gas and shot away with only a slight lurch.
Eames grinned ear-to-ear as the cops sluggishly followed. "You, darling, have the makings of a bloody fantastic driver."
Ariadne's pulse pounded as she wiped her hair out of her eyes. "I never, EVER want to do that again. I thought for sure I was going to roll the car."
"But you didn't, and that's what matters."
All-too-soon, a new problem presented itself. "Eames, there's a city ahead. With tiny, winding streets."
"Go ahead and slow down, love. You can't corner well going fast, but the good thing is that neither can they."
She slowed, making the turns smoothly.
"Er, not that slow." Eames looked uneasily over his shoulder.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she could see more cop cars pouring out of the narrow side streets to join the two. This was going to be bad.
"Eames... now might be a good time to, you know, actually give me lessons?"
A cop car veered to their right, creeping forward. "Don't let him do that. Cut him off before he gets next to you."
Ariadne immediately shifted the car to block him.
A shot rang out, punching through the rear windshield. Ariadne ducked, inadvertently clipping a wall with the car. Eames winced.
"They're firing!" she yelled, "What do I do when they're trying to shoot me?"
"The Lamborghini is your weapon. Use its speed!"
She stepped on the gas again, only to stomp on the brakes a second later, narrowly making it around a sharp corner.
A cop pulled alongside them, raising his gun.
"Gas! Gas!" Eames yelled.
She punched it. The car clipped a building on the turn. She struggled to correct it. "This isn't going well!"
She glanced in the mirror. Five cops, right on her tail.
"Watch it!"
A pedestrian stepped off the curb. Ariadne swerved-slamming into a lamppost. Airbags exploded into their faces.
"I'm really sorry, Eames," she stammered. "I didn't mean to crash your beautiful car."
But he was all business as he helped her out her door, crawling through after. The sirens approaching reminded her that there was more at stake than the Lamborghini.
Eames stuck his head over the top of the hood, to be rewarded with a spray of bullets. "Stay low, and run to that door when I tell you to." He pointed at a tiny shop door a few feet away.
She nodded, still in shock from the crash.
He lobbed a grenade over the car. "Go!"
They ran, the explosion covering them. He yanked open the door and she stepped into-
A swamp?
The door disappeared after Eames closed it. All around them were stunted, twisted tree-like shapes. An odd blue fog covered the ground, and where the horizon should have been, the same picture of a mountain repeated around the entire area.
"This is a dream?" she asked accusingly.
He shrugged. "I wanted you to take it seriously, without risking my car or our lives. You would've noticed it earlier-"
"The pavement was wrong," she mused, "there is no highway that large near southern France, you had the wrong roofing tiles, and there wasn't a sea breeze. Anything else I missed?" She hadn't put it together earlier, but now that she had a moment to breathe, the details came back to her.
"See, this is why I'm not an Architect," he grinned.
"Well, you did a pretty decent job of making a creepy swamp."
Eames scowled. "This was supposed to be an alpine forest. Idyllic and whatnot."
Ariadne poked a tree gingerly. Her finger sunk in and the bark rippled. "Your trees are made out of play doh." She couldn't repress her laugh.
"I know, I know," he waved the comment away.
"How were you even able to come close to making a city when this," she gestured around her, "was supposed to be a forest?"
"I remembered it from a previous job. I was able to make your snow fort to your specifications, wasn't I?"
"Ah, true. Alright, so what are we training for here?"
"You're not mad that I drugged you and pulled you into a dream?" If anything, his smirk grew bigger.
Ariadne frowned. "Mad? I'm thrilled to be dreaming again. And, right now, I'd like to just continue with training."
"Your wish is my command." He mock bowed, and tossed her a gun, smirking when she caught it gingerly. "It's loaded, so be careful." If looks could kill, Eames should have feared for his life.
He hung a person-shaped cutout on a tree about 30 feet away. "Go ahead, love."
She eyed it skeptically. "Anywhere specific?"
"Your choice. I'm only going to teach after you've shown me what you need to learn."
"I've never fired a gun in my life!"
He grinned. "Good. Then you'll have no bad habits."
She lifted the piece hesitantly towards her face, looking down the sight. Eames carefully put his hand between her and the gun. "Not so close. Guns kick when they're fired, meaning it'll pop back with a powerful punch. Best not put your face in its way."
She stretched the gun out at arm's length like in cop movies. "Like this?"
"Better. But use both hands."
She pulled the trigger. The bullet cracked across the field.
Ariadne gasped. "It was like a little explosion! And freaking loud!"
He nodded sagely. "It takes getting used to when you're the one firing."
She looked at the target and grinned. "I hit it!"
"You want to aim for the chest. Arm shots won't do much. Where were you aiming?"
"His head," she muttered.
"Practice makes perfect, love. Hitting it anywhere is a fabulous start."
A few shots later, Eames added, "Keep your feet shoulder width apart."
"My feet are shoulder width apart."
"That's like neck width! Bloody hell, girl, how narrow do you think your shoulders are?"
"They are exactly as un-narrow as my feet are apart."
He sighed. "Just widen your stance."
"Sure," she smirked. He wasn't the only one who could press other people's buttons.
Ariadne kept shooting, her aim getting better, but her nerves getting worse. The noise and the explosion caused her to flinch with every shot.
"Keeping your eyes open helps your aim," Eames drawled.
"I know!" she snapped. "I can't help it!"
"How about we switch to explosives then? You can practice on your own till you get the hang of the pistol."
She couldn't help her frown. "I'm not going to get to fire any of the bigger guns?"
"Of course you will, love. You shouldn't need them on a mission, though. But if something happens to me or another gun-for-hire, you'll need to be able to pick up his rifle and take his place." He studied her expression. "Does that sound good?"
"Yeah." She thought for a moment. "Is it possible to make a gun? Like one that had the speed of a machine gun with a sniper's range and was small enough to conceal?"
He laughed. "I've tried quite a few times, and each time I don't even get to see how glorious my suicide was."
"So that'd be a 'no'." Ariadne felt new ideas flicker through her mind, discarding them or storing them for later evaluation.
Eames rubbed his hands in anticipation. "Alright, so explosives. Also known as: Killing Loads of People When You Can't Aim to Save Your Life."
"'Almost' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades?"
"Rocket-propelled grenades, love. They're much more fun."
Eames gave her a quick crash course before glancing at his watch. "We should probably call it a day-"
Ariadne felt her consciousness pulled back to reality.
"-seeing as our timer's about up," he continued, removing the needle from her wrist. "How was it?"
She rubbed a hand over her face. "Wonderful, actually. Just dreaming again was fantastic. Even with a really crappy architect."
He tried to look offended. "Love, I can't be perfect at everything."
She shook her head and laughed.
So this was his flat. Small, cluttered, but cozy and surprisingly somewhat clean. Leathers and dark woods everywhere. A desk sat off by the window, filled with newspapers, magazines, and well-used notebooks. Books overflowed a bookshelf to pile in stacks around it. The painting particularly intrigued her: a cliffscape by what looked to be Courbet.
Against her better judgment, she kind of liked the overall effect. "Eames, I thought we were very clear about not going to your flat."
"Love, where else do you think I'd keep a dreaming machine? And you were also very clear on being friends only. I assumed they averaged out."
Although she resented the decision being made without her input, she saw the logic and nodded. Payback, though, was not beyond her. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
He looked instantly skeptical. "And what would that be?"
She ducked her head. "Well, it's just blank and sad looking, and I was wondering... could I sign your cast?" she asked sweetly.
His gruff composure melted a bit. "Of course," he replied, ruffling her hair.
She whipped out a permanent marker, placing her work right above his elbow, in the most prominent spot.
Satisfied, she recapped the pen. "Can I have some water?"
He gestured vaguely towards a kitchen. "Sure. In there somewhere."
She walked away, wondering how long it would take him to realize.
On his arm was a heart with a frilly Cupid's arrow through the bolded word 'ARTHUR'.
All the way in the kitchen, she heard his yell.
"ARIADNE!"