Bishop to E7
Chapter 4
AN: Just before we get started, I wanted to say everyone who has been reading this story so far that I'm SO SORRY D:
I haven't updated since June! I know, how horrible of me!
There has been innumerable amounts of annoying things that I haven't been able to avoid. At least I graduated from year 10! On to year 11!
Nevertheless, onto the story!
Her surroundings appear, dim, blurred. Her limbs are stiff, as she attempts to move, adjusting her position to sitting. Ariadne's mind began to whir. Where was she? Why was she there? Chest tightening, she began to panic; recognising the couch she was currently occupying, the modest house she was in, as if familiar from a half remembered dream.
As she attempted to raise herself from the couch slowly, Ariadne's abdomen ripped into flames, pain ceasing every nerve of her body. The continual throb of her blood circling the right side of her ribs was excruciating, causing her to yelp loudly. She eased her body back down to the lounge, the pain gradually ebbing to a dim hum.
Suddenly, the interior of a warehouse, their warehouse, flashed behind her eyelids, permanently branding itself there. Fragments of the previous hours flooded her troubled mind. The darkness and security of the warehouse, illuminated with a storm of bullets and glass. The harsh heaving of her lungs as she pounded her way through the unsolvable maze of narrow paths, the shadowed alleyways taunting her. Eames.
He was with her for the entirety of her maniacal journey, yet she couldn't find him, her eyes searching the room hurriedly. Panic began to trickle inside her until her gaze landed upon her forger, asleep in a nearby armchair, anxiety etched into his features. She gradually became relaxed, Eames' presence returning her security. She began to wonder about the reasons for the forger's worried expression, remaining even whilst he slept. Surely he couldn't have been so concerned about her; they were friends, yes, but to the extent of the anxiety so evident on the forger's face?
As she reminisced on the Inception job, the badgering jokes and constant bickering towards Arthur, which sometimes made her laugh, and nearly all the time irritated her; and the chaotic event earlier that morning, Ariadne discovered Eames' fierce protectiveness towards her, and recognised him as the older brother she never had.
Finally realising her location as Cobb's house, Ariadne found herself becoming nauseous with paranoia, her dazed mind suddenly expecting the shade of Mal to appear and brandish a knife.
As her eyes continued to cautiously observe the room, her ears pricking to analyse the strange sounds she could only recognise as Cobb in the next room; her mind faltered. Something was missing... or someone. Someone whom she felt she was closest. Someone whose rich brown eyes and carefully angled face, a constant presence, she could seek comfort in, was now gone... Arthur.
Ariadne's lungs began to constrict, her breath crawling out her throat soon to become useless. As her mind began to register Ariadne's sudden loss of breath as hyperventilating, her thoughts were instantly engulfed in panic, for both her own life and Arthur' her labored breathing gradually became louder, Cobb rushed into the room, Glock 17 poised for any remnants of danger. Realising the lack of imminent threats, his hands firmly gripped Ariadne's shoulders in an attempt to calm her erratic breaths.
At the height of the increasing commotion, Eames was by Ariadne's side faster than she had ever seen him move.
"She's in shock, that's what's causing her hyperventilation. We need to calm her quickly." Cobb stated.
Through her panicked breaths, Ariadne attempted to form words of Arthur's disappearance, her tongue rolling and spitting, yet no sound or constructed sentences were heard.
"It's alright love, you're safe here. Nobody can come after you, we're here." Eames murmured as he encased Ariadne's small, fragile hand within two of his calloused ones, giving her a comforting squeeze.
After numerous deep breaths and Cobb's soothing voice, Ariadne was finally able to form audible, constructed words.
"It's Arthur... he's gone. He gave me his n-number and and address of a Paris ap-partment he said I c-could reach by at the airport." she stammered, breathless and panicked.
"When-" Cobb was cut off by her strangled gasp as she once again began to spew out words of Arthur.
"I decided to visit Arthur to, you know, talk about dreaming and the n-nightmares I've been having since the last job, since I-inception."
"But when I got there, his door was slightly open, and it's not like Arthur to leave his place unsecured like that. I... I was so frightened, I immediately jumped to the worst conclusion... that Arthur had been taken. I searched everywhere for him. The apartment was in complete disarray, draws were on the floor, I couldn't even see the floor as Arthur's things had been thrown all over the place." Her eyes widened as they unfocused, severely concentrating on the haunting memory.
"I-I just didn't know what to do, who to call, or even where to go... I was just so scared... I have to find him." she finished breathlessly, attempting to raise her withered, exhausted body from the cushioned clutches of the couch.
As if her skin was tearing, ripping apart, a deep rooted cry of anguish was released from within her aching throat.
"Woah, love! Just calm down and sit yourself back down on the lounge before you tear your stitches that I've just bloody well finished, which are quite fantastic if you don't mind me saying." announced Eames, a swell of pride and victory filling his now calm voice.
Cobb had remained quite, observing the brotherly affection Eames had shown to Ariadne with a paternal air. Once she was finally seated once again amongst the safety of the numerous cushions, Cobb's pallid eyes captured her gaze, a sense of comfort, determination and confirmation flourished between them.
"I will find Arthur. We will find Arthur." Cobb stated bluntly, as he lent closer, eyes remaining locked with her doe-like gaze.
"But you need to rest. We need our architect to be able to perform at her best." He whispered, a twinkle of conviction swarming his eyes.
As the desired concept of our architect flooded Ariadne's mind, an overwhelming sense of much needed acceptance engulfed her, surrounding her in a welcoming embrace, thus enabling her mind to succumb to the black unconsciousness of sleep.