A/N: Yes, it's me again! Gosh, it's been months since I was able to publish the last chapter. I'm SO sorry for all of you who have been waiting patiently for this to continue, but my workload has just been crazy since before Christmas - and it's only getting harder! I just haven't been able to stop thinking about how I've neglected this story, and my faithful readers, so finally sat down to continue it. I apologise if it seems a bit drab or incongruous with the previous chapters, but as it's been so long it's hard to get back into the mindset I was in when I started. Still, hopefully it'll return as I very gradually add more chapters. I promise I'll try not to leave it so long between chapters this time!
6.
He sat in the same café he had frequented every day for the past 4 months, since they had first moved to Paris together. He ordered the same drink (coffee, black, no sugar, merci beaucoup), sat at the same table, and listened to the same songs on the radio. He nodded to the same waitress to signal that his cup was empty and, yes, he would like just one refill before he wandered the all-too-familiar streets for the best part of the day. Sometimes he would take in the tourist sites (he spent a lot of the time at the Notre Dame, relishing its tranquil, reverent atmosphere), other times he would simply sit on a bench in the local park, feeding the ducks with a fresh loaf of bread and watching the world pass him by.
Arthur liked routine; to-do lists, check lists – in fact, any kind of lists – were his bread and butter. But this ... a mundane, carefree, risk-free daily schedule? It was tedious to say the least. And Arthur didn't cope well with tedium of any kind.
Since leaving school, he had always had something to do, something to preoccupy his mind, from his job in the army to Extraction. High-powered, stressful jobs they may be, but everyone knew he thrived under pressure. It stimulated his mind, brought the best out of him. He enjoyed rising to the challenge. It was what had drawn him into Extraction in the first place – that, and it was such an exciting new prospect in the world of psychology and technology. The money was simply a hefty bonus, an added incentive.
Ariadne was constantly telling him to get another job, to give him something to 'fill' his days with. But he didn't want to fill them with just anything, a boring nine-to-five office job that anybody with half a brain-cell could do. He wanted something that tested him, pushed him to his limits and beyond.
It was for this reason he had begun to wonder whether he had made the right decision in giving up Extraction for good. At the time it had seemed logical, the only choice open to him after everything that had happened. He hadn't been able to bear the thought of risking both of their lives and sanity again by venturing into such dangerous, uncharted territory (for every dream was both). Now he wished he had only taken a hiatus from it, a sabbatical as it would be called in the world of 'real' work.
He hadn't dared to confide his feelings in Ariadne, fearful of her reaction. They had not spoken of Extraction, or indeed Inception, since their ordeal months before. Yet he often wondered whether she missed it just as much.
Probably not, he thought, considering she relives the horrors almost every night now.
And that notion, right there, was what made him feel all the more guilty. She was suffering because of what they had been through, more than he could ever know, and yet he still yearned for the time when Dreaming was familiar, a comfort to break up the otherwise lonely, empty days.
Arthur breathed out a frustrated sigh and hurled the last chunk of bread into the pond, not even waiting to watch the various birds jostling each other to get at it. Things can never just be simple, can they? It was a silly question to ask, for he already knew the answer.
Nothing was simple where Dreaming was concerned. It had once been a sweet conundrum, giving him something new to consider with each fresh job application they received. Now it was nothing more than a pain, a metaphorical thorn in his side. He was starting to fear that, sooner or later, it would dig in too deep, become something that he just could not ignore.
Arthur was snapped out of his familiar misery by the sound of his phone ringing in his trouser pocket. He frowned; nobody messaged him nowadays, unless it was Ariadne calling to ask him to pick up some food on his way home, yet she would be in class now (he had memorised her timetable early on, for no other reason than because he could and had nothing else to do). He glanced at the screen to read the message, his eyebrows moving in reverse as he raised them in surprise. It read:
I'm in town for a few days, you free for a quick cuppa? I've got a surprise for you, something I think you'll like.
Arthur hesitated, his finger hovering over the 'Reply' button, before he quickly typed in his own message:
Sure, meet me at the Café Orange in twenty minutes. It's round the corner to Ariadne's flat.
He stared at the screen until the words 'Message sent' popped up, then slipped the phone back in his pocket. He was completely oblivious to the various cyclists, dog-walkers and families that passed by, his mind occupied with just one thought now. He had never been too fond of surprises (he always liked to be over-prepared for everything), yet he couldn't help the tiny bubble of curiosity and ... excitement that welled up in the pit of his stomach. Anything to break the tedium is fine by me.
With the prospect of his visitor and the 'surprise' before him, he quickened his pace and strode down the pathway towards one of the park's many exits.