Chapter 6

All readers and reviews appersheated, I don't own Inception. Sometimes life just doesn't work out. *sigh* Apologies for profanity in both this and the previous chapter.

The second Ariadne returned home, still fuming, Jake was talking a mile a minute. "Hey Ari, you know that guy who was hitting on you at Wayward today? Yeah, he's bad news, he's really bad news. And I know you're an assassin and you're used to dealing with guys like that, but this guy is seriously, seriously not not not good. I mean, I looked him up, and he's been suspected of, like, twenty murders. And not in the assassin type way. Like the personal type way. He's super scary, and he's part of this crazy, underground crime thing with this crazy drug called Somnacin or some shit, and he's totally whacked. I know you're still smarting from Sam, but you should definitely turn him down."

Ariadne blinked, completely stunned by this flood of words. "Go back to the part where he was hitting on me," she said before she could stop herself. "What the…what?"

It was Jake's turn to look surprised. "You couldn't tell? Oh my God, he was totally into you. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten that look from guys asking me out. But as I was saying, he is crazy not good guy. Remember Dom Cobb? That guy they put away a couple years ago for chucking his wife out a hotel room window? Yeah, well this guy was best buddies with him."

"Jake, calm down," said Ariadne, closing the front door. "I know who he is. And he wasn't hitting on me. He was…" she broke off. "He was just being an asshole."

"What kind of asshole?" asked Jake. "Like the kind that lies about being attracted to you just so he can get laid? 'Cause I've dealt with those, and believe me, they're harder to get rid of than you might think."

At this, Ariadne actually laughed aloud. "No, Jake. Not that kind of asshole. Don't worry about it. I don't think he'd recognize a girl if she stripped naked and gave him a lap dance."

Jake closed his eyes and smiled, joking, "Mmm, I wouldn't mind that."

Ariadne laughed again. "Sweetheart, you are so flaming gay you make the room temperature go up."

"But she doesn't have to know that."

Ariadne shook her head exasperatedly. "You're the crazy one. I need to get ready. I'm going after Nash tonight." She pushed past Jake into the kitchen, but a second later, he bounded in after her.

"Hey," he said shrewdly. "That guy, Thomas James, he was the one who was at Nash's place. The one you knew from Paris." He looked stricken. "Oh my gosh!" he gasped. "Does he know? About you?"

"Thomas James?" Ariadne repeated. "Is that his real name? I'd never have pegged that."

"Don't change the subject! Is he the one who was at Nash's apartment?"

"Yes, Jake. Yes he was. He doesn't know about me, now will you please stop talking about him? I've have enough of that man to last me a life time." Ariadne took a Diet Coke from the fridge.

"Ari's upset," Jake persisted. "You didn't even drink Diet Coke after Sam dumped you. Little Tommy's rattled the great Adrian."

Ariadne popped the top and took a giant swig of soda. "Stop calling him that! It's weird. And he hasn't rattled me. I'm thirsty."

"Thirsty for comfort food." Jake rested his chin on his interlocked fingers and surveyed Ariadne with a concerned expression. "What's troublin' ya, darlin'?"

Ariadne raised her eyebrows and didn't answer.

"I don't believe you!" she cried, feeling almost hysterical. "You're not a person. You're a fucking machine. How can you not feel bad about this. We destroyed a life."

Arthur slid a page of newsprint across to her, bearing Robert Fischer's pallid face, and an article about the dismantling of the Fischer-Morrow Energy conglomerate. "Two lives," he said.

"How are you alive!"

"I'm alive because I don't feel. I can't afford to. You're the architect. You're supposed to be creative, to draw on your pain and your love. That's not in my job description. I have to keep my subconscious under control, and I can't do that with regrets and passions hiding from my conscious mind. . I worked with Cobb because he was good and he paid well, and because I owed Mal. I left because he was of no more use to me. But you still are."

Ariadne was at a loss for words. "You…you want to hire me?"

Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets. "I've been in this game for a long time. I've seen a lot of architects and most of them are greedy, scummy assholes. But you're different. You make things real. You're smart, and original. Your subconscious hasn't yet been destroyed."

"So you're saying it would be if I kept dreaming?"

"But that's the important part, isn't it?" said Arthur, and Ariadne thought she almost detected a hint of fervor in his voice. "That you still dream. How many have you had since the job?"

His question was met with silence.

"Hmm? How many?"

Again, silence.

"I didn't think so. Here." He placed a business card on the counter. "Think about it."

He took the ploughman and walked easily out of the store, as though he was blissfully oblivious to the horrible conflict he'd left in his wake.

Ariadne's fingers brushed against the little card as she pushed her right hand into her pocket, holding the silver can in her left.

"You're being ridiculous. You're just obsessed because you like him."

Jake laughed. "Nice try. He's definitely not my type. I like a little more…muscle. Like Rocky."

"Arthur's got muscles," Ariadne protested, and then clamped her lips shut, mentally kicking herself.

"Oh indeed," said Jake. "Heart muscles." He sighed tragically. "Why is it always the bad boys?"