To start off, I keep taking forever. In my defense, it was midterms/finals this week at my school. So, I was literally forced to study for those by my mother. And then they're even more stressful when you have an APUSH teacher that doesn't teach. That is an excuse, though,and I'm sorry it took me so long.
Secondly, Golden Globes- they made me angry. Like, I seriously did love The Social Network...but in no means was it as brilliant as Inception. Especially for Musical Score. It's so intricate and well done. But hey, I'm definitely holding out for the Oscars, right? Those are the big ones anyway.
I always think of things I need to tell you guys in the Author's Note, but then forget when it comes time to write them, I never remember. Lame :(
Anyway, you all seriously rock. SO much. 3 I've received at LEAST 45 Story/Author Alerts and that makes me super happy. I don't know if that's "big" in the scheme of things on this site, but it's huge to me and it makes me so so so so happy. You guys inspire me to write and you rock. A lot.
3
Chapter 8
A dense fog surrounded Ariadne. She coughed loudly into her shoulder. "Arthur!" she called. She had no idea where she was. She tried to make out the objects in the mist, but she could only perceive about a foot in front of her. "Eames?" Hearing a creak behind her, she began to panic. "Hello?"
Something grabbed her arm and she let out a shrill scream. "Hey, hey, hey, hey," a thick English accent said from directly behind her. "Calm down. It's okay." Ariadne tried to steady her breath. The fog was beginning to wear away, letting her see the Brit who had moved in front of her. He raised his eyebrows. "You alright?"
"I think so." Ariadne looped her arm through his. She stuck as close to him as she could. Fog bugged her. "Where is Arthur?"
Eames shrugged. "No clue. What's with the bloody fog?"
"I don't know. I've never encountered fog in a dream before. Why would Arthur add this?" Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 rang around them. Ariadne reached for her phone and looked at the screen. Arthur. "Hello?"
"Where are you two?" he snapped.
"Well, you, Arthur," Ariadne said through nearly gritted teeth, "are the one who is missing. Where are we? We can't see anything. Any chance you could get rid of the fog?"
Arthur's deep breaths were even more pronounced over the connection. "I'll try."
"Well, good." But the line was already dead. Immediately, the fog began to dissipate. It still lingered, making everything around them a gray-ish haze of the true colors. Ariadne made out a large building in front of her. Flashing lights and colossal advertisements flanked the skyscrapers in the vicinity. Time Square.
Arthur was leaning against a stop sign with his arms crossed. When he saw Eames and Ariadne, he smiled before he noticed their embrace. They approached him almost cautiously. Arthur had been volatile in the last two weeks. Ever since returning to Paris, his mood swings had been that of a thirteen year old girl, ranging from aggressively happy to intriguingly morose. Eames uncharacteristically walked on eggshells around him, but Ariadne's temper had been flaring.
She started to crave fighting him. She was inherently curious and found Arthur's lack of communication aggravating. He would say something, causing her to make a retort she felt would bother him. It was obvious it always struck a nerve, as he generally clenched his fist and his veins would nearly pop out. But he'd shut his mouth and just glare at the wall, giving a sharp nod.
"I suppose we're not going to do any training, with all this fog, I mean." Eames's arm left Ariadne's. She sighed.
"But the time's not up." She wasn't fond of being shot to leave early. She woke up with a jolt that Eames liked to make fun of. It wasn't the first time since they got home that they had had to shoot themselves to wake up early because Arthur didn't feel like trying. They hadn't wanted to get inside his head, so they'd been alternating with Ariadne and Eames until today. Eames had been wary, but Ariadne wanted to give it a shot.
"Well, Ariadne, it's clear Arthur would rather us not be stuck inside his head." The fog was becoming thicker. Ariadne turned to Arthur whose expression was just as foggy as the surroundings. He reached into his jacket and slowly brought out a gun.
Ariadne was now staring at the ceiling in the warehouse, her heart racing. Arthur was across from her, pulling out the needle connecting them all together. Ariadne rubbed her forehead. She felt a tug on her wrist. She sat up to see Arthur quickly rolling up the lines. Pulling her own cable out, she yanked on the cord. The lines unraveled and Arthur dropped them "Very helpful, Ariadne."
She didn't want to respond to him, so she simply didn't.
The fact that they hadn't looked into a job made Ariadne sincerely unhappy. A job wasn't supposed to just fall out of no where. They would have to find it and Arthur and Eames had made no steps towards searching.
Eames kneeled down to help with the wires when Ariadne's phone rang again. She flipped it open without seeing the name. "Hello?" she asked as Arthur and Eames began to bicker.
For a moment all she heard was the scuffles of a chair being pushed back and the delighted screams of children. "Hello?" she said again at a higher decibel. There was a faint 'give daddy the phone' in the background.
"Ariadne?"
"Dom?"
"I'm glad I caught you! How is it in France?" Arthur had perked up at the sound of his best friend's name. He pushed himself off the ground and stood next to Ariadne. He held out his hand expectantly.
"Excuse me?" she mouthed incredulously. He opened and closed his hand again. "Ha! France is beautiful as ever, Cobb." She shoved Arthur away from her and walked away. She leaned against the cool pillar. "How's California? How are James and Phillipa?"
"California is sunny and the kids are great." Ariadne clearly heard the smile in his voice. Arthur followed her to the pillar and stared at her. "No," she mouthed, vigorously shaking her head.
"I'm so happy to hear that!"
"Ariadne, give me the phone."
"Arthur, shut up."
"Give me the damn phone."
"Shut up!"
"Is Arthur there?"
"Here," she growled, throwing her phone at Arthur.
He smirked. "Hello? Yes, we are in the warehouse. Oh, Ariadne is adapting well." She hated his suave voice. She hated everything about him in that moment. It wasn't until she scanned the room that she saw that Eames wasn't there.
"Arthur?" she said. He held up his hand to quiet her as if she was a child. "Arthur!" He turned his back to her. "Arthur Petrelli!" It didn't come out as dramatic as she'd hoped for, but she had no idea what his middle name was. He glanced over his shoulder. Before she could ask where Eames was, there was a loud crash that made her and Arthur freeze.
Their eyes widened. "Was Eames on the staircase?" she asked. Arthur nodded.
"Cobb, we'll have to call you back," he said. He shut Ariadne's outdated phone, stuffing it in his pocket. They rushed to the staircase. Ariadne flipped on the light. She gasped.
At the bottom of the stairs Eames was sprawled across the floor. Before Arthur could stop her, she ran down the stairs, jumping them two by two. Jumping to the floor and fell onto her knees next to Eames, who had been knocked out by the fall. "Eames, Eames, Eames, Eames. Please be okay." Arthur kneeled beside her.
"Ariadne, he whispered. She turned to him, near shock.
"He'll be fine, right?" Her earnest worry made him bite back a smile.
"I'm pretty sure. We need to get him to a hospital to be positive. Ariadne," he said, as she looked back to Eames. She gently pushed his hair off his face. Not wanting to hurt him anymore than he was, she tried not to move his body. Placing his head on her lap she absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair. Arthur saw that his words had no effect on her. She was positive Eames was inches from death. He patted her quickly on the back and went to call an ambulance.
Ariadne paced the length of the waiting room. She had been since they had arrived at the Hospital. Arthur was amused for a while, but he was starting to think Ariadne wasn't going to stop. "Ariadne, he's fine. I promise. The doctor said he thinks it's just a broken leg.
"Then why wasn't he awake?" she asked angrily. When she passed Arthur this time, he grabbed her wrist. He pulled her down to the seat next to him.
"You need to calm down." Ariadne attempted to get back up but he pressed her wrist against the bar of the chair and wrapped his hand around the both of them. She struggled another moment before giving up. She dramatically sighed and slumped back against the seat. "He's going to be fine, Ariadne."
"You don't know that," she said, her voice wavering. She looked deliberately away from him at a stack of French magazines. "You don't know that one moment, someone you love, someone you care about, is here, and then the next they're gone."
Arthur felt her hand go limp underneath his. He let go as if it was on fire. "Hey," he said. "Ariadne." She looked up through her hair. "I would never lie to you. Eames will be fine. I'm sure." She sat up a little bit straighter.
"You mean it? You'd never lie to me?" He smiled. "Then what's you're middle name?"
He rolled his eyes. "One moment you're grieving over Eames's imminent death, the next you're badgering me about my middle name."
"Badgering? Au contraire, I believe I simply asked a question. No need to get so defensive."
Arthur had no desire to tell anyone, especially Ariadne, his middle name, but if it kept her happy, he'd go along with it. "My middle name is…" he trailed off.
"Yes?"
"It's…"
"Cat catch your tongue."
"Dante," he muttered.
"What was that?"
"Dante," he said at the same volume.
"Could you repeat that, Arthur?"
"Dante! My middle name is Dante!" Ariadne giggled. "Well thanks, I feel awesome now."
She shook her head. "Oh, I think it's cute. Arthur Dante." She smiled. Arthur felt a warm sense of something and he wasn't sure what it was. As he smiled back, Ariadne bit her lip and looked away. He suddenly realized he liked making the architect smile.
"So what's your middle name?"
"Oh," she laughed. "Sophia. More Greek. Really surprising, right?"
"Are you actually from Greece?"
Ariadne shook her head. "My mom was and my dad's parent's were. But I'm all American. You?"
"I've lived in that house since I was born." Arthur pushed his hair back. It wasn't often he talked about his family. He wasn't all that open and he wasn't really around enough people interested in his life. The last person he had talked to about anything was a mistake. "I grew up in a museum, unable to touch anything. I could look and see how pretty it was, but if I even breathed on it, my mother would know and come swooping in."
Ariadne grimaced. "That must have been awful."
"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "But you, what was it like to live with a painter?"
Ariadne opened her mouth. "Êtes-vous deux ici pour Eames?" They duo looked up. A tall man with wavy hair stood before them. Ariadne felt he probably spent more time on his appearance than his patients. Arthur nodded, understanding the French easily. Ariadne's attention had been captured at the mention of Eames. "Il est juste au bout du couloir. Il se réveille environ maintenant." Arthur nodded again and he and Ariadne stood up. The doctor gave Ariadne a once over before grinning. "Eh bien, bonjour superbe. Comment allez-vous ce soir?"
"She's great," Arthur said, gritting his teeth. "We'll be going now, thanks." He gripped Ariadne's arm and pulled her down the hall way. "I hate French people," he muttered.
Ariadne stared ahead, rummaging through the storage files in her mind holding the fragments of the French language. Before she could piece together the sentence, they entered Eames's room.
His face was pale and his hair was disheveled, but apart from that and the cast upon his right leg, he seemed to be his normal charming self. "Ah, Arthur, Ariadne!" His smile spread across his face.
Ariadne ripped her arm from Arthur's hand and power-walked over to Eames's cheap hospital bed. She collapsed across his chest. "I'm so happy you're okay!" she exclaimed. Arthur closed the door and went to sit at the foot of the bed. Eames laughed and laced his arms around Ariadne's torso. "I thought you were dead."
His laughter rumbled through his chest. "Quite the contrary. I only broke my leg. Not even a concussion. I was actually hoping for one."
Ariadne sat up, her back almost resting against Arthur's side. "How did you fall?" she asked, crossing her legs. Losing her balance, Arthur caught her and pushed her back up.
Eames's eyebrows rose as he began a tale that was mostly fabricated, but Ariadne and Arthur listened and laughed anyway. Strange as it was, this was the most peaceful moment they'd had since they had come home.
I quite honestly have NO idea what the process of hospital's in France are, and I couldn't find anything on it. Sorry, guys.
Anyway, the next chapter should have more drama (right, don't we have enough). A certain girl is going to show up in France :D
Oh, you should look up what the doctor says to Ariadne ;)
again, I LOVE YOU GUYS. Stay amazing!
