A/N: And this is what happens when I can't sleep. Though it's right on time, it's currently just coming up to four in the morning and I have to get up to start my day! Well, kind of. It's a long story. Just like this chapter! This will probably be the last update before school starts.
Enjoy! And everyone; good luck at school if you have/haven't started yet. Together, let's make this year a good one!
Please review:)
Speeding Cars
Chapter 9: It's Okay
Ariadne never ceased to marvel at the outstanding architecture which surrounded her. The slate brick roads seemed so characteristic that she loved seeing them merge into the smooth black top, concrete highways that stretched beyond her line of sight. She inhaled deeply, the sweet aroma of the local bakery leaked into the air, filling it with the scent of fresh muffins and scones. Ariadne's stomach gave a slight rumble as she chuckled lightly at her stomachs loud groan.
She peered up at the buildings, they were simple and sleek, but at the same time held a classical elegance which resonated a feel of old Renaissance or contemporary with traditional inspiration. The building she was passing she automatically loved. The edges of the building were trimmed slightly by intricate, golden slabs of wood. The door and windows had high arches, looking out across the lake where small boats streamed carelessly along. Ariadne hugged her leather jacket closer to herself as the bitter autumnal wind breezed by her. She felt the inner lining of her jacket, it was so cozy and warm she hardly ever wanted to take it off.
Sitting down at a nearby coffee hut, all she could do was run her elegant fingers across the smooth surface of her quaint golden bishop, and wonder what Arthur was doing in this dreamscape, far off.
Ah, Arthur, she would find herself thinking of the young Point Man more and more often. Ariadne would recall the smell of his spicy cologne, or the way his sleek maroon tie warmed his deep brown eyes. The eyes which she couldn't help but emerge herself if its chocolate depth. They were so precise, cunning, experienced but joyful. When she would catch Arthur peering at her, she would see a deep twinkling that would shine through his orbs. She smiled at the mere thought of the attractive man who she had worked with for so long. And yet again, they were working. Ariadne curled up in the small chair at the café, curious as to know what Arthur would be finding out about her.
Arthur eased along the streets, only to find Ariadne's projections noticeably happier in his current setting. He took note of this because he had constructed this setting in an attempt to reflect Paris architecture. The subconscious seemed more at home here, than what it did with his suburban layout. He could not help but be intrigued by this discovery, but had little time to dwell considering he needed to find the secure location in which Ariadne would secure her memories in. He walked swiftly, weaving an and out of the crowds with agility. But, much to his dismay, there was no bank nor jail in sight.
Strolling along, slightly angry at this revelation, he pondered where this memory could be located. He heard the distant gong of a school bell, and found his feet moving him there. It was curious. Yes, that was the word. Curious. Why would anyone think that their memory, or prized ideas and thoughts would be safe in what seemed like a colonial looking school. The building looked small, and it was as Arthur entered it discreetly. He closed the doors quietly behind him and strolled along the lengthy hallway. His shoes made this same clicking noise they had against the hardwood floors. He had forgotten the carpet.
The floors were scuffed up, and in need of a definite polish. Scratches, most likely from shoes of the young school children, tarnished the cherry toned would. He took the moment to just stop. He paused in his walking, and closed his dark eyes. He let his lids conceal his irises and inhaled slowly. The air smelled sweet. But, he cared not of that, but rather the distant ding he heard in the otherwise exceedingly silent, small school. Without thinking twice, he bolted towards the elevator sound. Curiously enough, he was not intercepted by security this time, though received a very frightened look from a passing by teacher who stared and the strange man, running down another hallway.
He was able to reach the elevator, he quickly enclosed himself in the doors, and pressed the Level 2 button. It lit up a pasty orange color, and the contraption jolted into movement. And while he mentally prepared himself, it was beyond shocking, what Arthur saw, as soon as the wood-brown doors peeled away the scene before him.
Stepping out, he saw nothing, but blank space. It was like he was secluded to one corner of a very large room. And sitting in the crease of that corner, when one stark white wall met the other, sat a little girl. She was perhaps ten years of age, and was sitting contently. She had on a denim skirt with pink polka dot tights and a similar looking shirt. Her hair was long, and streamed in curly waves right down to her small, child waist. And the second Arthur made one move further into the room, he was met by a pair of blazing hazel eyes.
"Hello," child Ariadne said. There was a box of crayons laying next to her. She looked inside the bright yellow container and pulled out a small stick that was an indigo- blue color. Ariadne took the crayon, and started to draw on the walls.
"Hello," replied Arthur, uncomfortable with the situation. He looked around, did a complete circle only seeing the two endless white walls expand for what seemed like forever.
"You won't find anyone," the little girl remarked cleverly. She placed the indigo back in the ten-pack box of crayons. She brought out the forest-green. "No one is ever here," she said with a sadness in her voice.
Arthur stepped forward, his footsteps never sounding so loud. They seemed to echo all around him, eventually disappearing in the nothingness of the room. "May I join you?" He asked the girl who simply nodded, while she brushed a bit of her hair out of her face.
After a while of Arthur watching Ariadne color on the walls, he found that he was losing precious time. "Why are you all alone?" He asked her. She continued with her coloring as she spoke, trading in the green, for the canary-yellow.
"Because, no one ever wants to be around me," she said quietly. She drew a bright yellow sun over the landscape she had drawn. "Mommy is always out, and I never see my Daddy anymore. And since Mommy is always gone I never get to see my friends. I don't have many friends," she said. She gave the sun thick rays of sunshine which seemed to glow right off the wall.
"Do you like being with friends?" Arthur asked.
"Oh yeah!" Replied the girl in a chipper tone. "My friends are the best, there's Vanessa, and Jacob, and Timmy, and Nicole, and there mommies are real nice too!"
Arthur stared in bewilderment at the girl. He was trying to figure out this thought of Ariadne's out. And how he would use it to classify and personalize her training. Though before he could ask another question, there was a powder-blue right in front of his face.
"If you're going to stay here, you need to help me color Mister….?" She said with a cute smile, her tone trailing off in slight confusion.
Taking the crayon, he replied. "Arthur."
"Mister Arthur!"
"No, no Ariadne. Just Arthur," he smiled at her and crossed his legs just like she was. He followed her instruction and colored the sea in the blue color he had been provided with. "So Ariadne, why?"
"Why what Arthur?" She asked, she was working on a distant skyline, drawing small rectangles as buildings in the charcoal-black crayon.
Arthur decided to take another approach, she was only ten after all. "How do you feel right now Ariadne?"
The silence was heavy. Ariadne had stopped coloring, and her arm had dropped uselessly to her side. She tilted her head down, almost in shame, until her chin was resting against her pink polka- dot shirt. She said one word. One word that stuck in Arthur's mind. It was the significance of this role, of this setting.
She looked at him, with tears welling up in her eyes. She dropped the crayon carelessly on the floor, and stood up. She took small, baby steps towards Arthur. She sat crossed legged across from him, her knees almost touching his. "Can I call you Artie?" Ariadne asked him.
Arthur almost physically winced at the scorned nickname. But he nodded all the same, only to notice that Ariadne was crying even harder now, though she tried desperately not to let it show, leading to the eventual fact that her face was hidden completely by her two- slightly crayon smudged- hands.
"Artie…" she started slowly. Only to be interrupted by a sob finding its way out of her throat. Arthur, felt his heart give a painful pang. Especially as he thought of the previous scene with her parents messy divorce. He took the small girl and situated her in his lap. Ariadne's small body looked cradled in his long legs. He sat her on of his crossed knees, allowing her feet to rest on the other. He took her hands away from her face and gave her a look which suggested for her continuation.
"I feel so lonely," she said in almost a whisper. Then, it all suddenly clicked inside Arthur's head. After the divorce of her parents, Ariadne felt lonely and abandoned. He felt pity for the small girl who had ceased her crying by this point. All she was left with was herself, no friends or family for comfort or company. It would not seem that bad at first, but going days starved without interaction can be seriously detrimental for an individual, not matter how small.
"Hey, hey," he said stroking her hair. He wanted to protect this part of Ariadne, for it seemed to be one of her major insecurities. Caught up in the moment, he did not notice the echo of music in the background. "It's okay, you're not lonely anymore. I'm here, I'll be your friend." He said. It seemed almost uncharacteristic of him, but he knew. Oh yes, Arthur knew what it felt like to be lonely. He thought of all the times he was on the run, going around the world with nothing but his memories for company.
Ariadne turned in his lap, a big smile plastered on her small, round face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him lightly. "You're a good friend Artie," she said with a slight giggle.
Though all Arthur heard was the alarm being emitted from the silver brief case. He looked around him, only to see Ariadne slowly rising from her sleeping position. Her short, cropped hair was tussled lightly, she took a deep breath. Arthur couldn't help but stare rudely. He soon took his loaded die from his pocket, and rolled in on to the glass table between them. As soon as the lucky number three rolled up, he took it in his hand again and inhaled deeply. They were in the warehouse, in California. He was Arthur and she was no longer ten years old. Though whenever he made contact with her curiously beautiful hazel eyes, he could not help but feel the familiar pang of pity for all the young, petite woman- the woman he thought was indestructible with her stubborn attitude and cunning strength she had exemplified the first time they worked together- seemed so different to him now.
