Author's Note: I know, I know! I haven't updated since Thursday. But my defense, it's been a really busy weekend. And just because I haven't updated in a couple days does not mean I'm going on a hiatus again. I promise not to abandon you guys again. Swear!
By the way, did you guys hear that Inception is up for Best Picture at the Oscar's, but Christopher Nolan isn't up for Best Director? Are you serious? What the hell is up with that?
Disclaimer: Still don't own Inception.
Ariadne felt hollow. Though the sight in front of her was gruesome, she couldn't bring herself to look away. Arthur couldn't be gone. He just couldn't.
"You know," Browning started conversationally, "I was reading your profile."
He had a profile on her. She wasn't surprised.
"And I came across an interesting detail about you," Browning continued, tossing her totem between his hands. "You're only in this business for the creativity. Not for the money, which I'm guessing people pay you a lot of when you get the job done."
Ariadne didn't grace him with a response, still refusing to look at him.
"This isn't real," Browning stated.
Ariadne jerked her head up, her heart beat quickening, not daring to have any hope.
"You're in a dream, under a sedative. You're safe and sound. For now," he added darkly.
"What do you want?" she asked, not bothering to hide how scared she was. Browning had already seen how she reacted to Arthur's death. She couldn't fake being brave now.
"What I said before. Expulsion."
"And I told you before: I've never heard of it before, let alone done it," Ariadne snapped, her voice hard.
"You will do this," Browning said, repeating his threat from earlier.
"Or what?" Ariadne challenged.
"When I was reading your file," Browning said, ignoring Ariadne, "I came across another detail. You already know what it is, as do I," he said, gesturing to Arthur's dead body in front of her. "You love him. That's a very powerful weapon to have against you."
Ariadne glared at him, wondering where on earth Browning was going with all of this.
"This dream will end in exactly…one minute," Browning calculated, looking at his watch. "When you wake up, you will either be awake or in a dream. However, you won't know. And since I have this," Browning added, holding up her totem, "you won't be able to check."
"If this is a dream, why can't I change anything?" Ariadne asked.
"The sedation," Browning smirked. "Since you're under sedation, only I can control the dream. Each time Arthur shows up, and each time I kill him, you won't know if it's your projection or the real Arthur," Browning said with a cynical smile.
Ariadne tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. How could anyone be so cruel?
Ariadne looked at him, her eyes pleading. "Please don't do this," she begged.
"You know how to make it end," Browning said, his voice fading.
The dream dissolved.
AxA AxA AxA AxA AxA
Arthur drove slowly up the street Olias del Rey, eyes darting back and forth, desperate for a sign of a hotel or apartment. His eyes landed on an ATM. The ATM Ariadne had been at just mere hours ago. His heart beat picked up at the mere thought.
Shaking his head in an attempt to concentrate, Arthur reached the end of the street. No hotels or apartments. Of course.
Turning on the next corner, Arthur went down the next block, then the next, his relief at finding the ATM slowly turning into panic when no hotels or apartments were seen.
His eyes soon landed on an apartment complex sign. Sighing in relief, he swiftly parked the car and hurried into the building. There weren't many people around, seeing as it was fifteen minutes past ten. The manager of the building was sitting behind the front desk, idly flipping through a magazine. He quickly sat up and put the magazine away when he saw Arthur walking towards him.
"Te hablas English?" Arthur asked.
"Yes," the man answered, his accent thick. "How may I help you?"
"I'm looking for Ariadne Johnson. She left her bag at my place earlier today," Arthur said smiling, the lie easily passing through his lips as he held up his overnight bag.
"Yes, sir," the man replied. "Let me see what room she is in."
The typing on the keyboard seemed loud in the quiet lobby. Arthur tapped his fingers on the counter, his heart beginning to pound in anticipation.
"Room 528," the clerk said. "Fifth floor."
Arthur, who had been gathering his things, froze. Room 528? That was no coincidence. He raced up the stairs, figuring they would be faster than the elevator.
He arrived in front of Room 528, his heart beating not in anticipation, but in fear.
The door was open.
Barely, but enough to where Arthur, whose job it was to notice small details, would.
Muscles tensed, Arthur quietly pushed open the door just enough to where he could slip in, his gun out, and cringed when the door creaked.
It was dark. Not just night dark. The black dark, which had an eerie glow to it, as the window was open and moonlight was pouring into the room. A light breeze swept through the room, fluttering the curtains. An unnerving feel settled in the room.
A painting sat on an easel on the balcony. Arthur touched his finger to the edge of it. Still wet.
He made his way into the bedroom, gun still raised, though he was fairly certain no one else was in the apartment.
Clothes sat neatly folded in an open suitcase, along with toiletries, shoes, and of course, numerous scarves. The bed looked rumpled, like someone had tossed and turned continuously. Arthur ran his hands along the sheets, noticing that they were still warm.
Room 528. It was no coincidence.
The door had been open, clearly broken into.
Ariadne was gone, as was her totem, Arthur realized.
Something was very wrong.
A/N: Like I would kill Arthur. Geez.