Big thank you's to my alerters and huge thanks and I love you's to my reviewers! Legal-Assassin-006, nowarning23, PrincessLove123, Dryad Warrior Queen, FeeltheFreedom, Ahh (Guest), Lazarus76 annnnnnd stacierebekah.
You're all awesome. A lot of stuff happens this chapter! It's like 4000 words long so bear with me…
7/19 UPDATED A/N: Ok so I went back an read over this chapter and I'm so sorry. I do know the difference between their, they're and there and too and to...Normally if I realize I've made one or two errors, I leave it be. But there are like a million in this chapter because I wrote it in a deep state of tiredness. Also, I'm clearing up the whole Arsenic issue. Thank you to some tips from PrincessLove123 I believe and I also did some more research this morning on arsenic and found that scene impossible to suspend belief if you know more than I did when I wrote it. But I've found a substance that works perfect. :) Also, expect a new chapter tonight :) Love PrettyPrettyPlease
Chapter 10- You're Ok.
She was the last one up per usual. Eames and Arthur were already sitting at the island, one hiding behind a newspaper and the other glued to his laptop. She sat with a piece of toast—pre-prepared by the Point- and her sketchbook on the other side of Arthur tentatively. The Point Man kept his eyes on his screen while he greeted her good morning and at the sound of his voice actually speaking to someone, Eames lowered the paper to find Ariadne. He gave her a smile and a wink for her morning greeting and she silently smiled back. Next she addressed the man behind the laptop, "I'm sorry for acting like an idiot last night."
Eames shoved his paper back down to scoff at her and give her a look for apologizing to the jerk. She sent him back a look to keep his mouth shut and quickly met the brown eyes that were now fixed upon her. "I'm sorry for treating you like one." His eyes softened in the slightest and she found herself admiring them before he turned back to his computer. A silent forgiveness on both their parts.
Suddenly she longed for the comfortableness they shared before this all happened. The ease they had between them at the café, working together…She missed when he would treat her like an equal, when he would ask her opinion instead of ordering her around. She missed the miniscule sense of humor she had begun to instill in him, the playfulness she was just discovering on the last job she helped him on. The look in his eyes at that park, when he—a blush colored her cheeks and she darted her eyes to Eames. Thankfully he was back behind his newspaper (God Bless the Chicago Daily), so she decided to stop mulling over Arthur in her thoughts and with her eyes and start sketching.
That night Arthur went down to the hotel convenience store and picked up a pint of ice cream for her to enjoy to rival the mundane food she'd been eating...an extra apology Eames would call it; Arthur would deny it. The next few days went by rather slow for Ariadne—which should be comforting for her—but it wasn't. She tried to keep her mind occupied…sometimes when Arthur would leave to do whatever he did…she would sneak and open the curtain to look at the city. Give herself something else to explore with her eyes and sketch. From their window, she could spot the famous Chicago spire and had drawn many a variation of it. And there was just something about the Chicago River and the way it seamlessly fell into step with the pace of the city that she found mesmerizing. She mused that it was the American equivalent of Venice. The Architect could always count on the skylines being blue. Morning, afternoon and night…all various shades of blue reflecting off the buildings and shooting into the sky. No matter the weather, no matter the clouds or the colors of the sunrise and sunset trying to squeeze through. Light periwinkles, bright sky blues, cerulean blues, indigos…purple blues and green blues and blue blues. Ariadne saw everything when she sat against the window and explored the city with her eyes. Only once, did she not realize a pair of binoculars looking up at the girl in the pent house.
xxxxxx
"Ariadne."
Someone was shaking her.
"Ariadne."
Begrudgingly, her eyes opened.
Arthur was kneeling in front of her bed, benevolently shaking her shoulder. His words hadn't registered in her haziness but the look of uncharacteristic panic in his eyes did. "Ariadne."
"What?" She forced her vocal chords to sound. Briefly her eyes grazed over the blurry red numbers on her clock that read 3:22. She felt like bags of sand had taken residence in her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to drop back down on the pillow and sleep and sleep and sle-
She could tell he tried to speak calmly, "One of my ins in the hotel called the room. Suited men are searching every floor for us."
Ariadne sat up, fully awake—thank you adrenaline- and threw the covers off to get out of bed, "Tell me what to do."
She searched the floor for her sling and new backpack, something Arthur caught on to. "All of our stuff is with Eames. We have to go out one of the windows and climb the fire escape to the roof. Life Flight is waiting on us."
"Life Flight?" She stretched her strides to keep up with him.
Arthur showed her his shoulder. His button up was drenched in blood down his sleeve. She gasped, "What happened?"
He carefully laid his hand on the small of her back and guided her out to the window they would need to climb through, "Needed an excuse for Life Flight to come." Hastily, his fingers worked to unlatch the window in what was Eames' suite and gestured for her to go out. The top half of her body was out of sight when she came back in the window and collided with Arthur. "What's wrong?" He asked.
"My passport and that backstory you printed out…"she pushed passed him and retraced her steps, "I was looking through it last night, it's in the drawer of my bedside ta-"
Bam. Bam. Bam.
Several fists were heard pounding on the door to their suite. Ariadne froze in her tracks; her eyes like a deer in the headlights, she gaped at Arthur. His comforting hand was then back on the small of her back, pushing her back into Eames' suite. "Go up, I'll get it."
He disappeared before she could protest, so she did as told and braved the wind (they didn't call it the windy city for nothing). Once her head was out, she registered the cold, heavy drops of rain that had begun to fall. Below her she heard the sound of a door slamming open and sucked in a breath. Arthur; she had to keep chanting a 'don't look down' mantra to make it to the top, where Eames was waiting to help her inside the chopper. Then it dawned on her…how would Arthur climb up the escape with a bullet in his shoulder? It was all happening so fast and before she could even complete that thought, Eames was climbing in beside her and buckling, telling the pilot to head out.
"What are you doing?" She heard herself ask Eames but didn't believe her mouth had been moving.
He yelled over the propellers beginning to whirl, "He said if he wasn't three minutes behind you to get you out so that's what I'm doing."
Had it already been three minutes? He probably couldn't find it (she would curse herself for not being a more organized person later), it was probably kicked under the bed or something completely irresponsible…Her irresponsibility had killed Arthur. Her laziness had hurt Arthur… "No, we have to wait for him. He was right behind me!"
"Sorry love; we can't take the chance, they're on our tails." She couldn't hear anything over the chopper to give her a clue what was happening below. Was glass shattering? Were guns firing? Were men yelling? She unbuckled herself and bravely hopped out of the copter. It wasn't too far off the ground but when she landed she had fallen and rolled. Eames yelled at the pilot to land and followed her suit before it could reach the bottom again. He chased her through the rain and grabbed her arm, "What are you doing?"
"He can't find my passport! I've got to help him!" The Forger gave her credit. She had tried to pull away from his grasp. In fact, she wrenched her arm away so hard he feared his grip might pull her arm out of socket.
"No, you've got to get on that damn helicopter!"
He held her in her place with the strength of his forearm and his eyes, telling her that her help would be futile now. Ariadne's breathing was quickening, "He can't find it, Eames." Was the sentence she settled on. She wouldn't say Arthur was in danger, she wouldn't say Arthur needed help, Arthur was trapped…she could only bring herself to utter, "Eames, he can't find it." They both hoped with everything they had that that was the only thing holding Arthur up. The rain was falling harder now, rapid, soaking them through to the bone. Sweetly, the Forger coaxed her back to the copter, had her sit down and re-buckle. He lied to her and told her she needed to be ready to take off once Arthur arrived but he knew he wasn't coming. As soon as her bottom hit the metal and her seatbelt clicked he told the pilot to go. She panicked, "No!" She yelled at the pilot, "We can't leave him!" She turned to Eames, betrayed, "You said we'd wait!"
"Ariadne, he's not coming." The forger patted her shoulder.
Ariadne shrugged it off and resumed her pleading to the pilot, "Just two more minutes! Just wait two more minutes!" She turned back to Eames, her brown pools wild with fire, her face contorted into a worry he'd never seen, "Please."
Eames gritted his teeth. "Only if you stay buckled." If it would make her feel better, they might could afford two more minutes…a minute and thirty seconds maybe. Just a minute. Just for Arthur. He asked the pilot to re-land for a moment but his hand was on the control stick, ready at a millisecond's notice. (Good thing they paid off this sucker, he was sure this was strange behavior for the sky ambulance. They'd taken off and landed again several times.) The Architect's eyes were glued to the top of the escape and her thumbs were fidgeting, her feet tapping. "Love, if you bite your lip any harder you might bleed all over the place."
She sat up straighter, her ears perked, her eyes pierced and she stopped all movement. Eames followed her gaze to the top of the escape and saw a man's hand grab at the top. Knowing Ariadne, she immediately thought it was Arthur. She immediately expected to see gelled hair and his determined eyes next but it would just as easily be the gelled hair and determined eyes of the men set on taking her down at whatever cost.
"Go, Boy! Take off!" Eames commanded and the helicopter began lifting off the ground slowly.
xxxxxx
She held her breath and sure enough, the man that pulled himself up so swiftly was none other than their suited Point Man. She watched him sprint as the helicopter lifted higher and higher…"We're too high for him! What are you doing, Eames? Go back down!" He ignored her but they felt a jolt down on the left side of the copter. Arthur pulled himself onto the landing bar and jumped into the helicopter just as it was getting high enough to fly off. He sat down like lightning across from them, buckled his seatbelt and leant back to close his eyes and slow his breathing.
If any feeling resembling relief rushed through her it didn't show. She reached frantically for her buckle but Eames' hand grabbed her wrist. "He's here. You leave that buckle alone until we're on solid turf." She obeyed and leaned back against her seat but her thumbs began fidgeting again and Eames couldn't for the life of him understand why. She was fretting over the Point Man making it and he made it. Therefore, there should be no more remnants of an anxiety attack. Since they paid the hospital's helicopter out when the pilot arrived, Arthur wouldn't need to be seen to the emergency room (not that he needed to anyway, but that is what Life Flight was for and how they convinced them to come initially) and they would head straight outside, hotwire a car and get on the road to Indiana. The first airport they saw they would use to head out of the country. This was all discussed between the two men on the eight minute flight to the roof of Chicago's main hospital.
The helicopter hit the pavement and Ariadne's buckle seemed to have undone itself on its own in record time. Before Arthur could reach for his, Ariadne's arms were around his neck and she was hugging him like her life depended on it. (It had just depended on him, anyway.) It stunned him…Not really thinking, he unbuckled his so he could stand and instead of nipping it in the bud…he returned her embrace; he felt her breaths slow and her body relax once his arms had found their way around her as well. They were both damp from the rain but he could feel her body heat. He could feel everywhere their bodies touched no matter how slight. She was the perfect fit for him. His muscles jerked in their start to pull away when she turned her head into him and he felt the tip of her nose on his neck. Just a few more seconds. He felt her hot breaths turn cold as they hit the drops of water there. He was freezing and burning simultaneously. They stayed like that for a minute before he forced himself to pry her off, "We don't have time for sentimentality, right now."
xxxxxx
Eames floored the gas of the cab while Arthur tended to his self-inflicted gunshot wound. The three and a half hour drive it should've taken to reach Indianapolis International Airport dwindled down to two. They'd already bought tickets to Manila, Philippines online under Arthur's alias Mr. Levitt. Eames would use his passport name, Mr. Hardy and Ariadne would use the passport Arthur so painstakingly retrieved for her, to pass as Ms. Page.
There were barely any words passed between the three except to quiz each other on their backstories and go over back up plans. Eames could see the conflict running through Arthur each time he looked at the Architect. Since their little hugging scene he'd kept a considerable amount of distance from the girl. They rushed Ariadne through the airport, shoving a zip up hoodie on her and putting all of her hair in a baseball cap. Arthur put her backpack through with his stuff and Eames put her sling with his so her only need was to take her shoes off to be through the long line. They just made it in time for the last call to board their flight. Eames and Ariadne sat in row 12 in coach, Arthur right ahead in 11. Eames suggested that Ariadne laid her head against the window and get some sleep, not only for rest but so she could cover her face. He and Arthur sat poised, analyzing every man or woman to walk the aisles, Eames' hand protectively rested on her back.
Xxxxxx
The hotel lobby was vast. With boutiques, restaurants, bars…you name it. As always, Arthur walked up to the front desk and fabricated information to reserve a room. Ariadne and Eames inconspicuously kept their heads ducked and walked around the lobby to keep from catching to much attention. The soaking wet—mafia looking—Point Man with fresh bruises on his face was suspicious enough. "Eames, I'm thirsty."
"You can't wait til we get in the room? I'm sure we'll have a mini bar."
She shrugged, "I guess I could—My throat just hurts."
Eames squinted and tried to make eye contact with Arthur. Upon succeeding, he made a motion to portray drinking and pointed to Ari. After an allowing nod, he walked the Architect to the nearby bar. She scurried in and plopped at a stool; Eames sauntered behind and slid onto the seat next to her. "You look tired…" He heard the bartender muse. He looked every bit the Filipino but spoke English perfectly.
"Yeah—long flight."
"What's your name?"
"A—"she caught herself and looked at Eames in her peripheral vision, "Ashley."
He hummed, "What to drink?"
"Just Sprite, please."
The Bartender's eyebrows shot up and he gave her a funny look. He simpered, "Listen, Ashley…I get off my shift in ten minutes—"
Eames intervened with a menacing glower, "How about you just get that drink, hm?"
Suspecting that Eames was only another customer and wanted him to hurry up so he himself could order, the Bartender rolled his eyes and turned to complete her order. When he spun back around he gave her a smile that made her feel uncomfortable. The Forger put his arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the bar, suggesting that she take the drink with her and get away from the creep.
xxxxxx
Safely tucked away in a hotel room in Manila, they finally relaxed. This wasn't as big as the others but the game plan had changed. They wouldn't stay anywhere more than a week at the most. Eames asked Ariadne if she was ok before he exhaustedly rubbed his poker chips together and announced his shower to the world (He also made them both promise not to peek...as if there was any desire to.) Arthur had already rolled his die and was doing a check list of the PASIV's contents and doing inventory of he and Eames' firearms and ammunition. He would have to start on preparing new passports, aliases and backstories by morning.
Ariadne hadn't put her stuff in her room yet. She must've figured if she left everything packed in her bags and by the door that there would be little chance of losing something Arthur would have to find and risk another pummeling for. The Architect chewed on her lip as she watched his nimble hands disassemble the firearms, count out magazines and briskly organize everything into one of the duffels. She wasn't one to lack courage but when it came to confronting the Point Man about feelings —he did something to her. His satiny brown eyes made her feel like an eleven year old again. "Arthur?"
"Yes?" He replied without pause in his apparent machine operated process.
"Are you upset with me? Because I misplaced my passport?"
The rare hint of insecurity in her voice is what made his assembly line halt. Then he pivoted to discuss the matter with her. It wasn't polite to talk about such matters with your back to someone. "No. No, I'm not mad at you."
"You've been avoiding me like the plague since we left the Chicago hospital."
So she'd noticed…that wouldn't do. He straightened his suit and leant against the table, "Actually I've been avoiding Eames…I didn't want to get into another fight with him so it was necessary to keep my distance."
Her eyebrows furrowed, "What did he do?"
"Put you in further danger. He shouldn't have waited. I specifically told him not to."
"No, Eames had it off the ground as soon as he pulled me on the copter. I asked them to wait."
Arthur sighed, "Ariadne, I could've been any one of those men."
"But it wasn't, it was you."
The Point Man crossed his arms and gave her that look.
"You would've done it for me." She defended.
"That's different."
"How?"
He paused. Unsure. Technically it would've been no different. Either Ariadne would've gotten on the helicopter with him or it wouldn't go anywhere. Then he remembered the way she hugged him when they landed, how scared she seemed and not for herself. Like she'd heard his thoughts she ploughed through the room with her words, "Either I would've gotten on the copter with you or you wouldn't have left. Am I not allowed to show you the same courtesy?"
"Next time, please don't wait. Neither of us may be that lucky again." He turned back around to his inventory.
At that point, Eames was strutting out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and one twisted on his head. As he passed through to get to his room he commented, "Uh-oh. I guess someone told Arthur that she jumped out of the chopper for him."
"You what?" He whipped around.
Ariadne shot Eames a glare and he mouthed an oops before he hauled butt to his room. She grimaced when she looked Arthur in the eyes again, "To be fair, it was barely two feet off the ground…"
"Why would you do that?" His look was a cross between bewildered and angry.
"Why do you think?"
"You can't do things like that, Ariadne." The Point's palms rubbed his face.
Ariadne chided, "Technically, I can. You just don't want me to."
"When Eames and I tell you to do something, it's because we've painstakingly formulated a plan that's in your best interest."
"Why my best interest?" Her voice was rising, "Why not everyone's best interest?"
It was happening again. They were butting heads. "Because Eames and I aren't the ones in danger.
"That's what you think," she grumbled.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She stuttered then-fit to be tied—replied, "It means I'm not the only one that matters!"
Arthur's eyes widened and he stepped closer, peering at her, scrutinizing. "What?" She looked down at herself and seeing everything normal looked back up at him.
He was standing over her now, "Your nose is bleeding." The reaction he got was one he didn't want. He wanted her to realize and then shrug it off. He wanted her to treat it like it was normal, to say that it was allergies, it happened all the time. But she put her hand to her face just under her nostril and when she saw the blood for herself she was shocked. As if she'd never seen blood from her nose before. It confirmed that this wasn't typical. Swiftly he grabbed a hand towel and held it to her head, let her take it from him. He took her shoulders and guided her back to the couch, "Sit. Put your head back." She obeyed with a confused look. "Did you hit your head when you jumped?"
"N-No…"
Ariadne was staring at the ceiling but heard the disbelief in the way he drug out her name, "Ariadne…"
"I didn't! I swear."
A beat of silence passed. Than a rush of words bombarded her, "What did that man give you to drink?" Now it was hot as hades and she felt herself start to perspire. Sparkles were appearing on the ceiling while she tried to concentrate for Arthur, "Just—just Sprite."
"And you watched him make it?"
Her hesitance was enough. He rushed to the sink and fished out her half empty glass of Sprite. The bubbles had fizzled away and it was flat and lifeless. He ran his finger around the rim, rubbed them together and then smelt them. He dipped a finger in, placed it on his tongue to taste, and then spit it back out. "It's sweet." The Point Man found the kit Yusuf had given him; it included an InChI: International Chemical Identifier. Eames came out of his room newly clad in his pajama set and was alarmed at the scene he'd stepped into. Ever serious, he gaited to sit by her on the couch and started asking questions. Arthur told him to take his gun and go check the lobby for the faceless corporation after her.
Using the dropper, Arthur took a sample of the Sprite and waited for the identifier to make heads or tails of it. It took several seconds before it beeped. "Propylene Glycol...shit. That's antifreeze."
Her head shot forward, causing more stars to erupt into her vision, "What!"
"Head back." He ordered, grabbed a zipped case from out of the duffel and went to kneel in front of her. "You're ok." Eames had just slipped out the door when-"Arthur.." Ariadne had started blinking faster and coughing.
He rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort for a brief second, "You're ok. I have a stash of compounds and antidotes from Yusuf. The taste wasn't strong enough, they couldn't have put enough in to do too much damage."
"Arthur," she panicked—still holding her head back-, "I can't see anymore." Ariadne felt his calloused hand run down her arm and squeeze her wrist, "It's ok, I promise." Her breathing picked up and a minor convulsion ran through her. "Arthur!"
"You're fine; it's going to be fine." He soothed and a piercing pain entered her arm. The needle she guessed. There was a faint rubbing of his thumb in circles on her wrist. The ceiling was all she could see, well barely, her vision had long ago gotten too fuzzy to make out anything. But she heard the door swing open, she heard Eames yell at Arthur with urgency, felt someone place their arms under her knees and behind her back. They started to lift her when the world went black.
xxxxxx
Thanks for reading!