Hey, everyone! Sorry this is up late. I wish I could say it was someone else's fault, but I just got so caught up in writing my entry for i_reversebang over at LJ that I completely forgot to edit this chapter for Friday. Whoops. So, here's this week's chapter. :)
My beta, VergOfTowels, is amazing. :)
6:20 pm, Bonanza, Colorado
Fischer awkwardly handed Ariadne another tissue as she mopped at her eyes and messily blew her nose. He had never really known how to comfort a crying woman—it wasn't something they taught in business school. And he'd always been horribly inept when it came to personal relationships.
"It's just that—that—oh God. I'm sorry, Rob. I must look great right now." Ariadne choked out a half-hearted, watery laugh that melted into another barely-contained sob. "I'm sorry."
"No, Ari. I'm sorry." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, laying his cheek on the top of her head as she turned her face to cry into his collar. "I wish there was something else I could say."
"I mean, there was hope before, right? Not much, but some. Hell, I've already lost my parents, and now Arthur, too." She blew her nose again and rubbed at her eyes defeatedly. "Now I don't really have anything to hope for."
The silence thickened, punctuated only by her quiet sniffles.
Finally, Cobb pushed himself off the doorframe and looked around at everyone: Ariadne and Fischer on the couch, Saito in one armchair with Miles standing behind him, and Yusuf perched on the arm of Nash's recliner…and Phillipa, kneeling down just behind the couch's checkered cover. She had crept passed her grandmother in the confusion the ensued after Eames's departure and the pattern of her dress made her almost invisible.
"Phil, go back into the other room with Grandma," he commanded, and she flinched.
"Dad, I don't want to." She stood and braced her little hands on her hips, lip stuck out petulantly. "I'm eight, now. I think I'm old enough to hear this. Uncle Arthur got shot, Dad. I was there." She paused, the words seeming to catch in her throat as she fought to keep her brave expression. "And you didn't bring Maman back with us."
Cobb opened his mouth. And closed it. And opened it again.
"Phillipa…"
"It's all right, Dad. You don't have to say anything. But just tell me, is Uncle Eames coming back?" Her eyes were innocently wide as her hands slipped from her hips to hang limply at her sides, leaving her small and fragile. "Now that he's—well, Grandma says the word for it is 'widower.'"
Cobb sighed and rubbed a hand across his eyes, shaking his head. "You haven't told James about Uncle Arthur, have you?"
"No," she responded honestly. "Only Grandma and Grandpa. I didn't want to make him sad."
Cobb nodded. "Thanks, Phil. Hey, why don't you go back and stay with him, all right?"
"But Dad—"
We can talk later, you and I. I promise. Okay?"
"…Okay, Dad," she said finally, slowly. "You promised. Everyone here heard it. I'll talk to you later." She said goodbye to everyone solemnly and left the room.
"Bye, Phil," Ariadne murmured softly.
"So," Yusuf sighed after a long moment, breaking the silence. "What now?" He looked mostly at Cobb as he said this, because he knew that Saito and Fischer were most likely going back to New York, and Ariadne was probably going with them.
It had been five hours, and Eames still hadn't come back.
"Well," Cobb began, sounding weary, "I think the best option right now is for all of us to go to New York. Mr. Saito is offering us the use of his advanced lab facilities, and what we need most right now is the cure."
Ariadne blinked. "What? But—but what about Mal?"
The thief shook his head sadly. "She's gone. Somewhere. I don't know what's happening, but the infected seem to be losing what little humanity they had left. I don't know what's causing it, but it's certainly happening."
"They no longer speak," Yusuf agreed. "And now it seems that they are no longer recognizing the people they knew—"
"That's…not entirely true," Cobb interrupted, glancing up to meet everyone's surprised eyes. "You see, the thing is—"
He took a breath.
"Mal didn't know me. Or Phillipa, really, I don't think. At least, that's what I'm choosing to believe, because the only alternative is that she's actively trying to kill us. I mean, all zombies eat their loved ones, but it was usually just because they were easier to get a hold of. Now I don't know what to think. But Arthur—" He sighed. "Arthur paused when he saw Eames. Only for a second, but—" Once again, he hesitated. "But we never got to find out why, because then he got shot. By the time we'd recovered, Mal had dropped Phil and run off."
"That is…very interesting," Saito said contemplatively. "Perhaps it was because your wife had been exposed to both you and your daughter after she turned, but Mr. Arthur had not?"
"Maybe," Cobb agreed, sounding worn.
"Or maybe it's because Arthur's been infected for a shorter time," Ariadne suggested. "Cobb, did Mal still address you affectionately for a while after she turned?"
"She did, actually," Cobb replied, brow furrowing. "She used to tell me that she loved me, and that she missed the children." He looked pained.
"Maybe they weren't as emotionless as we thought, then," she continued. "Maybe it's just worse now. Maybe the transformation's not complete yet, and they're, well, they're getting cruel."
"That's very possible," Yusuf said, leaning forward in interest. "Of course, I won't know until I get the chance to study the chemical makeup of their brains in more detail. I have a completed draft of the vaccine, that I'd like to test, but—" Suddenly, he sighed and looked reluctant to go on.
"What is it?" Cobb asked. Yusuf remained quiet for another moment, thinking of how best to phrase his question.
Finally, he just came out and said, "I want to look at Arthur's remains."
Cobb nodded.
"What?" Ariadne gasped, almost standing but for Fischer's soothing hand on her arm. "No! You can't dissect Arthur! Eames won't let you! Hell, I won't let you!"
"Ariadne—" Fischer began, trying to calm her, but she pulled away from him and launched to her feet.
"No! Rob, you don't even get a say in this, since you didn't know Arthur. And Yusuf, I can forgive you, because you'd only just met him. But Cobb. Cobb. How can you even think about cutting him up? He drove across the continent, would have gone into a dangerous, quarantined zone to find you and your family, and you're just going to let Yusuf—let Yusuf—"
Her argument trailed into frustrated sobs, eyes squeezed shut and hands clenched into fists.
Fischer stood and gently wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face into his neck. He rubbed soothing circles on her back and muttered comforting nothings into her hair until she began to quiet.
Saito handed her his handkerchief when she pulled away, and she nodded her thanks, dabbing at her eyes.
"Ariadne," Cobb said, eyes compassionate but voice firm, "I'm going to let Yusuf look at Arthur's…remains." He held up a hand to stall her protest. "Please, let me explain. I know you and I haven't known each other long, and you have no one who can attest to the quality of my character, but we do have one very important thing in common: we both care for Arthur dearly."
He sighed and uncrossed his arms from his chest. "However, the Arthurs we knew were very different. And we can stay here and argue about who knew him longest, or who knew him better, and whether or not we know what's best for him, but the fact is that Arthur is dead." He seemed almost to choke on the words, but he persevered anyway.
"It's no longer about what's best for him, but what's best for everyone else. Ariadne—" He stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. "We may have known completely different Arthurs, but they were the same man. And I'm sure, if you think about it, he would have told us to do this himself, if the possibility had ever occurred to him. Yusuf can test the vaccine with his tissues, and work from there."
"I know," she sighed sadly. "I know. You're right. But I still don't think we should be making any decisions about Arthur without Eames. They're married, aren't they?"
Cobb's hand dropped from her shoulder as his eyebrows rose in surprise. "Are they?"
"They're not, Ariadne," Nash said.
"Well, I mean I know they can't be. Eames said they'd broken up, and back in the lab he said he'd marry Arthur when this was all over, but no one can be that in love and fight all the time if they're not married. So they have to be, right?"
"Oh pet, we would've been if I ever thought he'd say yes."
Eames was leaning against the wall, still dressed in his coat, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked tired—more tired than the world had the right to make anyone—but there was also and edge of something else flickering in his eyes. He nodded to Cobb.
"Eames! You're back!" Ariadne ran over and hit him with a hug at full speed. "I'm glad. I thought you were leaving. I didn't even hear you come in."
"For a while, I was," he replied, gently pulling her off and shrugging his coat onto the back of a nearby chair. "But I decided against it. And it's no wonder you didn't hear me: you were too busy discussing my personal life."
"I'm so happy you're back," Ariadne responded. "Oh! Watch out!"
"Uncle Eames! Uncle Eames!" James ran out of the other room and nearly latched himself onto Eames's leg, but Phillipa grabbed his wrist and tugged him back to where she was standing a few feet away. When she looked at Eames, there was only fear in her eyes.
"Children, I think it would be best for you to come eat some dinner," Marie suggested softly as she came out of the other room at a more sedate pace.
"I don't want to, Gramma," James said. He started trying to pull his arm out of Phillipa's grip. "Come on, Phil, let go. I wanna hug Uncle Eames."
"No," Phillipa insisted quietly. "You should stay here, James. It's not safe. He's not safe."
James stared at her, confused. "But, Phil—"
And as he looked at the small girl, Eames could see the horror in her eyes; see the bullet through Arthur's head, the blood of the man Eames had murdered. He glanced away, silent.
"I miss Uncle Arthur," James whispered when it seemed like no one else was going to speak, and Phillipa shot him a panicked look that practically screamed be quiet.
"Me, too, James," Eames sighed. "But don't worry. We'll see him soon. I promise."
Cobb sent him a sharp look, but James favored him with a wide grin. Phillipa just took another step back, shaking her head sadly.
"You really mean it?" The young boy's eyes practically sparkled as he looked up at Eames, and Eames smiled slightly and ruffled his hair.
"With all my heart."
"Yay!" James yanked his arm out of Phillipa's grip and hugged Eames's leg, his eyes shut tight in happiness. Phillipa wrapped her arms around herself, as if she were cold. She couldn't believe it. Just couldn't.
"Children, dinner," Marie insisted again, and this time James reluctantly let go of Eames to follow his grandmother into the kitchen. Phil sent one last, indescribable look over her shoulder at Eames, and then disappeared into the kitchen.
When they were gone, Cobb rounded on Eames, practically spitting fire.
"Why did you tell them something like that, Eames? Are you trying to give them false hope—"
"It's not false hope, Cobb. When I left earlier, I intended to go back and give Arthur a proper burial, but he wasn't there. He wasn't there, Cobb." The conman's eyes shone with hope, and Cobb felt his heart clench.
"Eames, that doesn't mean anything. He could have been dragged off by some wild animal." The or another zombie was unspoken, but quite clear.
"No. That's not what happened." Eames shook his head. "I've seen the tracks left by a body getting dragged away first hand, Cobb. I know what it looks like. So unless he was picked up by a pterodactyl, he got up and walked away. The infected heal, Cobb, they heal and I think that's what happened to Arthur."
Slowly, a little bit of light returned Ariadne's eyes. "A—alive? He could be okay?" She started to smile, if only a small one. "Did you hear that, Rob? Arthur's okay. He's going to be okay!"
Fischer smiled, too, if only because he was glad to see her so happy. By now, she was practically glowing. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her sigh into his neck, the warmth of her joy drying the tears out of his collar.
Suddenly, Nash piped up, "Whose phone is ringing?"
Everyone stopped to listen, and sure enough, there was the distant jingle of a ringtone coming from somewhere in the house. Out of ingrained instinct, almost everyone got up to see if they could find where it was coming from. Finally, Yusuf paused by the door of his lab.
"It's coming from down here. That would make it—"
"Arthur's," Eames finished. "I'll go—"
"No," Yusuf cut in, "I'll go get it. I know you're not stupid, but I can't chance anything happening to that draft."
Eames stepped back quickly to let Yusuf go down into the lab. A few seconds later, he returned holding Arthur's BlackBerry. He handed it to Eames.
"I don't know the number," he said, then showed it to Cobb.
Cobb checked the display screen and shook his head. "Me, either. I don't think it's from our world. Ariadne?"
"No. Just answer it," she said, and Cobb nodded and raised it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Allô, oui? Arthur? Ah, non, tu n'as pas Arthur. Qui parle?"
"C'est Dominic Cobb. Qui est à l'appareil?"
"Wait, French?" Ariadne exclaimed, listening to the crackling female voice hissing out of the phone speaker. "Cobb! Give it here!"
Bemused, Cobb lowered the phone from his ear for an instant, and Ariadne snatched it out of his hand. He blinked and opened his mouth to protest, but it was already too late: Ariadne was talking.
"You're Arthur's sister, right? Jennifer?" She sent a reassuring smile to Cobb, her heart already breaking at the thought of having to tell Jennifer that her brother had been infected. Eames, she noted, looked quite interested.
"Yeah, I'm Jenny. Look, I'm really sorry, but who are you? Where the hell is my brother? What's happened to him?"
"Actually—" Suddenly, there was a growl and the deafening pop of a shot from the other end, and Ariadne launched forward in her seat, as if she could run across the ocean and help the woman herself. "Jenny? Jenny are you all right?"
In the long minute of silence, Ariadne's face must have dropped, because Fischer laid a comforting hand on her arm.
"I'm fine," Jenny said tersely. "You still haven't answered any of my questions. Where is my brother?"
"Jenny, it's Ariadne."
"A—Ariadne? Jenny's voice was a little shaken. "You're there with Arthur? That's good. I'm glad you're safe. But please, please, I need to talk with Arty. Please tell me he's there."
"Jenny, I—" Ariadne closed her eyes, feeling fresh tears start prickling behind her eyelids. "I'm sorry."
Jenny said nothing for a long moment. "I…I can't believe it. No. That's impossible. That's impossible, right? Oh, Dieu." She let out a shuddering sob, and Ariadne heard the phone fuzz with static as Jenny lowered it from her ear.
Faintly Ariadne heard, "Roddy. Roddy. Pour l'amour de Dieu, prends le téléphone. Just take the Goddamn phone!"
She bit her lip.
"Hello?" came the voice from the other end, so heartbreakingly familiar that Ariadne had to force herself not to cry. Rodderick sounded just like his brother; a little deeper, maybe, with a more pronounced accent, but…
"Hey. It's Ariadne. Do you remember me?" It was a long shot, since she and Rodderick had never really spoken when they'd been neighbors all those years ago. Arthur was seven years older than her, and Rodderick was four years older than that.
They'd never really had much to talk about.
"What did you say to her?" he demanded. "What did you tell my sister?"
"Arthur—he got bitten." It worried her that it as getting easier to say. Easier to accept, almost, and the thought of that was too hard to handle.
"Non. He couldn't be—" Rodderick cut himself off with an aggrieved, sorrowful sigh. "And so the DeLacey family is down to three."
"Three?" Ariadne asked, alarmed. "But there are five—"
"There were five," Rodderick corrected harshly. "That was until Ma got bitten. We didn't—we couldn't shoot her. She got away. We don't know where she is now." And then, just like that, all of the anger and toughness in his voice fell away, leaving only a ringing, inconsolable sorrow. "And now you tell me that my baby brother is gone, too."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Ariadne murmured softly over and over, and she heard what she thought to be a sob before static drowned out the voices once again.
"Allô? This is Ariadne, yes?"
The strong French accent took her a minute to pick through, but she answered the affirmative when she finally realized what had been said.
"And you say my son has been infected. Arthur. Arthur DeLacey."
"Yes, sir. I saw it with my own eyes. I'm sorry about your loss. Um…je—je regrette?"
"Très bien, ma petite Ari," he said with the ghost of humor in his voice. "You have not improved since you were une petite fille."
"I know, Papa. I tried for a long time to fix that." She had grown up learning some French from the DeLaceys next door in Paris; Madame DeLacey, Rodderick and Jenny (going to college), and the DeLacey grandparents. Their father had stayed behind to manage the weapons shop and to watch over Arthur, who was still at boarding school in the US. They called every day and visited when they could. The family was from a very French background, and all of their hearts truly lay in their native land.
They had all gotten along famously, with Ariadne spending so much time at the DeLacey house (so much time indeed, that she began to call Arthur's father Papa when he visited). Arthur had moved up during summer break, and even though she was only seven and he was fourteen, they had become the closest of friends.
Then she had moved away, and America had stolen all but the basics of the eloquent language from her.
"Well, keep trying. Something tells me you will have a long time to practice before we meet again."
"Don't say that," Ariadne begged, but she knew in her heart that it was true. "I'll see you soon."
"Perhaps. But now, before I go, I insist to talk to the young man Arthur had been involving himself with. Is he there?"
Ariadne's eyes shot up to land on Eames, a kind of panicked look overtaking her features. "Um…" she hedged, while Eames's eyebrows rose. "Uh, well…"
"Put him on, s'il te plait. I very much wish to know who it is that my youngest had been seeing, and telling us all about." The weak amusement in his voice was strained, and Ariadne knew that he was trying to distract himself from the awful truth hanging over his head. She held the BlackBerry out to Eames.
"Um, Arthur's dad wants to talk to you," she said hesitantly. Eames pointed a finger innocently at himself.
"Me?"
"Yeah. He wants to know what kind of person Arthur's been seeing." She looked kind of mortified as she deposited the phone into Eames's now-outstretched palm.
"'Ello?" he said, somewhat haltingly, wondering why on earth he was so nervous. It was only a phone call, after all. A simple phone call. …To Arthur's dad. Who, come to think of it, he had never actually met. He'd heard a few stories, now and then; little details from Arthur when the man had been feeling particularly relaxed or open.
He forced himself to suck it up when he heard Nash snicker.
"British."
Eames swallowed. He supposed he now knew where Arthur got his disapproving tone from—he had never heard anyone fit so much disdain into one word.
"Why, yes, I am. Is that a problem?" He had always known Arthur was French, but he had never thought that it would cause any problems, really.
"It is only a problem if you weren't treating my son correctly. Why are you here now? Haven't you and Arthur stopped seeing each other?" The suspicion was heavy, and, quite frankly intimidating to lesser men, but Eames smiled to hear it.
"It's true that Arthur and I…had our disagreements, but in the face of everything that's happened, we decided to give it another go. And sir, I can promise you that I treat your son like a king, whenever he allows me to." He hoped that Arthur's father took that as truth, because it was. He was expecting doubt, a little skepticism, maybe. He expected a lot of things.
The laugh, though, surprised him.
"I'll bet that he didn't allow it often, Monsieur…"
And suddenly, Eames wondered if this meant he was approved of. Not that it really mattered, seeing as Eames would marry Arthur either way, but it was nice.
"Eames." He shot a brief glance at Yusuf, then said, "Sir, a friend of mine is developing a cure for the effects of the vaccine. He already has a draft of it done."
For a long moment, Arthur's father is quiet. "Is that the truth? Do you trust this man?"
"Yes, I do. So I'm sorry if this seems a trifle sudden, since you've only just met me, but I'm interested in your son's hand in marriage."
Eames didn't have to look to know that Cobb's eyes widened. He could see Ariadne's grin and Yusuf's slightly opened mouth, though, and those were enough to make him smile as well.
You're always horribly unpredictable, Arthur had told him, once.
There was silence on the end of the line as Eames supposed Arthur's father thought it over. After a long while, there was a sigh.
"You sound like the kind of person who asks just to ask. You would have done it even if I said no?"
"Would have? Sir, I fully intend to marry your son. It would be nice to have your permission, but I'm afraid you've pegged my character quite accurately. If the cure works, then I am going to marry Arthur."
"And if it doesn't?"
Eames paused, a shadow flickering across his face. Almost as if Cobb had heard what had been said, he stood and placed his hand on Eames's shoulder.
"I hadn't really thought about it," Eames answered honestly. "Because it will. But if worse comes to worst, I'll take Arthur out myself. And then—"
"I understand," Arthur's father cut in, saving Eames from elaborating. "You have my permission."
"I see—wait, what?" Eames blinked, and then grinned. "Thank you very much, sir. I know it will mean a lot to Arthur." He nodded his okay to Cobb, and Cobb stepped back, letting his hand fall from Eames shoulder.
"If you don't make him happy, you will have all of us to deal with, I hope you know."
"Well, you can have your shot at me if there's anything left once Arthur's done with me," Eames chuckled. "I'll meet you and your family soon, Monsieur DeLacey."
"Au revoir, Monsieur Eames. Oh, and do me one favor, d'accord?"
"Yes?"
"When that vaccine is made, make sure some gets to France. I would very much like to introduce you to my wife."
"Of course, sir. I can't wait to meet her. Tell Arthur's siblings that I say hello, would you?"
"I will. And rest assured that you will hear from them, and soon. Jenny will tear you to shreds."
"I wouldn't want it any other way. Goodbye, sir."
"Goodbye, Monsieur Eames."
Eames hung up and lowered the phone with a slightly bemused look on his face. He turned to face everyone to find almost everyone smiling. Fischer looked slightly confused, but happy for him, Eames supposed. Ariadne was grinning like a madwoman.
"I…think I just got permission to marry him," Eames said, and she squealed.
"Congrats!" she exclaimed, hugging him. "When all of this shit—when the world is back to normal, can I plan the bridal shower?"
The absurdity of the statement shocked Eames into silence, before he smiled gently. When all of this was over, indeed. It felt…good to think about a life beyond this hell. Normal. It had been so long since any of them had allowed themselves the luxury of feeling that way.
"Ari, I don't think Mr. DeLacey wants a bridal shower," Fischer said with a shake of his head.
"Oh, come off it, Rob. I think he'd love one. We can give him practical things, like guns and stuff. Really. You have no idea how this works."
"You're right, I don't," said Fischer, looking a little bit uncomfortable, a little nervous. Eames raised his eyebrow, and then a knowing glint flashed in his eyes. Fischer frowned at him.
"Well, then please be quiet." Ariadne kissed his cheek. "So, can I, Eames?"
"You may have to fight Mal for it," Cobb interrupted, a small smile on his face. "Or you could plan together."
"We'll see," Eames said. "It depends on whether or not Arthur accepts."
"Well," Yusuf said, standing. "Now that that's been settled, I still need a subject to study the effects of my preliminary compound."
"Yusuf—" Eames began, looking apologetic.
"Oh, have some more faith in me, Eames," Yusuf said with a half smile. "I'm the best, after all. The fate of the world on my shoulders? Not a problem." He stretched and then walked to his basement door. "Mr. Fischer, you and Mr. Saito are welcome to stay. There's plenty of room. I need to go work on the amnesiac."
"Amnesiac? For what?" Nash asked.
"For the vaccine. What's the point of saving someone if they have to live with the memories of eating their families and friends for the rest of their lives?"
With that he disappeared down the stairs, leaving the mood somewhat more solemn than before.
-ooo-
Somewhere outside of Bonanza, Colorado
"Arthur?"
"Yes, Mal?"
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, Mal."
See? Life gets better. :) I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks to those of you who have already reviewed, and please do it again! :D See you all next Friday!