Ten
"Look, Carnival is coming up, the bars are practically on permanent happy hour, why the bloody hell wouldn't we go out?" was the last thing Arthur remembered of the previous night.
He'd left Ariadne's office with a last fleeting kiss and had been ambushed on his way to his rental car by Eames, who else? After a long argument, Arthur had given in and... blank. He'd drunk so much that night that even the sober parts were a blackout.
The great thing was, the pounding in his head and the sting on his abdomen was enough to blotch out the crushing weight of his guilt and the general depression the last few weeks had given him.
For Eames, this was pretty much mission accomplished. They weren't dead and Arthur wasn't moping, just groaning. It had been his intention to take Arthur's mind off of things, but the night got a little worse than he imagined and the last thing he remembered was entering a tattoo parlour with his drunken best friend. That explained the raw pain he felt in the small of his back, but he was too hung over to check exactly what it was.
So, when Arthur pulled up to the warehouse the next morning with shades disguising his blood shot eyes, he pretty much got hell from Dom. He'd wandered in, white t-shirt already sticking to him in the heat of their location and Dom had pulled him to the side.
"What's with the shades? You're inside," he pointed out quietly, already suspecting Eames was behind it.
"Jesus, why are you shouting? You're making my head pound," Arthur said, his jaw slack and his eyebrows furrowed.
Dom yanked his sunglasses from his face and did the most dramatic eye roll of the century when he confirmed Arthur had a hangover that registered as Eames-style on the scale. "Tom's rubbing off on you, huh?"
"I'll say," Arthur replied, rubbing his eyes wearily and trying not to think of the burning pain on his chest. "Where is the stupid bastard?"
As if to answer, a car rolled up outside and Eames stepped out, pale, sunken eyes and ruffled hair. "What... an... asshole," Arthur muttered and wandered off for a coffee.
As Eames trudged over the gravel to the warehouse, he tried to wake himself up. He pulled his crumpled black t-shirt straight and tried to flatten his hair, but when his hand met his head, he found it was inches shorter than it used to be. "Shit..." he muttered. "A haircut and a tattoo?"
As he pulled the warehouse door closed behind him, wincing at its clattering sound, he saw Dom metres away, glaring at him. "Loving the new hair, Tom."
"You bloody better, you would not believe what I went through last night to get it," he replied with a half-hearted grin, blinking rapidly in the horrible light.
"I believe you got Arthur and yourself drunk when you were designated to be working the next morning," Dom said, wearily shaking his head.
Eames sighed, trying to blotch out Dom and his bloody whining. Did the man even know how to have fun, any more? And why was Arthur's predicament always his fault? "I am responsible for myself and myself only. Stop pawning Arthur's behaviour off on me," was Eames' reply.
"Yeah, I can't possibly expect you to take responsibility for a depressed twenty-three year old," Dom snapped sarcastically.
"Oh, just shut up, Dom! You're not my freaking mum!" Eames retorted and sauntered off to the kitchen.
"Do you want to just go into the dream today? I mean, the headache will hurt less down there," Ariadne offered with a grin, poking Arthur between the ribs.
She caught the point that had hurt all day, causing Arthur to wince sharply. He did his best to contain himself and downplayed it, hoping she wouldn't investigate. Even he didn't know what was wrong, but his head hurt so much he quite frankly didn't care. "Yeah, let's just-"
"Arthur, what's wrong?" Ariadne asked, looking very concerned.
"Heck, I don't know. It's been bothering me all day," he replied, leaning back against one of the tables.
Very gently, Ariadne pulled up Arthur's t-shirt, trying not to stare too much at his muscular body, marred with scars and bullet wounds from his years as an outlaw. She gasped when she came across the sore point. "Arthur... that's..." and she stopped there, becoming speechless.
The Point Man jumped, yanking up his t-shirt to see. For a second, he was horrified that maybe he had a stupid unicorn tattoo or something. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw, a small smile crossing his lips. A bright die and bishop, side by side, above two intertwined, calligraphic 'A's. "That's not too bad," he muttered.
"You didn't know you had a tattoo of our totems and initials?" she asked in disbelief, giggling at his surprise.
"I was drunk!" he pointed out with a smile.
"So, you don't like it?" she asked cautiously, gazing up at him with her big, round eyes.
He kissed her softly. "I love it," he replied.
With that, Ariadne pulled his t-shirt back down, covering the pink, puckered skin that surrounded the tattoo. "Come on, we'd better get some work done!"
Arthur groaned, preferring to just enjoy this beautiful woman than work. But, Ariadne tugged him out of the office and they went to Yusuf's room, which had five lawn chairs circled around a small table. She fetched the PASIV from the closet and set it down on the table, pulling two cables from it and handing one to Arthur. "Could you put us under, Yusuf?" she asked.
Yusuf looked up from his papers and chemicals, as if just realising they were there, and nodded. "Of course," he said, "How long?".
"Five minutes should do the trick," she replied with a smile.
Arthur lay back on one of the lawn chairs and punctured his scabby right wrist with the PASIV's needle, strapping it on and keeping it secure. The familiar pinch of the needle was almost comforting and normal through the pounding in his head as he leaned back and shut his eyes.
The next thing he knew, he was in a much cooler environment than the warehouse in Brazil. As his brown eyes fluttered open, he noted the incredibly weak ache in his forehead. "Dreams work miracles," he muttered as he took in his environment. He was sat behind a computer that had gone to its screensaver. The computer looked like it had seen its best days long ago, as did the rest of the dull, grey room. There was only one other inhabitant, Ariadne, who sat behind her own desk with her own elderly computer. "Hey," he said with a boyish smile, noticing there was no longer a pain in his abdomen.
Ariadne just giggled and stood up, pulling her favourite red jacket tighter around her. She'd missed wearing it in Rio's stifling heat. "Want to have a look around?"
Arthur nodded and together, they began touring the office building, checking the paradoxes were in order and every fine detail was in place. Ariadne was impressed that he'd kept with the boring, strict look of the office building she had envisaged. After all, this was the type of building Medrar was used to, according to Eames. He might catch on if he appeared in a building customised to suit Arthur's extravagant tastes.
As for Arthur's attire, he was back to stiff-collared shirts, handsome waistcoats and gelled back hair. In all honesty, Ariadne missed seeing him in skin tight white t-shirts and jeans with a lot of his dark hair cut off, but she was glad to see the real Arthur back, in his sharp, smart suits.
"This is really good!" she said, gesturing around at his practically flawless interpretation of her drawings. "But what else should I expect from a Point Man?"
"Always expect nothing less than the best from me, Ariadne," he instructed, his shrewd, cocky smile lighting up his eyes.
Ariadne could only gaze in awe at his perfect recollection. It was amazing, really, to think he'd spent the whole of last night drinking and he could still produce this.
They toured Arthur's dream until Ariadne was satisfied, ending their walk around back where they started, in their office. Once inside, Arthur inspected his tattoo once more, still unable to believe he had it. It was beautiful, as was the woman it was for, and Arthur found himself thinking he was the luckiest man in the world. "I really do have it all, don't I?"
Ariadne looked to him, her eyes sparkling with adoration. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"I have my dream job, quite literally, I have an amazing sort-of brother standing in for my fuck-up of a real one, I can afford all of life's little pleasures and the most beautiful woman in the world has kissed me," he answered, perching himself on the corner of his desk and re-buttoning his shirt.
Ariadne went bright red and took one of his spindly hands in her own, small and childlike. "Who is this woman you speak of? You're making me jealous!"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" he asked and gently took her into his arms, the weight of her body against his was such a comforting feel. He would trade his twenty years with his fake Ariadne just to have this moment with her. "That reminds me, why architecture?"
Ariadne smiled up at him, losing herself in his smouldering eyes. "Every building out there is someone's dream that has become a reality, you know? Every building has a story behind it. When was it designed? When did it become more than paper and graphite? When did it become real?"
It only took Arthur a second to decide he loved the real Ariadne's answer so much more than his Ariadne's. "She was just a shade of you, the Ariadne I made for myself. She wasn't nearly so perfect, yet so imperfect. I think I've done it, Ari, I think I've let her die."
A single tear rolled down Ariadne's cheek as she kissed him. Arthur's words brought Dom to her mind, as they were scarily similar to what Dom said to Mal's shade, the time his projections of her stopped.
But as Arthur pulled her close, his lips moving with hers, his arms coiling around her waist, she lost all sense of guilt. All that mattered to her right now was Arthur. Ever so carefully, she opened his shirt and broke away from him, just to marvel at the tattoo on his sculpted chest. "It's beautiful," she whispered, watching as her tear fell from her cheek and rolled down his chest.
"So are you, Ariadne," Arthur replied and gently resumed their kiss, his tongue grazing over her teeth.
Ariadne all but leapt from his arms as the door opened. For a second, she feared projections, ready to kill. But the truth scared her so much more. Dom.
Arthur went rigid, his jaw going slack and his eyes going wide as Dom's face turned a dangerous shade of red. The extractor was frozen, his eyes darting between Ariadne, Arthur and the tattoo on his chest, practically screaming betrayal.
"Dom-" Arthur said and found he couldn't possibly say anything more.
Dom seemed to just stand for a second, looking over his girl, his Point Man and the tattoo. He felt physically sick and the dam holding back his fury was fast collapsing. "What have you got to say, Arthur? That you're sorry? And that it's all a huge misunderstanding? Or can we skip to the part where I beat you up?" he asked quietly and cruelly.
Arthur closed his eyes, bracing himself for what would follow. There was the sound of quick footsteps, a cry from Ariadne and a sharp blow to Arthur' stomach had him falling from the desk to his knees. Dom commanded him to get up and he did as he was told. One to the eye and he cried out. Ariadne was screaming at Dom to stop, telling Arthur to fight back, but Arthur ignored her. He deserved it, after all, even if he didn't regret it.
Arthur's eyes flickered open, his vision blurry and bloody. He watched in horror as Ariadne ran at Dom and he pushed her to the floor. White hot rage filled him. "Don't touch her."
Dom shoved him back into the wall, pinning him there. "I should tell you the same thing, but it's too fucking late! How do you feel, Arthur? How do you feel?! How does messing around with your best friend's girl feel? Pretty damn good, obviously, 'cause you didn't fucking think about me!"
"Dom, calm down!" Arthur yelled as the music started to break through, fast and rumbling.
The extractor jammed his elbow into Arthur's windpipe, causing him to wheeze even more. "Don't tell me to calm down, you are screwing my girlfriend behind my back, you fucking moron! You have a tattoo! A tattoo with that bitch's totem!"
Then, they timed out, waking up with a start.
Arthur was awake and alert, as angry as could be. "You're dead! How dare you call her a bitch!" he screamed, getting the needle out of his arm and yanking Dom from his deck chair. Yusuf looked up, stunned, unable to do anything.
With a god awful thwack, Arthur's fist slammed into Dom's face. Dom stumbled back, crying out in pain as blood started running from his nose. The Point Man was younger, faster, stronger, physically superior, not to mention cunning. Dom knew he wouldn't win, but he would sure as hell go down with a fight.
"What the hell's going on?" Eames demanded, appearing at the doorway.
"Why don't you ask your buddy? He's been fucking my girlfriend, after all!" Dom hollered back.
Eames eyes went wide, glaring at Arthur. The Point Man was distracted as he took in the look of disappointment on Eames' face. He was jolted awake when Dom's hand collided with Arthur's nose. As Arthur was blinded by pain, he felt Dom's kick to his crotch and he doubled over, screaming out. "Dom, stop it, for fuck's sake! Stop it! Maybe we should just leave it for today! Give us a chance to clear our heads, yeah?" Eames cried, pretty much ripping his hair out.
"Gladly!" Dom snapped, grabbing up his car keys and storming out.
Yusuf all but ran out, leaving Ariadne standing there, glancing between the furious brothers. "You too!" Eames said, pointing at the door. "I want to have a little word with him."
Ariadne threw Arthur a worried glance but, in the end, buckled under Eames' ferocious glare. "Goodbye," she muttered, leaving without another word.
Now, Arthur was left to face Tom, who radiated disappointment more than anything.
A/N: I'll be honest, that was great fun to write! I want to say, if I'm ever updating too fast for you to keep up, just shout! It's getting trickier to write a new chapter everyday anyway, with me being back at school. Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think via the review button! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Oh, and what do you think of Arthur's tattoo?
