Capitulation
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception.
Note: No one said anything about Arthur being in love with Zoe. Just saying. And what's so bad about a first love anyway? :P
Awesome Interactive Fun Time: Download/Youtube 'Collide' by Howie Day. Hit play. Repeat is advised, unless you are a machine and can read the next fifteen hundred words in three and a half minutes. I prefer the acoustic version myself, but either is great. :)
I can feel your heartbeat through my shirt. – 'Just Say Yes' – Snow Patrol (Don't own. Don't own 'Collide' either. Just love them.)
Chapter Fourteen
Of course he's not going to let her ultimatum go without condition.
"You remember what you promised me?" It's more of a statement than a question. An assertion really, because if she remembers anything, it's her promise.
"Yes."
Arthur's eyes glint with that gathering darkness as he moves towards her. Ariadne has to squander the instinct of flight that knots her stomach and sets the hair at the back of her neck on edge.
"So you're going to run without looking back when I tell you to go?"
She nods (slowly), knowing already that she isn't going to like where this is going. The point man continues to advance and the architect stays rooted, her faith in him trumping her brain's warning of impending danger. "When there's a way out you're going to take it, whether or not I have the same opportunity."
Another nod; another step forward. Ariadne's heart begins once again to roar in her ears.
"You are my shadow. Put your hand on my back and stay behind me no matter what." They're less than a foot apart now. The architect, becoming distracted with the dwindling distance between them, has to remind herself to keep agreeing to these conditions and rules that are steadily becoming harder to hear.
"He might pull us into a dream. If he dreams up weaponry, which he most likely will, first chance you get take a gun." Arthur's hand reaches up. She's already frozen (realizing) when his thumb and index finger brush her temple in the lightest of touches she's ever experienced. "Right here. It won't hurt. I promise."
It's a long several seconds before Ariadne can breathe again. His stare is dark and intent, even as his hand tucks a straying hair behind her ear. The architect has to focus all of her energy into not losing focus. Somehow her mind still strays. "Did you love her?" The question tumbles from her lips before she can realize what she's asking.
Arthur's hand falls to his side as his eyes become shadowed again with that heart wrenching sadness. "I didn't then, not truly in the romantic sense. There were feelings certainly, but we never got the chance to really figure it all out. I do love the memory of her; the person and the friend she was to me. Sometimes I wonder, but then I realize that she'd never have stayed with me after Cobb's proposal. Zoe's moral compass was always so precise."
He smiles very faintly, his gaze far away. Ariadne wants to avert her eyes from such an obviously personal moment, but she is transfixed. Arthur's focus is still long gone as he continues. "She believed everything happened for a reason, even as she lay dying in the hospital. She said something was going to happen, something good, and I suppose she was right because if the accident hadn't happen I never would have..."
The point man trails off, and Ariadne realizes that his eyes have suddenly returned to hers. She swallows. Whispering (because this is not a normal volume kind of conversation) she asks "Never would have what?"
Arthur takes a breath, so slowly and deeply that she can track the complete rise and fall of his chest. "Never would have ended up here." His right hand begins to rise again. As it moves, Ariadne can feel it; that thick, overwhelming tension that permeates the air whenever they stand like this, staring at each other. Her heart beats faster and faster, becoming louder and louder, so much so that she almost misses his next words. "With you."
His calloused hand cups her cheek almost warily. Ariadne's mind whirs with some emotion she can't pin down, (anxietylongingconfusionwant) trying to figure out what exactly is happening here. "Arthur?" She's still whispering.
"Yes?" He is now whispering too.
"I'm scared."
Ariadne is afraid of too many things to count, starting with Connor Black and ending with this feeling from somewhere deep inside she's never been; this feeling that only Arthur stirs in her. She's afraid because they're standing in her room and the door is closed and there's no way for this moment to be broken. Eames will not visit her. Whatever this thing is—this thing between them—it is their business, and he knows this. So there's no way out.
His eyes flicker down to her lips, and back again. She's sure of it this time. "Me too."
There is a long pause, in which Arthur's thumb traces the curve of her cheekbone and Ariadne shivers. She can feel herself getting lost in that darkness of his eyes, so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The architect is unable to halt her body's movements as the space between them is basically reduced to nothing. His unique, incredible, comforting scent is dizzying. Arthur's gaze slides down to her mouth again.
"Ari?"
She can't reply, unable to summon enough air because her brain is hoarding it all trying to understand why his lips are suddenly so interesting. Ariadne's eyes find Arthur's once more, and she is mesmerized by their infinite depth.
"Can I...?"
"Yes."
She barely breathes it. Without taking his eyes off hers, Arthur slides his right hand lower, reaching around with long and nimble fingers and gently holding her neck. Her breath is now coming with a trembling in her lungs. Ariadne can only wonder at the intense concentration on Arthur's face as he touches his forehead to hers, and the way that his rigid features soften as they stay like that for several seconds. He looks so vulnerable in this moment, and that is the most frightening feeling of all.
Ariadne can't stop staring. His eyes—dark and deep and smouldering with something that looks a lot like desire—reel her in. Forgetting about Connor Black and the mess he's made and how afraid she is for Kira, the architect can only see Arthur. She can only feel the strength of his grip and warmth of their closeness and the way that her heart races. As Arthur's head lowers and their noses brush and she closes her eyes, Ariadne's hand curls around her totem.
Right before their lips meet, she swears her heart stops.
.a.
It's a slow, sweet, gentle kiss. Ariadne marvels at the incredible sense of weightlessness that spreads from the pit of her stomach to everywhere else. Every one of her nerve endings sings as she tentatively returns Arthur's careful pressure against her lips. Just before she runs out of air, he gently breaks away, just far enough. Looking at him in breathless disbelief, the architect can feel tears building in her eyes at his tender, warm smile.
It would be so easy, she thinks, to kiss him again. He's a heartbeat away. But she's suddenly overwhelmed with the fear that this isn't real, and pulls the bishop out instead. Ariadne refuses to let her eyes leave Arthur's, reaching blindly for the surface of her desk. She flicks the top of her totem, and after a moment the familiar 'thunk' sounds reassuringly (terrifyingly) in the otherwise silent room. Ariadne hadn't even realized a tear had fallen until Arthur catches it on his index finger.
She opens her mouth, looking for the right words to say, and then closes it upon the realization that she'll probably never find them. Instead, Ariadne's cheeks dust pink and she smiles weakly. Arthur's hand tilts her chin up, his eyes searching; searching for some sign or hint that she doesn't want this. But he won't find any because Ariadne has never wanted anything more, and the rush of that bewildering realization causes her heart to skip a beat.
Their lips collide again, stronger this time, although Ariadne can still feel Arthur's steady control and is glad for it. If they go beyond this—slow, careful—she might lose herself completely. Her arms snake around his neck as his fingers make their way into her hair, causing delicious tingles to run down her spine. Tears are still falling from her eyes—she can taste salt—but Arthur doesn't move away. They're moving, slowly but surely, and soon the architect is startled to feel the back of her knees knock against the end of her bed.
Before she can fall gracelessly and take Arthur with her however, his free hand finds the small of her back. "Easy, Ari," he murmurs against her mouth, the words sounding from deep inside his throat. Ariadne shivers again, letting Arthur hold her steady as she bends backwards, reaching out a hand behind her to find the mattress before her back hits the comforter. They move with a sort of breathtaking seamlessness, and within moments his hands are on either side of her head, easing his weight away from hers as they break contact.
She's still crying, and she doesn't know why. Ariadne laughs weakly without real humour as Arthur lies down beside her and gathers her in his arms. Tears leak into the silk fabric of his loosened red tie. "I'm sorry," she gets out, trying to pull herself together. "We just—" The words, still not even formed, stick in her throat. Ariadne tries again. "I'm still—"
"I know," he hums, low and reassuring, running his fingers through her hair. It's a wonderful feeling. "I know. I probably shouldn't have—"
"No!" An indescribable sense of panic floods her. "It's okay. I-I wanted you to."
Arthur's grip on her waist tightens. "And now?"
Ariadne puts her hand over Arthur's heart. His free hand covers hers almost instantly. The beat beneath her hand is steady and strong, comforting like a favourite lullaby. "I still want you to."
His hand squeezes hers.
"But..." She shifts, turning so she can see his face properly. "What do we..."
"Do now?" Arthur finishes for her, the amused, patient almost smile reappearing on his face for the first time in what seems like forever. His hair is mussed from her fingers, collar crooked, tie nearly undone, and the sight of the perfect point man in such dishevelment is somewhat thrilling. Biting her lip nervously, the architect nods. Arthur's eyes darken with seriousness, tracing the length of her cheek with a finger and wiping at her tears with the pad of his thumb. "Well, that depends."
"On?" Ariadne prompts, that anxiousness from earlier returning in the pit of her stomach.
"On how decisively I can deal with Connor. I won't have him jeopardizing your safety by exposing us to other extractors and clients. A lot of people would probably like to see me dead, and getting to you would be the fastest way to ensure my capture."
Stunned at this quasi-admission of her importance to him, Ariadne feels her face warming and averts her eyes. "And if you can't?" she asks after finding the courage to look up again. It's yet another question she'd almost been too afraid to ask. Arthur is silent for a long time, and her stomach drops.
"We'd have to leave Paris. At least, until he remembers that this is about me and not you. You could come back, and I'd just keep going. Find the odd job along the way. Either that or I have to kill him."
Ariadne's blood runs cold. "Let's say Connor's...dealt with." She takes a deep breath. "What then? What about everyone else who wants to hurt you?"
"Manageable as long as I keep moving, which I do between jobs anyway. It's not fair of me to ask you to leave everything you have here to traipse around the world with me, and if we regularly take extraction jobs, globetrotting is part of the deal."
"I've always wanted to see the world," she says, more in a manner of defence than anything else.
"What about your degree?"
"Online courses." Ariadne shifts up in his arms into a sitting position. "I'm almost done, anyway."
"And you don't want to attend graduation with your class?"
"Do I look like the kind of girl who has hoards of friends to go to graduation with?" She rolls her eyes, knowing that the stuffy ceremony with hundreds of strangers falls far on the docket of important things right now.
His lips twitch. Ariadne knows what this is. This is an attempt to cover up the inevitable idea that he is going to leave her. That this thing they've started isn't going to last, because the job is dangerous and being together just creates an easier target to hit once they pissed off the wrong people. Dom and Mal flash in a foreboding warning in her mind's eye, and Connor's smug smile causes her to shake her head in frustration and brewing anger.
"Ari..." Arthur takes her chin in his hand, tilting her eyes to his. She wants to glare. It's hard to glare when he's looking at her like that. "There is another option. We could stop. We could stop taking jobs, or at least stop taking every job that comes along. You can have a normal life, stay in school, maintain something that resembles a relationship with your family, with Professor Miles."
He's trying to coax her. Mind swimming, Ariadne tries to steady her thoughts enough to consider this. No more dreaming? No more pure creation? On the other hand, she knows that even working with Arthur after this will make it infinitely more dangerous, and even so for Eames, Yusuf, and whoever else would happen to work with them, hire them, be the next mark...A dull pain aches in her temples. The architect finds herself thinking of Cobb and his deserted, crumbling dreamscape city.
The thing she remembers most about it, even more than the breathtaking impossibility, was the suffocating, grey loneliness. Ariadne thinks of Arthur; irrefutably the steadiest, most reassuring presence she's ever had in her life, even more than her own parents. She thinks of his smiles lines, his dark eyes, his immaculate hair, and impeccable (sexy as hell) three piece suits. She thinks of the way his lips felt, against hers, against the back of her hand, against her forehead. Ariadne tries to imagine—after absolutely everything—having to watch him leave her.
She can't see it. The mere idea actually causes her mind to draw a blank. No matter what happened, she knows that wants Arthur in her life. Needs him.
"What about you?" She demands once she's found her voice. "What are you going to do without jobs and dreaming? I've never...would you be okay without it?"
Arthur's fingers find the pulse point of her neck. She knows he can feel how her heart is racing. "I'm sure I'd find something to occupy my time."
Feeling overcome, Ariadne closes her eyes.
"I want to keep you safe. I want to have a chance at...this." He speaks with a quiet, burning gravity that makes goose bumps rise on her skin.
"I know," she says softly, opening her eyes. The architect will probably never get used to being the object of Arthur's complete, intense focus and attention. "Me too." There is a pause, and Ariadne smiles to herself in realization. "So there is a thing. With us."
"A little slow on the uptake are we, Ari?" he says, his eyes laughing. Flushing, she drops her eyes. "But yes," he concedes in that deep, wonderful timbre that she can feel reverberating through his chest. "There is a thing." The word comes out sounding distasteful. Ariadne realizes quickly that a word like thing—too vague and ambiguous un-Arthur—bothers him. But she has no others. Not now.
"I'm worried," she tells him, able to admit it like she was able to admit her fear: her (now quelled) fear of this thing spiralling into a disaster that would forever stain her bedroom floor. In response, Arthur brushes her hair from her left shoulder to expose her collarbone.
"Trust me?"
"Yes."
He leans forward and her instinctively back, turning back into her pillows and becoming fully horizontal again. Their eyes are locked until Arthur's head tilts lower, and Ariadne can't hold down the sharp inhale as his lips brush her scar. That part of her brain able to form tangible thought disintegrates as Arthur begins to leave a trail of kisses from her scar, up her neck, until at last his lips touch hers again in a soft, chaste kiss. Feeling somewhat dizzy and definitely incoherent, Ariadne can only stare up at those dark, dark eyes in question.
"It's going to be okay," he tells her, with such a deep conviction that she can't help in this moment to believe him. Instead of trying to speak she leans up to capture his lips, and as the kiss deepens and they sink further into the bed, Ariadne thinks she can feel his heart, beating in a furious rhythm next to hers. It's strong and wild and they're in no way syncopated— because she's not sure that's even possible—but she can feel him and that's what matters.
Author's Note: I literally just accidentally deleted the entire chapter. Thank God for the undo button. WOO FLUFF. Take it people, because that's all you're gonna get for a while. :P This is my last night technically on vacation, but we're staying overnight in a closer town before heading all the way home. Small children just can't handle seven hour drives. I actually ended up having lots of time over these few days, so here it is. I hope it was as good as whatever you guys imagined, because this is what I did.
Annie