Hooded

by PrettyPrettyPlease

Ariadne's aspirations for the Dream Share world send her down a dark tunnel into the world of eco-terrorists. Can Arthur and the team save her from herself? "What if you forget everything we mean to each other?" "You'll remind me." A/A fic but the team (Cobb, Eames, Yusuf) are heavily featured. Some OC's. May get dark.

21. Up or Up On

Welp, I suppose erryone didn't like the last chapter very much, hahaha. One of my irl friends has been reading it and giving me feedback and she said when it got to the part that Ariadne 'blew up on the table' she quit reading and was super mad at me. Lol. Then I explained that if she kept going she would've seen that it was Arthur's imagination. So if that happened to you…sorry I like to freak people out…but Ariadne is alive.

Also, I thought more peeps would enjoy the slight Arthur backstory. Oh well.

Thanks to: Lauraa-x your reviews are always funny. In a good way. Yay. Thanks so much! and Birdy21: So glad someone did! YAYYY!

Chapter 21: Up or Up On.

Arthur sat in the bed reading through one of his favorite books—Catcher in the Rye—again. All the lights besides the lamps on either side of the bed were off but his eyes were used to squinting in half darkness. His leg was comfortably crossed over his other as he flipped the page before a figure padded into the bedroom. He looked up and grinned, "There's my gorgeous girl. Working hard?" Ariadne had been holed up in her office, designing and whatever else since the time he got back from his work. He cooked dinner for them but she took her plate into her private space and ate there. The Architect had of course cared for the other residents as needed but as usual, kept busy and to herself. In plain view of Arthur, her sweater was pulled over her head and tossed in a corner and replaced by a t-shirt. He watched appreciatively (even putting his book down on the nightstand) while she stepped out of her jeans and into her track shorts. At long last, she climbed onto the bed. The Point Man attacked her neck with sweet wet kisses and planted a firm on her cheek, "Mmm, you taste good."

Ariadne didn't giggle like she used to when he would say that. And she definitely didn't acknowledge his affections. Instead she panned, "Eames called."

The man's joyful mood sobered up, "Oh?"

"His team is in a bind. Their architect quit halfway through and they need someone," explained the girl, first, then she looked at Arthur indifferently for his reaction. By 'someone' both parties understood she meant herself.

Arthur attempted to be diplomatic. He knew the second he closed off his mind she would get angry and defensive. So he sat Indian style and looked at her intently, ready to discuss it, "You tell him we'd talk about it?"

"I told him yes." Ariadne corrected in a tone that meant she didn't need his approval, nor did she seek it. "My bag is already packed," was the nail in the coffin.

The Point Man blinked. These were decisions they needed to hash out together. There was so much more involved now when one of them picked up and left. Perhaps, he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe she would only be gone a few days, in which case he would drop it. And that would put him in good graces. Or better than the graces he was currently in, "How long is it?"

The woman hadn't batted an eye when she stated, "Three months."

"Three m—," Arthur's eyes widened and his mind raced like crazy. Her leaving for three months was impossible…that would create so much havoc. The man tried to reason with her, "Baby, the kids can't even spend one whole night at your parents without you. And you're going to up and leave them for three months?"

Ariadne sighed, "Three months, Arthur, not a lifetime."

"That's a lifetime to them." He pointed out rather upset. Not for his own sake but for the kids. The both of them were mama's babies. They were still young and had separation anxiety, especially the youngest. Every other night, one or both of them begged to sleep with Arthur and Ariadne. When Ariadne had to go on a weekend seminar trip, the two were hysterical. They wanted to call her every couple hours, they clung to Arthur like a lifeline and he even had to give the youngest one of their mother's shirts to ball up and sleep with like a teddy bear just to feel close. And on top of all of that, it had been a weekend so Arthur was able to coddle them and make up for Ariadne's absence. But three months? "And I work. I can't take off from the firm and turn down all those clients to watch them all day." He couldn't be there with them (he wasn't able to or he would gladly) all day, all week, for that long. He wasn't his own boss anymore. So to the children it would feel like three months without both Mommy and Daddy. He would only be able to wake them up in the morning, tuck them in at night, and do some major daddy bonding time Saturdays and Sundays.

"Easton's in kindergarten." Ariadne pointed out. Their little boy recently turned five and was able to start his first year at school. Their son would be gone from eight to two, anyway. "And we moved back near my family for a reason, right? Any of them can watch Allivia and pick up Easton."

The Point Man squinted his eyes at her. Was she really suggesting they ask her parents and aunts and uncles and cousins to step in as mother's and father's for them for THREE months? That was too much. How would they explain it? And how was she not as affected as he was thinking about how miserable the children would be without her? "Do you hear yourself?"

Groaning, she got back out of bed, "It's the opportunity to dream again. You know how much I miss it."

Five years. They'd made it five years without giving into the urge. They could keep going…Arthur sympathized with her while she paced the room. Good, he detected some guilt and second thoughts about her hasty decision. The mother was undoubtedly thinking of her young but trying to walk it off. "I miss it too….but you and Easton and Alli are worth it. You three are more than enough for me."

"But it's not enough for me!" The truth came out when she halted and spun to face him. Face flushed, hands flexed, "I'm twenty seven years old and all I've done is carry, bear and chase two babies for you."

Two beautiful babies. Two beautiful, walking, smiling persons of evidence that they loved each other. He wasn't questioning if she regretted them, really. It was more of a retort because he felt that was a dig at him, "Are you saying you wish they weren't born?"

"No, I love them." Ariadne didn't hesitate in her firm declaration. Nor waver when she added, "I don't regret them." Her eyes were hard and he sensed hurt brewing and fixing to be sent his way.

"What does that mean?" Arthur bit, threw the covers off and stalked from the bed to her, "You regret me? You regret being my wife?!"

"More than anything." Ariadne spat. "I only married you because I was still vulnerable and scared and I thought I needed protection. But I don't need protection anymore!" It wasn't the truth but a life full of dreams she hadn't seen come to fruition and pent up unhappiness was surfacing.

Cut deeply by his wife's heated shouts, he shouted back, "You are a cold-hearted bitch, you know that? After everything I've donefor you?! Everything I've put myself through for you!" How dare she be so ungrateful? How dare she act like the only reason they were together was because she was pitiful and he was simply there at the right time? They were together because they were the love of each other's life. Because he put her first above everything.

"Everything you've done for me?" Ariadne scoffed at him, viciously, "You didn't rescue me from the Woods. You didn't even find me. Someone else did. All you did was collect and hover. And you didn't nurse me back to health, you didn't help me build back my strength and stamina, and you definitely didn't sit through psychotherapy with me. Yusuf, Saito's doctors and Yossu and Mako did that! All you did was breathe down my neck, put together your little files and tell people how to do what they already knew how to do." The Architect was seething. The Point Man shook his head, disbelieving everything falling from her mouth. He'd risked life and limb and suffered a great amount of emotional trauma for her during the time of the Hoods. He almost yelled something just as spiteful back but her fury was faster than his, "You tricked me into giving up everything I ever wanted—everything I ever worked for—to suffer through five years of a miserable marriage!"

Arthur sneered as he towered over her, "I've given you everything you've ever asked for," pointed his finger emphatically at her, "I've leapt at your call, bent heaven and earth to grant your every wish!"

"My wish was to be an Architect!" Alight with fire, her eyes flew over him. Her hands up in the air.

"You are one!" Revised the Point Man for her.

The once sweetened caramel orbs turned into slits. Ariadne jutted her hip to the side and placed her hands there while proudly (sarcastically) stating, "I design portables for schools and remodel buildings into space for Popeye's Chicken." She dropped the act and her hands, "From home! I want adventure!"

Arthur laughed albeit humorlessly, "Well I'm sorry but you're a mother now! You can't trot the globe, shoot people and screw around anymore!"

"Bet that was your plan all along! That's why I got knocked up so soon after our wedding, huh?! SO YOU COULD TRAP ME!"

Arthur's voice turned into its old stern businessman tone. His all knowing Point Man tone. Now, his disciplining fatherly tone. It was steel, "It may be hard to believe, Ariadne, but once upon a time, you loved me!"

"I NEVER LOVED YOU." The woman shoved her husband away from her, "I HATE YOU!" Those seven words were enough to drown the flames Arthur felt. All of a sudden, his iron shield was torn through and he cracked into a million tiny pieces. The next two words took those pieces and blasted each into another oblivion.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

The two parents froze upon hearing the raspy little voice. Ariadne flushed and she immediately quieted her demeanor prior to following the sound with her eyes. She didn't have to see him to know it was the little olive-skinned boy who spoke. His black hair was tussled and sticking up (always the same cowlick that she had to smooth down. Like the reason his father gelled his own hair so religiously). He looked troubled standing there in his dinosaur footie with red claw feet, a frown where his dimples were supposed to be and small eyebrows knitted amongst freckles. Easton held his baby sister's hand tightly in his. The two children were very close. Often, when one got up, they would go get the other up. Allivia was three years old and came up to Easton's sternum. Alli's light chestnut pigtails had wisps falling out from her rigorous sleep. Standing (more confused than anything) in a baby yellow and white daisies nightgown, she matched her brother's frown.

Ariadne let out a puff of air. At once the mean woman was gone and the nurturing, dulcet mommy was there. She gaited to kneel in front of the two, taking on of their wrists in each hand, "What are you two doing up?"

"You is screaming." Allivia nodded and then her large innocent eyes batted up to Arthur, "Where go mommy and daddy's inside voice? "

The Point Man melted, "No we're—" He casually strolled over to stand behind Ariadne, "we didn't realize how loud we were talking is all. We're sorry, baby."

Easton knew better. He was too intuitive for his own good (a trait of Ariadne's). His eyes slid from his dad's to his mom's sadly, "You were fighting again." The boy shared a look with his sister and then they both looked at Ariadne first, then Arthur and he complained, "We don't like it when you fight."

"I know…" Arthur closed his eyes, "I don't either."

The Architect cupped Easton's cheek and smiled, "I promise we'll stop right now, ok?" He nodded in response.

The small girl tackled Ariadne by throwing her arms around her neck, "I want sleep wiff you and Daddy." Ariadne looked over her shoulder at Arthur then back with an apologetic kiss on the baby's forehead, "Not tonight. How about Easton? Can you sleep with him?" Allivia gasped happily then hugged Easton's waist just as fervently while nodding.

With it all settled, Arthur longed for the night to be over. So he played the part of dad and ordered, "Ok let's get back to bed, then." He followed behind them; Easton gripped Ariadne's hand with both of his as they walked and held it to his chest and Alli was on Ariadne's hip, arms around and head in the crook of her mommy's neck. The man leant against the doorframe and watched them adoringly while his wife sat on the edge of the bed, tucked them in and handed them their stuffed animals. He would never tire of observing her while she mothered their babies. "Mommy?" Easton asked again, once they were all settled.

"Yes, Sweetie?" Lovingly, Ariadne's fingers ran through his hair.

"Do you really hate Daddy?" The husband and father tensed as he saw her tense. He heard her stammer and then sigh, "Well I—I love you two very much. And without your father, I wouldn't have you." Sometimes the question is answered by means of no answer. Arthur felt himself tear up at the implication that she actually meant what was said during their argument. "Kisses." Ariadne requested. The mother leant down and kissed each child on the cheek and waited for them to do the same. Her finger poked Allivia's nose, "Sweet dreams," and then Easton's, "and sleep tight."

"And don't let the projections bite!" Easton smugly added. Some dreamshare facts may have slipped through in parenting…They didn't know about shared dreaming itself. He didn't know the actual meaning, he just thought it was a phrase. Arthur waited until Ariadne passed him before stepping in and requesting kisses of his own. When he got back to their bedroom, Ariadne was zipping up her jeans. Already, she donned a new shirt and jacket and soon slung her duffel over her shoulder. "I was going to leave in the morning after I dropped Easton off at school but it'll be hell with Alli at my parents'. I'll just leave tonight."

The Point drug his feet on the carpet while following her to the front door. He couldn't help but chide after the scene they both witnessed where they were all over her, "Because them both waking up without you is so much better?"

"The more time you and I can have away from each other, the better." Ariadne said with melancholy and shrug. "And when I get back, I think we need to sit down and have a serious talk about our marriage—"

"Yes," concurred the man before he understood.

"—And consider our options because obviously it's not working."

How many times could oblivion be blown into more oblivion? "You mean consider divorce?"

"We'll talk when I come back." She didn't seem happy about it either. But then why were they doing this: fighting and not trying. Not communicating. Or getting counseling. Not battling to make it work. Did they subconsciously feel it was a lost cause? "If you come back." He held the door open as she glided through it, "Eames is going to sweep you back into that world and you won't give a second thought to us." Ariadne spared him a long look that said she was sorry and then—

"Mommy?"

Ariadne's concerned eyes shot to the edge of the hallway and scolded, "Alli. I just put you back in bed."

"Mommy, where you going!?" Already, the toddler was in a panic at even the thought of mommy leaving for a second. She ran (nearly tripped. Arthur had his hands held out cautiously in case she fell) and hugged Ariadne's leg which prompted her to crouch down and coax, "Just to work for a while."

Alli demanded with a readjusted (and tighter) squeeze on the Architect's neck, "I come wiff you."

"No, baby," Ariadne's soft voice tried to pull her daughter off but ended up standing with Allivia piggybacking her front and whimpering. She had to stick to her guns, "you have to go sleep so you can get up and see mimi and papa in the morning."

"NO!" The little girl rasped. And Arthur looked to the hallway, afraid it would wake the other child. "I wanna come wiff you!" She begged and if was up to daddy, he'd pack her a little bag and take her along as well.

"Allivia, no baby, I'm sorry." The Architect rubbed circles on her back and she sobbed, "Mommy! Don't leave!"

"Shhh," Ariadne hushed her than gestured and ordered, "Arthur, take her."

Allivia had Arthur in the palm of her tiny baby hands. Even as he obliged and went to take her from her mother, it killed him to think of this sadness for another three months. He resorted close to Alli's tactics and pleaded, "Ariadne, just stay the night. She's gonna have a cow."

"She's gonna have one sooner or later anyway." The young mother grimaced but helped pry her child off (regretfully). She promised both of them—her husband and daughter—"I'll call you in the morning, ok?"

Allivia's arms outreached towards the Architect, "Noooooo! Mommy!" And when she realized mommy was moving she threw her head back and went upside down in Arthur's arms—starting a full on tantrum and causing her mother to halt in horror. Good thing Arthur was super strong and had sharp reflexes. He pulled her up and held her upright. Alli's face turned red and twisted into the most pitiful, heart wrenching face. She wept with hands stretching for Ariadne, "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

Arthur's face twisted up too, moisture building, "You're breaking all of our hearts, Ariadne, just stay." He implored with a gruff desperation all his own, "Please. I'll make it worth your while."

"Mama?" The parents' eyes darted to the hallway again. Where a tired and alarmed Easton stood. Ariadne couldn't take another heart-hurting goodbye so she took hold of the strap of her duffle and stepped out the door. As it was hurriedly closing, the little boy began to sprint and called out of it, "Mommy, Where are you going?!" He got to the door several seconds after it closed and banged furiously on it, "Mommy! Mommy, come back!" He reached over his head, turned the knob and swung the door open.

Still hanging on to a writhing, hysterical Allivia, Arthur watched as their son scrambled down the steps of the porch and down the driveway towards where Ariadne was throwing her bag in the car. He reprimanded him, "Easton!"

Hearing his name, his mommy turned around with surprised large eyes and commanded "Easton get back in the house." She struggled to open the driver door without hitting him with it but Easton latched onto her waist. (This was how it was every time Ariadne had a short weekend business trip. Hell, even when she went to the grocery store without them.) "Please, take me with you!"

"Easton Ford Nolan," Ariadne grabbed his chin, "get back in that house."

"But momm—" He cried. The Point Man had made his way down and scooped up the little boy with his other arm right after Ariadne sternly demanded, "Now." He pulled him back up the driveway and the stairs and into the house. "No! Daddy please! I want mommy!" Tears streamed down his face as he was dragged. (Not literally.) Once inside, he put the children down and deadbolted the top (they couldn't reach). "Daddy, no! No! I want mommy!" Wailing and weeping and bawling for Ariadne, the two children stood at the window with hands and red, wet noses pressed against the glass.

Arthur sat on the couch, buried his head in his hands and allowed himself to break down into tears too.

Xxxxxx

Arthur's eyes fluttered open.

While thankful that it was only a dream…the lingering feeling of despair and nausea ate at him. It was here. The night before the day of reckoning. The drills had been drilled, the weapons loaded, the plan reviewed countless times over. Each person involved knew the plan inside out, backwards, and in their sleep. They'd packed up the necessities and flew out of Japan early, early that morning and landed in Canada around eleven. From there they were taking the overnight train to Maine.

It was suspected that the loud rush of the wheels, the sporadic whistles and continuous bumping and rocking of the train would bother the Architect but it quite calmed her. Probably because it matched the different feelings and thoughts and heart palpitations coursing through her and that took her mind off what she was about to do. Ariadne rested flat on her back. The shade on her window was up so the moonlight could shine through when there weren't trees in the way which there mostly were but she entertained herself with the sudden transitions of shadow and light. She'd started trying to lull herself to sleep with James and Pip's lullaby but it turned into a mindless chant, '—the moon, I would dance on a moon beam and then—" Knock. Knock. Knock. She was only given three raps as a warning prior to her door sliding open. Ariadne stuttered and jerked up in her cot. "It's only me." Arthur had the door cracked, his face jammed in the small space, "Could I step in for a sec?" He received a positive 'come on' motion of her hand and let himself in while she swung her legs to the side of the bed and bent over to pull her hair into a ponytail. Ariadne heard him through the combing of her hair, "I figured you might not be able to sleep either." Her hair fanned back over when her head came up and she pulled her hair through the ponytail holder several times. Wisps and tufts of curls and baby hair fell out everywhere but it was just Arthur- who continues to talk, "I brought you some hot chocolate to help." The Point handed her hers first and then took a sip of his, agreeing with the hums of appreciation and delight vibrating through her as she gulped down her own tasty beverage. "Thank you." The girl's face is the definition of pure bliss as she smiles with eyes closed, still savoring the drink. She cupped the mug in both hands kittenishly, her eyes fluttered open and she smirked, "This is hitting the spot." Like it was a reward, she patted the bed next to her and let him sit down.

The Point Man smiled back, "I'm glad." Using her elbow, Ariadne pointed to the item tucked under his free arm, "What's that?" He started, as if he'd completely forgotten it was there and pulled it out to offer to her, "They have a small reading room in the car by the bar and I found Jane Eyre. I know it puts you to sleep…" Right, he was. Ariadne had claimed it as one of her favorite books and every year around thanksgiving she would pull it out and attempt to read it through again. If she was determined and actually finished it, it was around Easter. He teased about it boring her. Essentially, it truly fascinated her, and she was obsessed with the relationship of the main characters and their silent torment but the old English conversations and the descriptions of scenery 'put her at such ease' she was out like a light before making it half a chapter. That's why Arthur snickered and exaggerated, "…since it only takes a page to bore you into unconsciousness." To which she squinted, "Har, har…" but accepted it with a secret excitement (or not so secret) nonetheless.

Her right leg crossed over her left after setting the book on her pillow behind her and she inquired, "What are you going to do tomorrow? After it's over, I mean."

Arthur took another swallow of his hot chocolate and quipped, "That depends on if we're successful."

"If we are?" Her eyes rolled. Because really, did she need to be so specific? Their success was implied.

"Then I'll see to it that you return home to Paris safe and sound and I suppose I'll go back to New York. Sniff out some jobs." Their tones were conversational. Mannerly. Like they were discussing the weather over petit fours with top hats and parasols. The only giveaway that they weren't was the monotonous hum of the train and Arthur picking at the wood panels on the wall. "Oh." He sensed the sound of disappointment in his answer as politically correct as it was.

Maybe for courage, Ariadne took a big gulp of the hot chocolate and then set it down, "Paris—" her legs fold up under her, "Paris isn't home. Not anymore." Poor Paris. It would be hard to break it to the beautiful city.

"Oh?" So she had moved? That was an option Arthur looked into when he first noticed she was off the grid since his departure. She'd talked about loving Holland when she visited it on one of the more recent jobs she ventured, perhaps she'd moved there. "Where is?"

Ariadne didn't answer right away. She knew how she felt and it made sense to her but phrasing it was another thing altogether. She cringed at him first, "It's gonna sound ridiculous." It was easy to tell it didn't add up in his mind by the narrowed eyes and flat-lined lips. There was no getting around it now so she blew air through her cheeks and blurted it. "I think of anywhere you are as home."

Boom. Wow. That was a stun to his system. Far from all the things he expected to come from her mouth. She kept shocking with little electrics bits of truth, "If you think about it, I haven't really had a stable residence since you left. Even before I went with the Hoods our flat didn't feel the same anymore." Arthur had no desire to interrupt her. He set his cup aside and turned more towards her, hanging on each word despite himself. "And the whole time I was stranded underground I wasn't homesick for Paris. I was homesick for you." Ariadne paused and twisted her face in confusion. Asked herself out loud—or maybe she was asking him—or maybe the empty air in the car, "Can you be home sick for a person?" He debated…considered the fact that being with Ariadne again after their separation felt like all the comfortableness, release, and content of collapsing into your own bed after a long trip away…yes. He agreed. You could be homesick for a person. He started to say as much when she interrupted, her hands circling and gesturing to help convey her thoughts. "It's hard to explain but I just keep thinking of that saying 'Home Is Where The Heart Is…'" her hands dropped back down, useless. Ariadne looked at him all melancholy, like it was a tragedy she'd accepted and could do nothing about. "…And I gave you mine a while ago, so..."

I never loved you. I hate you!

Arthur genuinely didn't know what to say. His face was blank because he was going through all the possibilities in his mind of where this conversation could possibly go. Ariadne shrugged. Dismissive. "I guess what all that means is I miss you…And I understand if after the way we broke it off maybe you haven't missed me-" That was something he didn't have to think about. His reply was instinctual. As if he had some reflex catered to her doubting his feelings, "You know I've missed you," he corrected. It took a deep breath to get there but he reached the point where he didn't mind the circumstance, Arthur needed to admit. It spilled out easily and painlessly enough, "I still love you, Ariadne. So much…" It's bordering on a bluster. Honestly, how was that not clear? Every move since she called him from the payphone was evidence of that. It frustrated him that she could be so blind (never mind the fact she wasn't in her right mind for a while but still). What made it worse was the alleviation on her face-like she'd suspected otherwise. "If you don't know how infinitely by this point-"

Ariadne shook her head like it would shut him up. She swallowed, "I do. I'm sorry I've been weird…If I haven't been clinging to you like a scared little kid, I've been screaming at you like a harpie. I've treated you awful…and I've been so, so, distant." Little by little, she tensed less and less.

"You should've been. It makes complete sense after what you've been through."

Ariadne's head tilted, "I still love you too…"His heart jumped to his throat. That's all he's wanted to know, to hear, for months now. To be certain she didn't despise his very existence after what he'd thrown her into, after his horrible nightmare, "Yeah?"

"Yeah…" he heard the steady rise and fall of her breath and how it matched in time with the rhythm of his. Arthur tracked the movement of her eyes down past his nose and to his lips, caught them when they flickered back tentatively and then mimicked them while they fluttered closed. The kiss was quick, chaste, very much like their first.

Out of the two, Ariadne opened her eyes first. Immediately after, she pulled away because she wanted to gauge his reaction. The Point's eyes were still closed, his eyebrows beginning to crease. The Architect took the opportunity to cup the side of his face and press her mouth to Arthur's a second time. Even sweeter, lighter, like a wisp of feathers. He had yet to respond to her ministrations. So she placed another peck that barely brushed against him. The last one was the winner. Ariadne felt his hand clench the fabric of her shirt and his head surged to meet their lips again: Firm, arduous…he deepened it once, twice, three times and then broke it off. Once more, her eyes opened first. Arthur's face was contorted similar to the way it would if she'd punched him in the stomach. He sighed, exhausted sounding, "God, Ari…it's like nothing's changed. You still own me."

The Architect was smirking once his eyes opened but timidly. "Would you come back to me if I asked you, then?"

"I never really wanted to leave," simultaneously his fists free the fabric of her shirt (leaving it wrinkled). "I want to pick up where we left off…"

All you did was breathe down my neck…

He cursed the smile the crept on her face because he was fixing to smash it, "And if our dynamic had changed in the slightest…I think we could've but—"

Right away, she scowled, "Don't ruin this with the 'buts' already…I still love you. You still love me. There's a simple straightforward solution to that. Why do you have to complicate it?" The man went to reply "Be—" but the woman squeezed in, "Over technicalities, at that."

"Because I love you. Because I'm no good for you…" Eyes rolled and made him raise his voice like he had to talk over the action, "Because I'm selfish; I want to protect you to prevent my own grief. I'm too controlling. I've tried to fix that and I can't. I don't deserve you." Arthur received astringency with her retort but it was more aimed at herself. She still had buried issues of self-loathing at times, "If you knew the things I've done, you'd know I'm not exactly a privilege."

There was no arguing with her about her self image because every time he tried, she got more distraught. However, there was another point he could make for his case. "You think I'd ever want to let you out of the house—out of my sight again? Especially after all this. The overprotectiveness hasn't gotten better and it will only get worse." In reality though, it had improved. With them apart, he didn't feel like he had the right to dictate or suggest or ask her to answer to him for certain things. He forced himself to let it go and let her be. Which was good… and he should keep it that way for her sake.

I've bent heaven and earth to grant your every wish!
My wish was to be an Architect!

"You want to be an infamous dream architect and you can be that. You can be that and more, Ariadne. I'll be damned if I'm the one that stands in your way."

"I don't want that anymore." She stood from the bed, turned to tower over him, fingers dug into the creases of her eyes like they would if she were rubbing sleep out of them. (Except more aggravated and rough.) They splayed out into jazz hands in the air in front of her (minus the twinkling and the cheer) "I don't want to be apart. I don't want to feel a distance between us."

I only married you because I was still vulnerable and scared. And I thought I needed protection.

Arthur sighed and folded his hands into his lap. Promptly. Full of aplomb. He regarded her as her psychiatrist would. Like she didn't understand the deeper meaning of the things she was saying. "Only because our breakup was closely followed by a traumatic experience. You think you need me as a bodyguard." She refuted with shakes of her head and lasers from her eyes, "You've placed this idea of security on me that you didn't have before. You don't still love me; you think you need me." He was thrown a scoff. "You think I can make things better, that I can prevent things—"

You're breaking all of our hearts, Ariadne, just stay. Please.

"—and I can't."

"Stop putting words in my mouth," Commanded the Architect, using an index finger to emphasize. "Stop telling me what I'm feeling. Stop thinking you know what I want and listen to what I'm telling you." Telling her she was mistaking her feelings? Insisting she doesn't love him? Now he'd done it…he could be such an infuriating hypocrite sometimes. How come Ariadne's affections towards him weren't credited? What, they weren't as evident as his? How come he could get offended when she wasn't sure of his attachment to her and she couldn't when the shoe was on the other foot? It was no wonder she was unsure of his love for her…clearly, his actions contradicted his words. Obviously, his reciprocation or lack thereof was confusing at best. Ariadne began to pace, "I don't think I need you because of everything that's happened. All I've been through just made me realize that I've needed you all along." Frowning and still marching to and fro, she leveled a look at him, "This hasn't made me afraid of being away from you. This has forced me to see that I never wanted to be. Hell, I already knew that." The slap of her hands against the tops of her legs punctuated the toss of her arms and their limp descent. "You already knew that. I mean I practically begged you to stay." It came out like it disgusted her.

One bladed hand calmly raised and paused in level with his sternum, "Look," it dropped while her stance shifted. "I know our relationship has been the most serious you've had—" in the middle of his sentence he tapered off. Partly because he felt asinine when her mouth gawked open in faux amazement. Ariadne eyes twinkled with incredulity; the Architect almost seemed amused he had the audacity to try and use that as a valid advantage in their dispute. He forged ahead, grabbed her hand forcefully, "but it won't be the only one. You're the strongest woman I've met. You survived and came back from things I can't even imagine. You can make it through a meaningless break up." Arthur had nearly allayed her until the last unwise comment. Her hand wrenched itself from his, she avoided his gaze in favor of the door to her cabin.

If you come back. Eames will sweep you into that world again and you won't give a second thought to us.

"You'll find someone else."

Ariadne's head snapped back to him and Arthur found himself shoved back against the mattress. Ariadne's hands pressed him into the cot, her body hovered over his. He had to stare into her unwavering, resolute face in silence for several seconds before, "I don't want someone else."

I don't regret them.
What does that mean? You regret me? You regret being my wife?!
More than anything.

"No," The Architect faltered because she assumed he'd given in and agreed. That gave him the chance to gently take hold of her wrists and push them both up. "You don't think so now. But you'll find someone. And he'll be a perfect fit for you." She was unaware that was coming. And it stupefied her. It actually reached its claws down her throat and made her speechless. "He won't bat an eye when you come home with bullet holes. He won't argue with you about how many times you go under." Arthur had sat all the way up at the edge of the bed and her knees had slid from the edge of the cot to stand in front of him. The only thing that grounded her to reality, to that moment and those words and made her positive they were happening was his steady, yet soft grips on her wrists, "And maybe after nine years slaving in the business, an inception and an unforgettable kiss in a dream hotel," The Point slowly stood himself, compressing her wrists to his chest without realizing it. "It'll be your turn to meet that one person worth giving it all up for."

I miss it too…but you and Easton and Alli are worth it. You three are more than enough for me.

"I'm not worth it," rasped the Point Man. One of the Architect's hands fanned open and splayed across his chest right where his heart was. It was here that he noticed what he was doing. And how he held her hands against him like his life depended on it. "Stop," requested Ariadne. Whereas she'd directed it at his monologue he presumed she meant his grasp, so the Point Man surrendered her wrists and continued his speech. "He'll saunter in, hurl out a surly comment about creation, point out your extractor's bullshit and hook you right away. Line and sinker." There was moisture filling up his eyes that shouldn't be there. Everything was wrong about this oration…because he wasn't imagining some future, he was describing their first day together. Used it as a kind of twisted template. This time she pleaded, "Please stop." At that point Arthur sounded nothing other than defeated, "You'll want to marry him—"

You regret being my wife?!
More than anything.

"I said I would marry you."

I only married you because I was still vulnerable and scared.

"Have his children."

Do you really hate Daddy?
Well I—I love you two very much. And without your father, I wouldn't have you.

"I almost had yours."

"You'll live and breathe and," he swallowed, her first tear rolled, "probably die for him."

I never loved you. I hate you!

"Arthur…" It was whispered as her hands weaved through his hair to the back of his head. The sound of him clearing his throat is all that resounded while she tugged on him to get closer, to lean the crook of his nose by the crook of hers, to satisfy whatever ache he'd just instilled in her core. Arthur's palms located the ends of her shirt again, bunched them up—it was all the Point would permit himself to return. "And should he ever treat you less than you deserve, I'll be there to kill him for it."

But it's not enough for me! I want adventure!

With hesitance, he distanced Ariadne from him. "All I've ever wanted was your happiness. You'll get over me and when you do, trust me, you'll be so happy."

Numb. No blood courses through her veins at the moment; it's Novocain. She limply plopped to sit on her cot. He shadowed. Next, she quipped-back to her sarcasm, "Or maybe I'll just die in that hell hole tomorrow and not have to try."

He ordered, "Don't say that. We've all lost you too many times already," It couldn't be helped. Arthur yearned to kiss her temple so he leaned over to do exactly that. It was no surprise when her head turned and her body leaned away. The man's face dropped down so that his forehead leant against her shoulder. And it was no coincidence: the tense of her body, the hiccups of breaths. Her arm went up to wipe furiously at her face and plunked back down. Ariadne was crying. "Please don't be upset with me…," Arthur lifted his head off her.

"I don't know what you expect me to be right now."

You're fighting again. We don't like it when you fight.

"You don't need a relationship at this point in your life. You need to focus on you. And I need to do what's best…if giving this—us—up is what's best than I'm sorry, baby, I have to do it. I'd rather part from you while you still love me. Not wait until those feelings turn to hatred." Ariadne ignored him. She got up, walked around to the side of her bed and pulled back the covers to get in.

You tricked me into giving up everything I ever wanted—everything I ever worked for—to suffer five years of a miserable marriage.

"I'm not going to let us struggle through a damaging relationship…because we're stubborn; we'd do it 'til it killed us. I have to take control of this situation." The Architect finally met his eyes again, poignant. That last phrase was another bullet to the heart…he instantly regretted saying it however honest it was. Ariadne climbed into the cot, pulled the sheets over and turned on the side that put her back to him, "I need to sleep. Goodnight."

Arthur fidgeted but ultimately (and dejectedly…hope he was proud of himself and his accomplishment…) trudged to her door and mumbled, "Goodnight." The Point slid it open and was halfway out when her voice sailed back into his ears. "There's a difference, Arthur." He turned at the first syllable. "You're not giving us up…You're giving up on us."

It struck a chord. A chord that reverberated and tingled his tendons long after he closed her door behind him and settled into his own cot.
xxxxxx

Ariadne stepped out the next morning blowing a deep inhale out of her cheeks. She was in comfy leggings and a mint sweatshirt but that would change when they arrived at their destination. The opportunity to sleep in until lunch was there but after a restless night, forcing herself to stay and wallow around in the bed scrounging for scraps of rest would stress her more than prepare her. Lazily, she French braided her back to get it out of her face (she missed enough strands it looked like she'd slept with it that way), chucked on her current garb and got out of the stifling cabin. Barely three seconds after she slid the door shut, Yusuf emerged across the small passageway. His wardrobe lacked the same amount of effort: some painter's pants and a v neck with a blazer. They exchanged warm, encouraging smiles and Yusuf suggested, "Breakfast?" They fell into step but Yusuf strolled in front because the halls didn't allow enough width for two people to walk side by side. Not soon enough, the tiny space opened up into the restaurant car and allowed them to breathe. They found a table close to the entrance of the next car over (which was more seating for the patrons) beside a window. Immediately upon sitting, an attendant handed them two menus and asked for beverages. "Uh, water," for the Architect and "Orange juice, please," for the Chemist. Ariadne's chin was rested in her hand while she looked over the menu. If she was honest, she wasn't too hungry. The water would do. But the smarter side of her said she'd need sustenance to be at the top of her game for the operation. Who knew if she would have the chance to eat a lunch or a dinner or another breakfast…so she tapped her fingers against her cheek and forced herself to look for something appetizing. Drinks appeared out of thin air, "Decided?"

Yusuf was still perusing when she glanced up at him so she ordered first, the fingernail of her index finger between her teeth, "Hash browns…a fruit cup, I guess…" Ariadne scanned for anything else that didn't sound repulsive so early in the morning, "And could I have—like—just a quarter of an order of sausage?"

The waiter's skepticism was easily readable, "That's only one link, Miss."

She tried to politely insist, "That's all I really need…" The Chemist had decided what he wanted by then and exaggerated the drop of his menu and the look of disbelief at her order but the server complied and scribbled into his pad.

Yusuf whistled beforehand, "Ok. Two eggs sunny side up, order of hash browns, Texas toast and a side of bacon." He aimed a look at Ariadne, "Full order." The waitron made the note, collected the cards used for menus and promised to refill the Architect's water as she teased her companion, "Geeze Yusuf…did they feed you in Japan?"

He laughed with her and purposelessly arranged and rearranged the small packages of butter and jellies. Once the moment was gone, the man detected her insecure tucking of hair behind her ears and nervous scan of the room. "You ready for this?"

The girl pulled a face at him, "Sort of…I'm coping by pretending it's not really happening. It seems to work. That's how I got two hours of sleep last night." She smirked because she wasn't ecstatic with his sympathetic gaze and wanted to act in a way that would change it. Briefly, Ariadne leant over and opened the shade of the window. What they saw were trees and trees and trees whizzing past. Woods have trees…and Ariadne and the Woods had a complicated relationship…so it was shut quickly.
xxxxxx

Several tables back, the Point Man took a drag of black liquid from his mug and watched her intently (while she slid the shade down) over Saito's shoulder as the businessman ran through a check list off his phone, "Communication."

Arthur snapped back to the task and pulled his own phone and it's stylus out. Saito patiently waited for the Point to finish the clicking and scrolling. "We went with the walkie earpieces by Nokia. That way we wouldn't have to rely on wifi or cell service; all we need is the same frequency. One of your men is supposed to distribute them this morning. They're all already set to the same channel."

Saito nodded and questioned without looking up from his handheld, "Communication with me."

Arthur answered back like with the efficiency and quickness of a search engine, "Misha is your man for that. He'll be out of the field to monitor the Hoods' tech activity. The different squads will report to him when they can and keep you updated."

The Asian make a check motion on his screen, "Excellent. Intervention of the authorities?" The younger of the two men prepared to explain that the authorities would not be contacted until the operation came to a close and all Hoods had either surrendered, died or been captured in their possession. As he went into it, he felt a clap on his back.
xxxxxx

Cobb turned back over his shoulder to give his best friend a heartening nod and grin which Arthur returned. The Extractor surmised that if he were biting his nails (figuratively speaking) and getting edgier with each mile traversed, then Arthur was on the cusp of a coronary. And what Ariadne was feeling? He was slightly afraid to fathom. A familiar face sat alone on the right side of the car, so he squeezed in next to him. The waiter was there bringing the Englishman another drink and reaching for his plate, "Oh no," he lifted a hand, "I'm still working on it."

When asked Cobb spouted, "Coffee, two creams, one sugar. Thank you." Then, "Already, Eames? It's—" he checked his watch—"barely eight."

Eames winked, "Never know which drink will be your last," and lifted his glass in salute. The other chap scoffed, "You do if you intentionally drink your weight's worth before the day's even started."

"I needed something to tranquilize the old nerves," The Forger squinted at the half-raised screen over the window and drove it all the way up: Trees and trees and trees…

"Ugh." Was the only noise needed to convey how much Cobb concurred. The coffee was brought out and he bantered while pouring in the extras and stirring, "You'd think we'd be used this kind of shit by now. Guns, rogues…"

Here, the Englishman broke away from the (truly mundane) view and pursed his lips, "Actually, we're used to ducking, running and hiding not riding into battle."

"True," dismissed Dom. He let his eyes roam the car and only then noticed the Chemist and the Architect sitting almost directly across the car, some tables and customers scattered between them. Like sensing he was on display, Yusuf looked over and met Cobb's glance so Cobb greeted, "Morning."
xxxxxx

"Morning." Ariadne heard Yusuf chirp. Deserting her in-depth read of the ingredients in honey butter, she looked up with a knit in her brow for who he was addressing. Unless Yusuf was losing his mind (or she hers but Ariadne reckoned that'd already happened), he wasn't talking to her. In pleasant surprise, she saw Dom and Eames mirroring them. She put on a soft smile and waved. The shorter one waved back. And she believed the Forger was in the process of one too when he flipped his hand around and motioned for her to come over.

Ariadne excused herself past a few full tables in between them. Eames' arms were outstretched to her as she came up and she took the invitation to not only hug him but sit in his lap like a kid would sit on their uncle's. "And how are we this a.m.?" his intonation smoothed.

"Eh…" the girl scrunched one side of her face, looked at the man across the table from them and shook her hand. Out from around her shoulder, the arm attached to the Brit pointed at his mostly (and messily) devoured breakfast, "Nothing a cinnamon raison crepe doused in powdered sugar can't fix." Cobb's laughter trickled; she expected her aghast grimace at the state of Eames' plate set and mangled pastry was the cause. Oblivious, Eames continued, "Go on and have a bite. I personally loved it." Her and Cobb engaged in feigned looks of horror before Cobb ribbed, "We can tell." Still, the recommendation was prolonged, "It'll have you bouncing off the walls…"

She pushed the plate further towards Cobb with two fingers and rejected, "That's ok, I have food coming." Then, Ariadne noticed the glass in his hand, "Scotch?" She twisted over her shoulder and gave him a maternal-ish scold, "It's like eight in the morning—"

"That's what I told him…" harmonized Dom just before his phone buzzed.

"It's apple juice, thank you."

The Architect leant in and sniffed his breath, "It is not." But she was more amused than troubled by it, "How many have you had?" Her gaze followed his to the man across from them. She noted the delight on their mutual friend's face as he looked down at his phone screen, however she wanted an answer so she returned to Eames with askance.

"It is my third and my last. You lot can stop badgering me about it, I'm not fixing to perform surgery." The forger was ever humorous; his grin eating through the fake glare.

Ariadne laughed and shrugged, flippant, "Nah..." if there was one thing they loved doing together it was outwitting the other with sarcasm, "Just handling some guns…dangerous machinery…that's all." She smirked. One eyebrow perfectly arched.

"Who needs to live?" His hand swatted through the air, insouciantly. Just then, Cobb piped up, "Miles and the kids say good luck." Both the Parisian and the Englishman paused to listen to him. He holds the screen for them to see, "Even sent us a picture." Miles wasn't in the frame (probably the one who took the photo) but James' bright, smiling face beamed in the front half of the photo and Pippa blew a kiss in the space that was left. Ariadne cooed. Then, "You should be with them. I feel bad for taking you away all these months…"

"I visited them when I could. With the Hoods watching the skies for anything to locate us or them…It was better I stay in one place." The phone was taken from his hands and put on picture mode. She decided she wanted to send one back for them so Eames was nudged and he puckered his lips while Ariadne flashed her teeth. When Cobb took the device back, he added, "Besides, I wouldn't have been reunited with my kids if not for you. It's my turn to follow you into whatever mess you lead me."
xxxxxx

"Ariadne." He couldn't help but look up when her name was called across the car. He'd been watching her off and on through his discussion with Saito. The Point knew she wasn't sitting on Eames' lap and taking pictures and ignoring him on purpose.

"Good work, Arthur. If you'll excuse me, I have a conference call with one of my CEO's." Nodding once, the Point took another sip of coffee. Just ahead of him The Chemist was signaling with his hand and pointing at the servers' distribution of plates, "Food." Arthur slid his focus across to judge her reaction. The Architect hopped off of Eames' lap, bid them so long for now and hurried back to her table. On the way she bumped into Saito, "Sir."

"Ariadne."

They shook hands, she insisted he pass first and—felt the Point's stare. He wasn't expecting the sincerity in the upturn of her lips and the cordial lift of her hand. After the debacle they had the night before he expected a minor grudge, some hardheaded antipathy or at least some frustration. He supposed too much else was on her mind for her to remember…then again, Ariadne wasn't anything if not resilient. He used the seconds she allotted to wait for his response to ponder all this. Then kicked himself in the butt when she awkwardly turned to sit.
xxxxxxxx

Four more chapter guys. Yay, its almost over, bet youre glad.
NEXT CHAPTER: ACTUAL INFILTRATION.

Also. Pictures of Arthur and Ariadne's children: Easton and Allivia are on my bio. If you care. They actually look soooo much like them. Especially Alli.