Disclaimer: None of this is mine, it belongs to Warner Bros and other creative outlets and people, I don't intend to profit from this in any way. I am just trying to curb my own writer's block.
reviewers are a lovely cut above the rest- Lauraa-x: yes, he really isn't a fan of breaking promises. oh man more tears are coming, I expect… yes, New Arthur isn't completely heartless! yay I'm glad the psychology made sense, thanks! Lazarus76: thank you! I try. music. is. my. heroine: I'm glad you worked out that I tried to reply last chapter. (where? if you don't mind me asking… I lived in New York for a bit.) which episode of House, and how so? and BROMANCE 4EVAH! In. Blue. 85: you're studying Psychology, right? if so, I'm thrilled this worked out, I only took one Psychology class in high school…and well predicted with the DVD! cinema therapy: hey, what's up? navigation ahead! and hmm might get somewhere on that second part… mbarca: welcome aboard! reading your reviews made me feel so happy! very grateful.
I've been looking forward to writing the end of this chapter for a very long time… (BUT DON'T JUMP AHEAD, READ THE WHOLE THING PLEASE)
There are a lot of line breaks to help clarify what is happening. bear with me, please.
chapter title from the song by Imagine Dragons, perfect for this.
Demons
Sunday, July 14, 2013: New York City, New York: Ariadne's Apartment: Arthur/Ariadne/Micah
He sat in still silence, staring at nothing. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the persistent sunlight that had plagued Arthur's mornings for months, instantly waking him, the light sleeper he was. Normally, he welcomed the feel of the sun on his skin, a rigid shot of Vitamin D to stable his mind. Today, however, it only brought trepidation.
Arthur was sitting on his neatly made bed. The room that he'd barely called his own was clean and empty, the meager belongings he'd managed to accumulate during his short time there were already packed in the suitcase and duffel bag that rested at his feet. He'd only had to ship one package of clothes to Australia, and would bring the rest of his things to the airport with him, tomorrow.
If he survived today, that is.
He didn't feel scared, per se. He felt numb and anxious, two feelings that had been the only really consistent things in his life. The difference was that now, accompanying those feelings, was a subdued kind of… hope.
Arthur was not one to let hope cloud his judgment, nor any emotion really. But try as he might, he couldn't force the feeling to go away. Not since he'd stared at himself in a backwards mirror, and seen a deep love and commitment that he'd never imagined he would be able to feel.
He'd told himself that he believed the others, and Ariadne, when they told him that he loved her. But the sudden epiphany of yesterday had pushed it all aside. There was only one person who could convince him of what he'd perceived to be the impossible: himself.
Of course, he couldn't always trust himself.
Arthur ran a hand over his face, feeling the bristly stubble that marred his usually shaven face. He couldn't say for sure why he was abandoning the style and appearance he'd worn for years. He told himself it was just a desire to try out something new. But deep down, he knew that wasn't just it.
It was just another example of his decision to disappear.
Arthur didn't believe he would ever be able to stop running. He was convinced there would always be a reason to keep leaving, to always look over his shoulder. There would never be a chance to settle down, to have a life that involved a ring on his left hand, a house with a picket fence, maybe even a child with innocent brown eyes. On some level, he'd known this his whole life, even as a child himself.
He'd never had a future.
He was always going to be the wanted man, the fugitive and murderer with a hundred creditors on his tail, waiting to drag him to hell. Though, he mused, he couldn't imagine a place more hellish than this one.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his morbid thoughts.
Bethany carefully pushed the door open, sticking her head through the gap and offered Arthur a warm smile.
"Hey."
"Hi," Arthur murmured. She crossed the room and sank down onto the bed next to him.
She nodded towards his bags. "Packed and ready, I see."
"Yeah. My flight is leaving tonight, you know…"
Bethany nodded sadly. "I'm sorry I can't take you to the airport."
"Don't be," Arthur said hurriedly. "You're teaching lower-income children how to dance. I think that gives you a free pass."
She smiled. "Thanks. It's weird to think I won't see you for a couple weeks."
"Mm-hmm."
As previously determined, Bethany was flying to Australia on July 30th, only a couple days after her teaching job ended. Arthur and Bethany had already hashed out the details of when and where, and Arthur knew her flight information and which gate to pick her up at Sydney Airport.
"And you'll take me all over Australia, right?" She chuckled.
"Definitely. We can go snorkeling along the Great Barrier Reef, backpack through the Outback, tour the Whitsunday Islands, and of course, visit the Sydney Opera House."
Bethany beamed. "That sounds wonderful."
"I think so."
"So what are you and Micah doing before going to the airport?"
Bethany had a recital for some of her students tonight in Brooklyn, giving Arthur the perfect excuse to not see her before his flight, which wasn't scheduled to depart JFK International Airport until tomorrow morning. But with Bethany believed Arthur was leaving that night, it allowed him and the others to begin the…treatment.
They didn't have another word for it, so Arthur had coined Ariadne's process of going through his memories as a "treatment." Something to rejoin the parts of his brain and self…
"Are you okay?"
Bethany's concerned voice snapped him out of it. Arthur straightened, offering her a tense smile.
"Fine. Tired, that's all."
"I should think so, you never sleep."
There was a knock on the door. Bethany and Arthur turned as Micah peered in at them.
"Hey. All set?"
"One moment, please," Arthur murmured. Micah nodded and shut the door.
Arthur turned to Bethany. "I wanted to say… thank you."
"Thank you?" Bethany repeated. "For what?"
"For just… being you," Arthur said. "For sticking with me, even though I've been, well… excessively moody, to put it lightly. For visiting me in the hospital, for making me feel wanted, for supporting me so warmly. I'm not used to that kind of dedication, and yours is… overwhelming, and so valued. Thank you, Bethany."
She blushed. "Wow. You're welcome, Arthur. But you should know… you're very worth it. You should always feel welcomed and comforted. You're a good person."
Arthur smiled. "That means a lot to me."
Bethany grinned, and leaned forward, kissing him gently. Arthur returned her kiss, which was completely sweet and heartfelt, and he felt himself getting wrapped up in her presence again; she was just so lovely, and kind to him, and-
A sudden piercing headache made him pull away, gasping.
"Thank you for not leaving me."
"Leaving you? Did you think I would even consider it?"
"All right, there?" Bethany asked, smirking a little.
He nodded, his face slightly flushed, his voice and Ariadne's ringing in his ears. "Yeah, just fine."
At that moment, Micah opened the door once more. He gave a brief smile before adding, "We should go, I know you want to have dinner before we get to the airport."
"Yes please," Arthur said, rising to his feet. He picked up his bags and left the room without a second glance, Bethany and Micah shadowing him.
Arthur paused by the kitchen counter, fishing in his pocket. He was aware of their eyes on him as he procured his key, setting it down on the counter with a dull clunk.
"It'll be weird," Micah commented, "living without you here."
"Guess you'll have to find a new roommate," Arthur said.
Micah shrugged. "That wasn't what I meant."
Arthur looked at him. "I know."
His relationship with Micah had been…shaky, to say the least, since that visit to Washington. Though Arthur wouldn't take back the things he'd furiously said to Micah, nor the punch that had accompanied them, he felt a little bad about the whole fiasco. Arthur understood that Micah was just trying to help; in a way, Micah reminded him of his old military buddy, Jonah, who'd been a wise-cracking, fun-loving boy until that day in Afghanistan.
Jonah…
"A girl and a boy. Vanessa is five, and Arthur is three."
"Arthur?"
He hadn't realized that he'd closed his eyes. Arthur opened them quickly, realizing that Micah was watching him.
"Are you okay?" Micah asked softly.
"He's been doing that a lot today," Bethany said, concern in her tone.
Arthur gave one jerky nod. "Yes."
One glance into Micah's eyes told him that Micah was aware that he'd just been witness to another repressed memory. Micah opened his mouth to comment, but at Arthur's swift look towards Bethany, he recovered quickly. "Sure you have everything?"
Arthur gave him a look, and Micah smirked. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're the point man, you've got everything planned to a T."
"Damn straight," Arthur murmured. Micah's smirk grew more pronounced as they all exited the apartment.
On the sidewalk, Arthur turned to face Bethany.
"I guess this is goodbye," Bethany said.
"Until August," Arthur added. She smiled and this time, it was he who leaned forward and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her. She hugged him tightly, but relinquished him when Micah awkwardly cleared his throat.
"What?" He asked, at Arthur and Bethany's irritated expressions. He stepped to the curb, raising his arm to hail a taxi.
Arthur turned back to Bethany. "I'll call you when I can, yeah?"
"Sounds good," she murmured. "Be safe."
"You too."
Micah had already accessed a taxi, and so with little else to do, Arthur put his bags in the open trunk and climbed in. He waved at Bethany, earning a sad smile in return, and he watched her until the taxi turned the corner and he could no longer see her.
The car ride to Ariadne's was quiet. While Micah fidgeted, Arthur remained still, staring out the window at the streets of Manhattan. It was still hot as Hades, but he'd become more acclimated to the climate. Arthur instead admired the city he'd occasionally lived in over the past decade, taking in the dominating skyscrapers, eclectic people and bustling roads. He'd loved New York for providing the perfect place for him: with its large and diverse population, the city was a haven for all sorts of runaways, including supposed dead men who didn't want to be found.
Of course, he'd never had to live in the city sewers. That would undoubtedly tarnish his opinion of the city as a sanctuary.
"What are you thinking about so intently?"
Arthur glanced around, catching Micah's questioning eye.
"Well," he said. "Considering this could very well be my last afternoon… I thought I'd take in some of the scenery."
Micah flinched. Arthur stared.
"You sound…" Micah hesitated. "Like you did when you thought you were going to die… And we went to the beach and we surfed and you told me you were okay with dying… so nonchalant about everything…"
"Let's just say I'm fairly used to the feeling that I am about to die," Arthur commented.
Micah nodded. "Yes, I know. But it's not something I'll ever get used to."
"Are you going to give me a speech about your affection towards me?" Arthur wondered. He sounded rather condescending, but he hadn't intended to.
Surprisingly, Micah only smiled. "No, I won't," he murmured. "You've heard it all before. And I know you'll remember it; maybe not right now, but soon."
Before Arthur could comment, the taxi stopped, as they'd just arrived at Ariadne's apartment. The two men climbed out, and this time, Micah helped Arthur cart his bags inside and up the stairs.
Micah had barely finished knocking when the door flew open. Cobb smiled grimly at them.
"Come in," he murmured. When Arthur made to follow Micah in, Cobb stopped him, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Are you ready?" Cobb asked, blue eyes very serious.
"As I'll ever be," Arthur murmured. "And don't worry. That's my job."
Cobb couldn't help but grin. "I know. I look forward to you taking up that task again."
Arthur opened his mouth to disagree-no matter what happened today, he wasn't going to dream again-but found he couldn't in the face of Cobb's amused glimmer. He swallowed his displeasure and managed to nod.
Ariadne's living room was a mess. Chairs from the dining table were lined up in a semi circle around the couch, and the most high-tech PASIV Arthur had ever seen rested on the table in front of them. He walked to it, staring down at the machine. The lines were thicker than normal, and it looked like twice the dose of somnacin was hooked up. His eyes raked over the features, studying the panel of the computer that'd put them out, the numbers that flashed and shimmered.
"Cool, huh?"
Arthur spun around, shocked at the voice. Sure enough, Adam was standing next to him.
"Adam?" He asked.
Adam smiled. "Surprise."
"What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't miss the chance to go into your mind," Adam said cheerfully. "Now I'll know for sure whether or not it was you who broke that automated airplane I had in 1989."
Arthur snorted. "Spoiler alert: I did."
"Yeah, I guessed as much." Adam stepped forward and hugged Arthur tightly, an embrace so warm that Arthur understood why Adam was really there.
"You're terrible at goodbyes," Arthur said softly.
Adam gripped his shoulders even more tightly. "You suck at not giving them."
"Touché." Arthur pulled back, squeezed Adam's arm. "I'm sorry about all this. You deserve a better brother."
"No," Adam said. "I deserve a brother who doesn't keep dying. There's a difference."
Arthur laughed. The brothers smiled at each other, until Cobb's voice interrupted them.
"Looks like we're set," he said.
Eames, who Arthur saw was hovering near the window, nodded. "Let's get this show on the road."
"How does this work, exactly?" Arthur asked as they all settled down. Ariadne sank down next to him on the couch, while the others took the chairs around them.
"I can't tell you that," she said.
Arthur sighed. "Yeah, I know. Anything you can tell me?"
"Not really," she said thoughtfully. "We won't speak more than necessary; you have to experience these memories on your own. Anything more might encourage your unconscious to set up stronger barriers for us-"
"And it's already going to be difficult as hell," Eames added. "Considering it's your mind."
"What does that mean?" Adam demanded.
"Arthur is adept at dream share," Eames explained. "His mind is fortified, quite expertly, at dispelling intruders. The moment he realizes we're there… Well, it's open season."
Arthur grimaced. "Sorry."
"Eh, don't be. At least this time we won't be going to limbo. Only…" Eames trailed off, glancing at Ariadne.
She sighed, turning to Arthur. "The others are only coming as… my bodyguards, I guess. They'll only be on the surface with us. You and I will have to go much deeper, if this is going to work. That's when it gets dangerous."
Arthur swallowed. "I see."
"Are you still willing to do this?" Cobb asked. All eyes turned to Arthur.
He considered Cobb's question. If he didn't go through with this, allow them to explore his wrecked mind, he would fly to Australia as planned. He would spend some quality time there with Bethany, until she left to return to New York for school. And then…
He'd wait for his mind to cave in and his inevitable death to occur.
And if he did go through with this, he could very well be dead within the hour. Or, worse, trapped in some limbo-space of his own mind, with no clear escape…
Or, Ariadne could be successful, and he might actually end up surviving, to live a life free of espionage and vendettas, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be alone anymore.
Arthur swallowed. "Yes. I understand the risks, but… Yes."
The others nodded tensely. He glanced to the side and met Ariadne's eyes. She gave him a small smile. He turned back to the others, meeting each set of eyes individually. Reflected back at him were emotions of caring, understanding, trepidation… and hope.
Last was Cobb. Arthur gave him a nod, and Cobb pushed down on the plunger.
The first thing he saw was sunlight.
Arthur stared around him in amazement. He was standing on a cliff, tall sea grass waving in the breeze around him. The sun shimmered straight above him in a cloudless sky. He took a deep breath, inhaling ocean air.
A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned. Adam nodded towards their right.
Two young boys, no older than ten, were standing in the grass, about ten feet apart. They were identical in nearly every way, from haircut to height to dimpled smile. The only differences were in their clothes.
"…Amanda? Really?" Young Arthur snorted. He tossed a baseball towards his brother, who caught it in his mitt-clad hand.
"She's pretty!" Young Adam said indignantly. He threw the ball back towards Young Arthur, a bit harder than necessary.
Young Arthur shrugged. "I guess. She wears an awful lot of pink."
"What's wrong with pink!?"
"Nothing. But it's obnoxious."
Arthur and Adam laughed, unable to look away from their younger counterparts. In the distance, Arthur saw Micah smiled fondly.
"Boys!"
Everyone turned around. A white Mustang convertible from the sixties was parked at the edge of the grass, on a gravel road, and a man and woman were sitting on the hood. Arthur's breath caught.
"Mom…" He murmured. "Dad…"
"It's time to go," Eva called. Eli slid off the car and held his hand out to Eva, who took it, joining him on the ground.
Young Adam glared at Young Arthur. "We'll talk about this later. First, I'll beat you back to the car."
Both boys began a fast sprint towards the car, leaping over the tall grass like gazelles, in the way only young children can. Arthur stared wistfully after them…
…And in the next moment, he stood in a grimy apartment. He looked out the window, catching a glimpse of a dark city, all towering skyscrapers, huge advertisements, crowded streets. Shanghai.
A soft gasp made him turn.
A younger version of himself, twenty-one years old, sat tensely on the ragged sofa, wearing only a t-shirt and underwear. In front of him were half a dozen nearly empty bottles of liquor, and an ash tray held a pile of cigarette butts. As he watched, his self stubbed out another cigarette in the tray.
Arthur knew exactly where he was. This was one of his first jobs with Cobb, just months after he'd left the United States, months since he'd died to his family.
His younger self grimaced, hands rubbing on his bare legs. Arthur dimly heard Eames' hiss of disgust at the sight. His legs were covered in scars, many raised red and thick. As he watched, his younger self let out a moan of pain, and a tear slid from his eye.
He reached forward and lifted a syringe off the table, placing it in his mouth as he wrapped his left arm in a tourniquet. Arthur turned away as his younger self stabbed the needle into the crook of his elbow.
He met the shocked faces of the others.
"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered. "I never wanted you to know." He saw a world of questions in their faces-how long were you using, were you addicted-but luckily, the memory faded before they could ask.
"Staff Sergeant."
A prim, crewcut Arthur dressed in army fatigues spun on the spot as a grizzled man in a service dress suit approached him. The man lifted his arm in a salute, which Arthur returned.
"Corporal."
The older man grinned. "Strange hearing that coming from you, boy."
Arthur smiled in response. "It's good to see you, Monty."
The two exchanged a firm handshake. Monty Eliot broke it, revealing a thin manila folder.
"I have your assignment," he said gruffly. "Looks like they're sending you to the desert."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
"Afghanistan."
Present Arthur heard Micah's soft gasp of recognition, heard Adam's clicked tongue. He could only watch as his Past self accepted the folder from Eliot, opening it fluidly.
"Training mission," he commented.
"Bunch of new recruits. Good territory. Shouldn't be any trouble."
"I hope not," Arthur agreed. "I do have school."
Eliot chuckled. "How's that going?"
"Straight A's."
"That's my boy." He glanced at the folder. "You leave in three weeks."
He was screaming, screaming and sobbing. Arthur remained still as his companions gasped and scrambled away from the violence before them.
Past Arthur's head had barely broken the water's surface before he was shoved into it again. He convulsed severely, struggling to fight off the men who kept him under the water. Moments passed in silence.
Then he was above, breathing again.
In Arabic, one of the men yelled at him: "Why were you here?"
Arthur shook his head. Under he went, again.
While his friends looked away, at anything other than Arthur's torture, Arthur himself remained still and straight, staring at the scene. This wasn't just a memory to him; this was a daily event he would never forget.
A sudden piercing pain made the real him scream, louder than his past self.
They weren't the only ones who screamed.
"What's wrong with him!?"
"Is this normal?"
"Where the fuck did he send Eames?"
"Ariadne, maybe-"
"Arthur!"
He dragged his eyes open to a blur of faces. Adam, Cobb, Micah, Ariadne. They wore similar expressions of worry and fear, which barely lessened at the sight of his open eyes. Everything around them was empty white space.
"Arthur, can you hear me?" Ariadne asked breathlessly.
"I can't…" He groaned. "My head."
Micah, terror personified, turned to Ariadne. "What's happening?"
She swallowed. "Helena… She warned me… It's his memories, they're starting to break through…Physically."
"Isn't that what we want?"
"Not like this," Ariadne whispered. "Slowly, meshing, remember? This is… violent. He can't keep up."
"How do we help him?" Cobb asked.
"We have to keep going."
"Where's Eames?" Arthur slurred.
Ariadne and Cobb exchanged a glance, before Ariadne turned back to Arthur: "Gone."
Mal spun around him in a graceful pirouette. "Loosen up, Arthur," she trilled in her throaty French voice.
An Arthur of eighteen years old blushed. "Mal…"
"Mon petit frère," Mal cajoled. "Danse!"
Reluctantly, Arthur took her hand. They danced together, to a pace set by the brisk French jazz that overwhelmed the small club. Everywhere was cigarette smoke, alcohol, sensuality.
Mal leaned in close, breathing in his ear. "Look around you, Arthur. Look at all the pretty girls…"
"I already have a pretty girl in my arms," Arthur joked.
"Ouais, but you cannot take me home."
Arthur shrugged. "What's your boyfriend's name again?"
"Dominic. You and him will be the best of friends, I just know it."
"I doubt it. He'll forever be the one who kept you away from me."
Mal swatted him on the shoulder. "Hush. Jealousy does not become you."
Arthur smirked. "What does become me, then?"
"Judging by the way that girl is looking at you," Mal said, nodding behind him. Arthur turned, catching the eye of a curly-blonde studying him from a table. She winked.
He looked back at Mal. "Always looking out for me, huh, Mal?"
"Anything for you, mon ami," she said brightly. "One more dance?" They eased into a slower dance, standing close together.
"Anything for you, Mal."
The happiness and peace of the scene was abruptly shattered by Ariadne's shriek:
"Cobb!"
Arthur spun around in time to see Cobb crumple to the floor, blood spewing from his mouth.
"No, no, no, please, Papa…"
Young Arthur sobbed, gripping onto the lapels of his father's jacket. Eli's eyes were open, blank, staring at the ceiling and not at the son who desperately clung to him.
"Papa," Young Arthur begged. "Come back, please, no, God…" He looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down his face. "God, please, please, this one thing…"
There was no answer from the heavens, nor from the group of dream sharers watching the scene, unknown to Young Arthur but very much to Present Arthur.
Eli laid in a pool of dark blood, and Young Arthur's eyes were relentlessly drawn to the thick substance that stains the knees of his jeans that rest beside Eli. He gulped, following the blood that stemmed from the bullet hole in Eli's chest, spread over the carpet of the Russian apartment…
Young Arthur's eyes locked on something else, lying next to Eli. He reached forward, lifting the red die from the floor. He swallowed, still crying, as he rolls the die.
Four.
"Arthur! Arthur!"
"Is he…"
"That was Mal?"
"Arthur!"
He gasped, feeling like he'd just been revived with CPR. Arthur glanced around, his eyes heavy, barely making out the three faces above him, the light of the empty white room nearly blinding him.
"No more," Arthur croaked. "I can't…"
"He killed them, so Cobb and Eames have woken up, should we-"
"We can't stop now," Ariadne hissed.
"Ariadne," Arthur moaned. "Please…"
She looked at him, chocolate brown eyes meeting dark brown. Arthur felt haggard, exhausted, drained.
"I don't know how much more I can take," he whispered.
"If we stop now," Ariadne said softly. "We can't come back. You'll die."
"Go," Arthur managed. "I'm dead either way. Save yourself…"
The world vanished.
Twenty-six year old Arthur waited on a train platform somewhere in suburban Germany. In his hand he held a cell phone. He dialed, holding the phone to his ear, his expression sorrowful.
Though they shouldn't be able to hear it, Arthur and the others could hear the dull ringing, followed by a click.
"Hello?"
Adam sucked in a deep breath at the sound of his own voice.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
Past Arthur didn't breathe, but closed his eyes at the sound of his twin's voice.
"Is this Arthur?"
Past Arthur's eyes snapped open, his expression shocked. In the receiver, Adam laughed.
"I knew you'd try to contact me for our birthday. Ghost call is kinda weird though. But I'll take it. Happy birthday to you too, man." He paused and added. "Some telemarketer is probably listening to this in sympathy. So I'll hang up. Talk to you later."
He hung up.
Amazement clouded Arthur's face as he slowly lowered the phone, closing it. He lifted his eyes, staring straight ahead of him as the train rushes into the station.
Present Arthur turned to Adam, standing next to him. Adam's face shone with tears.
"It really was you," Adam croaked. "I thought…"
"I wanted to hear your voice," Arthur admitted. "I missed you so much. I thought of you, every damn day."
Adam inhaled. "Thank you."
Adam's death was more peaceful than the others. Rather than a gruesome shot to the heart or knife to the throat, he simply vanished, taking the train station with him.
The lights flickered in the hospital room, but Arthur barely moved, his heavily bandaged legs in front of him. He stared straight ahead of him, at the blank wall. Next to him, Eva stretched, standing.
"I should go," she said softly.
"I know," Arthur said. "I don't want you to miss your plane."
Eva smiled, reaching out and touching Arthur's face. "That's my boy." She leaned forward and gave him a hug. Arthur clung to her, burying his face in her hair.
"I'll call you when I land," Eva promised. She straightened, Arthur reluctantly letting her draw away. His face was set in a hard mask, which Eva mistook for physical pain. "Should I call the nurse?"
"No," Arthur said quickly. "I'll just, uh… I'll miss you, mom."
Eva frowned. "Arthur, I can call in for another week off-"
"No. You miss your students, you need to go back to work. I'll be fine." He stared at her intently, attempting to convey more with that sentence: that no matter what, he would be fine.
Eva studied him, searching his face, before sighing. "All right. Don't go anywhere, you hear me?"
"Course, mom," Arthur said, the lie thick in his throat. "I love you."
"I love you too, my beautiful son. I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you," Arthur managed. Eva gave him one more brilliant smile before slipping out the door. The moment it closed, Arthur collapsed in on himself, shaking with silent sobs. Arthur, Micah and Ariadne watched in grief-stricken silence.
Eventually, Arthur pulled himself together. He reached for the cell phone resting on the nightstand next to his bed, dialed a number from memory.
"Hey, Monty, it's me," he greeted. "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen: I need you to take me to Washington. There's something I have to do."
"Oh my God!"
Micah screamed, and Ariadne scrambled to his side, trying to stop the blood that spurted from his chest. Arthur was nowhere in sight. The two of them were completely alone in an empty white space.
"Micah, Micah," she crooned desperately.
Micah gasped. "He got me."
Who did? Ariadne could not fathom what was happening. When Helena had said things could get violent if Arthur caught them, she'd envisioned Arthur shooting them, them fighting back. Not these single, sneaky, bloody murders. She felt like she was in a bad horror movie.
"Where is he?" Micah asked.
"I don't know," Ariadne cried. "Please, Micah, don't go…"
She trailed off. The scene was uncanny in how much it reminded her of Arthur's memory of his father's death.
She wondered if Arthur's subconscious viewed Micah with as much awe and love as he had his own father.
Micah looked at her. "F-Find him, Ari. Find him."
His eyes closed, and Ariadne heard a pair of footsteps, growing louder as they approached her. As Micah died in front of her, she rose, and began to run in the opposite direction.
Micah woke gasping.
Immediately, Cobb was at his side, his face pale and drawn. "Micah, breathe, you're okay."
"What…" Micah looked around him, recognizing Ariadne's living room. "Shit."
"Where's Ariadne?" Eames demanded. His hand was rubbing his stomach, and Micah guessed that was where Arthur's mind had killed him.
Micah looked at the couch. Both Arthur and Ariadne were fast asleep, mirroring the other.
"Still there," Micah said.
Eames got up and went to the PASIV. Adam's hand on his arm stopped him.
"What are you doing?" Adam asked.
"Shutting it down," Eames grunted. "Before Arthur does her in, or worse."
"No, you can't!" Micah exclaimed. "Eames, she's looking for him, she's getting close, she…" He trailed off, remembering the footsteps and how terrified Ariadne had looked when she realized Micah was dying, leaving her there…
He shook his head. "She can do it."
"I don't like this," Eames grumbled, looking at Cobb.
Cobb was shaking. "Neither do I. But we have to trust Ariadne. This is what she wants. We have to let her try."
"I trust her. It's Arthur's mind I don't trust…"
"Well, there's nothing we can do about that now," Adam snapped. "Whatever happens next, they're in this together."
The four men looked at the two unconscious dreamers on the couch. Micah took a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to them:
Stay safe.
Ariadne ran, her breath coming in harsh pants. She could still hear someone pursuing her, until a gunshot shattered in front of her. She yelped and took a hairpin turn, diving-
Falling heavily onto a hardwood floor.
Ariadne groaned, dragging herself upright, sitting back on her heels. In front of her was a small living room, dominated by windows that showed downtown Paris. Slowly, she rose to her feet as she became aware that classic rock and roll was coming from the stereo sitting near the bookshelf, surrounded by photographs of her and Arthur. But this couldn't be where she thought she was...
She looked behind her, but saw no sign of the white room, nor someone intent on killing her. Instead, she saw her old dining table, the elegant paintings that dominated the wall. She froze.
Arthur and Ariadne were seated at the table, eating dinner together.
"…And I have to buy new books," Past Ariadne was grumbling. "Because I haven't spent enough money on school already-"
"I'll pay for them," Arthur said quickly.
Ariadne rolled her eyes. "Please. Let me rant without you inserting your chivalry."
Arthur chuckled. "Okay." He hesitated. "But there is something…"
Ariadne groaned. "Oh boy."
"I know that you've been looking for a work space," Arthur said hurriedly. "And you're right, your apartment is much too small. So, um… I have a space for you."
"Oh no," Ariadne said. "How much did you spend?"
"Nothing."
"Sure…"
"I'm telling the truth. The work space is here, in my apartment." He blushed as Ariadne could only stare at him, her mouth slightly open. "I cleaned out my spare room… I wasn't using it, honestly, it was just there. I thought you'd appreciate it more."
Ariadne swallowed. "You did that for me?"
"Yes."
She took a deep breath, before beaming. "Arthur, this is wonderful! Thank you, thank you!" She leaned forward and kissed him eagerly. Arthur's eyes slid closed, and only now did Present Ariadne see that he'd smiled at her joy. Her eyes welled up.
She knew what was coming, but her heart still lurched as her younger self broke the kiss to gasp, "I love you."
Arthur's eyes widened. "What…"
She blushed. "I love you."
He swallowed. "Do you mean that?" He asked, voice tiny.
Ariadne nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. Arthur, I love you."
"Say it again."
She looked amused, but indulged him. "Arthur Zaleski, I am in love with you."
A smile, a true, glorious, smile, graced Arthur's face. He gripped her hand in his, their dinner forgotten. "I love you too, Ariadne."
Past Ariadne suddenly vanished.
Ariadne stood still, mouth open in surprise. The scene seemed to have frozen, Arthur's eyes still locked on where she'd just been.
So of course, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Arthur stood up, turning to face her.
"Hello, Ariadne," he murmured.
Ariadne tried to compel her feet to move, to get away from this threat, but she was stunned by that scene and the sudden turn of events. "I…"
"I've been waiting for you for a long time."
And then, she knew.
He looked so sad, so sorrowful, and he was staring at her with rampant longing and desire, and his shoulders were hunched in misery and she realized this was no mere memory spasm, this was something played on a loop, in a corner of a mind where a past self was kept-
She trembled. "Arthur?"
He smiled somberly. "I knew you would find me eventually."
Ariadne reached forward, desperately trying to touch him, prove he was real, but the world abruptly collapsed, and she was back in the white room, her hand reaching for nothing in front of her.
She took a deep breath. She smiled.
He's still here.
and there you have it. review, please
next chapter: we check in with the rest of the team in reality, while Arthur and Ariadne continue their trek through Arthur's mind...