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.

Thanksthanksthanks always to the Reviewers- Guest: Yes, Arthur did make a promise... I think many readers are in the exact same position/point of view as you, though I hope you're not as upset as you seem to be! D: MajesticMoments: I love me some angst, if you haven't gathered that by now! And I love responding to reviews, it's the least I can do, really. And yes, almost done! :) Iole17: You can still say poor Eames, it's a tragedy all around, I think. But I agree about the pairing, definitely. Knuckiducki: Hmmm meeting Arthur's mother? there are two chapters left... I've got some ideas perpetually floating around... thanks! In. Blue. 85: hey, you remembered that Arthur told Adam to meet/give something to Ariadne! Any guesses? recey2010: yes, definitely. thanks for leaving the note though! Caliber13: thanks so much! "perfect person," LOL. I think this chapter is paced even slower, so there's that. I feel sorry for Eames too! What a mess. But I never even considered for a moment ending the story with an Eames/Ariadne thing. Ew. There's hope all around, I think.

Chapter title from the absolutely stunning song from Kate Havnevik. Completely perfect for Ariadne right now.

Grace

Tuesday, October 25, 2011: Paris, France: Ariadne and Arthur's apartment: Ariadne

Slowly, she found a pattern again.

True to her word, she called Miles. He turned up on her doorstep within minutes after her call. He looked tired and weary, and he didn't demand an explanation when she broke down into tears at the sight of him. He only hugged her, taking her inside her apartment and making a cup of tea.

"Dom told me," he said, by way of explanation. He watched her, as she took a long drink of the tea. "I'm so sorry, Ariadne. I can't imagine how you feel."

"A little like a widow, I expect," she said. "Thanks for coming, Professor."

"Stephen or Miles, my dear," Miles replied.

She nodded. "Stephen, then. What did Dom say, specifically?"

Miles looked more like an old man than she'd ever seen, and realized this was probably a glimpse into how he'd been after Mal died. "That the job was completed, and you succeeded. That Arthur killed your employer. That the employer's associates killed Arthur."

She hadn't expected anything more, or anything less. "Has he found his children?"

"Oh yes," Miles said. "One of Arthur's tips worked out; they were in Santa Barbara. A little scared, tired, but they're fine. I'm flying out tomorrow to see them. Dom is moving to Chicago, and I thought he could use the help. You can come, if you'd like."

She shook her head, smiling sadly. "Thanks for the offer. But I'm going to stay here."

"Ariadne, he's not coming back."

Ariadne swallowed, forcing herself to meet Miles' gentle gaze. "I know that."

"You remind me of Dom," Miles said. "After Mal passed away. He was inconsolable. Those children, and yes, Arthur, were all that held him together. He would often dream, just to see her again." Miles hesitated. "You're not doing that, are you?"

"He told me not to," Ariadne murmured. "And I'm not ready to see him, like that."

"Smart girl," Miles agreed. "When will you come back to school?"

She shrugged. "Soon. I've already missed so much school…"

"Your professors believe you were working on another once-in-a-lifetime internship," Miles said loftily. "Your classmates are quite jealous, as this is your second in as many years."

Ariadne smirked. "Thanks, Stephen."

"Of course."

"Have you told Geneviève yet?" Ariadne asked.

Miles nodded sadly. "Two days ago. She's devastated. The first thing she wanted to know was if he'd managed to save you. I told her that he did." Ariadne blinked furiously, and Miles grasped her hand. "Geneviève is hanging on to a few things Arthur left in his office. She'll be keeping his research, but if you'd like to pick up his personal belongings…"

"I will," she murmured. "I appreciate that."

A silence fell between them. Ariadne swirled her tea idly, watching the leaves tumble and fall. Miles watched her solemnly.

"Hang on, Ariadne," he said seriously. "Hang on to reality."

"It's…" She shook her head, but it was too late: the ever-present tears were falling again. "It's like hell, Stephen. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function… All I can think about is him…I miss him so much."

Miles nodded knowingly. "'Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.'"

She stared. "What?"

"Edna St. Vincent Millay," Miles explained. "I read a lot of books on grief after I lost my daughter, Ariadne. It never gets easier. It just becomes more bearable. You should know that memory is flawed. You will wake up one day, and he won't be the first thing you see."

"Do you not see Mal anymore?" She asked breathlessly.

He hesitated. "No. I see her all the time. In the park, walking the hallways of the university, shopping for groceries… I take comfort in it. I'm not insane, my dear. And I know that Mal is gone. I just like to imagine she is still with me, in some way."

She closed her eyes. "Thank you, Stephen."

"You did not deserve this," Miles whispered brokenly. "When Dom told me he needed an architect, I knew you were his only option. I figured the worst that could happen is you would get sucked into his world of espionage. I never imagined you would lose the person who meant the most to you."

Ariadne blanched. "Stephen, please, don't blame yourself…"

"I remember the day I first met Arthur," Miles continued as if he hadn't heard her. "It was 1999, a cold winter's day. Mal visited me at my office, though I know she was only there because she was waiting for Dom to fly in; he'd just finished a job in Ireland. And who did Mal have in tow but a skinny, shy, quiet boy. Just eighteen years old. But with such an incredible self-possession; I thought he was far older when he introduced himself. Mal told me that Dom was interested in introducing him to the dream world. And I laughed, and I asked him, 'What's got you interested?' And he looked me straight in the eye and he said, 'There's nothing quite like it.' And I knew I'd met a very special soul."

She took a deep breath. "There's no one else like him."

"I think you're right," Miles agreed. "I think he's the greatest person I've ever had the marvelous fortune to meet." He hesitated. "Dom told me what happened to him in Afghanistan. Just a couple days ago, when he told me what happened in Los Angeles…"

"Oh," she murmured.

"Ariadne," Miles said seriously. "Did you know that Arthur told me that he was going to die in Los Angeles before you left the country for the job?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Did he tell you how guilty he felt?"

"What?" She asked, shocked.

Miles smiled, somberly. "He'd just told me what Dom had done; blackmailed the two of you into helping him. Arthur looked so sad, and so sorry… He said—mind you, I'm ad-libbing, my memory is poor—he said, 'I'm sorry, Stephen. I really thought I could do this, walk away from it all without hurting her, that I could have this past and a life with her.' And I told him I thought he'd done it too, and he said, 'I thought I could protect her. But all I've done is ruin her life.'"

"No," Ariadne whispered.

"That's what I said," Miles said, chuckling. "I told him he was a good man, a selfless one. And then he told me what he was planning to do: 'I can't lose her, Stephen. I can't watch her die, not without doing every thing I can… If it comes down to my choice, I'll pick her every time.'"

And he'd done just that. Ariadne remembered him kissing her, before turning and allowing himself to be captured and killed, allowing her and Micah to escape alive, while he was shot and thrown down an elevator shaft…

She could hear a strange ripping noise, and it took her a moment to realize the sound came from her. Miles was rubbing her back.

"I told him he couldn't waste a moment," Miles murmured. "And he laughed and said he wasn't planning to. I hugged him, because I think, ever since I met him, part of me has thought of him as a son, like Dom… I told him to go to you, and he said, 'Always.'"

That familiar endearment, the phrase he'd told her a million times.

"Be careful." "Always."

"I'm always with you…"

"Stephen," she croaked. "How do I move on? How do I let him go, knowing what I've lost?"

"I don't know," Miles said. "And I don't mean to add to your grief. I just want you to know that you can't give up. He didn't die for you to wither away without him."

She looked at Miles. "I know."

"I'm certain the only reason Dom never thought about following Mal was because of his children," Miles said gently. "He couldn't leave them orphans, no matter how much he missed her. That's what scares me about you, my dear. What will keep you here?"

Ariadne took a deep breath. "Knowing he wanted me to stay, and to move on, and be happy."

"Is it enough?"

She closed her eyes. "It has to be."

She managed to call Cobb a couple days later, once Miles had called to confirm the extractor had settled in Chicago and given her his new number.

"Hello?" Cobb sounded tired, but pleased.

She swallowed. "Hi, Dom."

He gasped. "Ariadne! Hey! How are you?" There'd been a short pause. "Don't answer that. I know how you feel." She knew he was probably the only person she knew about whom that was true.

"How are you?" She asked instead.

"I'm fine," Cobb said seriously. "We've just moved in, I have my kids back, they're enrolled in school… We're going to be okay."

She couldn't help but smile. "I'm happy to hear that, Dom. How are your kids?"

"Coping," Cobb said. "They're not happy with how protective I've gotten, but I can't help it."

"I don't blame you," she murmured. Another awkward silence fell.

"Ariadne…" Cobb took a deep breath. "I'm so-"

"Please don't," Ariadne croaked. "I know you're sorry. I know everyone's sorry. It's becoming too much. I never know how to respond."

"I know the feeling," Cobb said with a humorless chuckle. "How's Paris?"

She shrugged. "Lonely. I'm having a difficult time remembering what I used to do here, before Arthur."

"I want to…" Cobb coughed. "I don't know what your plans are, but I want you to know you're always welcome here. If you want to come for a weekend, or anything, really. Thanksgiving, Christmas…"

She laughed. "I'm Canadian. I don't celebrate Thanksgiving."

"Well, then come for a giant meal," Cobb suggested. "I'm just saying that my door is always open. My kids really want to meet you."

"Do they know about Arthur?"

Cobb sighed. "They know he's in the same place as their maman is now. Philippa understands what this means, but James still thinks they're in a foreign country."

I met a traveler from an antique land*. She shook her head, clearing her mind of Arthur's favorite poem.

"Arthur loved them," she murmured.

"Yes," Cobb agreed. "They know that; I made sure of it. And they loved him like he was an uncle. They, uh… I told them about you. They know you were together."

"Oh."

"That's partly why they want to meet you," Cobb continued softly. "They remember what I was like after Mal died, and they… They hate to think of Arthur's lady all by herself."

She almost laughed. "Arthur's lady?"

"It was hard to explain that people can love each other and not be married. Somehow the term 'girlfriend' didn't seem adequate."

"I bet," she agreed. "Look, Dom… I was just calling to check in. And I want you to know that I'm hanging in there."

"Good," Cobb said, sounding relieved. "Don't hesitate to call, Ariadne."

"I know," she murmured. "Tell your kids I say hello, please."

Cobb started moving; she could hear him shuffling in the background. "They're right here, actually… If you wanted to say hello yourself."

She hesitated, considering his proposition. She'd never talked to Cobb's kids; she didn't even know what she would say. She stared at the countertop in front of her for a long moment, debating…

"Okay," she breathed at last. "Sure."

"Okay," Cobb repeated. The phone was jostled. "Pippa! James! Ariadne is on the phone!" Then in an aside: "I'll put you on speakerphone, okay?"

She nodded silently as a dim beep came in the background.

And then her ears were promptly assaulted by squeaky voices: "Ariadne! Ariadne!"

"Hi, there," she murmured, doing her best to sound cheerful. "Who am I speaking to?"

"I'm Philippa," a high-pitched little girl's voice intoned.

"And I'm James!" A similarly high-pitched voice added, this one of a young boy.

She smiled. "I see. My name is Ariadne."

"Daddy told us," Philippa said seriously. "Are you really calling from Paris? I love Paris."

"I really am," Ariadne confirmed. "How do you like Chicago?"

"It's okay," Philippa said. "I miss California."

"How about you, James?"

James was eager to answer. "It's loud!"

She had to laugh at that. "I bet. I've never been to Chicago myself, but I've heard about it from friends…" Including Arthur.

"Ariadne," James squeaked. "Is Arthur with you?"

She swallowed, hearing Cobb in the background impatiently sshing James, reminding him…

"No," she said at last. "He's not. Arthur's gone, James."

"Daddy says he loved you," Philippa interjected.

Ariadne gripped the counter, her nails digging into the surface, searching for something real. "He did."

"Did you love him?"

"I still do," she whispered. "So much."

"We miss him," James said hurriedly.

Ariadne swallowed again, fighting her tears. The children really had no idea… "I miss him too, James."

Cobb seemed to realize Ariadne was about to lose it. "Say bye to Ariadne now, kids."

"Bye!" Ariadne managed to blubber out her own farewell when Cobb turned the phone off of speaker.

"Ariadne?"

"Yeah," she whispered.

"I'm sorry about that, they don't understand-"

She shook her head. "It's okay. They can't know what's going on."

"Ariadne-"

"Dom, I have to go," she said impatiently. "I'll talk to you some time, okay?"

He sighed. "Okay. Goodbye, Ariadne."

"Bye, Dom."

She slammed the phone down on the counter, buried her face in her arms, and began to cry.

A couple days later, Ariadne was rhythmically vacuuming the apartment. In the background was one of Arthur's favorite Ella Fitzgerald records, humming along smoothly in the record player.

"So taunt me, and hurt me, Deceive me, desert me, I'm yours, till I die… So in love... So in love... So in love with you, my love... am I..."

She sighed, turning off the vacuum and running a hand across her forehead. Ariadne looked in the hallway, at the small desk where she and Arthur always left their random junk, picked up during the day: receipts, train ticket stubs, change, notes, their keys, sometimes their phones.

Her eyes zoomed in on the business card she'd tossed onto the smooth wooden surface without a thought: Yusuf's business card.

Without really being aware of what she was doing, she wandered to the desk, picked up the card and dialed the number.

It was long-distance, and took a while. She listened to the dim ringing, until—

"Hujambo."

Ariadne swallowed nervously. "Is this Makena?"

"Who am I speaking to?" Makena asked in English, hesitating.

"Edward Eames and I came to Mombasa a few weeks ago to offer Yusuf, your husband, a job," Ariadne said.

Makena gasped. "Oh. You are the girl. Ariadne."

"That's right."

"Yusuf told me what happened to your love," Makena murmured. "How your love has passed on." Ariadne blinked at the words, but Makena spoke again. "Yusuf said you might call, but I did not think you would so soon. How are you doing?"

"Not very well," Ariadne admitted. "I keep thinking about what you told me. About the jina."

"Everything is all right if you love each other," Makena recalled. "Yes. I can see why you are doubting it."

"I miss him more than I can really comprehend," Ariadne murmured. "Makena, what do I do now?"

"Ariadne," Makena said seriously. "Do you remember what else I told you, when you raised your doubts the first time?"

She thought frantically, and the answer came a moment later.

"You told me, 'Keep faith, young one. He will return, but only if you learn to let him go first,'" Ariadne remembered.

"Yes."

Ariadne froze. "But what does that mean? He can't come back. He's dead."

"Yes," Makena repeated. "But do you really think you will never see him again?"

"What do you mean?"

Makena sighed deeply, but Ariadne imagined she could hear a smile in her sigh. "Oh, young one. He hasn't really left you. He might be gone in body, but don't you think part of him will always stay with you?"

"I'm always with you…"

She swallowed. "Do you think so?"

"Oh yes. He is just on the other side, that's all."

"I'll see you on the other side."

"You are never alone if you've been loved, Ariadne. And he loved you."

Everything anyone had told her since Arthur died… Everyone from Cobb, to Eames, to Micah, Yusuf, Miles and even Cobb's children… It all paled suddenly, in comparison to Makena's words.

"Makena," she breathed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, young one. You will heal."

*The first line of "Ozymandias" by Shelley. My favorite poem, too. And man, do I love Edna St. Vincent Millay.

I personally take on a point of view like Makena's when friends/family lose loved ones, or I lost a loved one. They don't ever truly leave. And like Miles, I swear that I sometimes see them. We're not crazy; just lonely.

Review, please. One more chapter left! Not all has been said/seen/done... I'd love to hear your predictions for the next chapter, if you have one.