This little oneshot is for my friend, Meg, who asked for me to write some Arthur/Ariadne. So I did.
Of all the things to be afraid of, it just had to be something stupid.
He wasn't afraid of being shot – it happened enough already anyway – or kidnapped, or tortured, or even being trapped in limbo. All those things were to be feared, but they didn't set him too much on edge, since to him, they only ever really happed in dreams. No, his worst fear just had to be something stupid like thunderstorms.
He supposed it was because it reminded him of his parent's fights. The thunder sounded like his father's voice; deep, booming and loud, with an underlying threatening danger.
The lightning made him think of the lamp in his parents room that had been hit one too many times with a heavy flying object, not intended for it, but another target. This caused the lamp to short circuit and fill his childhood room just down the dark hall with sporadic, fluorescent light flashes.
And he would sit, alone, and wait every night for the storm to pass.
The thing that he did like about real storms, though, was the following rain. The patter of the drops on the earth washed away the terror of the storm like it was dirt on the street, provided the catharsis he needed to overcome his previous fright.
However, nothing like rain ever followed his parent's fights. His mum didn't come in and hug him and tell him not to worry. His dad didn't check on him to see if he was alright. He would lie awake and alone in bed until the early hours of the morning, the long ended shouts still ringing in his ears. No catharsis.
And as he sat at his desk in the warehouse, still determinedly looking up information on Fischer that could be of use, the thunder that echoed through the mostly empty concrete structure caused him to tense. The followed lightning pushed him to squeeze his eyes shut, trying to squash his resurfacing memories. He could almost hear the china tea plate shatter as it hit the floor of his parents' bedroom, years ago.
He hated feeling so lost and out of control. He liked everything around him to be perfect; his desk was neat, suit impeccable, hair slicked back. His thoughts and emotions were always under control, locked away behind steel walls in his mind. But the chaos of the thunder broke his mind down, made it run wild with fear and memories he was trying to suppress.
The thunder rolled again and he dropped his pen, his body tensing as he waited for it to pass.
"Arthur?" a quiet voice asked from somewhere behind him as the lightning hit the walls of the room like an electric shock before disappearing. "Are you alright?"
Arthur turned his chair in the direction of the voice, forcing a tight smile at Ariadne as she watched him, worry in her eyes.
"Hmm? Of course I'm alright," he replied, trying to appear nonchalant, but fairly certain that his slight, unintentional wince at the next thunderclap gave him away.
"You look...afraid," Ariadne said, watching him carefully. "Is it the storm?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur scoffed, picking up his pen and quickly turning away so she couldn't read the fear that he was sure resided in his eyes.
"Arthur, I'm more observant than you may think," she stated, looking a bit put out at his apparent lack of faith in her. "I won't tell anyone, if that's what worries you."
"It's not," Arthur said quickly. "Well, I mean, it sort of is. Don't tell Eames anyway. I'd never live it down." He sighed, realizing that he'd just admitted to her that he was indeed afraid of thunderstorms.
Ariadne laughed lightly. "I wouldn't put you through that kind of mental anguish. I'm not that cruel."
"Good to know some people aren't," he said bitterly, staring at his well-shined shoes, avoiding her face.
Ariadne sighed at his guarded body language and resentful statement. She walked over, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, then frowned.
"Arthur, you're so tense. Relax. The storm's not going to hurt you."
"Easy for you to say," he muttered, making the mistake of looking up into her eyes.
And suddenly, like water breaking through a dam, the whole story poured out. Years of his childhood that he had never spoken a word of to anyone, even Dom, and had tried so hard to forget came flooding from his mouth and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Arthur had never experienced anything quite like it. He was terrified, but relieved at the same time, finally letting years of bottled emotions escape their confinement in his mind.
Ariadne sat and listened through the whole thing. She didn't speak, just listened in silence, and when he had said his last word and sat, out of breath, looking broken and excited and depressed and adorably confused and a million other illegible emotions, she leaned over, took his hand in hers, squeezed it gently and pulled him to his feet.
"Let's go get some coffee. I think you need it."
Arthur smiled his first genuine smile in a long time and nodded. "Thank you, Ariadne."
She smiled back, dropped his hand and hugged him tightly. "You're welcome, Arthur," she said quietly. She took a step back and looked him in the eye. "A thunderstorm isn't a stupid thing to be afraid of when you have reasons like that. You shouldn't feel ashamed or think any less of yourself because of it." She paused, as if daring him to argue. He didn't. "And I won't breathe a word of what you said to anyone."
He didn't speak, simply took her hand, intertwining their fingers, letting the gesture do the talking for him. And as they walked out of the bleak warehouse and into the pounding rain, both trying to fit under Ariadne's small red and yellow umbrella, Arthur laughed at the absurdity of it all.
He laughed at the fact that he had just poured out his entire life story to a near stranger and felt completely at ease with it. He laughed because he was more comfortable with Ariadne than anyone but Dom. He laughed because she had somehow known that he simply needed to hear that his fear was not stupid and, in turn, that he was not stupid for his fear. And he laughed about how they were now walking down the street to go get coffee at one in the morning, both more wet than dry, no thanks to the umbrella.
And as Arthur glanced at the girl beside him who was laughing at the uselessness of her umbrella and the ridiculous expression he was sure was on his face, he thought that maybe, maybe, he had found the rain at last.
There it is. I'm really proud of this one. I saw Inception about a week ago for the first time, again two nights ago, and it's just invaded my mind. Especially Joseph Gordon-Levitt. He is an exceptional actor and he's extremely attractive. That doesn't hurt. Arthur was definitely my favourite character. Anyway, please review :)