A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Voldemort's Spawn:)
Thanks everybody, who reviewed, alerted, or added my story to his favorites!
(Hopefully) enjoy and review!
Where is she?
Arthur felt like he could start screaming within minutes. He called her so many times and received no answer at all.
He needed her beside him right now and, in the same time, didn't want to feel like that. He didn't want to be so dependent; he'd never been like that before.
He reached for a glass of water and discovered that his hands were shaking.
Calm down, he said to himself. It doesn't matter if Ariadne is here, or not.
But it did matter.
He could lie to himself all the time, but there was no way he could convince himself; without Ariadne he was nothing. Without her he could feel nothing but overwhelming uncertainty. It wasn't something that Arthur could stand; he needed some solid base, he always did. Now it was only Ariadne, who provided that.
He loved her for that.
He hated her for that.
"You seem a little tired?", Miles observed after they'd taken sits in small café near University.
"I…", Ariadne paused thinking about all her sleepless nights. "Too much work, I guess.", she finished lamely.
"Really?", Miles didn't seem convinced. "There is something bothering you. Have you come for help?"
Ariadne stayed silent for a moment. When she finally decided to speak her voice trembled slightly.
"Frankly, I'd come here to ask you about Dom's new phone number."
Miles seemed bewildered for a while, but when he spoke there was an anger in his voice.
"You can't force him to coming back. I thought you're wiser than that, Ariadne."
"But it's not about the job!", Ariadne exclaimed. "It's about Arthur", she added quieter.
Dream…
Reality…
Reality…
Dream…
Arthur sat in his favorite armchair and trying to suppress voice in his head saying: "Check, just check. You don't have to kill yourself. Just a small cut."
"Pain is in the mind.", he answered loudly. "It doesn't matter if it's a dream or reality, it will hurts the same."
"It might.", the voice agreed. "But maybe not. Maybe it'll give you the certainty you're seeking?"
Arthur shifted uneasily. The urge to listen this quiet voice was almost unbearable. Now he understood Mal almost completely. He wished he could know, be as sure as he was before.
But still he couldn't kill himself, he wasn't completely like Mal.
At least not yet.
Ariadne felt tears forming in her eyes. She looked away from professor Miles.
"I know, we shouldn't disturb him, but…", she wasn't able to finish.
"I'll give you his number.", answered Miles quietly.
"Really?", Ariadne raised her head. "Thank…"
"Don't thank me.", Miles interrupted dryly. "I hope he'll be able to help."
Pain washed through his body, when he stood up to quickly. He needed some fresh air, after being locked inside the buildings for such long time. Some quiet and nice place, without knifes, guns, scissors… Without anything like that.
Arthur hissed in pain, while putting on his jacket. His wounds were still fresh one. He stopped for a second.
It's only three weeks, he realized with jolt of surprise. Only three weeks since I'm back here.
But it feels like years.
Like eternity.
Way too long.
Ariadne could feel her hand trembling, when she opened her bag.
"Damn it!", she cursed silently, when, as always, she wasn't able to find her cell phone.
When she finally managed to pull it out on its screen she saw:
30 incoming calls from: ARTHUR
"Oh, my God.", she whispered, eyes wide with sudden realization of the amount of time she spent outside. She turned on her heel hastily and started running.
Ariadne forgot about piece of paper with Dom's phone number on it in her pocket. Forgot about sympathetic look in Miles eyes, when she told him about what happened.
Only Arthur was important.
When Ariadne finally reached home, she was completely out of breath. She frantically searched for her keys and decided to throw everything out of it. She grabbed keys from the heap of things.
"Arthur?", she asked standing at door. There was no answer.
Ariadne felt her heart sink.
"Arthur?", she repeated. "Arthur!"
He was nowhere. Not in his room, not in bathroom. Not in the kitchen.
Kitchen?
Ariadne inhaled sharply. All over the kitchen's table laid knifes.
Knifes ordered by their sizes.