a.n. The last chapter I posted on FF net had to be edited twice while on the site and even though I promised myself not to post chapters without careful deliberation, I simply can't help myself. I blame your reviews. I love reading them so much, I simply can't wait to hear what you have to say next. So, keep them coming. You'll get more chapters that way :)
disclaimer. Inception = not mine
Changes
.Rift.
It's been six months since Arthur and Cobb last spoke.
Lord knows that Arthur has tried to call, tried to write, tried everything short of showing up on his doorstep... But Cobb never answers. It doesn't take a genius to work out why. When Cobb said the inception gig was his last job, he meant it.
So, it's been five months since Arthur's last attempt to contact Cobb, and four months since Arthur banned any mention of his name. The progression was methodical. I'll call him. He'll call me when he's ready. Fuck him! I don't care if he ever calls!
He'll never admit it, but I know he misses him. He's just too proud to say it.
Which is why getting Arthur to make the call is going to be a problem...
"Listen, Ariadne," he almost shouts five days after his run-in with the feds. "He won't talk to me ordinarily let alone to persuade him to do a job! The bastard's much too stubborn. Besides, it's not his war, and he has his kids to think about."
His voice trails off a little at the end, and though he understands Cobb's reasoning, I know it kills him that his best friend wants nothing to do with him.
"He has you to think about," I counter. "Us. Cobb is a reasonable man. I'm if you explained the situation to him, he'd –"
"Turn us down, that's what. He'd pick himself and his kids over us any day, so would any man."
"You can't be sure."
"We knew the risks, Ariadne. I don't need him to remind me."
He storms out of the house with that, leaving me wondering where the cool, calm and collected Arthur I once knew disappeared to. That man was a rock, I recall. Nothing could ruffle him.
Which makes me wonder, has Arthur changed or did simply I not know the real him before now? Or maybe he's the same, and this situation is simply worse than I ever could have imagined.
These questions and the more pressing ones of how exactly we are going to deal with this situation gnaw at me for the rest of the afternoon. They gnaw at me so hard that my head starts to hurt, throbbing in time with the iron fist that has begun to tighten around my heart. I want to sleep – get away for a while – but try as I might, my mind won't shut down. I'm scared, I realise. I've never been so scared in my life.
When I was frightened or stressed as a child, I used to write down my problems and post them away. It was a stupid ritual and I bet it pissed off the postal workers, but it nevertheless seemed to help.
Giving up on sleep, I decide to give the ritual a go for lack of a better idea. I shuffle downstairs and easily find a pad of paper by the phone. A pen, however, is not so easily found. I'm always losing the ones in my pencil case so I must have taken the last of Arthur's last time I was here.
Down but not out, I head into Arthur's study where I'm sure I'll be able to find one. I'm not usually allowed in here, but what Arthur doesn't know won't hurt him.
Arthur's study is the spacial equivalent of Arthur's personality. It's modern and minimalist, decked out in fine Italian furniture that one might find in a catalogue entitled: For the suave and sophisticated metrosexual man. Though the rest of Arthur's apartment is of a similar design, he has a special connection with this room. I know this because on the few occasions I haven't woken up in his bed beside him, I've found him here, sleeping at his desk.
I walk up to the desk (which is made from wood undoubtedly more expensive than my entire college dorm room), and scan the top for a pen. A fine looking ball-point with Arthur's name inscribed on it catches my eye instantly, but it doesn't hold my attention.
However, a piece of paper with Dom Cobb's name on it does.
Unable to help myself, I pick the paper up. It's a letter. One of many if the pile of scrunched up balls in the waste basket is anything to go by.
Dom,
I know you don't want to hear from me and I've respected that by staying away from you. However, something has happened that has put Ariadne and I in grave danger. We need your help. Please understand that I wouldn't ask otherwise.
– Arthur
So, Arthur has been trying to get in touch Cobb. The proof is in my hands, though it's much too late to send it. He will have to call. There is no other choice.
"What are you doing in here?"
I swing around, and find myself face to face with Arthur. The paper is still in my hand; I've been caught red handed. There's no point trying to lie my way out of this one.
"You have to call him."
His dark eyes flash as he walks towards me and for a second, I'm actually afraid he might strike me. It doesn't come to that, thankfully, but he does snatch the letter from my hand and it crumples in his grip. It mimics his expression.
"I know."
a.n. I'm thinking I might do the next chapter in Cobb's point of view... What do you think? Should I switch between them from now on? I think I should... It'll be more rounded that way.