A/N: Hello there! Here's another chappie for you all! Thanks to LoquaciousLilLovely, for my fourth review (you made me smile!) I hope this chapter is as wonderful as everyone is expecting!
Disclaimer: I OWN Inception. I also own a flying bison and am married to Captain Crunch!
- RaifandRosefan
Chapter 5: Getting There Pt. 1
It is 5:30 am. Paris is moving, its citizens and stowaways rising from their sleep, preparing to face a new day. Ariadne stands in front of a full-length mirror. She has borrowed a shirt from Zelda's closet. Ariadne wears the loose-fitting long-sleeved white button down shirt tucked partially into the same black skinny jeans from the day before. Her hair is tied up in a simple and effortless bun, wisps of loose hair falling haphazardly to frame her face. Her blood splattered converse look like works from Jackson Pollock. Ariadne would be surprised if anyone actually figured out those were her own blood stains. A bright turquoise silk scarf sits around her neck. She'd put the scarf in her bag with the intention of wearing it to class, but forgot about it when she realized she was late. Now, the pristine scarf rests around her neck.
Arthur and Eames are in the bathroom. Arthur, his hair slicked back and wet from a shower, dressed in his vest, trousers and shirt from the day before, stands over the sink washing his face. Eames is in the shower, humming and cleaning himself. They are separated by an opaque navy blue shower curtain decorated with light pink seashells.
"We've got a big day ahead of us, mate." Eames states, from beneath the shower's spray. Arthur is brushing his teeth using his finger and some toothpaste.
"Let's hope nothing goes wrong." Arthur spits and rinses his mouth, "I really should keep a toothbrush here."
"Oi, you didn't know?" Eames washes his back, "Zelda keeps a fifty-pack of spare toothbrushes under the sink."
Arthur opens the cupboard beneath the sink and sees a fifty-pack of basic toothbrushes staring back at him, laughing. Arthur curses beneath his breath, pulling out a toothbrush and preparing to start the process all over again.
Zelda stands in the kitchen over a frying pan, preparing the days delicious breakfast - the smell of which wafts appetizingly through the apartment. Ariadne enters the kitchen. As Zelda turns to her fridge to retrieve the orange juice, Ariadne quickly and happily helps herself to an English sausage. A personal game of hot potato ensues as Ariadne discovers the meaning behind the phrase, "out of the frying pan." Ariadne rests the sausage on a plate. Using a knife and fork, she removes the casing. Zelda turns around at the sound of a fork scraping against porcelain. She takes in the appearance of the young woman before her, noticing a familiar shirt resting on the architect's shoulders.
"Good morning, Zelda," Ariadne inhales deeply, "breakfast smells amazing."
Arthur steps out of the bathroom, smelling minty fresh. He greets the women and takes a seat at the table in the breakfast nook. Ariadne takes her sausage with her to the table. From a sitting position, Arthur pulls out a chair for the architect. As Ariadne sits, Zelda turns to survey her guests.
"Where's that daft little forger of yours?"
"Still in the shower," Arthur offers as he reaches for Ariadne's plate. Ariadne wards him off with a jab from her fork.
"Get your own, Arthur," the architect insists as she shoves a forkful of sausage into her mouth.
Relenting, Arthur gets up from his seat, walking toward the sizzling stove. Rummaging through the cupboards, Arthur finds a plate and holds it out to the sweet woman next to him. Zelda shares breakfast for the growling stomach before her, and Arthur - whose eyes once again burn with satisfaction - trots to the table, devouring his meal. Ariadne, jealously eyes the point man's full plate. She heads over to the stove to get more food for herself.
Once at the stove, Ariadne looks at Zelda who smiles at the architect with an odd glint of approval in her expression. Ariadne peers down at her clothes.
"I hope you don't mind, I took this shirt from your closet. I didn't think it'd be wise to run around the airport in a blood stained shirt."
"Oh, it's no trouble at all. It looks good on you, actually," Zelda smiles. It seems last night's quarrel is forgotten. Ariadne returns the smile before eagerly helping herself to more food.
Eames emerges from the bathroom dripping wet, wearing only a towel. Ariadne wears an expression of playful confusion, while Arthur is too preoccupied with his food to take a second look. Zelda observes the forger's smugness, completely unimpressed by his dripping masculine physique. Was this boy not born with an ounce of shame?
"Must you parade around my apartment naked?"
"Oh, c'mon, Zeze," the forger smiles, "I'm not naked. I'm wearing a towel," Eames begins to loosen his towel, "Unless you want me to take it off-"
"Oi!" Zelda interrupts, "Bloody f-the towel stays on! You hear me? If your mother were to see you-!"
"Alright, alright, I'll stop..." Eames tightens his towel innocently, "don't have to bring mum into it." Eames flashes his schoolboy grin, "c'mere, Zeze. I'm sorry..."
Eames walks toward Zelda, ready to hug her, with his wet self. Zelda in playful defiance smacks Eames with the serving spoon, "Oh shut up and eat your breakfast. It's getting cold."
Eames chuckles with satisfaction as he grabs a plate from the cupboard and serves breakfast for Zelda and then for himself. Everyone eats at the table in the breakfast nook.
Not at all uncomfortable with the nakedness before her, Ariadne starts, "Eames, you don't think you'd be more comfortable eating breakfast with clothes on?"
"What do you mean? I am comfortable," Eames answers, unashamed.
Zelda rolls her eyes, "You never did like clothes..." Zelda chews her food. Arthur and Ariadne look at her in expectation. "When he was a lad, his mother used to have to chase him all over the house to get him to put his kit on." Ariadne and Arthur smile at the forger who appears only slightly embarrassed. "I remember this one time-" Eames squirms,
"Zeze, not the Harrods story-"
"His mother and I were shopping in Harrods - we were looking for dresses to wear to my sister's wedding. We'd only turned away for a second! When we turned around, this young man was running around the store, naked, beating his chest and telling everyone that he was "Mowgli," from The Jungle Book!"
Ariande and Arthur glance at each other, then at the forger. Ariadne and Arthur fall apart with laughter. Ariadne rolls off her chair and onto the floor. Arthur looks Eames in the eye, tearing and barely able to control the laughter coming out of his body.
"The Jungle Book! So-" Arthur pauses, "So-that's where it came from?" Arthur descends into more laughter.
"Laugh all you want," Eames starts, "The Jungle Book is a classic."
Ariadne takes a seat on her chair, tears streaming from her eyes, "Aww, Mowgli... that's so cute!" Ariadne descends into yet another fit of laughter.
"Yeah, yeah," Eames eats his food, pretending to be upset. He looks at Zelda, who smiles in playful vindication. "You had to tell them the Mowgli story, didn't you?"
"It went with your current situation," Zelda offers, guiltless, as she takes another bite of her breakfast.
Ariadne and Arthur manage to pull themselves together. Arthur looks at his watch. Ariadne sobers up when she sees the point man turn his attentions to the task at hand.
"How much time do we have?" Ariadne asks.
"Fifteen minutes," Arthur answers, "We have to go now." Arthur gets up from the table, Ariadne follows. The point man yells back to Eames,
"We're taking your car, Eames. Mine has too many explosives in it."
Ariadne grabs the hooded leather bomber jacket she'd left behind the first time she'd been to the backup point. Eames helps the architect slide the jacket gingerly over her wounded shoulder. Ariadne slings her messenger bag, containing her and Arthur's fake identification, carefully across her body.
"God speed," Eames utters, as Arthur opens the door.
"Good luck," Zelda adds.
"Thank you," Ariadne returns. Arthur is already out of the apartment and walking down several flights of stairs.
Ariadne closes the door behind her. Eames turns to Zelda who looks at him, smiling. Eames points to the woman in mock-seriousness.
"Remind me never to let you tell the Harrods story, ever again." Zelda laughs off Eames' comment, and they walk toward the kitchen, where the sink is piled high with pots and plates waiting to be cleaned.
"Do you always go naked in front of your colleagues, Mowgli? Or is it just the female ones?"
Eames stands over the rubbish bin, scraping the remains of his breakfast into it. He moves to the sink where Zelda has started to wash dishes.
"Zelda..." Eames grabs a rag and dries a saucer.
"Don't Zelda me. You're the one standing naked in my kitchen for God know what reason."
"I'm just comfortable, is all." Eames puts the saucer in a cupboard.
Zelda hands Eames another soaking plate.
"So, when are you leaving?" Zelda looks over at the forger who focuses on the plate he is drying.
"Little less than an hour."
"You should get dressed then," Zelda enthuses.
"I should," Eames turns to put the plate in the cupboard. "Tell me something..." the forger dries his hands with the rag.
"What?"
"What was my mother thinking when she named me?"
"I don't know. But she liked The Jungle Book. She said she wanted a son like Mowgli, a wild boy with lots of imagination," Zelda ruffles Eames' hair, "and that's exactly what she got! Now go put some clothes on!" Eames slithers away as Zelda reaches to smack him playfully on the bum with a wooden spoon.
The spoon makes contact.
The navy blue cabriolet is parked in the airport parking lot. Ariadne and Arthur stand in front of a self check-in kiosk. Using a credit card registered under a false name, Arthur prints their tickets. The dreamers make their way through the airport, toward the security checkpoint.
"Are you sure this is gonna work?" Ariadne asks, unsure of herself.
"Relax, Ari" Arthur soothes. He places his hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently toward the security checkpoint.
The line at the checkpoint isn't very long. Ariadne pulls out their IDs which are to be presented to the agent before moving to the scanners. Two passengers stand between the dreamers and a night in the slammer. Ariadne tries not to consider the possibilities. Please let this work. Please, please, please. Ariadne does her best to appear calm. She looks over at the point man, who is relaxed and at ease behind his stoic exterior. He's done this way too many times, Ariadne thinks jealously.
It is Arthur and Ariadne's turn to present their tickets and identification. Arthur retrieves the IDs from Ariadne who smiles casually at the agent examining their papers. The agent takes a few moments to compare names and faces. The agent returns Ariadne's boarding pass and Identification. She is ushered toward the security scanners where passengers feverishly remove items of clothing and shoes, sorting them into bins prior to walking through the scanner. Ariadne turns to see Arthur, still standing at the front of the line next to the agent. He is saying something to the agent that Ariadne cannot decipher.
It occurs to Ariadne that she should begin removing her coat and shoes to walk through the scanner. She is dismayed by the realization that she might have to get on the plane without Arthur. Ariadne unzips her coat. Fuck. God please let Arthur get through!
Ariadne painstakingly slides her jacket off her shoulders. A searing jolt of pain rips its way through her chest. Fuck! Shit! For a moment, Ariadne can't breathe. Ariadne bites her lip, trying not to scream. The architect breathes sharply and deeply, going more carefully as she removes her shoes.
The line behind Ariadne grows impatient. She is moving too slow for their comfort. Ariadne glares angrily at one man who pushes the entire line forward causing her to slip and hurt her already throbbing arm. Fuck off! Ariadne gives her aggressor the finger and looks over to the podium where Arthur stands, next to the agent.
The agent returns Arthur's identification and boarding pass. Arthur is allowed to move on to the security scanner. Cool relief washes over the architect. Ariadne quickly and happily removes her other shoe and steps through the scanner. Ariadne is clear. Without stopping to put her shoes on, Ariadne grabs her items from the bins and walks over to a small bench on the opposite wall, above which are backlit posters advertising vacation packages in French. Arthur makes it through the scanner and walks over to the architect.
Every article of clothing is in its proper place on the point man, as he nears the bench. Ariadne has replaced her jacket, bag and one shoe. The architect works intently to replace the remaining shoe without causing any pain. She's cute when tries hard. She's like the little engine that could, Arthur thinks to himself.
After a moment, the shoe is on Ariadne's foot. Arthur helps the architect to her feet. The point man's typically hardened expression softens when they share a glance. Ariadne's stomach flutters. She suppresses the smile creeping onto her lips with a sharp cough. Fuck, he's hot.
Arthur and Ariadne make their way toward their gate.
Eames arrives at Charles de Gaulle, in a taxi. He is fully dressed in a salmon colored oxford shirt with large lapels. He wears his grey trousers with matching suit jacket. The forger walks casually into the airport, his belt and watch in hand. Eames picks up his tickets at the self check-in kiosk.
Ariadne and Arthur sit at their gate, waiting for their plane to begin boarding. Ariadne sits up in her seat,
"Hey Arthur," the point man looks from the window, over to Ariadne, and back.
"Yes, Ari?" He asks calmly.
"Have you ever read The Jungle Book?" Ariadne fixes Arthur with a childlike curious stare. The randomness of Ariadne's question surprises the point man.
"Um, no. I haven't, actually. Why?" Arthur peers over at the architect whose brow furrows with the effort of thought.
"Nothing. It's just-your reaction this morning... to Eames calling himself Mowgli... I thought you might have never read The Jungle Book, for some odd reason."
"No, I've never read it, but I've heard of it. I didn't know one of the characters was named Mowgli."
"You're kidding me, right?" Arthur does not respond, "We're going to a book store when we land in New York," Ariadne settles back into her seat, "You're gonna read The Jungle Book."
Ariadne sees the familiar figure of a man in a gray suit and pink shirt gliding past them. The man strode down the corridor, merging with the milieu.
Good luck, Eames.
"US Airways Flight 10 departing from Paris to New York City will now begin boarding."
Ariadne and Arthur listen for their seats to be called.
Eames stands in line at the gate for his flight. The architect and point man's seats are called over the loud speaker. Eames smiles inwardly. Good luck, guys.
His boarding pass is scanned.
Eames exhales broadly as he steps onto the jet bridge. Another day, another continent.
A/N: I hope this chapter wasn't OOC/AU/Cracky! Anyways,
What did we learn? 1. Eames LOVES being naked (You're welcome!). 2. Eames' real name is Mowgli (I like him having a playful name). 3. Arthur has never read The Jungle Book (wtf?).
This chappie kinda delves into the characters' personal lives - or rather - Eames' personal life. I think this is good. Action/Adventure is good, but Action/Adventure&HEART... is even better, no? Let me know if this chapter was too sappy. Do I need to tone it down? Should I keep delving into their personal lives?
-R&Rf