A/N: 2nd update in less than 1 day! Shocker, I know.
But I was on fire and I couldn't stop for anything (not even to use the potty - yes, I still use that phrase).
WARNING: This chapter is dark and contains some tough (read: triggering) material. Do not read if you are sensitive to SI. But if you love a good angsty storyline... by all means, read on!
Disclaimer: Sometimes, I dream about playing with puppies - I'VE BEEN INCEPTED! (this should be like the paranoid parrot meme)
Enjoy!
- RaifandRosefan
Chapter 10: Ariadne Undone
You did this to him, Ari. You did this. This is all your fault. You did this. You did this to him. YOU HURT EVERYBODY YOU LOVE! You did this to him you did this to him. You-
Enough. I've had enough! You will not be the end of me. I am DONE, Thomas. We're over. I don't love you anymore.
You. Did this. To him. He smiles.
Ariadne and Arthur enter the warehouse. Arthur watches the young architect. She looks on the verge of a kind of breakdown. Like a teakettle ready to erupt.
"FUUUUHHCK." She kicks over one of three trashcans sitting next to her desk.
"FUCK THIS," she yells, her barely contained anger surging through her.
Her face is red. Her breathing, intense. Her expression, eerily non descript. Something's very wrong.
Arthur watches her, patiently. "This is what we do, Ari," he explains.
Moments pass.
"The extractions... inception. We're agents of a larger plan. We're soldiers. We do our job. We follow orders-"
"And we get dumped at the end of the mission with all our issues and no one to help us," her voice, full of venom.
"The life of a soldier," he concedes.
"The life of a goddamn soldier."
Ariadne paces in the space between her desk and the nearest lawn chair,
"What kind of life is this? You spend all your time escaping death, only to wish you were dead when all is said and done.
"You know what? Fuck this. Fuck inception. Fuck dream share. Just fuck it!" She forces. "I'd rather die!"
"You don't want that."
"Oh, so now you know what I want." If looks could kill.
"I know you don't want to die."
"Really? Because I'm not so sure anymore. People keep getting hurt or dying because of me." She pauses, "there's so much for everyone to lose."
"Ari, that's not your fault."
"'Fuck it's not! Cobb's got kids. Yusuf's got a wife. Zelda. Your Ex. I know she means something to you, Arthur. You could lose her because of me."
"I already lost her, long before you had anything to do with it."
A cloud hovers over Ariadne, darkening her expression. Arthur continues,
"Ari, everyone knew the risk coming in. We knew this would be hard."
"It's not hard. It's fucking impossible."
"And we're prepared for it."
"Are we? Because people are getting hurt, Arthur! All because I had to take some stupid job. I've got too many dead bodies on my conscience!"
"So do I."
"Yeah, but I'm not you, Arthur. I'm not a killing machine. I can't just shoot someone and keep going."
"You think it doesn't affect me? You think I LIKE killing people-?"
"When's the last time you thought twice before pulling the trigger?"
"I don-"
"On someone else. When's the last time you hesitated, before shoving a hollow point in someone's eye?"
"Ari."
"Answer the question."
"I don't know. A while."
Arthur tries to read Ariadne's thoughts. Her eyes reflect no light.
Fire burns beneath the silence.
Ariadne is sharp as a blade. Her serrated edges waiting eagerly to pierce his flesh, remove his heart.
"Arthur, I'm barely alive," she utters.
"You're just tired."
"No, I mean it."
"You've gotten 15 hours of sleep this whole week."
"Arthur, just-"
"Ariadne-"
"No! I MEAN it." The architect stands behind her desk. She looks ready to kill - someone, anyone - him. She glances at a soup can full of pencils on her desk. "I only feel something when I'm in pain."
She runs her delicate finger along the can's sharp edge. She looks at him, "I'm fucking dead already, Arthur." She knocks the can of pencils off her desk. CRACK! Arthur just barely contains his surprise. The tin crashes to the floor, metal on concrete, the clatter lingers in the echoing warehouse. Pencils roll. Red with fury and breathing heavily, Ariadne turns away from the can, leaning over her desk.
"-The fuck is wrong with me?"
Ariadne turns to sit against the edge of her desk. She stares into space once more. On purpose, Ariadne bangs her forearm against the edge of her desk. Totems be damned.
BMMF.
BMMF.
BMMF.
The sound is hypnotic. She'll break that arm, if I don'-"
She stops. Ariadne looks at Arthur. Her eyes are cold, icy. The point man expected tears. There are none. "What's wrong with me?" She asks, emotionless.
The point man strides over to the architect. He wraps his arms around her, from behind, as if to shield her from herself. Ariadne fights his hold. "Get off me," she snarls.
"No. It's gonna be okay, Ari. We'll get through this."
"Get off me!" Ariadne screams. She struggles against the strong arms holding her in. "Fuck you!" She kicks the air. The point man falls back against her desk, still holding Ariadne.
"You don't mean that. You're just upset."
"No," she bends down, forcing Arthur to lift her weight, "I mean it. I MEAN IT! Get the fuck off me!" Her voice breaks in a demonic scream, a primal cry of misery. "Fuck you! Fuck all of you!"
"It's okay, Ari. Everything's going to be okay."
"No, it's not! Nothing is okay," she scratches at Arthur's hands and arms, beating them with her fists and kicking the air. They fall tothe floor. On his feet, Arthur grabs her once more and carries her flailing body over to the desk.
"Calm down, Ari."
"No! Let me go. I need to go! You'd be better off if I wasn't here."
"No, Ari. That's not true." Arthur contemplates what to do. What comes to mind is either too violent or potentially life threatening. He'll have to reason with her. Ariadne's head flies backward into Arthur's nose.
Stars.
Ariadne screams, using all her force to claw the point man's arms away from her.
"Ari, Ari! Listen. Just, LIST-EN to me! Please"
"No!" She screams. She beats at his arms. He will not let her go. Arthur fights to pin down Ariadne's arms. She growls and groans, fighting to free herself. Arthur won't let go.
Ariadne screams. An animalistic scream. Desperate wails escape from the wild half-human writhing in Arthur's arms. Anguish. Sorrow. Guilt. Tearing through her body, bursting through her lungs, crashing through the warehouse.
Ariadne fights the point man, her struggle bearing less ferocity. Arthur leans against her desk, Ariadne continues to push at his arms. "You're going to be okay, Ari," he soothes, saddened and fearful for the small woman in his arms.
"Fuck you, Arthur. Fuck you."
"I know."
Ariadne cries a loud tearless cry. Inhale. Pained, beastly sounds escape from deep within the architect.
She shudders, ready for collapse. All attempts to resist the point man stop as Ariadne's body fights itself, struggling to breathe. Arthur pulls her tighter into him. The point man's warmth, like a beacon, anchors her to a reality she has left. Ariadne is only vaguely aware of Arthur's closeness, of the mint on his breath, of his cheek pressed warmly against her ear, of his form wrapped lovingly around her ravaged body, like a blanket. Ariadne is crippled by her anguish. Broken. Arthur steadies his breathing. Ariadne lets her own fall in sync with his. She continues to shudder and shake in Arthur's embrace.
Minutes pass.
Arthur maintains his steady breathing, keeping pace for the two of them. Ariadne drifts into a heavy dreamless sleep. Her face fixed in a tortured expression.
Arthur carries the broken woman over to a lawn chair. He lays her body down to rest. Arthur sits on the floor next to her. His bruised and bloody arms swell with pain.
The pain slowly engulfs him.
Just outside the warehouse, Dom stands in front of a window. He has seen everything. Thinking it safe to enter, the extractor opens the heavy warehouse door.
At the sound of metal gears turning, Arthur jumps to his feet, sliding down his shirt sleeves.
Arthur babbles, "Oh, uh, did Zelda forget something?" he chuckles dryly.
Nonchalantly, Arthur strides over to his desk to take a seat.
"Don't pretend, Arthur. I saw enough."
Feeling exposed, the point man tries to save face. "She's just tired. She hasn't slept well."
"She's suicidal," Dom explains sadly. But Arthur already knew that.
They say nothing.
Sitting in his chair, Arthur puts his elbows on the desk, his head cradled in his hands. Dom sees the spots of blood on Arthur's sleeve. They grow larger and more crimson. His fingers bleed. Drops of blood slide down the back of his hand.
"She tore the hell out of your arms," Dom observes.
"I know."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"And say what?" Arthur snaps.
"Anything." Dom pauses, "Are you okay?"
Arthur growls into his hands, "Do I look okay?" He looks angrily at the extractor. Behind Arthur's eyes, Dom sees a mix of heavy emotions, to which Arthur will never willingly admit. The point man buries his face in his hands.
The silence is loud. Arthur breathes deeply as he fights to remain calm. Dom watches the rise and fall of his shoulders.
"She'll be okay," Dom reassures.
"Not if she kills herself," Arthur spits. He sits up, turning to look at Dom. Arthur leaves a smear of blood behind on his desk. "We're fighting for a life she doesn't even want." Broken. Dom sees Arthur. He is almost broken.
"She wants to live. She just needs help remembering." Dom pulls up a chair next to Arthur. He sits, "Don't give up Arthur. She loves you."
"She doesn't even love herself."
Dom nods, "strange how that works, isn't it? She'll pull through. We all will."
Arthur turns back to his desk, rifling through papers. Dom takes this as his cue to leave. He gets up, walking to his work station. Just as he sits down, Arthur demands one more thing of him,
"Tell me something."
"What?"
"Is it all worth it? Was it worth it for the kids? For Mal? Was it all worth it?"
Dom resists the urge to shut down. The pain of the past few years is still strong. But this is Arthur. His best friend. He's hurting, a fact he will never admit to, and now is not the time to be selfish.
"Yes. Everything. It's all worth it."
Arthur locks this knowledge deep within himself. He repeats the phrase in his mind. Repetition, a soothing balm, numbing ooze, dulling the pain of many unseen wounds.
Arthur looks over at Ariadne, who remains asleep in the lawn chair. Her face, still bearing a mangled and tortured expression.
A/N: For anyone wondering why Dom reappeared, my tought was that he was returning to get something for Eames. That was left at his desk. The car is parked just outside.
I hope you all recover from this chapter. If anyone has taken offence to the sensitive topic written about in this chapter. I apologize for offending you, but believe me, I did not write this lightly.
There's tons more I've got stored up - much lighter fare - that I know you'll enjoy.
Rate. Review.
-R&Rf