2.
Ariadne dressed quickly in their closet. The door was closed. Her mind racing over what had just happened in the past few hours. They had enjoyed a blissful evening. A small meal, early retirement to bed. A joyful round of fooling around, followed by a bath together. Why had Arthur chosen to spoil it? Why had he persisted so hard for an answer?
She applied a fair amount of barrier cream between her thighs and folds. Already red and chafed from their frantic activity just an hour before. Her freshly waxed sex responded headily to her own touch. Never in her life had she felt more alive between her legs then when she was waxed. Her lover knowing exactly how to use her. How to turn her into a cranial animal.
She slipped on a pretty, feminine night gown. One that covered her easily but still showed a sexy side. Like most of her night clothes. Arthur had picked it out.
Arthur's taste.
She emerged from the closet and could still hear him in the bathroom. He had considerately changed the bedding before their bath, and she happily dove into the fresh smelling, high thread count, sheets.
Ariadne felt almost childlike as she hid under the covers. Cocooned in their warmth and safety.
She could hear the Point Man emerge from the bathroom. Hear him turn off the lights. His precise careful feet on the floor. Feel the mattress sag as he sat down on his side of the bed. Hear him sigh.
"You want to sleep?" He asked softly. His body stretched out easily next to hers. She wondered if he would wrap his arms around her. If she would want him to.
"It's past midnight." She whispered back. "I'm a little tired." She admitted, her head poking out of the covers. Her back to him.
"I want to talk about this." He said resiliently. "I asked you to marry me, I want an answer. Yes or no."
"I don't have to answer it." She said softly. "You proposed while I was naked and underneath you. Not exactly the kind of thing you want to tell the grand kids about."
She was not sure where she had found her courage to say it. Everything with Arthur had always been so easy, it had made her almost compliant.
"I can fix that." Arthur floundered.
"It's not just the proposal... Arthur..." She searched again for what was causing her trepidations. What was behind the flights of butterflies in her stomach.
"What?" He asked. His voice stern. A tone he never used on her.
"We have only been together for six months now. Were already living together. I think that's enough for now." She told him.
"Enough for now." He repeated. "Do you still love me?" He asked
"That's not the issue."
"Yes it is!" He almost shouted, freeing himself from their bed. She rose out of the warm nest of coverings to look at him. This man before her; so handsome, so perfect. A flash anger was on his face.
"If we love each other there is no reason not to get married." He argued. "Look, if you want a fancy proposal with fireworks and whatever, then I can make that happen." His voice seeming to wind down from his flared temper.
She looked down at her hands and resolved to tell him the truth.
"Just because I said yes in your dreams doesn't mean I'm ready to be your wife in the waking world. It doesn't mean I'm ready to devote my life to babies and kids." She shot back. Her own temper boiling up.
"I never said we had to start having babies right away." He said sharply.
"Arthur, you bought a huge house with the intent of filling it up with children." She said angrily. "You want me to give up everything to stay at home and be just another mom. While you and the boys go off and have your work in dream extractions? No thank you." She sighed deeply. Her chest felt like it was a balloon. That the air was slowly being let out. That she was deflating.
"That is not true." He said finally. "If we had children they would be our children..." He tried to argue.
"Just stop." She said raising her hands to her face. Her fingers lacing in her hair.
"Do you not want to have babies?" He asked finally. His face looking hurt.
She said nothing. Her face unchanged.
"Ariadne, if you don't want to have kids, that's something we need to talk about." He said calmly.
"I think we've talked enough about it." She said coldly.
As if possessed, she left her warm bed. Her feet hitting the cold wooden floors.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"I'm going to stay at Sadie's." She said going to their closet.
"Now?" He asked. "It's almost one in the morning."
"She'll be awake. I know her." Ariadne said not looking over her shoulder.
"Ariadne." Arthur called back as she quickly pulled clothes on over her night gown. "Your going to walk the streets of Paris at this time of night?"
"I'll call for a cab." She told him. Her voice quivering.
"No, don't." He said. "I'll go. I'll stay with Eames or Cobb. You stay here."
"This is your place." she countered slipping on her shoes and grabbing her bag.
"This is our place." He retorted.
She said nothing to this as she left him standing in their bedroom. She was fully dressed, he was only in pajama bottoms. She won the fight over who would leave.
"I'll call you when I get there." She offered without looking back. "Let you know I'm alright."
~ A cab arrived promptly to her call from the lobby. She didn't bother to phone Sadie that she was coming. She knew Sadie would still be awake. She knew her friend would welcome her and be a shoulder to lean on.
The polite cab driver tried to engage her in conversation but the Architect kept her answers brief and curt.
~ Ariadne had rented out her old apartment to Sadie and found the return to the building very comforting. Like she was coming home. The walk up the stairs to her floor found her hearing strange music coming from her old apartment. She briefly paused in wonder at it before ringing the bell. She heard some one cursing loudly and feet stomping. The music shutting off.
The door flew open and Eames was shouting.
"Call the cops again Mate, and I'll-" His sentence cut off at seeing the Architect.
For the longest time they stared at one another. Their faces mirror images of shock. Carefully maintaining eye contact. Afraid of looking anywhere else.
Ariadne, her hair messed up. Street clothes pulled hurriedly over sleep clothes. Eames, naked as the day he was born.