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Part 10: Imbalance

It had been an hour and 45 minutes since Cobb and Ariadne had left for Ariadne's apartment.

And Arthur thought he was going to be sick.

"God, Arthur never knew you'd have such a big place. Where the hell do I put my stuff?"

Lacey, in all her finery and with suitcases at her feet, stood in the open door of Arthur's lavish temporary home. He had rented it from a friend who was spending several months away-he was supposed to take good care of it and he planned to keep it that way. However, at the moment, he lacked the energy to reprimand Lacey for scuffing the marble flooring with her bags.

"Upstairs, first bedroom on the left." He muttered. Lacey threw a disgusted glance in his direction, taking in his weather beaten appearance. He couldn't even fathom what she saw-God knows he was good at covering up everything. But she could seemingly get a picture from his stance; at the moment he was sitting, having stolen a stool from the kitchen. He was also bent over, head in both hands, black shoe-d feet on the floor-the posture of a weakened man. He could feel the little color in his face as his stomach rolled, as he wearily looked up and met her eyes-the previous disgust was gone, now replaced with some softer shade of turquoise.

"Thank you, Arthur, for this. I'm sorry I'm such a bother."

His stomach clenched-because for one moment he'd thought she would've had seen something past herself, maybe cared about the reason he was this way. But no, everything came around and back to her like some freakish boomerang. But, that was Lacey. And he couldn't help but pity her despite it all. Straightening up he brushed down his outfit, reaching his feet. "It's not any trouble. Just set an alarm-we're heading to the ware-house at one."

Lacey briefly faked hurt: "Is an alarm really necessary for me, Arthur?" She placed a hand over her heart, her smile glowing. He had been walking the hallway to the kitchen when he heard her, pausing and turning around just to flash a tired smile.

"For you? Yes."

She interpreted the banter as a step forward in a parade of steps backward; he took it as further evidence to why they went wrong and soon found himself amid the darker memories of their past relationship.

With Lacey upstairs the house was a deadly silent he could not push away, so he continued on his way down the hall. The kitchen yielded temporary relief; it was modern and sleek, the appliances shining with a tin glow. There were stools rather than chairs at the long dinner table-he found the idea tacky though the owner thought of it as modern. At the far corner of the oven his hand found the whiskey he usually replaced with red wine-he swore that he would pay his friend back as slim fingers unscrewed the cap, found a glass…it was when the golden liquid was pouring seamlessly into the shot glass that his pocket buzzed. A quick glance at the clock over the oven- his stomach flipped as he registered: an hour and fifty five minutes. He set the bottle down gently, the glass clinking against the marble crisply. With a kind of tragic grace he slipped the Blackberry out, allowing it to flip face-up. COBB flashed across the screen-for a moment he had the illogical feeling of just slamming his thumb on the end button; he overcame it.

Having accepted it he found a text that left little else to be said:

I think you should come talk to her right now. Be gentle.

The wood of her door seemed serrated as he rapped twice, pulling his hand back tersely to his side. Over two hours now, they'd been alone together-alone. He allowed himself to inhale, the air whistling through his teeth. He didn't have long to wait-the door opened to reveal two navy eyes gleaming in the shadows of the apartment.

"You came."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Just thought you might be researching the mark."

Arthur was temporarily taken aback-that was exactly what he would have been doing if he wasn't worrying…why had Cobb noticed before him? He nodded instead of speaking-Cobb grinned softly, stepping out of the way in order for Arthur to pass him and into the apartment.

The whole place was in darkness-but Arthur soon saw the open crack of the bedroom door, the silvery light that spanned away from it…

"She's been through a lot-I'll expect you to take care of her." At the command Arthur looked over his shoulder-Cobb was in the hallway, his hand on the doorknob, eyes tight. Arthur nodded, vaguely wondering what she could have said that would have Cobb's concern riled up this way. In a moment Cobb was gone, the door swinging shut on his retreating footsteps…Arthur made his way to her room.

As he approached the crack in the door he was aware of slight sniffling, the sound of a pencil scritching over parchment… "Ariadne?" he called.

The pencil came to a stop: "Come in."

With a deep breath that trailed all the way down to his Italian shoes he stepped inside, making sure to leave the door open a crack as he looked around.

Her bed was still the only feature to the room, minus the one light bulb that hung from the ceiling. It radiated watery light, casting the whole room into a mix of grays and pitch blacks. The white sheets (which had previously contained drips of scarlet) had been discarded-all that lay there now was a plain white mattress on a wooden frame. The white pillows were still intact, considering that they had not been spattered with gore…he reached into his pocket, gripping the red die in a tight fist. She seemed irately casual, sitting cross legged, sketchpad in hand. As his eyes flew to the drawing he caught sight of angry, lead streaks before it slammed shut. Combing a wavy strand of hair behind her ear she took a deep breath, brushing down her red pajama bottoms and white T-shirt twice.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, raising one eyebrow at her unusual unkempt appearance. He couldn't seem to fathom why he was called here-it seemed beyond him-It was infuriating. Did she want to talk about her…and Cobb? Oh, God, please not that.

She seemed to shake herself awake-pushing the sketchpad and pencil aside she began to reach her feet, apologizing.

"Sorry you have to see me like this Arthur, I-Cobb just felt that we should, I don't-"

Something snapped inside his chest-before she could fully reach her feet he spoke.

"You can sit, Ariadne its fine by me."

"Alright…"She met his eyes with a quizzical expression before sitting back down, her legs hanging off the edge of the mattress.

Sensing the awkwardness he, as professionally as he could, sat next to her, the mattress sagging slightly under his weight and crinkling his suit. "Cobb said that we should what?"

His voice was lower, though he hadn't intended it to be that way-he saw out of the corner of his eye her muscles tightening-a nervous reaction…but to what? To him sitting next to her?

They had sat next to each other at the bench in the second level of the Inception job…did that make her uncomfortable? Remembering their kiss? His overanalyzing was brought to a quick halt as she began to speak.

"He said that we should talk."

He tried to think rationally, in the lines: "About what?"

Did she want to know about her near death? Did she want to know how the tears had come, despite all his efforts to stop them? Did she want to know how he had cut her open, sewed her back up while she had laid so still…because he wanted to tell her. For some sick reason he wanted to put it all out on the table; randomly he wondered if this is what Eames felt like every time he gambled. But of course, that wasn't the case.

"About why the dream collapsed. How it collapsed, really because there's not much explanation for it…" She took a shaky breath, her fingers combing back a strand of long hair up and over her forehead. He watched the action with hard eyes-what was this getting too, what was making her act like this…?

"What happened? Whatever it is its most likely fixable." He reassured, noticing her hands in her lap, gripped together, palm to palm as if she was trying desperately to keep still.

She turned towards him, her caramel eyes wide and harsh as she stated:

"You shot me, Arthur." The utter honesty of the words shocked him-the prickling fury he saw in her eyes made sense in a way that made his stomach turn to stone.

"That's not possible."

"Yes it is. You exited the group with Lacey, Cobb told me, and then you just find me somehow and threaten me, pull the gun out on me…I mean, how could you-"

Her voice was rising to hysteria and he suddenly found himself scrambling. Her words seemed to have knocked him back several feet, all sense of his careening out the window.

"I didn't, Ariad-"

"Then explain!" She was full on glaring at him now, her words so raw that he opened up, despite everything.

"Lacey and I argued in that hallway the whole time!" Ariadne blinked, her glare broken by his surprise answer.

He lowered his voice; looking away from her his eyes met the blank wall on the other side.

"She's dramatic sometimes and I didn't want…her drama to be thrown at you in the way she was doing it. She's used to being the center of attention but I told her that harming you in any fashion wouldn't get her anything." He allowed himself to pause, the only sound in the room the Architect's breathing; he didn't dare meet her eyes as he moved on.

"She was very persistent, saying that I was attempting to control her like I apparently used to, back when we…were together."

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes the color serious-did she know? But she just nodded, adding: "I knew that."

He accepted the fact with little surprise, like how Eames couldn't keep his mouth shut for the entire world, and then met gazes with the wall once more.

"She kept insisting that I had to stop using her…and you."

"Me? Lacey defended me?" Arthur, paused, keeping his eyes focused on the wall. Letting his defenses down, even in the slightest manner, was extremely difficult for him. His pause made her repeat the question.

He relented. "Not exactly. You see she thinks-"

For once he met her eyes, trying to control his racing heart as her eyes peered into his own.

"That you and I…"

"Have something?" She finished.

"Yes. Exactly." He gasped, forever grateful for her response alone.

Her eyes were dangerous-they kept studying his face relentlessly, as if searching for any new developments.

"And I told her that she was mistaken, that anything that she must have seen was merely a slightly friendly work relationship and nothing more." His stomach was something heavier than stone at the moment-ice, maybe?-sinking as his words continued to stream out. Ariadne's face fell at his statement-she turned away very quickly, a sheet of hair hiding her from view. Arthur saw it all wrong-even though his heart was aching and his stomach falling he leapt at the chance to comfort her.

"I'll apologize for her behavior. I know she would too, if she were here, because she knows she behaved awfully…she just doesn't know when to stop-" He caught himself, ending the sentence abruptly there, but Ariadne heard it.

"When to stop what?" She murmured, her head still away from him.

"It's nothing." He didn't want to tell her this, he just didn't. It was personal.

"It's not nothing, Arthur, just tell me."

He sighed loudly before responding. "She won't stop trying to get me back. To get us back."

There was a long pause in which Ariadne stared at her feet, which hung off the floor by at least 3 inches. She kept her gaze on them as they lazily swung back and forth, a restrained yet nervous gesture.

"How serious were you two?"

Arthur cursed himself mentally-he swore he turned into Eames more everyday, never keeping his own mouth shut. But Ariadne was the only person he ever wanted to be completely honest to-and he wasn't going to attempt to hide it.

"Serious enough that we moved in together. For a brief amount of time we were living in an apartment in Venice."

"How long had you two been together when you moved in?" Arthur noted how careful she was not to say Arthur and Lacey. He also noted how her voice kept getting softer with each question-she was almost whispering now. His answers sounded booming in comparison.

"A year. We broke up 3 months after moving in…I left the apartment." He glanced at the floor, recalling that night very vividly.

"You always have to be in control don't you? You always have to know what's right, what's wrong, how everything is. When are you going to get out of your box, Arthur?"

"I'm done." He murmured. She stared on in disbelief, her ginger hair lying rumpled across the shoulder straps of her nightgown. "What did you say?" His hands were already whisking away his suits, his ties, his shoes, his toiletries…

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Arthur-"

"I'm leaving, Lacey. I'm absolutely done." His statement was cold-he made it especially biting as he met her eyes. "I'm sick of you."

"Oh really-" He bent down in order to continue packing, zipping up his bag as if she had never spoken. "Oh really?" she screeched after him as he passed through their kitchen, heading for the front door. She stalked him relentlessly, picking up a piece of the china set they had bought together on the way out. Without another thought she flung it at his head-he heard the sharp sound of its travel and ducked just in time for it to hit the door. He turned towards her incredulously, a few feet away from where the plate shards now lay. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she screamed, her turquoise eyes not unlike tsunami waves. His silence seemed to make it worse; her screams grew in progression.

"There is something seriously wrong with you- I know what it is-MY life hasn't been as exciting as yours. I didn't have to deal with MY mom dying and leaving behind a piss-poor excuse of a father so I'm just not experienced enough, I'm too OPEN-"

Arthur was beyond furious, his face a deathly pallor as he glared at her, his hands fists."THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT! What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"YOU ARE, ARTHUR! You are the most closed off, prim-proper person I have ever met."

"That's funny because last night you certainly didn't seem to think so-"

"You think that was something, Arthur? I've had better from-"

"Oh, from who? Absolutely no one Lacey because no one puts up with YOUR shit like I do. Absolutely no one."

The memory didn't get to run its course-Ariadne slammed the rest of it away with her next question, locking it in a box like it was supposed to be.

"So she still has feelings for you?"

"I would assume so-but you can never be sure with her. She likes to play games."

And, surprise of all surprises, Ariadne laughed. Giggled really, turning her head to face him (finally) saying:

"I could've guessed that. She and Eames are a lot alike. Is that why you and Eames don't get along? Because you and Lacey didn't get along?"

Arthur smiled at her, appreciating the subject change as well as the pleasure he found in her smile. "No, me and Eames were sworn enemies as soon as we met. He made some crack about parents and I-" It was at this point, that Arthur realized he had gone too deep. His grin fell flat, his eyes emptying as he backtracked. "I didn't respond well to it."

She noted his changing faces with sympathy, her voice silky as she asked:

"If it's okay, could you tell me how you two met? And about your parents?"

He met her open eyes with caution, trying to tell her that he couldn't silently-but she seemed to want an answer.

"Maybe later."

He already regretted saying it; he regretted it more seconds later when she responded.

"You will have to tell me later you know. I'm never going to let you get away with not telling me."

He was smiling-he hadn't smiled like this in so long his face literally ached-how did she do this to him?

"Really? And how would you make me?"

She raised her eyebrows at him, her mouth popping open in mock surprise.

"I have my ways Mr. Arthur." She wiggled her eyebrows while glancing up from underneath her eyelashes-she didn't know what stuff like that did to him. In fact, she probably didn't want to know…

"Really? Because I don't break under torture easy." He joked, his hands holding him up on either side of him in an easygoing manner.

"Well then maybe you've finally met your match." She played back, smiling coyly up at him. "Maybe I'll finally be the one to break you."

The words had his mouth drying up, his heart skipping on pause-yet he couldn't find himself to deny the truth in them.

"Maybe." He relented, looking away again. "But I'm pretty good."

A grin snuck across his face as she play shoved him-something she had never done before, but found himself enjoying immensely because it had no effect on him.

She shoved his arm again-his grin grew wider as he stared at the wall, unmoving.

"Hmm…" she murmured, leaning back into her place sulkily, crossing her arms across her chest- "We'll see."

His smile was wide but she couldn't get himself to look at her just yet-the words were still fading in his ears as he looked down and caught sight of the time on his watch.

"It's getting late…" he murmured, noting that it was past midnight.

He finally looked at her, just in time to see her happy expression snap and shift into one of dull surprise.

"Oh. Well, then-"

He found himself reaching his feet reluctantly-she followed suit, sliding off the bed in order for her feet to reach the ground. Standing up she faced him, brushing her hair behind an ear.

"We didn't really do what Cobb wanted us too…" Her eyes went the ground and Arthur's stomach sank again as he recalled those two precious hours he had missed.

"Save that for tomorrow then. You need your sleep-you're still recovering after all." Her head snapped up, her golden gaze meeting his once more. As he recalled her injury his eyes flashed to her torso, where it lay-she had one arm wrapped unconsciously around it and his heart ached in the adorableness of the action.

"In fact, I should probably check it soon. Just to see if it needs further care." The words seemed proper to him but the light dusting of fuchsia in her cheeks proved otherwise. He resisted the urge to grin at her reaction, but politely acted as if she hadn't blushed.

"I'm not a doctor but, I'm second best. At least I like to think."

"Let's do that." She agreed heartily-he couldn't help the way his heart went to his throat at her jovial response. But it was time to leave-so with that he nodded curtly.

"Goodnight Miss Ariadne." He allowed a smile to slip out with his words.

She smiled up at him, nodding awkwardly back.

"Goodnight Mr. Arthur."

Arthur didn't stop smiling until his head hit the pillow that night, his Blackberry right beside him in case a certain Architect needed anything.