Part 13- The Evanescence of Arthur
evanescence: knowledge of a person, place, or feeling fading away and gradually vanishing from sight
They were window-shopping, Grandma Isle and her. Ariadne smiled at the vibrant scarves, but Grandma's reflected scowl begged to differ. "What's wrong, Grandma?" Grandma Isle was wearing a grey frock and thick leather boots. "You never told me you had a fiancé." The grandmother claimed-Ariadne opened her mouth to question but upon turning found Arthur beside her.
"You must be mistaken, Ms..?"
His face was calm, his hand lingering on the small of Ariadne's back.
"Isle. Mrs. Isle"
"Mrs. Isle we are only dating." That ticked something off in the back of Ariadne's head but his comforting hand implied otherwise.
"I'm this child's grandmother." Isle informed.
"Ah, now I see where she gets off being so pretty." He smiled charmingly, Grandma Isle allowing only a small grimace of faint approval in return as Ariadne's cheeks heated up. "But Ariadne and I must be getting elsewhere…pleasure meeting you." Grandma nodded once before thumping off into the distance. Ariadne, stunned: "Where are we going?"
"Just follow me" An alley, covered in slime, grooves scoured upon the bricks as if someone had been dragged out on their stomach… "Where are we Arthur?" He told her it was just a private place to ask questions unnoticed; she tried to turn heel and walk out, but he grabbed her wrists roughly. His eyes were hopping embers as he began shooting out questions. "How long have you known Dominic Cobb?"
Fear was a vice; it shut down control and let chaos reign.
"A couple of months maybe…just let me go, please, please…" His grip slacked off; she broke away, running back to the cityscape only to see it had been erased and replaced with a deep, dark pool of water at the entrance to the alley. She backed up-he continued talking as she tried to stay away from the pool, but he was suddenly behind her.
"Why is she drawn to you? Why is everyone drawn to you?"
"Who-" She's cut off as Arthur grabs her hair and brings her to the knees, bending her over so that she can see her own reflection in the pond. This wasn't Arthur. Gunshots, tight scarves, screaming, tears, blood, and coal black eyes seem to rush to her head as she remembers what this is, and what's about to happen. She tries kicking him with her feet but he just steps on her legs with a crushing force, pulling her arms behind her with his free hand. The other hand is pushing her face near the water as her eyes tear up at sight of the bottomless depths-and all of a sudden another woman flashes across the ripples of water.
The curly, rich brown bob and indigo eyes pin Arthur down; Ariadne can feel his grip loosen a bit, his breathing picking up loudly. "Mal?" he whispers.
"Thad." The Shade hisses-and just like that the apparition is gone, and Arthur is swearing while dunking Ariadne under and she's choking on bubbles and praying to die…
Ariadne had woken up 3 times during the whole 24 hours she was out. The 3rd and final time had been a tremendous struggle-she startled awake only to find herself in her bland bedroom alone, freshly bandaged and on new sheets. Running over the past events in her mind she could only remember arriving at the warehouse with what seemed ages ago.
"You're awake."
Ariadne started, gripping her sheets and pulling them over herself instinctively as Arthur watched her from the doorway. His maroon button-up and black slacks brought out the ebony shine in his slicked back hair as well as highlight assorted places on his lean body . His eyes were a modest chocolate, and to her surprise, stubble shadowed his sculpted jaw and cheekbones. His normally alert posture now bordered on sleep-depravation and hesitancy; she half wondered why before she was overrun by images: him, sitting at her bedside with wild hair and an undone tie…coal-black eyes… "Ah, now I see how she gets off being so pretty…", an alley with groove marks imbedded in the stone… Needless to say, Ariadne shivered-the movement didn't get past Arthur's gaze and she experienced the brief , knowing crease of his brow before it smoothed itself out again. Disoriented she allowed her regenerating curiosity to burst forth after hours of being asleep.
"What happened?" She was unabashedly goggling at the man in her doorway, the images continuing to pile up behind her eyelids. He stared back, as if in shock of her existence-her stomach twisted viciously as everything came back in a rush. Arthur-killing her multiple times after throwing questions at her like darts…Arthur whispering 'Mal' like a lover; Mal, alive and shining beneath the inky surface of the water…What if this was another dream-one where they didn't reappear in the city where she trusted him-but rather in the empty haven that was her apartment?
Because as far as she knew, Arthur was clean-shaven and always had something to say-and right now he was just watching her, just watching…Air hooked on to the walls of her throat as her hand slipped into her jeans pocket, her breathing hard and fast; Arthur's gaze shifted from unreadable to concerned in a matter of seconds and he took a quick step in her direction: "Ari-" Her eyes turned on him with crackling bitterness; "Stay away from me!" she warned, her fingers still fumbling until she produced a single object. Arthur froze in his footsteps, watching as she placed the bishop on the wooden chair that lay at her bedside. Breath catching she hit the top of the piece with a finger-it connected solidly, the object bit the wood in a harsh cough and she breathed a sigh of relief. This was reality; the hefty weight that the golden Bishop owned couldn't be recreated in any dream space.
"This is real." Arthur's voice seemed to yank at her heart viciously, demanding hatred as well as trust. Meeting his eyes she found relief-they were a reserved chocolate, not the coal-black of her dreams. "You were in Limbo." He continued. The relief faded into short, unprecedented shock."What?"
"You volunteered to be the first trial run, Ariadne. Limbo was expected. We made sure you were informed of all this before you went under-are you sure you don't remember?" Her blank face answered for him. "This will make it difficult…we might have to drop the job…"
"No!" Ariadne's interjection stopped Arthur's musings and his gaze flashed to hers as she continued. Refusing to let the heat in her cheeks turn into a blush pile-up she attempted to explain herself as logically as possible. Because God knows Arthur enjoyed logic. "We need to do this job. This man hired us to save him. And we need to go through with that because we made a promise. This…Andres, is counting on us. We can't just drop it before we've even started." Her speech finally out Arthur raised his eyebrows incredulously.
"For someone who works illegally you have rather high ideals." And that was all that was said on the subject.
An hour or so later Ariadne found herself at the warehouse; overnight it seemed the teams' doubts had been brought to light.
"Earlier today I didn't remember anything-but an hour ago I began getting bits and pieces. It was an unpleasant memory about Grandma Isle, I'm sure now. I just can't seem to recall it at all."
Cobb's navy eyes were raging with concern that attempted calm, blank composure-he still didn't believe it was safe. Ariadne stared back at the Extractor, her gaze leaning toward imploring-because she damn well wanted to work again and the whole team be damned if she almost had a stroke. It didn't matter; she needed to dream. Yusuf voiced his medical interest by Ariadne's side:
"And you are fine? No problems breathing? You haven't passed out since you officially woke up, have you?"
"No, Yusuf." Ariadne's eyes slipped shut and she leaned back in her lawn chair, arms in lap as she pushed away the inconsolable burn of her left wrist. "Passing out indicates that the mind is giving its all to hold onto the memory-the stronger the memory, the more likely the subject is to be in a coma." Yusuf reminded.
"Sounds like a bloody success to me." Eames muttered from his lawn-chair corner, fingers twirling a ball-point pen in nonsensical circles: "She doesn't remember anything so the mission was a success, obviously."
"You'd be surprised the things that go on after you lose a memory." Ariadne's eyelids flew upward as Lacey's voice snaked through the lawn-chair circle. The Forger stood to the far left of Eames, her violet ruffled dress almost completely doused in shadow. Eames' pen came to a halt mid-flip as he assessed Lacey with laughing eyes: "Luve, you're going to have to tell us about how you learned this sometime. I, for one, would love to know about your dirty adventures in said other lands. Maybe Arthur would too, if he-"Lacey smirked down at Eames in affection, arms crossed over her voluptuous chest as Arthur let out a warning 'Eames' from Yusuf's side. Eames rolled his eyes: "Bloody hell, Arthur. I was just messing around, no need to get a stick up your ass." Ariadne grinned wryly as Arthur glared at the Forger, as Eames turned on the Point-man. "How did you manage to walk out your door with that stubble anyway? Isn't there some Point-Man alarm inside your head that tells you to remain boring? Not that I'm objecting to this new rumpus look of yours, but staying by Ariadne's side all night seems to be taking its toll on you. Maybe next time we can make a party of it. I'm sure Ariadne would feel mighty better when she sees what her precious Arthur is like when he has some vodka in him."
"Hopefully not as idiotic as you are on a regular basis." Arthur retorted.
"Don't flatter yourself, darling-by far you're worse."
"We've wasted enough time." Cobb's voice carried over every head in the warehouse, the syllables weaving a clock into the picture. Scanning the assembled he spoke softer, as if the previous tone had been too harsh. "We have a job that's due in a month. Arthur will take it from here." His posture morphing into relaxation, Cobb slid back in his seat as Arthur stepped into the center of the circle. In his arms he carried several, thick manila folders. Multi-colored tabs stood out from the tops and sides, multiple paper edges eagerly poking their ways out of the melee.He lapped the inside of the circle, depositing the according packets on each team members lap. He left Ariadne with hers last-his eyes, darker in the low lighting, met hers briefly; she shivered, recalling the hungry marks he'd left on her neck in Limbo shortly before choking her to death... He retreated to the center of attention too fast to catch how she recoiled from his hands and tugged the folder to her chest. His back to the group, Arthur strode toward the marker board, coming to a stop before its presence and allowing his professional tone overwhelm them all: "This is all you need to know about Andres Hernandez. Let's have a quick overview-turn to the opening page and we'll start from there..."
Andres Hernandez. No Middle Name. Born on September 19 in Cuba, had always lived in Cuba. 44th birthday coming up. (See page 29 for Birthday Gala...)
There were only a few pictures of the Mark; in one photo he was stepping out of a frightening, no doubt outrageously priced Viper-in another he sat in an office setting, scratching numbers down upon a yellowed piece of paper. He was of darker skin, having spent almost all of his life in the sun and his eyes were a rheumy jet black that sent her reeling back to her short time in Limbo. His face consisted of dead black curls, thin lips, and a strong, square jaw. Bent over the paper his expression seemed one of intent marred by an overpowering anxiety that made her want to comfort him.
"He's dangerous you know." Ariadne's head snapped up, her vision suddenly filled with Cobb leaning against her desk, staring down on her, arms crossed.
"I'm aware. Page 38 listed his contacts."
Cobb nodded, his attention redirected at the same time her eyes were drawn back to the glossy photos. Ariadne's lip began moving numbly with the repetition of the words, each fact hitting sharply off her tongue with the bitter taste of business.
"CEO and founder of Armistice Corp., which was a million dollar weapons business until his drug dealers found his weak spot. They started creating crazy price tags for every brick of weed…His wife is Carina Blackwell, a Spanish model whom he met on a business trip. There are rumors that he abuses her as his marijuana withdrawal becomes too much…" Quickly she flipped through the packets, searching for confirmation to her words-she missed Cobb's chuckle at her urge to impress. Finding that what she had said aloud lay within page 24 she nodded, continuing on courageously. "His closest friend and confidante is an assassin. His name is-" She pulled up blank-gaping down at the packet as if it had personally offended her she began frantically scouring every page for said confidante's identity. Cobb's chuckle was loud enough this time that Ariadne glanced up, meeting his eyes with an irritable crooked smile. "What's so funny?"
Her ill-tempered tone did nothing to drain the remaining laughter in his eyes, and that's what she liked about him. So many people looked at her as if she was that one coconut filled chocolate in a heart-shaped box; unexpected and strange but they dealt with it anyway because they wanted chocolate. But not Cobb- a pang in her heart quickly slammed the happiness that had fled across her soul; a pang that reminded her of an Arthur whom, with what seemed like ages ago, had joked around with her while they sat on her bed. He hadn't looked at her stunned for once; he'd looked at her like she was the world.
But that was before Limbo.
And now he was as distant as if nothing had happened-and oh, that's right, every time she looked at him now she remembered distinct ways his freak projection had ended her life. Would she ever understand him? Would she ever know the real Arthur?
"You don't have to know everything." Cobb's voice shoved her back to reality, brought her heart beat into the game. It raced viciously as she looked up at the Extractor. Had he read her mind?
"But Arthur-"
"I know what Arthur said." Cobb peered down on her, his eyes a lofty blue, his lips sliding into a frown. "But he says those things because he's stressed."
Ariadne's heartbeat slowed tenuously, realizing that this was still about the case.
Not about the ever evanescent Arthur.
"Because of Eames teasing him? But that's just what he does. There was no need for Arthur to snap like that."
Cobb's eyes melted with an emotion that she could only take in as a cross between sorrow and sympathy before his words struck her: "Eames' jokes don't bother him. Arthur's worried about you, Ariadne."
Ariadne couldn't breathe-and then, in a flurry of air and the pressing scent of assorted flowers Lacey came out of the shadows, giggling flirtatiously as Eames pinched her ass for the hundredth time that day. "Eames stoppp!" She slapped his hand away and Eames met Ariadne's gaze over Lacey's shoulder, rolling his eyes jovially: "She wants it Ariadne."
"And you assume every woman wants to be pinched constantly?"
"It's true. You women just can't say what you want." The words hit Ariadne hard-Eames seemed to add insult to injury when he gave her a knowing wink before walking out the back-door of the ware-house.
Lacey struggled to breathe, her efforts in leading Eames on apparent before gasping out: "Ariadne-" This was the first time the Forger had first addressed her directly and Ariadne found herself startled, her eyelids fluttering momentarily.
"I know we haven't started out on the best of terms, so I think we should bond. Arthur thought it was a good idea-"
Cobb cut to the chase quickly, his face tight as if he had sucked on a lemon before speaking to the ginger goddess.
"What, Lacey?" The turquoise eyes flashed to him, then back to the Architect, her excitement nonplussed by Cobb's annoyance. "-that I stay overnight with you at your apartment." Ariadne paled, her muscles tightening as the Forger summed it up with: "It'll be fun! Like a girl's night!"
But all Ariadne could think of was Arthur said it would be a good idea and how she very well knew this wasn't a good idea at all. Had he planned all of this? Or was the Arthur from Limbo coming out of the real one, enjoying his sadistic torture and covering it up with pleasantries?
The architect slammed the manila folder shut with a taunt hand, meeting the turquoise eyes with masked sarcasm: "Sure, why not?"