~Dear Readers: School, unfortunately, is becoming more difficult as the weeks wear on. 4 or 5 more weeks till finals are done and over-so, the point is that this is the last chapter I will post until summer. Or after finals-whichever comes first. Sorry! Any ideas for the coming chapters? I have a plot going but I'm certainly willing to work some ideas in there! Reviews please-the more reviews the more ideas and/or inspiration I have to see Rappeler to the very end. Love you all!-MsArtemis~
Part 15: Rip-Tide
Rip-tide: a stretch of turbulent water in a river or the sea causing a chain reaction in which one current flows into or across another current.
It was four days after Ariadne had snapped out of Limbo; four days since Lacey had stayed overnight at the Architect's apartment. Today, during the entire time Cobb had been present at the warehouse, Ariadne had stood in her architect office enclosure, taming cardboard with a knife and a vision for the first level of the Hernandez assignment. She'd been that way since she'd memorized that folder backwards and forwards four days ago; and frankly, everyone was concerned about her. Arthur had already tried to reason with her twice-the first time she had snarled that if he didn't want to get the job done he should just admit it. The second time he'd attempted to reach out and gently put the hand with the miniature dagger down but she'd cringed away from him, whimpering aloud. This generally surprised everyone watching (for sound carried in the warehouse) and the crushed look that had skirted over Arthur's face wasn't lost on anyone.
The whole place was practically dead, the tension held up by a string as various snipping and curses could be heard from where their Architect lay. Enough was enough. Standing up, his movements as degenerate as an old man's, Cobb headed over to Ariadne. He could feel the pairs of eyes trailing his path, the string of tension stretching behind his back as he stepped into the Architect's enclosure.
Ariadne lay bent over her cardboard, her knife raised in one hand and muttering to herself. Her hair was swept into a messy bun, several pieces falling out haphazardly as she worked. She wore a filmy plain white shirt and with her empty hand she fiddled with a flamboyant golden scarf. Over the shirt lay a tan leather jacket that covered up her arms completely-catching sight of the long sleeves he felt his hands tighten-why hadn't he noticed that she was wearing long sleeves more and more? Shaking her head she wiped a hand on her dark jeans, turning away and to a sketch that lay on a nearby desk.
"That's not right-ugh. How can it be the same setting, it doesn't make any sense-"
"Ariadne?" The Architect's head shot up as if she'd been stabbed in the back, her gaze meeting the Extractor's like a cornered animal. Seeing that it was him, she calmed down slightly-the fear in her caramel eyes faded away and was left with a blank wall that he hadn't seen before. The stiffness didn't leave her shoulders as she demanded: "Yes? I'm almost done, now-"she tried looking down at the model again instead of meeting his eyes in a way he found disturbing. She was acting as if she was being hunted-what was she afraid of?
"I'm almost done! I swear-"
"ARIADNE." His tone demanded her attention and she raised her eyes once more-this time he saw the dark circles below them, as if she hadn't slept in days. Like he said, enough was enough.
"You need a break, now." She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off with an explanation: "Rushing won't help and it'll lead to mistakes that might get us killed." He cast a glance over her stark-rave appearance and then thought it the best to add: "I'll take you home."
Before they had left, Cobb had ordered the whole team to go home early. Seeing Cobb and Ariadne exit the building together threw the whole team under a cloud of suspicion but no questions were asked out of fear that the day be called on again.
"Are you going to tell me now?"
Cobb's thoughts were brushed aside; with a sudden reality-check he found himself in Ariadne's bedroom. He'd never been it before and he found himself wanting to get out; the walls reminded him of skeletons, so blank were they-he wanted to run away and never look back.
"Tell you what?"
"We talked about discussing what happened after Inception." Her expectant gaze did not coax a response out of him; turning away she sighed, tearing off her scarf and allowing it to drift onto the black sheets. "Yes…" His eyes traced her actions, wondering where she was going with this as she placed two champagne glasses and a bottle of vodka on the bed.
She sat down next to the strip of gold and the crystal, meeting his eyes. Her gaze was open; it spoke tales of pain she wanted to let go, things she needed to speak of.
Gingerly he sat at her side, trying his best not to touch the poisonous alcohol and the vanilla smelling scarf. Fending off the deadly aroma he emptied out all thoughts, trying to keep a clear head as he spoke up.
"What was….Limbo, for you?" The words were gradual, as if he was attempting to not lose footing on a rocky slope. Taking in air she glanced down at her tangled hands, which lay helpless in her lap.
"I'd end up in different places in this one city I just must have pulled out by instinct…I always forgot why I was there. And then he'd come along, Arthur's projection."
Cobb nodded sympathetically, his heart thrumming away in his throat.
"He would seem so right, so normal-he'd lead me away and make some excuse to get us alone, with me always cornered." She took an unsteady breath, her fingers making knots, a sheet of her hair blocking her face from view. "I always seemed to forget that he'd kill me at the end. I always remembered when he did something…un-Arthurish. And by then it was too late, Cobb. Too late." Her voice was destitute, like one who is merely a witness to a crime and can state nothing but the facts.
Cobb's reflex was to comfort her with what he knew: "Like I told you when that dream first collapsed, it's just your projection of him, just how you perceive him. You can change that."
It was then that he noticed her shoulders visibly shaking, as if she was freezing to death. Taking matters into his own hands he snatched up the vodka, popping off the top and pouring her a champagne glass full. Pushing the glass in front of her downcast eyes he watched her study it before wrapping her fingers around its slim neck.
"Just drink some, it'll stop the shaking." He reassured, cautiously withdrawing his hand from the glass only to watch her just nod shyly in his direction and not even glance at him.
Ill equipped to deal with this strange, vulnerable side of Ariadne he put the bottle down, giving himself a healthy glass beforehand. Taking his first sip he began praying to have the strength to not feel this way about her; to not feel as if he should pull her into his side, and tell her everything she wanted to hear while breathing in her heady scent.
The troubling thoughts had directed his gaze to the bland bedroom door; he felt her eyes unconsciously burning into his side in a way that was not aiding his cause in letting Arthur have her. Cursing mentally he downed the rest of the drink in one gulp, ignoring the feeling of her now incredulous eyes.
"Have you called home recently?"
Lowering his empty glass with an unsteady hand Cobb didn't take his gaze away from the door. "No, I haven't-I will tomorrow."
"Why haven't you already?" Her questions, as always, were striking-they rarely made any pretense and shot straight home. Ariadne didn't beat around a bush unless she absolutely had to-that was for sure.
"Business has been busy."
"That's not an excuse and you know it." He dared to take a glance at her-her eyes were a familiar callous brown that didn't accept 'no' for an answer-it seemed to ignite something within him.
"That's all there is, Ariadne."
"You could have talked to your kids if you wanted to."
"That requires a certain amount of safety involved. You were shot by a stranger we can't identify and that makes things different."
"Different how? You still aren't sleeping well-"
"Neither are you-"
"And you're drinking abilities speak for themselves." He glanced down only to find that he was well his way into a third drink-he met her gaze with sea-salt eyes that leant more to sharp salt than warm waters. There was a brief pause-enough of a time for her to pour herself another drink rather calmly and sip it before speaking.
"Just tell me." Her words bore bone-weary compassion. "Please."
He scrutinized her for three sustained seconds-she finished off her glass, not taking her eyes off him-before his gaze met the wood of the door and he gave a tart nod.
"Because I've been having nightmares. About Mal and me."
The feeling of exposure was not pleasant-it was if he had shed his skin and had laid his stitched up heart before her. He couldn't bear to face her and take in her reaction-he heard no other indicators of apprehension or irritation so he moved on.
"Nothing like her projection-I just keep forgetting things. Little things about her, little pieces of memory…I'm not sure I want to forget her yet." The words ran out of his mouth leisurely but he could feel his chest constricting, his hands turning into fists. The wood below his polished shoes comforted him more than meeting her gaze would; it would hurt too much to battle those all-knowing caramel eyes and have her know that Mal, even in the tiniest sense, was still calling the shots.
"Getting over her is natural, Cobb." Ariadne reassured-he could hear her knock back another glass , the vodka creating a gritty sound effect on the back of her throat. Despite everything he found himself interested to see how she handled alcohol because regardless of any efforts she had made to prove herself a capable adult, he still found her innocent.
Finally looking over he was surprised to see she had swallowed without a wince, her eyes snapping open with refreshed vigor. It was when she began lowering the ravished piece of crystal that he caught sight of her arm, where the sleeve of her jacket had fallen backward. The sight caused dismay to fill his chest, its raven wings knocking any other emotion out of the way as she turned to him and he met her with fathomless sapphire eyes.
The words tumbled out: "Take that off."
Ariadne snorted into her glass ungracefully, batting her eyes, dumfounded: "Excuse me…?"
Cobb was already beginning to get drunk-his 3 glasses made it easier to speak, made the world's edges downy and safe. He knew she was must be on her way to being wasted as well-for when he reached over and pulled the jacket off she allowed it to slip off and onto the bedspread wordlessly. Fingers tripping across her skin, he tugged her wrists with a slight pressure; she understood, pulling her arms together so that the elbows were exposed to the glow of the singular light bulb that hung above them. Garish puncture wounds and upraised veins ran rampid across the cream of her skin, indicating her unhealthy sedative use.
The sight wanted to make him weep: for himself, because he shouldn't be getting over Mal; he shouldn't want this young thing next to him. For her, because she couldn't stop dreaming; because she was beginning to fear things in reality and it wouldn't be long before she began jumping at shadows and calling people the wrong name…but worst of all, she was turning into him.
And he couldn't allow that to happen.
Her arms slid out of his grasp as her hand raced for another glass. "I can't stop dreaming Cobb. Y'know, when Lacey stayed over the other day she noticed it too. Once she got everything about Arthur off her chest-"
"She talked about her and Arthur?"
Ariadne belted out a raucous laugh, bringing the rim of her glass to her lips before meeting his eyes. Oh, she was most definitely getting drunk…they should stop…
"Of course. About how he's great in bed and how she misses him and wants me to stop 'tempting' him or whatever the hell…" She sipped, not breaking eye contact with the Extractor as she trampled on. "I don't know what she's talking about. Arthur isn't…I mean, he told her we were just co-workers…" Cobb's heart was aching for her-and then he registered what she said. His fury bubbled up too fast-somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he was drunk, and that this was somewhat over exaggerated-but at the same time it felt so real.
"He did what?"
"Told her that we were just co-workers." The remainder of her drink disappeared behind her sentence, its biting taste pressing the next sentence out. "I know I'm not the prettiest or experienced or whatever he sees in her-" Her thumbs twiddled in her lap and she stared down at them, her tiny feet dangling off the ground.
"That's not it." The fever in his words rammed away her remaining babble; she blinked three times, flustered.
"What?"
Slamming his eyelids down he gulped, hard, breathing in through his nose in a desperate attempt to stop his thought process but all he swallowed was vanilla scented perfume. Frustrated, his eyes flashed open once again, caramel pools so desperately near his own as he spoke.
"Any man can see your attractive Ariadne, Arthur included. And I've worked with him for awhile and I've never seen him this stupid."
"Stupid why?"
He didn't answer.
"Cobb-"suddenly she was yanking on his face, turning it towards her so that they were eye to eye. "Why is he being stupid?"
Cobb sincerely tried not to breathe, tried to not feel the silk of her white shirt brushing his arm, tried to silence the heart that was marching away inside of him. He was attempting to meet her eyes, to meet her fire with incinerated ice…but really, he was nothing but ash anymore ;ash that was so easily blown away in the wind…He was openly staring at her now, and she was staring back, the only sound their breathing. For a moment he wondered at why people say they fall into another's gaze-for he'd fallen to his death in countless dreams before and this wasn't falling- it was a rip-tide; something uncontrollably more dangerous because you didn't have a choice-you could choose to trip or fall but there are no decisions when it comes to rip-tides. You are pulled under and before you know it…you're drowning. And that is when, with liquid courage racing through his veins, he leant forward and let their lips touch.
He could taste the cool air whistling in as she gasped in surprise, as he let the gentleness of his touch fade and fully pressed his mouth down on her own. She didn't resist, allowing her lips to meld with his-and that was when the door to Ariadne's bedroom opened.
Cobb pulled away quickly; head swirling and full of vodka-he only had a few seconds to see the visitor. As the room took form he saw Arthur, standing in the doorway, expression unreadable- in the next second the Point-Man was stalking toward Cobb, dark eyes burning.
There was little warning as Arthur's fist met Cobb's face, sending the whole room into a swirling reverie the Extractor could only describe as rip-tide.
~How was that? Tell me! Did you hate it? I promise that this is leading up to the plot and will be the only physical thing Cobb and Ariadne will ever share together….you gotta trust me, I'm all for A+A; this isn't a Cobb and Ariadne story, promise. 3 A+A~