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Chapter 8- The Hope of Empty Men

"Ariadne, you have to eat something, baby." She sat in their bed. She'd been mute for a couple days now and losing weight rapidly because she wouldn't partake of anything.

The day of her discovery, she wasn't hungry until dinner and wouldn't have mentioned it had Arthur not heard her stomach growl and insist he cook dinner for her. It was all of their favorite foods, prepared for comfort. He managed to pry her out of the bed to join him at the table. She picked through half of the meal and then threw it away in portions when she thought Arthur wasn't looking. The days after that: Thursday, Friday, Saturday, he let her roll around in the bed until lunch and then brought her a grilled cheese (or another sort of sandwich) and some fruit on a tray. She normally had one grape and nibbled at the crust. It got worse as the new week began. All she'd had on Tuesday was a few crackers because Arthur insisted. She finished the week out by pushing everything he put in front of her, away. Today, she wouldn't even acknowledge the existence of nutrition. He was getting worried, who wouldn't? It wasn't that she wasn't hungry…he could hear her stomach growl; she was just starving herself. Since she obviously wouldn't do it herself, Arthur dipped the spoon into the bowl and blew on the hot liquid, "I went out and got your Creamy Tomato soup..." his tone was hopeful, "You haven't had it in a while." She remained still.

"Just a little bit, Sweetie, just a sip…"He all but pleaded as he raised the spoon to her mouth and waited for her to grant entrance. The gates stayed shut. Dejected and aggravated he let the spoon drop back into the bowl and moved the tray to her nightstand for her to have later; he doubted she would touch it. "I just want you to get back to yourself," he admitted and leant down for a sweet peck. Ariadne did not return the kiss. In fact, she turned her head away from him when he tried. At least he knew she was still capable of hearing…

Miles had called innumerable times. Arthur always giddy when he did; the prospect of her reacting to someone, showing life. He'd take the phone in, gently push it in her hands or hold it to her ear. "It's Miles" he would say, expecting a smile for the old man or even a look of question or rejection from her. Anything. Wishing the old man had the power to make her speak so he could hear her melodious voice again. The bright, conversational one that soothed his soul. He was sick of only hearing her voice when she cried and yelled. The Architect wouldn't acknowledge the phone. Ariadne would stare ahead or look away like Arthur was holding out something stupid for her. As if she was saying, 'Why bring that in here? Waste of your time. Send in the clowns.' Once, Arthur held the phone to her ear. Maybe if she heard the love and concern in her beloved professor's voice she would be moved to at least grant Miles attention. The man on the other end had barely said, 'Hello Ariadne,' before she cowered and looked away. A look that made Arthur feel like he was being cruel to her, waving the phone around in her face.

She hadn't let him get close to her since she stumbled upon the shoebox. For the past week he'd had to sleep on the couch. It started with her pulling his arm off when he spooned her. Arthur kept his hands to himself but tried to sleep close anyway. The closer he got the farther away she moved; eventually, one night she put a pillow in between them. It got to the point where he would wake up in the morning and go downstairs to find her on the couch. Arthur compromised with her the next night, letting her have their room and taking up permanent residency on the couch himself. It was tough trying to sleep every night. Not only was the furniture not long enough for him but he always awoke stiffly; a crick in his neck one day, a crank in his back the next. He lied awake staring at the ceiling until his eyes fell closed. He woke at the slightest sound, fearing that leaving her alone up there wouldn't be in her best interest. Every movement and creak of the floor, he'd ask himself if he'd gotten rid of everything sharp again. He heard her screams and cries for the kids, Cobb and Eames. Heard the bed jostle around with her restlessness. Arthur wanted to go up and comfort her like before but she wouldn't let him. She'd always had the door closed. She got worse if he barged in. Sometimes he laid and listened, gripping the couch to keep him sane and in his place until she stopped. Sometimes he'd sit outside their bedroom door just in case maybe…maybe, she would call for him this time. Let him hold her and make everything better. She never did. All he was privy to was to look on her the three times a day he tried to shove food and water down her throat. Never rewarded with a glance or a smile for his patience.

He realized what she'd done when left hanging in the air, "Don't do this to me," his forehead dropped to meet her temple. "Don't shut me out like this. I love you more than my life and you're treating me like dirt." She never reacted.

Arthur pleaded, "You're the only person left that I care about. I can't lose you too…"

…

The Point Man chose to leave her alone. His feelings bruised though not for the first or last time. He stopped at the doorframe and turned back to face her, "Starving yourself isn't going to bring the baby back. It's not going to bring any of them back."

The architect showed a sign of life when her eyes found his for the first time in a week and half. Before he left the room he declared, "You're punishing yourself. And it's destroying me." He closed the door to the room he no longer shared with her and went downstairs.

xxxxxx

Ariadne wasn't angry with him. She was abashed, penitent, humiliated. Arthur had loved that baby so much. Arthur had been so eager to raise it with her, so eager for them to become parents and she'd let him down. She was mortified when he'd barged into their bathroom and found her wallowing in blood. All over her pants and her hands. She felt inadequate. She couldn't bare him a child; she couldn't even carry it to term. They went through all that trouble and heartache to save the unborn child and she wasn't able to sustain the baby's life. She never wanted Arthur to look at her stomach again; it was empty now, insignificant. His very touch made her uncomfortable. Any form of affection she felt unworthy of. No matter how slight and chaste, it reminded her of the night they conceived and was just further reminder that she was childless… And might never be able to give Arthur the baby he longed for. She was afraid to try for it again. She was afraid that their love (in any form) would lead to such a circumstance. So she blocked him out completely. Believing this to be a safe wall. What she didn't know and what she didn't (or pretended not) to feel wouldn't hurt her or him any further.

That was only part of the reason she'd rendered herself mute. The other was the inconsolable guilt she felt over just being alive. Living, breathing, eating…that was something Cobb and his kids no longer had the privilege to do. All because of her. Arthur couldn't kill her and the baby so he killed Cobb instead. And she was sure, so sure, by the way he was pointing his gun at the children that he might have killed them too. All because of her. If she hadn't pulled him in and fallen in love with him, she would've been just another team member. There was no way he would've killed Phillippa and James over one of his old Architects. She may not even have been pulled into it; Eames and Yusuf hadn't been. Fischer wanted to hurt the leaders of the team, the two to head the operation. Ariadne was a convenient incentive. She was leverage against Arthur and had that not been the case, he would've been unwavering and they'd all be alive. Why should she be happy?

Because Arthur wanted her to. Because Miles was having a hard enough time losing his whole family without worrying about her too. Because she shouldn't hurt any more people. Because were she dead and the other three living, she would be furious if they reacted in such a manner. Because these nightmares being bottled up inside were ripping her to shreds and she needed someone to piece her back together. Because battling the urge to eat was tiring and being sad was never something Ariadne was pro at. Because The Architect was a bubbly, fiery, motivated person and whoever this was in her bed, living with her Arthur was someone she didn't recognize. Because drowning in all of these thoughts mutilated her. Because she was a shell of the woman she wanted to be most.

How could she ever right this wrong? Take a step in the other direction?

xxxxxx

Arthur was brashly cleaning the dishes. He dumped the tomato soup out. She wouldn't consume it. Why would he even try such a stupid thing? Like different soup would magically fix her. Why did he even bother? Why does he bother?

Because he loves her more than life itself. Because she was a part of him now.

Rubbing his face, he decided to grab her laptop off of the coffee table and sit to sift through pictures. One of her in her usual attire, laughing, pushing Eames. One of the entire team pre-Inception execution. It was strange because she was two people away from him and it took him back to the time he didn't really know her. When they weren't as connected. It was nice all the same. One of her and her cousin at her cousin's wedding, peach bridesmaids dress. He'd attended that with her and vividly remembers being teased by Eames and Yusuf for not being able to look away all night. A picture of her and him that she'd taken in true college form, over their heads. Pictures tucked away that he didn't know she had. Pictures of them carefree and devoted. Candids that the team must of snuck when they reunited in LA for a couple days. Pictures of Arthur casually watching tv and Ariadne watching him. And the way she was looking at him, with so much reverence and adoration. The smile on her face meant just for him was enough to puncture his core. There was a folder of just Arthur. Pictures he'd smirked for her for or pictures he was oblivious to her taking. Some of him at his desk, some of him cooking. He closed her documents and saw her background for the first time. Right after he'd proposed…they'd eaten in the café and had a nice old French woman take the picture. Ariadne was grinning ear to ear and Arthur's closed smile forming dimples. His arms around her shoulders, hers around his waist, her ring clearly visible on his hip. The most precious thing about this picture was that she was looking up at him and Arthur down at her. In their own world. He remembered trying to smile at the camera but his eyes always gravitating back to hers and never wanting to leave them and that moment.

"Should we try taking a picture actually looking at the camera, Arthur?"

"An attempt might be futile…I only have eyes for you right now."

"Well, I'm not complaining." Her eyes shined up at him.

"Wow, its bright out here."

Ariadne giggled, "Must be my shiny new engagement ring?"

Arthur freed a hand to rub his rub across her ring finger, "Maybe your million watt smile." They kissed sweetly and then beamed at each other after they pulled away. They heard the click of the camera and saw a flash in their peripheral vision.

"Crap." She laughed, "We're not very good at this."

Sighing, Arthur closed the laptop and leaned back on the couch. He heard The Architect screech. Heard the nightstand toppling and resounding through the ceiling. Heard the sound of metal clanking and glass shattering. Heard Ariadne's voice beseeching, "Get off of me!"

Arthur was on his feet and flying up the stairs in an instant.

Xxxxxx

Sorry I know it's short! Please please review and I'll make the next chapter extra long to make up for it. =)