Big thank you to Lazarus76, cinematherapy, and xx99soccerz
Chapter 13: The Act
"It's great... Yeah; we extracted today. No, no, I'm on my way home. It went perfect…. You? Wow, well I'm sure you enjoy being home for a while. The weather in Mombasa is impeccable this time of year…She's doing better. Not as many nightmares so I believe she's pulling through. Ariadne is a firecracker. I have. We'll see. I will, I will. You'll be one of the first to receive an invitation. I want you to be a groomsman as well-if you wouldn't mind. Yes, I think Miles is going to walk her down the aisle, or well- that's what we'd discussed a while back. Yes, thank you for calling and checking on our girl. I appreciate it. Same. Take care, Yusuf."
xxxxxx
He was getting a drink from the fridge when she'd emerged from the downstairs bathroom. Surprised, she hid her cell phone behind her back. "Well you're home early…how'd the extraction go?"
"Perfect. Smooth." He brought his drink to his lips and sifted through the mail. He gestured to her with the bill in his hand, "Who called?"
She looked at her phone like she hadn't noticed she was holding it, "Ea—eh-Yusuf!"
Arthur's sifting halted. After two blinks, he began tearing open one of the envelopes, his voice sounding normal, "Is he doing well?"
"Yup. He, uh, said something about a new job. He's in, uh, Brazil right now."
He hummed. Tossing the bill to the side and flipping through the new Architecture magazine she subscribed to. "The weather in Brazil is impeccable this time of year…" He swallowed the condescension he knew was seeping into his demeanor and tried to turn the moment positive. She joined him in filtering through the mail..."What's this?" Arthur held out am 8x10 manila envelope addressed to her from none other than Mr. Eames.
Her eyebrows shot up and she took the folder from him. What she pulled out, was a thin little booklet with a post it on top that read. "To Tiny. Occupy that brain with thoughts other than how handsome I am, yeah? –E." She chuckled and rolled her eyes as she peeled the note off to get a better view of the booklet.
Arthur narrowed his eyes while he read (or tried to) the scribble of the man's handwriting. Shameless flirt. He heard the soft intake of her breath and turned to look at the content of the envelope. "What is it?"
"It's a maze activity book!" Her smile roamed the pages. "Eames said it might be helpful if I submerged my thoughts in something positive. Keep my mind from wandering and help control my thoughts."
He looked over her shoulder into the book. Page after were page were intricate mazes that would surely challenge even her sharp mind. He felt some bitterness, "I hardly think Eames is a certified psychologist."
"Well it could keep me from boring myself to death, if nothing else…" She chided back at his remark (not at all pleased with his pessimism), grabbed a pen out of his shirt pocket and took her booklet to the couch.
xxxxxx
"I've got a new job." Arthur pulled down the sheets on his side and climbed in next to her. He'd been downstairs in the kitchen on a conference call since after dinner. (Leftovers…) Ariadne was reading about Queen Victoria on her e-book.
She let a breath out and offered a tight lipped attempt at a smile, "Yeah?" The couple hadn't really spoken since she opened her mail from Eames. Arthur was touchy about the forger, it was reasonable she keep all she could about her encounters with him from Arthur. (If his reaction to the booklet had been any indication.)
"We start in the morning." Arthur smiled at her and fluffed his pillow.
The girl bookmarked her spot and closed her e-book, gently sitting it on her nightstand. "Arthur—"
The Point Man twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, "You said you would do the next one with me."
Ariadne sighed and picked at her nails to avoid the eyes she knew were losing their luster with disappointment, "If I was better…"
"You seem better."
She scoffed, "Because you're not home half the day."
Arthur took her chin and guided her to look at him, "Hey, I don't have to do this job. I can quit and stay home to help you."
She took his hand off her chin, "No, you need to work."
"I don't have to do anything…we don't need financial support. You are more important to me than dream sharing. If you need me here, that's where I'm going to be. Always. I'll just call Benedict and—"He picked up the phone on his nightstand.
"You need to work because…sometimes, you make it worse."
"Oh." He presses the end button and hooks the phone back in the charger.
Ariadne exhaled slowly and kept going, "You don't mean to, I know. And it's not your fault…it's just…aftermath." After his silence, she confessed, "I do miss it. The right side of my brain itches for it constantly. I pine after dream sharing and creation and a world where I can control my dreams again."
He turned his head, a boyish look in his eyes. The one you see in those little boys who want nothing more than to help but don't know how. Like James wanting nothing more than to put a band aid on Philippa in hopes it would make it all better. He almost whined like a younger boy too. A foolish little boy who thought that if you believed something to be true long and hard enough, it would be true. "You just need more practice. Maybe if you were in the dreams more, you could learn how to control them, you could get a grasp on handling them and making them go away…"
And you wouldn't need Eames anymore. And you'd be mine again.
"It doesn't work like that Arthur." It was like they'd switched places. Switched brains. Ariadne had morphed into the one who stayed logical. No nonsense. This is the way it is. Arthur took the whimsical view. The hopeful, I'll try anything view. The 'anything is worth a shot' view because isn't that why they're together now? He took a shot? "Ask Cobb..."
"I miss you…" Arthur unloaded. He rested his forehead on her shoulder. He did miss her. He missed the fiery Parisian from the warehouse. The one who told off Cobb and had the courage to call Arthur a coward. The Ariadne who used to sneak special looks at him on jobs. The Ariadne he'd come home to, who threw her arms around him and kissed him dizzy and brushed his arm with her bunny slippers as she wrapped her legs around his waist. The Ariadne he'd proposed to, who cried and laughed and said I love you a million times just by looking him in the eyes. The one he knew. He felt her forehead rest on top of his head in turn.
"I miss you, too." She did miss him. Missed being able to tell him everything, without his feathers ruffling too easily. Missed being able to sleep in his arms a whole night without waking from nightmares about him. Missed going on jobs and adventures with him. Missed the relationship that was slowly crumbling.
Both were powerless to stop it. Both had monsters eating away at them in their heads. Both had parasites sucking on and warping their perception of each other.
Arthur raised his head to kiss her. It wasn't long before she reciprocated and their kisses went deeper. Her hands were groping at his face and neck to bring him closer. Missing the passion they'd had before this incident. Arthur rolled on top of her, breathing 'I love you's' all the way. She began running her hands through his hair, disheveling it. He ran his hands down her thighs and betwe
"Arthur, stop." She lightly pushed his chest.
He was panting heavily, "What's wrong?"
She started shaking her head, "I'm not ready for this." She had flashes of her telling him she was pregnant, of bringing home sonograms, of picking out cribs, of wallowing in blood, of depression and embarrassment and angst and-God, he needed to get off of her. "I can't do this again—I can't—" She sat up against the headboard.
Hastily and without comprehending what was going on, he returned to his spot and leant against the headboard as well…"Ok." She'd just…she'd never pushed him away before. Normally, she initiated it or encouraged him. Not that he was upset he wasn't getting any, he wasn't that type of man….And she had plainly said she wasn't ready. She'd been through a lot. That's understandable. He couldn't begin to fully imagine being the one to carry and then lose a—
"I'm sorry…I know it's been a while, but—"
"No, Ari, our relationship is more than physical. I'll wait as long as you need me to." He kissed the top of her head, turned his lamp off and settled into bed.
xxxxxx
"Honey, I'm home!" He mocked in a sing-song voice. She came downstairs in a nice outfit and his dimples couldn't keep themselves from caving. He set his briefcase on the counter and unlatched it. "The meeting was brief today, so I've had ample time to put this together." Ariadne approached warily, peeked over his shoulder. Inside was ginormous wrapped package. Silver stripes with a giant red bow. He set it before her with a flourish, "Open it."
Ariadne ripped the paper back in shreds to reveal two, nice, leather bound drawing pads, the covers red and embossed. One large and one average size. A box of graphite pencils, a box of colored pencils, a box of oil pastels and a set of inks. Another little box tied with a white bow held a set consisting of a ruler, a protractor and a compass. The Point Man watched in delight as her awestruck eyes took everything in. She was beaming, running her hands along the paper, opening the boxes and looking at the colors. "Arthur…" she breathed.
"Now, you don't have to miss it. Don't worry about using it up too fast either, I have another order waiting to be filled when you need it." He was ecstatic that she could barely tear her eyes off of her present to look at him. That she was too thrilled and speechless to thank him. That she stuttered when she brought herself to do so. It only made him more excited to present her with the next package. "I'm not done, yet." Her eyes were incredulous. "Open this one." He set another bulging package in front of her.
She pulled this one apart faster and rougher. And sitting there waiting for her was a thick book on M.C. Escher's Paradoxes. How to draw them, how to decipher them…Ariadne smiled at her fiancé and moved the book to look at the one under it. She gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth. She removed her hands to speak but then covered her mouth back up. She tried again, "How did—"
"I saw the tab open on your computer a couple nights ago."
The girl practically caressed the cover of the book, "Where did you even get it? It doesn't come out for a couple months!" She ran her thumb along the title: Les Dix-sept Merveilles de L'architecture or The Seventeen Wonders of Architecture. A book put together by three of France's infamous Architects comprised of the seventeen most magnificent structures to date for different countries. It included blueprints, pictures, how the structures came to be and more. She'd been eagerly awaiting its release for months and it wasn't scheduled to be released for another two or three.
"I may have pulled some strings for you," He watched as she gently pulled back the cover.
"Oh my God! You got it signed too?" He simply winked at her. She read the script: "Ariadne, ne cessez jamais de croquis. Ours est l'art des anges. –Christian de Portzamparc."
The other,"Pour ma college artiste, le dessin est de rever les yeux ouverts. Bonne chance a vous, -Edouard Francois."
The last, "Mademoiselle Ariadne, Vous etes travail est magnifique. Aspirent a de grandes choses. Vous pouves etre un iour dans un livre comme celui-ci. Sincerement, Jean Nouvel."
Ariadne tackled him.
"You like it?" He laughed.
"Is that even a question?" She placed a sloppy wet kiss on his mouth, "Why on earth are you so good to me?"
He kissed her, over the moon that she was so pleased, "Is that even a question?"
xxxxxx
They were going to go out to dinner. Ariadne was supposed to be freshening up. She was distraught when she came down the stairs. Frazzled, panicking and an evident need to GET OUT of there. She slung her bag over her shoulder and shrugged her coat on, "I'm so sorry, Arthur, I completely forgot. It's Clarisse's birthday today and I'm supposed to meet the girls for dinner in ten minutes and I haven't even gotten her a freakin present." She looked at her watch and grabbed her keys.
"Oh, ok," She was already halfway out the door when he called, "I might go out…anyways..." He looked to the counter and saw that she'd left her cell phone. He knew by the time he trudged out to catch her she'd be speeding off anyway so he left it. He called his new team and was informed they were all meeting for drinks, if he'd like to come get acquainted and lounge he was invited to do so. Ariadne had her night with the girls, he might as well have a night with the guys. Since she'd left her phone, he'd called Clarisse.
"Salut?"
"Clari, C'est Arthur."
"Oh! Bonsoir." She quickly changed to English so they could communicate easier, "Can I help you?"
"Yeah, is Ari there?"
"Mmm, not at the moment, no."
"Well when she gets there, will you tell her I've gone for drinks with the guys from my firm? And not to worry or wait up if she gets back before me?" He decided to add in the reason for this favor, "She left her cell at home."
"Oui, I suppose."
"Merci." And with his gentlemanly manners he bid her farewell only after he'd wished her, "Joyeux Anniversaire, Clarisse."
The French woman on the line faltered for a second, obviously confused, "Merci, but It is not my birthday."
"Well is it Edith or Annie's? Ari said she was meeting up with the girls for a birthday dinner."
Clarisse chuckled, "Not one I was invited to, then. Or Annie…she's with me. Little Ethan's anniversaire is in a few days and I'm helping her plan. Maybe, Ari was just confused?"
"Oui…nevermind then. Thank you anyways, Clari. Prende soin."
xxxxxx
Her phone was in his hands. He was staring at it and tapping his foot on the ground, trying to think of a new combination of numbers she might use for her password. He'd tried her birthday, her parents anniversary, their anniversary, the day he proposed, the day she graduated, the day she moved to Paris.
Ah. The day we met. The day she met Cobb.
Shit. The date we executed Inception?
Spectacular.
He looked into her calendar. Nothing was scheduled for months…but then again, he should've known that. She wasn't one for planning ahead, Arthur was the one that did that. He was the one that bought and hung the calendar in the kitchen and the one that penciled in all the important dates/appointments/bill due dates and etc. She barely touched the thing; Arthur didn't even think she looked at it except to see which picture was revealed at the beginning of each month. He bought her a planner back when they first started dating. He found them helpful and thus thought she might appreciate one for school as well. Ariadne doodled in it. Bridges, towers, skyscrapers, underwater cities and empires on the moon. He saw his name in various types of letters (cursive, bubble) on a few pages throughout when he'd curiously flipped through it once. It made it worth it. June 9th would forever be "Arthur" in 3-D and the month of December was Sand Castles in the deserts of Egypt.
He could've checked alerts but…if she wouldn't write in the calendar that was a lost cause as well. Nothing in notes except an old grocery list for the market and an old, unrevised guest list for their wedding. He snickered that the first line in that note read "Not my Aunt Marion. And Lilly (her snobby cousin, who lived in Florida and rubbed her superiority in Ariadne's face her whole life) can suck it."
Texts. There were a few from Edith asking questions about what brand of canvas was the cheapest and begging her for the recipe to Grandma Bourgeois' Agneau au Four. Ariadne had asked Annie for present ideas for Ethan and the woman replied four texts worth of a list. Earlier in the afternoon she had texted Ari back and forth, joking about the mailman. (Annie was a 'between man' for a few major clothing companies in France and a couple boutiques in Paris. She would order in products in bulk from other countries and send them from her house to her mother companies. Therefore the mail man came to her door nearly every day with packages. Apparently he has an undying and unrequited love for Annie and she'll text the Architect the funny little things he does for her, even though she's married with a kid.) Clarisse hadn't texted Ari in a month, she preferred to call and hear a voice instead. Arthur scrolled back up. Miles had texted in his inexperienced, short way and asked how she was doing, said he missed her and hoped she was taking good care of herself. Ariadne responded sweetly. Then at the very top was a message she had forgotten to delete.
"Gout de la Liberte. 7pm or nothing, Tiny. –E "
"Coming as fast as I can get out of here. Thanks. -Ari"
xxxxxx
Arthur has a death grip on the wheel while he speeds through the roadways and searches for this Taste of Freedom place…poor fucking choice of words. He came up on a strip of shoppes and found it on the right. The Point Man skillfully parked their car in an inconspicuous place and walked to the desired location. Gout de la Liberte had windows lining the storefront; it was easy for him to see inside and pinpoint her table. Back left corner of the restaurant. She was sitting with Eames. Both had wine, they were smiling, having a good time…It looked like a dinner between two friends because Arthur was sure that's what it was.
Then the forger put his hand on Ariadne's. Arthur could see him mouth the word 'love.'
Arthur didn't even know how he got back to their flat.
xxxxxx
Translation 1- Ariadne, never stop sketching. Ours is the art of angels. –Christian de Portzamparc.
Trans 2-To my fellow artist, drawing is dreaming with our eyes open. Good luck to you. –Edouard Francois.
Trans 3- Miss Ariadne, You're work is magnificent. Aspire for great things. You may one day be in a book such as this. Sincerely, Jean Nouvel.
Trans 4- "Prende soin." = Take care.
Trans 5- Gout de la Liberte= Taste of Freedom (a restaurant)