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Chapter 16: The Potency

He couldn't bring himself to move. He saw one single image replay over and over in front of his eyes once they drained every ounce of water in him: Ariadne getting out of her car and rushing to Eames' door. Ariadne crying hysterically and throwing herself into his arms when he answered. Eames' hand on the small of her back as he guided her inside. His fiancée was cheating on him. Ariadne was in love with someone else. Arthur had no memory of driving back to their flat. He vaguely remembered being visited by Claude (the extractor from his last completed job.) The man had come by to drop off Arthur's check in person and realized he was drunk off his feet. Arthur saw flashes of his former coworker dragging him to the bathtub to sober him up. Most of it was out of his system now, it was all out of the house…but the pain had paralyzed him. He couldn't talk to her, he couldn't look at her. He didn't know what would happen when she came home. He could only comprehend: Ariadne and Eames. Eames and Ariadne. Ariadne and Eames.

xxxxxx

The door to the warehouse creaked and Arthur's heart stopped. She was earlier than expected. He hadn't had time to go over his carefully thought out speech another time. He hid the notecards under his laptop, fiddled with files on his desk to hide the fact he was straightening his suit and then casually strode to her. "Someone's here early."

"I could say the same about you…" She called across the warehouse as she was shrugging her favorite red coat off.

He smoothed his hair while she was preoccupied and by the time she turned, he stood in front of her to greet her. "I'm always here this early."

"Touché."

"Miss me?" He hid his nervous energy well while he watched as she readjusted her scarf casually.

"Yes. It's been…what? A whole nine hours?" She kissed him sweetly after she teased. They allowed themselves to be couple-like when the rest of the team wasn't there. Before they began their work, on breaks, or after was time they felt it acceptable to sneak a few displays of affection. She seemed unsuspecting enough but her smile alone set his heart at an irregular pace just thinking of the moment to come. Hopefully, he'd see that smile again after he'd popped the big question.

"Well starting this weekend I won't have to go any hours without seeing you." He smiled and hugged her waist, "Looking forward to sharing living space with me?"

"I guess..." She sighed melodramatically. "I'm enjoying my last week of freedom though."

A pang of worriment entered his stomach. Doubt, fear, apprehension…all coursed through him. She wanted freedom. She didn't want to be tied down to him and only him. She was going to say no. She was going to say no. He'd have to be uber convincing; there was no turning back now… eventually she'd find that piece of jewelry. "Oh?" Was it getting hot in there? His tie felt a little tighter.

"Yeah," Ariadne shrugged her shoulders, "You know. Clubbing, meeting men at bars, relations with Eames…" He started to harden his face and clench his fists when he caught her smirk and the glimmer in her eyes. She was such a little—

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she adorably had to go on her tiptoes to hug him and nuzzle her face in his neck, kissing it once, "I'm joking!" She kissed his jaw, " I can't wait, Arthur. I've been counting down the minutes."

This eased his nerves. Gave him a little optimism, a little more confidence. He kissed her cheek and released her from his embrace, "Me too. Now, off to work with you." He gave her a love pat to send her off.

She mocked him sprightly and saluted the Point Man, "Yes sir."

He held his breath, he was all too aware of it too. He felt that the slightest movement of air through his lungs might ruin this moment. Might somehow change her mind.

Ariadne had not remembered putting a huge white sheet over her models last night…then again she was more than exhausted, who knows what she might have done. She dumped her sling bag on the floor by the leg of the table and pulled her hair to the side, rolled up her sleeves. She went to look at her watch and realized she'd forgotten to put it on this morning. The girl retrieved her bag again to check her phone for the time and pulled her watch out.

She couldn't put that watch on any slower. The suspense was killing Arthur. She needed to look under the damn sheet. Every second that passed was a ton of anxiety weighing into his being. He swallowed like it would get rid of the stress. His palms were getting clammy. He had to loosen his tie; it was constricting his airways.

Finally, prep time was over and she threw her bag back down on the floor. Carefully, so as not to damage her models, she pulled the white sheet off of the table. Initially, all she felt was confusion. Her desk was so…organized. Arthur had been there. Her models were lined across the back of the desk and sprinkled with rose petals that she hadn't recalled putting there. A model she hadn't seen in forever, The Fischer Hotel, was placed in the middle. A red thumbtack pinpointed where their first kiss had been and a single full rose lay in front of it. Her notepad was closed and placed on the side, with #2 pencils neatly sharpened and lined across on top of it. On the end of the lineup of pencils was a colored one. Red. White ribbon tied in an immaculate bow around it and in the middle of the bow…a ring. Thin, princess cut, a beautiful dark blue stone was set in middle, and small diamonds on either side tapered to the back. She held her breath, picked up the pencil and slid it off…on closer look, the inner part of the ring was engraved. Tiny words read, "Il n'ya rien comme vous et moi," or, "There's nothing quite like you and I." A reference to one of their first conversations. One that was about creations and dreams. Over their time together, through the months of trying to separate themselves and detach their feelings, that conversation had been reworked plenty of times. The words, "I tried not to come…" had been used dry. They would always give in and meet each other again because, "There's nothing quite like it," "There's nothing quite like you," "There's nothing quite like love," and "There's nothing quite like us."

Ariadne hadn't moved. He hadn't spotted a turn of her head, couldn't tell if she was even breathing. He licked his lips with what saliva he could gather. His mouth was dry. Had she seen it? She had to have seen it. His optimism plummeted. It's too much. She wanted to say no. Why else wouldn't she turn for him? He tensed. Movement.

Her heart was thumping out of order; it almost hurt. Still shell-shocked and bewildered, she turned to call to him for help in explaining things, "Arthur?" She saw no one at his desk across the warehouse and then sensed something below. He was on one knee just in front of her. Her breath hitched. She grabbed her heart like he'd given her a heart attack, her eyes grew in size and she had to lean against the desk to keep her legs from giving out. All of the signs pointed to this being a proposal, "Arthur…"

"Just hear me out."

She nodded, absentmindedly biting her lip. She was transfixed by the sight of him on one knee in front of her. She looked at him like one of the seven wonders of the world.

He tried to remember the arrangement of words on the notecards he was studying earlier, "When I first saw yo—No that's not it. When we met, I—uh. Shit. The way I-" He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think. Oh, damn the notecards. His mind was mush. He shook his head, removed his jacket, opened his eyes, and gazed into hers. "I'm not used to being nervous."

"I could never make you nervous." She half laughed though the humor was lost in her bewilderment. This was just as nerve wracking for her as it was for Arthur.

He chuckled, "You'd be surprised." He swallowed and gained his composure back. Years of practicing a calm demeanor had to count for something. "Ariadne…I don't know the exact moment it happened. I just know I've been in love with you for so long. When you walked in with Cobb that day, I knew. I knew there was nothing—there was no one quite like you. I just thought that the admiration and respect would be the extent of my feelings. I wonder every second we're together, how miserable my life would be if I'd never kissed you in that dream. If I'd refused to participate in Inception like I wanted to. I can't fathom it. Growing up, you're not exactly what I pictured my dream girl to be…but you're better. You're real, you're…Ariadne." Her name rolled off his tongue like silk with the reverence and obeisance to rival the Pope. Arthur's eyes had begun watering and he took her hand, "Nine hours is a devastatingly long time to be away from you. I just-I love you so much and without you I'm worth nothing. I'm broken, I'm incomplete…"

"Arthur…" she breathed.

"You've stolen much more than secrets from competing companies…You've stolen my thoughts, my self control, my kisses and my heart… I want you to have my name too. Sharing dreams aren't enough, I want to share everything. I'd do anything for you, Ari. Please…" He brought her hand to his lips then implored, "Will you marry me?"

Her head was shaking. Why was her head shaking? Tears welled in her eyes and…her head was shaking. What could it mean? "It's too much, Arthur."

He closed his eyes. He knew it would be. He knew he was going too fast. He knew his feelings had ran away from him and he had fallen faster and harder. He knew he was the only one that wanted this serious commitment.

"I don't deserve all of this. I don't deserve you…" Her face leaked tears as she continued and he wanted so much to wipe them away. He stayed grounded on one knee though because she hadn't given him a firm answer. "You deserve to be with someone better, prettier, smarter—"

"Such a person doesn't exist…You're the only person I could ever be happy with."

Ariadne covered her mouth with her hand and tried to take in all of the praise he was bestowing upon her. She knew he loved her but he'd never been so open and detailed about just how much. It was overwhelmingly magnificent. She had to fumble for her totem. When reality was righteously confirmed, her hand dropped, she bit her lip and began to nod enthusiastically.

"Is that a—" The pace of Arthur's breathing quickened.

Her eyes met his with red rims, "Yes," she breathed.

The Point Man breathed a sigh of exhilaration and stood to get closer to her. As close as he could manage. "Yes Arthur," it was firm now, her voice fully returning. Her unbreakable, unwavering resolve shot electricity through his system so that his hands were trembling when he went to slip the ring around her finger. His eyes never left Ariadne's. His crying state equal to hers as he kissed the finger and then took both her hands in his and kissed them. "Yes, I'll marry you." She steadily assured him. Afraid that if she stopped saying it, he would take it back. She reveled in how much joy she brought to Arthur every time she repeated the simple word. When Arthur leaned in to kiss her she erupted in tears, "Yes, yes, a million times yes."

He could taste the salt of her teardrops mixing with his own. He could feel her hiccupping and laughing and smiling and the elation he himself felt couldn't be contained. He twirled her around like a spinning top and set her down to caress her face-His fiancee's face-The cherubic face of his future bride.

"I love you so much, Arthur."

xxxxxx

Ariadne walked through the darkness of their flat. When she turned the corner she was greeted with a dark figure that made her heart momentarily stop, "Jesus, Arthur." She put her hand on her chest, "You gave me a heart attack."

He wasn't phased in the slightest that he'd startled her, "I've been worried sick. It's almost midnight, where have you been?" He flicked the lamp in their living room on.

A little more settled, she took her coat off and laid her keys and wallet on the table. She shrugged non-chalantly and jutted her hip against the table. "I was having dinner with Miles."

"No call? I go to cancel our appointment and you just disappear for the entire afternoon and the better part of the night? I had a mind to go searching for you." (Never mind that he'd already done that.)

She shrugged and entwined their hands to ease him, "I meant to call or leave a note. We were catching up and I just got a little carried away."

He pulled his hand from her grasp, "Why are you lying to me?" Arthur grunted. When had she started lying to him? What was the exact moment, what was his exact word or action that had catapulted them into this situation? He needed to know so he could go back and rip that moment from history.

She swallowed and started to get weary, "I'm not."

"Another one…. I talked to Miles yesterday; he's still stateside with his wife and won't be back until late next week." Ariadne tensed and began rocking back and forth on her heels, "Who were you with?"

"I'm tired, can we just go to bed?" The architect avoided his eyes and started trudging away.

Arthur jibed, "Tell me who you were with and we can."

Silence. She didn't know how to answer that. She halted in her path to the stairs with her hand on the start of the rail. Her eyes darted around in the dark hoping to land on an answer for him. Absentmindedly, her nails started to pick away at the wood under them "…Or you could go back to Eames and spend the night with him."

Her eyes darted back to him, her heart in her throat, "What did you just say?"

"What? You think I don't know who you call every day?" Her airways started to constrict as her fiancé started pacing to her. "Who you whisper rushed goodbyes to when I walk through the door? You think I actually believe you when you say you're going to the grocery or the library for the millionth time during the week? I've followed you. I know you leave to see him!" His eyes bore into hers and the guilt swam inside of her, made her insides murky and polluted with itself.

"Ok, yes," She confessed, "I've been seeing Eames a lot but it's not what you think!" She rushed out.

"Like hell it's not. If it were innocent you wouldn't be sneaking around behind my back."

She put her hands on her hips, "It IS innocent and I snuck around because I knew you'd act like this."

"Like what?" He threw his hands in the air.

"A jealous idiot!" She pushed back him and walked back into living area. "You hate Eames. You cringe every time I ask for him so why would I tell you I'm visiting him? I can't help that he makes me feel safe!"

He raised his eyebrows, "I don't? Every second I'm breathing, I worry about keeping you safe. "

The old issues resurfaced in the blink of an eye and her image of him in all of her hallucinations—the image of murderous, manic, out of control Arthur—was the image that put itself before her and she yelled to it. Confronted it. "You killed Cobb! You were going to kill his children, you scare me!"

"It's not like I wanted to, Ariadne!" He grabbed her wrists and held them with more roughness than he ever had. It was never tight enough to crush her, or hurt her, or even leave a mark but it wasn't the hold she was used to. "Cobb was my mentor, my best friend, my brother, my father figure…I loved him…but I did what I had to do for you. I killed him for YOU, to keep you safe! To keep our baby safe!" His voice became gruff at the memory of her miscarriage. The miniscule body in the shoebox that he buried alone.

"Well our baby is dead now, isn't it?" Her voice dripped with ice. She hated to think of their lost baby, it embodied their lost happiness and trust. Their herculean strong relationship. Those words were aimed at her own ego. Her own body. She lashed out at it verbally. She really blamed herself for the waste of Cobb's death. "You killed them for nothing. I wish I were dead instead of all of them. Philippa, James, Cobb, our baby! I live with guilt every day because I'm the one alive and they're not! I hate myself every second but Eames makes it bearable."

He turned and sulked away from her back into their kitchen, "And you think I'm a monster, I know... It kills me. Every time you look at me, all I see is disgust in them." Arthur started to choke.

Ariadne had followed but stopped in the doorway, "Arthur."

"How do you think it makes me feel? You're my fiancée. I loved you first." He faced away and wouldn't look at her as his insecurities revealed themselves in full throttle.

She calmed down, his meltdown shedding a different light, "Arthur…"

"You think I don't know why you wanted to postpone our wedding?" Arthur used the island as a crutch, "Because you love him now."

Oh God. How could he think that? How could Arthur ever think she could feel that way about anyone else? The Point Man was her oxygen, he was part of her. Her vision of the world shrunk and caved into a tunnel; how could she have made him feel that way? What have you done, Ariadne? "Arthur, I don't." She softened. She walked to stand in front of him and twist his body around to see into his eyes. Really see what was going on in his head.

"You hate me."

"No," She gasped like she had killed someone. That she had gotten a gun and shot Arthur and he was lying on the ground bleeding to death. Not only had she made him feel like her feelings for him had waned but she'd drove him to the point of believing that she hated him with her whole soul. She took his face in her hands and began rubbing his cheek with her thumbs, "I don't hate you and I don't love Eames—not like I love you- I could never love anyone like I love you. Here's the honest to God truth about what I've been doing: I have flashbacks and nightmares from the incident…when it happens, it feels like I'm back in that warehouse and it's all real. In that mindset, you're not my Arthur. You're different and you scare me. Eames is the one who saved us when it happened. When my mind reverts to those memories, I need Eames. I need him to talk me back into reality. To come save us again and bring my Arthur back. I can't help it, I just need him."

His volume fell to a whisper, "You're supposed to need me that way."

"I know." It was melancholy and she caressed the tip of his ear tenderly.

Arthur tentatively put his hands on her waist, "I have them too. Except you're my Eames. If I can't find you, if I can't hear your voice…" he dropped his eye contact, "I think I've failed. My brain tells me one of two things: Either you've left with Eames and abandoned me in that warehouse or t-that I've shot you too…Ari" He stressed, "I think I've killed you too…and-" He slides down the furniture to sit and covers his face in his hands. His own nightmares taking effect. In the dreaming world, he's killed her and in the waking world, she doesn't love him.

She kneels beside him and hears him ask vulnerably, "You don't want to marry me anymore, do you?"

"Of course I do," the girl rested her forehead on his temple, "I went to Eames because I was so broken up over our fight, about you doubting how much I care about you. I cried to him about you all afternoon. I'm still in love with you, Arthur. You just have to be patient with me. We've been through a bunch of trauma but we'll get over this and we'll—we'll be just like we were again."

Arthur turned his head to look at her, both their eyes watering. "I promise you, it's nothing." She kissed him, the first meaningful one she's bestowed in a while. Full, delicate, silky. "Let's go to bed." She stood and offered her hands to help him up. He held them still after he'd stood and placed another kiss on her lips. They'd kept their fingers entwined with one another until they were upstairs and tucked into bed. Ariadne held his arms in their place around her and caressed his forearm until she fell asleep. That night she fought to will the nightmares away with Arthur's presence instead of Eames'.