First off, thanks to Moviefanatic2.0 and whoever Anonymous Guest was =) thank you for the constructive criticism about Ariadne's attitude. You guys gotta keep me on track! Lol. I appreciate you mentioning that stuff so I can fix it and make the story more enjoyable. Almost done! :)

Chapter 18: The Descent

They carried on like that for weeks. Ariadne was gradually having less and less troubles, she still needed Eames sometimes but limited herself to just a few. Arthur would always come home to her cooking and they would snuggle and talk and peck at each other like before. They eased back into their weekend routine, going out all day on Saturday and spending all day in on Sunday. Takeout and ice cream and movies and Arthur's mood had greatly improved. He hadn't had a jealous or bitter thought towards the forger in weeks, almost a month now. Arthur's team had extracted that day and it went off without a hitch. He was headed home early, intent on being the one to cook for her this time. She actually said she'd had some ideas to show him about the wedding that she'd found on the internet and the Point Man was brimming with joy that she had brought it up. He couldn't wait to get home.

When he pulled up, Clarisse was just coming out the door. Ariadne was standing by it and waving to her. "Merci, Ariadne. J'adore!"

"Bye! Let me know how it goes."

Arthur politely greeted Clarisse in passing and opened her car door for her. He watched her speed away and jogged up the stairs to twirl Ariadne around. "I take it your job went over perfectly?"

"It did."

"Well…it is you." They pecked and went inside. Some of her sketches were pulled out all over the living room, Arthur asked why. "Miles was approached about someone wanting to build a cottage in the country and he remembered that I'd designed one for an exam last year. He wanted to know if I could fax them to him…trying to find them."

Arthur beamed, "Ari, that's wonderful. Your first real life structure!"

She bit her lip and squealed, "I know! I hope he likes them."

"God, I'm so proud of you, Sweetheart." She squeezed his neck as his picked her up. "After you get this done, I think we should have dinner at the Eiffel to celebrate our successes."

She nodded and Arthur retired to their bathroom to relieve himself. He was zipping up his pants when he noticed something odd in the trash can. A weirdly colored box with flowers on it. He flushed and leaned down to pick it up and read it. His heart stopped…the big blue capital letters: 'Pregnancy Test' were sprawled across the top. He turned the box over and over in his palms. Reading the instructions and the guarantees like he didn't understand what it was. 'Be 100 percent sure!' 'Detect before your first missed period!' '1. Pee on stick. 2. Wait—'

He wasn't reading this. This box got in here by mistake. He threw it back in the trash like it was diseased and fished for a slender white stick…it was hidden beneath loads of tissue and toothbrush packages but he pulled it. Arthur grew nauseous and his heart started beating fast. He stared at the pregnancy stick and an unholy little pink plus sign stared him back. This wasn't happening…His hands had started to shake. He threw the stick back into the trash can with a force, nearly snapping it in two. Then he retched his guts out into the toilet bowl.

Arthur was pacing. This wasn't possible. Ariadne couldn't be pregnant. They hadn't been intimate since before the incident. Weeks, months. And yet, he knew she couldn't have miraculously conceived on her own. Ariadne was pregnant and it was someone else's baby. Ariadne had been touched by someone else in the places only he should be privy to. Who was he kidding? Someone else? It was Eames. He hadn't stopped, she hadn't stopped, they just got better at hiding it and sneaking around behind his back. Oh, that move about bringing up the wedding was clever on her part. They were sick. Both of them. How could she do this to him? She lost his baby, so she decided she had to have someone else's? It wasn't Arthur that miscarried it was the Architect. She's been lying to him. Been overly sweet, been cooking for him, and cuddling with him and then stabbing him in the back and screwing his coworker. Eames. Eames for fuck's sake. What did she see in him? What had he ever done for her?

Arthur was the one who gave up everything for her. Arthur was the one who sacrificed his best friend for her. Arthur was the one who paid off big companies if a job didn't go well so she could stay in Paris. So he could give her a stable life and she wouldn't have to live on the run. Arthur was the one who ate, slept, and breathed Ariadne. He was the one who was head over heels for her, who would do anything for her, who wasn't whole without her. Eames just wanted her to spite him. Eames didn't care for her like Arthur. Eames couldn't care for her like Arthur. No one in the world could love or care for anyone more than Arthur did for that woman. His woman. His fiancée. She was supposed to be his. She was his.

She wasn't always like this. She used to feel the same way. She used to be honest with him. This person wasn't Ariadne. She wouldn't do this him; she wouldn't be capable. His Ariadne adored him, his Aria—that was it. She was different because she had been seeking help from Eames. Eames was messing with her mind. Eames had told her things to turn her against Arthur. Eames was making her nightmares worse, making Arthur out to be the bad guy. Eames was warping her sense of their relationship, turning her into a liar and a cheat and a slut. Eames was corrupting his Ariadne. Eames had taken her away from him. And if God was Arthur's witness, he would put her mind back to where it was. He was getting her back at any cost because this wasn't acceptable. This wouldn't happen. This would go no further.

Arthur stormed out of the bathroom and slammed every door he passed, he raced down the stairs and brushed passed Ariadne without a second glance. "Arthur?" He slammed the front door and she heard the loud sound of the accelerator zooming off. When he'd come home three hours later, Ariadne was worried sick. Nibbling at her nails, tapping her feet, sitting by the front door. He sauntered in like he'd never stormed out. A bright smile on his face, blissful even. Ariadne shot to her feet and took his hands in hers, "Arthur, are you ok?"

"I'm wonderful. I've begun a new job." He put on his charming smile and whisked her away to dinner like they'd planned. They continued their easy, fakely infatuated, semblance of a relationship for two and a half weeks.

And then one day, the shadow fell.

Ariadne woke from her nap one day to a reckless pounding on her front door. Groggily she sat up, not expecting Arthur to be home yet and answered. Eames pushed his way inside and shut the door, panting and maniacally ordering, "Ariadne, pack your stuff! You've got to get out of here!"