Author's Note: I know, I know. It's been a while. But I'm preparing for my college audition, and my pain medication isn't helping my arthritis or fibromyalgia. I just feel like crap. And this chapter was a freaking bitch to write. So let me give you my plan: I'm not going to update for about a month. I have some vague ideas on where this is going, but I need more time to plan without having the pressure of needing to update something for you guys every week. You guys don't give me pressure, I do. And I feel really guilty that I haven't updated in a while. So that's my plan, and hopefully around the beginning of April, I'll start giving weekly updates. So this is the last chapter until then. Enjoy, my faithful readers!
Chapter Eleven:
Arthur shut the apartment door, knowing he could pick the lock should he need to get back inside. He quickly made his way back down the stairs to the lobby's front desk.
"Do you have video cameras?" Arthur asked smoothly.
"Si, senor," the clerk replied. "But I can't let you watch them."
Arthur slid five hundred Euros across the counter, knowing no words were needed. The clerk glanced to his left and to his right before taking the money. "Come with me."
Arthur followed the clerk behind the desk, down the employee hallway, and into a side room. Twenty-four television screens lay on the wall before them, with hundreds to multi-color buttons on the desk below the screens.
"Has a group of men come in at any time tonight?" Arthur questioned, turning to the clerk.
The man turned thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "But four men have come in, maybe thirty minutes apart, and haven't come down. I just assumed they were staying with their girlfriends," he said, shrugging.
"Why are you telling me this?" Arthur inquired.
"Something just gave me a weird feeling about them. They were all in suits. Who does that just to see their girlfriends? Unless they were wanting to get lucky…"
"Is there anything useful you can tell me?" Arthur snapped, impatience leaking into his voice. "Any description that could help me?"
"Well, the last man that came in had a silver briefcase, though I don't know if that helps," the clerk said quickly, sensing Arthur's tone.
Arthur froze. "What did he look like?"
Sensing the change in him, the clerk continued. "Silver hair, big nose. Just smiled when I asked him if I could help him get a room."
"What time?" Arthur asked, now gripping the man's forearm.
"I don't know! Eight, maybe eight-thirty?"
"Find it," Arthur demanded, point to the screens.
The clerk immediately did so, finding the time on the right monitor. "I need to go. You're welcome to look as long as you need," he said, holding his hands up in surrender as he slowly backed out of the room.
Arthur didn't reply, too busy intently watching the screen. For the next hour, Arthur studied the screen, waiting for the man he was certain could make an appearance. When the time read eight-thirty, Arthur was beginning to lose hope. No one had come on the fifth floor since eight, and the rest had been of the same empty hallway, never changing, always staying the same. Something about that bothered Arthur. He forwarded the video to ten-twenty, when he would have been on the fifth floor.
He wasn't there.
Arthur groaned, mentally smacking himself on the forehead. It was a recording of the empty hallway. Now that he knew this was a recording, he just barely caught the turn of a door handle before it started over. Within ten seconds, the door handle hardly turned before starting again.
Arthur ran out of the room, down the hall, and back into the lobby before quickly exiting the building, ignoring the clerk yelling after him. He pulled out his phone and listened to it ring before a familiar British voice answered.
"Eames, we have a problem…"
A problem they had indeed. He knew exactly who had done this, and he also knew why.
AxA AxA AxA AxA AxA
She opened her eyes, the bright sunlight causing her to quickly shut them again. Unintentionally, Ariadne tensed her body, not bothering to hope that all of it had, in fact, been a dream. Hoping was futile in these situations. It was best not to hope at all.
Ariadne shot out of bed when she heard the soft click of a door handle turning. She glanced around, mentally groaning when she realized she didn't have any kind of weapon. I should have bought a gun, she thought. Tip-toeing to the doorway, she hid behind the door, hoping to at least catch the intruder by surprise.
"Ariadne?" a voice called softly.
A second too late, for she was already placing a swift kick into his stomach. Arthur doubled over on the ground, gasping for air.
"Oh my god!" Ariadne gasped. "I'm so sorry!" She bent down on the ground, attempting to help him get his breath back.
"Why in the world did you kick me?" Arthur asked, getting up.
"I thought you were an intruder," Ariadne said, not bothering to take into account his confused look before running into his arms.
He didn't reply, simply wrapping his arms tighter around her. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you're acting like this. Considering what happened."
"Oh," Ariadne mumbled, backing out of his embrace, her face glowing bright red, but at the same time feeling relief. If this was a dream, and Browning was controlling it, Arthur would have no recollection of the embarrassing situation that had caused her to leave in the first place.
"May I ask what happened?" a voice asked.
Arthur immediately shielded Ariadne and pulled out his gun, all in a heartbeat.
"No," Arthur said pleasantly. "But I can tell you what is going to happen."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you," Browning replied, sounding amused.
Arthur didn't waste any time. He pulled the trigger. Except, nothing happened. Just a soft click. When the gun didn't shoot, Arthur pulled the gun back towards him, examining it. As he did that, Browning took his shot.
This time, Ariadne did scream. Blood poured from the open wound on Arthur's shoulder. He sank to his knees, clutching his arm before hitting the floor. Ariadne dropped to the ground beside him. Blood seeped through her fingers as she pressed down on his shoulder, attempting to apply pressure to slow the flow of blood. It wasn't working. His breathing was getting labored, his breaths becoming shallower until his chest finally stopped moving.
"No," Ariadne cried, tears running down her face. "Come on, Arthur!"
Browning chuckled behind her, and Ariadne saw red spots, her rage becoming bigger and bigger by the second. She whirled around, preparing to attack him, but the dream dissolved before she even took her first step.
AxA AxA AxA AxA AxA
Ariadne sat up from her bed, her body coated in a sheen sweat. Trembles shook her body until her body was shaking so hard she couldn't get up.
"Ariadne?" Arthur asked, rushing over to the side of her bed.
Ariadne felt relief flow through her body at the realization that he was still alive, but soon terror coursed through her veins when she realized what was about to happen.
"Get out. Now," she snapped, all but pushing Arthur out of her room and into the kitchen, inching closer and closer to the front door. The only reason she had gotten this far, she knew, was because she had caught him by surprise. The situation quickly turned.
"Get out? I just found you after three weeks. I'm not leaving," he said, taking hold of her wrists and stopping her efforts.
"You have to!" she screeched, her voice hysterical as she pounded her fists against his chest.
"What is wrong with you?" Arthur asked, worry and confusing filling his voice.
Ariadne just shook her head.
"You know, getting him to leave won't save him," Browning said, coming into the living room and sitting on the couch, twirling a gun between his fingers.
"How is he here?" Ariadne cried, cutting off an angry retort from Arthur. "If you control all of this, the last dream had the real Arthur in it. Only he knew about the situation that happened the last time we saw each other, and you shot him."
"That's the brilliance of the sedative, darling. You don't know whether he's real, your projection, or my projection. For all you know, he could be dead. But you keep projecting him, or I keep projecting him. And it keeps this fun game lasting just a bit longer," Browning replied.
Ariadne stilled. "And why would I agree to your plan if he's dead?"
"Because he might still be alive. And that's all I need for you to say yes."
Ariadne grew pale. He was right. If she said no, this nightmare continued. And she didn't know how many more of these she could last through, especially not knowing whether Arthur was really alive. On the other hand, agreeing to expulsion would probably be the biggest mistake of her life. It was a lose-lose situation, and Ariadne was backed into a corner.
BANG!
The sound of a gun shooting pulled her out of her thoughts. She squeezed her eyes shut, a shriek coming from her mouth. She refused to open her eyes, shutting them even tighter, so tight that colored spots danced before her.
Don't, she repeated in her head. Don't look. You already know what happened, and what you'll see. Don't look.
"It's not real," she whispered to herself.
"How do you know?" Browning taunted.
She didn't. She didn't know if that was the real Arthur or a projection of him, with blood pouring out of his chest. And that was what scared her the most. With every dream, nightmare, reality that she went to, the situations just got worse. And each time they happened, she pulled a little more into herself. Soon there wouldn't be anything left but a hard shell.
The dream dissolved.
AxA AxA AxA AxA AxA
Ariadne got out of bed, moving slowly into the kitchen. She flinched when she heard her apartment door open, not even bothering to see who it was. It was either Arthur or Browning, and to be honest, she couldn't care less. She didn't care that it could be the real Arthur, that he had finally found her and was going to bring her home. None of it mattered anymore.
"Ariadne?" Arthur questioned, resting a hand on her shoulder.
Ariadne ducked under his arm, cowering when he tried to get closer.
"Don't," she warned, holding her hands up in front of her, her breaths coming in short gasps. "Don't come any closer."
"What? Why?" Arthur asked, though he stopped trying to get near her.
"Because she's learning," Browning replied for her. "Learning not to get close anymore, especially when she doesn't know if this is a dream or reality."
"Or a nightmare," she whispered, though neither man paid any attention.
"Of course she knows whether this is real or not," Arthur snapped, his eyes shifting from Ariadne's cowered figure to Browning's.
"No, I don't," Ariadne said quietly.
Both men turned to look at her, Arthur's normal detached mask replaced by surprise, and Browning's smile turning cold. If Ariadne wasn't feeling so helpless and defeated, she would have smacked the grin right off of his face.
"Just get it over with," Ariadne begged softly, turning away from them.
"Now, where's the fun if you're not watching?" Browning asked, a rumbling laugh emerging from his chest. Ariadne felt her body turning back towards them, unable to keep from watching the scene before her. Fists clenched and tears pouring down her face, Ariadne didn't make a sound when the gun was fired.
For all she knew, it would be too late. The Arthur lying on the floor could be the real one. But she held the last shred of hope tightly, praying that Arthur was still alive. "I'll do it," she said weakly. "I'll do it."
Some would say she was giving up. She would tell them that her heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces, close to being destroyed for good, and that this could be her last chance.
A/N: I made it twice as long to keep you going. Whoo!