3.
~ Ariadne was worried about the way Eames would breath in his sleep. The heavy breathing troubled her because he knew he never breathed like that when he slept before. When they were together, his breathing was light and peaceful.
He would do nothing but sleep these days. She sat in a little rocking chair beside the window and read as he dreamed. While bringing him home, she had found a tightly wrapped and folded manuscript tucked carefully in his dirty jacket.
She was stunned to see it was his writing, yet something about it was different. His words were powerful and beautiful all at once. It told a tragic story of a girl possessed by a witch. Forced to torment a good knight with her evil ways. It was his best work by far.
Eames slept the sleep of the dead and, late at night, she would stay in his room and type out his manuscript. She added to his story a little. Correcting the long running sentences he was fond of using. The man would have long thoughts that would stretch out for paragraphs without breaks; it drove her to madness.
He would sleep and breath deeply and never woke from the clacking of the typewriter keys.
The house Fredrick had left her was small, but cozy. Olivia and Harold had to share a room and Maura, along with the housekeeper, and man of all work, were the only servants needed. The guest room where Eames slept was comfortable and over looked a lovely set of trees.
How they hand managed to get him upstairs, she had no idea. Eames still had the limp and required his cane. His face was healing well from his attack on himself, but the scar would be there forever.
He would wake up and eat a little. His thoughts disjointed as he asked her what happened and then tell her to go away.
"Eames, I'm not leaving you." she assured him.
He seemed to grow very tired and would fall asleep again. Blocking her out.
Ariadne finally finished typing his masterpiece and sent it to his editor the next morning. She was delighted to receive a phone call a few days later. The editor thrilled with it and wanted to pay Eames to write another.
Ariadne had to explain to the man that Mr. Eames was very ill.
"Well, that won't suit, Mrs. Hays. The readers will want another book from this man as soon as possible. Serials are all the rage now. You know, like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes series. This could be a fantastic series and highly profitable to." the man said.
"When my friend has recovered, I'll be sure to tell him that, sir." Ariadne said stiffly.
~ In his little room, she listened to him breathing. Her eyes going over his words in his hand written manuscript. It wasn't hard to know she was the inspiration for the witch and himself the gallant knight for whom she torments.
She tried not to feel too hurt by this literary slander, but she couldn't help but feel the sting of it.
Eames' breathing had changed. He was waking up.
"What are you doing with that?" he said hostility as she looked up from his work. She had read and typed it out all these weeks, she had the thing memorized now.
She sighed as her friend was awake and up to his old hateful ways.
"You're awake." she said and carefully re-wrapped his manuscript in the leather.
"Where did you get that? That's mine." he hissed from his bed. His face and body too weak to be a threat.
"I know it's yours, Eames. It's very good. The best you've ever done I think."
"Stay out of my things." he warned. His eyes were rolling in the back of his head.
"Stay awake." she said and went to sit at his bed side. "Eames, stay with me."
He opened his eyes again. It looked like it was hard work for him.
"Why am I so tired?" he whined up at her.
"The doctor says you're anemic. Most likely got it in the trenches and your lifestyle didn't help. You're lawyer says no charges will be pressed against you because you've been so sick." she said and adjusted his covering.
"Charges?"
"For the suicide attempt." she told him.
"What?" his hand went to his face. He obviously had forgotten. Forgotten about trying to shot himself in the head and missing. His hand went to the left side of his face; feeling the roughness of his wound that was slowly healing.
"It will scar, but you'll live." she whispered.
"What are you doing here?" he growled at her. His eyes
She laughed. She couldn't help it. Part of her expected her former lover to rejoice at seeing her again. She had left everything to care for him. Left her dependable Arthur back in New York, turned her children's lives upside down more than once in the past few months, and all she was given in return was 'what are you ding here?'.
"I'm here to take care of you, Eames." she told him and poured him a fresh glass of water from the table.
"I don't need help. Go back to where you were." he huffed.
"Eames." she said in a warning voice. "You've been talking nonsensical for weeks now. It's time to stop."
He glared at her. The same way Olivia would when she didn't get what she wanted.
"Stay out of my things." he pouted. "That writing is not for you to read."
"Too late for that." she said smartly. "I've read it, typed it up and sent it to you editor. He's already requested a second book and you'll be getting some forms to sign for publication."
"What? You did what?" he growled and managed to sit up in bed.
"You heard me." she teased. "Are you hungry? You haven't been eating very much since I came to get you. I can get you something to eat."
"No, I'm not hungry. You sent my story to my editor?" he barked at her.
"Yes." she said plainly.
"You had no right."
"I know. Just as you had no right to try and kill yourself." she told him and brought him a glass of water.
He had the decency to look ashamed of himself.
"I was... I wasn't well." he admitted.
Ariadne fought the urge to roll her eyes. The irony of Arthur's words coming back to her.
"Well, you're on the mends now." she told him as he drank his water.
"Where am I?" he asked.
"Fredrick's house in Town." she said and went back to her rocking chair.
"Oh." was all he said.
"We couldn't very well go back to Blue Rivers now could we?" she said with a smile.
"I didn't do it." he told her.
"Do what?"
"I didn't start that fire. I didn't kill my Aunt Percy or Miles."
"I never said you did." she said and picked up some white yarn to knit a baby blanket. "No one is saying you did, Eames."
"My mother..." he whispered and looked sad. "Is she here?"
"No, we think she's in France or India." Ariadne told him.
Eames was silent.
"It's not your fault, Eames." she whispered.
"No, it's yours." he accused.
"Mine?" she gasped. The feel of a silly school yard fight about to break out between them.
"Yes. If you hadn't left me, none of this would have happened."
"Eames, stop being ridiculous." she scoffed and went back to her knitting.
"I'm ridiculous, am I? That's why you left me, isn't it?" he accused and looked ready to cry.
"Eames, stop it." she said sharply. "I left because my husband wasn't even dead and I was having an affair with you instead of being a good wife and mother. I left you because I wanted a new life and frankly we can both do better."
"No we can't. We make each other miserable and we deserve each other." he restored.
Ariadne tried not to laugh. She couldn't stop a little smile coming to her face as she dropped a stitch.
"How long have you been back?" he asked.
"A little over a month now." she said calmly. "We got you from Fischer's hospital and you've been nonsensical till now."
"What was I saying?" he asked.
"Telling me to go away." she sighed and finished a row.
"Why didn't you just leave me?" he pouted. "Let me die?"
"Because I love you. Not sure why, but I do."
"You wouldn't have left me if you loved me."
"I left you because I loved you and was afraid it wasn't good for me." she whispered and looked over her stitching.
"Hmm." Eames said and finished drinking his water.
She could feel him looking at her and tried not to blush.
"I'm hungry." he announced.
"I'll go and have the housekeeper fix you something to eat." she said and put her knitting down.
"America was good to you, you look really nice." he said as he watched her stand up.
"Thank you." she told him stiffly.
"You must have been eating well, you've put on a little more weight." he observed. His tone indicating it to be a compliment as she felt his eyes raking over her body.
"I have been eating well." she said and smoothed out her dress. Her hands careful not to brush over her enlarging belly. "But the weight gain is probably from the pregnancy." she told him and left the room before he could say anything.