Disclaimer: Inception does not belong to me.
Ariadne bent her head over the filing cabinet, checking through her blueprints. A shadow loomed, and she looked up, frowning.
"Can I help?" Eames asked, smiling. Her shoulders sagged slightly, and she bit her lip. "Not...really," she admitted, her hand still in the drawer. "I should get on."
"Well, its just..." the Forger's voice trailed off, and he looked at her, kindly. "There does seem to be a lot of bad feeling between you and Arthur at the moment. I-"
"Did Arthur tell you to come and talk to me?" she asked, suddenly feeling furious. Eames' eyes creased, and he shook his head. "No."
"Well, I-" she swallowed, suddenly feeling ashamed. The thoughts swirling through her mind suddenly seemed too private, too delicate, to reveal to the older man. She pulled a blueprint out of the drawer, and closed it firmly. "I'm fine, trust me."
Eames nodded, sensing the need to leave her alone. "OK. But, if you want to talk..."
"Thanks."
She watched as Eames headed back to his desk. Sighing, she walked back down to the basement, where she was involved in crafting and creating the models for their work.
As she entered, she headed for the craft table. Picking up her pencil, she began to annotate her blueprint. Swallowing, she decided to focus.
Arthur frowned as he watched Eames talk to Ariadne. He sighed, and tried to focus upon his own work, but as he watched the Forger smile, and seemingly make overtures, his patience began to dissipate. Swallowing, he decided to make the first move.
He had noticed what she was wearing. Clothes that were too large for her, as though she were trying to conceal herself. He frowned, feeling a sense of unease. Finally, he pushed back his chair, and began to walk down to the basement.
Ariadne swallowed. The PASIV was sitting temptingly on a chair. Cobb always insisted on leaving one in the basement, just in case she needed to explore her designs. Unable to stop herself, she moved over to it, carefully plugging it into her arm. Setting the timer for five minutes, she closed her eyes.
She blinked. She was sitting in a restaurant, alone. Turning her head, she noticed that it was expensive, carefully decorated, beautifully set out. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a simple black dress, with heels.
"Ariadne!" came an impatient voice. Turning round, she smiled. Arthur was approaching, a frown on his face, marring his features. He briefly kissed her on the forehead, then sat down opposite.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, his tone almost off hand. Opening the menu, he began to study it. She swallowed, looking down at hers.
"Just order salad," he snapped, suddenly looking up.
"What?" she asked, puzzled.
"Salad. That's all you need. Trust me." He scowled and looked at her.
"But, Arthur, I-"
"Ariadne. Do you want to get fat again?" He shook his head. "Just order salad, and be done with it!"
"But-"
"I'm saying this to you for your own benefit." He leaned forward. "Don't you want to be with me? Don't you realise I won't tolerate you if you-"
Ariadne shook her head. This was a nightmare. She looked at Arthur, hardly willing to believe what her own mind was projecting to her.
"Wake me up!" she pleaded. "Wake me up!"
Suddenly, she blinked. Arthur was looking directly into her eyes, a worried expression etched onto his face. "Ari! Ari, are you-?"
Taking one look, she felt the tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. Silently, Arthur opened his arms, and pulled her into them.
"Its all right," he whispered, as she buried her head into his shoulder. "Its going to be all right."
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