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croikThis chapter ends kinda abruptly because it used to have another scene at the end, but that grew into chapter 8. So now I'm a chapter over my original estimate, eeps.
Fandom: Inception
Title: The Helix Trap
Chapter: 7/19 (4,143 words) (For other parts please check my My main post.
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Eames/Robert, Arthur/Ariadne, Cobb, Yusuf, Saito, Browning, and others.
Warnings: Violence, sexual content.
Disclaimer: These characters and setting do not belong to me and are being used without permission but for no profit
Summary: After the Inception proves successful, Eames tracks down Robert out of concern for its unusual side effects. Meanwhile, Arthur is hired to a dangerous job that forces the rest of the team to take sides: whether to defend Robert and his fragile mind, or ruin him completely.
Notes: C&C Welcome and appreciated. Thanks to my beta![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chypie for her input!
Ariadne peered through the glass at the evening Los Angeles scenery flashing by. "I didn't think I'd be back here so soon," she said thoughtfully. She snorted. "And I'll be back to Paris in time for my exam."
Seated next to her in the taxi, Arthur smiled. "Will you need me to help you cram?" he offered.
"I feel like I've been cramming all week." She gave her eyes a brief rub. "My brain's so full of information it's going to pop sooner or later. I can't believe it's already here."
"You'll be fine. I know you're ready."
His fingertips brushed the back of her palm, and she glanced to him, smiling in appreciation of his compliment. It's only been a week, but we've spent five times that in training, thanks to Yusuf's compounds, she thought. And after tomorrow...it could be over again. She turned her hand, giving Arthur's a squeeze before he could get away. "I know," she said. "You're a good teacher."
The taxi dropped them off at their hotel, and after they checked in they moved to their room on the seventh floor. By then Ariadne was starving but feeling clean after the long flight took precedence, and Arthur agreed to wait while she showered.
Two full levels, each the size of a city. When she closed her eyes against the shower spray she could see them, and her lips moved as she recited the details to herself. Five points, one at the center. Fifteen connecting tunnels. Thirty-two floors in the tower. She took in a deep breath and reached for the shampoo. She was confident in her ability to recreate her dream to perfection, and trusted Nash to do the same, but knowing what was at stake still made her nervous. Even more intimidating was the threat of Robert's projections.
Ariadne held her hands up in front of her, going through the motions Arthur had taught her: loading her handgun, bracing herself to parry a punch, programming their escape vehicle. She had done each so many times during her training that they felt engrained on her subconscious, yet she still wasn't sure she was ready, as often as Arthur assured her.
Arthur. She shook herself and went about actually washing. I hope he's ready for this, too.
Once finished, she poked through her bag and smiled to herself as she pulled out her new outfit: a cool gray suit coat and matching skirt, a white blouse, and a delicate blue scarf. She had picked it out just before leaving Paris, making it the most expensive outfit she had ever owned. Maybe it's not appropriate if we're just going to get dinner and go to bed, but...I ought to get his opinion before tomorrow, right? Ariadne smiled to herself and got dressed.
She exited the bathroom and found Arthur sitting at the desk, frowning intensely at his laptop screen. When she had stood patiently waiting for him to notice her for too long, she frowned, and moved closer. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, yet." Arthur didn't look up, clicking around his screen. "But I just learned that Saito is in the country."
"Saito?" Ariadne stopped behind him and put a hand on his chair. "That's not totally unusual, is it? I'm sure he owns an American airline or two."
"Yes, but I have a bad feeling about this. I don't think he was scheduled to be in Los Angeles this week."
Ariadne shifted her weight to her other foot. "But there's no way he could know about the job, right? If only the five of us and Mr. Browning know."
"You're right." He glanced back at her. "I'm probably worrying over nothing, but..."
He paused and looked at her again, finally noticing her attire. His eyes widened and he pushed his chair back so he could get a better view. Ariadne smiled, watching him take in the sophisticated cut of her suit, and especially the way the jacket was tailored at her slender waist.
"What's all this?" he asked, looking as if he were fighting back a grin.
"All what?" Ariadne replied innocently. She fingered the scarf at her neckline. "I dress like this all the time."
Arthur's fingers flexed against the armrest, as if wishing something else were beneath them. She was expecting some kind of tease but when he replied, it was with sincerity. "It looks good on you," he said.
Ariadne blushed. "I figured if we're infiltrating Fischer's home, I should at least look like I could belong there," she explained, fussing with the hem of her jacket. "Think it'll do the job?"
"And then some." He stood, and seemed to debate with himself a moment before reaching out to tug the seams on her shoulders. "You got it in Paris?"
"Yeah. I used some of my money from the last job." She tucked her still damp hair behind her ears. "So you like it?"
Arthur's expression made it clear she was understating his opinion. His mouth worked and he finally admitted, "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." Her ears burned, and she turned away before she could let him embarrass her too badly. "So have you heard from the others?"
"Yes, I was just on the phone with Yusuf." He continued to admire her as she moved away. "He and Nash are in the hotel down the street. Dr. Banks has her own place in the city, so she'll meet up with us at Fischer's place in the morning. Browning's promised us a three hour window to work with--it should be plenty of time."
Ariadne sat down on the edge of her bed. "Think there's any chance we'll get caught?" she asked.
"No." Arthur's answer came not too quickly nor too delayed, making it perfectly believable. "Security will all be Browning's people. Even if we're seen entering and leaving, no one will know a crime's been committed until days after we're gone, if ever." His lip quirked. "That's the advantage of dream crime."
"I guess." Talk of the job sobered her, setting aside her girlish concerns about her outfit. "This is really going to work, isn't it?" she asked quietly.
He tilted his head to the side. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"No--not really." She tried to shrug the anxious bubble out of her stomach. "But I do feel bad for Fischer. Don't you? I mean, at least a little?"
He frowned, and the silence that filled the room while he hesitated to answer made her nervous. "It doesn't matter if I do," he concluded finally. "Back when we first started planning the inception I'd already convinced myself he wasn't going to survive for long afterwards. In fact..." He stood and moved closer. "If Saito had instead asked for a hit, I probably would have done it, if it meant getting Cobb back to his kids. Anything we do to Fischer now isn't as bad as that."
Ariadne felt a chill. "Have you done that before?" she asked, even if she didn't really want to know the answer. "I didn't think assassination was part of dream crime."
"It's not. Not usually." He sat down next to her. "That's another reason why I prefer it. But I can't say people don't get killed, or that I haven't been the one to pull the trigger."
She knew better than to try and imagine it. "This is such a surreal conversation," she said. "I feel like I should be freaking out right now, but it was only last week that I shot you in the head--you know, in the dream. It doesn't quite seem real."
"Somnacin will do that to you," Arthur replied. "That's why the totems are so important." He moved to his suitcase on the opposite bed, and while his back was turned Ariadne discreetly fingered the bishop in her pocket. "I have something for you."
"For me?" She perked, grateful for the change of subject. "What is it?"
"I got it just before we left Paris." Arthur dug through his things, and when he pulled out a small, shoe-box sized silver case her breath caught in her throat. "I think you know what this is," he said.
Ariadne stared, speechless, as he returned to her side and offered her the gift. Her fingertips tingled when she accepted. Bracing the case on her knees she opened it, eyes wide and beaming as she looked over the half-sized PASIV, its timer, its needles, its twin glass bottles.
"It only connects two," Arthur explained as she poured over the device. "It's not legal for you to have it, so you shouldn't be inviting other people to use it anyway. If you use it less than a few hours a week, the Somnacin in there will last for about six to eight weeks. After that you'll have to set something up with Yusuf to get more." He smiled dryly. "We've been using his special mix so much lately, I don't think the normal black market Somnacin will be enough for you."
Ariadne licked her lips. My own PASIV. I can keep dreaming, even after this job is done. She took in a deep breath, and when she realized how tight her chest suddenly felt, she closed the PASIV lid with a snap. "You're making me feel like a drug addict," she joked, running her hands over the smooth surface. "But this is amazing, thank you. I was worried I'd..."
She trailed off as a disquieting thought entered her brain. Arthur tried to read it out of her face and missed the mark. "That after this job was over, you'd never get to use one again?" he guessed. "Cobb was right about you--you're good at this, and you don't want to give it up."
Ariadne frowned down at her blurry reflection on the case. "Well...yes, but..."
He stood again, and retrieved his suit out of his luggage. "I know how it feels," he continued as he moved to hang it up in the closet. "You could say I was hooked after my very first time. The things you can do in there, the things you can make..." He ran his hands over the front of his jacket lapel, his eyes focused on some distant memory. "I know I'll never be able to give it up. At this point, I don't think you will either. It would be a good idea if you got a legal PASIV license, but in the meantime, that should tide you over."
Ariadne set the device on the bed behind her; some of the charm was already wearing off. "Does this mean I can't use yours anymore?"
"Hm?"
She left the bed and moved to stand in front of him, stealing his full attention away from his wardrobe. "Is this your way of getting rid of me?" she asked bluntly.
"What?" Arthur looked genuinely taken aback, which made her feel somewhat better. "No--that's not what I--"
"Because I get it, I really do," Ariadne continued. It needs to be said. "I know you're trying to protect me from this crazy dream crime life you all live. And honestly I don't know if I want to be part of it anyway. Well, more than I already am." She shook her head. "But if you think I'm going along with this insanity because it's the only way I can get my hands on your little dream box, that's not what this is about."
"My little dream box?" he repeated with raised eyebrows.
She glared. "You know what I mean."
Thankfully, he killed his amusement enough to answer with due seriousness. "I do," he said. "But I know what dreamshare means to you, and I want you to have options." He set his hand on her shoulder. "Once this job is over, if you want to go back to your normal, legal life, you can. If you want to work with me again, we can work something out. Either way, I don't want you to have to choose between dreamshare and the rest of your life."
Ariadne plucked the hand off her shoulder and nudged it to her waist. "Or...between my real life, and you?" she supposed.
Color tinged his cheeks, and before he could form a reply she rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. She had intended it to be just a gentle invitation, to assure him that his attention to her hadn't gone unnoticed; but when she started to withdraw, his mouth chased hers. His hand tightened at her waist and he kissed her back with unexpected passion. Though surprised by the fervent weight of his lips, Ariadne did her best to meet him in kind. He was warm, and sincere, and it made her pulse flutter.
Arthur's other hand rose to her hip, and she found herself being tugged--her back struck the closet door with an unnerving rattle that startled her out of the kiss. She turned her head and Arthur's still-eager mouth skated along her jaw, sending goose bumps rippling down her skin. She pressed her hands to his chest, and though the taut stretch of muscle beneath her fingers thrilled her, she couldn't help but be intimidated by the tension she felt from his body leaning into hers.
As soon as Arthur realized that she was shrinking back, he stopped. His ears flushed and he started to pull away awkwardly. "Ari--"
Ariadne cut him off with a laugh. Her chest was tight but she smiled up at him, wanting to reassure him before he got the wrong idea. "Been holding that in for a while, huh?" she teased.
He let his breath out in a relieved, embarrassed sigh. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay," she said quickly, her cheeks reddening as well. "Really, it is. I'm glad we...cleared that up." Her hands were still on his chest, and she gave it a gentle rub before easing him back. "I guess this means that after this job is over, it might occur to you to contact me?"
He smiled and stepped back. "The warehouse is still paid up," he said. "No reason to leave Paris now."
"Good." Something she told herself was excitement bubbled in her stomach as she straightened her blouse and retrieved her purse. "Let's get something to eat," she suggested. "The lounge should be open for a while longer. I'd rather do that than the restaurant or the bar."
"Sounds good." Still looking uncharacteristically bashful, Arthur opened the door for her. As they left the room she took his hand loosely in hers, and let their fingers mingle all the way down the hall.
I guess this is our first date, she thought, smiling shyly to herself as they stepped off the elevator. Not how I planned to handle this, but he likes me, so...why not? His hand was warm against hers and when he snuck a glance at her, so were his eyes. It made her feel years younger, in a good and slightly less good way.
"Since we're in town," she said as they took a seat at a small table in the lounge, "are you going to call Cobb while we're here? If he finds out you were in Los Angeles and didn't say anything, he'll be mad."
Arthur frowned. "How would he find out?"
His answer came too quickly, and Ariadne purses her lips. "Are you still worried about Eames?" she asked in a quieter tone.
"No," he said, again too quickly. "He respects Cobb--he won't go out of his way to hurt him." He stared with forced fascination at the salt and pepper shakers, but Ariadne's continued stare broke him down soon enough. "I'll tell Cobb myself, eventually. It's not the right time now."
Is there ever a right time to risk a friendship? As much as she wanted to tell him to get it over with, she knew better. Even watching his downturned eyes broke her heart a little. "You miss him already, don't you?"
Arthur smiled wryly. "He's not dead, he's retired," he said. "I plan on staying in touch."
"But it won't be the same," Ariadne pressed. "He told me he was going to give up his PASIV, even."
"It'll be good for him. And for me--I know I need to stop relying on him."
A server came over to ask for their orders, and as Arthur gave his Ariadne glanced over the hotel lobby. It's none of my business, really, she thought. But I want them to stay friends. It's important to Arthur.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she spotted a familiar figure stepping out of the elevator they had occupied only a minute earlier. Her heart jumped into her throat. "Arthur."
The hint of panic in her tone caught his attention, and he quickly followed her gaze. He smothered a curse against the back of his palm.
**
"I'm in the lobby now," Eames said into his cell phone as he made his way across the tile floor. He was dressed casually in brown and his messenger bag held the familiar weight of his PASIV. "Don't tell me you came right from the airfield. I said I could meet you at your place."
"No," Robert replied swiftly. "Stay there--I'm coming in."
Eames wasn't sure whether to smile or frown as he was hung up on, though he couldn't blame Robert for his eagerness. He had spent the entire last week with almost nothing else on his mind, going over everything he had learned in Robert's dreams and trying to think of their options. More than once he had awoken to the illusion that a warm body was nestled beside him, or that a veiled figure was retreating into the shadows. He was fairly certain that he was getting too caught up in his own curiosity, and that he would have pinwheels turning in his brain before long.
The hotel doorman moved to the entrance, and was almost bowled over by the man entering swiftly through it. Though there was no mistaking Robert's wide blue eyes, he was almost rendered unrecognizable by the alterations to his appearance: he was wearing dark, tight-fitting jeans, and a green jacket with too many pockets over a plain T-shirt. His uncommonly casual attire was topped with a cap that only barely disguised the fact that his hair had received a drastic cut as well.
Robert glanced left and right, his manner impatient. When he spotted Eames across the lobby he went rigid, and Eames could almost sense the heavy thump of his heart. He strode forward with such swift certainty that it seemed a collision was imminent, but then he stopped short. "Eames."
"Look at you," Eames greeted, smiling despite the contagious nature of Robert's breathless intensity. "Quite a different take on the Robert Fischer I last saw."
"This isn't me," Robert replied sharply. He was tense, shifting underneath his skin like a snake trying to molt. "I just couldn't wear that god damn suit anymore."
"It's fine. I like it." Eames offered his hand. "It's good to see--"
Robert snatched his hand up and shook it vigorously. "I thought you might not come," he said. "I almost didn't myself. But then I realized I'd like to sleep at some point in the rest of my life, so...here I am."
Uh-oh. Eames looked again and noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "You haven't been sleeping...at all?"
"No. Well." Robert shook his head distractedly. "All right, maybe two or three hours a night. Some nights. But that's what coffee is for, isn't it?"
He's getting worse, Eames thought, frowning at the cold fingers that were still clamped around his. He needs help--more than I can give him. "I want to hear all about it," he said, "but not over coffee. Let's find somewhere a bit more private than this."
He started to herd them toward the exit, but Robert planted his feet. "No--let's go to your room," he said.
"But you just landed, didn't you? Don't you want to stop home first, to--"
"No." Robert looked around the lobby again in paranoia. "Peter's been warning my security about not letting me have guests. Someone will be watching the condo. Just let me..."
He trailed off, his attention caught by something apparently so fascinating that he had to lean around Eames to continue watching. Eames frowned. "What?"
"I know them," Robert murmured.
Eames turned, and noticed a man and a woman heading for the elevators. The slick brown hair of the former was instantly recognizable to him, and heat flared through his veins at the sight. He passed his satchel to Robert. "Mind waiting here a moment? Thank you."
**
Ariadne kept a tight grip on Arthur's hand as they retreated from the lounge. Her muscles felt coiled, as if waiting to propel her into flight. Being face to face with a conscious Robert Fischer had not been part of their plan and it frightened her more than she wanted to admit.
"Arthur!"
Arthur made no reaction, but Ariadne could not help but flinch, giving them away. Three steps later Eames was on them, and he snatched Arthur's arm. "Arthur!"
Arthur let her go, and was as cool as ever as they faced Eames together. "Eames. I thought you were in Munich."
"I thought you were in Paris," Eames replied shortly. His temper, though restrained, was sharp and intimidating. "What are you doing here?"
"We're visiting Cobb," Arthur lied easily. "Philipa's birthday is coming up but I won't be able to make it for the actual day, so we came early."
"That's funny." Eames shoved his fists in his pockets. "Because I'm meeting Cobb tomorrow, and he didn't mention you."
Ariadne straightened. "It's a surprise."
Eames's attention shifted to her. She tried to hold her own against his unexpectedly penetrating stare, but she was no match for such a seasoned con. He smiled without humor. "I hope you know what you're getting into by being here with him, love," he said coldly.
Ariadne felt Arthur tense at her side. "I do," she said before he could intervene. "And I know what you think he did, but you're wrong. Arthur didn't--"
Eames raised a hand. "Spare me, please. All I care about right now is if you're on a job." He watched Ariadne, and her heart beat faster as if he were staring directly into it. "And who your mark is."
"None of your business," Arthur said. "Unless you're working for Thomas Uriel."
"Uriel? The importer?"
"That would be him."
Eames was quiet a moment, looking more and more like a cautious predator. For the first time in Ariadne's memory she felt uncomfortable under his heavy gaze, and was hard pressed not to back away. "You still have a lot to teach her," he murmured.
She bristled. "Eames--"
"Stay away from Robert Fisher," Eames warned with the same twisted smirk, "or I'll hunt you both down while you sleep, and toss you into Limbo myself. Understand?"
He gave Arthur's cheek a dull smack with the flat of his hand; Arthur snatched his wrist, scowling, and the pair stared each other down for a long, charged moment. Ariadne shifted on her feet and ached to interfere, but then Eames wiggled his fingers, and was reluctantly let go. Malice flashed across his face as he turned and strode back across the lobby.
Ariadne let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." Arthur took her hand again and started to lead her away. "Come on, we have to switch hotels."
Ariadne glanced over her shoulder as they headed for the elevators. She watched Eames rejoin Robert; his smile was reassuring once more, his manners light, and when Robert fidgeted anxiously he lifted his hand, running it smoothly up the line of Robert's spine to the back of his neck.
"Did you see that?" Ariadne hissed.
"What?"
"He touched him."
Arthur's brow furrowed, but he did not break stride. "Who did?"
"Eames..." They stopped at the elevator, and as Arthur pressed the button she looked over her shoulder again. Eames and Robert were still standing close together, and Ariadne's breath caught when she realized that Robert was in turn watching her and Arthur. As hostile as Eames's eyes had been a moment ago, they paled in comparison to the bitter distrust carved into Robert's. His glare was almost hypnotizing in its unblinking animosity, and as Ariadne let herself be tugged into the elevator, her stomach churned in recognition of the searing emotion beneath it.
"Arthur." She squeezed his hand urgently. "I think there's more going on here than we know."
The elevator doors closed, blocking out his stare, but she could still feel it on her skin.
To Chapter 8
Fandom: Inception
Title: The Helix Trap
Chapter: 7/19 (4,143 words) (For other parts please check my My main post.
Rating: R
Pairings/Characters: Eames/Robert, Arthur/Ariadne, Cobb, Yusuf, Saito, Browning, and others.
Warnings: Violence, sexual content.
Disclaimer: These characters and setting do not belong to me and are being used without permission but for no profit
Summary: After the Inception proves successful, Eames tracks down Robert out of concern for its unusual side effects. Meanwhile, Arthur is hired to a dangerous job that forces the rest of the team to take sides: whether to defend Robert and his fragile mind, or ruin him completely.
Notes: C&C Welcome and appreciated. Thanks to my beta
chypie for her input!Ariadne peered through the glass at the evening Los Angeles scenery flashing by. "I didn't think I'd be back here so soon," she said thoughtfully. She snorted. "And I'll be back to Paris in time for my exam."
Seated next to her in the taxi, Arthur smiled. "Will you need me to help you cram?" he offered.
"I feel like I've been cramming all week." She gave her eyes a brief rub. "My brain's so full of information it's going to pop sooner or later. I can't believe it's already here."
"You'll be fine. I know you're ready."
His fingertips brushed the back of her palm, and she glanced to him, smiling in appreciation of his compliment. It's only been a week, but we've spent five times that in training, thanks to Yusuf's compounds, she thought. And after tomorrow...it could be over again. She turned her hand, giving Arthur's a squeeze before he could get away. "I know," she said. "You're a good teacher."
The taxi dropped them off at their hotel, and after they checked in they moved to their room on the seventh floor. By then Ariadne was starving but feeling clean after the long flight took precedence, and Arthur agreed to wait while she showered.
Two full levels, each the size of a city. When she closed her eyes against the shower spray she could see them, and her lips moved as she recited the details to herself. Five points, one at the center. Fifteen connecting tunnels. Thirty-two floors in the tower. She took in a deep breath and reached for the shampoo. She was confident in her ability to recreate her dream to perfection, and trusted Nash to do the same, but knowing what was at stake still made her nervous. Even more intimidating was the threat of Robert's projections.
Ariadne held her hands up in front of her, going through the motions Arthur had taught her: loading her handgun, bracing herself to parry a punch, programming their escape vehicle. She had done each so many times during her training that they felt engrained on her subconscious, yet she still wasn't sure she was ready, as often as Arthur assured her.
Arthur. She shook herself and went about actually washing. I hope he's ready for this, too.
Once finished, she poked through her bag and smiled to herself as she pulled out her new outfit: a cool gray suit coat and matching skirt, a white blouse, and a delicate blue scarf. She had picked it out just before leaving Paris, making it the most expensive outfit she had ever owned. Maybe it's not appropriate if we're just going to get dinner and go to bed, but...I ought to get his opinion before tomorrow, right? Ariadne smiled to herself and got dressed.
She exited the bathroom and found Arthur sitting at the desk, frowning intensely at his laptop screen. When she had stood patiently waiting for him to notice her for too long, she frowned, and moved closer. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing, yet." Arthur didn't look up, clicking around his screen. "But I just learned that Saito is in the country."
"Saito?" Ariadne stopped behind him and put a hand on his chair. "That's not totally unusual, is it? I'm sure he owns an American airline or two."
"Yes, but I have a bad feeling about this. I don't think he was scheduled to be in Los Angeles this week."
Ariadne shifted her weight to her other foot. "But there's no way he could know about the job, right? If only the five of us and Mr. Browning know."
"You're right." He glanced back at her. "I'm probably worrying over nothing, but..."
He paused and looked at her again, finally noticing her attire. His eyes widened and he pushed his chair back so he could get a better view. Ariadne smiled, watching him take in the sophisticated cut of her suit, and especially the way the jacket was tailored at her slender waist.
"What's all this?" he asked, looking as if he were fighting back a grin.
"All what?" Ariadne replied innocently. She fingered the scarf at her neckline. "I dress like this all the time."
Arthur's fingers flexed against the armrest, as if wishing something else were beneath them. She was expecting some kind of tease but when he replied, it was with sincerity. "It looks good on you," he said.
Ariadne blushed. "I figured if we're infiltrating Fischer's home, I should at least look like I could belong there," she explained, fussing with the hem of her jacket. "Think it'll do the job?"
"And then some." He stood, and seemed to debate with himself a moment before reaching out to tug the seams on her shoulders. "You got it in Paris?"
"Yeah. I used some of my money from the last job." She tucked her still damp hair behind her ears. "So you like it?"
Arthur's expression made it clear she was understating his opinion. His mouth worked and he finally admitted, "You look beautiful."
"Thank you." Her ears burned, and she turned away before she could let him embarrass her too badly. "So have you heard from the others?"
"Yes, I was just on the phone with Yusuf." He continued to admire her as she moved away. "He and Nash are in the hotel down the street. Dr. Banks has her own place in the city, so she'll meet up with us at Fischer's place in the morning. Browning's promised us a three hour window to work with--it should be plenty of time."
Ariadne sat down on the edge of her bed. "Think there's any chance we'll get caught?" she asked.
"No." Arthur's answer came not too quickly nor too delayed, making it perfectly believable. "Security will all be Browning's people. Even if we're seen entering and leaving, no one will know a crime's been committed until days after we're gone, if ever." His lip quirked. "That's the advantage of dream crime."
"I guess." Talk of the job sobered her, setting aside her girlish concerns about her outfit. "This is really going to work, isn't it?" she asked quietly.
He tilted his head to the side. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"No--not really." She tried to shrug the anxious bubble out of her stomach. "But I do feel bad for Fischer. Don't you? I mean, at least a little?"
He frowned, and the silence that filled the room while he hesitated to answer made her nervous. "It doesn't matter if I do," he concluded finally. "Back when we first started planning the inception I'd already convinced myself he wasn't going to survive for long afterwards. In fact..." He stood and moved closer. "If Saito had instead asked for a hit, I probably would have done it, if it meant getting Cobb back to his kids. Anything we do to Fischer now isn't as bad as that."
Ariadne felt a chill. "Have you done that before?" she asked, even if she didn't really want to know the answer. "I didn't think assassination was part of dream crime."
"It's not. Not usually." He sat down next to her. "That's another reason why I prefer it. But I can't say people don't get killed, or that I haven't been the one to pull the trigger."
She knew better than to try and imagine it. "This is such a surreal conversation," she said. "I feel like I should be freaking out right now, but it was only last week that I shot you in the head--you know, in the dream. It doesn't quite seem real."
"Somnacin will do that to you," Arthur replied. "That's why the totems are so important." He moved to his suitcase on the opposite bed, and while his back was turned Ariadne discreetly fingered the bishop in her pocket. "I have something for you."
"For me?" She perked, grateful for the change of subject. "What is it?"
"I got it just before we left Paris." Arthur dug through his things, and when he pulled out a small, shoe-box sized silver case her breath caught in her throat. "I think you know what this is," he said.
Ariadne stared, speechless, as he returned to her side and offered her the gift. Her fingertips tingled when she accepted. Bracing the case on her knees she opened it, eyes wide and beaming as she looked over the half-sized PASIV, its timer, its needles, its twin glass bottles.
"It only connects two," Arthur explained as she poured over the device. "It's not legal for you to have it, so you shouldn't be inviting other people to use it anyway. If you use it less than a few hours a week, the Somnacin in there will last for about six to eight weeks. After that you'll have to set something up with Yusuf to get more." He smiled dryly. "We've been using his special mix so much lately, I don't think the normal black market Somnacin will be enough for you."
Ariadne licked her lips. My own PASIV. I can keep dreaming, even after this job is done. She took in a deep breath, and when she realized how tight her chest suddenly felt, she closed the PASIV lid with a snap. "You're making me feel like a drug addict," she joked, running her hands over the smooth surface. "But this is amazing, thank you. I was worried I'd..."
She trailed off as a disquieting thought entered her brain. Arthur tried to read it out of her face and missed the mark. "That after this job was over, you'd never get to use one again?" he guessed. "Cobb was right about you--you're good at this, and you don't want to give it up."
Ariadne frowned down at her blurry reflection on the case. "Well...yes, but..."
He stood again, and retrieved his suit out of his luggage. "I know how it feels," he continued as he moved to hang it up in the closet. "You could say I was hooked after my very first time. The things you can do in there, the things you can make..." He ran his hands over the front of his jacket lapel, his eyes focused on some distant memory. "I know I'll never be able to give it up. At this point, I don't think you will either. It would be a good idea if you got a legal PASIV license, but in the meantime, that should tide you over."
Ariadne set the device on the bed behind her; some of the charm was already wearing off. "Does this mean I can't use yours anymore?"
"Hm?"
She left the bed and moved to stand in front of him, stealing his full attention away from his wardrobe. "Is this your way of getting rid of me?" she asked bluntly.
"What?" Arthur looked genuinely taken aback, which made her feel somewhat better. "No--that's not what I--"
"Because I get it, I really do," Ariadne continued. It needs to be said. "I know you're trying to protect me from this crazy dream crime life you all live. And honestly I don't know if I want to be part of it anyway. Well, more than I already am." She shook her head. "But if you think I'm going along with this insanity because it's the only way I can get my hands on your little dream box, that's not what this is about."
"My little dream box?" he repeated with raised eyebrows.
She glared. "You know what I mean."
Thankfully, he killed his amusement enough to answer with due seriousness. "I do," he said. "But I know what dreamshare means to you, and I want you to have options." He set his hand on her shoulder. "Once this job is over, if you want to go back to your normal, legal life, you can. If you want to work with me again, we can work something out. Either way, I don't want you to have to choose between dreamshare and the rest of your life."
Ariadne plucked the hand off her shoulder and nudged it to her waist. "Or...between my real life, and you?" she supposed.
Color tinged his cheeks, and before he could form a reply she rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. She had intended it to be just a gentle invitation, to assure him that his attention to her hadn't gone unnoticed; but when she started to withdraw, his mouth chased hers. His hand tightened at her waist and he kissed her back with unexpected passion. Though surprised by the fervent weight of his lips, Ariadne did her best to meet him in kind. He was warm, and sincere, and it made her pulse flutter.
Arthur's other hand rose to her hip, and she found herself being tugged--her back struck the closet door with an unnerving rattle that startled her out of the kiss. She turned her head and Arthur's still-eager mouth skated along her jaw, sending goose bumps rippling down her skin. She pressed her hands to his chest, and though the taut stretch of muscle beneath her fingers thrilled her, she couldn't help but be intimidated by the tension she felt from his body leaning into hers.
As soon as Arthur realized that she was shrinking back, he stopped. His ears flushed and he started to pull away awkwardly. "Ari--"
Ariadne cut him off with a laugh. Her chest was tight but she smiled up at him, wanting to reassure him before he got the wrong idea. "Been holding that in for a while, huh?" she teased.
He let his breath out in a relieved, embarrassed sigh. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay," she said quickly, her cheeks reddening as well. "Really, it is. I'm glad we...cleared that up." Her hands were still on his chest, and she gave it a gentle rub before easing him back. "I guess this means that after this job is over, it might occur to you to contact me?"
He smiled and stepped back. "The warehouse is still paid up," he said. "No reason to leave Paris now."
"Good." Something she told herself was excitement bubbled in her stomach as she straightened her blouse and retrieved her purse. "Let's get something to eat," she suggested. "The lounge should be open for a while longer. I'd rather do that than the restaurant or the bar."
"Sounds good." Still looking uncharacteristically bashful, Arthur opened the door for her. As they left the room she took his hand loosely in hers, and let their fingers mingle all the way down the hall.
I guess this is our first date, she thought, smiling shyly to herself as they stepped off the elevator. Not how I planned to handle this, but he likes me, so...why not? His hand was warm against hers and when he snuck a glance at her, so were his eyes. It made her feel years younger, in a good and slightly less good way.
"Since we're in town," she said as they took a seat at a small table in the lounge, "are you going to call Cobb while we're here? If he finds out you were in Los Angeles and didn't say anything, he'll be mad."
Arthur frowned. "How would he find out?"
His answer came too quickly, and Ariadne purses her lips. "Are you still worried about Eames?" she asked in a quieter tone.
"No," he said, again too quickly. "He respects Cobb--he won't go out of his way to hurt him." He stared with forced fascination at the salt and pepper shakers, but Ariadne's continued stare broke him down soon enough. "I'll tell Cobb myself, eventually. It's not the right time now."
Is there ever a right time to risk a friendship? As much as she wanted to tell him to get it over with, she knew better. Even watching his downturned eyes broke her heart a little. "You miss him already, don't you?"
Arthur smiled wryly. "He's not dead, he's retired," he said. "I plan on staying in touch."
"But it won't be the same," Ariadne pressed. "He told me he was going to give up his PASIV, even."
"It'll be good for him. And for me--I know I need to stop relying on him."
A server came over to ask for their orders, and as Arthur gave his Ariadne glanced over the hotel lobby. It's none of my business, really, she thought. But I want them to stay friends. It's important to Arthur.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she spotted a familiar figure stepping out of the elevator they had occupied only a minute earlier. Her heart jumped into her throat. "Arthur."
The hint of panic in her tone caught his attention, and he quickly followed her gaze. He smothered a curse against the back of his palm.
**
"I'm in the lobby now," Eames said into his cell phone as he made his way across the tile floor. He was dressed casually in brown and his messenger bag held the familiar weight of his PASIV. "Don't tell me you came right from the airfield. I said I could meet you at your place."
"No," Robert replied swiftly. "Stay there--I'm coming in."
Eames wasn't sure whether to smile or frown as he was hung up on, though he couldn't blame Robert for his eagerness. He had spent the entire last week with almost nothing else on his mind, going over everything he had learned in Robert's dreams and trying to think of their options. More than once he had awoken to the illusion that a warm body was nestled beside him, or that a veiled figure was retreating into the shadows. He was fairly certain that he was getting too caught up in his own curiosity, and that he would have pinwheels turning in his brain before long.
The hotel doorman moved to the entrance, and was almost bowled over by the man entering swiftly through it. Though there was no mistaking Robert's wide blue eyes, he was almost rendered unrecognizable by the alterations to his appearance: he was wearing dark, tight-fitting jeans, and a green jacket with too many pockets over a plain T-shirt. His uncommonly casual attire was topped with a cap that only barely disguised the fact that his hair had received a drastic cut as well.
Robert glanced left and right, his manner impatient. When he spotted Eames across the lobby he went rigid, and Eames could almost sense the heavy thump of his heart. He strode forward with such swift certainty that it seemed a collision was imminent, but then he stopped short. "Eames."
"Look at you," Eames greeted, smiling despite the contagious nature of Robert's breathless intensity. "Quite a different take on the Robert Fischer I last saw."
"This isn't me," Robert replied sharply. He was tense, shifting underneath his skin like a snake trying to molt. "I just couldn't wear that god damn suit anymore."
"It's fine. I like it." Eames offered his hand. "It's good to see--"
Robert snatched his hand up and shook it vigorously. "I thought you might not come," he said. "I almost didn't myself. But then I realized I'd like to sleep at some point in the rest of my life, so...here I am."
Uh-oh. Eames looked again and noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "You haven't been sleeping...at all?"
"No. Well." Robert shook his head distractedly. "All right, maybe two or three hours a night. Some nights. But that's what coffee is for, isn't it?"
He's getting worse, Eames thought, frowning at the cold fingers that were still clamped around his. He needs help--more than I can give him. "I want to hear all about it," he said, "but not over coffee. Let's find somewhere a bit more private than this."
He started to herd them toward the exit, but Robert planted his feet. "No--let's go to your room," he said.
"But you just landed, didn't you? Don't you want to stop home first, to--"
"No." Robert looked around the lobby again in paranoia. "Peter's been warning my security about not letting me have guests. Someone will be watching the condo. Just let me..."
He trailed off, his attention caught by something apparently so fascinating that he had to lean around Eames to continue watching. Eames frowned. "What?"
"I know them," Robert murmured.
Eames turned, and noticed a man and a woman heading for the elevators. The slick brown hair of the former was instantly recognizable to him, and heat flared through his veins at the sight. He passed his satchel to Robert. "Mind waiting here a moment? Thank you."
**
Ariadne kept a tight grip on Arthur's hand as they retreated from the lounge. Her muscles felt coiled, as if waiting to propel her into flight. Being face to face with a conscious Robert Fischer had not been part of their plan and it frightened her more than she wanted to admit.
"Arthur!"
Arthur made no reaction, but Ariadne could not help but flinch, giving them away. Three steps later Eames was on them, and he snatched Arthur's arm. "Arthur!"
Arthur let her go, and was as cool as ever as they faced Eames together. "Eames. I thought you were in Munich."
"I thought you were in Paris," Eames replied shortly. His temper, though restrained, was sharp and intimidating. "What are you doing here?"
"We're visiting Cobb," Arthur lied easily. "Philipa's birthday is coming up but I won't be able to make it for the actual day, so we came early."
"That's funny." Eames shoved his fists in his pockets. "Because I'm meeting Cobb tomorrow, and he didn't mention you."
Ariadne straightened. "It's a surprise."
Eames's attention shifted to her. She tried to hold her own against his unexpectedly penetrating stare, but she was no match for such a seasoned con. He smiled without humor. "I hope you know what you're getting into by being here with him, love," he said coldly.
Ariadne felt Arthur tense at her side. "I do," she said before he could intervene. "And I know what you think he did, but you're wrong. Arthur didn't--"
Eames raised a hand. "Spare me, please. All I care about right now is if you're on a job." He watched Ariadne, and her heart beat faster as if he were staring directly into it. "And who your mark is."
"None of your business," Arthur said. "Unless you're working for Thomas Uriel."
"Uriel? The importer?"
"That would be him."
Eames was quiet a moment, looking more and more like a cautious predator. For the first time in Ariadne's memory she felt uncomfortable under his heavy gaze, and was hard pressed not to back away. "You still have a lot to teach her," he murmured.
She bristled. "Eames--"
"Stay away from Robert Fisher," Eames warned with the same twisted smirk, "or I'll hunt you both down while you sleep, and toss you into Limbo myself. Understand?"
He gave Arthur's cheek a dull smack with the flat of his hand; Arthur snatched his wrist, scowling, and the pair stared each other down for a long, charged moment. Ariadne shifted on her feet and ached to interfere, but then Eames wiggled his fingers, and was reluctantly let go. Malice flashed across his face as he turned and strode back across the lobby.
Ariadne let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." Arthur took her hand again and started to lead her away. "Come on, we have to switch hotels."
Ariadne glanced over her shoulder as they headed for the elevators. She watched Eames rejoin Robert; his smile was reassuring once more, his manners light, and when Robert fidgeted anxiously he lifted his hand, running it smoothly up the line of Robert's spine to the back of his neck.
"Did you see that?" Ariadne hissed.
"What?"
"He touched him."
Arthur's brow furrowed, but he did not break stride. "Who did?"
"Eames..." They stopped at the elevator, and as Arthur pressed the button she looked over her shoulder again. Eames and Robert were still standing close together, and Ariadne's breath caught when she realized that Robert was in turn watching her and Arthur. As hostile as Eames's eyes had been a moment ago, they paled in comparison to the bitter distrust carved into Robert's. His glare was almost hypnotizing in its unblinking animosity, and as Ariadne let herself be tugged into the elevator, her stomach churned in recognition of the searing emotion beneath it.
"Arthur." She squeezed his hand urgently. "I think there's more going on here than we know."
The elevator doors closed, blocking out his stare, but she could still feel it on her skin.
To Chapter 8
