will you remember me in the morning
Title: Between Dreaming and Reality
Fandom: Inception
Warnings: PG
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: Ariadne pieces together memories and dreams and tries to walk the fine line between reality and the dreamscape
"Arthur," Ariadne mutters and turns around.
Her eyes dart down the corridor. She see's the marble floors and the projections walking towards her.
There is no reply.
-
She remembers their kiss. Sitting in his subconscious learning the parameters of the dreamscape and Robert Fischer's mind.
It was simple then.
It is simple now.
Four missed calls, eleven voice mail messages and still no reply.
She starts to think she imagined the whole thing.
-
Arthur's writing. Arthur's suit. Arthur's totem.
But no Arthur.
-
The next time she sees him is in Luxembourg.
She is finishing her dissertation and he is starting a job.
Converging on two different timelines.
He asks her to coffee and she accepts.
As they walk down the street, the chit chat slows to uncomfortable silence.
Ariadne remembers then, that she can't remember how she got there.
-
She wakes up and while it all felt real in the dream, she remembers it's not.
There is no smell. His voice isn't the same.
He's fading in her memory and his projection is weathering in the same fashion.
The PASIV burns faintly in her arm.
-
In idle moments between completing her unfinished thesis and trying to complete her resume (when you can't write: I've built whole cities, anything else seems ridiculously insignificant.) she imagines ways Arthur would pop into her life.
He could be standing in front of her apartment one day. It would be just like Arthur. Quiet, reserved, displaced in a crisp suit and tie against the urban sprawl of the ninth arrondissement. .
She could suddenly get a mysterious job offer and discover, quite coincidentally that he was the Point Man and had asked specifically for the gifted architect. .
He could appear at her University, talking to Miles and she'd slip in, early for a lesson and he'd smile at her, things would transverse to dinner and then to her apartment.
Or, her favourite, a mysterious letter would appear in his strict scrawl detailing a place and time and they would meet up in her favourite restaurant next to Sacre Coeur and it would be romantic and they'd talk about architecture and physics and dreaming.
She imagines all these encounters and they only make her feel worse.
They are, afterall, nothing but daydreams.
-
"Cobb?"
"Ariadne," He says.
Was he expecting someone else?
"So.."
He repeats her sentiment and he sounds mildly irritated.
"Was there a specific reason for your call?"
She frowns.
"How are the children?"
"They're fine."
"How's Eames?"
"I haven't spoken to him since.. "
Ariadne nods despite the means of communication.
"And Arthur?"
"I think he's working a job."
"Oh, okay. Thanks Cobb."
"Not a problem. I have to go.."
She cuts the phone call before he has the chance to increase the tension any further.
-
It is a prison.
And that instantly tells her that it is not her own creation. Prison's were too predictable. It was much too cliché to give a prison an escape route.
"I hope you'll understand, we had to bring you here."
He doesn't expect a response, obviously, because the gag is cutting into her teeth. Her mouth is dry.
"You see, we're in need of an Architect. But not just any Architect."
Her eyes dart frantically at her captures and she whimpers.
"And we believe you can do the job."
She thinks mildly that they don't realise she's not some impertinent, fragile woman they can intimidate.
"We believe we'll be able to strike a deal."
-
Arthur's eyes droop. Crusted blood is paste on his face.
He looks like a doll, slumped and discarded in the low cell light.
She tries to rip herself from the burly man behind her.
They laugh.
She cries.
There is nothing romantic about this rendezvous.
-
They sit her down and for days on end she builds them levels. Simple things. Stupid things.
She starts with a set of penrose steps.
They seem smug with her defeat and they take off her restraints.
She traps them in a devil's pitchfork and she runs to find where they've left Arthur.
Whosever projections their in are armed and militarized, sprinting after her as she dashes up the staircase escape she created in this level.
She runs and runs and she keeps building mazes to trap them in, until she finds him.
A gun finds itself in her hand and she shoots him before he looks up at her.
The second shot is only for herself.
-
They wake up in a sweltering hotel and Ariadne doesn't look at Arthur as she rips the IV from her arm.
"We have to get out of here."
He opens the door for her and then they start running.
-
She remembers or rather realises the sequential steps she took to get where she is.
She holds the Bishop.
It doesn't feel quite right.
Chronology doesn't seem to make sense and the normal reversal of steps taken only adds to her confusion.
The bishop stands.
She hits it.
It...
-
He hasn't spoken at all and as they pass over their forged passports (courtesy of a friend of a friend of Cobb's), she wonders if he's angry at her.
"You should've called."
"Excuse me?"
Ariadne is affronted.
"You know my number."
"Don't act all coy."
She ignores him.
She likes the Arthur of her projections so much better.
-
Weathered, frayed, the pieces of Arthur she remembers are fading. Like her memories.
She's getting old and the time she sedates herself are so much longer than before.
The Fischer job was a long time ago.
-
The train stops and Eames meets them at the station.
"Only because I like you so much, Ariadne. White collar over there, I wouldn't have bothered. I quite enjoy making him sweat."
She manages a smile.
She still feels the slight burn just below her jaw where she shot herself.
-
Arthur readjust his collar.
Ariadne watches.
Just to the left of his heart, he pulls on the lapel.
Just to the left of his heart, she pulled the trigger.
-
Fitful sleep. Sleepness nights. Barely making it through the whole night.
She wakes in a cold sweat.
His breathing is uneven.
He heard her wake.
-
They sit in the hotel room and she smiles at something he has said.
They have not spoken of the 'day'.
Arthur knows something is wrong but he doesn't want to ask. Or he doesn't care.
-
The Pointman is meticulous.
He sweeps their room for prints and leaves a false track.
She glances over her shoulder every couple of moments as they walk briskly before he takes her hand and leads her toward the black sedan parked outside.
"It'll be alright."
-
They sit in the car and she has not let go of his hand.
They drive to Denmark and his fingers, laced through hers. They were cool and despite past awkwardness, they are reassuring.
-
Copenhagen looms beautifully and magnificently.
She remembers the road trip, she remembers his smell, she remembers him.
Arthur hands her a cup of coffee and they sit outside the petrol station.
"I want to thank you."
She sips. It is hot.
"For?"
"That day."
His lips purse and she realises that it wasn't that he didn't care. It still haunts him.
Without knowing, her fingers touch the faint twitch beneath her jaw and she tries not to flinch.
"How did you get there?"
Arthur shrugs.
"The thugs were vengeful bodyguards. Extraction gone wrong," He says for explanation.
"Do you remember how you got here?"
She nods.
She remembers the car trip, she remembers the coffee and as she holds her totem in her hand.
She recalls it's weight.
It's all a little more normal.
It tips and falls.
They get up and Arthur takes his hand in her's, opening the car with the remote.
"Where are we going now?"
"I don't know."
For once he doesn't have an answer.
For the first time, she favours the Arthur of her world.
The totem tips and falls.
Fandom: Inception
Warnings: PG
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: Ariadne pieces together memories and dreams and tries to walk the fine line between reality and the dreamscape
"Arthur," Ariadne mutters and turns around.
Her eyes dart down the corridor. She see's the marble floors and the projections walking towards her.
There is no reply.
-
She remembers their kiss. Sitting in his subconscious learning the parameters of the dreamscape and Robert Fischer's mind.
It was simple then.
It is simple now.
Four missed calls, eleven voice mail messages and still no reply.
She starts to think she imagined the whole thing.
-
Arthur's writing. Arthur's suit. Arthur's totem.
But no Arthur.
-
The next time she sees him is in Luxembourg.
She is finishing her dissertation and he is starting a job.
Converging on two different timelines.
He asks her to coffee and she accepts.
As they walk down the street, the chit chat slows to uncomfortable silence.
Ariadne remembers then, that she can't remember how she got there.
-
She wakes up and while it all felt real in the dream, she remembers it's not.
There is no smell. His voice isn't the same.
He's fading in her memory and his projection is weathering in the same fashion.
The PASIV burns faintly in her arm.
-
In idle moments between completing her unfinished thesis and trying to complete her resume (when you can't write: I've built whole cities, anything else seems ridiculously insignificant.) she imagines ways Arthur would pop into her life.
He could be standing in front of her apartment one day. It would be just like Arthur. Quiet, reserved, displaced in a crisp suit and tie against the urban sprawl of the ninth arrondissement. .
She could suddenly get a mysterious job offer and discover, quite coincidentally that he was the Point Man and had asked specifically for the gifted architect. .
He could appear at her University, talking to Miles and she'd slip in, early for a lesson and he'd smile at her, things would transverse to dinner and then to her apartment.
Or, her favourite, a mysterious letter would appear in his strict scrawl detailing a place and time and they would meet up in her favourite restaurant next to Sacre Coeur and it would be romantic and they'd talk about architecture and physics and dreaming.
She imagines all these encounters and they only make her feel worse.
They are, afterall, nothing but daydreams.
-
"Cobb?"
"Ariadne," He says.
Was he expecting someone else?
"So.."
He repeats her sentiment and he sounds mildly irritated.
"Was there a specific reason for your call?"
She frowns.
"How are the children?"
"They're fine."
"How's Eames?"
"I haven't spoken to him since.. "
Ariadne nods despite the means of communication.
"And Arthur?"
"I think he's working a job."
"Oh, okay. Thanks Cobb."
"Not a problem. I have to go.."
She cuts the phone call before he has the chance to increase the tension any further.
-
It is a prison.
And that instantly tells her that it is not her own creation. Prison's were too predictable. It was much too cliché to give a prison an escape route.
"I hope you'll understand, we had to bring you here."
He doesn't expect a response, obviously, because the gag is cutting into her teeth. Her mouth is dry.
"You see, we're in need of an Architect. But not just any Architect."
Her eyes dart frantically at her captures and she whimpers.
"And we believe you can do the job."
She thinks mildly that they don't realise she's not some impertinent, fragile woman they can intimidate.
"We believe we'll be able to strike a deal."
-
Arthur's eyes droop. Crusted blood is paste on his face.
He looks like a doll, slumped and discarded in the low cell light.
She tries to rip herself from the burly man behind her.
They laugh.
She cries.
There is nothing romantic about this rendezvous.
-
They sit her down and for days on end she builds them levels. Simple things. Stupid things.
She starts with a set of penrose steps.
They seem smug with her defeat and they take off her restraints.
She traps them in a devil's pitchfork and she runs to find where they've left Arthur.
Whosever projections their in are armed and militarized, sprinting after her as she dashes up the staircase escape she created in this level.
She runs and runs and she keeps building mazes to trap them in, until she finds him.
A gun finds itself in her hand and she shoots him before he looks up at her.
The second shot is only for herself.
-
They wake up in a sweltering hotel and Ariadne doesn't look at Arthur as she rips the IV from her arm.
"We have to get out of here."
He opens the door for her and then they start running.
-
She remembers or rather realises the sequential steps she took to get where she is.
She holds the Bishop.
It doesn't feel quite right.
Chronology doesn't seem to make sense and the normal reversal of steps taken only adds to her confusion.
The bishop stands.
She hits it.
It...
-
He hasn't spoken at all and as they pass over their forged passports (courtesy of a friend of a friend of Cobb's), she wonders if he's angry at her.
"You should've called."
"Excuse me?"
Ariadne is affronted.
"You know my number."
"Don't act all coy."
She ignores him.
She likes the Arthur of her projections so much better.
-
Weathered, frayed, the pieces of Arthur she remembers are fading. Like her memories.
She's getting old and the time she sedates herself are so much longer than before.
The Fischer job was a long time ago.
-
The train stops and Eames meets them at the station.
"Only because I like you so much, Ariadne. White collar over there, I wouldn't have bothered. I quite enjoy making him sweat."
She manages a smile.
She still feels the slight burn just below her jaw where she shot herself.
-
Arthur readjust his collar.
Ariadne watches.
Just to the left of his heart, he pulls on the lapel.
Just to the left of his heart, she pulled the trigger.
-
Fitful sleep. Sleepness nights. Barely making it through the whole night.
She wakes in a cold sweat.
His breathing is uneven.
He heard her wake.
-
They sit in the hotel room and she smiles at something he has said.
They have not spoken of the 'day'.
Arthur knows something is wrong but he doesn't want to ask. Or he doesn't care.
-
The Pointman is meticulous.
He sweeps their room for prints and leaves a false track.
She glances over her shoulder every couple of moments as they walk briskly before he takes her hand and leads her toward the black sedan parked outside.
"It'll be alright."
-
They sit in the car and she has not let go of his hand.
They drive to Denmark and his fingers, laced through hers. They were cool and despite past awkwardness, they are reassuring.
-
Copenhagen looms beautifully and magnificently.
She remembers the road trip, she remembers his smell, she remembers him.
Arthur hands her a cup of coffee and they sit outside the petrol station.
"I want to thank you."
She sips. It is hot.
"For?"
"That day."
His lips purse and she realises that it wasn't that he didn't care. It still haunts him.
Without knowing, her fingers touch the faint twitch beneath her jaw and she tries not to flinch.
"How did you get there?"
Arthur shrugs.
"The thugs were vengeful bodyguards. Extraction gone wrong," He says for explanation.
"Do you remember how you got here?"
She nods.
She remembers the car trip, she remembers the coffee and as she holds her totem in her hand.
She recalls it's weight.
It's all a little more normal.
It tips and falls.
They get up and Arthur takes his hand in her's, opening the car with the remote.
"Where are we going now?"
"I don't know."
For once he doesn't have an answer.
For the first time, she favours the Arthur of her world.
The totem tips and falls.