Even Lovers Drown, 4/4. NC-17
Title: Even Lovers Drown
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames (and all permutations within the trio)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. Written for the 2013 Reverse Bang in response to piece #203, beautifulweddin's art. Incorporates the inception_kink meme prompt in round 20: Eames has always used forging as his totem. Concerned that Ariadne, new to dreaming, is being taught to rely on something that failed Cobb so miserably (a physical totem of reality), he takes over her tutelage and has her use her ability to fold architecture as hers.
Summary: Ariadne fell in love with dreaming and building, and was determined to stay within the business as best as she could. Falling in love with Arthur and Eames shouldn't have made that more difficult to do.
Prior chapters:
One - The Swimming Lad
Two - Body To Body
Three - Plunging Down
Four - Cruel Happiness
Following the Dublin debacle, Ariadne and Arthur stayed in Bonn. Eames left a text message on Ariadne's phone indicating he was safe; Arthur had destroyed his sim card before leaving Dublin so there was no way for Eames to contact him yet. Eames didn't know about the Bonn house, and Ariadne felt almost disloyal in keeping it a secret. Still, it was Arthur's home, and he would have to be the one to share its location if he wanted to. She understood that he was still a bit reticent around the forger, though his tangled emotions were still as clear as day to her.
"I can get us a job, probably," Arthur told her after a week. The dining room and living area had been rearranged so that Ariadne could paint the walls in muted colors. He had meant it when he told her to redecorate as she saw fit, but she couldn't quite bring herself to change over all of the furniture yet. Painting the walls had seemed like a compromise to her.
"You don't think it's too soon?"
"As far as the community is concerned, we completed the job satisfactorily. The men that hired me got what they wanted. Probably not as much detail as they wanted, but they wanted the financial data, and paid me for it. I can get something small for us to work with, so you can see what the usual jobs are like."
"A palate cleanser, so to speak?" Ariadne said with a faint smile.
"Exactly," Arthur replied, his answering smile one of approval.
Into the breach once more, then. Though this time, Ariadne firmly insisted that she was not going to go into the field. She didn't feel comfortable around firearms or dead bodies, and even if the risk of that happening again was low, she didn't want to encounter it again. Arthur understood, and found a different extractor and watchman to work with. Her part in the entire planning was short and sweet, and she spent her time gleefully planning an elaborate skyline for Arthur to dream up during the job. Via text, Eames congratulated her on the job and mentioned he was looking into one of his own.
We should meet soon, darling. Have you ever visited the tropics?
Arthur rolled his eyes when he saw the text message she showed him. "Don't tell me you want to go visit him already. Insatiable wench," he teased.
Ariadne laughed, shaking her head. "Don't tell me you don't miss the teasing."
"Actually, I don't," Arthur replied in a lofty tone. "They're professionals."
"Deadly dull, you mean," Ariadne said with a laugh.
"Yes, that, too," he agreed, grinning at her. "The job will likely take two or three weeks. You can wait that long and we'll go together, all right? I've been to Mombasa once before."
"How'd you know where he lives?"
"Rumors abound," Arthur said dryly. "No doubt started by Mr. Eames himself."
Ariadne was brimming with excitement, and decided to book the flight to Mombasa ahead of schedule. Arthur would be stuck finishing off his current job before he would join her, and he laughed at her enthusiasm. "Oh, fine, leave me here with these boring idiots. I see how it is," he teased, pulling her close for a kiss. She deepened it automatically, practically clinging to him like a second skin. "Okay. That's better."
"Your ticket's all set," she told him, gently nipping his lower lip with her teeth. "I've never been to Mombasa before. I'll get the boring touristy bits out of the way before you arrive."
"If you ever leave his bedroom," Arthur remarked dryly.
Snorting, Ariadne tightened her grip around him. "Don't be jealous. I love you, Arthur."
He picked her up off the floor a little, bringing her to eye level. His smile was wide enough to make his eyes crinkle and cheeks dimple. Ariadne loved that smile, and couldn't help but return that grin. "I know." Arthur dropped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. "I love you, too."
Arthur dropped her off at the airport and she slept through most of the flight. She wondered briefly if she should worry about not having any dreams, but brushed it off. Her nap wasn't that long or deep, and usually it took years of somnacin exposure before people stopped dreaming naturally. She had only been at it for months, though her exposure was nearly constant. Natural dreams didn't matter, anyway. It was the heightened clarity of dream share dreams that she wanted, and the dazzling landscapes and cityscapes she could build within them. Having Arthur and Eames in her life was as necessary as dreaming or breathing at this point, and the travel to cities she had only fantasized about as a girl was a bonus.
She knew where Eames lived, and had the taxi cab driver drop her off a few blocks away. At this point she knew how to double back on her route and walk in a more circuitous way toward her final destination. As much as she didn't know Mombasa at all, the winding streets had a familiar feel to them. Eames likely had pulled the city's layout into one of his training exercise dreams, because she was able to maneuver like a resident, weaving in and out of the narrow alleys with her head up high. Ariadne always carried his key with her, and she let herself in with a smile on her face. It would be a delightful surprise to have her simply show up, then Arthur's arrival the next day would be icing on the cake.
Ariadne stopped short at the doorway to his bedroom. Eames was sprawled in bed, an arm flung up near his head, a snub nose pistol inches away from his head. Curled up around his chest was a slim woman, his other arm cradling her shoulders. It was obvious neither were dressed beneath the thin sheet covering them, and they had fallen asleep after sex.
A sharp pain in her arm made Ariadne realize she had staggered into the door frame, her legs nearly crumpling beneath her. Her throat was constricted tight, and she struggled to draw breath. It felt like she was drowning, that she would never come up for air, and she didn't know which way to kick up to the surface.
Pulling the room apart by sheer force of will didn't work. Twisting the bed into looping shapes didn't work. The apartment building wasn't crashing down around her, and her bishop still weighed heavily in her pocket.
She wasn't dreaming, she was painfully awake.
Ariadne must have made a noise; Eames jerked awake and grasped the pistol, swinging it in her direction before he was even fully awake. He relaxed and smiled as soon as he saw her, putting the pistol down. "Ariadne, love," he purred, only briefly glancing down at the woman whose sleep he had disrupted. With a fond snort, he eased out of the bed and came to Ariadne. Before she could even draw a breath, he picked her up in a tight hug. "What a wonderful surprise."
"Is it?" she managed to gasp, seeing the woman yawn and stretch on the bed. God, did she have to be so curvaceous? It almost looked like Eames had borrowed some of her features for one of his female forges.
"Of course," he said, still grinning as he put her down. His reaction seemed genuine enough, but Ariadne wanted to collapse and sink through the floor. How stupid and desperate did she look just then? How much of an idiot could she be?
Eames turned and looked at the woman on the bed. "Oh. That's Katherine. She's an extractor. I don't think the two of you have met."
Katherine sat up, dragging the sheet over her chest for a modicum of decency. She mussed her already messy hair, trying to get it into a semblance of order. "No, don't think so. You must be Ariadne, yes? I'd remember you if we met before, you're cute. That must really bring out those chivalric instincts in those big, burly men, doesn't it?" she asked with a laugh, the edge of a South African accent to her vowels. "I'm Katherine," she said with a smile and a little wave, not self conscious in the least. "With a K. No Katie or Kate or Kathy or anything cute like that. Just Katherine, thanks."
"Um. Yeah, okay," Ariadne mumbled, still feeling wobbly and uncertain.
Wriggling across the bed, Katherine kept the sheet wrapped around her and yanked it off the bed when she stood up. She wrapped it around herself like a toga, grinning at the two of them. She picked up Eames' boxers. "Here, put your pants on and go entertain your friend, yeah? I can shower first and then pull some clothes on."
Eames merely laughed as he caught the boxers with one hand, the other firmly around Ariadne's shoulders. "Don't take all the hot water. Just because it's beastly hot here doesn't mean I like freezing cold showers."
Katherine rolled her eyes as she collected her clothes from where they were strewn around the room. "Drama queen, you are," she teased, grinning at him. She turned to Ariadne, the smile still on her face. "Don't mind that idiot there. He's all about the showmanship."
"You wound me," Eames returned, mockingly drawing his hand to his chest as if wounded. He still had his boxers in that fist, which Ariadne found distracting. "Perhaps I should have let Mako snatch you up on that job, then?"
She snorted and pointed her finger at his chest. "I'm more valuable to you alive, and you know it. He'd rather carve into me and leave my carcass in the desert to rot. I should just put a price on his head and be done with it." Ariadne ducked out of the doorway as Katherine approached, allowing her to pass through to the bathroom.
Ariadne looked at Katherine's back and then back at Eames. Her lungs simply couldn't draw breath, and she still had the feeling that she was out of her depth. Either Eames didn't notice, or he was blithely ignoring it. She couldn't tell which it was, which only increased her anxiety. He simply slipped the boxers back on and drew her into his living room. "Do you need a drink? You look peaky. Is Arthur about? Or still on his job?"
It sounded like the same Eames she thought she knew. It sounded like he cared about her and Arthur, that he meant he always wanted them around. He looked like himself, not guilty in the slightest for having another woman in his bed. Hell, he'd even told Katherine about her, likely about Arthur, too.
"I went ahead," Ariadne said, feeling as though her voice was distant somehow. "I doubled back and went around... No one followed me, but I thought I should..."
He didn't seem to think her faltering statements were out of place. If anything, Eames merely laughed as he went into the kitchen. "Fantastic. You've definitely taken to the lessons of real world caution well, then. I knew I didn't misplace my trust in giving you that key." He poured her iced tea with that wide, lovely grin on his face. Ariadne's gut twisted at the sight of it, and she thought her hands were shaking as she took the glass. "Katherine doesn't even have the key, you know. Just you."
It wasn't love, not the way she thought it was. He didn't see the way there were tremors in her hands, that she was devastated by him being with someone else. Now she understood why he had blithely charged into a relationship with her and Arthur. It wasn't a relationship, not the way she thought of one. This wasn't what Arthur would accept, either. It was one thing to have a tangled relationship between three people that all cared about each other and loved each other. It was another to have one of the three looser with his affections.
Okay, that wasn't fair either. But Eames didn't think they had something exclusive, had likely never thought about how deeply Ariadne and Arthur would have come to love him. It simply didn't occur to him that they had different thoughts about what they were doing.
Ariadne finished the iced tea, not tasting anything. "How did you meet her?" she asked, voice strangled. It felt stupid, making small talk while her emotions were such a riot, but he simply shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal.
"There was a job a number of years ago. She was the extractor, they needed a forger to go into a subject's mind a second time. Someone completely fucked up the first go around, I think it was the point man, personally. Needless to say, it wasn't Arthur. Anyway, that went well, so we've worked together a few times."
"And Mako?" Ariadne asked, her voice sounding more even and like herself. Something in her was breaking at the thought that Eames couldn't see her distress, that he didn't know her as well as she thought he did, or that it didn't even bother him that she was upset by Katherine's presence in his life.
"Oh, him," Eames said with a dismissive wave, laughing as he poured her another glass of iced tea. "Mako rather took exception to her beating him out on a few bids two or three years ago, something like that. He's a sulky bastard, don't ever work with him."
"Okay," Ariadne said, more for something to say. He was looking at her so intently, earnest in his admonition about this Mako character. She wanted to think he loved her, this was his way of showing it, he didn't know how else to go about it. But that was wishful thinking; Eames did care about her wellbeing, but it wasn't the same kind of love that she felt for him.
That made Eames relax, and he smiled as he handed her the other glass of iced tea. "I'm glad you're here, darling," he said, voice low and sultry. He let her drink the glass before putting it aside for her and pulling her down into his lap. "I missed you."
"Somehow I doubt that," she replied dryly, a little hurt creeping into her voice before she could stop it.
Eames laughed, shaking his head. "It's Katherine. It is what it is."
Ariadne heard the water shut off in the bathroom and sealed her lips shut so she wouldn't say anything snarky about someone she didn't even know. She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, shutting her eyes and letting the rumble of his voice wash over her as he talked about all his favorite haunts in the city. She wished she could just revel in the feel of him, clinging to her sad little fantasies of "hi, honey, I missed you!" sex and plotting ways to welcome Arthur to Mombasa. There was no graceful way to say she wanted to run back to Arthur, who at least returned her feelings the same way.
"Oh, you two are adorable," Katherine said from the doorway, sundress clinging to slightly damp skin as she toweled off her hair. "I think it's because you're like a doll," she told Ariadne with a kindly smile. In contrast, Katherine was as tall as Arthur and built like a 1950's pinup. She nodded in the direction of the bathroom. "Your turn, Eames."
With a smile, Eames gave Ariadne a fond kiss on the forehead before sliding her off of his lap. He teasingly shook his ass as he left the kitchen, making Katherine laugh and swat it with the towel. He laughed on the way to the bathroom, and Katherine draped the damp towel on the back of the chair Eames had just vacated. She looked at Ariadne closely, head tilted to the side. After a moment, her expression softened. "Oh, honey. You love him."
While she thought of denying it, there was really no point. Ariadne merely lifted her chin a notch and tried to stand taller. "I'm not the only one."
"I don't love him," Katherine said, blinking in surprise. "Is that what you think?"
She had been referring to Arthur, but she kept her mouth shut. In this business, secrets were guarded jealously and dispensed sparingly. It was too late to guard her heart against an extractor discovering its secrets, but she could spare Arthur's dignity as best as she could.
Katherine shook her head, lips curled into a sad smile. "He said you were new to this life, not long out of school." She moved to the iced tea pitcher that Eames hadn't put away and rummaged in his cupboards for another glass. Some part of Ariadne was gratified that she didn't know where they were kept, that she wasn't that good a friend of Eames'.
She paused after pouring herself a glass of the iced tea. "You can't afford attachments like that in this world, Ariadne. I can tell you that, even if it should be obvious. Sooner or later, it cuts you deeper than any knife, buries you under its own weight. Feelings are a liability most of the time, and love itself is merely suicide."
Whatever dim hope she might have had about Eames loving her back as deeply as she loved him died just then. While this was Katherine discussing emotions with her and not Eames, he was embedded in that life the same way Katherine was. He had to feel the same way about it; he had never said he loved Ariadne, never said he loved Arthur. He cared about them, he liked them, he trusted them. Perhaps that was more important, but it wasn't the same. She stubbornly clung to that one thought. Whatever he felt, it was genuine but it wasn't the same.
Disappointment was just as crushing as a physical attack.
Katherine sipped the tea slowly. "I'm sorry if I'm the first to tell you this," she said, meaning it. "I suppose you had to learn that lesson, though. Better now, when it's not your life on the line."
Or his, but Katherine didn't have to say the words.
"I suppose I should thank you," Ariadne replied somewhat stiffly. She wanted to run out the front door, call Arthur, cancel his plane tickets and book her return flight home. She had the impulse to scream and cry, carrying on like a fitful child. Dear God, Arthur. If she was devastated like this now, how would he feel?
Finishing her tea, Katherine put her glass down on the counter beside Ariadne's empty one. "Should I go, leave you two alone? I wasn't planning to stay long anyway, so it's not breaking any plans if I leave early."
She was being nice enough that Ariadne almost felt guilty for hating her. Almost.
"I arrived unannounced. I can leave." Ariadne pasted a smile on her face. "I wanted to see some of the touristy sites around here anyway."
The look on Katherine's face was pure pity, but she didn't say anything for a moment. "Your choice," she said finally. "He's good at what he does, and he can put on a good show. The bloke cares about others to a point, but not the type to love. None of us in this business are. You have to protect yourself, however you can. Love isn't enough to save you from what's out there. If you rely on that, might as well put a bullet in your head now."
Ariadne was glad she wasn't launching herself bodily at Katherine or running screaming out the front door. She still had that urge to dissolve into a puddle of tears and wallow in self pity, mourning the love she couldn't get from Eames. There was no way to make this right, was there? She was out of her depth, drowning before she even realized how far in she had gone.
The water shut off in the bathroom, and Ariadne swallowed down whatever she might have said to Katherine. She turned and started washing the glasses in the sink to give herself something to do. It was an excuse not to look at the extractor, not to compare how self confident she seemed to be, how she could handle casual affairs with such aplomb.
Katherine shrugged and picked up the towel before leaving the kitchen. Ariadne took her time in washing the glasses, but they were done quickly. She lingered uselessly, hearing the murmuring of voices in the hallway. Katherine reappeared, sailing through the living room with her strappy sandals on and a purse in hand. "Never a dull moment with you, Eames," she was saying with a smile on her face. "Keep in touch."
"Of course," he said with a smile. His hand lingered on her arm before he opened the door, but there was no kiss farewell. That had to mean something, right?
Eames went to the doorway to the kitchen, that half smile still on his face. "Katherine said there was a misunderstanding to clear up."
"Of course she did," Ariadne muttered, shaking her head. Her throat closed up again, an aching pain there that usually came when she started to cry. What use was there in trying to pin down what Eames felt? It wasn't the same for him. She mattered, Arthur mattered, but it wasn't the same thing as the desperate, soul-searing love she had.
He approached slowly, perhaps sensing that something was off about her now. She could feel his gaze, heavy and concerned, almost like an uncomfortable itch along her spine. His hand came to rest on her arm, touch gentle and supportive even though it was clear that he didn't know what was wrong. "What did she say to you?" he asked. His voice was neutral, but somehow she could tell that he was angry with Katherine.
"She just pointed out what I was too blind to see," Ariadne said finally, syllables like ashes in her mouth. "I didn't want to see it," she corrected, shaking her head and not looking up at Eames. "I was too caught up in everything. Everything we did together, it was new and fun and a distraction, right? I wanted it to mean what I wanted it to mean..."
Eames pulled over one of the chairs from his narrow table and sat down so he could be at eye level with her, though Ariadne refused to look at him. "Ariadne. Look at me."
He waited until she finally caved and looked at him, her throat closed tightly and eyes brimming with unshed tears. She wanted to say something, anything, wanted to deny that this was affecting her as much as it obviously was. Eames reached out and cupped her face in his hands, thumbs grazing her lower lip. His expression was soft, pained, and Ariadne felt her gut twist agonizingly at the thought that she was hurting him somehow. Never mind her own heart had already shattered, never mind she had fooled herself into thinking this could work out the way she had dreamed it would. She couldn't bring herself to hate Eames, even if he couldn't love her back the same way. He had never lied about his feelings, never lied about his intentions.
"You love me," he murmured softly. "And not only that, you're in love with me."
"Yes," she whispered, voice cracking.
"I'm not a good man, Ariadne. I've never been one, really."
"I know. I love you anyway."
Without another word, Eames pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, drowning in the scent of his soap and his skin. He simply held her, and Ariadne broke down in tears.
"I'm sorry," he murmured when her tears slowed. He stroked her hair, holding her shaking shoulders tight against him.
"Me, too."
"And Arthur...?"
"Yeah."
"Ah." Eames blew out a breath and turned to press a kiss to her temple.
There was nothing to say about it, was there? She had been happy, and her happiness hadn't been built on reality. It was nothing more than a dream, and even she knew that those dissolved as soon as the dreamer woke up.
"I never meant to hurt either of you. I care deeply for you, darling. Arthur's fun when he's not being a stick in the mud. I don't... I can't... I'm not who you want me to be," Eames said, settling on that phrasing after a moment. "I can be any number of people in and out of a dream, but I can't be who you need."
"And if I only need you to be who you are?"
Eames sighed and pulled her tight against him. "Don't let me destroy you, darling. You're a bright, rising star in this world. Staying with me will sour you over time."
"You're so certain of that..."
"I may not love you the way you love me, but I'm not that much of a bastard that I'd drown you in my wake. You will, if you stay with me for too long. I'm no hero, Ariadne. I don't want you hurt, but I'm not the kind to stay still. I'm not the kind to build things up. That's your forte, and it's not just dreams that you can build."
"Then can't I build this?" she asked, pulling out of his embrace.
"Ariadne," he began in a gentle voice, "you can't rebuild me. You can't turn me inside out and make me over into someone else. There isn't enough of a foundation here to work with. That's why I'm such an excellent forger. There isn't too much beneath the surface if you try to dive down deep."
"I refuse to believe that. If you were really that shallow, you wouldn't be warning me away from you. I wouldn't have fallen for you. Arthur wouldn't have fallen for you. Neither of us are so fickle that we'd walk away from someone we care about."
"But I am."
The quiet words carried the weight of truth, and that stopped her from yelling back at him. She remembered that he would have cut and run during the first level of the Fischer job. He had pulled the trigger in Dublin without remorse and hauled the body away.
Eames wasn't a good man, and was honest with himself enough to know it. There was enough decency that he was trying to warn her away from him. Arthur likely wouldn't be as disappointed when he found out about this; he had been reluctant to begin anything with the forger in the first place. He would recover, and he would try to help Ariadne through. It would hurt her in the end if she stayed, if she tried to turn a blind eye to his faults. It would kill her, leaving her drowning in misery and regrets.
She blinked away tears but more fell. She felt weak and drained, but the world refused to twist and reshape, and no sinkhole opened up beneath her.
Ariadne startled when he gently brushed his fingers against her cheek. There was that tender, soulful expression on his face. He cared and loved her, he just wasn't in love with her. Maybe it was the best that he could do.
"I'll tell Arthur, darling. I'll take care of everything."
"I'm not leaving either of you," Ariadne said in a voice just as soft as his.
"No, I don't suppose you would."
She felt like a coward when she hid in his bedroom as he called Arthur. The door didn't quite hide the low rumble of his voice. "It seems I have something to tell you," Eames began without preamble. But then, he had been so direct in Dublin when the job went south, so why wouldn't he be just as direct here?
Crawling into Eames' side of the bed, she pressed her face into his pillow to inhale the scent of him. His gun was cold and heavy in her hand, unfamiliar and awkward to hold. He had been so comfortable with it, reaching for the pistol when startled out of sleep. Eames was dangerous, involved in even more dangerous things, and it was natural for him to grab a weapon in his own home when startled. He never really let down his guard, not like she or Arthur did.
Ariadne must have fallen asleep. The shadows in the room had shifted when she woke, and she couldn't even hear Eames' voice in the living room any longer. She got up, gun still loosely held in her hand. With her left, she shoved her hair out of the way, not even caring how wild and knotted it had to be.
Eames was sprawled on his couch in the living room with a book. The window was open, fresh air wafting in and dissipating the scent of smoke from the cigarettes he had lit. "Feeling better?" he asked, looking up from the book. The title looked to be in Dutch, if she had to guess at the language, and Ariadne wondered how much she really knew about him.
"Maybe. How long was I asleep?"
"About two hours," Eames said, looking at his watch.
Some creeping instinct had Ariadne try to shift the dimensions of the room. She pulled and pushed at the walls and ceiling, but they remained in place. Eames didn't seem to notice her gaze darting about the room, as he was putting a bookmark into the book and putting it aside, near the used ceramic ashtray. "Why did you let me sleep so long?" she asked, feeling out of sorts.
His eyes flicked to the gun still in her hand. "It seemed safer to," he replied, voice a little sad. He stood and crossed the distance between them easily. His large hands closed around hers, and he took the pistol from her easily. "And you needed the rest, really. You've had quite the shock this morning, and recovery time seemed in order."
"What did Arthur say?"
"He's still coming tomorrow."
"He is?" Ariadne asked, startled. She watched him put the pistol on top of his book, as if it was an everyday occurrence. For all she knew, it was.
"No reason not to, really," Eames replied, looking back at her. She couldn't read his expression, and wished for the time when she thought she could. "And there are things to discuss, after all," he continued when she remained silent, coming back to her side. When his hands fell to her shoulders, pulling her close to him, she didn't feel overwhelmed or afraid. There was still a thrill in her gut and the hope that he was going to walk her backward to his bedroom. At the same time, Ariadne wanted to kick herself for still wanting him, still loving him so fiercely.
Eames lifted her up into his arms as easily as he always did. "But we can do something today, if you like. Arthur said you'd wanted to see the city. I take you about Old Town, go to the casinos or markets, whatever you like."
It was tempting, but it still surprised her when she heard herself say "I'd love that."
Ariadne fell into the usual way she behaved around Eames that afternoon. He was solicitous of her needs and pointed out his favorite haunts in the city. She could almost believe that the morning discovery was a dream, that her heart hadn't been shredded in her chest. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as they sat down to dinner in Eames' favorite café. He looked at her curiously, asking her with only his expression what the problem was.
"Was this morning just a dream, then?" she asked, a thread of bitterness in her voice. "I know it was real," she added hastily, sighing again. "I tested reality, and it kept coming up real, no matter how much I didn't want it to be."
He blotted his lips with his napkin carefully, likely thinking of the right words to say. "I never promised you what I couldn't give."
"I know," she murmured, looking down at her dinner plate. Her appetite was gone, despite how delicious the food had been.
"But it could be a dream, you know." He gave her a thin, pained smile at her incredulous look. "Think of what we do, Ariadne. Think of all we've done, all that's capable of being done while we're in dreams. I have a PASIV back at my flat. It could all be a dream if you want it to be, or you could make sure you wake up and you don't love me."
"Don't you dare!" she snarled, pushing at his chest. Anger spiked through her; whatever else she endured, she would rather feel the agony of that morning a thousand times over than lose the past few months.
Eames let her push him around, then gently finger combed her hair flat. "Arthur didn't think you would want to do that, either. You'd rather feel everything, even if it killed you."
Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. "Did you discuss that with Arthur?"
Eames nodded. "He said everything had to be done with your knowledge and consent. He'd gut me if I ever tried to do anything as you slept." Eames snorted as Ariadne thought Damn straight, shaking his head a little. "As if I would ever do such a thing to you."
At least she was exempt from the callous disregard he seemed to hold for most people. Ariadne was ridiculously heartened by having that kind of regard from him. "What did you think you would do? Take me down to limbo and tell me not to love you anymore?"
"Something like that. A bit more elegantly, perhaps, but it's a possibility. Then you wouldn't hurt as much as you do."
Warmth spread through her, something almost like hope. It was probably more like the burn a drowning swimmer felt from lack of oxygen, a deceptive sensation that could lull her to her doom. He might not be in love with them, but perhaps this was the only way he could really feel love for someone else. She had to hang onto that thought, no matter how desperate it sounded. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think that would work."
"Because you love me that deeply? I would think that emotion's for Arthur."
Was that jealousy? Ariadne could hope that it was, but there was no way she could really be sure without asking him, and he would never admit to it even if that was true. "Because you can't control what would happen with that suggestion. I could wake up hating you, or forgetting you ever mattered. I'd never work with you again. We'd never meet, never talk, never kiss or make love again. That isn't what you want."
"No," he admitted quietly. "But neither did I want you in pain because of me. I'm no hero, Ariadne, and I'll never be one."
"What did Arthur say, exactly?" she asked suddenly. She hadn't wanted to ask earlier, didn't want to think about how hurt or angry Arthur might be. "When you told him you weren't in love with us? What did he say to you?"
"He'd guessed," Eames replied, eyes never leaving her face. She could see the sincerity, and the fact that no earthquake rattled the café despite her urge to twist the place apart meant that this entire exchange was real.
Of course he guessed. Arthur knew far more about Eames than she did. Eames could be trusted on a job, keep secrets and was the very soul of discretion. But there was that measure of trust that Arthur simply hadn't been able to give Eames, so it wasn't a shock for him as it had been for Ariadne. She was the type to dive headlong into something without thinking of the consequences until it was far too late, but Arthur wasn't.
"There's nothing to be angry about, but I gather he was disappointed," Eames continued, sadness evident in his voice. "Nothing has to change if you don't want it to."
It went without saying that Arthur would follow her lead on this, as he had in getting involved with Eames in the first place.
"Nothing ever changed for you," Ariadne murmured.
"No, it didn't," he replied. "You need to decide what you want..." He leaned in to say something else, but their waiter came to check in on them, and the moment passed.
Neither restarted the conversation again, and Ariadne allowed herself to be pulled into his bed to sleep that night. He didn't do anything more than kiss and hold her, his heartbeat lulling her into an uneasy sleep.
She already knew what she wanted. She just wasn't going to get it.
***
Arthur arrived in Mombasa the next evening on schedule, a little tired looking but none the worse for wear. He had his usual faint smile for Eames, which broadened for Ariadne. He swept her up into his arms, holding her tightly and kissing her fiercely. "Are you all right?" he asked, leaning in close.
"I am now that you're here," Ariadne replied.
"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his arms sliding down her back. She knew that touch meant he would support her no matter what she decided. But there was no decision to be made, really. She had decided months ago what she wanted, what she thought she needed. She didn't have what she wanted, but she had something, and she wasn't about to let go of that.
"I love you, too," she said, squeezing him back tightly. Eames had hung back, giving them a respectful foot of space to greet each other. She turned toward him, a watery smile on her face. "I love both of you, God help me," she said, pulling him closer.
Eames' arms encircled Ariadne and Arthur, and she let out a soft sigh. He flashed them both his usual crookedly charming smile as he lifted his head. "Come on, then. We'll be all right. I have a number of places I wanted to show you, if you're still amenable. Let's head out."
She was being drawn further into their life, dragged down in their wake. As much as Eames had said he didn't want that to happen, she couldn't help herself. This was where he and Arthur belonged, so she would have to cherish these moments as they came. As bittersweet and razor-edged as they were, she preferred to hoard these memories than give them up.
Giving Arthur a kiss, she smiled at Eames then slid an arm around Arthur. "Yes, I'd like that."
She preferred to drown with her eyes wide open.
The End
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames (and all permutations within the trio)
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. Written for the 2013 Reverse Bang in response to piece #203, beautifulweddin's art. Incorporates the inception_kink meme prompt in round 20: Eames has always used forging as his totem. Concerned that Ariadne, new to dreaming, is being taught to rely on something that failed Cobb so miserably (a physical totem of reality), he takes over her tutelage and has her use her ability to fold architecture as hers.
Summary: Ariadne fell in love with dreaming and building, and was determined to stay within the business as best as she could. Falling in love with Arthur and Eames shouldn't have made that more difficult to do.
Prior chapters:
One - The Swimming Lad
Two - Body To Body
Three - Plunging Down
Four - Cruel Happiness
Following the Dublin debacle, Ariadne and Arthur stayed in Bonn. Eames left a text message on Ariadne's phone indicating he was safe; Arthur had destroyed his sim card before leaving Dublin so there was no way for Eames to contact him yet. Eames didn't know about the Bonn house, and Ariadne felt almost disloyal in keeping it a secret. Still, it was Arthur's home, and he would have to be the one to share its location if he wanted to. She understood that he was still a bit reticent around the forger, though his tangled emotions were still as clear as day to her.
"I can get us a job, probably," Arthur told her after a week. The dining room and living area had been rearranged so that Ariadne could paint the walls in muted colors. He had meant it when he told her to redecorate as she saw fit, but she couldn't quite bring herself to change over all of the furniture yet. Painting the walls had seemed like a compromise to her.
"You don't think it's too soon?"
"As far as the community is concerned, we completed the job satisfactorily. The men that hired me got what they wanted. Probably not as much detail as they wanted, but they wanted the financial data, and paid me for it. I can get something small for us to work with, so you can see what the usual jobs are like."
"A palate cleanser, so to speak?" Ariadne said with a faint smile.
"Exactly," Arthur replied, his answering smile one of approval.
Into the breach once more, then. Though this time, Ariadne firmly insisted that she was not going to go into the field. She didn't feel comfortable around firearms or dead bodies, and even if the risk of that happening again was low, she didn't want to encounter it again. Arthur understood, and found a different extractor and watchman to work with. Her part in the entire planning was short and sweet, and she spent her time gleefully planning an elaborate skyline for Arthur to dream up during the job. Via text, Eames congratulated her on the job and mentioned he was looking into one of his own.
We should meet soon, darling. Have you ever visited the tropics?
Arthur rolled his eyes when he saw the text message she showed him. "Don't tell me you want to go visit him already. Insatiable wench," he teased.
Ariadne laughed, shaking her head. "Don't tell me you don't miss the teasing."
"Actually, I don't," Arthur replied in a lofty tone. "They're professionals."
"Deadly dull, you mean," Ariadne said with a laugh.
"Yes, that, too," he agreed, grinning at her. "The job will likely take two or three weeks. You can wait that long and we'll go together, all right? I've been to Mombasa once before."
"How'd you know where he lives?"
"Rumors abound," Arthur said dryly. "No doubt started by Mr. Eames himself."
Ariadne was brimming with excitement, and decided to book the flight to Mombasa ahead of schedule. Arthur would be stuck finishing off his current job before he would join her, and he laughed at her enthusiasm. "Oh, fine, leave me here with these boring idiots. I see how it is," he teased, pulling her close for a kiss. She deepened it automatically, practically clinging to him like a second skin. "Okay. That's better."
"Your ticket's all set," she told him, gently nipping his lower lip with her teeth. "I've never been to Mombasa before. I'll get the boring touristy bits out of the way before you arrive."
"If you ever leave his bedroom," Arthur remarked dryly.
Snorting, Ariadne tightened her grip around him. "Don't be jealous. I love you, Arthur."
He picked her up off the floor a little, bringing her to eye level. His smile was wide enough to make his eyes crinkle and cheeks dimple. Ariadne loved that smile, and couldn't help but return that grin. "I know." Arthur dropped a kiss onto the tip of her nose. "I love you, too."
Arthur dropped her off at the airport and she slept through most of the flight. She wondered briefly if she should worry about not having any dreams, but brushed it off. Her nap wasn't that long or deep, and usually it took years of somnacin exposure before people stopped dreaming naturally. She had only been at it for months, though her exposure was nearly constant. Natural dreams didn't matter, anyway. It was the heightened clarity of dream share dreams that she wanted, and the dazzling landscapes and cityscapes she could build within them. Having Arthur and Eames in her life was as necessary as dreaming or breathing at this point, and the travel to cities she had only fantasized about as a girl was a bonus.
She knew where Eames lived, and had the taxi cab driver drop her off a few blocks away. At this point she knew how to double back on her route and walk in a more circuitous way toward her final destination. As much as she didn't know Mombasa at all, the winding streets had a familiar feel to them. Eames likely had pulled the city's layout into one of his training exercise dreams, because she was able to maneuver like a resident, weaving in and out of the narrow alleys with her head up high. Ariadne always carried his key with her, and she let herself in with a smile on her face. It would be a delightful surprise to have her simply show up, then Arthur's arrival the next day would be icing on the cake.
Ariadne stopped short at the doorway to his bedroom. Eames was sprawled in bed, an arm flung up near his head, a snub nose pistol inches away from his head. Curled up around his chest was a slim woman, his other arm cradling her shoulders. It was obvious neither were dressed beneath the thin sheet covering them, and they had fallen asleep after sex.
A sharp pain in her arm made Ariadne realize she had staggered into the door frame, her legs nearly crumpling beneath her. Her throat was constricted tight, and she struggled to draw breath. It felt like she was drowning, that she would never come up for air, and she didn't know which way to kick up to the surface.
Pulling the room apart by sheer force of will didn't work. Twisting the bed into looping shapes didn't work. The apartment building wasn't crashing down around her, and her bishop still weighed heavily in her pocket.
She wasn't dreaming, she was painfully awake.
Ariadne must have made a noise; Eames jerked awake and grasped the pistol, swinging it in her direction before he was even fully awake. He relaxed and smiled as soon as he saw her, putting the pistol down. "Ariadne, love," he purred, only briefly glancing down at the woman whose sleep he had disrupted. With a fond snort, he eased out of the bed and came to Ariadne. Before she could even draw a breath, he picked her up in a tight hug. "What a wonderful surprise."
"Is it?" she managed to gasp, seeing the woman yawn and stretch on the bed. God, did she have to be so curvaceous? It almost looked like Eames had borrowed some of her features for one of his female forges.
"Of course," he said, still grinning as he put her down. His reaction seemed genuine enough, but Ariadne wanted to collapse and sink through the floor. How stupid and desperate did she look just then? How much of an idiot could she be?
Eames turned and looked at the woman on the bed. "Oh. That's Katherine. She's an extractor. I don't think the two of you have met."
Katherine sat up, dragging the sheet over her chest for a modicum of decency. She mussed her already messy hair, trying to get it into a semblance of order. "No, don't think so. You must be Ariadne, yes? I'd remember you if we met before, you're cute. That must really bring out those chivalric instincts in those big, burly men, doesn't it?" she asked with a laugh, the edge of a South African accent to her vowels. "I'm Katherine," she said with a smile and a little wave, not self conscious in the least. "With a K. No Katie or Kate or Kathy or anything cute like that. Just Katherine, thanks."
"Um. Yeah, okay," Ariadne mumbled, still feeling wobbly and uncertain.
Wriggling across the bed, Katherine kept the sheet wrapped around her and yanked it off the bed when she stood up. She wrapped it around herself like a toga, grinning at the two of them. She picked up Eames' boxers. "Here, put your pants on and go entertain your friend, yeah? I can shower first and then pull some clothes on."
Eames merely laughed as he caught the boxers with one hand, the other firmly around Ariadne's shoulders. "Don't take all the hot water. Just because it's beastly hot here doesn't mean I like freezing cold showers."
Katherine rolled her eyes as she collected her clothes from where they were strewn around the room. "Drama queen, you are," she teased, grinning at him. She turned to Ariadne, the smile still on her face. "Don't mind that idiot there. He's all about the showmanship."
"You wound me," Eames returned, mockingly drawing his hand to his chest as if wounded. He still had his boxers in that fist, which Ariadne found distracting. "Perhaps I should have let Mako snatch you up on that job, then?"
She snorted and pointed her finger at his chest. "I'm more valuable to you alive, and you know it. He'd rather carve into me and leave my carcass in the desert to rot. I should just put a price on his head and be done with it." Ariadne ducked out of the doorway as Katherine approached, allowing her to pass through to the bathroom.
Ariadne looked at Katherine's back and then back at Eames. Her lungs simply couldn't draw breath, and she still had the feeling that she was out of her depth. Either Eames didn't notice, or he was blithely ignoring it. She couldn't tell which it was, which only increased her anxiety. He simply slipped the boxers back on and drew her into his living room. "Do you need a drink? You look peaky. Is Arthur about? Or still on his job?"
It sounded like the same Eames she thought she knew. It sounded like he cared about her and Arthur, that he meant he always wanted them around. He looked like himself, not guilty in the slightest for having another woman in his bed. Hell, he'd even told Katherine about her, likely about Arthur, too.
"I went ahead," Ariadne said, feeling as though her voice was distant somehow. "I doubled back and went around... No one followed me, but I thought I should..."
He didn't seem to think her faltering statements were out of place. If anything, Eames merely laughed as he went into the kitchen. "Fantastic. You've definitely taken to the lessons of real world caution well, then. I knew I didn't misplace my trust in giving you that key." He poured her iced tea with that wide, lovely grin on his face. Ariadne's gut twisted at the sight of it, and she thought her hands were shaking as she took the glass. "Katherine doesn't even have the key, you know. Just you."
It wasn't love, not the way she thought it was. He didn't see the way there were tremors in her hands, that she was devastated by him being with someone else. Now she understood why he had blithely charged into a relationship with her and Arthur. It wasn't a relationship, not the way she thought of one. This wasn't what Arthur would accept, either. It was one thing to have a tangled relationship between three people that all cared about each other and loved each other. It was another to have one of the three looser with his affections.
Okay, that wasn't fair either. But Eames didn't think they had something exclusive, had likely never thought about how deeply Ariadne and Arthur would have come to love him. It simply didn't occur to him that they had different thoughts about what they were doing.
Ariadne finished the iced tea, not tasting anything. "How did you meet her?" she asked, voice strangled. It felt stupid, making small talk while her emotions were such a riot, but he simply shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal.
"There was a job a number of years ago. She was the extractor, they needed a forger to go into a subject's mind a second time. Someone completely fucked up the first go around, I think it was the point man, personally. Needless to say, it wasn't Arthur. Anyway, that went well, so we've worked together a few times."
"And Mako?" Ariadne asked, her voice sounding more even and like herself. Something in her was breaking at the thought that Eames couldn't see her distress, that he didn't know her as well as she thought he did, or that it didn't even bother him that she was upset by Katherine's presence in his life.
"Oh, him," Eames said with a dismissive wave, laughing as he poured her another glass of iced tea. "Mako rather took exception to her beating him out on a few bids two or three years ago, something like that. He's a sulky bastard, don't ever work with him."
"Okay," Ariadne said, more for something to say. He was looking at her so intently, earnest in his admonition about this Mako character. She wanted to think he loved her, this was his way of showing it, he didn't know how else to go about it. But that was wishful thinking; Eames did care about her wellbeing, but it wasn't the same kind of love that she felt for him.
That made Eames relax, and he smiled as he handed her the other glass of iced tea. "I'm glad you're here, darling," he said, voice low and sultry. He let her drink the glass before putting it aside for her and pulling her down into his lap. "I missed you."
"Somehow I doubt that," she replied dryly, a little hurt creeping into her voice before she could stop it.
Eames laughed, shaking his head. "It's Katherine. It is what it is."
Ariadne heard the water shut off in the bathroom and sealed her lips shut so she wouldn't say anything snarky about someone she didn't even know. She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder, shutting her eyes and letting the rumble of his voice wash over her as he talked about all his favorite haunts in the city. She wished she could just revel in the feel of him, clinging to her sad little fantasies of "hi, honey, I missed you!" sex and plotting ways to welcome Arthur to Mombasa. There was no graceful way to say she wanted to run back to Arthur, who at least returned her feelings the same way.
"Oh, you two are adorable," Katherine said from the doorway, sundress clinging to slightly damp skin as she toweled off her hair. "I think it's because you're like a doll," she told Ariadne with a kindly smile. In contrast, Katherine was as tall as Arthur and built like a 1950's pinup. She nodded in the direction of the bathroom. "Your turn, Eames."
With a smile, Eames gave Ariadne a fond kiss on the forehead before sliding her off of his lap. He teasingly shook his ass as he left the kitchen, making Katherine laugh and swat it with the towel. He laughed on the way to the bathroom, and Katherine draped the damp towel on the back of the chair Eames had just vacated. She looked at Ariadne closely, head tilted to the side. After a moment, her expression softened. "Oh, honey. You love him."
While she thought of denying it, there was really no point. Ariadne merely lifted her chin a notch and tried to stand taller. "I'm not the only one."
"I don't love him," Katherine said, blinking in surprise. "Is that what you think?"
She had been referring to Arthur, but she kept her mouth shut. In this business, secrets were guarded jealously and dispensed sparingly. It was too late to guard her heart against an extractor discovering its secrets, but she could spare Arthur's dignity as best as she could.
Katherine shook her head, lips curled into a sad smile. "He said you were new to this life, not long out of school." She moved to the iced tea pitcher that Eames hadn't put away and rummaged in his cupboards for another glass. Some part of Ariadne was gratified that she didn't know where they were kept, that she wasn't that good a friend of Eames'.
She paused after pouring herself a glass of the iced tea. "You can't afford attachments like that in this world, Ariadne. I can tell you that, even if it should be obvious. Sooner or later, it cuts you deeper than any knife, buries you under its own weight. Feelings are a liability most of the time, and love itself is merely suicide."
Whatever dim hope she might have had about Eames loving her back as deeply as she loved him died just then. While this was Katherine discussing emotions with her and not Eames, he was embedded in that life the same way Katherine was. He had to feel the same way about it; he had never said he loved Ariadne, never said he loved Arthur. He cared about them, he liked them, he trusted them. Perhaps that was more important, but it wasn't the same. She stubbornly clung to that one thought. Whatever he felt, it was genuine but it wasn't the same.
Disappointment was just as crushing as a physical attack.
Katherine sipped the tea slowly. "I'm sorry if I'm the first to tell you this," she said, meaning it. "I suppose you had to learn that lesson, though. Better now, when it's not your life on the line."
Or his, but Katherine didn't have to say the words.
"I suppose I should thank you," Ariadne replied somewhat stiffly. She wanted to run out the front door, call Arthur, cancel his plane tickets and book her return flight home. She had the impulse to scream and cry, carrying on like a fitful child. Dear God, Arthur. If she was devastated like this now, how would he feel?
Finishing her tea, Katherine put her glass down on the counter beside Ariadne's empty one. "Should I go, leave you two alone? I wasn't planning to stay long anyway, so it's not breaking any plans if I leave early."
She was being nice enough that Ariadne almost felt guilty for hating her. Almost.
"I arrived unannounced. I can leave." Ariadne pasted a smile on her face. "I wanted to see some of the touristy sites around here anyway."
The look on Katherine's face was pure pity, but she didn't say anything for a moment. "Your choice," she said finally. "He's good at what he does, and he can put on a good show. The bloke cares about others to a point, but not the type to love. None of us in this business are. You have to protect yourself, however you can. Love isn't enough to save you from what's out there. If you rely on that, might as well put a bullet in your head now."
Ariadne was glad she wasn't launching herself bodily at Katherine or running screaming out the front door. She still had that urge to dissolve into a puddle of tears and wallow in self pity, mourning the love she couldn't get from Eames. There was no way to make this right, was there? She was out of her depth, drowning before she even realized how far in she had gone.
The water shut off in the bathroom, and Ariadne swallowed down whatever she might have said to Katherine. She turned and started washing the glasses in the sink to give herself something to do. It was an excuse not to look at the extractor, not to compare how self confident she seemed to be, how she could handle casual affairs with such aplomb.
Katherine shrugged and picked up the towel before leaving the kitchen. Ariadne took her time in washing the glasses, but they were done quickly. She lingered uselessly, hearing the murmuring of voices in the hallway. Katherine reappeared, sailing through the living room with her strappy sandals on and a purse in hand. "Never a dull moment with you, Eames," she was saying with a smile on her face. "Keep in touch."
"Of course," he said with a smile. His hand lingered on her arm before he opened the door, but there was no kiss farewell. That had to mean something, right?
Eames went to the doorway to the kitchen, that half smile still on his face. "Katherine said there was a misunderstanding to clear up."
"Of course she did," Ariadne muttered, shaking her head. Her throat closed up again, an aching pain there that usually came when she started to cry. What use was there in trying to pin down what Eames felt? It wasn't the same for him. She mattered, Arthur mattered, but it wasn't the same thing as the desperate, soul-searing love she had.
He approached slowly, perhaps sensing that something was off about her now. She could feel his gaze, heavy and concerned, almost like an uncomfortable itch along her spine. His hand came to rest on her arm, touch gentle and supportive even though it was clear that he didn't know what was wrong. "What did she say to you?" he asked. His voice was neutral, but somehow she could tell that he was angry with Katherine.
"She just pointed out what I was too blind to see," Ariadne said finally, syllables like ashes in her mouth. "I didn't want to see it," she corrected, shaking her head and not looking up at Eames. "I was too caught up in everything. Everything we did together, it was new and fun and a distraction, right? I wanted it to mean what I wanted it to mean..."
Eames pulled over one of the chairs from his narrow table and sat down so he could be at eye level with her, though Ariadne refused to look at him. "Ariadne. Look at me."
He waited until she finally caved and looked at him, her throat closed tightly and eyes brimming with unshed tears. She wanted to say something, anything, wanted to deny that this was affecting her as much as it obviously was. Eames reached out and cupped her face in his hands, thumbs grazing her lower lip. His expression was soft, pained, and Ariadne felt her gut twist agonizingly at the thought that she was hurting him somehow. Never mind her own heart had already shattered, never mind she had fooled herself into thinking this could work out the way she had dreamed it would. She couldn't bring herself to hate Eames, even if he couldn't love her back the same way. He had never lied about his feelings, never lied about his intentions.
"You love me," he murmured softly. "And not only that, you're in love with me."
"Yes," she whispered, voice cracking.
"I'm not a good man, Ariadne. I've never been one, really."
"I know. I love you anyway."
Without another word, Eames pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, drowning in the scent of his soap and his skin. He simply held her, and Ariadne broke down in tears.
"I'm sorry," he murmured when her tears slowed. He stroked her hair, holding her shaking shoulders tight against him.
"Me, too."
"And Arthur...?"
"Yeah."
"Ah." Eames blew out a breath and turned to press a kiss to her temple.
There was nothing to say about it, was there? She had been happy, and her happiness hadn't been built on reality. It was nothing more than a dream, and even she knew that those dissolved as soon as the dreamer woke up.
"I never meant to hurt either of you. I care deeply for you, darling. Arthur's fun when he's not being a stick in the mud. I don't... I can't... I'm not who you want me to be," Eames said, settling on that phrasing after a moment. "I can be any number of people in and out of a dream, but I can't be who you need."
"And if I only need you to be who you are?"
Eames sighed and pulled her tight against him. "Don't let me destroy you, darling. You're a bright, rising star in this world. Staying with me will sour you over time."
"You're so certain of that..."
"I may not love you the way you love me, but I'm not that much of a bastard that I'd drown you in my wake. You will, if you stay with me for too long. I'm no hero, Ariadne. I don't want you hurt, but I'm not the kind to stay still. I'm not the kind to build things up. That's your forte, and it's not just dreams that you can build."
"Then can't I build this?" she asked, pulling out of his embrace.
"Ariadne," he began in a gentle voice, "you can't rebuild me. You can't turn me inside out and make me over into someone else. There isn't enough of a foundation here to work with. That's why I'm such an excellent forger. There isn't too much beneath the surface if you try to dive down deep."
"I refuse to believe that. If you were really that shallow, you wouldn't be warning me away from you. I wouldn't have fallen for you. Arthur wouldn't have fallen for you. Neither of us are so fickle that we'd walk away from someone we care about."
"But I am."
The quiet words carried the weight of truth, and that stopped her from yelling back at him. She remembered that he would have cut and run during the first level of the Fischer job. He had pulled the trigger in Dublin without remorse and hauled the body away.
Eames wasn't a good man, and was honest with himself enough to know it. There was enough decency that he was trying to warn her away from him. Arthur likely wouldn't be as disappointed when he found out about this; he had been reluctant to begin anything with the forger in the first place. He would recover, and he would try to help Ariadne through. It would hurt her in the end if she stayed, if she tried to turn a blind eye to his faults. It would kill her, leaving her drowning in misery and regrets.
She blinked away tears but more fell. She felt weak and drained, but the world refused to twist and reshape, and no sinkhole opened up beneath her.
Ariadne startled when he gently brushed his fingers against her cheek. There was that tender, soulful expression on his face. He cared and loved her, he just wasn't in love with her. Maybe it was the best that he could do.
"I'll tell Arthur, darling. I'll take care of everything."
"I'm not leaving either of you," Ariadne said in a voice just as soft as his.
"No, I don't suppose you would."
She felt like a coward when she hid in his bedroom as he called Arthur. The door didn't quite hide the low rumble of his voice. "It seems I have something to tell you," Eames began without preamble. But then, he had been so direct in Dublin when the job went south, so why wouldn't he be just as direct here?
Crawling into Eames' side of the bed, she pressed her face into his pillow to inhale the scent of him. His gun was cold and heavy in her hand, unfamiliar and awkward to hold. He had been so comfortable with it, reaching for the pistol when startled out of sleep. Eames was dangerous, involved in even more dangerous things, and it was natural for him to grab a weapon in his own home when startled. He never really let down his guard, not like she or Arthur did.
Ariadne must have fallen asleep. The shadows in the room had shifted when she woke, and she couldn't even hear Eames' voice in the living room any longer. She got up, gun still loosely held in her hand. With her left, she shoved her hair out of the way, not even caring how wild and knotted it had to be.
Eames was sprawled on his couch in the living room with a book. The window was open, fresh air wafting in and dissipating the scent of smoke from the cigarettes he had lit. "Feeling better?" he asked, looking up from the book. The title looked to be in Dutch, if she had to guess at the language, and Ariadne wondered how much she really knew about him.
"Maybe. How long was I asleep?"
"About two hours," Eames said, looking at his watch.
Some creeping instinct had Ariadne try to shift the dimensions of the room. She pulled and pushed at the walls and ceiling, but they remained in place. Eames didn't seem to notice her gaze darting about the room, as he was putting a bookmark into the book and putting it aside, near the used ceramic ashtray. "Why did you let me sleep so long?" she asked, feeling out of sorts.
His eyes flicked to the gun still in her hand. "It seemed safer to," he replied, voice a little sad. He stood and crossed the distance between them easily. His large hands closed around hers, and he took the pistol from her easily. "And you needed the rest, really. You've had quite the shock this morning, and recovery time seemed in order."
"What did Arthur say?"
"He's still coming tomorrow."
"He is?" Ariadne asked, startled. She watched him put the pistol on top of his book, as if it was an everyday occurrence. For all she knew, it was.
"No reason not to, really," Eames replied, looking back at her. She couldn't read his expression, and wished for the time when she thought she could. "And there are things to discuss, after all," he continued when she remained silent, coming back to her side. When his hands fell to her shoulders, pulling her close to him, she didn't feel overwhelmed or afraid. There was still a thrill in her gut and the hope that he was going to walk her backward to his bedroom. At the same time, Ariadne wanted to kick herself for still wanting him, still loving him so fiercely.
Eames lifted her up into his arms as easily as he always did. "But we can do something today, if you like. Arthur said you'd wanted to see the city. I take you about Old Town, go to the casinos or markets, whatever you like."
It was tempting, but it still surprised her when she heard herself say "I'd love that."
Ariadne fell into the usual way she behaved around Eames that afternoon. He was solicitous of her needs and pointed out his favorite haunts in the city. She could almost believe that the morning discovery was a dream, that her heart hadn't been shredded in her chest. A quiet sigh escaped her lips as they sat down to dinner in Eames' favorite café. He looked at her curiously, asking her with only his expression what the problem was.
"Was this morning just a dream, then?" she asked, a thread of bitterness in her voice. "I know it was real," she added hastily, sighing again. "I tested reality, and it kept coming up real, no matter how much I didn't want it to be."
He blotted his lips with his napkin carefully, likely thinking of the right words to say. "I never promised you what I couldn't give."
"I know," she murmured, looking down at her dinner plate. Her appetite was gone, despite how delicious the food had been.
"But it could be a dream, you know." He gave her a thin, pained smile at her incredulous look. "Think of what we do, Ariadne. Think of all we've done, all that's capable of being done while we're in dreams. I have a PASIV back at my flat. It could all be a dream if you want it to be, or you could make sure you wake up and you don't love me."
"Don't you dare!" she snarled, pushing at his chest. Anger spiked through her; whatever else she endured, she would rather feel the agony of that morning a thousand times over than lose the past few months.
Eames let her push him around, then gently finger combed her hair flat. "Arthur didn't think you would want to do that, either. You'd rather feel everything, even if it killed you."
Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. "Did you discuss that with Arthur?"
Eames nodded. "He said everything had to be done with your knowledge and consent. He'd gut me if I ever tried to do anything as you slept." Eames snorted as Ariadne thought Damn straight, shaking his head a little. "As if I would ever do such a thing to you."
At least she was exempt from the callous disregard he seemed to hold for most people. Ariadne was ridiculously heartened by having that kind of regard from him. "What did you think you would do? Take me down to limbo and tell me not to love you anymore?"
"Something like that. A bit more elegantly, perhaps, but it's a possibility. Then you wouldn't hurt as much as you do."
Warmth spread through her, something almost like hope. It was probably more like the burn a drowning swimmer felt from lack of oxygen, a deceptive sensation that could lull her to her doom. He might not be in love with them, but perhaps this was the only way he could really feel love for someone else. She had to hang onto that thought, no matter how desperate it sounded. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think that would work."
"Because you love me that deeply? I would think that emotion's for Arthur."
Was that jealousy? Ariadne could hope that it was, but there was no way she could really be sure without asking him, and he would never admit to it even if that was true. "Because you can't control what would happen with that suggestion. I could wake up hating you, or forgetting you ever mattered. I'd never work with you again. We'd never meet, never talk, never kiss or make love again. That isn't what you want."
"No," he admitted quietly. "But neither did I want you in pain because of me. I'm no hero, Ariadne, and I'll never be one."
"What did Arthur say, exactly?" she asked suddenly. She hadn't wanted to ask earlier, didn't want to think about how hurt or angry Arthur might be. "When you told him you weren't in love with us? What did he say to you?"
"He'd guessed," Eames replied, eyes never leaving her face. She could see the sincerity, and the fact that no earthquake rattled the café despite her urge to twist the place apart meant that this entire exchange was real.
Of course he guessed. Arthur knew far more about Eames than she did. Eames could be trusted on a job, keep secrets and was the very soul of discretion. But there was that measure of trust that Arthur simply hadn't been able to give Eames, so it wasn't a shock for him as it had been for Ariadne. She was the type to dive headlong into something without thinking of the consequences until it was far too late, but Arthur wasn't.
"There's nothing to be angry about, but I gather he was disappointed," Eames continued, sadness evident in his voice. "Nothing has to change if you don't want it to."
It went without saying that Arthur would follow her lead on this, as he had in getting involved with Eames in the first place.
"Nothing ever changed for you," Ariadne murmured.
"No, it didn't," he replied. "You need to decide what you want..." He leaned in to say something else, but their waiter came to check in on them, and the moment passed.
Neither restarted the conversation again, and Ariadne allowed herself to be pulled into his bed to sleep that night. He didn't do anything more than kiss and hold her, his heartbeat lulling her into an uneasy sleep.
She already knew what she wanted. She just wasn't going to get it.
***
Arthur arrived in Mombasa the next evening on schedule, a little tired looking but none the worse for wear. He had his usual faint smile for Eames, which broadened for Ariadne. He swept her up into his arms, holding her tightly and kissing her fiercely. "Are you all right?" he asked, leaning in close.
"I am now that you're here," Ariadne replied.
"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his arms sliding down her back. She knew that touch meant he would support her no matter what she decided. But there was no decision to be made, really. She had decided months ago what she wanted, what she thought she needed. She didn't have what she wanted, but she had something, and she wasn't about to let go of that.
"I love you, too," she said, squeezing him back tightly. Eames had hung back, giving them a respectful foot of space to greet each other. She turned toward him, a watery smile on her face. "I love both of you, God help me," she said, pulling him closer.
Eames' arms encircled Ariadne and Arthur, and she let out a soft sigh. He flashed them both his usual crookedly charming smile as he lifted his head. "Come on, then. We'll be all right. I have a number of places I wanted to show you, if you're still amenable. Let's head out."
She was being drawn further into their life, dragged down in their wake. As much as Eames had said he didn't want that to happen, she couldn't help herself. This was where he and Arthur belonged, so she would have to cherish these moments as they came. As bittersweet and razor-edged as they were, she preferred to hoard these memories than give them up.
Giving Arthur a kiss, she smiled at Eames then slid an arm around Arthur. "Yes, I'd like that."
She preferred to drown with her eyes wide open.
The End