Inception fic: Justement, Je Regrette Les Zombies (9/14)
Title: Justement, Je Regrette Les Zombies (9/14)
Fandom/Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames, Ariadne/Fischer
Overall Rating: PG-13
Overall Warnings: Language, violence, character un-death
Wordcount: 4,875
Notes: Good amounts of Fischer in this chapter. I would write more about it, but I'm too tired. So, on to the chapter. Huge thanks to towel_master for making me describe things. The world has scenery, don't cha know. ;)
Chapter One
Summary: After college, all Arthur wanted to do was live a normal life hacking into government databases. But if the flesh-hungry zombies are any indication, the universe has different plans.
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Previous Chapter
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November 12, 2013: 1:13 am, Bonanza, Colorado
“Those will kill you.” Slim fingers snatch the cigarette out of his own and bring it up to pale lips drawn into a smile. Inhale, slow exhale, and a muted laugh that is swallowed up by the rumpled and skewed blankets all around them.
“Hypocrite,” he chuckles, waving the smoke away before taking the cigarette back. “You’re just as bad as I am.”
Warm brown eyes meet his and steal his breath away, much as the sneaking fingers again nip his cigarette away, tail-end of the filter slipping out of sight behind moist lips and a flash of teeth.
“I am not. I don’t smoke.” And, to prove it, his lover flicks the ash into the tray and snubs out the embers against the glass, dropping them into the gloom of the dark room. “See? Now come here.”
Lips meet softly, a brief press that conveys so much that they never said, so much that they might never say. Things are not always this good, he knows, but for now it is enough that they are together.
“Darling,” he says after they have settled together, back to chest, his arm wrapped securely around his lover’s thin waist, “will you be here when I wake up?”
“No.”
And he sighs and traces his hand down the length of the pale arm before him, shoulder to wrist, until soft, dry skin ends in unnatural warmth, slick against the pads of fingers. Shocked, he brings his hand up to inspect the new sensation, the beads of liquid running down his skin and dripping onto the sheets.
Even in the dim light, he can tell that it is blood.
His lover is standing now, pulling on his crumpled white shirt, all but the top two buttons done up. The left sleeve sticks to his wrist, dark red staining the white fabric irreversibly. The pants follow, tugged on efficiently. He tucks in his shirt, picks up his tie from the floor.
From the bed, he watches.
“Darling, darling,” he says, moving to stand but in his heart knowing that his lover is already at the door.
“Stay here. Don’t come after me.”
And he reaches for the dripping wrist to look for what he already knows is there, but it is snatched away before his fingers can brush the graying skin.
One hand on the doorknob, Arthur turns. He smiles, a quick and violent flash of white teeth that reflect the strains of the city light shining though the gaps in the hotel’s heavy curtains. His feverish eyes glint with malevolence, with a cold calculation that had never been there before. Blood slips silently down from the corners of his mouth, falling onto his exposed throat and the once-starched collar of his shirt.
And he laughs, he laughs.
Then, with a gunshot, he is gone; like a wisp of smoke dissipating in the air, he vanishes, leaving Eames holding the gun.
-o-
Eames woke.
Carefully, he leaned over and turned on the light, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands. He scrubbed a hand over his face, attempting to force the remnants of the dream away. His breath stopped when he felt the blood on his hand.
A closer inspection revealed his injury to be self-inflicted: he had clenched his fists so hard while he slept that his fingernails had bitten through the skin of his palm. He waited for his breathing to even out, for his pulse to slow. Then he stood, unable to look at blood on white sheets any longer.
He went downstairs and sat alone in the kitchen until dawn broke.
-ooo-
7:10 am, Bonanza, Colorado
“Good morning, Mr. Eames,” Phillipa greeted, as she skipped down the hallway and into the kitchen. Her blonde hair was pulled up in swinging pigtails, and Eames smiled to see them. She looked happy, and that was what Eames needed right then.
“Good morning, pet,” Eames replied. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh-huh,” the eight-year-old nodded. “James didn’t though. He had a nightmare.” She reached over and stole a piece of Eames’s toast.
“Oh? That’s too bad.”
(One hand on the doorknob, Arthur turns.)
Eames shook his head and handed her a napkin to wipe jam off her face.
“Yeah, but I’m a good big sister, so I stayed up with him until he went back to sleep.”
“You are a good big sister,” Eames said proudly. “I’m sure James appreciated it very much.”
She shifted in her seat a little, face tingeing pink. “I don’t like it when he’s sad. But don’t tell him!” Her eyes were wide and pleading. “If you tell him, I’ll be ruined forever.”
Eames nodded solemnly. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She grinned at him and bounced out of her chair to give him a hug before stealing another piece of his toast. “Thanks, Uncle Eames.”
He paused, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. As he watched her disappear down the hallway again, no doubt to wake her father, his coffee tasted a little bit sweeter.
-oooxooo-
November 24, 2013: 10:00 am, New York, New York
Another flash of lightening split the dark sky, followed by a roll of thunder that shook the whole city. Rain streamed down in angry torrents, as if God were trying to drown the world for a second time and start over. The last of the recent fires spluttered and died under the onslaught, throwing whole sections of the empty city back into darkness.
Now and again, a neon light flickered briefly, echoing the spectacle that tore across the heavens and casting weak patches of light out onto the deserted streets. Rivers poured down the sidewalks, flowing around dams of abandoned bags and bicycles and the motionless dead.
Sometimes it seemed as if he and Saito were the only two people left alive in the whole world.
Fischer sighed and pulled away from the window he’d been peering out of, turning instead to look around the office he and Saito had taken over as their headquarters. Everything was locked and secure, but Fischer still felt exposed. He fought the temptation to turn off the one low light that illuminated the cream walls, to hide himself from the undead eyes of the city in the comfort of the dark.
He closed the blinds.
Taking a seat at what had probably been the boardroom table, Fischer deposited his gun on the polished surface, intending to clean it. He looked up when Saito came in and inclined his head in greeting. The older man nodded back and joined him, pulling out a chair on the other side of the table.
“This is quite a storm,” he commented, and Fischer agreed, looking away from his gun to glance back at the covered windows.
“Yeah, it’s crazy. Do you think it will let up anytime soon? I don’t really like it when visibility is this bad.”
Saito pursed his lips in thought. “I would guess it will continue for an hour or so, more or less. But there are times when the weather can be very unpredictable.” He sent Fischer a reassuring smile. “I would not worry. I am sure that all of the infected have mostly taken cover. We will not be bothered.”
“That’s not really what I’m worried about,” Fischer said, a little to himself. He shrugged and smiled back at Saito, trying to put his fears behind him. “Never mind. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Saito answered. “I must admit, it is much easier to sleep with the knowledge that there are others around.”
“I know how you feel,” Fischer said. “Is Mark still asleep?” he inquired of the pilot, and Saito nodded.
“I thought it best not to wake him. He has been troubled, as of late. I believe he is worried for his family.”
“Where do they live?”
“The world is a small place. Currently, they live in Colorado.”
Fischer thinned his lips and looked back at the window, as if he could see all the way to Yusuf’s house in Bonanza. “Just another reason why we should have left.”
“He has assured me that they are safe. We will get them, and Miss Ariadne, as soon as they are ready. For now, we must do what we can here.”
Fischer sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “You’re right. I know Ari can take care of herself. I know that. I’m just-” He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “I’m just tired.”
“Then perhaps you should sleep as well,” Saito suggested. “I will keep watch. If you are tired, there is no reason for you to stay up.”
Smiling slightly, Fischer wondered how exactly he and Saito had gone from bitter business rivals to good friends so quickly. He guessed that going through hell with someone was bound to make some lasting ties. “Yeah, if you don’t mind I think I will turn in for a while. But if you want company, don’t hesitate to wake me.”
The corners of Saito’s lips curled up. “Goodnight, Robert.”
Fischer laughs and shakes his head. “Good morning, Takumi.” He was halfway to the door when his phone rang, belting out a cheery, slightly tinny version of Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream.
Saito raised an eyebrow.
“It’s Ariadne. She picked it, not me,” Fischer defended, pulling it out of his pocket and flipping it open, cheeks slightly pink. “Hello? Ari?” After a beat or two of static, his eyes narrowed in concern, and he shot he quick glance at Saito.
“Ariadne? Are you there? Ari!”
“Can you come pick us up?” Her voice was low, and scared. Like she was calling the police because there was an intruder in the house and she was trying not to be found.
Fischer looked over at Saito again, frightened, this time. “Yes, we’ll head out right away. But Ariadne, what’s wrong?”
Saito rose gracefully from his seat, watching Fischer with concerned eyes. He went to the door, then paused to see if Fischer had any more information or instructions.
“It-it’s Mal. Cobb’s wife. She started acting strangely, like a wild animal. She doesn’t speak any more, and she’s stopped accepting the hamburger Cobb brings her.” Her voice shook a little. “Please hurry, Rob. She’s trying to get out.”
“She’s-fuck, Ari, I told you it was a bad idea.” He ran a frantic hand through his hair, and turned to see Saito disappearing into the hallway to wake Mark. “All right,” he said, firmly. “Okay, we’re on our way. Stay safe, Ariadne. We’ll be there in three hours.” Fischer was already following Saito down the hall to the rooms they’d set aside for sleep.
“Mark, wake up. We must leave immediately,” Saito was saying as Fischer came through the door, pocketing his phone.
“What?” Mark asked, blinking tired brown eyes at the two of them, his blond hair mussed. He was still half asleep, but responded easily to the urgency in Saito’s voice. “What’s happened?”
“Miss Ariadne requires our assistance in Colorado. Is the jet ready to fly?”
There was loud clap of thunder from above, startling all three of them. Mark looked quickly at Saito, who frowned.
“Can we even leave it this?” Fischer asked desperately, and Saito laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“We will leave as soon as we can.”
-o-
An hour. It had taken a whole hour for the storm to clear enough that Saito’s jet would be able to take off. The jet itself was small, neat and streamlined as it shone wetly in the light of the runway.
One major advantage to the storm was that most of the zombies had retreated from open space to take cover in the empty houses and buildings of the city, leaving the runway clear for Saito, Fischer, and Mark to make their way to the plane. Mark got the door open and the stairs attached, and all three of them boarded.
“Okay,” Mark said, taking his seat in the cockpit and pulling on his headphones, “It’ll be about three hours to Colorado from here. Everyone settled?”
“Yes,” Saito assured, and then they were speeding over the asphalt and up into the sky.
Fischer drummed his fingers on the armrest restlessly. He had promised Ariadne three hours, and now they were pushing four.
“Fuck, I can’t believe I allowed to let her talk me into leaving her there with an obviously unstable man and his zombie wife. Jesus. How could I have been so stupid? What if-what if something’s happened to her? I’ll never forgive myself.” Fischer paused, his teeth clenching. “Or Cobb either, for that matter.”
“I’m sure Miss Ariadne will be all right,” Saito said from his seat, poised and in control. His calm seemed to seep into Fischer, attempting to relax his shoulders or loosen his grip on the other armrest.
For the most part, it was unsuccessful.
“She’s trapped in a house with an infected woman that they’ve no doubt been ordered not to shoot, Takumi,” he said. “She’s a strong girl, but she’s only a college student. Whatever she’s been taught by Arthur about weapons can only protect her so much. She’s not a soldier.”
He ran an aggravated hand through his hair, upsetting the neat strands.
“Besides, who the hell are those people? I’d only ever met Arthur, and he’s a fucking zombie now! I left her in the hands of complete strangers!”
“She will be fine, Robert,” Saito said again, firmly, though he himself seemed to be tensing up. He was trying to remain rational, for if both of them were panicking, the situation surely wouldn’t end well. “You have to believe in her. She is a strong woman, is she not? And I am quite sure that even if Mr. Cobb will not comply, anyone else in that house would be willing to save the life of one who is healthy over that of one who is infected.”
“If they’re not infected themselves, or so interested in self-preservation they’d sacrifice her to live,” Fischer muttered darkly, shifting anxiously in his seat and staring out the window. “No, you’re right. I’m sure she’ll be...” He sighed. “It’s just-I can’t lose her.”
“She is very special to you?” It seemed to Saito that this was something Fischer needed to talk about. So he let him.
“Special? Ariadne’s pretty much the only person I care about. I never really made friends as a child, and those I did were only around because I was Robert Fischer. They’d all been pre-selected, anyway, to give me a good image. But I met Ariadne in a coffee shop two years ago.”
He laughed, and it warmed Saito’s heart to see his serious friend so happy. Even though they had really only been personally acquainted for less than a month, the days had been very revealing. Saito knew Ariadne must certainly be something if the mere thought of her could make Fischer smile.
“Did you know, she didn’t even know who I was? When I introduced myself and waited for what I assumed was the inevitable, she just looked up at me and said that she’d pegged me as a Rob from the start. I asked her out to dinner, and she said yes.”
He laughed again, but it was quieter, more introspective. “My father was furious, of course, when it got out that I was seeing a college student instead of the daughter of his partner company, but I couldn’t help myself. She’s amazing. She didn’t even leave me when that fight between Father and Uncle Peter broke out.”
Saito shifted slightly. “Robert-san, I am sorry to interrupt you, but I feel that there is something I must tell you now.”
“Yes? What is it?” Fischer asked, curious. Saito sounded so serious.
“I was responsible for the scandal between your father and his friend.”
Fischer blinked, then looked slightly uncomfortable. “That? You made Uncle Peter sleep with my mother all those years ago?” He cleared his throat. This was still a touchy subject for him, since even though the actual act was old, the pain from the news was still fresh in his mind. The look on Uncle Peter’s face when he’d seen the headlines… Fischer shook his head, trying to laugh it off. “No offense, Takumi, but I doubt even you are that persuasive.”
“I can truthfully say I had no hand in the actual act, but I am responsible for it coming to light publicly.” Saito briefly flicked his eyes away. “Are you familiar with The Extractors?”
“The circle of corporate criminals? Yes, we’ve had our run-ins with them before.” He let out a small breath of incredulous laughter. “So, that was their work? I can’t say I’m surprised. In fact, I probably should have guessed. After being buried for twenty years, I guess it was a bit odd for the information to surface.”
“Yes, on my commission. It would have been irreversibly damaging to my company for Browning’s business deal with Green Mountain Energy to go through.” Saito studied Fischer’s face and was surprised to be met not with a glare, or shouting, but with a dull look of acceptance.
“Thank you for telling me. I wish I could be angry with you for what you put me through, but I just don’t see the point now. It’s over with, and all parties concerned are-” He paused, then took a breath. “No longer with us. Now we should just do our best to survive.”
They were both quiet for a moment.
“I doubt the Fischer energy conglomerate has a future, anyway,” Fischer said suddenly. “What with Maurice dead and half the world gone. Or maybe you and I can team up and we will be the only future.”
“Perhaps,” Saito agreed, and they exchanged few other words for the rest of the flight.
-ooo-
12:00 pm, Gunnison, Colorado
The plane touched down in the smoking remains of Gunnison-Crested Butte Regional airport, and Fischer would have jumped out of the plane if Saito would have let him. Mark opened the door as soon as they had made sure there were no zombies waiting outside.
“Good luck to the both of you,” Mark said as he grabbed his pack and checked to make sure his guns were all loaded. “I can’t go with you to find your girl, Rob. I have to find my family. I hope she’s safe, though.”
“I do not think you should go off alone,” Saito said, frowning. “Come with us, and once we have secured Miss Ariadne, we will go to find your wife and daughters.”
“I can’t.” Mark handed Fischer his bag with a smile. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t wait that long to see them. To know if they’re okay. I’ll keep my phone on. When we’ve both found who we’re looking for, let’s all go back to New York. Together.”
Fischer looked conflicted, but he knew how Mark must feel. He was already itching to get on the road and out to Bonanza, to reunite with Ariadne. He held out his hand.
“Stay safe, Mark. I hope you find your family well, and if you get into any trouble, you call us. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Mark smiled and wrapped Fischer’s hand in his warm grip. “I was a marine. I don’t do unnecessary risks.” His smile dropped for only a second, and then it was back, softer. “You guys stay safe, too. I want to see you again.”
Saito nodded to him, and then shook his hand as well. “You will. Do not worry.”
Then they secured the plane and headed off into the hostile world in opposite directions.
-ooo-
1:20 pm, Bonanza, Colorado
“Ariadne?” Fischer was out of the stolen car so fast that it hadn’t even stopped moving before his feet were on the ground. The house was quiet, but the front door was ajar. He could feel his breath catch in his throat.
“Ariadne!”
It was only Saito’s hand on his shoulder that kept him from charging recklessly into the house. Instead, he slowed and took a breath before checking to see that his gun was loaded and approaching the door at a more careful pace.
Bracing his shoulder against the wood, he pushed the door fully open and swung his gun in a wide arc of cover.
Nothing moved inside.
He lowered his gun slightly and jerked his head to call Saito over. Together they stepped into the wreckage of what once must have been a beautiful foyer. There was a shattered vase in front of them, littering the floor with blue glass gems and cheerfully colored fake flowers. Beyond them laid a fragmented table, its dark wood as splintered as the mirror that reflected their shocked faces.
There were long, uneven scores in the walls that lead to the dining area, and the wooden doorframe had a butcher’s knife embedded in it. His anxiety rising, Fischer turned the corner into the kitchen. All of the chairs were either tipped over or knocked askew, and the cup of writing utensils usually by the phone was on the ground, its pens and pencils spread out in an artful arc around the feet they saw sticking out from behind the counter.
“Oh God…”
And then Fischer was there, kneeling next to Ariadne, brushing her hair out of her face and trying to see if she was all right, if she had been bitten, if she was injured…
“…Ro…b?”
“Shhh, Ari, it’s okay. I’m here. How do you feel? What happened?”
“I…I think I hit my head.” The girl winced and struggled a little to sit up, and Fischer had to help her. “Where is everyone else?”
“We were kind of hoping you could tell us,” Fischer answered, glancing around the house again. “How long were you out?”
“Not long, I don’t think. For a long time Mal just stalked around in the back hall and the bedrooms. She only recently started attacking. …Where is she? Is she-”
Saito, who had left them to check the rooms, returned with a man who looked to be African and a young blond boy. From another room down the hall came a nervous man with messy black hair and shifting dark eyes.
Appearing from upstairs came an older man and woman, the man armed with a baseball bat and the woman with a broom.
“This is Yusuf and James,” Saito informed him, gesturing to each of his two companions in turn when they were closer.
“Nash,” the jumpy one said from where he stood, hanging back.
“I’m Miles and this is Marie,” the elderly man greeted. “We’re certainly glad to see some other survivors.”
“Minna,” Saito continued, “I am Saito Takumi, and this is Robert Fischer.”
Fischer inclined his head, and then turned back to Ariadne. “How many other people were in the house?”
“Well…There was Cobb, Eames, Mal…and Phillipa. James, where’s your sister?”
The boy blinked, but was unresponsive. Worried, Ariadne turned her gaze to Yusuf.
“Yusuf? What happened? Where’s Cobb? And Mal? I hit my head and passed out when she jumped over the counter, but she just passed me by completely.”
“The last time I saw anyone else was when Cobb and Eames went chasing after her and Arthur.”
“Wait, Arthur was here?!” Ariadne’s head spun, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the injury or the information. What was Arthur doing there? When had he…?
“Uncle Arthur took Phillipa away with him.”
Everyone turned to look at James.
“What?” Fischer asked. James looked at him in a long-suffering way.
“Uncle Arthur came when-when Maman got out. Through the back door, and he-he grabded Phil.” The boy sniffled, and then began to cry in earnest. Marie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, picking him up and carrying him away from the group, murmuring comforting words.
Miles ducked into the bathroom and came back with some gauze and antibiotic spray, handing it to Fischer. Thanking him quietly, Fischer used a wet paper towel to clean off most of the blood from Ariadne’s face, then sprayed and bandaged the wound on her temple.
Yusuf cleared his throat. “Arthur tried to grab James, too, but Mal attacked him and chased him off. It was weird. They were animalistic, and I’ve never seen the infected act that way. After that, Cobb and Eames took off after them.”
“How long ago, Yusuf? When did they leave?”
Yusuf’s reply was interrupted by a crash from the back hallway, and then a swear. Muted voices floated down from the open doorway, one low and soothing, the other agitated.
Fischer dropped his hand to his gun.
“Don’t shoot,” Ariadne said when the two men appeared in the door. “That’s them.”
Cobb had a shaking Phillipa in his arms, and he was murmuring softly to her, rocking her gently. Eames’s mouth was drawn into a thin line, and his eyes were pained. Ariadne knew the Fischer was searching for bites on him, but she could tell it wasn’t physical injury.
She’d seen that look before, when they’d left Arthur behind.
“Eames?” she said quietly after a moment, allowing Cobb the time to comfort Phillipa. “What happened?”
He was silent until she carefully stepped over and put a hand on his arm.
“He-pet, that’s blood. Are you bleeding.” Immediately, he raised a hand to Ariadne’s head, trying not to let the fear creep into his voice. “Are you all right? You haven’t been-”
“She’s fine,” Fischer said firmly, stepping forward.
“Well, thank you for saying so, Mr. Fischer, but I’d like to make sure for myself, if you don’t mind,” Eames snapped, and his tone left no room for argument.
Fischer’s eyes narrowed, but he let Eames examine Ariadne.
“You should be fine,” the conman finally agreed, sounding relieved. He stepped back and turned to look at Fischer. “Nice to finally meet you, I suppose. My name is Eames.”
He didn’t hold out his hand, but Ariadne didn’t blame him when she saw why.
“Eames, is that blood on your hand?” Nervously, she inched a step backward.
“It is, but it’s not mine.”
“Not yours? But it can’t be Arthur’s-” The disbelief was heavy in her voice, accompanied by a sort of sad shock.
But Eames shook his head.
“Cobb wouldn’t let me get close enough for it to be Arthur’s.” There was a dark look that flitted across his face as he tightened his hand around the blood on his palm.
Cobb wasn’t looking at him.
“Then whose…?”
“It belongs to the man I killed,” the conman said matter-of-factly, meeting her eyes unflinchingly, daring her to say something. Anything.
She gasped and took a step back.
“Was he infected?” Fischer asked worryingly, raising a steadying hand to the small of her back.
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” Fischer demanded.
“Did he attack you?” Nash fretted, but Eames just shook his head. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” Fischer snapped again, pulling Ariadne away from Eames protectively.
Saito watched impassively.
“I mean that the man was in perfect health before I suddenly and painfully ended his life.”
“Then why did you kill him?” Yusuf asked quietly, sadly.
Miles and Marie had taken James and Phillipa into the next room over, not wanting them to hear any more of this.
Eames laughed humorlessly and Cobb flinched. “Because he no longer mattered to me.” He turned away from their shocked expressions and headed for the door, tucking his gun into his waistband as he went. He grabbed the doorknob and was halfway to the steps before anyone spoke.
“Where are you going?” Ariadne whispered, but it was too loud in the silence.
“Out,” Eames replied shortly. “I need some time to think.”
“Will…will you be coming back?” Ariadne made a great effort to keep her voice from shaking. She could tell from Fischer’s body language behind her that he thought it was best that Eames didn’t return-they didn’t need a cold-blooded killer in their midst-but she didn’t care about that.
Eames had saved her life. He was her friend. If the man hadn’t been infected, there must have been a reason.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Tiredly, Eames scrubbed a hand over his face. His shoulders dropped dejectedly. “I just don’t know, Ariadne. I have no reason to come back.”
Ariadne flinched. “Do we really mean so little to you that you’d just abandon all of us? After all we’ve been through?”
Eames didn’t say anything, just turned to go.
“But-but what about the cure?” She pulled away from Fischer and took a few steps forward, beseechingly. “Don’t you need-”
“Not anymore.” Eames’s shoulders tensed back up. “The cure is no longer of interest to me.” He stepped outside.
“Why?”
Yusuf’s question paused the conman on the first step, and Cobb pressed a hand to his eyes, briefly.
“Why?” Eames repeated, softly. “Because the man I shot five times in the chest with his own gun-the man who wasn’t infected or attacking me or threatening my safety in any way-he killed Arthur.”
The door clicked quietly shut behind him.
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Next Chapter
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...Dun dun dun. :)
See you next week!
Fandom/Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames, Ariadne/Fischer
Overall Rating: PG-13
Overall Warnings: Language, violence, character un-death
Wordcount: 4,875
Notes: Good amounts of Fischer in this chapter. I would write more about it, but I'm too tired. So, on to the chapter. Huge thanks to towel_master for making me describe things. The world has scenery, don't cha know. ;)
Chapter One
Summary: After college, all Arthur wanted to do was live a normal life hacking into government databases. But if the flesh-hungry zombies are any indication, the universe has different plans.
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Previous Chapter
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November 12, 2013: 1:13 am, Bonanza, Colorado
“Those will kill you.” Slim fingers snatch the cigarette out of his own and bring it up to pale lips drawn into a smile. Inhale, slow exhale, and a muted laugh that is swallowed up by the rumpled and skewed blankets all around them.
“Hypocrite,” he chuckles, waving the smoke away before taking the cigarette back. “You’re just as bad as I am.”
Warm brown eyes meet his and steal his breath away, much as the sneaking fingers again nip his cigarette away, tail-end of the filter slipping out of sight behind moist lips and a flash of teeth.
“I am not. I don’t smoke.” And, to prove it, his lover flicks the ash into the tray and snubs out the embers against the glass, dropping them into the gloom of the dark room. “See? Now come here.”
Lips meet softly, a brief press that conveys so much that they never said, so much that they might never say. Things are not always this good, he knows, but for now it is enough that they are together.
“Darling,” he says after they have settled together, back to chest, his arm wrapped securely around his lover’s thin waist, “will you be here when I wake up?”
“No.”
And he sighs and traces his hand down the length of the pale arm before him, shoulder to wrist, until soft, dry skin ends in unnatural warmth, slick against the pads of fingers. Shocked, he brings his hand up to inspect the new sensation, the beads of liquid running down his skin and dripping onto the sheets.
Even in the dim light, he can tell that it is blood.
His lover is standing now, pulling on his crumpled white shirt, all but the top two buttons done up. The left sleeve sticks to his wrist, dark red staining the white fabric irreversibly. The pants follow, tugged on efficiently. He tucks in his shirt, picks up his tie from the floor.
From the bed, he watches.
“Darling, darling,” he says, moving to stand but in his heart knowing that his lover is already at the door.
“Stay here. Don’t come after me.”
And he reaches for the dripping wrist to look for what he already knows is there, but it is snatched away before his fingers can brush the graying skin.
One hand on the doorknob, Arthur turns. He smiles, a quick and violent flash of white teeth that reflect the strains of the city light shining though the gaps in the hotel’s heavy curtains. His feverish eyes glint with malevolence, with a cold calculation that had never been there before. Blood slips silently down from the corners of his mouth, falling onto his exposed throat and the once-starched collar of his shirt.
And he laughs, he laughs.
Then, with a gunshot, he is gone; like a wisp of smoke dissipating in the air, he vanishes, leaving Eames holding the gun.
-o-
Eames woke.
Carefully, he leaned over and turned on the light, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands. He scrubbed a hand over his face, attempting to force the remnants of the dream away. His breath stopped when he felt the blood on his hand.
A closer inspection revealed his injury to be self-inflicted: he had clenched his fists so hard while he slept that his fingernails had bitten through the skin of his palm. He waited for his breathing to even out, for his pulse to slow. Then he stood, unable to look at blood on white sheets any longer.
He went downstairs and sat alone in the kitchen until dawn broke.
-ooo-
7:10 am, Bonanza, Colorado
“Good morning, Mr. Eames,” Phillipa greeted, as she skipped down the hallway and into the kitchen. Her blonde hair was pulled up in swinging pigtails, and Eames smiled to see them. She looked happy, and that was what Eames needed right then.
“Good morning, pet,” Eames replied. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh-huh,” the eight-year-old nodded. “James didn’t though. He had a nightmare.” She reached over and stole a piece of Eames’s toast.
“Oh? That’s too bad.”
(One hand on the doorknob, Arthur turns.)
Eames shook his head and handed her a napkin to wipe jam off her face.
“Yeah, but I’m a good big sister, so I stayed up with him until he went back to sleep.”
“You are a good big sister,” Eames said proudly. “I’m sure James appreciated it very much.”
She shifted in her seat a little, face tingeing pink. “I don’t like it when he’s sad. But don’t tell him!” Her eyes were wide and pleading. “If you tell him, I’ll be ruined forever.”
Eames nodded solemnly. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She grinned at him and bounced out of her chair to give him a hug before stealing another piece of his toast. “Thanks, Uncle Eames.”
He paused, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. As he watched her disappear down the hallway again, no doubt to wake her father, his coffee tasted a little bit sweeter.
-oooxooo-
November 24, 2013: 10:00 am, New York, New York
Another flash of lightening split the dark sky, followed by a roll of thunder that shook the whole city. Rain streamed down in angry torrents, as if God were trying to drown the world for a second time and start over. The last of the recent fires spluttered and died under the onslaught, throwing whole sections of the empty city back into darkness.
Now and again, a neon light flickered briefly, echoing the spectacle that tore across the heavens and casting weak patches of light out onto the deserted streets. Rivers poured down the sidewalks, flowing around dams of abandoned bags and bicycles and the motionless dead.
Sometimes it seemed as if he and Saito were the only two people left alive in the whole world.
Fischer sighed and pulled away from the window he’d been peering out of, turning instead to look around the office he and Saito had taken over as their headquarters. Everything was locked and secure, but Fischer still felt exposed. He fought the temptation to turn off the one low light that illuminated the cream walls, to hide himself from the undead eyes of the city in the comfort of the dark.
He closed the blinds.
Taking a seat at what had probably been the boardroom table, Fischer deposited his gun on the polished surface, intending to clean it. He looked up when Saito came in and inclined his head in greeting. The older man nodded back and joined him, pulling out a chair on the other side of the table.
“This is quite a storm,” he commented, and Fischer agreed, looking away from his gun to glance back at the covered windows.
“Yeah, it’s crazy. Do you think it will let up anytime soon? I don’t really like it when visibility is this bad.”
Saito pursed his lips in thought. “I would guess it will continue for an hour or so, more or less. But there are times when the weather can be very unpredictable.” He sent Fischer a reassuring smile. “I would not worry. I am sure that all of the infected have mostly taken cover. We will not be bothered.”
“That’s not really what I’m worried about,” Fischer said, a little to himself. He shrugged and smiled back at Saito, trying to put his fears behind him. “Never mind. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” Saito answered. “I must admit, it is much easier to sleep with the knowledge that there are others around.”
“I know how you feel,” Fischer said. “Is Mark still asleep?” he inquired of the pilot, and Saito nodded.
“I thought it best not to wake him. He has been troubled, as of late. I believe he is worried for his family.”
“Where do they live?”
“The world is a small place. Currently, they live in Colorado.”
Fischer thinned his lips and looked back at the window, as if he could see all the way to Yusuf’s house in Bonanza. “Just another reason why we should have left.”
“He has assured me that they are safe. We will get them, and Miss Ariadne, as soon as they are ready. For now, we must do what we can here.”
Fischer sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “You’re right. I know Ari can take care of herself. I know that. I’m just-” He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “I’m just tired.”
“Then perhaps you should sleep as well,” Saito suggested. “I will keep watch. If you are tired, there is no reason for you to stay up.”
Smiling slightly, Fischer wondered how exactly he and Saito had gone from bitter business rivals to good friends so quickly. He guessed that going through hell with someone was bound to make some lasting ties. “Yeah, if you don’t mind I think I will turn in for a while. But if you want company, don’t hesitate to wake me.”
The corners of Saito’s lips curled up. “Goodnight, Robert.”
Fischer laughs and shakes his head. “Good morning, Takumi.” He was halfway to the door when his phone rang, belting out a cheery, slightly tinny version of Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream.
Saito raised an eyebrow.
“It’s Ariadne. She picked it, not me,” Fischer defended, pulling it out of his pocket and flipping it open, cheeks slightly pink. “Hello? Ari?” After a beat or two of static, his eyes narrowed in concern, and he shot he quick glance at Saito.
“Ariadne? Are you there? Ari!”
“Can you come pick us up?” Her voice was low, and scared. Like she was calling the police because there was an intruder in the house and she was trying not to be found.
Fischer looked over at Saito again, frightened, this time. “Yes, we’ll head out right away. But Ariadne, what’s wrong?”
Saito rose gracefully from his seat, watching Fischer with concerned eyes. He went to the door, then paused to see if Fischer had any more information or instructions.
“It-it’s Mal. Cobb’s wife. She started acting strangely, like a wild animal. She doesn’t speak any more, and she’s stopped accepting the hamburger Cobb brings her.” Her voice shook a little. “Please hurry, Rob. She’s trying to get out.”
“She’s-fuck, Ari, I told you it was a bad idea.” He ran a frantic hand through his hair, and turned to see Saito disappearing into the hallway to wake Mark. “All right,” he said, firmly. “Okay, we’re on our way. Stay safe, Ariadne. We’ll be there in three hours.” Fischer was already following Saito down the hall to the rooms they’d set aside for sleep.
“Mark, wake up. We must leave immediately,” Saito was saying as Fischer came through the door, pocketing his phone.
“What?” Mark asked, blinking tired brown eyes at the two of them, his blond hair mussed. He was still half asleep, but responded easily to the urgency in Saito’s voice. “What’s happened?”
“Miss Ariadne requires our assistance in Colorado. Is the jet ready to fly?”
There was loud clap of thunder from above, startling all three of them. Mark looked quickly at Saito, who frowned.
“Can we even leave it this?” Fischer asked desperately, and Saito laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“We will leave as soon as we can.”
-o-
An hour. It had taken a whole hour for the storm to clear enough that Saito’s jet would be able to take off. The jet itself was small, neat and streamlined as it shone wetly in the light of the runway.
One major advantage to the storm was that most of the zombies had retreated from open space to take cover in the empty houses and buildings of the city, leaving the runway clear for Saito, Fischer, and Mark to make their way to the plane. Mark got the door open and the stairs attached, and all three of them boarded.
“Okay,” Mark said, taking his seat in the cockpit and pulling on his headphones, “It’ll be about three hours to Colorado from here. Everyone settled?”
“Yes,” Saito assured, and then they were speeding over the asphalt and up into the sky.
Fischer drummed his fingers on the armrest restlessly. He had promised Ariadne three hours, and now they were pushing four.
“Fuck, I can’t believe I allowed to let her talk me into leaving her there with an obviously unstable man and his zombie wife. Jesus. How could I have been so stupid? What if-what if something’s happened to her? I’ll never forgive myself.” Fischer paused, his teeth clenching. “Or Cobb either, for that matter.”
“I’m sure Miss Ariadne will be all right,” Saito said from his seat, poised and in control. His calm seemed to seep into Fischer, attempting to relax his shoulders or loosen his grip on the other armrest.
For the most part, it was unsuccessful.
“She’s trapped in a house with an infected woman that they’ve no doubt been ordered not to shoot, Takumi,” he said. “She’s a strong girl, but she’s only a college student. Whatever she’s been taught by Arthur about weapons can only protect her so much. She’s not a soldier.”
He ran an aggravated hand through his hair, upsetting the neat strands.
“Besides, who the hell are those people? I’d only ever met Arthur, and he’s a fucking zombie now! I left her in the hands of complete strangers!”
“She will be fine, Robert,” Saito said again, firmly, though he himself seemed to be tensing up. He was trying to remain rational, for if both of them were panicking, the situation surely wouldn’t end well. “You have to believe in her. She is a strong woman, is she not? And I am quite sure that even if Mr. Cobb will not comply, anyone else in that house would be willing to save the life of one who is healthy over that of one who is infected.”
“If they’re not infected themselves, or so interested in self-preservation they’d sacrifice her to live,” Fischer muttered darkly, shifting anxiously in his seat and staring out the window. “No, you’re right. I’m sure she’ll be...” He sighed. “It’s just-I can’t lose her.”
“She is very special to you?” It seemed to Saito that this was something Fischer needed to talk about. So he let him.
“Special? Ariadne’s pretty much the only person I care about. I never really made friends as a child, and those I did were only around because I was Robert Fischer. They’d all been pre-selected, anyway, to give me a good image. But I met Ariadne in a coffee shop two years ago.”
He laughed, and it warmed Saito’s heart to see his serious friend so happy. Even though they had really only been personally acquainted for less than a month, the days had been very revealing. Saito knew Ariadne must certainly be something if the mere thought of her could make Fischer smile.
“Did you know, she didn’t even know who I was? When I introduced myself and waited for what I assumed was the inevitable, she just looked up at me and said that she’d pegged me as a Rob from the start. I asked her out to dinner, and she said yes.”
He laughed again, but it was quieter, more introspective. “My father was furious, of course, when it got out that I was seeing a college student instead of the daughter of his partner company, but I couldn’t help myself. She’s amazing. She didn’t even leave me when that fight between Father and Uncle Peter broke out.”
Saito shifted slightly. “Robert-san, I am sorry to interrupt you, but I feel that there is something I must tell you now.”
“Yes? What is it?” Fischer asked, curious. Saito sounded so serious.
“I was responsible for the scandal between your father and his friend.”
Fischer blinked, then looked slightly uncomfortable. “That? You made Uncle Peter sleep with my mother all those years ago?” He cleared his throat. This was still a touchy subject for him, since even though the actual act was old, the pain from the news was still fresh in his mind. The look on Uncle Peter’s face when he’d seen the headlines… Fischer shook his head, trying to laugh it off. “No offense, Takumi, but I doubt even you are that persuasive.”
“I can truthfully say I had no hand in the actual act, but I am responsible for it coming to light publicly.” Saito briefly flicked his eyes away. “Are you familiar with The Extractors?”
“The circle of corporate criminals? Yes, we’ve had our run-ins with them before.” He let out a small breath of incredulous laughter. “So, that was their work? I can’t say I’m surprised. In fact, I probably should have guessed. After being buried for twenty years, I guess it was a bit odd for the information to surface.”
“Yes, on my commission. It would have been irreversibly damaging to my company for Browning’s business deal with Green Mountain Energy to go through.” Saito studied Fischer’s face and was surprised to be met not with a glare, or shouting, but with a dull look of acceptance.
“Thank you for telling me. I wish I could be angry with you for what you put me through, but I just don’t see the point now. It’s over with, and all parties concerned are-” He paused, then took a breath. “No longer with us. Now we should just do our best to survive.”
They were both quiet for a moment.
“I doubt the Fischer energy conglomerate has a future, anyway,” Fischer said suddenly. “What with Maurice dead and half the world gone. Or maybe you and I can team up and we will be the only future.”
“Perhaps,” Saito agreed, and they exchanged few other words for the rest of the flight.
-ooo-
12:00 pm, Gunnison, Colorado
The plane touched down in the smoking remains of Gunnison-Crested Butte Regional airport, and Fischer would have jumped out of the plane if Saito would have let him. Mark opened the door as soon as they had made sure there were no zombies waiting outside.
“Good luck to the both of you,” Mark said as he grabbed his pack and checked to make sure his guns were all loaded. “I can’t go with you to find your girl, Rob. I have to find my family. I hope she’s safe, though.”
“I do not think you should go off alone,” Saito said, frowning. “Come with us, and once we have secured Miss Ariadne, we will go to find your wife and daughters.”
“I can’t.” Mark handed Fischer his bag with a smile. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t wait that long to see them. To know if they’re okay. I’ll keep my phone on. When we’ve both found who we’re looking for, let’s all go back to New York. Together.”
Fischer looked conflicted, but he knew how Mark must feel. He was already itching to get on the road and out to Bonanza, to reunite with Ariadne. He held out his hand.
“Stay safe, Mark. I hope you find your family well, and if you get into any trouble, you call us. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Mark smiled and wrapped Fischer’s hand in his warm grip. “I was a marine. I don’t do unnecessary risks.” His smile dropped for only a second, and then it was back, softer. “You guys stay safe, too. I want to see you again.”
Saito nodded to him, and then shook his hand as well. “You will. Do not worry.”
Then they secured the plane and headed off into the hostile world in opposite directions.
-ooo-
1:20 pm, Bonanza, Colorado
“Ariadne?” Fischer was out of the stolen car so fast that it hadn’t even stopped moving before his feet were on the ground. The house was quiet, but the front door was ajar. He could feel his breath catch in his throat.
“Ariadne!”
It was only Saito’s hand on his shoulder that kept him from charging recklessly into the house. Instead, he slowed and took a breath before checking to see that his gun was loaded and approaching the door at a more careful pace.
Bracing his shoulder against the wood, he pushed the door fully open and swung his gun in a wide arc of cover.
Nothing moved inside.
He lowered his gun slightly and jerked his head to call Saito over. Together they stepped into the wreckage of what once must have been a beautiful foyer. There was a shattered vase in front of them, littering the floor with blue glass gems and cheerfully colored fake flowers. Beyond them laid a fragmented table, its dark wood as splintered as the mirror that reflected their shocked faces.
There were long, uneven scores in the walls that lead to the dining area, and the wooden doorframe had a butcher’s knife embedded in it. His anxiety rising, Fischer turned the corner into the kitchen. All of the chairs were either tipped over or knocked askew, and the cup of writing utensils usually by the phone was on the ground, its pens and pencils spread out in an artful arc around the feet they saw sticking out from behind the counter.
“Oh God…”
And then Fischer was there, kneeling next to Ariadne, brushing her hair out of her face and trying to see if she was all right, if she had been bitten, if she was injured…
“…Ro…b?”
“Shhh, Ari, it’s okay. I’m here. How do you feel? What happened?”
“I…I think I hit my head.” The girl winced and struggled a little to sit up, and Fischer had to help her. “Where is everyone else?”
“We were kind of hoping you could tell us,” Fischer answered, glancing around the house again. “How long were you out?”
“Not long, I don’t think. For a long time Mal just stalked around in the back hall and the bedrooms. She only recently started attacking. …Where is she? Is she-”
Saito, who had left them to check the rooms, returned with a man who looked to be African and a young blond boy. From another room down the hall came a nervous man with messy black hair and shifting dark eyes.
Appearing from upstairs came an older man and woman, the man armed with a baseball bat and the woman with a broom.
“This is Yusuf and James,” Saito informed him, gesturing to each of his two companions in turn when they were closer.
“Nash,” the jumpy one said from where he stood, hanging back.
“I’m Miles and this is Marie,” the elderly man greeted. “We’re certainly glad to see some other survivors.”
“Minna,” Saito continued, “I am Saito Takumi, and this is Robert Fischer.”
Fischer inclined his head, and then turned back to Ariadne. “How many other people were in the house?”
“Well…There was Cobb, Eames, Mal…and Phillipa. James, where’s your sister?”
The boy blinked, but was unresponsive. Worried, Ariadne turned her gaze to Yusuf.
“Yusuf? What happened? Where’s Cobb? And Mal? I hit my head and passed out when she jumped over the counter, but she just passed me by completely.”
“The last time I saw anyone else was when Cobb and Eames went chasing after her and Arthur.”
“Wait, Arthur was here?!” Ariadne’s head spun, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the injury or the information. What was Arthur doing there? When had he…?
“Uncle Arthur took Phillipa away with him.”
Everyone turned to look at James.
“What?” Fischer asked. James looked at him in a long-suffering way.
“Uncle Arthur came when-when Maman got out. Through the back door, and he-he grabded Phil.” The boy sniffled, and then began to cry in earnest. Marie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, picking him up and carrying him away from the group, murmuring comforting words.
Miles ducked into the bathroom and came back with some gauze and antibiotic spray, handing it to Fischer. Thanking him quietly, Fischer used a wet paper towel to clean off most of the blood from Ariadne’s face, then sprayed and bandaged the wound on her temple.
Yusuf cleared his throat. “Arthur tried to grab James, too, but Mal attacked him and chased him off. It was weird. They were animalistic, and I’ve never seen the infected act that way. After that, Cobb and Eames took off after them.”
“How long ago, Yusuf? When did they leave?”
Yusuf’s reply was interrupted by a crash from the back hallway, and then a swear. Muted voices floated down from the open doorway, one low and soothing, the other agitated.
Fischer dropped his hand to his gun.
“Don’t shoot,” Ariadne said when the two men appeared in the door. “That’s them.”
Cobb had a shaking Phillipa in his arms, and he was murmuring softly to her, rocking her gently. Eames’s mouth was drawn into a thin line, and his eyes were pained. Ariadne knew the Fischer was searching for bites on him, but she could tell it wasn’t physical injury.
She’d seen that look before, when they’d left Arthur behind.
“Eames?” she said quietly after a moment, allowing Cobb the time to comfort Phillipa. “What happened?”
He was silent until she carefully stepped over and put a hand on his arm.
“He-pet, that’s blood. Are you bleeding.” Immediately, he raised a hand to Ariadne’s head, trying not to let the fear creep into his voice. “Are you all right? You haven’t been-”
“She’s fine,” Fischer said firmly, stepping forward.
“Well, thank you for saying so, Mr. Fischer, but I’d like to make sure for myself, if you don’t mind,” Eames snapped, and his tone left no room for argument.
Fischer’s eyes narrowed, but he let Eames examine Ariadne.
“You should be fine,” the conman finally agreed, sounding relieved. He stepped back and turned to look at Fischer. “Nice to finally meet you, I suppose. My name is Eames.”
He didn’t hold out his hand, but Ariadne didn’t blame him when she saw why.
“Eames, is that blood on your hand?” Nervously, she inched a step backward.
“It is, but it’s not mine.”
“Not yours? But it can’t be Arthur’s-” The disbelief was heavy in her voice, accompanied by a sort of sad shock.
But Eames shook his head.
“Cobb wouldn’t let me get close enough for it to be Arthur’s.” There was a dark look that flitted across his face as he tightened his hand around the blood on his palm.
Cobb wasn’t looking at him.
“Then whose…?”
“It belongs to the man I killed,” the conman said matter-of-factly, meeting her eyes unflinchingly, daring her to say something. Anything.
She gasped and took a step back.
“Was he infected?” Fischer asked worryingly, raising a steadying hand to the small of her back.
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” Fischer demanded.
“Did he attack you?” Nash fretted, but Eames just shook his head. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?” Fischer snapped again, pulling Ariadne away from Eames protectively.
Saito watched impassively.
“I mean that the man was in perfect health before I suddenly and painfully ended his life.”
“Then why did you kill him?” Yusuf asked quietly, sadly.
Miles and Marie had taken James and Phillipa into the next room over, not wanting them to hear any more of this.
Eames laughed humorlessly and Cobb flinched. “Because he no longer mattered to me.” He turned away from their shocked expressions and headed for the door, tucking his gun into his waistband as he went. He grabbed the doorknob and was halfway to the steps before anyone spoke.
“Where are you going?” Ariadne whispered, but it was too loud in the silence.
“Out,” Eames replied shortly. “I need some time to think.”
“Will…will you be coming back?” Ariadne made a great effort to keep her voice from shaking. She could tell from Fischer’s body language behind her that he thought it was best that Eames didn’t return-they didn’t need a cold-blooded killer in their midst-but she didn’t care about that.
Eames had saved her life. He was her friend. If the man hadn’t been infected, there must have been a reason.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Tiredly, Eames scrubbed a hand over his face. His shoulders dropped dejectedly. “I just don’t know, Ariadne. I have no reason to come back.”
Ariadne flinched. “Do we really mean so little to you that you’d just abandon all of us? After all we’ve been through?”
Eames didn’t say anything, just turned to go.
“But-but what about the cure?” She pulled away from Fischer and took a few steps forward, beseechingly. “Don’t you need-”
“Not anymore.” Eames’s shoulders tensed back up. “The cure is no longer of interest to me.” He stepped outside.
“Why?”
Yusuf’s question paused the conman on the first step, and Cobb pressed a hand to his eyes, briefly.
“Why?” Eames repeated, softly. “Because the man I shot five times in the chest with his own gun-the man who wasn’t infected or attacking me or threatening my safety in any way-he killed Arthur.”
The door clicked quietly shut behind him.
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Next Chapter
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...Dun dun dun. :)
See you next week!