D'Autrefois - Chapter 7 - Miles below expectations
Title: D'Autrefois
Part II: Chapter 7: Miles below expectations
Author: koushi
Rating: R
Word count: 3703
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Inception and/or its creators.
Since the surprise dismantlement of the Fischer-Morrow energy conglomerate, the business world has been frantically reinvesting, hoping that their impromptu research efforts pay off in locating the next superpower in terms of global corporations.
We have with us here today the Chief Executive Officer of the Japanese corporation, Proclus Global. PG has experienced tremendous growth in the past few years with the election of controlling shareholder, Mr. Saito, to the board of directors. What are your predictions for the next quarter, sir?
I believe that potential investors should take a leap of faith and flock to Proclus Global. We are the heir to the newly vacant throne that Maurice Fischer, may he rest in peace, has left to the remaining bastions of the international business circles. The quarter will terminate in our dominance as we bring a new age of much-needed leadership upon the world.
Arthur flicked off the blaring television with his remote. Despite the volume he’d only been half-listening anyway: the news had been broadcasting nonstop on the future of the corporate world ever since Robert Fischer’s fateful press conference. He chuckled as he remembered the live telecast: the colors that Peter Browning’s face took on... Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised if EMTs were waiting just off-camera to load him onto a stretcher for resuscitation.
Plus his thoughts had wandered off to more distant realms. Ever since they’d arrived safely back in California, he’d returned to his bachelor pad-which had laid fallow during his absence-to resume a normal life. If that were still possible. He’d always had the option of stability and, strictly speaking, legal employment thanks to his invaluable work for the government. But instead he’d tagged along behind his old friend like the most loyal of canines, willing to tread on the burning embers of Hell if that were where he should choose to go. Loyalty, in his view and from his upbringing, was one of the hallmark virtues of being a worthwhile person. But it was a conflicted issue for him: while he looked upon betrayal with disgust, such as in the case of the damn architect Cobb hired against his better judgment, Arthur knew that he had been guilty of such infractions in the past...
Non, je ne regrette rien, he told himself firmly, as if repeating it would make it true. The past was the past, and, as Cobb no longer required his aid, he was now finally free from obligation. He’d spoken to a few chums with whom he’d worked on the Dreamsharing simulation program, and they’d promised him a job as a military intelligence researcher or alternatively a recruiter as soon as one of these positions opened up. So, in the meantime, there wasn’t much on his agenda besides waiting for the call.
The call that never came.
He respected the fact that his childhood friend, Cobb, had been through a traumatic series of events and needed plenty of recuperation time with the children. I understand that fully, Dom, but you know it’s been too long since I’ve seen the kids... I’m not sure how long I can stand it. Calling him, however, was out of the question.
He wanted to go out dancing and catching up with old friends, visit museums and attend concerts, take some figure drawing classes and hit the local coffee shop, and of course, his favorite, the karaoke bar... But as he’d had to get a new cell phone, the only number Cobb knew was his landline, he lamented. Thus he was stuck at home, yearning for the chimes of the ring tone.
He glanced at the illuminated clock hanging above the kitchen table. It was evening, so Ariadne should be home from her internship at a prestigious architectural firm by now. Cobb had promised to put in a good word for her: work that was not strictly speaking legal morphed into unquestionably legal work in the blink of an eye thanks to this insider reference. He had call waiting, so he didn’t think taking a few minutes to check up on Ariadne’s side of the story would do any harm. Just make sure you keep it strictly professional.
Ring, ring, ring, the dial tone repeated monotonously. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ariadne. This is Arthur. How are you doing?”
“Oh, hey Arthur! Nice to hear from you again.” Her smile was visible even from the other end of the line. “I’m doing very well. How about you?”
“I’m okay. Your internship going okay?”
“Yeah, the architects are all really helpful, and my mentor especially is the sweetest lady you’ll ever meet. I’m learning tons everyday.”
“Glad they’re treating you well,” Arthur said, relieved to be through with the nagging formalities of small talk. “Listen, I had another question for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Have you heard from Cobb lately?”
“No, why? What’s happened?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem.”
“Oh. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with him too. I was really worried about him during the job, you know, and I wanted to find out how he’s recovering.”
“Agreed, same here.” Although I must admit I’m significantly more interested in the kids’ welfare.
“Listen, you know his address right?”
“Yep.”
“Well, umm, since tomorrow is Saturday and all, how about we go over and check on him, just to see if he needs anything?” Us? Together?
“I-I guess we can do that.” At least it won’t have been my idea to barge in uninvited.
“And if he doesn’t want us there then whatever. We can just leave.”
“Sounds like a plan. You’re in those apartments we found for you, right?”
“Yeah, I’m renting a cozy little studio.”
“Okay, I’ll drop by and pick you up tomorrow around noon.” Don’t get the wrong idea, though, Ariadne, I let it slip once, but I’m really not the right man for you. You deserve better.
“I’ll be out front. See you then.”
Arthur lay back, resting his head against the back of his leather couch. Hopefully it won’t be too awkward, and Dom’ll believe that it was Ariadne’s suggestion, not just an underhanded excuse to see my kids.
***
Ariadne took extra care in getting ready the next morning. She was anything but high maintenance: a t-shirt and jeans-along with a cardigan if the weather was chilly-suited her just fine. But, although she’d never admit to the fact, ever since the dream training and that one sneaky kiss, she’d been having trouble keeping Arthur off her mind. It’s alright, she said to herself. Just let it fade away. And it was all going according to plan, her internship taking up most of her time, until that phone call.
She’d almost kicked herself for asking him to go to Cobb’s house together, as if he could see it was a ploy to be able to see him again. But to just let him hang up like that with such an opportunity in front of their faces, she couldn’t let it all go to waste. Hopefully Cobb will be there, so it won’t be so awkward.
It was a bit windy outside, so she decided to wear her prettiest scarf on top of her usual ensemble of a long cotton top and boyfriend jeans. It was a light blue Hermes and made of soft silk: her mother had sent it to her for her last birthday. She smoothed on some tinted lip balm, slung her messenger bag over her shoulder, and was on her way.
Arthur, always punctual, was already waiting in the parking lot, his face visible from the driver’s side window of his sleek black sedan. Upon approaching the car, however, she noticed something about him looked off, as if he hadn’t slept much if at all. “Hey.”
“Hey, what’s wrong? Did you have a rough night?” she pondered, climbing in and plopping onto the seat next to him. Arthur was dressed in a starched button-down shirt in cream, a red-and-blue striped tie, and tan slacks. The stereo was hooked up to his iPod, which was playing Bach’s Cello Suites.
“Oh,” he laughed weakly. “I was just up late watching TV, you know how that goes.”
She nodded, not willing to push the subject any further. “So have you even spoken to him at all since the Fischer job?”
“Nope.”
She hesitated. “That seems a little strange.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”
“Hm. I guess you could say that. We’ve known each other for the longest time.”
“You don’t share much in the way of... I don’t know... emotional issues, do you?”
“That’s not what guys talk about with their friends.”
“Oh, what do they talk about then, if guys are really such creatures apart from us girls,” Ariadne replied, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not saying it’s a good thing,” Arthur smiled. “Bottling things up like a lot of us do. But we do show our support through other means, such as actions, more so than open discussion.”
“I guess I could see that,” Ariadne shrugged, not entirely convinced. “I wasn’t sure if you were aware, though, of the issues Cobb was having.”
“Ariadne. I’m not blind. I knew perfectly well what was happening with him.”
She sent him an outraged look. “And you didn’t stop him? He was way too unstable to risk participation in that job.”
“He was my commander, and I owed him a duty. And that duty was to respect his judgment.”
“Even when he’s wrong?”
“That’s not my place to judge.”
His crisp black-and-white philosophical lines certainly did extend to his pristine, proper way of dress. Never was there a thread hanging loose or a scuffed shoe with Arthur. Sometimes she longed to be able to believe in absolutes, like he seemed to, as it made muddying through the grey areas a moot endeavor. To avoid further broadening the gap between them, Ariadne shrewdly chose to change the subject to happenings at her firm, about which she chattered until they reached their destination.
The house was single-story with a sprawled, wide layout and a large backyard. From the driveway Ariadne could see hints of color through the fence, indicating a children’s playscape. There was a small plot laid out for a flower garden in the front yard, but it hadn’t been tended to in a long time as evidenced by the shriveled plants, and the bushes lining the brick walls were in desperate need of a trim. Several large trees shaded the walkway to the front door.
“What do we do if he’s not home?” Ariadne asked. There was no other car in the driveway, and the garage door was closed.
“I guess we can leave a note or something, saying you came by and were interested in how he was doing,” Arthur suggested. But I won’t sign it.
Ariadne nodded and rang the doorbell. They waited, the seconds ticking by. Then she knocked on the door a couple of times. The window curtain next to the door rustled and then a click as the door was unlatched.
When the door opened, the two of them were stunned.
“Oh, hello, Professor Miles,” Ariadne exclaimed, automatically blushing. “I forgot that you were going to be here.”
“Memory is a fickle thing,” he replied, eyes scooting back and forth from one to the other like a pendulum. She couldn’t tell if the momentary wrinkling of his nose was a grimace or due instead to the shadow puppets of the tree branches above the doorstep.
“Um, may we come in?” Arthur asked, all the while flitting his eyes to try to ascertain what lurked in the depths of the house.
“Of course,” Miles said, opening the door all the way. “How rude of me. Please do come in.”
As they walked into the entrance area, a wall mirror to their right and an end table wearing a hat of fresh tulips to the left, the guests heard a sliding door open and the excited shrieks of a child grow louder and louder.
“Uncle Arthur! Uncle Arthur!” James came running, eyes lit up in glee at the sight of his favorite “relative.” He did, after all, give the best Christmas presents. Arthur took the boy into his arms for a bear hug and ruffled his hair with a beaming smile.
“Uncle Arthur, you should see what we made,” he said, beckoning to the backyard where his older sister, Phillipa, was encircled by a palette of finger paints and several swaths of construction paper.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said to the other adults, though lacking the barest hint of remorse, “but if you’ll excuse me.”
No, don’t leave me, Arthur. Ariadne tried not to visibly squirm as she was faced with small talk with her widely-respected professor after minutes ago barging into his summer home where he was spending time with his grandchildren. Yeah, smooth move, Ariadne.
“You’re enjoying your summer work, I assume?” Miles questioned as he started for the study, which was just a few feet down the hall. The hardwood floors changed into carpet as they entered the room which earned its name with its deep viridian-colored walls and cherrywood bookshelves lined with volume after volume of encyclopedias, erudite treatises, and prominent works of literature.
“Ridiculously so,” she said, preoccupied with taking in the antique charm of her surroundings. “I still have to thank you for writing that recommendation letter.”
“Anything for one of my best and brightest,” he said, waving for her to step fully inside. He leaned a hand on the desk near the window, which was covered by long damask drapes. There were several piles of papers sitting atop the surface of the desk along with a small metal case. “Are you taking one of your upper level seminars with me next year?”
“I’m afraid not,” she replied with genuine dismay. “The one I wanted was full, so I am in the Eco-friendly Architecture class with Dr. Cooper.”
“Ah, Dr. Cooper. You will not be disappointed,” he smiled. That same knowing smile he adopted every time she visited his office hours. She wondered what was behind those unblinking eyes.
“I would definitely love to discuss History of Architecture with you though, some time. But I’m afraid Arthur and I came here today for a different reason,” she asked, in a spontaneous burst of bravery.
“And what would that be?” He studied her carefully, without revealing anything on his part.
“We were wondering how Cobb was doing. But it looks like he’s out. It’s okay though, really. We can come back later,” Ariadne said hurriedly, excusing her presumptive prying.
“Don’t worry,” Miles said, face still unchanged but something darker in his mood. He began to tinker with the small case, flipping the fasteners and opening it up. She couldn’t get a good view of the inside but imagined it contained a PASIV. “The threat has been eliminated.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“You’re smart enough to have figured it out,” he said, fidgeting with something in the case. It wasn’t visible from her angle. “I volunteered your services because I assumed you would have realized my intentions.”
“I... I apologize, Professor Miles, but I have no idea what you’re getting at.”
He laughed. “Did Dominick Cobb’s wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing disguise fool you as well?”
She was speechless.
Miles started stepping forward, inch by inch, a look of determination on his face. He was holding a small clear object in his hand, but she was still unable to make out the details. What is he doing? she asked herself fervently. And what should I do?
“It was plain to see that I meant for you to sabotage his ill-fated mission. But what did you do instead? You single handedly salvaged that sunken ship and dragged it back to shore.”
She stepped back, closer to the bookcase, fearful of his intentions.
“And now you come here, asking too many questions. I offered you a way out. You could have forgotten all of this even happened. But no, now you’re saddled with the burden, the burden of knowing too much,” he continued, cornering her against the wall of books. His deep wrinkles were more apparent from close-up as was the emotion in his face, now that his shell was cracked. It spelled out grief.
“My daughter was like you. A sweet, innocent girl with so much potential. She could have gone anywhere, done anything. But then she was tainted, violated, and spoiled by that treacherous knave, your friend, Cobb. She was meant for so much more. Just like you.”
Ariadne’s pupils were dilated like a mouse about to be snatched up by a hawk. She could hardly think, hardly breathe, yet she managed to mumble, “It wasn’t his fault. He-he loved her.”
“And yet she’s gone now. A whole lot of good his purported ‘love’ did for her. She went on a trip to slumber land, and the gates closed behind her.” His hot breath tickled her eyebrows as he spoke, inches from her face.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight. She wanted to run. But something about being trapped rendered her immobile. Mom. Dad. Arthur... I had so much to say to you.
“Now let me put you to sleep. You won’t even feel a thing,” he said, brandishing the syringe in his grip and lifting it up towards Ariadne’s neck. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Say hello to Mal for me.”
“Tell her yourself,” Arthur’s voice said from the doorway, a split second before a blast issued from his Glock.
Bang.
A barrage of bullets pounded a clip through Miles’ skull, ripping through the bone like butter. The metal ricocheted through the insides, fragments shredding the contents like a blender and exiting in messy shards, the majority of which through his other temple.
She saw red. She was red. Everything was red.
Miles’ body, now with only the barest semblance of a head, crumpled to the ground, first falling to its knees as if in prayer and then lurching forward to slam against the ground with a deep thud. It moved no more.
She was drenched in mortality.
Every emotion that she’d ever felt coursed through her veins, mounting up to release through her lungs.
She. Had. To. Scream.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” Arthur said, his hand over Ariadne’s mouth to muffle the bellows. He let her bite his hand, waiting for the screams to die down. “Look, I will deal with the kids. You go on down the hall and get yourself cleaned off and changed. Mal’s clothes are still in the walk-in closet of the master bedroom.”
She stared at him in utter shock, tears dripping from her eyes, the words meaning nothing to her.
“Dammit, Ariadne, this is no time for crying. Save it for later and let’s get out of here, preferably without dragging the kids through this fucking mess,” Arthur remonstrated, gesturing at the pool of blood soaking into the carpet and the pieces of Miles splotched onto the books of the study like some zombie Jackson Pollack art experiment.
Ariadne nodded as if in a trance. Do it, she said to herself, do what Arthur says. Trust him to get you out of here and away from this and pretend this never happened oh god please I wish I had never decided to come today. But she took a deep breath and waddled out of the room, disturbed by the notion of having to peek around corners for the unknown.
As she left, Arthur made sure his appearance was decent enough to face the kids. Finding a bloodstain on his shirt from holding Ariadne, he retrieved a jacket of Cobb’s from the rack in the hallway, picked up his briefcase from the entrance area, and returned to get to work.
First he patted down Miles’ body, searching his pocket for any incriminating evidence. He pulled out his wallet and cell phone, both of which would serve their purpose, he was sure. Then Arthur quickly opened all the drawers-including one with a particularly stubborn lock-and thumbed through the files within. Most of them didn’t pertain to Miles whatsoever: birth records for the children, car rentals, deeds. Next he sifted through the documents on the desk. Aha. These were more recent bills and letters addressed to Miles himself. He gathered them neatly into a stack and eased the load into his case.
Then Arthur spotted Miles’ PASIV case out of the corner of his eye. It had an empty compartment for the syringe that was accounted for but also something sitting in the crevice of the black velvet, glimmering as the light caught it. Upon picking it up, Arthur realized it was Mal’s totem. Like a boomerang, Arthur gave a half-smile and let it drop into the inner pocket of his jacket, looking around to make sure he wasn’t seen.
When Ariadne returned, face still pale and eyes still dilated, Arthur was in the middle of cleaning off his fingerprints from the gun and placing it into Miles’ hand, making sure that his fingertips touched all over the metal handle. Although still obviously tormented, washing his blood-soaked remains from her body did seem to cleanse her internally as well. She was now dressed in Mal’s capris-which due to her height fit her like pants-and a dress shirt, holding her soaked clothing on one arm, including the once-lovely scarf.
“The... the syringe,” Ariadne pointed to the tiny translucent object next to the potted plant. Arthur smiled, picking it up carefully and folding it up within a handkerchief to dispose of later. He nodded thankfully at Ariadne for her insight. Perhaps she’s made of tougher stuff than she looks, he chuckled.
“How... how did you know?”
“I already had a suspicion about the old man, so I asked Phillipa, ‘When was the last time you saw Daddy?’ When she said she hadn’t for a few days, and Grandpa Miles said he wasn’t ever coming back... well, the answer was glaringly obvious,” Arthur explained.
“Th-thank you for saving my life,” Ariadne said with sincerity.
“It was nothing. But we have to get out of here. I’ll round up the kids, and here,” he handed her the keys, “get in the car, and let’s scoot.”
Next Chapter
D'Autrefois - Master Post
Part II: Chapter 7: Miles below expectations
Author: koushi
Rating: R
Word count: 3703
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I in any way affiliated with Inception and/or its creators.
Since the surprise dismantlement of the Fischer-Morrow energy conglomerate, the business world has been frantically reinvesting, hoping that their impromptu research efforts pay off in locating the next superpower in terms of global corporations.
We have with us here today the Chief Executive Officer of the Japanese corporation, Proclus Global. PG has experienced tremendous growth in the past few years with the election of controlling shareholder, Mr. Saito, to the board of directors. What are your predictions for the next quarter, sir?
I believe that potential investors should take a leap of faith and flock to Proclus Global. We are the heir to the newly vacant throne that Maurice Fischer, may he rest in peace, has left to the remaining bastions of the international business circles. The quarter will terminate in our dominance as we bring a new age of much-needed leadership upon the world.
Arthur flicked off the blaring television with his remote. Despite the volume he’d only been half-listening anyway: the news had been broadcasting nonstop on the future of the corporate world ever since Robert Fischer’s fateful press conference. He chuckled as he remembered the live telecast: the colors that Peter Browning’s face took on... Arthur wouldn’t have been surprised if EMTs were waiting just off-camera to load him onto a stretcher for resuscitation.
Plus his thoughts had wandered off to more distant realms. Ever since they’d arrived safely back in California, he’d returned to his bachelor pad-which had laid fallow during his absence-to resume a normal life. If that were still possible. He’d always had the option of stability and, strictly speaking, legal employment thanks to his invaluable work for the government. But instead he’d tagged along behind his old friend like the most loyal of canines, willing to tread on the burning embers of Hell if that were where he should choose to go. Loyalty, in his view and from his upbringing, was one of the hallmark virtues of being a worthwhile person. But it was a conflicted issue for him: while he looked upon betrayal with disgust, such as in the case of the damn architect Cobb hired against his better judgment, Arthur knew that he had been guilty of such infractions in the past...
Non, je ne regrette rien, he told himself firmly, as if repeating it would make it true. The past was the past, and, as Cobb no longer required his aid, he was now finally free from obligation. He’d spoken to a few chums with whom he’d worked on the Dreamsharing simulation program, and they’d promised him a job as a military intelligence researcher or alternatively a recruiter as soon as one of these positions opened up. So, in the meantime, there wasn’t much on his agenda besides waiting for the call.
The call that never came.
He respected the fact that his childhood friend, Cobb, had been through a traumatic series of events and needed plenty of recuperation time with the children. I understand that fully, Dom, but you know it’s been too long since I’ve seen the kids... I’m not sure how long I can stand it. Calling him, however, was out of the question.
He wanted to go out dancing and catching up with old friends, visit museums and attend concerts, take some figure drawing classes and hit the local coffee shop, and of course, his favorite, the karaoke bar... But as he’d had to get a new cell phone, the only number Cobb knew was his landline, he lamented. Thus he was stuck at home, yearning for the chimes of the ring tone.
He glanced at the illuminated clock hanging above the kitchen table. It was evening, so Ariadne should be home from her internship at a prestigious architectural firm by now. Cobb had promised to put in a good word for her: work that was not strictly speaking legal morphed into unquestionably legal work in the blink of an eye thanks to this insider reference. He had call waiting, so he didn’t think taking a few minutes to check up on Ariadne’s side of the story would do any harm. Just make sure you keep it strictly professional.
Ring, ring, ring, the dial tone repeated monotonously. “Hello?”
“Hello, Ariadne. This is Arthur. How are you doing?”
“Oh, hey Arthur! Nice to hear from you again.” Her smile was visible even from the other end of the line. “I’m doing very well. How about you?”
“I’m okay. Your internship going okay?”
“Yeah, the architects are all really helpful, and my mentor especially is the sweetest lady you’ll ever meet. I’m learning tons everyday.”
“Glad they’re treating you well,” Arthur said, relieved to be through with the nagging formalities of small talk. “Listen, I had another question for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Have you heard from Cobb lately?”
“No, why? What’s happened?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem.”
“Oh. I’ve been meaning to get in touch with him too. I was really worried about him during the job, you know, and I wanted to find out how he’s recovering.”
“Agreed, same here.” Although I must admit I’m significantly more interested in the kids’ welfare.
“Listen, you know his address right?”
“Yep.”
“Well, umm, since tomorrow is Saturday and all, how about we go over and check on him, just to see if he needs anything?” Us? Together?
“I-I guess we can do that.” At least it won’t have been my idea to barge in uninvited.
“And if he doesn’t want us there then whatever. We can just leave.”
“Sounds like a plan. You’re in those apartments we found for you, right?”
“Yeah, I’m renting a cozy little studio.”
“Okay, I’ll drop by and pick you up tomorrow around noon.” Don’t get the wrong idea, though, Ariadne, I let it slip once, but I’m really not the right man for you. You deserve better.
“I’ll be out front. See you then.”
Arthur lay back, resting his head against the back of his leather couch. Hopefully it won’t be too awkward, and Dom’ll believe that it was Ariadne’s suggestion, not just an underhanded excuse to see my kids.
***
Ariadne took extra care in getting ready the next morning. She was anything but high maintenance: a t-shirt and jeans-along with a cardigan if the weather was chilly-suited her just fine. But, although she’d never admit to the fact, ever since the dream training and that one sneaky kiss, she’d been having trouble keeping Arthur off her mind. It’s alright, she said to herself. Just let it fade away. And it was all going according to plan, her internship taking up most of her time, until that phone call.
She’d almost kicked herself for asking him to go to Cobb’s house together, as if he could see it was a ploy to be able to see him again. But to just let him hang up like that with such an opportunity in front of their faces, she couldn’t let it all go to waste. Hopefully Cobb will be there, so it won’t be so awkward.
It was a bit windy outside, so she decided to wear her prettiest scarf on top of her usual ensemble of a long cotton top and boyfriend jeans. It was a light blue Hermes and made of soft silk: her mother had sent it to her for her last birthday. She smoothed on some tinted lip balm, slung her messenger bag over her shoulder, and was on her way.
Arthur, always punctual, was already waiting in the parking lot, his face visible from the driver’s side window of his sleek black sedan. Upon approaching the car, however, she noticed something about him looked off, as if he hadn’t slept much if at all. “Hey.”
“Hey, what’s wrong? Did you have a rough night?” she pondered, climbing in and plopping onto the seat next to him. Arthur was dressed in a starched button-down shirt in cream, a red-and-blue striped tie, and tan slacks. The stereo was hooked up to his iPod, which was playing Bach’s Cello Suites.
“Oh,” he laughed weakly. “I was just up late watching TV, you know how that goes.”
She nodded, not willing to push the subject any further. “So have you even spoken to him at all since the Fischer job?”
“Nope.”
She hesitated. “That seems a little strange.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”
“Hm. I guess you could say that. We’ve known each other for the longest time.”
“You don’t share much in the way of... I don’t know... emotional issues, do you?”
“That’s not what guys talk about with their friends.”
“Oh, what do they talk about then, if guys are really such creatures apart from us girls,” Ariadne replied, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not saying it’s a good thing,” Arthur smiled. “Bottling things up like a lot of us do. But we do show our support through other means, such as actions, more so than open discussion.”
“I guess I could see that,” Ariadne shrugged, not entirely convinced. “I wasn’t sure if you were aware, though, of the issues Cobb was having.”
“Ariadne. I’m not blind. I knew perfectly well what was happening with him.”
She sent him an outraged look. “And you didn’t stop him? He was way too unstable to risk participation in that job.”
“He was my commander, and I owed him a duty. And that duty was to respect his judgment.”
“Even when he’s wrong?”
“That’s not my place to judge.”
His crisp black-and-white philosophical lines certainly did extend to his pristine, proper way of dress. Never was there a thread hanging loose or a scuffed shoe with Arthur. Sometimes she longed to be able to believe in absolutes, like he seemed to, as it made muddying through the grey areas a moot endeavor. To avoid further broadening the gap between them, Ariadne shrewdly chose to change the subject to happenings at her firm, about which she chattered until they reached their destination.
The house was single-story with a sprawled, wide layout and a large backyard. From the driveway Ariadne could see hints of color through the fence, indicating a children’s playscape. There was a small plot laid out for a flower garden in the front yard, but it hadn’t been tended to in a long time as evidenced by the shriveled plants, and the bushes lining the brick walls were in desperate need of a trim. Several large trees shaded the walkway to the front door.
“What do we do if he’s not home?” Ariadne asked. There was no other car in the driveway, and the garage door was closed.
“I guess we can leave a note or something, saying you came by and were interested in how he was doing,” Arthur suggested. But I won’t sign it.
Ariadne nodded and rang the doorbell. They waited, the seconds ticking by. Then she knocked on the door a couple of times. The window curtain next to the door rustled and then a click as the door was unlatched.
When the door opened, the two of them were stunned.
“Oh, hello, Professor Miles,” Ariadne exclaimed, automatically blushing. “I forgot that you were going to be here.”
“Memory is a fickle thing,” he replied, eyes scooting back and forth from one to the other like a pendulum. She couldn’t tell if the momentary wrinkling of his nose was a grimace or due instead to the shadow puppets of the tree branches above the doorstep.
“Um, may we come in?” Arthur asked, all the while flitting his eyes to try to ascertain what lurked in the depths of the house.
“Of course,” Miles said, opening the door all the way. “How rude of me. Please do come in.”
As they walked into the entrance area, a wall mirror to their right and an end table wearing a hat of fresh tulips to the left, the guests heard a sliding door open and the excited shrieks of a child grow louder and louder.
“Uncle Arthur! Uncle Arthur!” James came running, eyes lit up in glee at the sight of his favorite “relative.” He did, after all, give the best Christmas presents. Arthur took the boy into his arms for a bear hug and ruffled his hair with a beaming smile.
“Uncle Arthur, you should see what we made,” he said, beckoning to the backyard where his older sister, Phillipa, was encircled by a palette of finger paints and several swaths of construction paper.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur said to the other adults, though lacking the barest hint of remorse, “but if you’ll excuse me.”
No, don’t leave me, Arthur. Ariadne tried not to visibly squirm as she was faced with small talk with her widely-respected professor after minutes ago barging into his summer home where he was spending time with his grandchildren. Yeah, smooth move, Ariadne.
“You’re enjoying your summer work, I assume?” Miles questioned as he started for the study, which was just a few feet down the hall. The hardwood floors changed into carpet as they entered the room which earned its name with its deep viridian-colored walls and cherrywood bookshelves lined with volume after volume of encyclopedias, erudite treatises, and prominent works of literature.
“Ridiculously so,” she said, preoccupied with taking in the antique charm of her surroundings. “I still have to thank you for writing that recommendation letter.”
“Anything for one of my best and brightest,” he said, waving for her to step fully inside. He leaned a hand on the desk near the window, which was covered by long damask drapes. There were several piles of papers sitting atop the surface of the desk along with a small metal case. “Are you taking one of your upper level seminars with me next year?”
“I’m afraid not,” she replied with genuine dismay. “The one I wanted was full, so I am in the Eco-friendly Architecture class with Dr. Cooper.”
“Ah, Dr. Cooper. You will not be disappointed,” he smiled. That same knowing smile he adopted every time she visited his office hours. She wondered what was behind those unblinking eyes.
“I would definitely love to discuss History of Architecture with you though, some time. But I’m afraid Arthur and I came here today for a different reason,” she asked, in a spontaneous burst of bravery.
“And what would that be?” He studied her carefully, without revealing anything on his part.
“We were wondering how Cobb was doing. But it looks like he’s out. It’s okay though, really. We can come back later,” Ariadne said hurriedly, excusing her presumptive prying.
“Don’t worry,” Miles said, face still unchanged but something darker in his mood. He began to tinker with the small case, flipping the fasteners and opening it up. She couldn’t get a good view of the inside but imagined it contained a PASIV. “The threat has been eliminated.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?”
“You’re smart enough to have figured it out,” he said, fidgeting with something in the case. It wasn’t visible from her angle. “I volunteered your services because I assumed you would have realized my intentions.”
“I... I apologize, Professor Miles, but I have no idea what you’re getting at.”
He laughed. “Did Dominick Cobb’s wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing disguise fool you as well?”
She was speechless.
Miles started stepping forward, inch by inch, a look of determination on his face. He was holding a small clear object in his hand, but she was still unable to make out the details. What is he doing? she asked herself fervently. And what should I do?
“It was plain to see that I meant for you to sabotage his ill-fated mission. But what did you do instead? You single handedly salvaged that sunken ship and dragged it back to shore.”
She stepped back, closer to the bookcase, fearful of his intentions.
“And now you come here, asking too many questions. I offered you a way out. You could have forgotten all of this even happened. But no, now you’re saddled with the burden, the burden of knowing too much,” he continued, cornering her against the wall of books. His deep wrinkles were more apparent from close-up as was the emotion in his face, now that his shell was cracked. It spelled out grief.
“My daughter was like you. A sweet, innocent girl with so much potential. She could have gone anywhere, done anything. But then she was tainted, violated, and spoiled by that treacherous knave, your friend, Cobb. She was meant for so much more. Just like you.”
Ariadne’s pupils were dilated like a mouse about to be snatched up by a hawk. She could hardly think, hardly breathe, yet she managed to mumble, “It wasn’t his fault. He-he loved her.”
“And yet she’s gone now. A whole lot of good his purported ‘love’ did for her. She went on a trip to slumber land, and the gates closed behind her.” His hot breath tickled her eyebrows as he spoke, inches from her face.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight. She wanted to run. But something about being trapped rendered her immobile. Mom. Dad. Arthur... I had so much to say to you.
“Now let me put you to sleep. You won’t even feel a thing,” he said, brandishing the syringe in his grip and lifting it up towards Ariadne’s neck. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Say hello to Mal for me.”
“Tell her yourself,” Arthur’s voice said from the doorway, a split second before a blast issued from his Glock.
Bang.
A barrage of bullets pounded a clip through Miles’ skull, ripping through the bone like butter. The metal ricocheted through the insides, fragments shredding the contents like a blender and exiting in messy shards, the majority of which through his other temple.
She saw red. She was red. Everything was red.
Miles’ body, now with only the barest semblance of a head, crumpled to the ground, first falling to its knees as if in prayer and then lurching forward to slam against the ground with a deep thud. It moved no more.
She was drenched in mortality.
Every emotion that she’d ever felt coursed through her veins, mounting up to release through her lungs.
She. Had. To. Scream.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” Arthur said, his hand over Ariadne’s mouth to muffle the bellows. He let her bite his hand, waiting for the screams to die down. “Look, I will deal with the kids. You go on down the hall and get yourself cleaned off and changed. Mal’s clothes are still in the walk-in closet of the master bedroom.”
She stared at him in utter shock, tears dripping from her eyes, the words meaning nothing to her.
“Dammit, Ariadne, this is no time for crying. Save it for later and let’s get out of here, preferably without dragging the kids through this fucking mess,” Arthur remonstrated, gesturing at the pool of blood soaking into the carpet and the pieces of Miles splotched onto the books of the study like some zombie Jackson Pollack art experiment.
Ariadne nodded as if in a trance. Do it, she said to herself, do what Arthur says. Trust him to get you out of here and away from this and pretend this never happened oh god please I wish I had never decided to come today. But she took a deep breath and waddled out of the room, disturbed by the notion of having to peek around corners for the unknown.
As she left, Arthur made sure his appearance was decent enough to face the kids. Finding a bloodstain on his shirt from holding Ariadne, he retrieved a jacket of Cobb’s from the rack in the hallway, picked up his briefcase from the entrance area, and returned to get to work.
First he patted down Miles’ body, searching his pocket for any incriminating evidence. He pulled out his wallet and cell phone, both of which would serve their purpose, he was sure. Then Arthur quickly opened all the drawers-including one with a particularly stubborn lock-and thumbed through the files within. Most of them didn’t pertain to Miles whatsoever: birth records for the children, car rentals, deeds. Next he sifted through the documents on the desk. Aha. These were more recent bills and letters addressed to Miles himself. He gathered them neatly into a stack and eased the load into his case.
Then Arthur spotted Miles’ PASIV case out of the corner of his eye. It had an empty compartment for the syringe that was accounted for but also something sitting in the crevice of the black velvet, glimmering as the light caught it. Upon picking it up, Arthur realized it was Mal’s totem. Like a boomerang, Arthur gave a half-smile and let it drop into the inner pocket of his jacket, looking around to make sure he wasn’t seen.
When Ariadne returned, face still pale and eyes still dilated, Arthur was in the middle of cleaning off his fingerprints from the gun and placing it into Miles’ hand, making sure that his fingertips touched all over the metal handle. Although still obviously tormented, washing his blood-soaked remains from her body did seem to cleanse her internally as well. She was now dressed in Mal’s capris-which due to her height fit her like pants-and a dress shirt, holding her soaked clothing on one arm, including the once-lovely scarf.
“The... the syringe,” Ariadne pointed to the tiny translucent object next to the potted plant. Arthur smiled, picking it up carefully and folding it up within a handkerchief to dispose of later. He nodded thankfully at Ariadne for her insight. Perhaps she’s made of tougher stuff than she looks, he chuckled.
“How... how did you know?”
“I already had a suspicion about the old man, so I asked Phillipa, ‘When was the last time you saw Daddy?’ When she said she hadn’t for a few days, and Grandpa Miles said he wasn’t ever coming back... well, the answer was glaringly obvious,” Arthur explained.
“Th-thank you for saving my life,” Ariadne said with sincerity.
“It was nothing. But we have to get out of here. I’ll round up the kids, and here,” he handed her the keys, “get in the car, and let’s scoot.”
Next Chapter
D'Autrefois - Master Post