The Consequences of Trust (Part 3)
Author's notes: A huge thanks to sho_no_tabi for letting me use a observation from one of her amazing stories in my own. I love when somebody writes something that just makes you go "yes that is exactly how it is." Which tabi is amazing at because she does it time and time again in her fiction.
Beta(s): space_raider182 and queenofinfinite
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the Christopher Nolan and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. They are not mine, I just like to play with them.
______
Part 1 Part 2
Arthur is going to have a panic attack. He hasn’t had one of these since the live ammo obstacle course during basic training, back when he was still very much a kid and had never been shot at before. Well, he hasn’t had a panic attack since then if you don’t count earlier when he woke from the dream of course. That was just a reaction to the pain. Right?
The mark is still sedated on the hotel bed, but Jackson and Eames are milling about the room helping to clean. It’s not that he’s nervous about getting caught now, or getting out. It’s not that he’s worried that he’d passed out for near an hour after getting murdered in the dream, though that still lingers in his mind. It’s the look that Eames gave him upon waking when time on the PASIV ran out. The man didn’t avert his gaze sheepishly, or apologize, or soften at all. He didn’t have any of the reactions one would expect from someone who regrets anything. Instead he just stared at Arthur, cold and calculating, until Arthur was forced to look away and retreat to the bathroom for refuge.
He’s picturing it now, Eames’ gray eyes sharply focused, for too long, like he was trying to take something apart with his mind. That something being Arthur. So Arthur proceeds to wipe the bathroom surfaces of fingerprints while he again struggles to regulate his breathing. It’s becoming the trend of the day it seems. But he really needs to not black out this time, Weiss won’t be sedated for that much longer.
The group clears out minutes later scattering through the city to wait until they can safely return to the safe house. Jackson leaves first without much ceremony and Ariadne quickly after but not without a last worried glance, a squeeze of the hand and a sigh. He appreciates it; he really does, even if it does exasperate him slightly.
Eames lingers uncomfortably long, but he doesn’t say a word. Arthur is always the last one to leave and he wishes Eames would just go already so he can get the fuck out of this room and as far away from Weiss as possible. When Eames finally exits the tightness in Arthur’s lungs releases some. He picks up the PASIV and heads out to wander New York for a while before he has meet with the team and contact their client.
***
It’s been six months since the Weiss job and Arthur hasn’t accepted more. He hasn’t needed to financially, but that’s just an excuse he gives himself for turning everything down. He’s usually itching for something to do after a month at most, but he hasn’t felt the need to take anything on until now. He’s finally restless, but he’s hesitant for some reason. He tries to push that feeling away. He’ll just find an easy job.
He works with Ariadne and a fairly new but talented extractor named Wild. And if Arthur is a little paranoid, diving into his research more than is probably necessary; he can blame it on being out of the game for longer than usual.
The truth is far from that. He works himself ragged because he doesn’t trust his own research. He doesn’t trust Wild’s game plan. He doesn’t trust not knowing what’s going to happen when he gets the mark down into the dream. Usually he can work with that. His job is to work with criminals, ultimately people he can’t trust, and deal with it. But for some reason it’s different this time. And dammit this is supposed to be an easy job.
It’s ten at night and Arthur is running through his notes for the millionth time when Ariande lightly touches his shoulder. He can barely suppress flinching but he steels himself and turns in his chair to face her.
“Are you ok Arthur?”
“Yes.” His answer is curt. Ariadne hesitates, biting her lip nervously, but eventually continues.
“You seem a little tense lately.”
“I’m fine,” he insists. He could give her excuses but she’s too observant for that. It’s better for him to stay silent and just get through this job so she doesn’t pick his lies apart and try and weasel her way into his problems like she did with Cobb.
“Ok, well don’t work too late. Even you need sleep.” She hangs her bag off of her shoulder, patting his shoulder lightly, and heads home for the night. Arthur tries not to think about how true her words really are.
He’s been having nightmares. They’ve been coming on more frequently as they get closer to the job. At first he couldn’t remember anything about them, he’d just wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing, a scream just waiting to erupt. He’d lost the ability to dream years ago with how much he had been working, so this is disconcerting. He hadn’t been off Somnacin long enough for them to return really. The fact that he can’t remember his nightmares is even more troubling. He’s trained to recall these things.
As the extraction draws near he’s able to start picking out a few coherent flashes from the dreams. He’s haunted by cold gray eyes that penetrate his very being. Those eyes aren’t supposed to look that way. They are supposed to look witty, amused, and intelligent. They are not supposed to look empty and dull. They aren’t supposed to leave him with a sense of forbidding.
There’s something else there too. The dreams are wrapped in tension. It’s like an ache in his chest. It’s like something he’s known is being stolen away from him. He’s always enjoyed the way Eames looked at him and he thinks fond. But now, the thought of Eames’ eyes just makes him sick. It leaves him feeling hollow and lost.
That might be the worst part.
***
Arthur doesn’t accept jobs for a long time after he completes the extraction with Ariadne. She’s contacted him for a few, but he had been evasive and she’d given in to his excuses when he said he’d been too busy, or the job didn’t pay well enough, or any other lie he could shell out.
The inevitable day comes when Ariadne doesn’t take no for an answer.
“Arthur, I need you. You are the best point man out there and this job… I, I need you Arthur.”
Shit.
She sounds scared. He could ask her how she got herself involved in a job like this, but he knows she’s been delving deeper into mind crime over the last few years. She’d been doomed to get in over her head eventually.
He’d always promised himself he’d be there for her when she did. A strong sense of loyalty would always connect him to Ariadne. He had been on of her first teachers, and he owed it to her to keep her safe. She’s been a large part of bringing Dom back to reality. It was a great relief to Arthur, seeing as he was the one picking up Dom’s messes then. She had helped them achieve something never done before. He owed her. Dom owed her. But Arthur was probably the only one in the position to pay her back.
“Ok.” He relents, and he pulls out his laptop to start booking flights. He finds that he’s actually nervous. Her compliment about his skills before would have been appreciated but shrugged off with modesty. But now, he didn’t even feel like he lived up to it. He’d barely been able to make it through the last job without coming undone.
Nobody else noticed just how bad his insomnia had been. He’d even missed details about the mark that came up in the dream. Thankfully they didn’t interfere with the extraction, and nobody else caught on. But Arthur noticed and it bothered him. He didn’t just let things slip. He didn’t leave anything uncovered.
He was going to do this job right, but he didn’t know if he could be around anyone anymore. What if they turned on him? What if they left Ariadne and Arthur high and dry to take the fall? What if he couldn’t handle the dream?
And that was it wasn’t it? He was scared of the dream, of not knowing whom to trust and possibly having to die again. Of getting caught, trapped, helpless, scared.
“No,” he whispered out loud to ground himself. He could do this. He would do this. For Ariadne. To prove to himself that he is capable. That he is fine, and it was just a dream, and it didn’t matter that one of his team members, that Eames, killed him. Because it was just a dream.
***
When he arrives in Colombia he sets about preparing their workspace. He could slap Ariadne for somehow getting involved with the drug cartels. She was a smart girl and should have known better. She was also still young and Arthur should have warned her. Either way he was here wearing a linen suit in the subtropical warmth, in the humid city of Bogotá, scouting out a former bookshop to work from.
The lease was inexpensive and the remnants of shelving and furniture gave them comfort while the barred windows and small entrance room gave them privacy. Being on the outskirts of the upper north side of the city also helped. They would look too odd hanging in the slums, but they needed to not look overly wealthy as well.
Colombia was a lot safer than it once was, but there was no point in taking unnecessary risks by staying long in posh hotels. They didn’t need to be robbed on the street, or taken for ransom. Arthur would be giving up his expensive tailored suits for more manageable and weather friendly clothing as well.
Ariadne arrives with Wild in tow soon after Arthur messages her that the space is ready. There’s something there between them that he’ll have to investigate farther. But he’s too distracted by Ariadne’s state. She’s thinner, paler even, than usual, which isn’t a good sign. But she looks profoundly relieved to see Arthur.
“Thank you so much Arthur. I really owe you for this one. I don’t even know how to repay you.”
She’s hugging him tightly as Wild floats in the background, looking over the space. Wild had given a quick handshake as a greeting, but as Arthur had noted last time, the man is fairly reserved.
“It’s not a problem Ariadne. And you don’t. Really. How did you manage to get tangled up in this anyway?”
She laughs haltingly. It’s really just an exhale and her smile is short and forced. “One of my clients owes them and I owe him for a half complete job. I couldn’t back out, this client knows too much about me. He threatened to visit my little brother at his college if I didn’t do this for him for fuck’s sake.” Wild glances over at her frustrated statement; a tight but sympathetic expression on his face.
Arthur frowns as he realizes the situation. “I see.”
He’s going to finish this job, and then he’s going to pay this client a visit, because nobody is going to have leverage like that over Ariadne if he can help it.
“Yeah. I fucked up.” Ariadne sighs, taking Arthur’s silence after as admonishment.
“We’ll get this done Ariadne,” he assures her. “And then I’m going to teach you more about security, hiding your identity, and covering your tracks.”
“Thanks Arthur, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
Arthur smiles. It’s actually good to be back. He hadn’t been happy away from his work. He’d been miserable really. He’s not meant to live a normal, pedestrian, life. He loves the hunt, tracking down every small detail of someone’s life. He loves scouting, and strategizing. He loves being the first one in and the last one out. He’s missed the thrill. This job will be good for him and he thinks he’s finally going to be able to get over the incident with the Weiss job. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Continue to part 4
Beta(s): space_raider182 and queenofinfinite
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the Christopher Nolan and Warner Bros. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. They are not mine, I just like to play with them.
______
Part 1 Part 2
Arthur is going to have a panic attack. He hasn’t had one of these since the live ammo obstacle course during basic training, back when he was still very much a kid and had never been shot at before. Well, he hasn’t had a panic attack since then if you don’t count earlier when he woke from the dream of course. That was just a reaction to the pain. Right?
The mark is still sedated on the hotel bed, but Jackson and Eames are milling about the room helping to clean. It’s not that he’s nervous about getting caught now, or getting out. It’s not that he’s worried that he’d passed out for near an hour after getting murdered in the dream, though that still lingers in his mind. It’s the look that Eames gave him upon waking when time on the PASIV ran out. The man didn’t avert his gaze sheepishly, or apologize, or soften at all. He didn’t have any of the reactions one would expect from someone who regrets anything. Instead he just stared at Arthur, cold and calculating, until Arthur was forced to look away and retreat to the bathroom for refuge.
He’s picturing it now, Eames’ gray eyes sharply focused, for too long, like he was trying to take something apart with his mind. That something being Arthur. So Arthur proceeds to wipe the bathroom surfaces of fingerprints while he again struggles to regulate his breathing. It’s becoming the trend of the day it seems. But he really needs to not black out this time, Weiss won’t be sedated for that much longer.
The group clears out minutes later scattering through the city to wait until they can safely return to the safe house. Jackson leaves first without much ceremony and Ariadne quickly after but not without a last worried glance, a squeeze of the hand and a sigh. He appreciates it; he really does, even if it does exasperate him slightly.
Eames lingers uncomfortably long, but he doesn’t say a word. Arthur is always the last one to leave and he wishes Eames would just go already so he can get the fuck out of this room and as far away from Weiss as possible. When Eames finally exits the tightness in Arthur’s lungs releases some. He picks up the PASIV and heads out to wander New York for a while before he has meet with the team and contact their client.
***
It’s been six months since the Weiss job and Arthur hasn’t accepted more. He hasn’t needed to financially, but that’s just an excuse he gives himself for turning everything down. He’s usually itching for something to do after a month at most, but he hasn’t felt the need to take anything on until now. He’s finally restless, but he’s hesitant for some reason. He tries to push that feeling away. He’ll just find an easy job.
He works with Ariadne and a fairly new but talented extractor named Wild. And if Arthur is a little paranoid, diving into his research more than is probably necessary; he can blame it on being out of the game for longer than usual.
The truth is far from that. He works himself ragged because he doesn’t trust his own research. He doesn’t trust Wild’s game plan. He doesn’t trust not knowing what’s going to happen when he gets the mark down into the dream. Usually he can work with that. His job is to work with criminals, ultimately people he can’t trust, and deal with it. But for some reason it’s different this time. And dammit this is supposed to be an easy job.
It’s ten at night and Arthur is running through his notes for the millionth time when Ariande lightly touches his shoulder. He can barely suppress flinching but he steels himself and turns in his chair to face her.
“Are you ok Arthur?”
“Yes.” His answer is curt. Ariadne hesitates, biting her lip nervously, but eventually continues.
“You seem a little tense lately.”
“I’m fine,” he insists. He could give her excuses but she’s too observant for that. It’s better for him to stay silent and just get through this job so she doesn’t pick his lies apart and try and weasel her way into his problems like she did with Cobb.
“Ok, well don’t work too late. Even you need sleep.” She hangs her bag off of her shoulder, patting his shoulder lightly, and heads home for the night. Arthur tries not to think about how true her words really are.
He’s been having nightmares. They’ve been coming on more frequently as they get closer to the job. At first he couldn’t remember anything about them, he’d just wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing, a scream just waiting to erupt. He’d lost the ability to dream years ago with how much he had been working, so this is disconcerting. He hadn’t been off Somnacin long enough for them to return really. The fact that he can’t remember his nightmares is even more troubling. He’s trained to recall these things.
As the extraction draws near he’s able to start picking out a few coherent flashes from the dreams. He’s haunted by cold gray eyes that penetrate his very being. Those eyes aren’t supposed to look that way. They are supposed to look witty, amused, and intelligent. They are not supposed to look empty and dull. They aren’t supposed to leave him with a sense of forbidding.
There’s something else there too. The dreams are wrapped in tension. It’s like an ache in his chest. It’s like something he’s known is being stolen away from him. He’s always enjoyed the way Eames looked at him and he thinks fond. But now, the thought of Eames’ eyes just makes him sick. It leaves him feeling hollow and lost.
That might be the worst part.
***
Arthur doesn’t accept jobs for a long time after he completes the extraction with Ariadne. She’s contacted him for a few, but he had been evasive and she’d given in to his excuses when he said he’d been too busy, or the job didn’t pay well enough, or any other lie he could shell out.
The inevitable day comes when Ariadne doesn’t take no for an answer.
“Arthur, I need you. You are the best point man out there and this job… I, I need you Arthur.”
Shit.
She sounds scared. He could ask her how she got herself involved in a job like this, but he knows she’s been delving deeper into mind crime over the last few years. She’d been doomed to get in over her head eventually.
He’d always promised himself he’d be there for her when she did. A strong sense of loyalty would always connect him to Ariadne. He had been on of her first teachers, and he owed it to her to keep her safe. She’s been a large part of bringing Dom back to reality. It was a great relief to Arthur, seeing as he was the one picking up Dom’s messes then. She had helped them achieve something never done before. He owed her. Dom owed her. But Arthur was probably the only one in the position to pay her back.
“Ok.” He relents, and he pulls out his laptop to start booking flights. He finds that he’s actually nervous. Her compliment about his skills before would have been appreciated but shrugged off with modesty. But now, he didn’t even feel like he lived up to it. He’d barely been able to make it through the last job without coming undone.
Nobody else noticed just how bad his insomnia had been. He’d even missed details about the mark that came up in the dream. Thankfully they didn’t interfere with the extraction, and nobody else caught on. But Arthur noticed and it bothered him. He didn’t just let things slip. He didn’t leave anything uncovered.
He was going to do this job right, but he didn’t know if he could be around anyone anymore. What if they turned on him? What if they left Ariadne and Arthur high and dry to take the fall? What if he couldn’t handle the dream?
And that was it wasn’t it? He was scared of the dream, of not knowing whom to trust and possibly having to die again. Of getting caught, trapped, helpless, scared.
“No,” he whispered out loud to ground himself. He could do this. He would do this. For Ariadne. To prove to himself that he is capable. That he is fine, and it was just a dream, and it didn’t matter that one of his team members, that Eames, killed him. Because it was just a dream.
***
When he arrives in Colombia he sets about preparing their workspace. He could slap Ariadne for somehow getting involved with the drug cartels. She was a smart girl and should have known better. She was also still young and Arthur should have warned her. Either way he was here wearing a linen suit in the subtropical warmth, in the humid city of Bogotá, scouting out a former bookshop to work from.
The lease was inexpensive and the remnants of shelving and furniture gave them comfort while the barred windows and small entrance room gave them privacy. Being on the outskirts of the upper north side of the city also helped. They would look too odd hanging in the slums, but they needed to not look overly wealthy as well.
Colombia was a lot safer than it once was, but there was no point in taking unnecessary risks by staying long in posh hotels. They didn’t need to be robbed on the street, or taken for ransom. Arthur would be giving up his expensive tailored suits for more manageable and weather friendly clothing as well.
Ariadne arrives with Wild in tow soon after Arthur messages her that the space is ready. There’s something there between them that he’ll have to investigate farther. But he’s too distracted by Ariadne’s state. She’s thinner, paler even, than usual, which isn’t a good sign. But she looks profoundly relieved to see Arthur.
“Thank you so much Arthur. I really owe you for this one. I don’t even know how to repay you.”
She’s hugging him tightly as Wild floats in the background, looking over the space. Wild had given a quick handshake as a greeting, but as Arthur had noted last time, the man is fairly reserved.
“It’s not a problem Ariadne. And you don’t. Really. How did you manage to get tangled up in this anyway?”
She laughs haltingly. It’s really just an exhale and her smile is short and forced. “One of my clients owes them and I owe him for a half complete job. I couldn’t back out, this client knows too much about me. He threatened to visit my little brother at his college if I didn’t do this for him for fuck’s sake.” Wild glances over at her frustrated statement; a tight but sympathetic expression on his face.
Arthur frowns as he realizes the situation. “I see.”
He’s going to finish this job, and then he’s going to pay this client a visit, because nobody is going to have leverage like that over Ariadne if he can help it.
“Yeah. I fucked up.” Ariadne sighs, taking Arthur’s silence after as admonishment.
“We’ll get this done Ariadne,” he assures her. “And then I’m going to teach you more about security, hiding your identity, and covering your tracks.”
“Thanks Arthur, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
Arthur smiles. It’s actually good to be back. He hadn’t been happy away from his work. He’d been miserable really. He’s not meant to live a normal, pedestrian, life. He loves the hunt, tracking down every small detail of someone’s life. He loves scouting, and strategizing. He loves being the first one in and the last one out. He’s missed the thrill. This job will be good for him and he thinks he’s finally going to be able to get over the incident with the Weiss job. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Continue to part 4